The Phoenix-My DefinitionA mythical bird that never dies, the phoenix flies far ahead to the front, always scanning the landscape and distant space. It represents our capacity for vision, for collecting sensory information about our environment and the events unfolding within it. The phoenix, with its great beauty, creates intense excitement and deathless inspiration.
Cherries And Oilscherries and oils-I feel broken…Smashed upon the cherry colored hardwood floor…..Tear at my raw metaphors…As I grab this mirror and push my hand deep inside the icy glassPray on your knees…Deliverance never shows its godly head….It demands a payment beyond any other……..Like a pimp who beats his women in order to make them needy ………and I already sold my soul to the devil.Smear life fluids over the canvases….Crimson red flows from eyes and broken necked childrenWhere innocence is portrayed as being murdered….Raped by television and pop star icons………….Life………What an amusing little game we play…….With egos and ids ……………And how our lives are shaped, molded, welded into intricate patternsOf coincidences, disasters, celebrations…………And how we pretend we are so supreme….As our mother cries the night away….silently moaning inside of herself……And she steps in the other side of the looking glass….Look deep into your eyes……….That darkness inside your soul……..The empty space
Dreams Melting Into Realitydreams melting into reality-I am an addictwho confuses reality with dreamsand henceforthdreams with reality.I am a beingwho loves the feeling ofpublic transportation,moving faster thanany man or woman can runAll the meanwhile standing still,silent, deep in thought.Staring through the double doorsat the sky, who, alsostands still with me,murmuring enlightenment, deep in thought.as the landscapes moves ever so swiftlyaround us for what seems an eternity.This is the feeling of dreams,to continuously be in motion whilemy body remains in sleep.An addict of words, always searching,scanvenging, craving more,to be able to capture thisfeeling, emotion, thought.Isn't this what all writers suffer?their internal depression isbound between the covers of a dictionary.It is our dreams whichwe try to conceive into this world.a world where words, so simplistic-yet intricatecan create the most magnificent images,painted tales,constructed of our dreams,brought into our w
Silence That Burnsthe silence that burns in these veins-I can't help but think if you only knew all that I have seenyou would be sick to the stomach,It feels as though I am taintedand you are so pure and so unbroken.I assure you friend one day you will seethe world for all that it holdsand your ideals will crumble like that wall.Tainted black and blue,it's imprinted on me with invisible inkand I don't think your eyes can see it, for it is inside of me.And I feel so dirty, so used and worn.Compared to someone who has never felt their heat breakand never cried in the name of love.I feel old, wrinkled inside and out.SO I keep my mouth shut, zippered closedand I watch and listen as you ignore the reality of it.I think that I could pretend for awhile to be that innocent one….But ignorance is not something that I take fondly to.And I wonder where you get your ideas from,so humorous until the tables turn.And I wonder where you find the audacityto question me wanting to leave my
Spasmed Heart Achesspasmed heart aches-My heart spasmed todayAnd I thought of all I could have done.I would rather sleep eternity awayThan live this life, this world, this decay.Starting over again,The wind is becoming cleaner again,And its cries are crisper, clearer, and evident.Don't you just sometimes want to take flightand follow along with the winds with nothingbut their howls to guide you through the night?And I sit here contemplating, imagining,having already left in my dreams,wishing sometimes that it is reality, to be alone,drifting through this world, unbound, unkempt,un-forsaken to misery.To o nothing but bow down to the treesas I pass them inevitably and perhaps sitand talk with them of all they have been through and all they have seen.Yah so called Hippy-ideals andpeople always tell me the world will never turn that way.And I for some ignorant reason I can only think of that,of the world shifting into something so absolutely magnificent.I speak of millions of minds ope
Confessions Of Confusionconfessions of confusion-as a child i always wondered why there is so much pain in this world,i have now obsessed over how we can laugh and smilewhen there are people dying everyday, being murdered,raped and tortured every minute of the day.And with this thought i sought out those who were hurting,those who's pain could match that of my self hatred and depression.I sought out those who understood and had darkminds,where humour was sarcasm as well as morbidness.And with that i punished myself.I hurt myself because i was brought up believing it was fit.I punished myself to do what i thought they wanted.I would love to leave here to be somewhere where there is nosuffering, no delusions of once having had some great power,some great potentiel.Of once having lived on an earth to which this one could scarecely compare.I wish and beg to be somewhere where this lingering urge topeel back my skin and fly out could perhaps be fullfilled.I am a being of light.It's buried deep in
Universal KnowledgeUniversal knowledge-a collective mindhovering over my headfrom where i pull forthwords, that fallunto the pagessmeared with ink.it is like abillion years ofknowledge,jumbledin the air, waitingto be touched bysomeone, waitingto be drawn upon.the universal pool of knowledgebacking us up throughoutour history, only thosewho choose to turn theirheads to it at birth,will grow to be ignorantof life, of love andabove all, of the truth.
MultiColored greenmulticolored green-a light misty rainawakens my soul asi sit here, on thispiece of wood tryingto clean my mind.but my eyes keepwandering from theprotective canopyof multicolored greens,to the body of waterright in front of me,which moves ever so slowly,so that it looks stilland reveals its bed ofdead decaying leaves.it is so crystal clearand yet,there is this murky white substancehovering near the bottom,making me think of athick fog in the air...the sounds of foot stepsseem to break the peace, but noit is the leavesgreeting the earth,preparing for fall once again.one single leaf fallsinto the pondmaking the pool shiver asripples upon ripplesescape from it,but still the bed is safe.
Deity Of FireDeity Of Fire -a godess walkson toe tips,hovering over the stillwaters of a lake.her fiery red hair,a blaze catchingthe orange glowof the setting sun.Smokey eyes,empty and sullen,her expression isone of far offdreaming and suffering.And as she walkstriumphant, overthe icy pool,the waters shiverfrom her power, her will.and the windwhispers wordsof adoration to her....A deity dances,in the light of the moon,the rays lighting herpowder blue eyesand giving themilk white skina fantasy blueish tint.Arms raised high,she danceson stars, cometsand silver moon dust.She turnsround and round,summoning a stormto cleanse the earthof its sins unbound.The breeze comessoft at first,and glimpsing herin her dance,it does thirst.now joining herin a powerfull ballad.The deity danceswith the wind by her sideand in the backgroundthe pines move and abide,shaking with laughter.