My Money

I hear that
Money is the root of all evil

Interesting

The only thing I know about money
is that it’s only valuable when it departs
So having a large sum of money means
A great departure
Something similar to
The improvement of spiritual well being
After an exorcism

Get more money
Spend more money
Getting more money means
Spending more money

Just to acquire more things we regard
as personal possessions
and I wonder if when we possess a thing
if it’s in the same way
that a spirit possesses a body
If it does
then that possession requires a bit of spirit
a spirit that can be spread exceedingly thin
If a person were to possess
A multitude of things

but that’s a tale to tell on another night

 

 

It doesn’t seem to make much sense then
to make money
To invite the demons
their curses and their burdens
just to see an improvement
just to see spiritual well being
improve to a point
that it would have been without such an ordeal

Or maybe
they only become demons
If we invite them
and make them stay
Longer than they should

 

Interesting

 

So what I surmise
There is something going on
That we don’t realize

This might be unrelated
it’s possible
It’s in my mind but it’s still debated

 

I feel

there is an unhealthy infatuation

with preservation

 

Using immortal tombstones and pictures
Depictions that don’t age
We hold on to our beloved cadavers
with tender love and reverence
sometimes neglecting those who are still alive
Until we can hold onto them
with tender love and reverence
of course
when they become corpses

Unless of course
We can reanimate the corpse
steal the souls of the living
Like a lover
a friend
any kind of loved one
whom we abuse
or refuse to let go of
Because they give life to some amiable memory
Or a traumatic moment not fully forgotten
Some fleeting feeling
Transformed into a spiritual succubus
That gathers life energy for its master
Leaving one to wonder why
they feel so drained

 

From my perspective
it’s not life
but preservation that we consider so precious
I say so because
Life
Moves

I’ve never seen something so well preserved
also be the same thing that seems so alive
And I don’t think I ever will
Everything I’ve seen immortalized
was either dead
or completely still

Except the one time
it was caged
I only knew it was alive
Because it would sing
I know why

Sometimes
We waste life
waiting for something
that gives us a reason
to appreciate the very thing
that we trade for it
and then wonder why
time always seems to be slipping away

Bringing us closer…

 

 

The Fear of Death
The Fear
Fear

Well hello there
Friend
Forgive my loose use of the term
I’ve met your cousin Arnold
What an interesting character he is
Although I can never find Waldo
if you’re ever in the realm of my view
I can always see you
Friend
You once designed my whole world
been in my life for so long
I wonder what else you could be

As strong as you are
I know there is a villain
much more powerful than you
Your Master
The Feeling of Inadequacy

A Debilitating Deity
Demanding immolation from its subject
The fearsome entity
Which gathers gifts from its subordinates
The fearful
Who command the spiritual succubus
to steal
to distress
to oppress
to suppress
to depress
to cause stress

and money
or whatever it is concerning it
that causes corruption
is among a myriad of methods
it can use to do so

Like how a root
is a method
for a tree to gather nutrients

 

So I guess
that these whispers
About money, roots, and evil
may be more than just hearsay

And
Those that whisper
Just might be right

Perfect

(The lost poem of Chronicles of Chaos and Consonance)

The spirit of God keeps you alive
when all you want to do is to die and rest in peace,
provide peace to the pieces of your person that has fell apart
disfiguring and disassembling this work of art you call you
magnificent masterpiece all the way through
conned to believing that this is not true

Perfection is an illusion
colored by cleverly crafted confusion
Dangerous dream of deception and delusion
fantasy, fallacy, and factual fusion

Collected from the mind of Socrates
these things, these arts, these prophecies
What world? What realm? What place is this?
That the perfect chair, perfect table, perfect human exist?
The epitome of excellence, paradigm of pure
Faultless, flawless, foolproof to be sure
We see these things and give them names
because they are similar yet not the same
Call it a table, the four legs and a top
but what if it had three and yet did not drop?
Still does the job, and does it just fine
Even though it’s different than the kind in your mind
Three legged table is still a table in reality
Could that concept connect with concern to humanity
Different eyes, different hair, different faces and skin
All have Hearts, Lungs, livers and brains within
Different dreams, different thoughts and ideas from everyone
Same Earth, Same moon, Same stars, same sun
Perfect is precisely, exactly the same
as some other thing that has the same name
Perfect is a machine with no fault to blame
Flawed are the humans from whence it came
So if perfect can come from imperfect things
Reap all the blessings that imperfect brings
Take care of the things that are impeccably done
for they’re flawed for not being like the imperfect ones

Titan

I once watched a titan die
Watched him fall from the heavens
through a hole in the sky

saw him and the ground crash and collide
this fallen angel who heaven denied
nowhere to go and one place to hide
a colossal crater so deep and so wide

I waited and watched to see if it moved
saw no sign of motion no sign of improve
spontaneously so, there came an eruption
a violent volcano was my assumption

He rose and he roared as if ready for war
A fury and fire I’ve not seen before
Revelation, Retribution, Armageddon, doom
Vowed to violate and annihilate heaven soon

Threw fists in the air and made the earth tremble
Powerful forces of nature assembled
Hurricanes, Tornados, thunder and lightning
beautiful, breathtaking, fascinating and frightening

shot off to heaven in less than an hour
reached to the skies and lost all his power
once more like before he hurtled to the ground
but not like before
this one hurt more
and made a crater more profound

As the dust cleared and his figure appeared
it was surely an impact more intense than I feared
but I watched again as this cycle repeated
substantially more power but permanently defeated

he lay there in ruin as the time crawled by
as the sun watched him, the bright eye of the sky
no sign was given but it was implied
immortality gone, the titan had died

and then
Restoration, rejuvenation, revival, resurrection
impeccable, purified, pristine, perfection.
Completely renewed,
every part,
every section
A titan alive, rebuilt by correction

A titan reborn with power unrivaled
epitome of endurance, perseverance, survival
granted new freedom without limitation

A juggernauts power was his dedication
ventured to darkness to seize it all
seeking survival where weakest souls fall
Tactful and impactful with changes to bring
A titan once dead reborn as a king

I once watched a titan die
Lose a war to the heavens
and then watched him revive

Two Sides

It’s like the rise and fall
Of a heaving
Breathing chest and ocean waves
The days when you feel so brave
crave the most perilous of adventures
compared to the days
When an isolated itch has you afraid
Of some deep foreboding omen
Which stems not from the itch itself
But the mind which perceives it
Deceptions, tricks and inaccurate perceptions
What do you make of this?
Two faces of every human
as the heads and tails of a coin flip
If such concept exists
Can I always stay ahead
While you forever remain on my tail?
But why should such slaved conditions prevail?
When we are not the final design
that these lines of fate have drawn
Yet it has gone on
and long enough I might add
For we have found pain and peace
In our insignificance to things greater than we
In the the hallows of our own importance
and in all places in between
Though as I’ve postulated
countless times before
reiterated
that it is such ranking which pains us so
For as the head of the coin looks to the sky
The tail end sits on the table
It’s natural comfort with acrobatics
Allows it to stand on its head
Tail to the sky
Following a spin
A dance
A clicking and clanking
In all manner of ways

Quick Pome

It has been quite some time

Where

I manifest my feelings in the form of rhyme and I

Feel something strange

My thoughts are often lost

In an unfinished book of arbitrary cost and I

Haven’t felt what it’s been like to

Just write

A small little block

A footnote with a sock

A chance to touch my own insides

I Miss Me

I miss me
what I did with these words
how I moved them so swiftly
I miss me

I use to twirl them around
have them float off the ground
they would soar, they would fly
they would rise to the sky

They would dance to melodies so magic it made me…

It made me what?

I miss me

the locutions so lavish and lovely
competing with the clouds above me
forcing them to separate and show me heaven
so the sunshine would inspire them to dance again
they would dance, they would prance,
they would smile to no end
they would meet, they would greet,
they would all become friends
They would all be one nation
my children, my creation
they would form for me a masterpiece
fluently flowing not planning to cease
I and my eyes would swell with so much pride
at the beauty that I had pulled out from inside
but no more
I cannot write scriptures that I can adore
They do not dance as they once did before
they sit and they stare as if stuck to the floor
I went somewhere
I left them there
I feel guilty
My words and I miss me

Breathing

Breathe
Whisper to me silently, softly, smoothly and sweetly
your whims that float in the air, they fly, they glide discretely
aim them, guide them, dream them to the sky
If infestive secrets are your grievance then leave them with I…

The fingers of the wind, their gentle tender touch
but catching those locutions which truly mean so much…

Made to carry the scent of your desires
infants of the breeze
raised with ambrosial admire
such sweet majesty are these
which grow with delicate demeanor
gracefully glow like dreams of a dreamer