Ode to Pens

You’re seeing this now,
what I wrote then,
somehow brought together
by this silent instrument.

I flow through its narrow passage to colour the surface,
my tone polishes the inks  poisonous rivulet; 
or so I hope,
for your burning ears on the other side.

Listen,
and know my words don’t mean a thing
compared to how I carry them,
for its integrity which lifts the soul.

"The Ultimate Guide"

Reality is,
the truest story told
has not been written
in a language
we can understand.

Exposed Brick

Because there is a new fashion in town

you may not have heard how once

dry hands placed red brick by red brick

to build this brawny structure.

How times have already changed!

Now cracked hands are swiping evenness over

lines of red brick by red brick

grey cement hiding the hours of dry hands.

Eventually weather crumbles

a seasonal façade

exposing brick at the edges

hinting to an elongated process.

How time changes

complexity’s beautiful dry hands

red brick by red brick --

by simplicity’s beautiful cracked hands

grey swipe by grey swipe.

On Potentialism

Do you notice the capable of being? The not yet in existence, but which silently devises it all? Potentialism is a theoretical extension of the word ‘potential’ and otherwise means ‘budding’, ‘would-be’, or ‘impending’. This work attempts to illustrate the practical daily effects potentialism has on our overall livelihood. My motivation is to find resilience in each moment, effectively strengthening our buoyancy to adapt. How to live a life of potentialism? Based on a literature review, the research suggests that potentialism is generally damaging and dangerous. Following it’s assumption whole heartedly can lead to massive disappointment if an aim is not reached.  To the best of my knowledge, that is a pathetic examination. What truly comes abreast from a system of potentialism? If hope and ability coincide at every moment, then a potentialist attitude overcomes emptiness. I tested my hypothesis against criticism and found that hope and ability, two mind’s eye elements, immediately render critiques defenseless. Here, I recognize that potentialism can be damaging if met blindly. Even dangerous if approached with narcissism. However, those who consider living with arms and eyes wide open will find the theory an enriching experience in practice. Potentialism is a way of seeing an exceptional concurrence that each moment gifts to our universe. The mission is to heighten the awareness of the destiny of hope and ability, in order to enable a perceiver to seize significance in transitory time.  Bareness is overcome by the concurrent coupling of a widely available up-lifter which inspires what can be learned, if not naturally endowed, upon the perceiver. This conclusion is not based on realism, liberalism, socialism, constructivism, opportunism, positivism, individualism, pessimism, classism, racism, fascism, protectionism or sheer optimism.  My study is based on Gratitude-ism, and Namaste-ism, and Luck-ism.  In sum, your potential mission is already aborted if you don’t see it. Conversely, if you do see potential, your mission only may fall short in practice. Either way, your odds of fulfillment are better if you try. So, do!

Definitions:

—     Potentialism believes in the concurrence of hope and ability at each moment, regardless of circumstance.

—     Potentialists are inspired to see hope and ability regenerating existence, regardless of circumstance.

Magnitude of Multitude

Silence is full of it – a magnitude of multitude.

Particles parting on tangents in any direction,
their fractals colliding at some funky intersection.

No wonderin' if lost; sure to be wanderlust.

You’re bursting with it too; no one can figure you out.

I like it that way, to be kept on my toes.
Surprise! Here comes the ho-hum prose,
Taken high with rocks and rolls, dropped low
with rhythms and blues, songs of our souls
dust settles onto tired bones rocking in a chair.
That's the truth; so better dare. Run where

fertile fields of fascination buds the allure of imagination. There,
the wildflowers grow. Come
to my garden to reap what I sow! A fruit-
ful(l) lover clogged in the gutter. Left
to explore perplex. Figures to simplify
complex. Suns burn around black holes; haven
in your eyes. Not as empty as they look; merely their disguise.
Don't you see? There is no vacuity.
Potentialists see hope lighting up our ability!

Find the youth of the mortal, meet the catcher in the rye.

Live words to a portal, see the wink of an eye.

I’m full of it, so are you –
a magnitude of multitude.

Active Addiction

I have an active addiction.
A prescription I mix myself.
Try some? However you’d like.
You can shoot, inhale, swallow, or dream it.

(There are a hundred more ways,

just as long as you free wit)

To be high on junk is an out of body experience,
to be low on junk is the mind’s inexperience.
It will draw me to crowds and isolate me to caves,
I get so built-up. The absurdity saves!
Luckily, there’s abundance.

I neeeeed my fixx. I love the concoction.
Overdose to the point of exhaustion.
I have noticed side-effects.
I go astonishing places with company or on my own-some,
Always a friend there, not at all lonesome.

The doctors say there isn’t a cure.
And I’m delighted they’re right.
Does it suffice to say, I’ve got free my psyche?
There’s too great a force to keep the lid tight.

Imagination is my preferred vice.

Circumstance

Under no circumstance, shall I be

too smart to learn

too proud to admit

too greedy to give

too guarded to love

too blind to see

too dark to shine

too pity filled to overcome

too hurt to try

too rigid to smile

too lazy to do

Under no circumstance, who shall be you?

Highlighter

Sweeping a tint of radiance over another’s tip-off, 

recognizes they’ve somehow enhanced our own.

Sparkle Core : Twinkle Eye

You’re beautiful.

From your twinkle eye to your sparkle core.

You forget how brilliant you are.

All those spinning twisted thoughts drawing your skies grey.

Picking up your home pieces and moving them farther from your sparkle.

When you're wondering why all the tangled chaos left you with this?

Open your twinkle eye.

Whirlwinds circle hastily inwards, closer and tighter to their hollow.

They can't handle spring, caught uneasy between searing and chilly pressures.

Lightning beats tornados with jolt-bolts, shocks to energize their sparkle core.

Thunder whips and grumble-rumbles when tornados haven't listened.
Still they bully out of control, unable to open their twinkle eye.

They twist most in May when once frozen buds are growing-up, pushing up-right --

becoming stronger than the weight of the world.

Light your sparkle core with your twinkle eye;

no twisting tighter towards the hollow.

You think you have nothing?

You have everything!

Crimson Ruby

Yes, I’m here to see you.

No, I’m not a thief.

This is lust, drop some fear, pick up some trust.
I didn’t come to take it. It’s yours.

Besides, I fall up. Better if you keep it.

Plus, I’ve already got one of those crimson rubies.

It’s cracked like anything else, except somehow not broken.

I’m fond of here. There are put-rights all around this harbour.

Perhaps I’ll get to mend my sail.

Could use some help though.

The seams are rough and raw. Needles, they poke; threads, they choke.

A fine work takes careful patching. We’ve got time.

Destined for our haven! Meanwhile, come closer.

I’m generous. I'll open my chest so you can see it.

Take my hand. Take even my breath.

Just don’t run off with my ruby.

Wait.

How did I end up with yours? I didn't mean for that.

Did I mistake your gem for mine? They’re the same shape and colour.

Maybe I am a crook.

Wait.

Where is mine? Did you steal it in avenge?

This is demeaning!

Since when did two wrongs make a right?

And now where has my sail gone? Do you have that too?

Is that what we get, a bunch of twisted unfamiliar knots in the ropes of our vessel?

Are we really left with less than with what we came?

I’ll be a ghost if I lock my chest. My shadow is anchor enough.

I followed the light of your home.

Or, was it the light of the moon?

Ah, the curse of the crimson ruby!

So that’s how the legend has it.

But we all carry one; there must be a great value.

We can't all be damned from the start.

I believe in all its treasure-- its power, its pleasure.  

I’ve heard you can find blessings in disguise.

Besides, I know that you can’t possibly have mine.

You don't even mean to go near it.

You're just following your own.

How could you hold onto mine when you’re always falling up?

How would you break mine into pieces? It’s already cracked.

Let's put this right.

Why was it I came here? Oh yes, some light.

Its curse must be a dark misunderstanding.

Love is in disguise!

Your ruby has an irresistible charm.

I believe it’s in the way you polish it. 

I love you with all of mine you know.

I selected this post to be featured on my blog’s page at Poetry Blogs.