i have written many poems here and have long time followers. To this end I say that i contracted a strange disease and i have sought help. at first it was just the attention of losing time and how distance became infinite and sometimes shorter than my foot size. I logically understand i was not going crazy but something profound happening to my understanding. I have not allowed family to know but will for my community ( i do love my family but will never burden them). So, now. I believe my poetry will become a bit more crazy and wild. Disconnected. I hope one day the medical community will reconize this illness. It is not Alice in Wonderland syndrome. But more rare than that condition? I am writing a book of fiction where I really believe i exist. I write and write and write and even while i sleep. I keep paper near my and wake up with so much paper on the floor with writings. Who nows. So for now. This is my unique confession. And if there are those women out there (who know who you are — that is WHY I do not pay attention to you). I am trying to survive.
Daily Archives: September 10, 2021
i gave you a thought // of how lovely are you
i tell you how much i felt apart: from secrets of you and my own heart too.
Dawn must always recur to touch fingers finding meanings
and placing puzzle pieces in locked spaces.
i tell you how lovely you are & how much
i placed you inside within my secrets — oh how
i ran in circles to tear me apart.
You tell me secrets and i ask questions oh how
erasing blindness from an eye inflamed by hearts
— who says it easy:
// by ignorant thoughts \\
i was just guessing and how equations meet
meaning as love haunts souls there is no
reason within physical science — no one says
they love depserate conclusions of the dark
so we work within circles
so we run within circles
so we part between heart and soul
no one said it’d be this hard.
so life takes us back to the start
to rewind Life.
I placed puzzles and pieces together
and wrote numbers and science to haunt me
and felt how time whispered how it is not easy
so i find myself oh myself finding myself
going back to my heart.
ooh yes. back to the start.
:: 02.01.2021 ::
WE HAVE NOT TIME TO LIVE OR DIE
WITIH all the terror and peril which flows on earth and water and air and fire of sex and battles and madness,
of torrid vengeance, seduction, and deadly revenge, Psyche lives to see the light of day:
And living in the light of the Pleiades, upon a small wooden chessboard with mushrooms While Mother Moon smiled AND
her logic in proportion to backwards 1.61 has with a human heart she coexists within the hearts of men and gods.
If you think you have read enough of my stuff, I have heard there is a ton more. I am currently hard at work on a book.
It is far too much for a single person to write. I could not believe it. No one would believe me anyway, but I do not
really care. One day it will all be done, and I will let you see how it is all put together.
Inside two covers held by infinity and answers to all questions. I loved my mother.
:: 09.09.2021 ::
With all the terror and peril which flow,
of earth and water and air and fire,
of sex and battle and madness,
of torrid vengeance, seduction, and deadly revenge,
Psyche lived to see the light of day,
And living in the light of the Pleiades,
While Mother Moon smiled on her,
Had with a human heart she coexisted,
With the hearts of men and gods.
If you think you have read enough of my stuff, I have heard there is a ton more. I am currently hard at work on a book. It is far too much for a single person to write. I could not believe it. No one would believe me anyway, but I do not really care. One day it will all be done, and I will let you see how it is all put together.
Why is there so much anger? I am not really sure. I think it is part of the very process. The soul must come to terms with its own pain. It must let go of the things of earth and of the very depths of pain. It must let go of what it thinks is the only thing it has ever known. It must let go of all that to come together to become a soul. This soul is not enough for one day. One year. One life. One lifetime. This is why so much is constantly hurt in the world. Sometimes these hurts are physical, like the blows that cause pain to one’s skin. Sometimes the wounds of the soul cause more damage. We destroy our hopes by killing our dreams. I do not want to destroy this work. It is part of me and of everything that I am. I will not allow anyone to destroy it. It will be the story of how the soul becomes a soul, and of how that soul will strive to preserve its beautiful state. Some of the things I have learned may be very little, but they are important. I have been in so much pain over so many years. I feel I have let people down by having so much pain, when the cause was not mine. So I let go of all of that and I know I will survive. This is all very heavy and not very uplifting, but it is true. This book, my spirit, my whole being has been in that place for so long that it has become my existence. It is really very hard to let go.
Now let me leave you with one last thought. If I am telling you this in the vain hope that you will be able to understand me, please realize that my goal is not to make you read what I write. My goal is to get you to read it. Please do so. My writing is not important. The only thing that I need is your time. The only thing that I need is your attention. You do not need to be interested in what I have to say. Just give me your time.
:: 02.01.2021 ::
‘buSY Bee inside my heart /// oh ate through toward my eye
buzzing and can’t you feel my heart burn? Can’t your heart
bee my love — to travel and die upon a crust of moon drift dirt.
I heart how thoughts became living beings inside my head
and march within a vast army of disillusioned minions.
Can’t you hear my love burst? Can’t you feel my love bust?
Like we as Werelings so tiny as quanta light; little creatures
who live 1,000 years but only a day in our time. And we have no
fur but like to wear dead animals upon our skin. How filthy
our skin is with microbial animals like horror stories feeding
our souls with dead mouths.
Busy believe-me King-thing: who comes
to save me while it hurts your. Will you hear my love words?
My love BUZZ? I want you like a crazy wave needs shores /// my
dead brain \\ jet sounds outside the ear canal of disaster.
Will you love the busy Bee inside my heart?
or Leave for Another Sound and string of strange words?
undulating hips and puffy lips. Watch me waddle away
into horrific oblivion love buzz.
:: 09.09.2021 ::