random from a while ago

"Some mon just deal wit information. An some mon, him deal wit the concept of truth. An den some mon deal wit magic. Information flow around ya, an truth flow right at ya. But magic, it flow t'rough ya" - bob marley


There is a space to be safe
a space to be vulnerable
and a space to cause pain
there are many other spaces
but there is also one space where you can enter all the other spaces

There are lyrics to be written,
stories to be written,
and there are your words and your actions
scratches on your skin and wax in your ear

many things exist to watch out for
a full moment - one of complete focus or one of complete surrender
a seeker - when stopping and resting is always temporary

some friends ask, some tell, some laugh, some listen, some look, some flirt, some want, some wonder, some yell, some whine, some push, some pull...some won't, some will

i admire bold people
-------------------
and now it's two months later, i've just read this over, i have nothing to add because it will take away from whatever it was. i can't access it. is what it is.
now i go have my morning tea

something about a swirling moment

There's a bastard in my whatever and a human in my skull. Sometimes i'm poisoning a mixed drink and sometimes i'm gulping water. In various minutes luck twists the knot and i wiggle into a when who wants a why. luck is like a dice tango with whispers and big drums.
can't stand on the hill when the hill is your nose
however rough we may be i see humans with pillows on their palms, boxing their brothers and sisters,
laughing wildly in windy cul-de-sacs and trying to hang on the moon.

in my childhood, once, i felt a sadness with existence and it became a seasonal allergy.
i try to sniff daffodils and get tripped up on daisy chains
keeping kleenex in my pockets
till one day i find a happiness that makes the sadness good
then i'm
(again) a moon, biting into my curiosity with cheshire cat razors
chewing up the tick of a clock
drooling into morning

seriously corny like popcorn and butter.

Leaves and stems and roots and the dirt.

You begin to peer at life through a different scope when you pay heed to roots and dirt. When fall comes and leaves scatter from trees and crunch on sidewalks; i start to think of memories and the strenuous briefness which spins my life prismatic. I get nostalgia like a cat purrs and i always know the taste of existence was on my tongue before birth and before i ate an artichoke. My soul carries a past like a dream when the words don't come. This is a piece of my love.

More love.

For the things and people around me.

The movements in love: akin to a symphony, which carries you through tears into laughter, from a tear into a fullness, from a wash of wonder to a furious, tempest-like stillness, into a thrashing, a drowning and a gasp of breath at the top with the whole world to look at.
Love - the Yes. over and over.

Wickedness and trickery have shot at me and found my flesh. I've taken wounds to be signs of glory and sought greater things in pain than in love. I ran for pain before love, i ran for pain without love.
I attack myself out of fear. I doubt myself out of fear. I throw stones at others and give myself good reasons. I feed myself with all sorts of smoke and crap and i forget about fathomless love.

Unbounded.

I go on about politics and power. But enough. Now I turn an ear and perk up like a jackrabbit, making myself vulnerable and wearing an armor of confidence and humility. I listen now. No games of petty deceit, no time to try on new masks, no time to practice. The territory must be traversed in naked love. I want to go help people. I have love to give, ferociously dwelling in my guts.

It isn't only the celestial explosion and the bursting sunshine; it's also the cryptic caverns and the ink filled abyss. It's everything and everywhere, spreading in all directions, spilling over the edges and soaking up anything. It swallows power, it makes it stronger. Love is like water. Give water to the people. Drink water. Bath in it. Don't waste it. Take it with you everywhere.

I forgot about love. A human is powerful enough to stop love from growing, transforming, from being and becoming. A plant can wither and die. Worms can chew it up. Death waits at my fingertips and this isn't the never-ending story.

Right now it is early morning, 3am and i will sleep soon.
But i'm swimming in this pool of love and i know something.
About this world and the demons and savages, the mountain springs and fresh winds, the systems and the No's, the corporations and greed, the gluttons, the truths that can be spoken, have been spoken, will be spoken, the people that can be forgiven, the wonder that can be coveted, that quickness that can build a fortress, the slowness that can fill an emptiness, and the silences that have something to say...