QUEEN H Y P O T H E T I C A L

these two poems are collaborative efforts : the first portion was created by the one and only Sylina Black! she’s a favorite writer of mine *not to mention – PERSON and best friend!* she managed to come up with this in very little time. she stirred the motions in the little information I gave her outside of the title. It flowed and struck a match to the very fire I needed to bring out the rest. may you find something of merit and thought from it. 

 

In a lone world
Where the whole world
Is not the sole world,
Queen Hypothetical reigns supreme.
A land where fantasy meets reality,
Queen Hypothetical is allowed to dream.
And in those dreams, creation fills a void otherwise unmet,
What if’s and possibilities run free, unrestricted, solely for the Queen, and yet,
In this lone world there lived a young duke ,
Who would not allow possibility to go unexplored.
He would not allow anyone to suffocate his dreams, no Queen nor King, Lady or Lord.
Day and night he’d dream, sharing his adventures with no one,
Fully aware of what the Queen had done.
Traipsing through the land that the Queen had called her own.
He found that in this land, the what if’s had only grown.
In love with the power of creation,
The ability to imagine if things happened only the way she’d seen,
Queen hypothetical outlawed exploration of the dream –
Barring her subjects from visiting.

– Sylina Denise

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lashes as long as the century, some of them fell into the penitentiary!

for what is the worth of a memory, which longs to be retrieved?

the profoundness of that experience, is what causes lamentation to the bereaved !

her eye lashes were as long as the century!

*jailing her hair cells into a penitentiary!*

that’s a hunnit (not a hundred – a hunnit!) years – of lashes and flashes!

for, many of her hair strains , would often and randomly fall into her eye.

thereby, prompting her brain to spy.

for she needed to remove the burning itch inside.

she knew she had to enlarge her pupils far and wide!

she by blinking – always made sure her subjects never stopped thinking!

day by day – swaying throughout the Winter and May.

for every season, she remained with a reason.

Queen Hypothetical or King Heretical?

The measures of possibility drawn – excites the spawn to yawn.

when it comes to kings, queens, and everything in between – the state of royalty can begin to be seen:

indifference is now made ‘qualified’ by the subjugation of the rulers of this nation.

rulers which set measurements of potential realized fiction!

though the lines appear straight, the path of least resistance is not too shy from affliction.

a hypothetical equation? may fancy a decadent persuasion!

can one still crumble as the words falter and begin to mumble?

endless are the seas that begin with the question!

for the search is indeed dressed as ‘HYPE’ and the aesthetics of every queen, king, and everything in between is worn through every impression.

queen hypothetical makes expression, the lesson of any and every imagined possibility.

this may serve to remove us from the gaze of docility.

TO THE QUEST FOR THE GEMS

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“FOLLOW THE GOLDEN LEAVES! FOR THE GOLDEN LEAVES WILL SHOW YOU WHERE TO GO.” in this case click the link below and watch this cartoon that I’ve been blessed to be a part of.

I’ve always wanted to be a part of a cartoon and this was manifested out of random collision. there’s something deeper brought out via cartoon animation which can’t be expressed through real life.

Our brains need to bend in wavy suggestive display. we are always better for it! think about how better you feel when watching cartoons? our memories are wavy and solidified by the morning suspense. I’ve been blessed to be a part of something so profound which brings to light much needed joy and enlightenment in such a time like this!

To The Quest For The Gemswas created by the talented artist and cartoonist Justin Macintosh and Jeremy Garner. I could tell you what it’s about but it’s only 16 minutes and 23 seconds – you can spare yourself some enlightenment and uplifting music to go alongside with the various messages told! I am very delighted to be given the invitation to lend my voice and passion to such a creation. This was once an idea. it had no form. no interaction. until the connection was made and we all used (digitally) tools built it up. All from across the world, by amazing people!

the 4 j’s united in harmony ! check out these talented artists and show support and love for the work they putting in.

https://tinyurl.com/rd2uhy4 – Justin Mcintosh
https://tinyurl.com/uwjmzw5 – Jeremy Garner
https://tinyurl.com/rm7p733 –  Jess from Galactic Gangsters

A closer look into rhymes and funky magic can spin us into worlds not easily understood. If you want to gain understanding – fret not by following along with the hacks and hints found inside the symbols.

we can be full without having to empty ourselves of what we’ve eaten at the table of riddles and innuendo. find it clear in your dreams – it’ll make sense as it’s all written down!

Shucks of Influx

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WELCOME TO THE SHUCKS OF INFLUX! 

growing up in my household it was ok to say either “shucks’ or “shoot” as it was never acceptable to say “shit.” however, not saying ‘shit’ never made much sense to me. (well sometimes, when you ain’t saying shit – you’re at a safer distance to extra drama :D)

it made little sense to me as a child, seeing especially that it had the same first letter ‘s’ one of them really sounding offensive, after all to shoot is to kill. one of my earliest memories, is when my brother and i were jumping on my grandmother’s bed mattress, convinced that cursing couldn’t be bad if we substituted the curse word for something similar. instead of saying “got damn!” we’d say “got dang!” fudge you! you’re a burp! nah, you’re a beep and you’re telekinesis is raging! “etc, etc.

making up words or changing how you use them is pretty common among children and those that prefer not to use ‘4 letter words’. i hesitate to call them ‘curse’ words however, especially in the context of hitting your bare toe against a solid wood frame.

what word comes first to mind and then eventually out of your mouth when *shift* happens? i like to think of ‘shit’ as a *shift* or a burp in consciousness. it happens when you’re moving very fast and not with proper focus to your immediate surroundings. some still prefer to instead say “artichoke!” instead of using a word associated to vulgarity.

sheeeeiiiittttttttt – there is a crunch to such words but the sentiment is what reminds us that words are malleable.

“we don’t give a duck what u got on! we just wanna c u work that sexy body all night long!”

– 1+1+1 is 3

shoot: but only if you are willing to load the gun!

shoot: you almost hit the bulls eye!

shoot: you are close but only in mind, not in action.

aww shucks: oh, many plans that do not meet their end goals! another idea that made it into the draft folder. the folder filled with half-written promises with abbreviations (with unclear acronyms as their subjects) all hidden in the quotes of day to day conversations. another idea!!! one which missed the morning train, now you need a lift!

you know what’s OVERWHELMING? having to revive an old thing without new inspiration. it would be like, being expected to drink out of a glass that’s ALWAYS filled to the brim. you’re doomed to waste something on either you or the ground. this shouldn’t be surprising but we often are ‘shocked’ when the elemental orbits collide.

if we are mindful of the surface, we would fret to put so much weight onto one thing. you wouldn’t expect a table with a loose screw to hold up too long, would you? so, how is it that we expect of ourselves the burden of doing more?

at some point you have to wonder, why am i rushing? what am i trying to prove? the calendar and stopwatch is looking at you demanding a result. sloppy or fine or we gonna make it on time?

We sometimes enter the shucks of influx when we run into the conscious demands of reality and fantasy.  however, it’s no real reason why we can’t obtain what’s written in our dreams. the draft folder doesn’t have to be as big as it is. if by being obedient to attention we can truly change the dynamics of our circumstance. procrastinating is a scratch that never becomes solved. the misery of sloth is a crippling sensation but yooooooo! it’s time to gooooooo. yoga is now yooo, gooo! whip your hip to the trip that will make you flip!

for horrid is the knife that doesn’t cut and takes longer to get through. the more agile you are, the less you are stuck to a sticky couch that commands more consumption and less creation.

lately my pen has been sewing needle, which means the connections are unfurling – push the button and let’s stay connected. this is an ongoing movement but we have the tools capable of manifestation – so, yo!!!!!….GO!

Luck & Pray

There’s never one way of praying because prayer is meditative.

Prayer is communication.

We’re all praying whether we give someone: Blessings! Good Vibes! & Best of luck!

Whenever you assure somebody that they got this! When you’re praying for someone – you’re sending out love or at the very least – The best of what can be for them.

Prayer is the hope that your situation can improve. It’s the vibration of a positive evolution to your current state of affairs – It’s a push of optimism without the guarantee that things will develop for the best but a prayerful insight reaches for compassion.

Praying for someone is putting someone in your hearts nest – holding them in your intention like a lover would secure their love in a protective intensity.

Prayer is the indication that some thoughts are reserved just for your benefit and comfort – and with this energy of positivity may every prayer see you through.

*I wrote this for my homie Mr. Ivory Snow – who put this on his latest album Snow. It’s a song about prayer. He produced all the music and finished the album in two weeks! Talk about inspiration! 

Th3 R3sounding 3

What is it about the number 3 – that finds itself in a charm box? Could it be that 3 is ‘lucky’? Or at least special because of the magic associated with it? “3 is the magic number, oh yes it is!” There’s a lot of reasons to believe that or to draw out connections that correspond with that idea but math has a way of spinning truth or illusion depending on which set of rules you’re using.

The number 3 will have a different association come next year but as it stands now – a flashback of experiences rush through me like lightning. Rarely do we keep up and remember all of the ways we are invested in the activity of daily living. Going to parties. Drinking with friends. Sharing a smoke with the homie. Eating a great meal with loved ones. All of this can happen at any time and become a practice of natural circumstance. If you don’t write down the way these connections are formed you can easily forget them unless they are stored properly. *At least for me, I write it down and forget about it until the occasional reading again.*

Life keeps on going and art helps us remember some of the details we have missed. 2015 was an incredible year for me and while I try not to always look back, sometimes I find myself staring at the things of the past. That year, in particular, had me hooked on purple high – which transformed so many of my experiences.

The purple vortex is so large it has a tendency to color all 2015 with a wide toothbrush as if that’s all that ever happened that year. Obviously, a lot of other things happened, but if you ask the red and blue from Minnesota – all the colors besides purple were all joined together to make a white space. (In other words, it didn’t exist as much as purple) 2015 was also the year I found out, I had to make the difference in where I wanted to go. I was no longer a passenger in someone’s car – I was the chauffeur of all my dreams.

Looking back like Lot’s wife means turning into a pillar of stone. Our memories and reactions to them are forever emblazed in statues. They live on. History is doomed to repeat itself under a new set of circumstances. It doesn’t matter what decision you make today, tomorrow may scoff at it or adjust it like a painting that’s hanging crooked on the wall.

We can’t help to correct or even re-imagine some of the actions of the past. I had a burning need to convey whatever was hot on my heart. Sometimes I succeeded at the vision while other times I just planted a seed that would mature within time. The time has come – after three years, reflection begins to take over. You look back and see those seeds and think of new ways you can remix or remaster.

Creating as a hobby is not the same as creating professionally but the focus of the creator is the same – to create and manifest. Someone may get it while others may get it only to a certain point. The begging question is – Will I be doing this even if money was not involved? Magic never hides its tricks but it may disguise itself in unfamiliar colors.

So what is it about some time periods that stick out to the creator? Maybe the details were not fully crafted or maybe – the fact that something done 3 years ago is enough to excite one to build on it currently. I should point out that 3 to me is a charm. There’s a flow of consciousness that is found in any number. Adding or subtracting can connect to any relevance one believes seriously enough to accept.

Anything can be a message or a window to a fresh perspective. What resounds me about 3 is how much we’ve convinced ourselves of its purpose in our lives.

“1 and 1 and 1 is 3 – got to be a joker, he just do what he please!”

“There is me and then there’s 3 – a trinity of Spirit, Soul, and Mind. Shell. Yoke. White. Past. Present. Future.

Ambiguous Windows

The rise of the enchanting normal
Separates the odd and the desolate
Ambiguous windows are imagination’s fate

I know that revelation is out there
I can sense the tap on my shoulder
Once turning away from it – the touch persisted and became older
I Can’t find the source of my irritation
Might it be the mind leading me to imagination?

The windows of my confessions are ambiguous
The doors to my certainty are locked away
The key to my access is chained to a combination of gray

Everybody’s looking for a story to relate
Looking at a situation that encourages them to no longer wait
Although I can play recommended part
I can’t convince myself to start

The windows of my confessions are ambiguous
The doors to my certainty are locked away
The key to my access is chained to a combination of gray

When lost to the present idea – I’m pulled by the culture of group think
Everyone abiding by their own ink
If we can believe our own rosy illusion
Why should we run away at confusion

I’ve looked in the mirror far too less
My reflection is anyone’s guess
I much rather look out the window to find anything that can be
Imagination removes the veil and sets us free

Adore


/*/ I made this video 7 years ago. I was inspired by the doors ahead. What it would mean if I nervously or anxiously opened the door ahead of me. A mystery is what answers what’s beyond the door, you’ll only know if you turn. Dreams are meant to help you connect the random dots of the day. /*/

“If we could all do it because it was easy, then we’d all do it.”

Would we all do it, tho? Some do it because it’s hard – the very nature of it being hard providing motivation for the heart. There’s a growing need to do what’s written. You can only do what is written by writing it down.

Doing your To Do Lists. I’ve gotten back to carrying index cards and writing in my ‘To Do Journal.’ (Much respect to Siju, for reminding me of such tasks) There’s a lot of work to do, so best have a list to help narrow what’s important and what can wait. Cuz let’s face it: A lot of what we do on the daily bases can wait. Procrastination is seen as a toxic nuisance but it has the tendency to work with the creation of more important things.

Time Management is crucial but has the tendency to be a pain in the ass, only because it highlights the underdog prioritizing what’s relevant. Narrowing the obese just enough to fit in your jeans.

The relationship we have with time is crucial in how we function with it. It doesn’t have to be against us when we commit to showing up on time. We owe this to our goals by aligning in time with them. Look at all of your opportunities as being found behind the doors of life.

The door is already complete. All you have to do is turn the knob and enter in. No one is stopping you from entering except YOU. The strength of your turn depends on the will you have to pursue what’s in front of you.

The idea of a door is to manifest the seeds that have been planted. You can only do this the moment you let go and take the chance. What’s stopping you? Capital? Contacts? Maybe you haven’t met the right people who have the resources to make it happen. They are other roadblocks which show up through hesitation by feeling afraid to fail. The embarrassment and the lost may seem too far to deal with.

Trust me when I say: YOU CAN HANDLE IT! It won’t all return to you void. You might cry a bit. Be broke for a while. End up lost with no compass on where to go. Close to suffering. Reaching for your last breath. *I ain’t said this shit would be enjoyable.* Quite honestly we fret often because of what losing means. Prepare to be lost. Being lost is not only an adventure but a direction to other places.

Doors prepare us for what is ahead and we’re reminded by all of the forces before us to Be Willing. Willing to open the door to what suits the unexpected. Take the risk of the mystery to which I say:

Adore ! Adore! Open it up! Slowly or with confidence!

Suddenly: COOL CONTACT

It’s been COOL CONTACT realizing the powers that come with living in Minnesota. Suddenly, worlds are emerging and the waters are calming. Lately, I’ve been reminded by sound and kept by activity. SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED! I’m seeing at this point, stars and moving constellations.

 

Some efforts are paisley while others are at the gaze of suspense. I’m looking right into the future. It’s exciting, because of familiar faces.
She’s returned and with a host of divinity. It’s a bright sense of realization. Almost, like feet meeting sand again. It’s rich. A deep sense of multitude.

Music has always been a force in my life, but what pulls me the most about it, living here – is that I hear it more accurately. It seems to be more precise. More approximate. It’s literally in the veins of this city. I’ve stumbled on sudden contact in such great ways.

I am learning to process, and damn. It’s so exciting. Things become clear and strings are being responded with joy.

 

I can start several places, but I’m all the instruments playing at one time. Pianos, guitars, bongos, horns, and voices.

 

What can I say? I’m Jamming!
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Native Rapture Via X

For when I ascended into the Native Rapture, my mind and frame began to pose a description. Every now and then, she comes again, and the lessons you never forget. You become a Designated Fool as Sananda Maitreya put it.

There she goes speculating on someone
For her private school
There he is her next sugar daddy-o
Her designated fool
She’s a teacher of unbelievable skill
I once loved her and now I paying the bill

Right about now she’s regulating on someone
With her juicy groove
If papa comes quick
She’ll slow ’em down and teach ’em a textbook trick
Some advanced curriculum

She’s a master
At stimulating her class
I once loved her
I graduated too fast

Fool, because with her ALL her knowledge will likely terminate your missionary trip. That can’t be a bad thing, can it?

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From the tropical edge, and by the Native pledge – her colors are the foundation of life.

She comes to capture and with strong memories you’ve already ascended into her rapture.

Beyond the stars and passing around the crescent moon; here she has come not a moment too soon.

She reminds you of your vulnerable scales; like the time you thought dolphins were whales.

She always made you remember; science was the only everlasting December.

Her face was shades of colorful ambition; apertures and contrasts of tuition.

What a price you had to pay; for, with your concentrated stare, you have stepped into the gray.

Your mission has become the predator and the prey. 

To know you – means she must consume you, but only by her native woo.

Ambient Sells

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I had a vision of a day like this only about 3 months ago, a surreal experience alien to my most memorable paralysis. I had just gotten a vehicle and while joyful, I became vexed with worry. “What IF I lose my keys!? What IF someone steals my car” As anything in this material world often allows, possession began to take a toll on me. I started to undress rapidly, the concern for my most prized possession. I soon became suddenly wrapped with a CELL, which seemed to sell me into worthy. O, the cost to sail away by the boat of anxiety.

“I am late for work! Yet, I am very tired! I should get ready to go. The skies are ambient, colors of purple and yellow within a serenade of primitive desire. If only, I could capture the Wisdom of the sky. As I turn on the ignition, I get caught up in the vastness of my sleep. I realize I can’t drive in this state, so I intend on parking my car. However I am laden heavy with exhaustion, so I am going to park it just anywhere. I have to get out! I return to my room, as I lay down to respond to the beckoning exhaust; I awaken suddenly! I am then told; as I prepare to walk outside. “You’re in a cell; don’t sell out when you turn the knob.” As I turn the knob, I notice I am in a jail cell and SUDDENLY SCREAM AND SHOUT, Then I faint to my knees! How could this be true? I suddenly hear a woman’s voice frantically calling my name! ” Jesse!! Jesse!! ” I begin to pray within myself as my hope begins to build upon the next. I feel a rush of sudden relief as the spirit assures me of the great Calm! I awaken again from the state of shock. I walk outside to look for my vehicle, I can’t find it, so I return back to sleep. What becomes of these colors in the sky, is the acceleration of destination.”

Somehow, these events happen but only in a dream-like state. I remember actually believing them to only realize I was caught in Sleep Paralysis.

I remember actually believing them to only realize I was caught in Sleep Paralysis.

Today, I actually became a victim of a collision, caused by a squirrel in the road, which blinded for a moment my friend who ran into the back of my car. I immediately became worried and checked if she was OK and she was although her car was pretty much destroyed, while mine was intact.

Cells lock up inside and the fears we have are often coded and disguised. We must not allow them to SELL themselves to us. The ambient colors often shattering reminders of color. Colors meant to be exhibited!

Moon Rush

 I thought I was able to make a video from this piece I entitled “Moon Rush” but words fail to describe this, within the length of explanation. Expressions seem to emotionalize through visuals, but this night, it is meant to be read and understood. I am drawn to the consciousness of what is in the night, as creation and expressions shine so bright!

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Acknowledging the sleepless nite! O, how I remember thee!

You come and beg of me a journey of endless lines.

So here I am – flipping through the pages and my gratitude is revealed by looking at you!

O, humble night; I have been slain through the unending symmetry. 

Morning is here, by the rush of the moon.

No one truly studied the glow in the night – the sacred light that beams through the sky.

Looking in the daylight sky, she is hidden by the covering of the day and passing clouds.

Stars as meek and shy to the galaxies unknown reveal their great posture and fire.

Hollow is the night, which invites the carnal eyes who visit the nightmares of darkness. 

As if you were on fire from within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin!

Peculiar passions of haunting depictions which write on the stars!

Cloned Octupuses

I remember writing this a while back and it continues to be relevant to my life even more now. Not to say, I am a famous person by any measure, but I am STILL very social. I talk to a lot of people through the social mediums given to me but it can be extremely overwhelming.

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I love to share but I only have so many hands/scissors at one time. 😀 I look above, below, and to the side of me and there is still someone. Someone is still calling out my name. I feel like sometimes I’m in a rush to respond to everyone at the same time BUT I have to remember, to take it easy. I only have 10 fingers, and only 5 of them (Interchangeably) are used on the keyboard (Not considering my thumbs when I text message). I only have so much, and it’s always an expedition when I journey through the seas of social media. Every morning, I wake up to

Every morning, I wake up to a multitude of messages and I respond within the honor of the day. No complaints, because I am actually establishing ties and I feel very close to the entwined purpose of everyone. Sometimes though it’s like my fingers are like an octopus.

I developed a theory, called ‘Cloned Octopuses’.

An octopus is an intelligent being and it helps that, they have so many ligaments to accomplish a work!  Now, what if they were cloned? I would have so many arms to accomplish the work given to me. If you didn’t know, an octopus is very good at hiding as they mimic landscapes, as a defense mechanism.

I’m not saying, that I don’t like responding, to anyone, this just helps me explain the nature of my communication.  They are one of the most mysterious sea creatures, and I find them very fascinating!

Here is the poem, addressing what great power it would be to visualize this concept in motion.

The ligaments of connected joints are in common expression of what has been made.
A series of likeliness has developed the unique order of engraved creation.
I hear the charges of infuriated response calling out into the echoed cave.
They want an answer to scream into their thirst, of a thousand replies.
I’ve generated another copy which somehow plots the standard of a fantasy and yet the stone is entrusted into my building.
Then, there is the stoned reflection of my countenance,  which I can no longer determine is my true mirror.
I’ve given myself into the consumption of physical duty, and the shadows of myself are becoming many.
I repeat the recited prayers to exercise within divinity, as I return to a consummation of infinity.  
The registers of my symmetry are plagued by the waters.
Deeply intelligently by the skills of my distinguished nervousness.
I am slow to reply or is my reflection the result of complicated movements?
I can’t live long as my eggs are broken after birth, and my spawning leaves a lot to be desired.
I hide within the camouflage of mimicry.
I seek to prey through the lens of a changed color, to fit the mold which will give me a sense of awareness.
I am not able to be kept secure, as I am able to solve through because of my destined mobility.

“Consciousness…”

 

“Consciousness expresses itself through creation. This world we live in is the dance of the creator. Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on. On many an occasion when I’m dancing, I’ve felt touched by something sacred. In those moments, I’ve felt my spirit soar and become one with everything that exists. I become the stars and the moon. I become the lover and the beloved. I become the victor and the vanquished. I become the master and the slave. I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known. I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. The creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy. I keep on dancing and dancing… and dancing, until there is only… the dance.”

– Michael Jackson

 

Sensual Orbits

My touch is like a multitude of mountains reaching the glories of heaven.

My words still cease on the street of doubt and inner tribulations.

Like Venus, my rotation is clockwise and I walk backward as Venus to the truth, I’ve always understood.

The peril of heartbreak spoke gently to my fragile soul.

This time, it’s as if the sensual orbits embrace the causes of desire.

You long for me to touch and yield fire to your yearning body.

Even in the thrust of my answer, your mind is deluded to my attire.

As you feel the passion inside of you like thunder, you’re still flashing as lightning first.

I am looking directly into the light and there is a cause to readjust or else I’ll be blind.

What’s more than the sensuality of our orbits designating a strict path of interest?

My prayers are reconciled with the galaxies of knowledgeable monumental pieces of data.

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These orbits are sensual indeed as a conversation with a ghost dive at a charm I’m familiar with. Conversation invokes a detailed comfort which courts right at the kiss of lustful memory. I’m feeling the throbbing member which feels a reminiscent courtesy that is allowed because of a distant creation. The universe knows what great length creation took place, as we only struggle to make meaning in and out of its enormity.