In The Eyes Of The Blind

i no longer am
allowed to have emotions

only symptoms

not seen as a person

only a victim

of circumstance
caught in a gothic romance
handicapped, a hysterical burden

i can’t grow in this soil i’ve been buried in.

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Soliloquy from the Psych’o’desk

~a glimpse of you~ 
~even a peripheral millisecond or two~

too much. too many.

to see your face
i know
all the ways i’d want to recognize you
have probably mutated into a dysmorphic snafu

just a crazed & confused squirrel gathering nuts for a job,
a total one-sided arms-race towards total self destruction…
well, as they say
“nutty is as nutty does”

(or something like that)

a soul long gone, sucked dry by a black hole
in the far depths of deep space 9

i don’t have to look to see
that a stranger moved in, insidiously
hindsight is always 20/20
but the past remains an enigma
it’s some cosmic villainy

though not that surprising
stranger things have happened
& impossible things are happening all the time

So.
if it’s at all possible,
in your eternal disgrace,

don’t bring that bloodthirsty dual faced zēlos anywhere close
to me & mine
not so much as a glimpse

stay hidden in the proverbial shadows

 

I’m taking responsible for the energy I allow to take up space in my soul
if you have nothing productive to contribute, you’ve got to go

go on.
shoo fly.

there’s no home for you here

Only Peace.





daily prompt: Simmer

aliengum

I revel in myself
with the simple phrase “I am.”

in this technicolor climate with city lights that blind so massive
an insidious canopy, puppeteering the masses with translucent threads made of impassiveness

I’m just another unorthodox soul sending smokescreen signals throughout the land
telling whomever listens that I’m worth a good goddamn

to flaunt one’s irregular imperfections so boldly is considered by many to be the work of dark magic

huduvoodoo

isn’t it tragic? for oppression to be so prominent without any mention of pragmatics?

I’ll keep growing into a galactic primadonna
pirouetting through vibrant nebulae
psych’o’delic wisps of cosmic slop swirling around my ankles
constellations forming from the curls of my fro’
dark matter fluff creating intergalactic diamonds in the rough

Yes I’m made of all of this and more, interestingly enough.

The Banished Ones vs The Aristocratics. I wonder, I wonder, who’s actions are truly more dramatic..?




“I am.”

maybe you too but I’m sure you already knew




thank you.






p.s. this my 200th post!

Swinging Ditty from a Misunderstood

[Author’s note: best if song is played when shown]


an Irish’d-coffee to warm the belly on an overcast morning. no plans for the day. a kind of day where casual walks takes me to wherever my feet decide, without a care in the world. While absentmindedly staring at my phone, a peculiar sound caught my ear.

[snap    snap    snap    snap    snap]

there he was. standing under a small pine tree on top of a hill.

a teen boy in skinny jeans and a tshirt 3 sizes too big, singing out in a booming baritone with a growling edge, snapping fingers keeping a steady groove…

taking another sip, I listened to what he had to say:

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
At least, that’s what the legend states
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
Nothin’ ever ever goes my way

As far back as third grade
teachers always would say
“Boy, ya ain’t nothin’ but trouble,
keep runnin’ ya mouth ya gonna get a muzzle!”

Not stopping to think maybe, just maybe
I was just a wee bit afraid

Not stopping to question, “Hey
maybe this kid knows a lil something about just how fucked up life is!
maybe we should [perhaps] do more than grill him [oh gosh maybe!]
about why he didn’t bother [who even cares?]
to finish his pop quiz!”

But noooooo, they called me Big Mouth
too smart for my own good
and the legend grew
throughout my childhood

I’m Mr. Big Mouth
just tryna make my way
Oh, Mr. Big Mouth
clashin’ with the birds of prey…..

i couldn’t help but notice that behind him was a high school in session & it was 10:30am on a weekday.
i walked over to him, so transfixed, i didn’t even question where the horns were coming from.

a general life rule of mine: if a street musician makes you stop and listen for a moment, you owe them a dollar.
i gave him $100.

THank y-you SO M-m-much,” his voice squeaked out, a puberty-wrecked contrast to the rumbling resonance of his song. He stuffed the bills in a pocket of a tattered bookbag that lay by his feet, overflowing with crumpled school papers. He flashed me a bright blended smile that revealed naivety with an undercoat of Sly.

i tipped my coffee to him with a grin and continued on my way. i heard a rhythmic snapping begin again as he faded away with distance.

I’m Mr. Big Mouth…





instrumental song credit: All Bets Are Off [Cuphead Soundtrack]

Can’t Blame Nobody But U

A message to a jaded vain prick
doesn’t matter what I say because here’s what I predict:

you’ll refuse to read between the lines, throw out context &
just talk about the juicy byline & combine what was said
into the guidelines to fit the confines
of this paperthin narrative that’s been inscribed

because not getting attention is just not a graspable concept
for someone so desperately trying to be characterized

as a victim

everyone’s out to “get you” in this system
I’m quite sure this fits a symptom
but here’s the twist in this depiction:

No one gives a fuck about inconsequential fabrications
Be yourself, not a delusional imitation

you’ll probably even think this post is about you
don’t you?

i’m not trying to condescend but this comes down to common sense
the only way to transcend
is to get right within

 

via Daily Prompt: Ascend

Come Bathe With Me

on this day, the Year of our Lord 2017, the 8th day of a month with no meaning

even after all this time here on this planet, I can still feel the deepdark sticky-icky clinging to my skin and mucking up my soul

truths untold. pure lies unfold.

unfolding on a tapestry made of the hair follicles falling from my head from stresses that need not to exist
i guess you could say i’m pissed

Anger, an emotion so powerful, it’s hard to resist
but to admit that such an emotion is necessary goes against every lesson i’ve been taught since birth

on days like this, i wish The Sun would shine, so bright it’d make me color blind
but the grey overcast skies offers little more than the hope that Our Lord will cry and rain down upon us, upon me

i’d stand in the downpour, wearing whatever fragments of cloth i happen to be wearing at the time, face up
the Holy Liquid dripping and flowing over my face, blinding me in a way-
not color blind
but leaving me, us, caught in time
human eyes closed, 3rd eye open, seeing things beyond…

ah but alas. on this day, i see no calmness from The Sun nor The Water

only grey.

in times like this, it is unfair to expect Mother Nature to give us everything needed at any given moment. She is busy, extremely overworked; and if recent events plaguing the U.S. and the rest of the world is any indication, she’s fed up and tired.

can’t say i blame her.

its time that i, we, make our own Holy Liquid to purify that deepdark sticky-icky
that affects us all, whether or not you’re aware of it

like a stranger in moscow, i’m still trying. trying to figure out how to break this curse mankind has created for itself. Mother Nature may have the answers, but we, mortals, don’t stand a chance of what’s to come.

UNLESS

we find our own way of purification. somehow i, We, have to get Mother Nature to trust us again.
but how….?

if i could i would give you the answers
but all i can do
is just offer you
this chance

to come bathe with me

Daily prompt:     Crescendo