Cursed Belonging

Cursed Belonging

Cursed be the memory that led me to you – it was an illusion

A trick of the mind which entered me like a toxic pollution

The pollinated air and well-trained disguise guided me by making me adaptive

Those allergies produced a cough and itch that’s prisoned me captive

How could I ever resist that infallible rose

A token of blossom laced with the protection of the thorns which are clothes

I’m cut by the tender clinch

Reminded yet again that everything we hold requires us not to flinch

A forged experience completely entwined by a complex tribe

If we only listened to the call of the shadows – Would this still be a bribe?

Now, I’m like a ghost wishing to belong to a world opposite of the dream

Steady longing for those sketches of empty frames which scream

Envisioning to be filled yet again with color and personality

The curse of belonging is a memory from the heart of commonality but not factuality

Advertisements

Silence is Abudant…

Silence is Abudant…

Silence is Abundant.

Sometimes, there are no words left to fill the void of space. Silence is energy that restores the machinery. Too many words can often pollute and distort the truest delivery of understanding. Words carry weight, and they build with each tone and interpretation. Being alert means knowing the sound, has already been prophesied. Less is more because minimalism establishes the reign of detail.

The Riddle of This Silence, Speaks A Thousand Words.

Silence leaves room for mystery, and for individual perspective. The days have come, where silence has become noise.

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 a beautiful thing. It’s a universe of where you can go, with those 12 notes!”
– Michael Jackson