Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19.6.17
life..(interlude..)

A welcomed conversation, how often do we get to sit this comfortable and witness the mind this open, do not forget about its illness it is a valuable asset to its existence, it is no disciplined definition, it is a diffident kind of love, we are still learning to exist with its interference’s, learning fearlessness from back bone, and fluid flowing into our stream, how often are we welcoming and welcomed of uncomfortable, do we accept its way of healing and slowly allow the word love to grace the mimic of our mouth, let the sun light in, you have been gone too long, been seen too often of room dimmed in candle lit long enough just to be called empty, you’re not empty, remember this heart, has been beating for every kind of love so many times there is no limit to selflessness, and the mind constantly having to be hero for the way this body beautifies, and how the body has learnt to hide behind broken so beautifully, we are only here to exist as we want, as we choose so careless to its boundaries, who needs constraints when you have found the absolute in living each day, when you’re hero each day-, thank you for reading this, I hope we can do this again sometime.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

8.6.17 | 9.6.17. Dreaming Fable (you’re..)

I mime fables that have been seen of this salem, silent in the dark, that sit with the night sky and watch the stars fill its vacancy, a distilled memoir, that glimmers awakened dreams, it has never been about forgetting how to love, but it has always wished on the stars enough to make it real, to never forget that this kind of magic is crafted into all our bodies and we are left to spell it back once it has finished manifesting into our souls long enough to breathe its wild back to love, a spell bound feeling, that is the mirrored shooting star reality of our distilled dreams

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

7.6.17
Hurting.

What do you do when you can physically feel your body ashing its bones from the inside, you know this feeling too often always uninvited and doesn’t leave until it has made sure you have tried dying at least once, when you have this illness, that likes to eat your body from the deepest parts of its pain and you don’t understand where it found the courage to find it without letting you know first, this illness, likes to keep secrets and never tell this body how to fix its accidents, leaves the body feeling like it is ready to die from its own failure of not being able to locate its demise, how do you sit with something that is trying to kill you slowly, when you’re suffering on your own you are almost forced to witness a death right before your eyes without love knowing you were even there, without family knowing how much it hurts because this kind of pain doesn’t just come with broken bones crunched to dust taken by the empty in this shell of a beautiful body, its so much harder to breathe when you’re not sure if the air you’re breathing is worth living, I was 10 when I first wanted to take my own breath, not long after attempting to see what it would look like to show my mother what it feels like to bleed her words, I imagined flooding this room with all my pain to maybe understand how this body was feeling, to feel better, to stop the pain, I just wanted it all to stop, I didn’t understand why it was coming for me in this kind of cold and loving way, I was 20 when I realized that the words I wrote down were a ransom from this illness, this body is being held hostage, and the heart is barley fighting to stay alive, how to rescue yourself internally when you can’t even save yourself in your living reality, what kind of jaded mood stays for this long, I was 21 when I asked for help, wanted someone to come help me because I didn’t know how to do it first, I was so confused about how this illness attacks this body the way the word enemy comes to the tip of my tongue telling this body words that aren’t true, weakening the heart to confuse abuse for love, you are no hero when this illness comes to surface and claws at every single part of this good body, this bleeding heart, the ache, of numbing the body in a whole is to forget you’re even existing, that you’re alive, this illness likes to drag my body to its absolute and watch it scramble to get back up, and all the heart can do is tighten at the bodies attempt, scared this illness will come for it next, the souls are no where to be found, I am left to save this body alone, just me, who can save this body but me, I am the only one vacant every breath you’re not here when the body has whispered how many times it has given up, and how the heart weeps a flood of pain, you can’t feel this feeling to this intensity don’t sit there and tell me you understand help me, tell me you can help me, that its all going to be okay, that it doesn’t have to be like this, tell me I will get better, that I don’t have to live with this illness bruising this body enough to call them part of this body, I don’t want these wounds, you hear people talk about selflove and how they have not found it, people like me, have not found self love they talk about it like its so close, like its almost in their hands, where, help me find it, I need to find it, Im so scared that one day my body will have enough the heart will be silenced and mute to its own pain and this illness will convince the body to go to sleep forever, a solution, maybe, how do you fix yourself from the inside with an illness bearing teeth at each attempt you can not win this way, help me

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

28.5.17 – 29.5.17
Note to self: love can lie

Note to self, doesn’t care, only hears voices that speak with dipped in poison split tongues, you were warned, by body, eyes, narration marathons in the form of false actions, disillusioned, told you to watch out for mishaps in the blank spaces that don’t match motion, too loud, what we’re you looking at, looking for, imagine the strength is has taken for body to watch the heart break at so many double edged knifes, the body spoke with shards of glass tip pointed to the heart wept and called the heart a coward for not letting go of what will hurt this body reminding the heart that it beats to unseen too often blurred lines and broken truths, weak, the body begged to not be taken for granted too harshly, that you’re both soft and honest and that is the perfect bate for sharks that swim this close to the shore, you’re to choose you, never forget that praying for the hearts guidance in both compassion and care the body is both heal and hero, don’t know no in between catharsis this is strength that has been learnt and undone from unlearning masks before it allows them to be seen of too soft, pretty first

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Give me time, I will carefully give concluded mental diagnosis of not only myself but try n give the ways in which this mind operates, I’ll show you how quickly you can, turn noose into faucet that is, designed in your own identity, break free of these connecting feelings n watch how quickly your mind has chosen to befriend its own shadow, the stigma behind this healing is that its always going to show you its teeth, it feels like there is no escape when your mind is in constant battle with reality, its never easy to ease its reality back to sane, its not okay that we push aside moods in order to get on with reality, sometimes these good deeds do not go unpunished, this healing resonates the feeling of demise quicker that it can manifest healing, on most days it feels like mute, like don’t tell anyone, like don’t speak, like, you’re not worthy, like, worthy had anything it owed you anyway, given this state, given this healing, these words don’t understand their caution, its unwittingly exhausting listening to this mind as your body sits in silence, don’t move.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Mood: “…prompt, probe at this like it was an infectious demise, unsure unsteady, hearts beats, his heart beat matched to your mood, his super power, not easily seen very, confused, mislead, calculated I want, their heart beat, can only give what is in my bodies gauge, I am not allowed to give more than this body has demanded, mood, love lies, sometimes, at ease, health fix, health, mental, mentality, heart beats, he doesn’t know how capable of you yet, willing to give your heart beat to show how much you care, his words are sweet perfection in this body, playful remedy to this mind, I want him.”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Lost and found, a lot of this mind’s confusion infectious dwell n this is not who I am, since when did you wake to believe what you have for yourself, understand that you can win, don’t like to get caught up in its noose, you can’t escape so easily anymore, we can’t go chasing people n expect them to fill this constant void, a missing identity, its been a while its been, months, reminded me about all the low turns that they, are better, survival is what life feels like n jagged edges accompany inevitably, wondering why I expect other’s who fill my love n, overflow this body with love that, they are all reason for this body, that without their existence self love is non existent, why do I greed their compassion to rescue me so much it, makes me question what self love means, n I’m I able to, attain its demeanor, precluded my own misconception of self loves bound only to rely solely on their body, their affection, to teach me, n not my own.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

17.04.17

Innocence: “..not weak, submissive shy, kind n gentle, all this, n much more, I miss the days where I could hear carefree whispered into the winter breeze, when spring bloomed with hope, sharing all our secrets to mother earth n, choosing to indulge ourselves in her beauty, I missed this, I missed being able to not give so much thought to dreams, enough to give it pardon free it’s possibilities n, not be scared of its what if’s wanted to be, the one who proves that dreams are worth never letting go that, when you feel defeated by it’s impossible alure this is, why its important to illustrate why you dream in the first place, being a dreamer n having a dream are two different innocences, dreamers are forever mesmerized by reason, for reaching the sky n, asking why the stars they see shine so bright, it’s finding answers when you have been told impossible, dream is, as simple as what you want it to be, I miss the days we talked about how fast we could glimce innocence in truth, rather bind to its opposite trait, not enough innocence, there’s, too much malice that fumbles without our own optimism, it blinding, catch this meditation, n…”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

16.04.17 | 17.04.17

Struggling with reality: “..being forced to come to terms with being grown has a lot of constraints to its noose, they aren’t always the black jacks that fill your conciouness with clarity, with truth, being forced to realise that even though you yourself as a being have to choose some demise in order to grow, in order to change, back home, you’re selflove, you can only realise what reality you have as you watch it disappear before you desperately reach out your hands fast enough to catch its pace n allow it, watch it shatter into micro shooting stars, the way commanding wish to a content struggling reality, is it a combination of your worst fears, emotions, rainbows to fill in this mood, this grow, how do you grow without struggling in reality, pain manefests n changes people more than we would like to admit, it resonates penetrating so deep into our stream of consciousness until it awakes, until we’re comfortable with change, until…”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

20.03.17
Dreaming (what’s new): Sipping water, sipping dreams (Dream Perfect Regime), drink more water (Mick Jenkins), in reference to water as the purest form of the absolute truth (FACT) (self: diagnosis..and you..?)

“..when you need something like you can not live without its hydration, fill up on its truth, drink up all its honesty, n filter out its quality, sipping water, sipping dreams, watch how they conjoin the truth in ourselves, those who fight something so honest in themselves will struggle to find the truth in this poem, drink more water..”