I will not be my own enemy,
you're making me feeling cheap.
Selling me cancers, heart burns & skin rashes
while I miss out once-a-lifetime rain.
There ain't no space for bargain
I know what I have & it's priceless ownership.
Too many of me & just one of you?
Please, is that what your mama told you?
You have no truth, no clue & everything to lose.
Strop bringing everyone to your level.
That level of hell is not worth the crackle.
Why don't you just let go & drop to the bottom
them maybe you will come out the other side
and I won't be waiting.
Again.
When I feel the rain,
and hear the birds sing,
I find the will to get up
and try, again.
Where to put it.
I drop things because I don’t know where to put them. My head has long since run out of space. Since I don’t care or dare to clean up the mess that’s already there. There’s not much really, but I don’t want to pick them up and examine them as if the mere act of paying attention to them will make me less. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But I’m not a wise person, and I’m stubborn. That’s what I’m holding on to. I’m someone who chases thrills and shies away from meaningful anything. I’m afraid that I was not worthy. I’m afraid that this life was not worthy of me. Is it silly? While growing up, learning to self-appreciate reminds me that there’s no intact mirrors to look upon. Were my parents proud of me? I don’t dare to evaluate. So I’m locked inside, and I lost the key. Years, decades go by. Maybe that’s just how growing up works. We can’t learn the lessons beforehand (unless you’re wise). I used to be jealous of the people who “don’t have” to learn life the “hard” way. All I was doing was resisting learning. So it was hard. I was stubborn and not wise. I can be a little still now, so that’s progress. I’m learning to be OK with who I am not.
Diamonds.
Listen to the day,
what it has to say.
Don't force progress.
Small adjustments.
Then rest.
Not my burden to bear.
Shut up & leave me alone,
I was not born for your bullshit.
Save your trauma & drama,
you've manipulated me emotionally,
enough is enough.
Keep on using me till
my heart is hard &
my mind is numb.
Guess you don't care,
the show must go on.
Well, shit, it's not my burden to bear
and I have a life to live
so goodbye & tough luck.
Fed.
We're driven to chase the wind
and leave ourselves behind.
To throw away our treasures
in favor of the fart.
There's wisdom in this.
The fart is organic &
it means we've been fed.
Hurt.
I'm out in the world looking for hurts,
for the surest way to fortify my heart.
To feel something I demonize others
who in reality don't give a fuck.
I'm not relieved that I'm left alone.
I need something from you.
What is it?
To tell the truth:
I want the version of love
I can't yet give
but must.
So long.
I'm so tired but it won't be long.
Maybe just until the end of this song.
All scores are settled
though the chords are wrong.
No matter.
There's something in the air.
Out of my head, at least.
Outta my head.
So long.
So long.
Sweet wind.
Sweet wind is my mother
carry me to my dreams
where I'm young & wise.
Whisper sweet nothingness
of protection & cosmic tenderness.
Temperamental yet true.
Something resonates through & through.
Touching all beings inside & out.
Sweet wind, let me drink you awhile.
One day.
Through out our history our mother has failed us.
How dare she shifts her attention elsewhere
and not fill her mind with only our welfare.
How could she refuse us her bounty &
put up her hands & say she had enough?
Isn't she supposed to be all-giving & obedient?
Has she been sharing our birthright to strangers?
Is she stupid? Why has she rebelled against her duty?
We want to strike out at her but we dare not.
Not yet.
For her bosom is all we have for home & safety.
And we are small still.
So we lay low & smile sweetly but the bile builds.
And one day, when we're strong, she should be
stripped bare & made sorry.
That shall be our secret. Shhhh. One day.
hotsurf_ 