Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

14.3.23 | Love meets Loving.

I haven’t written about her since our last conversation with blood since we walked away from our light to face our shadow since we blindfolded our mind(s) to the world and shut inwards. We haven’t felt this world since we were reunited with our second, our heart has missed our care and sensitivity to self, our mind has been busy learning to unlearn itself and together we are teaching her about free will, she has waited o long to be here. –I don’t think we have met. My name is divergent. It’s nice to finally be seen.– Realizing your mind has never looked this loving, it has never looked this respected we have found our respect for self and are passing it down to the generation of our trauma in this world and the second, we are actualising a life we have known in the second home and finally living in its light, we are not ashamed of our intelligence we are not suffocating our spirit and we are intentionally unconditionally-zing our life of choice, we have worked on our body in this home long and honest, we have trusted her path for us and she has held our hand through every hurt, we are no longer giving chances to those who do not present with empathy, love, respect, boundaries, gratitude, and many more extensions of a successful life. We are living a successful life. We have lived past each day, and our mind has suffered silent battles, and we have held her hand through every breakdown. We are her first love. We have fallen in -love with ourselves again.–

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Balanced Strength? | 22.6.20

I hope we find this well, I don’t usual say this enough but we have been seeking so we come forth the only way we knew how head on, so compelling about our nature to who we think we must, something about being invisible in a star that burns as much as it should how nice, this is a beautiful way to think about your own existence too, can you feel it how your body has began to imagine, radiate so much of what you feel like you think to only be the one who fights off its monsters here on this earth, you tell its story of how this finds their way into your path, you deserves your dream that much more, don’t draw a fool and not think of it as a tool, there is magic round here nowadays we do not always have to see with what we are told to see, blessed to be free minded this will be your greatest relief, a strength like no other magically blessed, we have traveled from lucks planet my belief in myself and the dreams I dare to touch are so much courage I keep growing out of this skin each day a super power becomes in twined with my eternal love in human form, shhh, if you say dream I say bigger, if you say self I say highest, I will sky us to the moon so we can see us from a different view just to show you this is what you should also be looking at too, we can’t blame us if we see this without passion intention of commitment your minds feeling will adjust accordingly, yet, we can’t also blame us if we see this without intensity intention of balance your hearts thoughts will learn to adjust accordingly, if we utilize senses we gain a keen sense of knowing you could sky us to the moon, to places we did not see in turn, when you focus attention ON it becomes whatever it is, teach your mind in turns that it teaches you about a way it only knows how to teach your heart to teach the mind its way it only knows how to teach you, we are ours and ours blind if we can not afford to use our given, when we become protective over us we are speaking in a language that knows us for our fears and our brilliance, I say this because we have always been two 1’s of everything, I motivate this belief by saying them out loud to see how my body identifies this balance too. -We have learnt it all head strong.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Black Lives Matter 2020 (BLM) | 11.6.20

I am high steady fast on protecting my future children, black is family past present and future we do not split, we are the traveled ancestral family blood, we are here to stand in solidarity of black bloodies, there has not been an act of peace or justice we have been chanting since we first saw the white man spill our blood, we have been reclaiming each and every time we are forced out of our pockets, out of homes, spaces and made to feel inadequate from our very existence, we are forced to take back our human, we are being told in constant aggression, some think we do not see them masked with white lies we are not allowed to be a content life, I will never see black skin the way you see it, whiteness has cheated our people of our greatness think we too far gone to see how much home when they see nothing, talk about it on stolen genocide for gated land, don’t stand there and tell me you don’t see colour as you talk in micro aggression, white fragility is old, we have been making something of white noise you are not listening, we are not asking anymore we are taking it back, Tamika talked about it right, Amanda told us, she called on our power, they know what they are doing here, they’ve known how they strip black of human long ago, we are knowing of our history some of us are tired of having to use our voice it aches, we have had to learn to bare it, to use it standing strong, this has been our fight since the dare you declared war on our people with your white laws, protecting nothing and swearing into the faces of black bodies, your laws are too white to see us, too much black ink to paper not enough black bodies to reach importance of justice, just enough to break whole families right, this is what you and your people have done through out stolen lands right, you will remember this day too, when our black is subjected to violence at the hands of that will not protect them do not be surprised when black people come at you with the same fight in their being to protect themselves from the same laws that do not protect black bodies, it is facts that to this day there are 437 indigenous black deaths in custody, it is not okay for white people to feel so comfortable to disarm black lives in context that would go as far as to say the Black Lives Matter protests are a uniquely American movement, no, have you not been listening, black bodies have suffered and asked enough, injustice anywhere is injustice everywhere, you go as far to say attempts to retrofit it to suit local conditions ignore the quantum improvements the Australian justice system has made in its treatment of indigenous Australians, no, you’re not listening, enough is enough, look at the facts, indigenous bodies are dying at the hand of justice what is wrong with your heart, we should not have to use metaphor to explain such a pandemic, people are dying without any justice and not one or the people compliant and present at these scenes are being help accountable which is to say that this type of murder is acceptable on our stolen lands, I should not have to tell you this, our own country leader thinks it is not that bad in Australia, no, you’re not listening, black bodies are being targeted in micro to fetal scenes I am pissed, it wasn’t so long ago that we were protesting for the young black men to move freely here, the same young black men who should feel safe walking with their friend groups instead of being subjected to primary walking targets here, I’ll say it again, black bodies continue to suffer at the hands of the same justice system that is meant to protect, these are the same white voices that instigate our black family and think to know they will go unaccounted for and in white Australia they do, it is imperative to voice and stand up for injustice that perpetrates violence when they are swarm to protect, that no where to hide from all these black screens will you have no choice but to confess we are doing the justice without the badge, when they speak in segregation and we speak in mass pull up we are the sovereignty, it lays with us, listen, you can not take and be silent with your whiteness you have to do the work, when you practice a life it becomes you, how much power are you willing to give, how much of your privilege are willing to use, the world is watching now, listen, white people and people of colour who are not black and want to be respectable allies being silent is not enough now, if you are in ally act like it, call the racist people in your communities and homes out, talk to them, we are done talking to you about it now it is your turn, talk to your community, black people are tired of how we are left to rebuild catch your tongue tell it to re home its words, ask why it makes sense to you that my black body is still up for debate as to whether it is allowed to breathe, if you will not show us respect we will come down on you like MLK, the easy way is to do the work and hold white and persons of colour racists accountable for their harm on black bodies, we are done with the way the white system continues to perpetrate and gaslight us into a war we did not ask for, you wanted this, we have out grown incompetence lack of impatience for human decency can do that it can turn black into panther, it can make you look at mirrors before you crash into them, black bodies have always been at a fighting chance, the time for asking has out grown our generation we are tired of its voice to our bodies and not the other way around, we cannot fight from within comfort now we are forced to fight out loud, we will not stop until you continue to show us that are willingly going to do the right thing.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Everything, your fears and your happieness in a few worlds. | 8.06.20

How human are we or how human do we have the need to become before it is too late to come across our side lines and look at all our wreckage, must we burn each time we are handed our life line, how to survive the survival who else to be a better teacher than those who you hold great love within yourself, so tell me though what about you, how well do you trust that you have this under control, can you break enough to listen how close to death must we fall, nothing comes close to be the parents our life knows us so capable, are you holding your garden accountable to your hidden forms, how often do you choose to lie to yourself to prove loyalty, say you hold worlds, your words not only in formation of your gossips but you care enough to fight for what you believe, what if what we believed was wrong, what if I told you that what we feel is intelligence at its rightful highest form when worked on, life times ago we held our emotions in our palms, we protected with our words and knew about how much power it hold, this is not wishful, capability lies in the hands of its beholders throats, you’re saying what you’re wishing there for what you’re wishing is what you’re working towards if you do not have the earnestness to fulfil dreams who are we really, more, can we be more if we do not hold us accountable for actions that have learnt to play out right before our very own eyes for us to clear the path we have fumbled into time and time again, a hell that grins down on those to say look at your guilt, face it running away will make the fires hotter, who are you to not question your own fated conscious, you will not loose yourself I promise you this, there are many happens waiting for you over on the other side, how brave have you gotten since you last spoke to your whole body-, Come here dear love, lets sit together, I want you to unburden yourself, I choose to be your waterfall oasis in this moment and moments to come if you promise to be your own first world.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Her Garden. (Spring is upon us) | 19.5.20

Stop me, I am about to make myself make the biggest best mistake of my life, if I do not take this chance, I am seeing evidence every where its exciting yet it questions my every motive, I am unsure about its presence not only here but here to come, 3 years going to 4 is a long time to have wanted, I’ve learnt a lot since then, changed right before I could even make sense of existence itself, found newness in everything I envisioned, I’ve made my share of mistakes without you too, I’m starting to think in ideas, in details of wholes, worlds, the mechanics of questioning the details the time it takes is its unmeasurable, it never stops-, I am having the best time of my life lone in two worlds but never alone, I know about companionship, what it offers, know that it can taste both bitter sweet the way I like my hunger to more knowledge, food, tug and pull at things enough and you can have a power, there, in that magic plot to change its perception in your mind, which is to say are you okay even today, how do you explain that your thirst for more about worlds is connected to skin ship, maybe even made love more passionate, there is something so breathtakingly wholesome about experiences crafted of knowledge and later also learn to thrive into the threads of intuition, the weight it lifts off your shoulders and takes stresses away from the tail bone, able bodied, like it disappeares so the next conversation with your soul isn’t that much more speechless, that you can listen to your own voice and feel a sense of comfort, a calm of growing gardens so beautifully radiant it gleems with the sky a patient blue talks into your two worlds, words you didn’t know you needed to hear and again you start to feel the less of unknown pains you did not know you carried all these years, then a beautiful thing happens, you’ve made it here, came aliened your two dominant elements, now let the healing really begin.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Gold Flame. | 4.5.20

As if you could even step to my level, as if you could say anything you haven’t already, haven’t you heard, souls that have found freedom and love with their souls first have unconditional bonds that are bound so intimate they penetrate deep all the way to the mind first then make its loving way to the heart. -I am built on intuition a flame some wish upon themselves, but how can you even begin to wish or hope when you haven’t challenged, accepted, or understood and more. Spiritually fated souls move differently. -Souls crafted into their darkest depths are known to be the healers of our fated connection, we are teachers, we are a part of loves truest form, many will tell you pain is to be left alone, many will only tell you what they are wishing they could also do for themselves, there are steps to this type of life, everyone of us is healing from a cracked us, only so to be mend with gold, only to be held, to be understood some of us feel alien to this world as though we could have been put here in this realm just to meet you, maybe others alike, I was so grateful when I found my purpose in this body, in this life time finding a type of truth to how you choose to live this life is important, we are the signs of evolution when we practice what leaves our mouth, a generation of healers to plant seeds into the next to preserve a better future for the sake of humility. -Life has never been about tangibles but purpose, choose it well, but most of all choose it wise.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animte

Start. Middle. End. | 27.4.20

And they just won’t get it, you have shown her that you are willing and this is not okay for her, flowers that are given with actions that have learnt to groom me into thinking this is love too, we were in this together and you have lost her softness for you, when you learnt to heal for the first time you understood the word brave for the first time, that night will never be forgotten, I don’t know how to wash my eyes and start to heal from that kind of taped memory-, something in you in shifting, you’re not catching yourself from enabling habits anymore, you’re slipping and it has gotten a hold on to your heart, -you know how she feels about love, she thinks, but what about love and trauma, what about her love, we have yet to unlearn cycles, understood that tests will come and you’re to fight off this kind of love before it starts to eat at your soul, this love is eating at your soul, you know what love looks like because you are so much of what it means when it comes to self, use her will into you, do not let your path stray far from this worlds desires, we are too strong for forsaken bodies that have learnt to enable shape shifters who think they chime with our soul before they have understood the mind loving, my healing, what they fail to forget to know me is to know both my mind then my heart, with their loud hands and warm body they take with ease, think they come spring laced with forever’s, pretty words for a pretty body, we are not who we were, we know our kind body to be better than another broken love, we have washed our soul God water clean, love taken and not earned is not a love worthy of your depth here at all, caliber is earned with a heart like mind, show these wicked healing souls to heal and polity ask them to walk the fuck out of this home, but please, do not forget your manners, your trauma has also taught you to be raised better than that, to say thank you as they leave too.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Ache. |22.4.20

I’ve read and read about trauma, one source told me it was a made up term and if I changed my way of centering its attention I can change its outcome, told me that without my focus on its abuse I can learn to live and not operate on survival when it feels like every time I make it close knifes fly at my body, how they cling to my blood and draw out the art of me I am still ashamed to have had, that I care about us, every time I write I bleed why is this any different, this pain feels like it should could never end, say how loud my body yarns for my name at its release so we can both be free, how come we don’t always remember moments in our childhood that free us too, is the pain here too much have we not given it enough attention now, up close how often do we need to die in order to be constantly reborn into new traumas or the same trauma, its all the same pain isn’t it, it still hurts doesn’t it, how come we have to feel it this way into our hearts so deep that even we do not know its pain, we know the hurt the pain is the down pour we have never prepared to drawn or float hard into had to learn to do both and then some, how often is it you check on heartbeats that are still here surviving, we are still here surviving, can we still be here and survive for how long, how long do we have to suffer until all the blood drains out of the pain and the hurt, until we are numb, where and when we can rest from all this feeling, too much blood has been lost yet we are still here, despite us our body is still here, our soul needs us to break, to damage, to grow and heal new skin, until we can know serenity, until we can know tranquility into love, until we are no longer scared of ourselves, our gratitude will be our safety, how much blood has been lost because of ourselves, but we were never given the tools, the knowledge that some day our body will hurt us and all we will want to do is allow it, accept its abuse then give it permission to pass, we get told about our functions but never about our souls, we need a way, any way to not live this too often, we need us.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Wet. | 20/4/20

When I hold my heart this stoic into love we form sentences that seem to cling to our highest self the most, we confide into our boundaries how we speak at love and not into it, for so long we have spoken out for love never took time to know about loves identity how each letter feels in the mouth and curls out the tongue, the twins in you know this feeling all too well, they are your most innocent love light, the intensity of this feeling is almost longing, the chaser and the runner effect is no stranger to attraction that feels as though you were or could be a lesson or the last love you must have as it leaves lovers mouth, as human beings we are at loves mercy when we do not know the ways in which it resides into our whole before we start to select its truest feeling, loved and being in love once before I knew about what power I held into love alone, will always be one of the rosed gardens inside my home their thorns are not new to our heat, only known for its scarlet crimson velvet gaze this too will be a home I also always choose to grow gardens of serenity, tranquil gratitude in loves mirror, the tense is important to recognize when speaking notes of passion, song in boundaries, animated intensity and love in each their own lesson love and loved, I have been at loves mercy too, I knew one day it would be my turn, I did not expect love at my front door this way, knew touch while in a dreamy state, a peaceful stream flowing with ease, guarded air of simplicity’s like how love says your name is enough to turn you into the ocean itself, we did not know of glassed eyes this way we are still learning to know love too, how long is eternity into a feeling that has left the world speechless about it truest meaning, do you know the answer, do you know love at all, if you saw love what would your light towards it be, what words would your soul speak?

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Air work. | 20/4/20

Imagine meeting love again, imagine they speak the way they smile and you could almost take it all back. -remember, remember how their charm invited you to being here, to stay, how love said we belong together, that this was more than the way he looks at you-, remind you they have bruised this body so much turned it into soft enough, your home turned into something consumed by heart break, shy of love, dagger into them, sometimes also the mirror, I’ve told the universe to leave me out of their eyes this way too, I have prayed times that know I have turned my body into soft flesh, easily bruised my home when did it become this naive, who said love me, locked their eyes with mine, softly took my hands into my heart, spoke like they knew what they were doing, I thought love was their twins too, they become familiar with words like they don’t know the body is home, love resides first into me, a carefree careless air about their hands, their eyes lost into mine, this air who comes into a life and says words like hi, how are you, you look happy, as though to mean the opposite as though to mean are you happy without me, as though the eyes spoke for the second time that shift, as though I thought it mean anything but, I am left out of this conversation, I hold my hand to not be back here again, I have called onto my home told them to lock all the doors, said stay safe, they tell me the key is not under the front door it is in your right hand.- and I realize how often I have handed them the key when they filled my space instead of adding to its legacy.