Numerical Distance

I’m inhaling the score, as it progressively counts backward in my mind!
I am ready to write them down, on the table of conscious unwind!
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I remember writing this back only a couple of months ago,  I had no idea what it meant. But through conversation with one of my closest friends, we discussed other topics, and this poem made sense. In this particular situation, it made a lot of sense! I think that is one of the most brilliant aspects of writing, you may not know what it is at the time, but through the process of time; understanding is gained. This piece is about committing to someone who beckons at your desire. So in the screams of realization, you promise what and where you would be to this person. You will follow the numbers, no matter the distance! 

I met you, through a dream, that counted backward to me.

AND when I woke up. I heard your name!

Marry Me! Marry – my justifiable number, and follow my calculations.

Don’t you know I seek to make your voice the story of ancient history?

You only need to beckon my desire and the twin of my passion will give you the key to the alley.

You won’t ever walk alone; my dreams are never distant from your fingers as you wipe your eyes.

I’ll remain like a private affair that an odor has with a  broken past.

We can make this last because as high as you are above me.

I am truly freestanding under you as your glow rests on my frame.

We only now seem to remain as distant as it feels.

our monastic order is abolished as we follow the path of our union! 

This concept of now frustrates the will to wait, and to prolong.

Obviously measures and calculations are of mathematical dictation, I know

BUT, Do you realize your numbers?

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Elderly Terms

“The Accusation of elderly conviction is executed merely because of futuristic outcomes, coded by a similar disposition .”

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This accusation is deemed to qualify a sense of youthful examination, which animates the picture of believability.
If this is the impression that designs its players rightfully -who plays the roles?
 
Seize the level of immaturity and arise at your most youthful memory.
Laughing in the fortune of what lays behind and being guided by the train of obscurity.
The terms now are hereby more defined, excellence lies in the way for expression.
Signing the condition away to settle the dispute of locked away silence.
Why settle when things are going very badly?
The good times roll and the search for resembled manifestations, are just as likely to appear realistic.
This aging process is soon to end on the terms of death.
^^ I remember writing this, around this time last year.
YES. Death is apart of life.

Pregnant Gestation

“When you know it’s right, sometimes you feel like something’s coming, a gestation, almost like a pregnancy or something. You get emotional and you start to feel something gestating and magic, there it is! It’s an explosion of something that’s so beautiful, you go WOW! There it is. That’s how it works through you, it’s […]

Cloned Octupuses

I remember writing this a while back and it continues to be relevant to my life even more now. Not to say, I am a famous person by any measure, but I am STILL very social. I talk to a lot of people through the social mediums given to me but it can be extremely overwhelming.

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I love to share but I only have so many hands/scissors at one time. 😀 I look above, below, and to the side of me and there is still someone. Someone is still calling out my name. I feel like sometimes I’m in a rush to respond to everyone at the same time BUT I have to remember, to take it easy. I only have 10 fingers, and only 5 of them (Interchangeably) are used on the keyboard (Not considering my thumbs when I text message). I only have so much, and it’s always an expedition when I journey through the seas of social media. Every morning, I wake up to

Every morning, I wake up to a multitude of messages and I respond within the honor of the day. No complaints, because I am actually establishing ties and I feel very close to the entwined purpose of everyone. Sometimes though it’s like my fingers are like an octopus.

I developed a theory, called ‘Cloned Octopuses’.

An octopus is an intelligent being and it helps that, they have so many ligaments to accomplish a work!  Now, what if they were cloned? I would have so many arms to accomplish the work given to me. If you didn’t know, an octopus is very good at hiding as they mimic landscapes, as a defense mechanism.

I’m not saying, that I don’t like responding, to anyone, this just helps me explain the nature of my communication.  They are one of the most mysterious sea creatures, and I find them very fascinating!

Here is the poem, addressing what great power it would be to visualize this concept in motion.

The ligaments of connected joints are in common expression of what has been made.
A series of likeliness has developed the unique order of engraved creation.
I hear the charges of infuriated response calling out into the echoed cave.
They want an answer to scream into their thirst, of a thousand replies.
I’ve generated another copy which somehow plots the standard of a fantasy and yet the stone is entrusted into my building.
Then, there is the stoned reflection of my countenance,  which I can no longer determine is my true mirror.
I’ve given myself into the consumption of physical duty, and the shadows of myself are becoming many.
I repeat the recited prayers to exercise within divinity, as I return to a consummation of infinity.  
The registers of my symmetry are plagued by the waters.
Deeply intelligently by the skills of my distinguished nervousness.
I am slow to reply or is my reflection the result of complicated movements?
I can’t live long as my eggs are broken after birth, and my spawning leaves a lot to be desired.
I hide within the camouflage of mimicry.
I seek to prey through the lens of a changed color, to fit the mold which will give me a sense of awareness.
I am not able to be kept secure, as I am able to solve through because of my destined mobility.

Undressed Courtroom

I’ve learned that the witness of my expression, stands on trial. The judge and jury are those who whisper lies, in vain deceit! They speak the very accusation of their nature, they have not spoken the essence of what is opposite of their being. The courtroom begs for silence – as the wild arguments pursue on the tables of contract. Our pains come to intimidate us because in the face of suffering it seems like the only fate.

The law is still given in the hindsight of what is already in our minds. We can clearly speak to the writing that comes to keep us condemned. I’ve closely examined the passion that belongs to personal intimacy. Just, alone in the courtroom – Surrounded by your own fragrance & melody. As you hear these dripping sounds, taste the tip of your tongue. You stand undressed in the courtroom, and no one is embarrassed but the witness of expression.

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I can’t say that I am surprised, at the accusations. However, I’m finally able to say: The judicial consequence is not punitive – rather restorative.

GRACE Awakening

I woke UP extremely late with sticky dreams at the corner of my eyes! 

I could not wipe them, from the waterfall of cries!
 
Breakfast was set – the table-spread.
 
Still finding it hard to believe, I got out of bed! 
 
All in my head.
 
The blessing of grace still astounds – the most common dread! 
 
My sleep triples what it has made of visions of yesteryear.
Consciously the parades all around me, speak to me so sincere.
 
Therein the fixed theology of love – the question remains to bear this glove.