Some People Really Do What They Love

“Life comes down to this — you can do anything, there are no limits to what you can achieve, but you do have to decide what you want to do, and then get to doing it.” – One of the secrets of life

Why are we always waiting? It is the man, the woman; who does not wait – patient – but refuses to wait, who becomes successor to the gods

I sat for a long time with this. I let the music play until I did not recognize where I had been or where I was. I am sure where I started was seeking to find that fable of all fables, but that forever eternal is a frozen moment, not much longer than the instant it takes for a molecule of water to slow down to a freeze and move back into a flow with the temperature fluctuating the way it does. It’s a complex measure, in truth, we have no measure yet to define and capture all that is encompassed; apart from perhaps that indelible mark, the arrow that always strikes true on the person who is fully human. Love; Stronger than man-rejoicing wine? More inextricably linked as they share a similar visceral – guts on the table – joy, and dichotomy of honesty & deceit ever tearing. Yes, I sat for a long time and I would offer up the notion that love can stand to measure every nuance from end to end.

Some people really do what they love,
and others are driven beyond love
because it’s not enough. To them and I both,
I offer my felicitations – a belly full of wine
when and if the time ever comes.

What are you waiting for?

 

Do This Because You Must

“Not being able to create art, they will not understand art.”

I have become very fond of our scuttling, our tossing and turns
Where are we going but in the arms of another once more,
into the rays of the brightest days ahead, and the soothing darks

Shadows passing by, to a classical promenade – we’re filled
with the ecstasy of a new favorite taste,
touch upon these tongues the juice of gods
the dripping filth of a fruit truly enjoyed, flesh devoured.

You dove in and let the primal loose, and used your skin like a paint brush,
Dragging across the sky until every star shone precisely how you desired,
and you desired a lot – You desired that every breath be held properly as you moved,
and passed with a right amount of resistance, a reminder that something in you is raging
to leave its mark! Clawing with every neural snap, every electrical pulse, POW – it will
leave the walls of your room dripping if that’s where you want the master work, it calls;
a summoning howl to the torrents within, dangerous, but magic always wins.

Sacral, Oblation, and Hallow

I hold the sacrificial dirk, a dirge dripping in blood,
it’s clear I keep making choices.

You ever make a mistake while actively knowing it,
and say, “ah fuck it.” ?

Life you showed me,
doing nothing because of sense
But because it struck the senses;
Because it felt good.

You did things this way because you lived out a different chord with different rules and expectations; things that applied to you and only you. To say I understood could only be a man trying with every sinew to convince the other in an argument, with passion that he struggled, and knew what it meant to live from your center.

How presumptuous. How pompous.

I wanted it though, o I wanted to comprehend, I deserved to for all I’d worked towards — to be at one with that mind and give it my nod of approval. But fuck approval. Every entity that seeks it dips into the darkness afraid of its own shadow. And that thing which I wanted, would no longer be desired if it sought to illuminate the dark out of fear for what might be beneath its cover. Go into the dark curious; feel on your hands and knees – claw for discovery, and be beset by hunger no more.

Everything is a sacrifice — What will you wither, what will you grow?

I Want To Taste It Again

I fill these lungs with just enough of you so that I’ll never quite say I had you, I watched the minutes go by, without even noticing them. The days they talked, barely did we touch, barely did we know each other’s love. The potential is far too much! For you to truly know anyone. Save that one you can.

This is the beauty of us. We show one another things we never knew existed within, lighting paths to new spaces, creating realms of wondrous joy – and then we fall. At first it might feel like you are empty. For what will you now do with all the unoccupied spaces? It is wrong to think you must remain with such a feeling – Empty. You at this point must find the perspective to see possibility beyond this supposed container. You must now grow to fill your expanded self! You must grow to meet your new heights

You’ve got to remember that the world isn’t going to wait up for you. It isn’t going to sit patiently while you get comfortable – while you get the order straight. Fuck order, and forget all that shit they tried to instill in you because what you end up finding is you spend your entire life trying to piece together some image that never does look exactly right to you. It’s magic don’t get me wrong, but you’re barely grasping what’s really at your fingertips. Until you do, all you have is a couple unconnected dots that may get you high or bring you down. And have you ever gotten high or down without a sense of direction? Talk about exhausting – only the crazy ones survive that.

Why Am I Gone?

People will lie in this life to make it easier for themselves

You can’t blame them because they lie to themselves too.

But the bare blunt truth? You don’t do it for me. That’s it.

There is no lie, nothing hidden in it. You just don’t work.

It is an insurmountable ledge, you must wrestle up onto.

Go ahead and get struggling. Most everyone will suffer it.

Swallow. Again.

It’s okay. Just accept that yours is a different happiness;

Different than what you are seeking. You know the truth.

We’re All gods of Love Here

Love, me lights out,
Burn the sky down
Love, me lights out,
Burn the sky down

Lure me back with waves
Pull me deep beneath the shades;
I think I’m below
Your neck is the road

Lull me you’re the eye,
Rati your sweet lips;
Oshun I beg for a drink!

Tales of the banquet–I’m drunk all over again
I’m there all one again,
The first moon, the last full notebook

I’ve been reading your words,
And after all the pages,
Only the last virgin remains.

Imagine the last time I’ll be surprised at what you say
I don’t want to listen, what if I’m swayed,
at the end, with no more words to decide against.

Xochiquetzal, Clíodhna,
Take me on a way,
Lay me down at sea!
What vastness will I be

I’ chose you and you’re gone, and that’s ironic and cliche for a song


To be expanded