Destination: Splash Utopia

Destination: Splash Utopia

“Paradise is fiction to the hearts without enchanted flash.

The riddle of movement and flow begins at the sound of the splash.”

AND NOW THERE’S DESSERT #2 – Splash Utopia served by Jeremy Garner who handles all the music and production. I love this track because of the guitar and the changes in this song! Jeremy is one of the most underrated musicians, I’ve had the pleasure to work with. He sent this song to me and blew my head off. I hope you do enjoy!

 

Remember – On YouTube is where to find me and Jeremy Garner’s Latest Collaborations!

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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

The Firey Speck

The Firey Speck

In a moment where the wind blew
For a brief grievance, my coat tail knew
The fiery dust which embraced my eye
Came to proclaim a message of a thunderous lullaby
To be awake is to steady see
The anguish and anger always sent for me
A song for the hornet and wide winged bat
Inside of my shattered heart, my reaction is a frivolous stat

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

For some wish to learn at the university – receiving methods and assignments in strenuous diversity
Others are not for the will to learn from the school book
They rather get it word of mouth from the bell and informed hook
I suppose it matters not where education arrives
For as long as the trail of questions convince our begging lives

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

{bridge}
A refrain of speckled puzzles convinced me to see
A dark illumination that’s paralyzed me
If not for the will to sing this song
I’d refuse to believe the dance to belong
The color of a miss-step is the shade of a fading white
No one has to wrestle in the error of the unseen night

A frivolous stat! A frivolous stat! A hornet without honey and wide winged bat! A wide-winged bat!
For seeing without eyes are like bees without honey
A purpose to be drawn without the necessity of money
The speck in my eye became an enlarged reflector
This inspired a pathway to become the most desired nectar

When the speck hit my eye
I should have washed it out with lye
The burn would have paralyzed my will to see
The dream that this would set us free
But now I’m waking up to be hurt
All of my feelings are stuck in the dirt

Ambiguous Windows

Ambiguous Windows

The rise of the enchanting normal
Separates the odd and the desolate
Ambiguous windows are imagination’s fate

I know that revelation is out there
I can sense the tap on my shoulder
Once turning away from it – the touch persisted and became older
I Can’t find the source of my irritation
Might it be the mind leading me to imagination?

The windows of my confessions are ambiguous
The doors to my certainty are locked away
The key to my access is chained to a combination of gray

Everybody’s looking for a story to relate
Looking at a situation that encourages them to no longer wait
Although I can play recommended part
I can’t convince myself to start

The windows of my confessions are ambiguous
The doors to my certainty are locked away
The key to my access is chained to a combination of gray

When lost to the present idea – I’m pulled by the culture of group think
Everyone abiding by their own ink
If we can believe our own rosy illusion
Why should we run away at confusion

I’ve looked in the mirror far too less
My reflection is anyone’s guess
I much rather look out the window to find anything that can be
Imagination removes the veil and sets us free

Dreaming of A World With More Zeros

Dreaming of A World With More Zeros

I’m dreaming of a world with more zeros. A future filled with information which doesn’t end but repeats. A loop of daily routine found in a prism of ideas, to yield more discovery. How grand it would be, for our future to endlessly reach more experiences of love.

In a time where research is easily accessible – do you ever stop to think – we have enough information already? There’s so much hidden and revealed, there can’t be anything else left for us to know, right? Nah!

There’s plenty of wisdom left to uncover. The love of wisdom is what philosophy is at the center to root. The encouragement that comes from knowledge is awe-inspiring. The potential of knowledge made to good use revives and stimulates your nerves. When information is accessed properly – it aligns your memories to your eventual dreams.

Dreaming is to uncover those random thoughts that slipped through mundanity. *Let’s be Real: Life can be incredibly stagnant and predictable.* In spite of this, A picture that you briefly looked at it – can come back as a mansion of chandeliers. These can all be set to challenge and remind you of an essence meant to be explored when you wake up.

For a moment – picture every seed as a zero. When you plant zeros in the ground – you are essentially planting nothing. That’s what it seems. A small figure that expands into something Grand. All of the proper conditions must be in sync for it to yield a worthy result. Now think of it:

Dreaming of a world with more seeds.

Wouldn’t this be Grand? Where would we plant all of these seeds? They can’t all go into the ground – that would be limiting every other pocket waiting to be filled. Plant seeds in the clouds, souls, Children, etc. You’ll never have a shortage of places to plant seeds.

The more you plant those seeds – your zeros will stand among the many.

My dream is now living life with more seeds. More opportunities that await a future that’s entwined with past and present. It’s not that hard to see. A life that encourages us to plant seeds. To intend for a result which performs positivity.

When Flowers Yawn

When Flowers Yawn

As flowers dream to glistening stars above

They entrance me deeply

The foggy morning appears to me

The empathy of softness

The coy awakening where flower’s stare

Eye see joy there – inside it

The stardust gyrating around your hair

Are peddles you’ll repel by reflecting

Inside through outside – our kinship
are sleepy dreams

The cool summer that you once knew

You’ll see in me entirely

When flowers awaken – the dozy spell will signal

Our arms to stretch

As flowers stretch from the inside – we are transfixed by their yawn

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!

Sugary Flow

Sweeter dreams of milky passions she speaks.
 
She compliments the insight of what she sees in the light!
 
The wonder in her words – counting again.
 
I’m trying to recall the statement in her blessing!?
 
Going forward through 17 measures – which is poetically sung within the voices of melodic serenades.
 
She sings of a feeling, that pounds her heart so near.
 
As her rhythm is understood, by the choir of an audience, everyone sings in harmony.
 
The flow is begged by a craving for sugary islands and sweet drops of rain.
 
If this were a song it would be forbidden in the broadcasted notion of what is truly sacred.
 
Every part of syncopation no longer waits – it takes each chance to deal with the response.
 
The desires are fully dressed with unselfish luxury.
Image
Dedicated: To The One -Who Embraced The Element Of My Longing // Her Name Is Behind The Camera.

“Consciousness…”

 

“Consciousness expresses itself through creation. This world we live in is the dance of the creator. Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on. On many an occasion when I’m dancing, I’ve felt touched by something sacred. In those moments, I’ve felt my spirit soar and become one with everything that exists. I become the stars and the moon. I become the lover and the beloved. I become the victor and the vanquished. I become the master and the slave. I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known. I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. The creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy. I keep on dancing and dancing… and dancing, until there is only… the dance.”

– Michael Jackson