Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Astro creatures | 8/10/2023.

I tell her come down

Our world has fallen before heartstrings know when they have been had

When they have been replaced with what makes more sense, the how in heart behaviour, she has been the replacement long before she was born

Her blood curses her out in her favourite way, out loud and green some of us prefer to perish before the after life we like to be in control of our mortality

Some of us have vanes that seem blue but are actually disguised as green

I’ve been told to stop feeling so blue to stop being so blue but how do I let them know that for you to survive the next level is to murder your ego, I advice them

Take your mask off this instant.

They never warn you about yourself unless the skin matches the mirror

Here, we get to close and wonder why,

Here, we make connections that are dreamt into astro they don’t tell you that a carrot is a hybrid that if you eat too much for your vision you might turn into an orange light

Fuck around disappear, fuck around become clean, here we like to play with the words and evolve them as they desire to appear, here we live in open awareness, -here we choose this way of a life first.-

What they don’t tell you about happiness is that it is okay alone too, what they don’t tell you about love is that it will require and surrender you first every-time. – when you feel this is a clear sign of vulnerability, I will charge your time for this healing. Next time it won’t be this cheap.-

Melody of being animate: Poetry

4:44 what I saw. | 30.08.2023

I hear you, loud and clear, you watching the tree’s talk to each other and blame it on the wind, its fine this way you think standing feet rooted to the door step of your home you take a deep breath, –knock knock.– Come in, and kindly leave your shoes by the door in this household we like to feel again, come in, respectfully gage my attention I have been known to follow my heart the days talk, come in, and let’s talk about why gardens are metaphors for ours this one is for bodies that feel their souls as they succeed themselves, –come in, leave your mask in that fish tank you won’t be needing it here. This home has been known to challenge what you think you already understand.– I hear you loud and clear, knock knock, the door opens and it’s her, the one who we do this for she is here, I walk over to her she must be scared, she tumbles in grabbing at my finger they talk about roses out there but they leave the part out about the thorns, -she ask’s us why do they leave the thorns out, don’t they see that without it there isn’t, don’t they see how delicate we hold them so close to our bodies-, we all take a deep breath as we do our best to keep her safe and ready for the first world.

My heart, we have been here so long sometimes we forget that there have been others even before her, I hold her right hand and we walk towards her eyes, look at the beautiful garden we have created with everything we have accomplished I know that we want so badly to be seen it could turn tears into oceans, -the mind has a ways about her eyes I think to myself-, I can’t help but wonder about the ways we have spent of us pouring, pouring, pouring, pouring until you have to learn when to stop and look at what is in front of you, I tell her never mind because I don’t want her thinking more than she already does it has a way of making it heavy, -the mind cups her left hand guiding her through the garden she has grown for herself- I want everyone to see the good things take time, they whether faster then they grow you’ll see, as we are walking we stumble upon mind’s memories thinking about how we learnt to let go of parts of us that thought to keep us safe rather kept us hidden, -they don’t talk about how we are all learning to survive ourselves then live- my heart, I’ve been wondering why you think this way of the first world, this world has taught more than ourselves and what we are willing to do to keep our justice, it has taught us how to love harder even when we are being screamed at why do you do this to yourself, it has given us purpose to live in our truth if we surrender to our choices, I’ve heard how they make fun of peoples homes these people are learning how to survive their homes, we get to choose how our choices unfold it teaches us language such as mauwa ya akili the art reads flowers for the mind already we hear the waves of memories and feelings it streams, -we laugh together take a deep breath as we take time to be present again, doing our best to keep her safe and ready for her first world.-

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

The undead. | 16.11.22

Russ sang (2021) “Misunderstood, you only see
Pieces that fit your view of me
Your mind is made up, my hands are tied
Misunderstood time after time.”

I missed this, grape dreams high as grape trees we are the undying melodramatics that sit in the evening sky to hear if the world sounds different now, we see so much of its life on our bodies, the lines that curve our palms to the light hairs that gaze at the afternoon brief sun, welcome to Spring. During this time of year, we are most of everything and anything at once, we prefer to be called Spring in late November. I can hear the chants louder now, I can listen to our bubbly life crush like waves against the currents, I tell you I can feel it all. I mean I can listen to how my hearts feelings break with every gas-lit, I can feel my mind see the shuttering of possibilities of loosing who I have worked so hard to become at the sight of undying love, to watch as the operation in me the 33 reason just to be forsaken and granted otherwise; have we not died enough? I often ask myself now was there anything to save if there wasn’t anything wanting to be saved, burning more Cole, more Russ and Russel we have been finding ourselves too long they say to me -you have been anything but what I want you to be-, screaming with their mouth closed I think to say screaming with my mouth open. -I am no one but myself first-, reciting citation of nothing but mad mouths and not my mouth we have not been each other around each other, we have been hesitating to bare truth knowing this will not work for us. Our love does not stand a chance against our truth,- and so I ask, have you heard of the Spring in late November? Have you read her words and yielded their power for truth in front of fear? Have you witnessed to brave Spring bring back November from the wake of realms to present then you have not lived long enough to witness the rebirths of deaths. -A fearless spirit guided by untamed compassion.- There is nothing to fear here -I tell her, love.- Loves come in great forms and leaves a Spring in late November, we are the prophecy of its legend.

Russ sang (2021), “I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired
Of overexplaining myself when you don’t want to get it
I’m not responsible for what you don’t understand
Just for what I say and who I am.”

To my defence I missed this, grape dreams high as grape trees we are the undying melodramatics that sit in the evening sky to hear if the world sounds different now, we see so much of its life on our bodies, the lines that curve our palms to the light hairs that gaze at the afternoon brief sun, welcome to Spring. During this time of year, we are most of everything and anything at once, we prefer to be called Spring in late November.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Child. | 28.7.22

Thinking about the time I first learnt to dream, thought about how my dreams felt in my mind and watched them carry my body into different lives, at the time though to be linear I was balancing two life’s, thought about one demise, then I thought about how I first learnt to dream again and again and I felt my body melt at our persistence for a taste at a life, I felt safe here, I felt heard I could hear our home choose words that did not break our spirits here we learnt to dream, at the end of our beckoning of our pit fall we looked at the hole we dug and dragged our dreams up with us, we carried everything we wanted to be and gave it life in the form of our second life which presented as our first, I say blessings are always at the pit of our mindset, they take form in many smart I mean careless, I mean look what I have done with all of our work, I worked hard for us, for our dream look at me and all I have done to work hard for our dream, I have started our dream in oceans and rose them from the seas wet sand up crashing with the wave as they find their way home, I have to remind our home that it resides here too, that our realities may coldie however in this one we are the most how far we’ve come, —I tell her we have Matchbox Twenty our life into a simple plan peaces of me and this song saved my life, my memories of my life are still in motion in my mind we are the Ever Lasting Friend who chose to pick up the parts of herself that rested her inner child we speak of her less and less here this way it is most needed, each day we are in remembrance of her oceans that brought us to these shores we are her safe heart her gate keep, we are her protectors she has many that come after her we do not run at the sight of danger we root our feet into the wet sand and call on our home as loud as the dark sea’s crashing upon dark wet sand we are here to protect our own for all the meddling creatures that think to dampen our fire disguised as the great sea’s.—

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

The goddess of love and passion. | 18.3.22

And so I tell them, I am more than you could swallow, —I make my own bones shake, we are not the same.— I tell them, my existence is to experience me and stay full on my own, I remind them it is not my responsibility to inspire your flame the way I walk upon this self couraged confidence I have crafted fates we are not the same, I tell myself you’re the goddess of love and passion you imitate your power so loud some may think it to be for them and selfish yet selfless you stay three burning flames, selfish like the way your love has learnt to share more into our home before she agrees to bring her waters and bowed head to the cook out of celebrations, dare her light be selfless as though her power be the only godly gift about her. — We have always stepped into our shadow so we can turn into calm water and earth, we are the garden of ease. We displeasure of temperaments here to break our necks and not our backs, say I Will never be responsible for your happiness I am building my legacy too high for my emotions to lay bare for my worth of anything taste emotion from another’s lips first, I am the goddess of love and passion.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Thank you, for your words and your actions. | 8.1.22

Poetry isn’t supposed to be beautiful, its not supposed to be anything. Poetry is that powerful that it holds space for us all, it gives without asking for anything in return, poetry give us meaning, it gives us connection, it keeps on learning to keep us informed about love. Poetry is many things, poetry has a galactic way about its form it not in our near speech, we are at peotrys mercy, poetry admires us because we bring poetry to life, poetry teaches us about balance, poetry gives us the tools and shows us our courage to use our tools to take our steps, poetry is not saying they are right, poetry is only half the journey your form is also your teacher. When we become poetry we are unlearning, when we become our form we are learning, we are never without each others guidance, we need poetry and poetry needs our form. —They don’t warn you about the magic or words separate from actions and actions separate from words, they only learn you what they mean together. The impact of words is the knowledge and the power, the impact of actions in the wisdom and the courage. We have always lived alongside both but never taught about their separate impact, one impact is always told to be more dominant to the other and this is wrong; Be mindful and be kind. The skills you learn in this lifetime will show who you are in the present, and who you’re claiming to become in future. Practice this kindness, thank poetry and form later if you must.—

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

To the greatness of us all. | 5.1.22

To the nights where my mind is filled with more ache than thoughts, I tell her I will hold her for however many times she needs she is needed here our home together just like this and much more, I comfort her with my dreams we watch the two sun’s rise to remind us we have always also been the sun’s in our lifetimes, we sit in silence listening to the air make soft music creating notes into our home that soothe us here in this dream life, — when I wake find my mind in her solitude I am reminded of our bodies freedom, how each pulsed thought shares some of its truth here before it leaves our home, our air has always been fire proof we have been working with the new gifts for the purpose of moments of pure clarity on what to do with the idea that you have to be at your most welcomed self belief in love with you and I hope you find what time is to you about this memory. — affirm that you can, you will and you can, give yourself grace, you have to be willfully mindful of these paths they are made to cross create a life worthy of your help on a continuum, the choice is always yours for the seizing.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Prosper. (Gods speed) | 5.1.22

So I’m sitting here juice mixed thinking about the currency in which we possess to thrive our lives, and I can’t help but feel as though my polymer needs to learn to work for me to the speed of my heart, my passion for a home has alway been my way of life, it has kept me safe in thinking the keep for independence and wellness will keep me alive long enough to see my inner peace. Like could you imagine what it would be like, —to wake to a dream that has been manifested to be built upon your own, I mean have you heard about how the stars are lights in the sky, have you seen the moon drop down to your eye level and you stare at each others light thinking I knew one day that this day would come I would be here and we would talk in light.— I can’t sleep, the insomniac in me is ragging with so much phenomena I can not contain her dragon breath no longer, —she is back with all her valour she thinks to have found a way to our dreams some more, thinks she can feel it in our eyes, see it in our heart and bend it in our mind;— she has woken from her sleep, and is ready to take on yet another the same way she skips to step to the beat of her own strum; We haven’t seen flowers lately nor rainbows for that matter, the best we have done is —be the rain our element has never been shy about her passing to the next future—, we crave this chance the same way the rain begs at our feet. Keep safe, na tuta onanana as we set mission intention in more —Prosperity.

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Magi ina patia amani kwa akili. (Water gives peace to the mind.) | 28.12.21
How does it make you feel, when I mention things that are this close to my skin I tell secrets like the person is the weight in my heart my mind is full of their presence. Whenever I can’t put together these picture pieces I lay in its memory, a comfort of fast feelings and thoughts-, I’m alive when the rain mimics my body, we are both in a world where we have come to love our magic, —I tell it all my heart has been holding back and the rain listens in different chimes, we get so lost in conversation she eases my heart and mind with her melody, the best kept secret, when you befriend the rain, you see yourself living in so many ways, its so easy to get lost in talks of hope, there’s a lot of uncertainty but the chime, the words are still raining down on you, you can really begin to feel it, the hold it has cradling you rocking you back and forth this time the conversation is different, this time we are asleep walking home, when my eyes are closed like this they are the most open, I see words, I can taste the colours they dye, I can see so much it’s difficult to explain outside of this world, and the rain here is also my friend, she is a beauty of drops of so many mylenya, being able to mean something and represent as a purpose is the light around here, and so when I wake, I try to remember my life there and that with its cohesive permission am I too able to convert that becoming here on our water planet too.—

Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Drawing to stay alive. | 13.8.21

As it gets closer to my birth right I hear the sun through my skin, I can feel the change is near she is invited, she carries her optimism as her secret weapon so that when you see nervous she wills herself here the most, ,—a cunning nature that is vulnerable to the seeing eyes say those who do not see the whole of me have no worth to see me at all, —tell them to watch themselves as they spill right in-front of you say how careless are we to think a better version of ourselves dare you a heart too, dare you a mind that has learnt to skin alive she will peel back your layers you are layered, did you know this when you broke you lips to speak in poison? That each parts of self has soul so that begs each mouth to be the reckoning of legacy be the part where you first witnessed yourself glory be the sky you are the sky, this is your story to tell. —So tell me baby rain, when was the last season you first fell stumbled and picked your soul back up, we have to remind ourselves everyday who we are is plenty becoming and plenty sunflower, see the light ambers it shines deep into the fate of her eyes destiny she is your legacy to leave this earth and travel to the moon least once and back say—, have you heard of the ocean and how she swallows you whole like the way the sky and the ocean could hold the same space learn your deepest of desires make you smirk at you, seeing a sea reflection into these parts of the world, how they travel magically familiar into one another, have you seen this happen before; tell me, do you know what I mean?; please tell me you know what I mean? I have lived a many life’s and all have never been my first nor my last they have lived as I have became to live them and outlive them our past selves are travellers, and our future souls are to bare witness of the metamorphosis of our physical being hold prayer for our glory too, though soft to the touch this body has known much evil fire try to take her away from all that is good and well, again are we bodies reminded of our strength our power into us matched to our soul some more; shhhh can you hear the voices of intuition guiding your through this thought of mission too, we are purposeful beings there is nothing we are not capable of becoming even when we cry about our attempts enough to fill the sea her self, we come back to the ground just to reach the sky herself we revive as the rooted sunflower’s walking upon this land here in this form as we carry our voice as fruits of our labour too to say we did our best here, we will continue to become our greeted legacy even if it kills our past and ignites our future this is our dream, this is our story. — That’s quite enough of that from me, I’ve told you mine, now, won’t you share with me a part of your soul too?—