Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

Repression is everywhere .  Repression is so common it is almost impossible to avoid .  Repression can be found in natural laws ; gravity is a repressive force .  I experience a desire for repression when I consider the possibility of extra-terrestrial life .  Propaganda is a form of repression when it eliminates unwanted truth ; militaristic logistics require repression of the extraneous.  Social hierarchy is only as good as it is expedient ; credibility is the key .  Psychological repression can be a functional personal tool .  Repression is a frictional force that can either eliminate unwanted forces or alter their courses .
Repression is most often thought of as a governmental tool .  There are many reasons a government might want to repress it’s subjects .  In a truly free government no one can practice repression on others of no consent unless they have infringed on their rights .  Fascist and socialist governments can force their people at will .  Their children are trained both  directly and subliminally in order that they may better fulfill their social positions .  In free countries laws repress repressors : people who might want to tamper with your rights .  Monopolies get repressed because they tamper with the people’s right to a free market competition
  system .  The individual reigns and the majority decides what is best for everyone .
The elimination of all unwanted repressions is the natural goal of all individuals yet repression is common the world over .  Social hierarchies necessitate repressions ; expedience in teamwork becomes more credible than individuality .  Many sociological forces create their own realms of repression ; the normalcy demanded by tyrannical governments and puritanical religions are obvious examples .  
Any retrospective examination of human history that is depthfully complete will probably bring to mind a vast quandary of opposing forces beyond social integration .    
           Personally  I find people to have a vast amount of basic similarities .  We become alienated from each other in the application of our abilities .  In fact each and every one of us live in a realm that is totally real only to ourselves .  I find this and similar states of social fragmentation to be one of the most pervasive observations one could make about the state of the human race .  
The tabula rasa state of man is an evolutional being ; a conscious realm that became out of dirt , water , sunlight , time ; an essence that has an innate quality , a cosmic continuum .  The historical development of world religions paints a vivid picture of man’s desire to relate to this tactile awareness .
There are many forces in the universe that we as humans need to repress .  Unwarranted or unwanted forces encounter natural resistance .  Humans learn to control their conscious state as they acquire maturity .  Natural repressions grow out of an understanding of the need for them .  But humans are not satiated with pragmatic self orientation .  They are easily misled by the perceived nature of their unconscious state .  The perfection orientation of Adolf ****** gives a stark example of an institutionalization of one of these warped images .
World religions also are often abortive of individual aspiration . Of course more often than not their impetus factors seem at least partially acceptable .
Practicality dictates that humans be self orientated in order to achieve their optimum state , but what is self orientation ?  Humans exist in both a conscious and unconscious state .  Individually we all perform many subconscious activities on an inadvertent level .  Although many of them are autonomic defenses we can exercise control and attempt psychic clarity .  
Actually repression is something that each and every individual must put down for themselves .  Although social expedience creates an environment that is conducive to itself , individuals have an innate need to repress certain of their psychic phenomena whether they are created by their environment or well from within .

Supposing that we lit some candles.
One for each person on this earth,
we would blow one out at a funeral
and light one up at a birth.

The world would grow darker
every time we lost a fighter
but with every new born baby
it gets just that bit brighter.

If you travelled into a city that was dark and gritty
you'd know that they didn't have many in their committee.
But.. If the light was brilliant and bright
it would send a beaming message throughout the night.

Saying "We are here! And we are alive!"
Not wanting to be alone we endeavor to collide
and form one giant, shining beacon
that burns so fierce we're sure it can't weaken

We sparkle and crackle and bend nature to our whim
the mighty fire so strong it just had to gave in.
With it we forged iron and buildings, cars and computers
and lit paths of lives to guide commuters

We lit up the universe as far as we could see
Improving our lives greatly with technology
obsessed with our professed fixture on practicality
we completely forgot about morality

Our fires forged weapons which we aimed next door
In one swift movement we saw the effects of war
6,000,000 candles extinguished
over arguments on which light is most distinguished

So fixated on this light we blinded our eyes
and the candle smoke filled the skies.
We thought candles were good, they elevated us higher
but now all we have is thick smoke and fire.

The fire consuming all in its route
the root of our lives follow suite.
It's eating the oxygen and burning the grass
the sand is melting and forming to glass.

The glass it shatters into a thousand pieces
more candles are lighting, the temperature increases
The resources decline, as do the candles
buried in ash a hundred thousand scandals.

Now only a few lit candles remain
as they slowly melt and fade away.

You are the practicality that keeps me grounded;
I am the spontaneity that drags you along.
You are the reason to my irrationality;
I am the tumult to your calm.
You are the answer to my questions;
I am the words to your quiet deeds.

You are the engineer I cherish;
I am the bookworm you esteem.
You are the chef I rate as top;
I am the baker you adore.
You are the handyman I can count on;
I am the seamstress you prefer.

They say opposites attract, and it seems that might be true.
Like two pieces from the puzzles we both love,
We fit together seamlessly.
To be cliche, you complete me,
But in ways I never knew weren't whole.

what happened to all the feeling? am I becoming less and less real to you? can't you see that I have a heart and it's dying because of you? you say things I know you don't mean,
please don't mean them.
it only seemed like yesterday when we were laughing without a doubt of whether the future would swallow us up. i still am not quite bothered by it just yet. but if I ask you all about tomorrow you'll say you're unsure.
you won't plead for me to stay anyways, so why should I bother waiting?
why should I bother pinning down my insides to submit to the practicality of my own mind?
why is there an ambivalent voice telling me that this isn't about how I feel, but instead a test whether my love is real?



To stay means to trudge through the thoughts and thorns heavily scraping my chest
To love means to set aside what might benefit me, and instead continually asking "how are you?" even if I know you'll answer that you're more than fine.

And it probably won't bother you that I'll fade away sooner into the sidelines, where the present is the future, and I remember how unsure you always sound--- but that's alright. I still just might be hoping for the best of us.

Two furry snake skins.
The material keeps my feet warm and I miss them when they're gone!
Comfort and style over practicality don't leave them on too long!
Odd ones make me smile.
Must be replaced once in a while.

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Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .  
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

Practicality is the reality
of ignominious totality
the devices of all sizes
and the grammatical mentality
of systematic duality.

Punctuation is the *******
the ******* of every generation
the permutation and saturation
of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration
the aberration and consternation
that leads to misinformation
and condemnation and annihilation
of the constellation colloquial conversation
the abomination of language urbanization
the fermentation and ionization
of linguistic complications
the desolation of commas and semi-colons
the affirmation of their vs they're
the augmentation of amalgamation
is just the lyrical *******
of a hooded basketball top nation
the culmination of devastation
the gestation and interpolation
that leads to appreciation isolation
and justification acceleration
the modification and assimilation
of poorly-worded implementation
and the contamination of myriad exploration
alienation in illumination
punctuation is the salvation of documentation
against the tides of violation
and the extermination of regurgitation
the classification of discrimination
and last but not least
the liberation of misrepresentation.

I try to sing this melody
Of my own fidelity
But I lack this morality
That tells me the reality
Of a life in harmony
With spirits heavenly
I am my own entity
And when I show this identity
It has no truth to humanity
So I speak in brevity
To hide the perplexity
That only few conceptually
Embrace with full integrity
To soar in the clouds joyfully
Like the eagles in serenity
And the gods of heredity
We are the truthful society
Yet know one knows it verily
I will continue transcendently
Like the lotus in her artistry
I will paint mindfully
The visage of prosperity
In all its beauty
So vividly
Until I rest solemnly
In my garden above the galaxy
Where all who truthfully
Flew with divinity
In utter tranquility
While this world unfaithfully
Decayed presently
In the lies of commonality
In this globe of duality
Don’t sing this parody
Avoid the practicality
Your song is skillfully
Hiding from the animosity
You will have your symphony
In a sky of pure unity

Society is a paradox
body shaming those who are
"too thin"
or
"overly thick"
Everyone lives behind a
plastic bubble
known as social media
lacking authenticity
& practicality
*** is nothing but a "game"
and dormancy is encouraged
while being fit & healthy is the ultimate title
If you believe in something you are told to proclaim it
unless it's not what the world wants you to say
Are these really social norms?

Marines call to say hello,
impress. I'm over 35 but my boys
19. They could go: Hide!

One moment spent tying a shoe,
another dying, gunshot wound or poisoned food.
Events in their mere chronology
                                                      ­ make no sense.
And the details of yr dad's life don't either.
                                                         ­               Late night
quiet cigarette smoker. But next day,
the butts cleaned into the can. Who does that?
Lady in a skirt or overalls rolled up - cigarette smoke.
Now it's yr dad.
                            Yr dad who
                                                 watches for war.

Even if Uncle Sam disbands, dissolves
we the people will still be here and stay involved
with North America. The purple mountains majesty
                           and shining seas
little people, big people, brown, red, and white. Addicted
                           to action movies.
Perhaps there is no choice. One must sit, sitting still
                           as a buddha, sitting bull.
I can imagine myself and all others - drivers, voters, runners -
                           little fetal muscles
at first. Metastasizing. What's it called when the cell
                           at the tip of the *****
or organism, divides, and the ***** grows? It's called
                           ******* a bicycle.

I find I make no sense. Her ****, a practicality to her, is
                           delicious to me
a miraculous sea lettuce or snapdragon. You've heard it before.
                           A moral dilemma
wrapped in robes and silks and odors. Yet, come close,
                           and business beckons
work gets done, life goes on, hair grows in, we go on
                           vacation
the Marine Corps calls, desperate for new fetuses to teach
                           purposeful workmanlike killing
I'll do my own killing, thanks, when violence comes to the
      neighborhood
                           if I've got your back
your back's gotten and if I'm on point, the point's taken.

One world under God invisible with liberty and justice for all who
                           Art in heaven
what the hell's his name.
                                          Nemesis.
        ­                                                  Hysterical.
The small war of an especially inept empire. The world's too big
to swallow as the Krauts and Nips found out. Empire
is self-correcting. Them dark-skinned mustachioed *******
who can't fix their own electricity seem to be kicking our *****
pert good. As did the ***** before them. All to the good. A
good lesson to know and then we all become friends following
the brawl. We apparently cannot skip the fight. It must
be fought, and **** the girls.

We hardly fit with our jagged edges
and our heavy breathing, our holes
don't even coincide. Our symmetry
is imperfect, as imperfection can be.
We can't call it home. We're too
edgy to ever do so. It doesn't even
come close to that feeling of
comfort and love. We're not in love,
nor are we friends by any means.
Hardly acquaintances. We wouldn't
lift a finger a finger to help the other
No, this isn't home, love or friendship.
Our weapons are still on us. The poison's
hidden in the secret compartments of the
rings we gifted each other. We never
believed in anything but practicality.
I specially sharpened the blades I
brought with me. I know he loaded
some 'special' bullets in his gun.
We deal like this, like rival gang leaders
It's the only thing that has remained
the same through all these years,
frighteningly comforting in it's stagnancy.
It doesn't even come close to companionship.
It's definition lies somewhere between
hatred, addiction and need. Quiet intimacy
will prevail between us and anyone who walks in,
feels like they're intruding on something a bit
more private and clandestine. Though no one
notices, our spines don't relax even once.

sometimes-(sometimes);
      i love you on the lips
moon garden
            paradise hills and november
and it's temple
  template of our own world of wild tales .. sometimes
sometimes twine
   sometimes silent running   sometimes engine purl
              under our dark star
     the wind rises ; blood and black lace
       the pace of our isle
              raw and in keeping
sometimes the lighthouse taps
blinking metronome and we use habits of coherence
and practicality and partnership

in some dark corners
alternatives
on another earth
seats an uninvited guest
viewing
(i feel.. sometimes)

When I was nine
My mother asked, “What do you want to do when you’re older”
And I told her
Honestly
With my nine-year-old smile
As wide as an ocean
My nine-year-old heart
As deep as infinity
I told her, “mama, I wanna touch the stars, I wanna find pirate treasure, I wanna climb mountains and live in the treetops”
My mother,
She looked at my nine-year-old smile
She held my nine-year-old heart in her hands
and she whispered,
“Baby, how are you gonna do all that?”
I didn’t have an answer
You see,
At age nine,
I didn’t think about practicality
Or actuality
Or logicality
Or any big word with an -ality stuck to it
At age nine I had aspirations that I rode like angel wings
Dreams that would carry me to the stars I longed to hold
I was nine years old with a mind full of colors
And a mouth made to love
My heartbeat was the drum I marched to
The melody to my song
I told my mother once again “mama I wanna touch the stars”
Flashforward
I am a freshman in high school now
I stand before you,
Age 15
A year and a half away from driving
3 years from applying
4 years from finding what I’m gonna do with my life
Since then
My nine-year-old smile has dwindled
My nine-year-old heart has shriveled
These dreamers shoulders have hunched
Under the weight of textbooks and GPA's
The fingers that spewed color like a 64 pack of Crayola crayons
Aimlessly type out the final paragraph of an essay
The cavern in my chest, that was filled with infinite possibilities and wonders and questions that I longed to answer
Now sits
Empty
Instead of looking for mountains to climb
My aged nine-year-old mind
Searches for the college that will accept me
Not even the real me
Not the seeker of possibility
Not the tree climber
Not the wannabe fingerprint artist
They will take prim and proper not-nine-year-old me
the one who tells her mom she’s gonna major in finance but she hates math
The one who’ll have a steady 9-5 that’ll numb her skull and make her contemplate if death can come from boredom
A coffee tainted room of pencil skirts and high heels
Instead of her favorite blue jeans and Chuck Taylors
A nice job that’ll pay well but only for the price of her nine-year-old originality
But she only tells her mom that because it sounds like a real job
A not nine-year-old treehouse living
Cave exploring fantasy
I mean, I have to move on from that dream.
It's time to be practical
Actual
Logical
Now instead of making up new words
I learn definitions of the ones that already exist
Instead of painting with my own colors
I use the ones handed to me
Because its practical
Actual
Logical
Its how it should be.
I am no longer nine years old
Far from it at that
And yet,
I still long to touch the stars,
just a little less
I still want to search for treasure
But just as an afterthought
My eyes are still glowing with wonder
Just a little bit duller
Nine-year-old me isn’t dead
She just
grew up

Staring at a reflection
Watching for clues
Waiting for signals
But I'm never allowed to lose
Weight
Fat
No flat stomach left
And thin hairs mar
The one you're left with
Your body protrudes underneath your
Bra-line and
It makes you want to cry
Your butts still good
But you fearfully watch the
Jiggle of your thigh

Your body is all you've ever had
Your teeth are yellow and
Your hair loves to be bad
your nose is chipped and angled
Your skin mangled with spots and
Scars
Marred
Imperfect
Only the mirror makes you smile
But photos lack the style of
'Attractiveness'

You feel you can only look like you
In person

But now you have to search for the good
You know they would have you do that.
Okay, I like the practicality of my body.
Where I have stood, there has stood
Health, a wealth of love in
Laughter lines
I love the lines of my muscles
Count my contours,
Feel I'm fine when I breath in my
Cheekbones, hate the stress filled
Frown lines
Never forget the time I
Looked and found myself

Too thin
Too tired
Too wired up
To find myself
Too injured.

Never regret
And never forget
The point I realised
At least imperfect
Allows for 'happy'

It seemingly oscillates from
The realm of practicality to that of blatant absurdity
A fearfully bold doubting Thomas of sorts
Embroiled in self-esteem issues
In constant conflict with itself
Sitting on the fence always
A pleasant consolation
And being a daredevil a fantasy
Nurtured in the remotest miniscule part of the brain
Tell me this aint fearless cowardice

Hey darlin’,  you make my soul feel like flying to the outer depths of the solar system, so that I may float effortlessly between time and dimension and truly feel alive.
Float here next to me, share this space with me.
There’s an asteroid river spiraling over our heads; swirling video game galaxies, and marshmallow-flavored stars.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore and they can’t make me substitute practicality for dreaming.
They can’t tell us what to believe in anymore.
We’re burning this city tonight, and we’re using your limits as fuel.