Opaque

Opaque

(If you rather listen instead of reading – CLICK HERE)

Opaque –  not transmitting radiation, sound, heat, etc.

This disturbance of my peace steady lingers in my opaque heart. I am wishing to find a balanced memory. One that isn’t tainted by the lullabies of betrayal or bad news.

If there’s one thing we have an abundance of, is plastic! Bad News is like plastic. I don’t think we’re even aware of how well versed we are with the bad news cycle.

It’s not particularly beneficial long or short term if not met with balanced stories that service positivity.

I feel this even more so as a person of color. People of color are so well versed in trauma, that we’ve internalized the mere occurrence by heavily sharing it out of outrage.

We even urge others to make videos VIRAL of police brutality or some form of prejudice. While this may certainly bring necessary attention – if we only do this without proper balanced good news, none of it has the potential to serve us any good.

We justify this as to bring awareness to brutality which in many ways are important.

The key to solving this conundrum is knowing that you don’t have to tolerate the constant bad news cycle.

There’s just as much good news as bad news, it just tends to be dressed and packaged in the commonly disposable (plastic) reaction…“ aww how sweet” whereas devastating news or sad news is packaged as “conscious or necessary to know”.

If our collective good and productive contributions are rarely acknowledged at the expense of plastic, easily produced bad news – this rubric can’t be to our advantage.

What we should know but often forget is those bad things has been happening since the dawn of humanity. This doesn’t mean we can’t sympathize with those affected by trauma but that we should correlate it with the bigger picture. *things are much better now than before!*

We should also remember those good things are in abundance as well.

Remember the good things and do good things unexpectedly. Share good things even the ones that seem important.

Even the small good things, like you, had your favorite meal today or that you got a smile from someone who doesn’t typically smile. Good things don’t have a rubric of interest.

If sharing those good things are received by a simple – “aww how cool” or even the unconventional thumbs up! We can learn to appreciate that. The alternative often involves a non-productive response which can end up making you feel worst than before.

In light of this awareness, I am developing a new rule: If you’re gonna share bad news, meet it with something cool or even weird. Weird is better than bad. Cool is more informative than bad.

The bad news cycle isn’t always unnecessary but not always useful either.

Hindsight tends to laugh at our previous business.

Indeed we are often shady businessman – making deals impulsively not properly planning quarterly.

My prudential interest serves me because I was taught to consider my own values. Self-care is not just about pampering but taking care of fundamental needs.

I have come to bite the fruit of despair.

If seeing you there meant believing in our dream, I would not hesitate to go asleep.

Now I can’t be seen as truly wanting absolution.

From the morning complaints to the afternoon joke that turned sour.

The evening sun casts a gloomy indifference.

Who’s to say what it could mean?

We are locked in the chain of belittling attacks.

To be understood is our misfire.

We’ve stepped in the sulking cold, right when springtime arrived.

Never late but hardly in time for our lifestyles.

Will they ever mesh? Or could we ever be more than our aging flesh?

I thought that together with our growth would make time for all the rest.

But sometimes, shortcomings are aging truths that remain on the viral dial.

In my halls of shallow emotions, still, I write.

To be known for who I am and whom I will become without a fight.

We are all but a forgotten flower.

Purchased for the dining set table.

But we simply seem unable and that is why my opaque heart longs…for good news packaged in a reusable material.

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Unending Math

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Salvador Dali

Like a fire is known by the passion of yesterday – our galaxy is made of mysterious makeup and powerful energy!

Magnificent feelings which take us to the sky and then to the unending line which goes on forever.

If you could understand the angles on which I am met – you would see why this corner is so hard to be in.

Hard like Arabian Math – with a great thrust to intersect.

I’m giving you a lampshade crown as I am weeping on your knee.

Weeping because all I see is the lamentation of a world without you.

I am happy to know you’re here in my route.

So take those pregnant pauses and when you are ready to deliver.

I’ll be there to carefully caress your body language!

You swallow whole the engulfing mystery of the night.

Rivers and streams within you.

I just want to play by the awakening of your waters.

You keep my eyes focused, but my heart yearning for more!

 

Volcanic Exits

If you are in a room wherein the heat is swamped with desire, the illness which warms your insides will by no means overdose on the medicine presented.
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(Can you seriously, take more of what you believe you need? When You realize // You don’t want it?)
As the hot and gripping feeling begins to trickle, at the very composition of attraction.
You become the student of attraction while being taught by the lessons of fire, lava burns your shadow.
Words become whispers and your every breath becomes as loud as the dynamite.
What happens off the room where the aroma is sizzling?
Maybe you should ask the smoke as now it expands across the room.
This smoke and ash are elected to keep you held hostage to the room.
You find no escape, so on the ground, you are helplessly requesting for an exit.
Every a cough beckons for a clearance of this spark
Yet you continue to enter the dimension of flame and volcanic vapor.

Lust Into Rebellion (Scandalous Desire)

 

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Some of you may know who she is? I surely do! This particular face she has; always makes me give into rebellion! You see, she had just got denied by Edward! “Edward come back! Stop Edward, You can’t-do that!”

Then she looks in lust from the distance! Similar to the anticipation she had; when she heard the rebuke from the religious leader in the neighborhood when she said

“It has been sent down to tempt you, but it’s not too late! You must push him from you; expel him! Trample down the perversion of nature. “

To which she replied; “Did you hear that? He’s a perversion of nature, well isn’t that exciting?”

That is one of my favorite lines in a movie. You can count on the religious traditional law; to judge before knowing a person! True love from within comes from understanding and accepting a person as they are. If only a robot (Edward) could have a heart and not be programmed!

This picture makes me smile and indulges in the nature of what is considered the perverse. I am willing to become a scandal for the nature of unconditional love.

The Flower Teacher (Garden Virginity)

In the middle of the landscape, there lays a blossom of innocence.

The theory of learning progresses the passive wills of chastity.

The landscape has fully dressed the garden to appeal to the tools of fertilization.

The energy within starts to silently seek for one to come into the bliss of tight entrances.

As the desires for fulfillment are given by the kiss of fire.

The expectation of rain is brought by the movement of fingers which slowly manage to shout longing.

Forecasting into the future, the weather becomes intimate with the radar of mutual predictability.

Falling into the height of the endless skies of ecstasy; the unfolding lusts are entering into dimensions of positioned pulchritudes.

The eyes of bloom are intensified as the depth of divinity reaches its climax.

Angels begin to witness the appetite humans are given; due to the blessing of attraction and affection.

Targeting the arousal given by the initiation of touch and action harmony is blessed within a sacred union.

Being willing to jeopardize the standards of oath because of the lava in the heart; hears only the sound of heat waves.

Now as the leaves of lust and love are given at the expense of decoration; the ornaments of energy are innuendos of pure caress.

Fulfillment has exhaled the thoughts of opened blossoms; as the bloom has revealed its nature.

Summarized Notion For Thought: The flower teacher has a garden of virginity. It’s sacred.