Uncertainty

My feet in your shoes, you were Frankenstein in my dream and you asked me not to be so concerned, and I walked these city streets today, with you walking alongside of of me, I guess that the message that you sent me, is to say that you are alright, and that things are not so bad. And I suspect dream, and I ask, can it all really be from me? And then the morning arises, beside me, together with me, and I await for truth to invade the scene, and the dreams that I had were of yesterday, and I withdraw, and tell myself that they are gone from me now, and that I have to let them go, as they have to let me go, and I am lost in the change between yesterday and today, and this moment is a question, it would like to know where it stands, what it really is, it wants to be assured somehow, that it is somewhere, and I can't commit myself to the idea that it is, regardless, I am lost in this moment, not knowing nor understanding its meaning, because it seems to have become a fusion of the past and the now, and what might become, this moment indeed is uncertainty, and perhaps, would wish to walk in my shoes, in the same way that I have wished to walk in yours.

Literature

There are those who write, and those who achieve the quality of literature, and the ones who write, without achieving this, write within a certain kind of vanity, their eyes are not focussed on the soul, and they self opine, before they reach the end of the page, and they will express how great they are, and how accepted, but they are on a narrow road with a simple conclusion, and they will never touch the magic, that being in touch with literature allows.

Thief of My Soul

Thief of my soul, that is what you are when you plagiarise me, and my soul is pure, and what springs from it, asks for no reward, therefore I am not vulnerable, I stand alone in a comfortable and true place, I have no self acceptance, and no sense of personal acclaim, these are all just lies, and deviations, my journey is on a spiritual path, very much lateral, to the shallow of dillusionary acceptance, and alas, there are shadows, always shadows, and they can be so close, that they can dwell in me, and I believe that they do, these are the shadows of memories, of ones, accepted and embraced, there can be no aloneness, when there is the awareness of memory, just a beautiful solitude.

Difference

I misunderstand you as you misunderstand me I don't take the time and the trouble to walk out of myself, to walk into you, and neither do you, relationship is imperfect, and sometimes it is seriously so, and we are apart although we may seek togetherness, but it can only be very temporary, and we may try to compensate for it with empathy, but this again lacks reality and true conviction, love tries to help, but even love, doesn't always linger, only it lingers for it to make you wish for it to happen again, and there are different types and different understandings, disunity persists, there is at best duality, and we don't take the time to understand our differences and then we fight, and then we war and then we kill in the name of difference, and misunderstanding.

The Ugly Nymphomaniac

Book on the shelf of my mind, it knows, that I was the one who put it there, it needs no accompaniment and it knows that I will be there with it sometime, and its December and there is great mercy in the skies, in this apparent wintertime, and I discarded many clothes today, and I walked out, as I thought, even to the day, wondering about the ugly nymphomaniac, and where she might take her feelings to.

Children

Evil in the good, in the religion of Jesus, when the adherents don't adhere, and I wonder if they further question, or is the belief that they have sufficient to keep them comfortable and stable in the basic belief? And flowers cry for the little children, when they have been betrayed, and the priests are no longer priests, but thieves of the innocents, and in their hearts, they must encounter the truth of themselves, their lives have become statements, aggressive to reason and kindness and to the love and respect of the child. They walk in a selfish direction and every step that they take is contrary to the words of their speech, and the world spectates, sees the actions, condemns, and asks for answers, for it cannot understand how good can turn to bad, there is now ugliness in the face of beauty, but as Socrates once said, 'Beauty is Greatness' and the real of beauty, will assert itself and be free, and will be victorious.

Giving and Taking

To give is to receive, but to be asked to give, is invasive, it can be covetous and a threat to the independence of your freedom, and a slight on your generosity, your goodwill. There are those who wish to give, as there are those, who's only wish is to take, and to be subsumed is to surrender, be overwhelmed, allow for your own defeat. And there are people who will assault you, when they see what, what they pinpoint is your weakness, but this perceived weakness, that they may see in you, is just an attack on your beauty, the goodness of your heart, so hang close to your heart, and allow yourself, your personal freedom, and take care of yourself.

Fools

Fools have volume in their speech, and they will try to dictate, not knowing nor understanding, nor taking the time to try to understand, they know things that they do not know, and they can be invasive and provocative, and they will seek to overwhelm, when they feel intimidation from a person that they don't understand, and I don't think that silence is emptiness now, nor yet passive, just the way to deal with fools.

Reflection of the Sky

Indifinitive sky, changing like my perception, wondering what you really are, and which one of you is the truth of you, and then, I am a reflection of that same sky, and I think, am I any more certain about myself?

Awakening

Your body like an altar, where you yourself worship, on behalf of your collection of men, I remember that I stood to the side, listening to your expression, when I was lost in personal poverty, wonder how you eventually dealt with your duplicity, and to the world there was beauty, and then I discovered, that this so called beauty was deception and lied with your lies, and your version of events betrayed the truth of heart, and then I guess, at a point, you would have to stand alone and watch the film of yourself, and from an innocent sky, tears fell, and when they had subsided, there was still the tang of tears, and there was no touch, no, something to behold, no love, and no reason why, and in the innocent sky invaded darkness, and you walked on your indifferent way, leaving the pretence in your wake, walking toward your personal truth, to your reality, when I had been obliterated, and I wonder where it was, that you went.