Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19.3.19

You know I get it, we get so caught up into spaces and sometimes its so easy but so hard, like hopelessness is inside our norm I get it, sometimes its a life, there’s something to be said about time when you feel like these outcomes are not matching up to who you are, who you could be, I’ve been there before, where you feel like there is no space for you, you’re are not allowed to do what you want what you need in order to live up to your own truest self and, we get stuck on mindsets that really know how to break down whole bodies, sometimes breathing is not enough and I always secretly hated being told to breathe in and out for every broken part of my whole, it was never a start for me that way, I wanted to look for quick fixes and that was the first time I learned some of my triggers, they are always changing but I have also learnt to give them time, to reflect often into thoughts, I needed time, my own space, away from home, sometimes I ran away from home because it feels all too familiar, I am not one to ever give up this way too, I had made my choice the times I chose myself over everything that yelled at my body, I am untold fire, I am the secret story, I am the story that is still choosing to be written I am my choices of everything I have created of me, so anytime anything comes at my home and wants to break in I am ready with all my pain and love for always choosing to survive the ways in this life too, you can not break down a door that is safety in numbers, there is no one who can tell me otherwise I won’t even dare you, that would be me putting a knife at your soft spots carefully hidden asking you to have a conversation with the secrets you’ve been running in cryptic circles from your own home first, I know, and this is just the beginning.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

It’s a nice idea, but it doesn’t exist: reply| 19.3.19

I want you to think about this for a moment, think about it the same way you hold yourself, after you having given yourself permission, the same way you crave your own attention, I want to you to think about how you let something so untrue into our being when there are words like humility, trust, like honesty like dreams, words that had no meaning until you assigned it its divine correlation, how often you smack your mouth in the name of words like healing, words that had no specifics until they aligned with your intentions until you found its meaning, how careless are we enough to believe things if not for who we are, for ourselves first, can we not seek this much, I hear this statement so often and I wonder about the love they have in them first, the dreams they have given life, I remember moments like the milestones we take deep breaths after, how close we are to achieving something we have manifested for so long, how good this feeling is, that it is both real and out of this world, when we mention words like love and someone else why is it so hard to see, I mean like we tell ourselves it doesn’t exist when we are seeing it come to life in so many people, we must understand outcomes like timing and love, see its attention to detail and notice its perks, who says these words know the bitter taste it leaves in its mouth, between clenched teeth, has been here before, is both unrequited and swear to leave this feeling alone, to never know about its meaning, when we question words like love in all forms we are confirming notion of its opposites, we are denying facts based on heartbeats, on a changing person, we are allowed to change, we are allowed to heal and move, love is not conforming it does not have strict synonyms it will eat the alphabet alive then rearrange its meaning just for you, be careful with perception, the mind is both the truth and a liar, your heart is both armor and silly, trust in your intuition, be honest with your body, you’re coming out of a closed state this way too, lean in to learn yourself to choose love over its definition too, can you hear me okay back there too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Drafted love letter (receiver: self) | 13.3.19

A loose cannon mind, vulnerable to life this is how she lives, fearless and freedom in her spirit birth-right, she has exhausted everything that has buried her and shown her what chances at life could be like, there is no room to be scared of things that she can or can not control, she gives it justice, she is not scared of anything or anyone but herself, this here has been a careful failed attempt at so many times there is not enough that could amount to all the wrong that has gotten her here, effort is a representation of her soul, don’t get carried away by what you see in her, she is both conflict and solution in human form, she has these still scars that she says make her who she is and everytime they ache she is reminded of who she has been, her story is a forever written, she has undying bound to herself first, there are many ways in forms of her anarchist mind, her heart is titanium seasoned in spring, let love in and allow love to leave this is also how she has learnt herself a fearless freedom fighter, she is not censored to candy or chocolate she more like a futuristic drug, she has this will about no regrets so everything that leaves and enters her mouth is honest and forgiving, there is malaise in this type of living too, there is simply no time to allow for these types of external growths to clean her slate of imperfect favorites, she is a carried generation of women that have healed her soul, how often is it you get to see a being this untouchable, vulnerability is nothing to be scared about when you’re in love with affirmations of growth, of self, in love, into change, from heartbeats, and fall for heartstrings, we’re are all a heartache away when we await these better selves, this a breath and a slice of cheesecake with a cup of water, its looking in the mirror and unlearning bad habits from old habits, its recognizing yourself at all times, is to stand firm when you add sweetener to your coffee and feel eyes, remember the word choice it will give you full comfort to know this is a type of you that is an absolute finesse to conquering who she is first, talk your shit, you have waited your own long ago, treat yourself to your dream.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Honey honey, honyed.| 13.3.19

Come in, honeyed lips dripping from a sweet scent this is what it has come to, in response to your words no I don’t know how to do that, I have been here once before and it lost my words on purpose and this time I am him, mirrored words that a line on palms our hands held together that night I never would have thought this is what I would come to, I am a dying mess of you, this is all your sweet fault, even when you say you fear it I am still here what I’m I doing here, I spilt my own thoughts now I’m left with its certainty, god I’ve been here before where I didn’t want to give it a name but the feeling was so lucky I felt my heart ache, is this heartbreak, say I’ve been here into this feeling falling from the sky this way, I want to tell you please don’t let go, beg with my hands behind my back for you to come back to me, patience is something I am learning for you too, you’re taking space into me and I don’t know how to stop it where is this all coming from, after all that phone call clinged onto me like assurance of my feeling and your honesty, learn me what you said when we were first meeting, I want it all, you tell me you’ve changed not knowing this is who I wanted to know this whole year, lately we’re so afraid of our feelings more than we are of the meaning, the body can not handle all that love, what is that feeling again the one where you don’t understand why, how hearing their voice is enough, how they are enough, when did words become so easy for you, they over share out of your comfort you’re a breakdown for love, two too many, I’m I only lost words, a memory of a feeling, have the souls reversed, sometimes I can’t tell, will you call me again so I can hear your voice just to be sure, I’m scared too, I want to hold both of us, I will never leave you, trust my heart, when have I ever not peeled back my skin for you, this is no wonder, come to me, I will love us both when you find the words to tell me, I am learning patience, I don’t know how to call it this way, I will protect my heart and listen to my body this way too, I have mantras from galaxies back from Jupiter healing me this way too, you’re a long found planet, and I am a curious focus, which is also another way of exclaiming a long list of optimistic metaphors that are still unfinished but shuffled, you want to understand my mind I will share with you all its love come closer I only have you in my mind anyway, I am learning patience, wish my planet luck.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

2.3.19 |cherry

You know too often we get caught glancing, chances thrown at us and we can’t help but ignore them, and I’ve been thinking, should we always risk these kinds of forces, I mean like how often is it we get to make a choice that could give and take so easily, you know what I’m talking about, the ones that are not always as clear or empathetic when it comes to these people, you’ll meet a part of yourself that is telling you to listen to your body knowing very well your mind feels and your heart thinks as if this couldn’t have been anymore simpler, late last night I was looking at planets from bed, closed my eyes for a moment your name in here is this another way to uncomplicate and this just got even more painful, carrying uncertainty is almost like dragging a body, is also like telling yourself you’re worth care and love without the self, still honoring its tradition giving hope with no strings attached this the last effort for your mind to breathe at ease, ready to call home, selfish reasons for you, sometimes, they have to learn what its like to live without a loving mind and careful heart, the ones that claim it are appropriate to this type 4, call home and ask them to hold the door open for your return this is the final downpour, ask the sky to rain down on you, beg it to scare, so you learn to never go back, to drown far from this feeling for something new, treat yourself to take your own breath away you already know what to do, don’t let me repeat it mindless times, go, now.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Moving on, and letting go (interlude ver) | 6.3.19

Adjective proposition, in narrative motion, both a bold statement and a wish or three away, this is a sitcom of stolen words to help with heart on love, I don’t think there’s a word for what that is, actually there is a word for that, its love, when you care about someone beyond all rationality and wanting them to have everything they want no matter how much it destroys you its love, and when you just love someone you just, you don’t stop ever, even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy even then especially then, you don’t give up, because if I could just give up, if I could just you know take the whole words advice and move on and find someone else that wouldn’t be love that would be, that would be some other disposable thing that is not worth fighting for, this open dialogue I tell myself then remind them who I am of all the affirmations is this true love, also, in this begins a strong heart is needed, a mindful presence of identity customized self worth bring out the two souls roam your body and feel its presence, the thoughts and emotions you’re are looking for are all surrounding your emperor nobility take it, it is all yours, this whole life time, fall in love with intangibles and show off its love, boast about how close you’re to a feeling that is learnt through a soul, you know exactly what I’m talking about, your body has a wellbeing of untouchable enticement, you say you love, let go, you’re a dependable flame to this fire oxygen first, people say they are going to change and it never happens and people go back to old ways and old habits, move on, its not that simple.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Gratitude of love (healing us ver) | 6.3.19

How careful, we steal hearts and glances the way we breathe, we use words to never use them in front of each other and sometimes ourselves how often do we wish to stay this soft a greedy us, are so misguided even to our own who gives us permission first, do we only ever seek words that gratify us from all the misfortune we confine our selves in, could we cry us all the oceans in our blue planet the irony is both intended and a learning effort, how determined are we to fail at love until we understand how close we are to its warmth so we say always, want this kind of love first from the beginning before we give it control, when we are a disciplined flame the smoke carries our sky and we get whispered away by worn down hearts trying to heal themselves too, what are the selfish rules we must come to closure within a body that has both bruises and love, they say what they want, there is no wrong way to love someone, that letting go clears the air, the date spent with a returning body, do we devour in perfection our existence close, in order to let go, how much does it really have to hurt until its all over, how do you let go and move on when oceans are irony of a false affirmations, is this human enough for me, how long does it have to heal, is this way of confrontation in narrative too, from healing people too, healing people with unsure love can they only still heal too, I swore I would not repeat him again so why does it still hurt so much, the catch is either you or not them don’t fool yourself any longer, leave this karmic air alone, set us both free, this is how we belong together too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Welcome mat (interlude ver)| 4.3.19

Uh I see, so as soon as it stops raining you’ll leave, I hope the rain never stops so I can stay here forever, an interlude of dreamy feelings, I can’t stop thinking about how the words we belong together sounded so out of this world, we had a world together, me laughing through the phone my biggest tease you were worse than me, there were moments where I felt like I could trust this feeling when you got busy I started to feel less of you, you visited my heart but never stayed long enough, every time I saw you I would count the days out weighed by your absence and meet me today’s no call that night it was over and I swore at myself cursing at my heart my mind a bystander of my emotions how could I have hurt myself so much, because of you we have touched clouds and named every passing thought that came in comfort of my soul when you call I will not pick up, you’re an interlude of exit mat bellow my door read the syllables in code I don’t care what you do with them, leave my home alone, don’t call me a second time it is done, I thought of all the love we shared and all the fights we had please try to understand. _turn me into the moon (good luck)

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

3.3.19 | For sad girls and lonely boys, the uncut version

For sad girls and lonely boys, a dedication to hearts that are left uncharted, sweetly melting away at rituals of beauty marks that divine themselves, a meditative state of how our minds ethics work the honeyed ways our hearts chime are we the lost and found within ourselves first, follow paths that bring out the worst of ourselves only to heal ourselves, for those who listen to their heartbeats on reply, those who pay attention to the mind and wonder into its spaces only to find themselves, who easily get lost in silence and smile about all the awkward sensible times they have stumbled into self-love and smiled at its wonders, that have confessed so many times only because they follow hearts that also remind them of sad girls and lonely boys if not most of all the time, the ones who write letters to themselves and throw away all the evidence in trust of the spring breeze, who sit in cars on rainy days falling at ease and sometimes asleep in its comfort, who chase the sun in warm transition days only to wait for the rain to also join in, drink homemade ice tea without the straw, leave the light on at night and watch the dark silver sky, swear they know bliss, know who they love first, the uncanny of winter is not the cold weather but the way it also cradles, a broken love song, has a reason for it all, will tell you love and life is the same but not really, doesn’t understand rules, will say things that have been felt not knowing where to begin first, will let you feel your mind then allow you to speak your heart and ask you the opposites of what has been said, understand we are all mindfully different and still try to help you understand her heart, and mind, are the only addiction that is ever in the centre of her whole existence, will say to you do you see the beauty in everyone too, believes empathy is more than its definition, has an attention spam of a gold fish or two on most days, on good days I am enough, I will always return to this moment right here, this is where I would want to exist ready for all the oceans I am not ready to admit my name.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

blue headphones in talks of identity (more)| 2.3.19 – 3.3.19

Where are our limits, when we are dissatisfied from the oceans our emotions come in wave thrust along side our thoughts, must they always decide on one, I say I don’t feel equipped enough to answer the future, where do we want to go when we ask these questions that are as mischievous as our twins even the most intelligent parts of our body do not have the answer, what parts of ourselves do we have to set on fire first in order to attempt these cinematic occurrences we have been put up upon, I tell my body we must come to an understanding this is almost childs play, forgetting our souls have roamed us before we even noticed they were here, watching fire burn we’re using words in attempt to signal and spark this conversation a cycle we’ve been plotting enough to brake narrative like, how do you see something if it is simply not there, my mind tells me countless times if you see something that is not there it is also teaching yourself to see more than what is simply visible, my heart teases me about its compassion when the twins are around, using words that are familiar to our palate we’re only ever lost for words by unconscious consciousness, we are still art critics learning and unlearning a cycle of generations, brave enough to fail as many times as our body can resurrect, lessons have no identity blue print, we are all teachers in progression, there is no perfectly put layers to one of the hushest nouns defined, it never really ends it only ever really begins, and this, this is how one of the unsociable inspired ways of more.