Biting the sides of gums until they bleed,
My knees are tapping like a Royal rodent’s limp.
Stiff backed rage tries to leave
Tether them together
And simply simply stare red-eyed
Into the tunnel of fate
To seethe production, redemption from regular habit;
Parallel disassociation that blends
Like a thick painful smoke
That kin breathe together.
My legs would take me away for the horizon,
In green where winds blow smooth and wild,
Carrying blessings through blossomed doors from open hearts.
The world would seem a little less Grey that day…
A stream of water to be,
No more volcanoes.
In ten thousand different directions
Treble, Bass, and in-between,
Through puddles, grass, and dry concrete,
Rushed or Slowed,
Some walk on their tippie-toes
Through day and night,
Through Sun and Moon,
And Smiles and Fright.
Some throw change at him,
Not many polite,
Again and again
He chants to the tapping feet,
The money song
Of god and bless
And please and thanks.
Through hail and storm,
With coats that tore,
Through icy thaw,
The wind is the only change.
The Tapping Feet
Become bored of grey faces.
The song becomes the city
Like the birds and the trees
And the change and the please.
And the bee’s knee’s
The latest trend
Will it ever end?
He see’s the lesser angels
Of true nature.
Like a lame eagle watching
Prey make it’s own way
‘Till it’s end.
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All of the thousands of bristles travelling across the tips of my fingers,
And let me touch his chin to comfort my autistic hands,
To calm my waves of cerebral feeling.
My ocean of vitality
And manic energy
Tamed by touch
I brushed my hands along the fabric,
The linen and cloth button tops
And the smell of deodorant in the morning
That smelt like my dad and no other.
That used to lift me out of slumber,
Those grey streaks of wisdom
That knew the right thing to do
Turned to white.
In the night I remember
My own lonely fright
I followed a man
Who showed me what’s right
Now I have my own chin of bristles,
My own calloused hands,
And I see how we have always waded through the darkness.
Hand in hand in hand
If you liked this post, then check this out. Much love.
Wrote this a while ago in a more contemplative phase of my life. Thought I would share it with you today:
Being is old
And we’re here for the new.
Putting up fences,
Keeping eyes away
From our grace
Hidden in Papers,
Food, and Electric buzzes;
The two of us, walled into
So many hearts
Hidden in warm cages,
Nerves moving toward the edge,
But never quite falling
Shoes on soft grass,
I can only hear the difference.
We’re the disinfected people
Out of ease
In our ease,
Sometimes the sun shines,
The warmth grows inwards
Until we can hear the birds singing
‘Till the flittering screens come,
And we think
Those thoughts so many times repeated,
Unaware of our death
Of past and future
With the fear of never having lived
The one who walks slowly by the wayside
Found salvation in touch of the bark,
The sight of the colours became beautiful,
Time was fluid and vivid.
Slowly he watched,
It looked like water.
Written by Jacob Ibrag
You owe no one. Time has been allocated towards your existence. Each breath accounted for. Guilt is a weapon of internal destruction. It’ll tell you to do things, uncharacteristic to your identity. It’ll tell you to keep the peace, to abide according to the majority. You owe no one, not even […]
via You Owe No One — Eyes + Words