Got my background *****
Never my fault, I've tried
Don't even blame my fate
Everyone littered constantly
Put my life under many sweats

Had to wake up and run
Never turning back, just trying
When hardwork pays off
To get that taste in every level
Cramps transformed to rewards

It's a risk to root down deep
Staying in that mode unshakeable
That's how I'm growing through
With all these dirts beneath me
Strengthen my stem and blossom
On the surface like a lotus

Nov 2016 - The Fall Line


~

all the lines of man-made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting,
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution,
remaining hopelessly empty,
defining the watery soluble
inequality of null

~~

The Fall Line

first heard the phrase months ago in Argentina,
standing before the c-shaped Iguazu Falls

the fall line
where the crystalline basement rock
erodes away the oncoming soft sedimentary,
there, where,
a waterfall is nature-gifted

so intuitive, so obvious,
what else to call the water's owned edge,
line of demarcation,
where we grow captivated,
mesmerized, knee weak,
traumatized and tantalized

knew that instant when spoken,
The Fall Line,
saw inarguable symmetry to so many lives,
would be a someday poem

selective service phrases stored and
someday up recalled,
a thousand, maybe more,
waiting for the confluence of
time and place,
to be a mother

letting my fluid sac burst,
giving birth to a concoction symphonic,
the emotions waterfalling, cascading,
the precision, vision seconds,
when words

pour, gush, surge, spill,
stream, flow, issue, spurt

~~~

silently crafted in the weeks and months prior,
the unconscious drowning in ache and pain
of suffocating drudge sludge of everyday living

all the lines of man made yellows,
so tempting threatening...inviting
the subway platform, the street curb,
the highway divide
the double parallel equal sign that has no solution remaining empty, defining the inequality of null

the vision infection of the majestic fall line,
so accessible in an instance of overwhelm,
cornea implanted, the sounding call of sweet blissful
whatever

one more additional addiction unshakeable,
jumping from fall line to fall line,
it's the game I am played,
but the controller
is not in my possess

for the joy stick that drives my actions,
toys with me,
the human fool jumping
from fall line to fall line,
unsure of what he desires,

salvation or saving
11/26/16

The artichoke
With a tender heart
Dressed up like a warrior,
Standing at attention, it built
A small helmet
Under its scales
It remained
Unshakeable,
By its side
The crazy vegetables
Uncurled
Their tendrills and leaf-crowns,
Throbbing bulbs,
In the sub-soil
The carrot
With its red mustaches
Was sleeping,
The grapevine
Hung out to dry its branches
Through which the wine will rise,
The cabbage
Dedicated itself
To trying on skirts,
The oregano
To perfuming the world,
And the sweet
Artichoke
There in the garden,
Dressed like a warrior,
Burnished
Like a proud
Pomegrante.
And one day
Side by side
In big wicker baskets
Walking through the market
To realize their dream
The artichoke army
In formation.
Never was it so military
Like on parade.
The men
In their white shirts
Among the vegetables
Were
The Marshals
Of the artichokes
Lines in close order
Command voices,
And the bang
Of a falling box.

But
Then
Maria
Comes
With her basket
She chooses
An artichoke,
She's not afraid of it.
She examines it, she observes it
Up against the light like it was an egg,
She buys it,
She mixes it up
In her handbag
With a pair of shoes
With a cabbage head and a
Bottle
Of vinegar
Until
She enters the kitchen
And submerges it in a ***.

Thus ends
In peace
This career
Of the armed vegetable
Which is called an artichoke,
Then
Scale by scale,
We strip off
The delicacy
And eat
The peaceful mush
Of its green heart.

Do you remember the humid red that stained your cheeks?
Do you recall the sultry desire that overran your judgments?
Do you maybe reminisce on the unsynchronized gasping of needed breath?
Do you recollect on ripped clothing during insistent moments of unshakeable craving?

Because it was this unshakeable craving that controlled you, it overtook you and you forgot to resist. It was this unshakeable craving that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.  

Do you remember the burning of skin as you transferred heat?
        Or the pressing up against the door?
        Or curled toes?  
        Or the paralyzing quivers?
Do you recollect on the sweatiness amongst the heavy sheets?
Do you perhaps reminisce on how it felt like an addiction you couldn’t overcome?
Do you recall the “no-it’s-not”, but really it was?

Because really, it was.
It was the sum of these parts, but they oddly equated to more.                  
It was this “no-it’s-not”, when really it was, that let you remember, recall, reminisce, recollect on your sticky love.

Do you remember what it was?
Do you recall wanting, needing, yearning?
Do you recollect messy hair, breathlessness, than the stillness?
Do you reminisce on this quiet stillness?

Because it was this stillness that lets you remember, recall, recollect on, reminisce on your sticky love.

An Irish couple buy some fertilised duck eggs and they hatch.
But then they’re missing!
The cat is licking her lips.
Oh No!
They follow the cat to her snug in the barn.
She too has given birth.
Snuggled beneath the cat’s protective paws
Are suckling kittens and DUCKLINGS!

Had those dear ducklings hatched an hour earlier
Or later
They would have been cat food.
But around the birthing time Missus Cat was only a Mother,
Mothering anything that moved.

Mother Nature breeds such Motherly instincts.
A thing of Wonder.
A story that happens to be True.

Since then those ducks grew up
But still followed their “Mother”
Everywhere she went (within reason).
An unshakeable bond,
Lasting for ever.

Paul Butters

They say there is a stone that tethers the heart.

A stone that calms the mind, even in the most horrendous of storms.

A serenity stone.

We have spent centuries searching for this stone.

We have written letters of hope, expecting word on its whereabouts.

We have chased after those who appeared to be the stone, but they only proved to be jagged daggers of glass, white-hot and coated in venom.

They break at the slightest touch.

Yet they say there is a stone, one that is unshakeable, immovable.

A serenity stone.

We are in dire need of this stone, but with each passing day, we believe that these tales are mere fantasy.

Where we believe there to be hope, we find only torment.

Where we believe there to be solace, we find only cold abandonment.

As time marches forth, we are surrounded by those who have found their stone, and our mind grows darker, and hope withers away.

They say there is a stone, one that will not abandon you.

A serenity stone.

But we cannot find her, and we are slipping into madness.

It was September when you closed your eyes.

The trees were verdant and fat,
Their boughs abuzz with the fluttering of birds;
The warmth of pre-autumnal breezes, pale and whispering:
“Alive, alive,” as the breath in your lungs.

I rarely contemplated your absence
Not for lack of trying, I assure you
It’s just hard to miss something you never really had
Not altogether impossible, but difficult, nonetheless

I could not miss you as my tongue
Could miss the taste of sugar sweet;
As my hand
Could miss the hand of a lover fair;
As my mind
Could miss the dulcet caress of poetry
Poignant and soft;
But I could miss you still, blood of my blood
As your presence should grace my thoughts faintly
Like some spectral invader---
A sometimes patriarch beguiled.

I dreamed of you the day mother informed me
Your eyes had finally opened.

The trees had worn thin by the time of my visitation
I could see them rapping between your blinds,
Scratching the glass in a hallowed colloquial,
The language of arboreal appendages fading:
“Alive, alive,” but just barely.

It was October.

Your days and dreams and dalliances
Compartmentalized into a series of sterile routines:
The steady drip of morphine
Into your veins;
The turning of your body,
In bed,
At the passing of each half day;
The fluids vacuumed,
From the hole in your throat,
At a quarter till every hour.

Your body became a clock, defected
Feebly measured in the perfunctory gasp
Of your heart’s meticulous monitor

It was just a week shy of November, and you were waning.

Haunted by those seventy-one years,
Long-lived, painfully slow,
Taunting you from the fraying end,
Of an agonizingly short rope---
Seventy-one years, and all it took
For the months to drop, skittering away,
Was the blink of a bloodshot eye.

It was October, but it should have been September.

That ruddy, porous grin,
The bullfrog blues of your grandfather’s smile,
Now made far and few between
By your unabashed lassitude,
By your hesitance to meet the gaze of another,
By your impatience at the sound of voices,
Talking about you like you weren't there.

You were a big guy, I noticed
I never realized how much so until I saw you
Laid up and sprawled unnaturally upon a hospital bed
Little more than an invalid,
Unable to lift a finger, even to catch
The choking, viscous saliva that would dribble,
Infantile and unbidden down your chin;
Unable to speak.

The catatonia fooled you, unbeknownst,
It pried the words from your swollen mouth
With skeletal, sable fingers,
Leaving penitent ghosts in their wake
So that your lips were moving, muttering,
Pressed with the phantom vocalizations
Of what half-formed apologies needled their way into your mind;
Of what no sounds produced
You even tried to tell me you loved me---
Though the affections never quite came to fruition,
I felt your taciturn ruminations, regardless.

I suppose that was a start.
You were near an end.
But it was a start, nevertheless.

Inhabiting the mere space of a windowpane
Inside of yourself as you were,
Your eyes remained outgoing:
At times they contained boredom,
At others longing or contempt,
And within those murky depths, I swear I recognized
The unshakeable, abject face of terror.

So much change for so little provocation:
The leaves outside, they rustled;
Cars continued their coming and going on distant highways;
The soothing azure of the day dampened,
Corroded by the cold, unrelenting hand of a changing season;
Gradually, the sun rose and fell.

It rose and fell:
(Your chest) rose and fell.
(Your face) rose and fell.
(Our hearts) rose and fell.
It always stayed the same.

And in your vacant, unwavering gaze,
Always something different:
The deathly vestige of repentance,
Folded between the window’s shade;
The laughing, lilting silhouette,
Of days forever passing;
And you, unmoving,
In that hospital bed,
A sharp juxtaposition to your caretakers
And their mock celebration:
“Alive, alive!”

But those saintly visitations of shadow and climate
Rapping against the window,
Waltzing across the far wall of your antiseptic prison,
They bespoke celebrations of their own,
Callous facts you knew all too well:

“It’s October, Tom. Autumn is here.
And you shouldn’t be.”

My beautiful walking Angel,
please don't fly away.

It was only you who could lift
me, from the darkest night and
days
of life without her.

My walking Angel.

He talks as though he has one foot
above,
he walks this earth afloat
already. Leaving me fitfully to
wait, in my safely anchored boat.
He's so sure of his inadequacy,
yet I would gladly soak myself in fear,
just so that I could have him near.

Sweet glorious Angel.
Clipped wings yet so ready to fly.
If you were to die, then part
of me would surely go too.

I'm already bound to you.

We both chose immediately to
shield that which makes us,
from others,
yet to each other, we managed not
to yield to the temptation of
our defences.
In spite of the offences of those who've
gone past, leaving a lasting brand
in our skin,
of each terrible individual sin.
Each scar wrought within.

Innocent Angel.

I am completely vulnerable to you.
Usually so overly aware of danger,
I have already, affectively,
sworn my life to you.

This next page is yours.

Dangerous Angel.

Whether you lift me up to fall,
or pull me down to drown,
I shall walk where you tread.
A breadcrumb trail of tears in my wake,
as I am shaken awake from your
dream
Your soul left to rest in the gleam of
my eye.

An unsnuffable candle
to guide you back to me.

Athiest Angel, I was asleep before
you came
and awoke me with your kiss,
jerking my heart from it's
Ivy covered cage,
our instantaneous gauge
of our compatibility
creating a feasibility
of merging.

Gentle Angel.

You took my beating soul
and gouged it with
a caress,
spelt your name
and my destruction,
with your irresistible seduction
of vulnerability,
and tranquility
of purity.

My tender Angel.

Your knifepoint was always fated
for my ribs.
Take me with you if you leave,
allow me to anchor-
no better- hold you,
and embolden you to be
whatever the ******* want to be.

With your battered suitcase of a soul.
How many more kicks can you take
before they pack you in?
The irony in that the sin was never yours.
I abhor those who chose to lord over you.
Please come aboard my raft of
defiance, which is learning the science
of your chemistry.

Darling Angel.  

I do not wish you to fall or fly,
instead remain afloat,
allow me to paddle my unshakeable boat
towards you,
with a view of amorous intentions.

My salvation,
who will surely be
my downfall,
my Samson.

I know what you have undone.

Me.

It’s hard to describe the way I feel,
When you walk into the room.
You make me want to get in the kitchen and cook,
So I can see you pat your stomach in satisfaction.
You make me want to bring you a cold beer while you lay on the couch,
So I hear a sigh of relaxation escape your lips.
You make me want to act foolishly,
So I can see you smile and hear you laugh.
You make me want to kiss you deeply,
So I can taste you and feel you pressed against me.
You make me want to drop to my knees,
So I can feel your fingers curled in my hair.
You make me want to be the soft pillow you rest against when tired.
You make me want to be the warm wet ***** you *** in every night.
You make me want to be the coffee in your cup every morning.
In short, when you walk into a room,
I get this intense, unshakeable desire,
To be the thing that makes you happy for the rest of your life.

A Beast that knows of no boundaries
An Alpha Wolf with Razor Sharp teeth and a Million red Claws
Machine responsible for the Evisceration of the Masses throughout the Generations
Deaths most sinister creation
A Ferocious Fiery Filled Fury
The Aborted child of Mother Merry
Natures Cold-hearted Killer
King of Manipulative mind games
An immoveable object
An unshakeable feeling
Corrupts a being of all Good reason
A form of Natures cruelest Treason

So, this is how it ends. In the tests of generous love, we defied all of mankind, but something in this heart of mine is telling me it’s time to stare down the eye of destiny.
I’ve hunted black holes of silence to find peace, and in turn that darkness has swept me into an unshakeable fever. I feel like I’m forever breaking. I feel like I’m always digging for the feel of something new.
When the silence of the world holds me, and when I am agonized with disquiet, I find myself thinking the good times may never come back again.
There’s a specific, maddening breed of danger out here on the edge, and final understanding.
Sitting here with my feet dangling into the void, I’m watching the sun crash from the sky into the horizon, and there is golden fire sailing along the edge of the mountains.
I know the echo that is love; I hear its brontide footsteps fading into the faraway distance, as if somebody is slowly turning down the volume.
Like a machine shaking and shuddering with voltage, I’m giving in to whatever moves me.
Whatever moves me.

She is the angry burn of alcohol.
The choking feeling when you've taken too many shots
in too little time.
She is the fire in your chest when brave little you took a hit bigger than the clouds in the Seattle sky.
She is the unmistakeable
unshakeable
fear
brought on by the bad acid trip.
The pinch,
poke,
& sting
of the needles in your arm.
She is the abused substances
and she is the abuse
that drove you to them.
She is twice as addictive
three times as dangerous
and there are no Twelve Steps
or support groups
or miraculous stories of survival.

You'll never be clean again.


*s.mndi

The monumental image of this memory depicts
half of a man.

What makes this image monumental
is the unspoken truth
behind strong, naked feet
dancing and
kicking up dust
on top of a soap box.

Unshakeable emotions
warp this memory's
crowd of many
nameless faces,
pinching cheeks into malice
for a few,
long hours.

These malicious expressions may
be the result of the dust storm
filling in the blanks
for lots of people
collectively trying to ignore something.

Authorities have concluded that time
cannot heal a wound
if the hourglass has cracked,
so,
the memory goes on,
amassing
confusion, chaotically
like this television screen
showcasing half of a man
dancing
on top of a soapbox.

to idolize a segregated love
against fear, that knows nothing of failure, hurt, destruction
to cage evil, to make evil, by making cages
and to venerate, righteously, some ideological and illogical heaven
to loose sight, of the dark
and be blinded, in sheer light
is to forget beauty,
real beauty
is lost in piousness
in gross
over simplifications
in staunch
suppositions,
unintelligent
and heartless,
some dreary
mundane
banality;
and to lose beauty,
is to lose life.

without death you are dead
and if there were only good there would be no good at all
and truth is true by falsifiability

never lose sight of the terror
that waxes at beauties heart
with trembling and real love,
shaking for the unshakeable,
and put demons in their place next to angels,
bring shadows to the light,
or you'll know nothing
of great dreams
of shifting colour and hue
and shade and shine
and here we are
and here
we are

I say
give me it all,
I'll refuse nothing,
grant me totality,
hand in hand with
my union-
godly
I am for wholeness-
divided
I am for
the world

I am a lover
feel, I need to feel
I am a lover
sense, I need to sense
I am an artist
see, I need to see

this
reality:

here,
to hide nothing
to hide nothing
to
hide
nothing

and see
forever!

It's so easy to slip and fall
living recklessly
choices
so many temptations, making exceptions of ourselves, thinking just this time won't matter
Masters of our dreams that we are, looking for shortcuts to bliss
at a certain point we gain enough wisdom to understand the general direction of the path taken by each step
and still we do wrong
to climb takes purpose, conviction, courage, and faith
strength
we all are here together
on this Earth
we, this energy, individualized consciousness in one form
united in another
ascending
this deep strength inside, life
unshakeable, doubted, tested, proven, deluded, emerging
alignment with the path of light
beam like the sun
ego splits the spectrum, the colors taking each dimension of the self into realities,
dreams and nightmares
take it straight
give in to your happiness, give in to your despair, give in
create space for the feelings to flow
invite freedom and peace through honesty
face the truth, speak it, confess
then fly,
the darkness holds no power once given to the light
admit your fear, admit your perceived fault, admit, admit
its your self
love who you are
it may seem terrible
oh, how can anyone see this ugliness?
How can anyone see this wrongness?
How can anyone see this imperfection?
Vulnerability
We love you anyway, and we understand, its in our nature too, we can't help ourselves, oh wait we can
stop the excuses, they don't matter, and you know they weaken you
run run run run run run
grasping
controlling
making ourselves powerless through our story
STOP
be free
write a different song, with a new tune, where you succeed with
will POWER
do whatever it is right now, to make your self better, it could be just taking a breath, do the next thing, right now, alignment, forgiveness, what do you want? self destruction? its all leading you to the same place, the school of hard knocks? the revolving door of opportunity? leading to the escalator, down the hallway, into the door, and there you are, in this moment, fully awake to this feeling, that you are more than flesh, more than bone, more than material, more than thought, more than emotion, more than logic, more than the circumstance, more, and its all crashing together, and it seems unbearable, and you squirm, and you medicate, and you run, and you keep coming home, and routine, and work, and struggle, and succeed, and fail, and crash and burn, and build, and die, and live again, and love again, and destroy, and forgive, and say sorry, and the cosmos explode, and all the suns burn out, and the loop is endless, our choices we make now reverberate into eternity, ****, then we smile, and we laugh, because…..whatever….wait no….there was a glimpse, a space…a feeling…a moment…..of serenity…..peace is a pebble amongst the blinding storm…….pick it up….be friends…look in the mirror….see the pebble in your eye…….deeply, deeply stare……say I love you…….feel the love….the waves flow over your spirit……love is your spirit…..life is love……..we are love…….I love you

Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave
A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart
Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the
Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can
Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face.

Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these
Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing
On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged
Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden
Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing.

Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we
Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into
Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a
Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk
By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made
Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain.

Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through
Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only
I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I
would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are
Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.

I looked to the western sky at sundown and I saw it as the Canvas of God.

I stared into the deep infinity of the night sky and imagined every star a pin-***** in the fabric of the black horizon, offering tiny glimpses of the Light on the other side.

I came to realize that heaven was to be found in the moments after sleep consumes the intellect and just before dreams tease the spirit.

I feared inner peace and sought distraction to the point where distraction took the place of inner peace, and I was content with it.

I sought to deny myself thoughts, beliefs, experiences…to sacrifice them to a code I thought prohibited them.

I tried to do the right thing when most of the time I hadn't a clue what the right thing was. I learned that "the right thing" has more to do with luck than any result of good motives.

I celebrated diversity and sought to tear down the walls of intolerance. I firmly believed that you should do unto others as you would have others do unto you.

In regards to how others lead their own lives I added this amendment" "Mind thy own business".

I closed my eyes and thought "This is all there will ever be". And so I taught myself to love darkness.

I opened my eyes and thought "This is all there will ever be". And so I taught myself to love light.

A guru led me into a place within myself that was neither light nor darkness and he told me "This is all there will ever be". He told me that if I wished to find it again I must empty myself and surrender to the Supersoul. It was then that I realized I knew nothing.

I wanted to be a philosopher. I wanted to be a priest. I wanted to be a hero. I wanted to be a famous rock star. I wanted to be a mentor. I wanted to be a scholar. I wanted to be a Marine. I wanted to be a champion. I wanted a lot of things. Too many things.

I listened to a great man's words…."You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need." And so I tried.

I noticed that the numbers on calendars never went backwards.

One morning I saw a storm brewing in the eastern sky and I gave God a high five.

I was told that "good things come to those who wait"…I'm still waiting to see if that's true.

I willingly lost myself in the dreams of others, then felt used and manipulated when the credits began to roll.

I satisfied my soul with poet's nonsense.

I was content with someone else's song.

Memories kept me from believing that all the things I thought were real were vapors all along.

I spent all my life searching for the meanings of some things I was never meant to know.

A strange thing, that the more I really loved someone the less inclined I was to tell them how much. As if "they should know by now" was good enough." Many were the times such logic turned against me and proved me an idiot.

I proposed that loving someone grants them entrance into your heart, where they will dwell until the day you die. I like to think that, of all the foolish notions I've entertained, this one is an unshakeable truth.

the day ends, dusk approaches
i sit across from a glaring monitor.
eyes glazed over, mind aflutter.
information streams into my brain in waves
(only some of it managing to stick).
i try my hardest to soak it up, and to let it wash over me,
wash my troubles away.
in a way, instead of bottling my trouble,
i wrap my shaking hands around it forcefully
plunging its head under the murky water
to muffle the yet inescapable drone that follows me
(but it won't give up the ghost
and my arms get tired sooner than stress will set me
alight from my cage).

see, i've had this
unshakeable
feeling lately.
between the hi's, hello's, and how do you do's
this sense of incredible, indelible
dread
looms over me like a weight.
beneath the paper mache mask of humor,
avoidance of heavy topics,
and general gleam that is the man everyone knows of me,
there's a boy
and he's confused, having feelings he's never had before
wondering things and asking questions,
experiencing things that he never read of in health textbooks,
attachments, bias, beliefs, respect, and fear of failure,
learning things the hard way that he never would have expected
(having read only about mockingbirds and shakespeare).
he bottles these thoughts and doesn't know where to put them,
scrambling to pick up the pieces in a flush of embarrassment,
hoping no one will call him out as the
******.
("what? no! i got 100% on this test because i bs'd it so hard. i'd never actually try.
what am i? a
loser?")
he's alone and he's
stressing, calculating, hoping, dreaming, loving, hating, lusting, wailing, and
teetering on the edge of the precipice of the
abyss that
whispers
softly, soothing, sultry.

but the tricky part isn't the looming weight,
nor the calling and the teetering;
i could almost bear its press on my shoulders almost to the point of breaking
or the tremble accompanied by a height that i couldn't possibly comprehend.
but some nights
it,
(and i mean this
dread)
it,
twists above me and wraps around my neck.
and what scares me most of all is that sometimes it feels
comfortable
like a breath of air escaping from the very furthest corner of my lungs.
or a promise,
a secret panic door
with the key to a lock that i know i'd never open.
it coils around me like a noose attached to nothingness.

It was harsh,
It was cruel,
It wasn't beautiful,
You leave me at the end of the road, alone.

It was agonizing,
It was ruthless,
It wasn't perfect,
You took a detour, leaving me at the sahara, alone.

I was stranded,
Unable to walk nor crawl,
As I laid on the burning sand of the desert  i stared into the sun, hoping it will take my sight away and drain this well of love i have dug for you.

I did not ask for much,
I just want to be loved.

Nakanai,
I am tough,
Hard as a rock,
Unshakeable,
Nakanai,
Nakanai,
And i cried.

suffocated in the grip of the unshakeable hands of sorrow and guilt
devoured by the mouth of depression
devoured by the mouth of depression and ****** into a pit in the stomach of despair
there's something familiar in the pain i try so hard to escape
my pain mimics me, deep down I fear its too late

Something very special is happening to the world right now.  I will do my best to describe it.
Not only are we nearing the peak of suffering, darkenss, and evil in the world, we are also
nearing a complete unfolding of the purest, truest, beauty, peace, and love that is greater
than humanity has ever experienced.  This is truely a cathartic time.  Savor it, treasure it, and learn from it.

On a personal level, since January 1st, 2015, I feel like my soul is on the brink of simulatenously bursting with
joy and love as well as sobbing in old hurts.  Sometimes when the pain and love in our hearts reaches a critical
level, a major emotional release is made and that is called a catharsis.  I have been riding along one giant,
prolonged catharsis since Jan 1st.  It is somewhat like a fantastic ****** that never ends.  How bad can that be?

The best part of my life right now is not knowing what will happen next; whom I will meet tomorrow; and what
crazy, amazing situation I will find myself in.  I have this unshakeable and deep feeling that 2015 will be a pivotal
year in my life.  It is like passing through the eye of a needle, and on the other side is the unventured, the unknowable,
the great mystery.  This is both a terror and also completley thrilling.  I sense that 2015 will be a year to remember
for humanity.  Whatever happens, will have some measurable mark on all of us.

So what do I do with this?

Enjoy it. :-)