Wednesday Motivation  

Far too often, we succumb to the paradox of self inflicted reality. Building walls out of debris. Setting snares of defense mechanism in the wake of past betrayal, misery and heartbreak. Daring those to run a gauntlet and battle memories that haunt us. Desiring love but too afraid to seize it, we seek out warning signs for self sabotage. Justifying reasons as to why we should not try. Chaining down our souls for fear to falling..when we try to fly. True strength doesn’t come from being fearless. It comes from embarassing fear and understanding it’s cunning mastery. Then find the faith inside us to break free of old cycles… believing others the same way we want them to believe in us. Truth is; not everyone will deceive us. 

It’s the strength that many seek, yet hard to understand. We continue living our lives, hiding behind a mask that seperates true beauty we have within. We fear..we fear that society will never understand, what we hold deep within. Now is the time to unleash all our powers into the universe. It’s time to start walking on this earth without a mask. Cut the chord to your past and destroy the ego!!! You’ll never know the strength you have until you face your fears. Align your mind, heart and soul. Then watch how the negative things will turn into positive. All these things can be done when we see without seeing…and believe in the powerful unknown.

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Behind the Eyes

I’ve seen the vacant stare

The visible symptom of the internal

need to shut off from that which

we don’t want to recognize.

If we see nothing, we know nothing.

We don’t want to acknowledge the

responsibility, the trauma, the truth

Behind the eyes we feel pain

and sorrow and grief and a million

tears that never fall.

We are not dead behind the eyes.

There is strength you’ll never know

In staying alive and awake and

functioning through this need

to refuse all the truth.

We’re only refusing it to you.

If you knew it all, you could

only add to it, a risk not

worth taking. Ever.

Symphony of Silence

And languish takes wings

to sprawl on the floor–

bones knead gristle of rug,

skin leaps into the arms

of that favorable burn–

Breathe, breathe, sweat…

Then make like dead to the ceiling,

make like dead–

the plexus soars,

the soul falls

into the bosom of the earth,

floor by building floor…

Through the chatter,

through the silence,

through piercing frequencies of life,

through the lobby,

into the ground,

deeper and deeper

till there is no sound…

Then race back to breathless

through the matrix yet again–

floor by floor,

this time to the crown

where exhales gather,

laughing softly as they dance

through the ceiling

and floor by floor to the roof,

into the night…

Woodwork spinning.

Building still.

Chakras spinning.

Hours stilled.

A beautiful piece of nothing

plays…

That symphonic nothing,

before everything comes galloping

through the windows again…

 

Loner

Loner, a characteristic of philosophers

Great thinkers, of sublime intelligence

World is a fragment of imagination

Solitude gives birth to dazzling brilliance

Herds are meant for sheep

Tigers hunt alone

Imagination is an art, that needs seclusion

To be honed

Oh such romanticization

Of a reclusive life

Not everyone is a savant

Some are just nyctophiles

In love with the darkness of their hearts

They are called introverts

Not because they can’t talk

Just their feelings are ineffable

A nomadic lover

Who would be in their abandoned castle

Than in the desert of companionship

In the unrequited love instead of shackles

Passion

My veins throb while my blood moves along the lines of its’

walls. That’s what tells the world that keeps me alive.

So much so that I breathe and survive.

Let me tell you a secret though.

I live through air that my passion pumps me in.

I breathe the oxygen that poetry breathes out.

Do we really need trees?

As unscientific as this whole scribble may look, I sing to the

birds of my own town, about the grains of words that I eat

everyday.

Dear birds in the sky,

Do you make a nest out of twigs? Hey! Do you fly?

And you do get suffocated by all the clouds pouring acids of

factories, right?

Still you fail to give up on the majestic sky that recites you

about every universe that exists and more.

Don’t you?

So do I.

I know how you feel.

I weave my home out of words too. Just as your nest.

I fly with the wings of my thoughts. Just as high.

Talk about suffocation!

I have been in a room with ample amount of oxygen studying

a subject and yet somehow failed to take a breathe-full  in.

Not even slightly, not enough for my lungs to survive.

There is this love that handles all the metabolism in within me.

Passion that feeds my body to an extent that it measures

depths of seas within me.

And heights of the mountains around my imagination.

There is a world beyond this world.

The world I see.

The world that my poetry recites.

The world that I say is “mine”.

The world is my passion speaks to me of.

In which I see things differently.

I breathe differently.

I survive differently.

Because,

A body of organs is always weird without a soul of passion.

Disguise

Time tells the truth. Actions can speak for themselves, however can sometimes vague if it occurs once. If one promises to stop a bad habit yet they continue to do it, the habit becomes part of their character forever. To remove it after time has passed is to change their overall character, since what they relied on the most to be unique. Take it away and they have nothing left. Bad habits are manipulate. They are addictive, and they mutate reality. They make the facts seem like a hoax. Better yet, bringing attention that they have a problem is the hardest problem to solve. They do not think they have a problem since that is what the addiction tells them. It wants them to think there are no repercussions. It wants them to think they are not hurting anyone around them, or better yet themselves. Because that is its purpose. That is the objective of addiction. How do you state the facts to someone that only thinks fiction? It is impossible, and that is the reality of it. Well, for the short-term it is. By the time they see the effects it will be 10, 20 maybe 30 years down the line, when the addiction has taken its final toll on them. With that habit they were bound to end up like that. One small bad habit caused misfortune down the line. Fate has such a remarkable disguise.

Feeling Alive 

I don’t think there’s a time in my life where I’ve truly felt alive, 

And by now, I’m sure you’re aware of the fact that I’d hate to lie.

Due to this I would not make up a story about how one one time I climed Mount Everest. 

I surely would not write about how once you held my hand and I was on cloud nine.

That’s just not me because it simply is not true.

I can only imagine what it would be like to feel alive though.

Being an adrenaline junkie, I could imagine it being the most extreme adrenaline rush ever,

and I’ve had some intense adrenaline rushes.

I can practically feel the way the breathe would be knocked out of me.

I would be heaving for some sort of relief. 

I would need to supply my broken lungs with extra, extra oxygen.

My body would shake due to such a sudden decrease in complex, abstract thought. 

Almost like a caffeine or sugar rush.

The world around me would brighten up and haze over. 

I could only compare it to a Mayfair filter. 

I don’t think I would know what to do with myself, 

And maybe that’s why I’ve never felt alive truly.

My body would crave for a feeling like that again,

But I could never quite get there. 

I know not to get my hopes up.

To be more clear,

yes I would like to feel alive. 

To counter,

I’m sure I would survive the lasting effect of having such high expectations.

The world would be more boring than it already feels.

I’m not sure how to survive or cope with that. 

It’s like been the sun and you know you can shine, 

but you can’t. 

It’s like knowing how the world ends yet you don’t know when. 

If I felt alive, my world would end. 

I just don’t know what I’d do. 

Because of that it is not safe to ever do anything that could trigger that much dopamine. 

To replace his feeling I’ll just eat s’mores and ride rollercoasters. 

This would, hopefully, make me forget I ever wondered what it would be like in the first place.