Rectified Cosmos

Sometimes, when you study something, you are brought to a halt, as what was already enormous grows into something bigger and more complex. It’s kind of what happens with certain music I listen to. Everyone wants you to hear this NEW artist or song, BUT I can’t swallow it all at one time. Some artists and subjects truly need eating utensils and a processing schedule. Anytime, I study the eyes of our universe I am brought with a sense of wonder. Not all the time am I taken back to write unless there is great mysticism involved, and in this case, this time, true sensation revealed itself. One of the reasons, I am drawn to the study of our galaxies could be because I truly don’t feel as If I belong here sometimes. I truly believe the cosmos of everything is resurrected when we truly observe everything around us. Just look above at the moon!
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The eyes of the universe are unending.

The cosmos entirely rectifies an audible sensation of discovery.

The oscillations of what we see only in one moment become swallowed up in thousands of prisms.

The acceleration into the engulfing complexity stirs a desire within me for abbreviations and digestion.

Time begins to find meaning in creation.

The beginning spells itself out to me.

A mystical wonder that weighs in on the physics of mystery. 

Information coming from intelligibility are embedded in the core of all that is.

A universal cosmos that is rectified becomes of the equations and questions out there.

Within the concept and continuous abbreviations of who we are, the transformation accelerates at such alarming rates!

Our eternity is embedded within us. We are born into the flawlessness of creation!

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Y-ME/X (#Graph#)

DeathUnderneathThe Firement

When the act becomes pathological – it is then easier to carry out falsehood.

Concern begins to diminish and what was once an act of sorrow and remorse is now happiness and comfort.

There is no longer a lingering of turbulence, in fact, my character is unapologetic.

I once reflected like time indefinite.

I tried to catch the glass tiles; before they fell.

Without a smile, I asked if you can turn on the stereo.

I wanted to play this old song, about love.

At one time, I thought it was OK for us to communicate, but we simply have no identification with each other anymore.

It’s no longer that ‘Awkward’ silences which truly make it uncomfortable, rather the remembrance of our structure.

We simply forgot to water the plants that day and now the weeds have choked up the smallest hint of life which existed.

Allowing my alter-ego to take over only seemed justified when you no longer bore my true nature.

I couldn’t be true ‘REAL’ with you because there were too many questions.

No, we didn’t have to agree on everything, but we should not have to fight around the details of something.

The noise of my mask reiterates the gloom and ugly, you desperately ignored in our broken relationship.

Did I forget to tell you my name? My name is Y-Me – it is a name that carefully defines the function behind our pantomimed motives.

Why me?

Because you never liked being responsible for your actions.

You rather me but instead the motive behind me, crouches at your door! 

You will have to face it, in the final judgment.

But until then, I leave you a graph, I’ll leave it to you, to measure the axis and right angles.

Perhaps, you’ll define the variables in relation to your ‘X’.

I remember writing this almost a year ago, on the cracks of my relationship with X, and it came back to me, because of a similar manifestation I had recently. A lot of these words could be taken as a bit bitter, but I truly believe the graph will be marked. The house is dissolved, and the skeletons are given a new name!

Hello!

I have come to say hi – to invite you to a place of welcome. Exactly – I’m your greeting and I’ve come to eat with you to establish a relationship. I don’t ask you anything but to lavish into you a divine introduction. My first and last is to benefit and approve of your […]

Metaphorical Gender

 

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An intention is a character.

What belongs of meaning is translated in the wonder of what is.

Every mystery that belongs to the qualities of imagination.

The embodiment of surrealism joints overall.

If your visualization begs for the function of universal affirmation – talk to the metaphorical gender.

You’ll come to summarize the language of the eye when the colors are seen. 

One day an adjustment will occur, and we’ll see the eternal home from which we are created.

Upon the towers of variation, we hear announcements of aggressive complexity.

Things which are seen as difficult, possess not only intricate links; but an intelligent embrace of the riddle.

Venom Sketch

It’s safe to say – I had one of the most amazing weekends of my life! Completely filled with sheer supernatural bliss! Very unprecedented and even as I type these words, I am possessed with such wonder!  “Did that really happen? / Did I really stand steps away from The greatest instrument in modern music? ” Dreams of “Paisley Park” became reality when I actually stepped into the doors! It was a very intimate, and sensual experience that gave my journey a blissful meaning! NOT TO mention, the BEST breakfast!

One of the most exciting elements of this journey this weekend; was meeting the muse, of a poem I wrote not long ago. I saw an image of a feminine figure and she spelled her ink and captured wise pieces! Moments that were sheer poisonous yet appealing. When I went to Minnesota to meet up with my friend Danny L’amour. Through our conversations, I developed such a conversation that realistically she enveloped the writing I wrote. In our depth of sentences, she revealed her essence. I realized while talking to her – she was the woman eye saw while writing this. That had never happened before to me on that level, I was actually meeting the unknown, and it was such a powerful piercing of wonder!

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The imagery of soft pastels you cast send a burning reaction down my veins.

Such excitement which is a foretaste of pleasurable manifestations of serene divinity.

With my eyes; I have begun to taste your insight into what dances before you.

At this particular frame, I marvel at the cognitive renaissance your composition lies.

My questions vanish as I allow your continual charm to answer my begging wonders.

Will you stroke me, as you, stroke the brush that highlights into your clouds?

The journey begins at where my thoughts pass before your sketch.

Have you made up the coloring of your distant abbreviations?

Nearly the shadow of your focus arises over your construction.

Blistering levels of venom intoxicate me by the embrace of your wise sketch.

Thank YOU, for being the muse and for being among the wisest sketches. Your artwork is still embedded within me. I am examining the silence you translated to me. I truly believe I have sat under your construction. You’re going to see me! You sold to me a city, that I am only lengths away from experiencing! This is true, and the colors are within me!

Timeless Burning

Indeed The Flame Burns!

4 Eyes Opened

The longing for something better has once again returned.

I lie awake at night on fire, my core literally burns.

That familiar voice that is my own tells me to run and hide.

The only problem is that there’s nowhere to go; how can I run from my own insides?

Is it so bad to long for what’s unknown & simultaneously known?

I cry out, asking for help, asking simply to be shown.

Is it selfish that I want recognition for what it is I’ve done?

Even if I give all of the credit to the ultimate One?

Is it selfish that I want it to be my name that is spoken?

Is it selfish that I want some appreciation, even a small token?!

It seems the only thing to do is wait until the end.

I must wait until our eternal lives are slated to begin.

Only then will…

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