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You blame not
when I am not with you.
You welcome
when I come back to you.
You nourish
when I am open to you.
You flourish
when I am your conduit.

There is no mention
of the time we're separate.
There is no pressure
to be a certain way.
There is no guilt
in being distracted by life.
There is no shame
in being wrong about things,
even yourself.

You are compassionate.

Though,
When I chase, you elude-
(because you are already there in me.)
When I stay, you egg me on
(because you are pure energy.)
When I capture, you escape
(because you are ethereal)
When I accommodate, you amaze
(because you are all-creative)
When I name, you become anomalous
(because you defy labels)
When I control, you boycott
(because to control is to disrespect).
When I let go, you comply
(because by letting go, you let it stay).

You are nothing as you are everything;
the things we perceive are your reflections.
Though you are no singular thing,
that is what allows you to be everything.

You are each person,
but very few people are you.
You are infinite wisdom,
thus can no one define you.
You are a pattern, a fractal of Philosophy
that can be reflected and lived
but not that can be told or taught (other than perhaps by example);
for it is subjectively based on One's existence and mindset.
Based upon One's path:

It is simultaneously the greatest gift and curse
for One to have One's own path:


No one can dictate for anyone else their path
because no one has the path of anyone else,
nor can they know of the path of another.
It's neigh impossible for one to know one's own path;
you must always be seeking to discover it; to let it unfold.

One can and must learn to be more sensitive to One's own path;
That itself takes great mental cultivation,
which in turn takes a willingness for One to learn things about Oneself that One might not like,
not to mention Practice, Self-Discipline, and Patience.
None of which can anyone do for You
but You.
::
It is up to you and you alone how worthwhile your life ends up being;
physical reality is a holographic maximum-security prison for your Chi
but the holographic prison is merciful by the grace of it being holographic.
 Apr 2013 Taylor Henry
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She said, "They use to call me busy-body, now I'm just a no-body,"
as I stroll up, headphones to unplug, to sit and wait for buses of school children to come up.
Feeling kind of broke of a sort that wont shut down, inside I'm meaning, reeling for home unfound.
Prospecting, working, commish here and there, "case management" on my case breathing till no air.
Looking and ardently searching for something that's not there, a plain jane job, to just give room for air.
Plans on paper, sound right in my head, but seem less and less practical in practice of what's read.

"Help? Daddy has a headache and sickness with no want to help baby,"
as she fashions a meal from play food in a play kitchen to make me feel better.
But I wont sit at her table, I wont play with her dolls, not today, when I've got the world at my *****,
biting and stabbing me in the back of my brain,
no, now I'll just put on a movie and try and sleep for a change.

"I love you's" are exchanged as I cover my head,
and the ultimate weight that is me lies in my bed.
Troubled, down, pierced by the bad negative points of life,
I'll rise later again looking for a "re-set" button to make alright,
while she sets the table with guests to an imaginary meal
cooked to perfection in hopes to change the way Daddy feels.
wrote this couple of years ago...
just looking back at some things now in my journal
 Apr 2013 Taylor Henry
Redshift
everyone sings about
talks about
preaches about
having a ***** past
no one tells you what to do
with a ***** coin
of a future
that erodes in your pocket
silently
but heavily
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.
After you left me
I let a dog smell at
My chest and my belly. It will fill its nose
And set out to find you.

I hope it will tear the
Testicles of your lover and bite off his *****
Or at least
Will bring me your stockings between his teeth.
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