I often here the idea that the “worst” place sometimes is to be inside your head. That there is this concept of “over thinking.” There are even many forms of meditation that ask you cease thinking all together or at least let your thoughts run in free form and cling to no single thought. But is it truly a “strength” or “healthy” strategy to cease any thinking, even in meditation?
Well, I have been thinking about this for quite some time. Ever since I listened to an individual, which I cannot remember at this moment. That in gist, “To cease…
Upon this plan be I and billions of minds,
Of meddling lines crisscross a weave of internal sublime
Costing lines of misery blinds,
Shutting sails for moment of silence in rhyme.
Keeping toe, the vision of something to find
Floating in an iris of stars combined
A single place of mine,
Of yours in time
Embracing the catalyst to climb,
Remind self, things are not always in prime.
Sometimes, Our gears grind, Fall behind, We forget, I forget, The fostering of heart Inhale what brings about an art, Depart, from the weathering of emotional debt Project in image of sunset…
With Lucery cuffed to the railing of my stairs and the door locked. I stand with my rifle in hand with the blinds now drawn open at the front window.
I look to him with conviction to show I bare no fear of his presence and will act accordingly dependent upon his actions. Finger pressed firmly above the trigger patiently set to fall upon its curved body, I think, “If I must, then a new window will have to be ordered today.”
Looking to Lucery he gestures for me to open the window. Feeling somewhat secure against my opposition being…
A question I ask my self and wonder if I am?
“Am I me?”
Do you think you are you?
Why do I ask this question?
Well, because me being me and you being you is almost trivial because so many factors go into it. I ask it because, can we ever really be us or is there an ever stretching line of what it means to be ourselves?
Think about it, if you are not assertive in your choices in life and concrete about where you are trying to go. Will the crowd not sway you? So are you…
Are you triggered,
As you dilute your characters figure
In chase of virtuous words
As you acclaim you be injured,
A microaggression seizure
Formed by those in pursuit
Of what you find to discolor,
To be “oblivious” to color,
Shameful to think deeper
Better to be in bitter
Than be of a thinker
One to understand that things can be held in different,
That facts are built by logic Not unsubstantiated banter, Formed by ones shallowest feelings An identity based on where one places their boner, Talk sex, drugs, love is love, But dare speak of the one…
Just like that, the air returns with warmth. The ghostly figure evaporates to the glowing embrace of the sun. My frigid body is no longer grasped by a frozen touch.
I begin to stand with some effort of struggle. Like trying to find your balance after spinning one too many times.
Now standing firmly upon the ground. I look about my surroundings and find no sign of wind. Only the glowing of the sun and the sound of birds signing. I decide to make my way back into my house, but not before picking up my drink.
I grab it…
To those lost,
What are you doing?
Who are you?
Where are you going?
And what is that will define you as a person?
Questions I am sure you ask yourself in some form of light but take little heed to them. Go to your room or any place you are comfortable for thirty minutes and be alone.
Alone without music, without anything but your mind and heart. Close your eyes and form the “perfect” version of yourself in your head, the “perfect” life. Do not create a life based on the materials or life of others.
Start from scratch…
Stepping outside as any another day, I grab my frosted drink I set for winter to cool for the morning. Everything seems as natural as the day before.
The sun’s apricot body shines upon the cool grounds of dying frost. My hand wraps around my cold beverage as I lift it from the table. With my routine drink in hand, I begin to turn toward the entrance to my home.
As I begin my steps against the chill air, a cool gust of wind swarms about me. Nothing seems unusual for such an early morning. …
You Limit Yourself by Identity
(Before you begin, take in a deep breath via the diaphragm, fill your chest…..now release slowly.)
The latest of the latest, be the identity of oppression. A label behind ones oppressive story, be it based on hues of flesh, to behind the scenes economic up bringing, to the imagery of ones sexual desires to come to reality.
But bring those together and you are the ultimate justified human-being. An “innocent” child pitted against the world as it forms its malice around you. Choking all opportunity and choice.
Tossing you wildly about as the oppressor of…
It will be but blank space,
A void in silence as tears are bellowed by memory
Arched waves of hollow pain
As laughter coasts into the quiet,
Portraying beauty in static
Moments clinging like passing rain,
Drying to the raise of a new day.
It will all be empty, Forgotten in rise of the fresh A palate in taste of new As crops breach old soils Reaching to distance heavens, Only to gain passing by wilting winters Succumb to ending winds Feeling only the blaze of the final As eyes gleam to what either be done, Or plates left with…
Just a man that was once lost in the pursuit of understanding himself. I write short stories, poems, and motivational pieces. (Instagram @poemjunkybiffle)