EMBEDDED INDIGO

captions included 🙂

in bed, within the inn – i then go,
soft peddles of a perfumed floral ring
‘a rose’ in me : the call of a bee sting.
entwined in clusters of blue and carpenter’s wood
remains flames of extravagance, shouldering between transgression and what’s expected to be good
at the cocktail’s hour, happy itself – extends into the pour of a whisky sour!

within this writing – i’m inciting : levels of tiny pebbles !
stuck inside the shoe, solving this dilemma is merely paying attention to the clue!
the case of this face is myriad but fallen short of obscene …
when the sense became non – i become a breathless yawn.
quivering into the distant soft tissue, as my tears are signatures of issues.

ranging from emotional neglect and tortured trauma!
but confessions of repentance have been absolved through the teachings of the Dalai Lama! (((it should be noted : the dalai lama and 🧿 DO NOT IDEOLOGICALLY ALIGN, as They’ve worked with the 👀ℹ️🅰️, so….👎🏿 ! i only used their mention due to the rhyme provided on the spare dime in time.)))

i’m kept close by the face of an perplexing ace!
while going through this crisis of
energy – is not at all unexpected …

yet: it does appear suspected

as so much can be said…………..
instead
i’ll pause where my whispers swallow
the voice inside, is a guide to which i follow

the fiction of the white
just might: speak way too soon…..
months of turning pages to the crescent & whole moon

still
awaiting colors, glisten serene
and while the contradictions long to be seen….
dialectically & eclectically : to those that suggest otherwise,
by the sight of their reading eyes? lines indeed, align and surprise!

while : in bed, within the inn – i then know, embedded indigo!

I originally conceptualized the title “embedded indigo” after gathering all of my close friends at Benihana’s in Chanhassen Minnesota! I remember I worked at Mall of America at the time, and TrevorGuy called me around the time, I was leaving work. “Prince is having a music video dress rehearsal for Judith Hill with Eric Leeds, tonight at Paisley Park and you’re invited to bring in a couple of folks. Details forthcoming. Are you down?” “Absolutely, I’ll let my folks know!” I was absolutely ecstatic about going to Paisley Park and to add to that : A music video with two of my favorite musical artists!? I told the ‘True Blues’ (y’all know who you are!) AND we were all excited to be there!

For added context: I had only been to Minnesota 3 months at this point and things were already picking up, as only 2 days ago from this point I got 3 messages that a private party : was happening at Paisley Park and me and my friends had been invited to Paisley! If y’all want a run down of what happened you can watch that here! https://youtu.be/zSQWWAwRWgg

BACK TO BENIHANA’S! So we are all there awaiting what’s the scoop! everybody’s asking me, what’s about to happen!? Obviously I would know right? Well no. Prince never gave any information about what was about to happen, he just told you to prepare and that I did. It was at least 21 of us and none of us did not know what would happen. We were all sharing Prince stories and all guessing all what could go down. Clearly, we were all decked in our finest of clothes. I do remember having blue on at the time.

Suddenly : I get a call from TrevorGuy. 

ALL eyes are suddenly on me as my ringer is on and I knew it was the call, we’d all be waiting for. I briskly brushed off into a quiet space, leaving them all in lingering anticipation.

I get back to the phone and hear :

“hey, sorry. Prince is not going to do it tonight. some things came up. sorry, will be in contact soon. peace.”

ALL I felt inside was blue. A deep blue. So deeply on me it felt like a deep url code. not just any kind of blue but a mood indigo like Duke Ellington spoke about. It wasn’t necessarily sadness though, just like someone dipped in a ocean of reflection. How was I going to tell everybody it wasn’t happening!? I remember thinking about dreading the walk of shame back to everyone awaiting what would be the next move.

Soon as i came back to the fold, my head shaking in every direction : everyone knew and we all laughed it off. in fact the rest of the night was spent with many other folks who had been to Paisley throughout the years when this was a common occurrence!

“Oh you mean, driving out in the middle of nowhere before there was ‘modern construction’ because you were told there was a paisley park party at -35 degrees and when he leaves you outside for like 3 hours and then decides at the last minute, nah.” Hahaha

Prince. His way about things were not linear. All throughout the night, I can’t say I was really feeling blue as in sad tho. I was very much energized throughout the laughter that ensued & with good eating though we were not a part of the experience. In many ways this is how I feel about Prince and the anniversaries of his ‘transcendence.’ Which is today. There is no real sadness only memories of joy when listening to the “flames of extravagance” that is Prince. 

In many ways it all feels like a parallel vortex when this time comes around, a familiar whisper in the shadows. Whispering deeply, but a jovial memorial indigo.

rEfRiGeRaToR: iNvEsTaGaToR

a mansion of complaints were stapled to my HeAdBoArD.
i tried to understand it all, but i was fLoOrEd!
thus:
i opened up my ReFriGeRaToR,
only to be harassed by an iNvEsTaGaToR
it started with the avocado
then onto the exposed chicken bReAsT!
soon the yogurt, onions and the ReSt!
the bacteria came again to sTiNg : only this time with a stinky zInG.
at once i was interrogated why i left open the edges around the sEaL!

“you promised last time, you wouldn’t allow my fate to be set to pEeL!” screamed the pepper-jack cHeEsE:
in protest of the sudden sQuEeZe around its GiRd.
the sauerkraut was soon to utter a WoRd // until i completely regarded any of their complaints as AbSuRd!
here’s to now starting oVeR – no longer shall i remain victim to an unlucky four leaf cLoVeR!
ALL of you shall become a freshly made CoMpOsT RoAsT, so
that at least this way,
the soil will favor no longer your spoiled body, but your mineral GhOst!

seeking…(Like A Lake)

the things i wished to do, i no longer care for
the places i wanted to travel, i can’t see as reasonable any more
is it because the covid numbers are spiking up?
or the doors which refuse me by slamming shut?

i wanna cry but don’t know why
i’m blanked in space
trying to rectify my face
i’m feeling numb, sad, and displaced
feeling alone in a ‘home’ that does not belong to me
wishing to paint with lens carefully and responsibly

while, cutting off those thrills which made it easy on my heart
i rather now be torn apart
by the very thing that’s eating me inside
it’s unnamed, unable to be framed, and thrives by the constant rain
that is to say : my crying tears are attempting to unmask my fears

although: stuck in a rut of staggering associations
befuddled by contradictory operations
seeking for a friend, but instead suddenly briefed by an online stranger that this too will soon end

without a sight to see what’s really wrong
or a voice to sing in harmonic song
having the very least, while the beast inside still demands a feast!
consuming everything at the dinner table
so that the unbelievable can be told as a fable

“did you see them eating all that cake? filling their stomach like algae would a lake! they probably wouldn’t feel that way – if they were the ones who had to make, all of which would soon be left to take!”

but: it’s a lot different when you’re behind an emotional wheel seeking to safely heal
& when the transportation to feel is left to squeal

if grief had a thief, would it take like a lake? or would it restore in its proper place : salty to fresh waters which trace back to grace?

STRUCTURED LAWN

are you in need of an algorithmic foundation?
one that is far away from frustration?
if by tending to your garden, weeds sprout
from the forgotten edges, to the root stained grout…
how will you be able to frame the name for an achievable aim?

(discipline and process) is in need of a [protected] structure to stay alive – to guard against the ticks on the dog, passing by – which were deprived from on high
as seeds were picked by the birds in the sky, they dropping mites, worms and fleas
& with a sudden breeze, for a moment: activity stops with a sneeze.

thus, recognition is in need of a lay down.
a written recollection providing memory and context to what can be found.
When the sense became NON (nonsense) : this propelled the LAWN to yield green pastures at dawn, otherwise reaction or revolution – will push the glass to fall…
the answer to that call : is one that writes lines while connecting grapes to vine.

og art piece in the middle (originally conceptualized in 2015) it took 7 years to finalize!

time through rhyme *ELEMENTS OF MATERIAL : ARISE!* despite the size,
the measured bowl of calculating expense – makes you wash and rinse
as it’s all coming through: due to many silent hills (which may thrill) 
BUT UPON INSPECTION OF THIS RIDDLED CIRCUMSTANCE?
HA!~ WHY NOT BE ABOUT THAT DANCE!
with the slick bounce of the beat, get caught dancing in the grocery store and then off to the street!

for when the groove makes its way to the belly way below: a deep BLUE beyond
makes the rain obtain favors that seek to know:
where’s the drip coming from?
whether the ceiling is cracked (with mold) or the floor is a bacteria cafeteria…(a slimy situation irrespective of how old)
the hysteria acts like bliss: if you’re so willing to kiss the hiss found when you dismiss!

sentiment aside: I rather abide _ in a motion that is fast and slow_ so that I can glow!
I’ve been chased by the darkness night
trying to fight by the guiding of a righteous light
it’s right by the signature of one’s might!
that is to say: according to their will!
by not laying still…
but moving onward and forward: carrying a candle with our dessert sandals! cuz’ it’s all too hot to handle!’

When the nonsense became clear: this excited the lawn to yield green pastures to revere…
by scheduling ahead we avoid conflict to appear, writing onto calendar script, alarming the appointment as to not be overbooked or whipped!

if you ain’t looking to be flipped 🖕🏾: structure your lawn to a dial, which honors your period beyond the trial. This will make the planting and growing cycle worth your while.

2:TwOtOToO

it is
cuz’ it has been
and will be
just as it must return

like a boomerang burned
with dragon teeth fangs,
it’ll cut with fire
like an electrified barbed wire

slicing your attire
exposing your repentance of skin and flame…
in aim to frame, what exactly is that ‘AFRICAN’ name?

“I’m on my way back home!”

“really? without me, how did you get a ticket so fast?”

-___-

I mean I’m going back to the house!

Ha, ha,

I swore you were a mouse! 

Except I caught them packaging the cheese, with a request for MORE PLEASE! a little like a tease, but with a swift breeze, I hereby grant you the keys :::

to return back to the zone whereby you are closer to home in spirit and mind.

don’t go blind to the sound, extend in reach of the palindrome : (remembering not just from the dome) but also the written word.

it needn’t be absurd!

2 two too to : is also on a two’sday!

Pussy Pavillion

*A POEM DEDICATED TO ALL THE KITTENS, CATS, AND MEMBERS BELONGING TO THE FELINE PERSUASION (TIGERS, LEOPARDS, SPHINX, ETC) EVER HAD A CAT CHECK YOU OUT FOR A WHILE FROM A COMFORTABLE DISTANCE, UNTIL THEY FOUND IT NECESSARY TO SIT IN FASHION AS A LOAF ONTO YOU? eXaCtLy.*

in stealthy gardens, she then parades with shy fluctuation  

compressing down my blossoming appetite, extending my editing time to starvation 

like a kitten, she comes with exciting jubilations, as yarn persuades by rotation & duration  

intending to string me along, as if i could sing in harmony with her song 

bulging expressive eyes, their playfulness surrenders me : to fawning sighs

life ain’t that fair, when kittens are resilient like a stallion to their chosen pavilion

until suddenly, the kitty….while prancing by :

thought enough of me to lay loaf, on my thigh

of course i’m not mad, more like excitedly glad that’ i’ve been honored with their beauty, command, and grace

their kitty cat pussy face, is like a bowl needed to be licked clean, and that they do 

not for me or for you, but because grooming is a necessary act of self-care

they wouldn’t dare, ignore this allure, as their purrs causes all the stirs

all the feels, all of my wills : are to the spirit of the cat! 

yeah, i said all of that! 

i heard somebody say once : “cats don’t have owners, they have staff…”

and you can go ahead and laugh, at the work i’m willing to do on their behalf 

you can consider me the x to their y on the graph 

for this feline strikes with precise skills, revitalizing my company with aww glowing thrills !

pussy pavilion,

pussy pavilion,

like a stallion made resilient to its post, cat’s are too cool at doing the most!

“I am” : u.r.i.s.o.p.c (statement piece)

*this was a poetic piece I created for IGF (Irreducible Grace Foundation) in collaboration with Ms. Jane and Dr. D : they both helped me to reach into that place within me – to convey sincerity and honesty through the power of breathing amidst the search of discovering who I am… this is the poetic piece I wrote out describing who I am. it has typically been difficult for me to name specifics of who I am but now, I am more assured in the discovery of ‘what’s in a name’ that I have no reason to be ashamed. blessings y’all! ❤ *

i am : Arican. who like most of us, were raised on colonized and stolen lands. (If not in location, in mind bands )

Shoutout to the AAPRP!

i come from : radical and religious sentiments! an environment which reinforced to me that my questions : were far too deep! that my interrogations of life’s contradictions were far too steep! The church, the Bible, and the Holy Ghost was our daily bread and butter, because if not in the name of Jesus – every other voice? could stutter!

Weigh The Minute! Typo Or Faith?

when you look at me : you see – brown skin, large buttons, and thick locks of hair – they’re not dreadlocks, that would imply they’re dreadful and they’re not. you will also see, your own confirmation biases, but ULTIMATELY what you see are scattered remnants of survival.

When I look in the mirror : I see a man attempting to advance a better world through struggle and the sharing of joy through creation and revolutionary politics. I see a window at odds with dialectical history // worlds interlocked unfolding, the deeper and reachable mystery.

Uniformy & RaNdOmLy : in Search of Paradise Clarity!

What you don’t see is : a man seeking to heal trauma that has flustered me. My ‘First & longest relationship was with someone who used the language of love but never matched practice with theory. I was 18, freshly graduated from high school : ready to move to another country to escape the command & rule.

I get stressed out : when I neglect to see what has been proven to be within me. when in stress, my will is often a mess out at every express, I soon begin to digress. All of these things and more can be the case, which is why instead i take a pause ______ and breathe, to make space.

I take care of myself by: breathing within and remembering the various tools i have for access. Just as sewing and writing pens are tools of connection : so is breathing. i like to breathe using the 4 for 4 method.

4 4 4

Take 4 seconds to INHALE (through your nose)
HOLD your inhale at the top for 4 seconds
Take 4 seconds to EXHALE (through your mouth)

*4 counts in between each breathe !*

when you take deep breath it activates the vagus nerve – sending a message to yo brain that you are calm..

we win when we breathe from within. There is no end, only the will to perpetually transcend! whether your at 0 or 10 – i recommend, you find that space and begin.

::: “i say this to you, so that you know that : ACCESS is from within, when placed in an uneasy or stressful situation, remember that you have the tools and can get to that place of healing and rest.”

i often use this tool when i am stressed about something i can’t easily each or obtain. this technique is often used in combat – to calm the fighter before and after a situation. May you find it useful in any stressful situation!

EMIL,P:DEEP LIME

how would one describe to m3_ poetry?

i’d say : : : it’s A LOT!

one filled with many luxury and used vehicles, may one of them get you through.

spice it up and get through the caption – otherwise the meaning is a fatal faction of a thicker extraction. season if you would like to maintain flavor, but please remember to SAVOR!

tactical rectification knocks at my despair
asking me which clothes i wish to wear?

ice sparkles on the frosted apparel / that’s sterile, for water drenching the stenches of my mentions. cleaning up all the empty and forbidden space which longs to occupy foreign taste. the degree to which we belong is congregational song : may we all now sing along?

“ our time and labor is being exploited by the ruling class – this may seem like the only future to come to pass, but that’s all the gas! we can fight against the line which draws us crossed and undermined!.”

they’re not going to show you the revolution! anyone assuming that, hasn’t understood organizing is the solution!

with this, that and the third being said (here’s a few reminders for the mind and head)

thinking is just blinking (from within)

writing is just linking (paper to pen)

reading is feeling (your brain)

comprehending is seeding (exchanging memory lanes)

remembering is retaining (information studied)

patience is primary sources (no longer hurried)

shoutout to the remnants,
of those remaining:
remains,
tags,
pieces,
lint, to be brushed
strings left at lush
the fluff, stuff!
the around and found,
all of the miscellaneous means at gathered ends, shoutout to their memory and sins!
special regards to the : split creases and dinosaur leases!
all of the crumbles and mumbles left at your tables and sold through their fables.
every single etc etc and dot dot line and thing
all the cotton, satin, and polyester fling!
every scribble, chop, plot, and missed out line
: here’s to acknowledging your presence in the blistering winter time!
here’s to your frosted and forgotten remembrance! here’s to your effervescent transcendence!

INTRODUCTION : WAIT A MINUTE! TyPo or FAITH?

This is a story about Typos and hypotheticals. FIRSTLY: As told through the medium of the ‘Don_Key’ as spoken about in Numbers 22:21-38 when Balaam’s faithful friend was stopped in the way due to the Angel of The Lord. SECONDLY: This is a story based on true events but with remixed names and places. THIRDLY: it is also spoken through the political angle, which when in harmony with the angel of awareness, brings about revolutionary awakening and love.

Thus, this story is a 3-level narration. An adventure encouraging the listener to weigh each minute and to ponder on the material reality around us. The witness of the spirit must be in reliance with the science, the contradiction in life is to know the internal things or the things that are within are just are relevant as the tangible things or the things written on our skin.

instead, humanity at large has been jailed into systematic revisionism and applause is given for a lack of critical thinking and reading from primary sources. hijacked is the reason to believe without challenging the dialectical and material reality to the NOUNS around you. everything is alert and making a sound. One can be asleep but there’s surely an alarm!

shoutout to Jagrati and Gramercy!

asleep (jagrati) // alarm (gramercy) these words mean something !

to not hear it and still steadily sleep or much more to DREAM but to not write it down. recognizes many challenges. the record makes true how the spirit speaks through you. waiting and weighing the moments and figuring out which streets lead to destinies not prepared for. immediately and with urgency one is left to FIGURE OUT WHERE THEY ARE GOING. WHY WERE THEY STOPPED. WHEN THE PATTERN CHANGES AND WHEN IT IS FOLLOWING AN ‘END’ Herein We may Begin….

RaDiCaL: Angels & Angels

describe to me : the nature of your circumstance?

would you rather walk or dance?

shall we talk it over, or discuss the matter in silence?

or are you for a government ran by the people, or the system promoting self-reliance?

you know what they say : you can do it on your own!

you ain’t gotta look for home: neither should you ask for help, especially when in need. 

SUCK IT UP, don’t cry, just go untreated until your left to bleed!

flesh left open like a party inviting every kind of friend, family, and stranger, which inevitably attracts danger!

cuz’ all them people were gathered in one space : but if not guided by a common grace or principle, their concern is far more scattered and unorganized.

thus, for the people to arise – democratic centralism must be the measure which assures their size!

may our prayers bear knowledge to the ongoing science and emotional feeling.

this type of prayer is an invitation for higher and neutral healing.

to face the very material struggle found in all living beings.

it’s a matter of principally looking in, from within _ examining those contradictions which nonetheless appear as fiction DRESSED in various dictions.

I needn’t recite every line that comes to mind, however it is irrefutably clear – that their lies a wrestle between two opposing forces here and near.

How we confront and deal with one another requires us to call out the whereabouts of FEAR!

depending on the angel / angle, one may misplace the word intended to get to what’s true!

by each clue – may w3 all get through!

When the scenery becomes the garden greenery which enhances the vibration sensation.

what will fill the gap between the bridge that is passed, how can one gather with all they’ve amassed?

Without risking the loss of what they carried, the options are truly unvaried.

going to the ever-turning passage of spitted approval.

as judgements and skeptical glancing seek replacement and removal.

the romancing of the desired beat is to treat a furnished symphony.

for when the kangaroo wishes to land upon a higher stand, because their hump encourages their jump !

how closely do connections cross and feelings tread?

will this interaction be contained or will it spread?

likewise: fungi and real disguised lies, are perplexed in front of truth-seeking eyes.

may we be truthful to the solution, which soothes us to rely on an idealogical foundation and shape ourselves to the real malleable clay.

this is to no dismay.

for when closer to the tears.

and when the mirror reveals all of those spent years…

the pieces are stolen and hidden, returning concerns back to the vendor.

until the push of splendor revitalized the colors left on cluttered tables and midnight fables – convincing that you return to the feeling that left you kneeling….

even at the throne of mercy – you felt deserving of pain.

while being caught in the pouring rain…

you were then released from the choke holds, of spiked ambitions.

your attention would only become knotted and tangled like a geometric spider web.

by thinking you could reach the ebb without the flow, the truth of knowing the invisible structures which are principalities in high places.

when running faces meet the math belonging to shape and angle, the angel once more appears as a lesson to revere.

you did not see it coming, so you ran away.

into a place no one could say?

until you came right back open and barren – as an empty cup intended to be filled to the brim.

although tightly held with muscle and limb – the hour glass slipped from your hands with all the speckles of sand, the sound was as a thunderous command!

for when it shatters it matters because it reaches across all the hard surfaced floor

one can reach the door while answering the bell, for it swells deep in the midnight and afternoon pale.

a noise awakening one to the division of sound and stillness…

disrupting sleeplessness, which was diagnosed as a formidable illness.

the capitulation belonging to the CAPITALIZATION of interests belonging only to the select few?
recognizes a RaDiCaL REVOLUTION, which informs scientifically, the work that is left for us to do!

THE 7TH ALGORITHM TRAIN 🪡🧮🚂

2 1 4!

2.) = the 2 hole buttons which act as one straight line. (:)


1.) = the invisible shank where there’s a wired loop underneath. (n)

4.) = the 4 hole buttons which can be sewn as (X) or (::) these are most common on dress shirts which often come in 7 buttons going down from top to bottom.


buttons INDEED connect and the ‘gesture’ of button therapy is the
search to bring clarity! if not for buttons on our clothes, we wouldn’t
have a united force which harmonizes the divide.
buttons are blessings, y’all! in the same way, every one of the
blessings in my life have united me to a deeper connection and
understanding.

DEAF MCCOY

they counted it all joy, to set the fire ablaze and destroy!

it mattered very little to their anguished mind : all of the memories now spoiled rotten in time.

‘it’s just a book’ : why would one insist to read it as if they could look? thus, they burned the pages alive – claiming what was left over, was made broken, abused, and unable to thrive…”

the ghost of this feeling?

seeks a remedy of healing!

the spirit of those words cried, after the flame once stole their flesh and the pages dyed…

into a thick smoky black ink….

staining fingers until blemishes could think:

towards the water and richly lathered soap,

attempting to wash away unfettered desires, and forged hope!

what was taken may be placed again!

through a loop, appearing now and then…

by a vision or through the dream portal:

charms enlighten briefly, yet remain mortal.

a sound that went unheard, until the smoke choked the air and their third eye vision became blurred!

paying service to the record which made them nervous : they’ve relinquished all possibilities : although nearly drowning in the deep blue seas, all of the flees couldn’t hurriedly leave their dog. Was it the surface or the smog – which stalled the cog to a destabilizing fog?

this happened to be the case for Deaf McCoy!

they not knowing : the heat could extinguish their joy!

” ‘cuz what about, all of the work that was put in?” as the 3 out of 5 recommend : the enemy and friend – to sit at the table of consumed ends, the start of which may transcend, with a flamed wire which only until now has to expire!

🔥🔥🔥to all the pages and names which were written in search of the answer. they found the dancer, grooving within the melodies of a boiling heat! a burning revival – reaching towards the back alleys and crowded street!

i repeat deaf mccoy : they not knowing the heat could extinguish their joy !

PARADISE CLARITY

Paradise Clarity (The Book)

PARADISE CLARITY is the conceptual statement in which poetry and symbolic gestures comes through : to the reader by random and uniform means. It has been divided into 7 Volumes (Years) Starting from ‘Z’ (2020) To A (2013). THIS IS A 460 PAGE JOURNEY! Most of these writings were available online via blog posts, videos, and other forms of multi-media but never given the full moment to be absorbed as a whole. Whether you choose to RaNdOmLy or uniformly flip through the pages : the search to get to transparent destination is open to whichever destination you find most useful! *PRICE INCLUDES WORLDWIDE SHIPPING. PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR SHIPPING ADDRESS OF WHERE YOU WOULD WANT THE BOOK SENT* if you have any questions or concerns : please send an email to paradiseclarity@gmail.com Blessings!

$40.00

P A R A D I S E? CLARITY ! (FORMULATED EXPLANATION)

CARE NOT TO ONLY READ BUT DIVE FURTHER FOR EXPLANATION? WATCH THIS INSTEAD :

20 minutes and 44 seconds, you ain’t gotta watch me. just play! ❤

what is ‘paradise’ if not for the s3arch for transparent understanding!

i’ve randomly been writing poems and symbolic gestures starting back to 2013 – in this collection of writings you’ll be able to s3arch through the many ramblings of my mind! i’ve spoken about everything from : SPIRITUALITY , food, and dREaMs & ThEir WaKiNG LiFe CoNtRaDiCtIoNs!

reading my own words have been a revelatory insight into the reason i began to seek higher understanding. it all began in early 2013 after leaving a relationship that had significantly transformed my ‘Process’ of what understanding looks like.

many o’ times, i thought i KNEW FOR SURE what i was going through. only to soon realize, my eyes missed the lies passed right in front of me. it took being told the same thing by close friends, family, and strangers for me to somehow think i was getting through…

UNTIL : I WAS LOOPED BACK INTO BACK INTO A THE WIRE! a GPS programmed to a circular circumference! here i was // saying – i got it, this time! i didn’t have the proper correlation or the education which comes with learning about love but also LIVING with someone whose narcissism is cloaked onto them, similarly to how a robe can cover a pulsating throb.

i didn’t see what was ahead of me because i didn’t realize : RaNdOmLy…the same begins with a name not belonging to a disposition of shame. IT TOOK 8 YEARS * & some change* for me to GET THROUGH!

i was searching for ‘X’ – the unknown but yet known ; cycles of stained decoration, left me in constant hesitation. refusing to move on, assuming i’d become the same pawn – set adjacent to the queen who would guess that ‘chess’ was better played if it ALL was made into a beautiful & toxic Mess!

PARADISE CLARITY has shown me out of the deepest enclaves – i can reach to understanding through the work without feeling the need to justify every correlation that led me to ‘Y’ = ‘X’ has occupied so much of my figuring out. throughout all the years and tears wherein i feared – ever knowing the peace of being alone. believing that ‘home’ – could be understood distant and way out overseas. now i see it all began with me…

^^^

except it’s not just ‘U’ but the ancestors who have always paved the path! one can easily do the math : they told you that it was a hard to do! that numbers and shapes couldn’t be understood by you! but that’s a damn lie – one can try. to reach a higher place ! where grace is already marinating in space!

THE S3arch is how one may get through! (uniformly or RaNdOmLy)

FINALLY releasing this has also allowed me to MOVE ON AND AWAY – from the pains and gains which left me bound to reason (& seasonal treason) against the truth that deeply remains.

herein my celebration, salvation is retained !

✨🌬🪜🔑🪟🪞🖤🪃🧩🚀⏳⌛️💡🧨🧹🧶🪡🧵

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN PURCHASING :

✨ Currently ONLY Paperback, The Hard Copy Was a Gift to Myself ✨

Paradise Clarity

PARADISE CLARITY is the conceptual statement in which poetry and symbolic gestures comes through : to the reader by random and uniform means. It has been divided into 7 Volumes (Years) Starting from ‘Z’ (2020) To A (2013). THIS IS A 460 PAGE JOURNEY! Most of these writings were available online via blog posts, videos, and other forms of multi-media but never given the full moment to be absorbed as a whole. Whether you choose to RaNdOmLy or uniformly flip through the pages : the search to get to transparent destination is open to whichever destination you find most useful! *PRICE INCLUDES WORLDWIDE SHIPPING. PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR SHIPPING ADDRESS OF WHERE YOU WOULD WANT THE BOOK SENT* if you have any questions or concerns : please send an email to paradiseclarity@gmail.com Blessings!

$40.00

cashapp & venmo: $gesturegreen 

i would like to thank 3v3rybody who has taken the time to read and invest all of the words i’ve spoken within 7 volumes of time. so much has already been said, factors and predictions already laid…all of y’all, everywhere n everything : BL3ssings!!! ✨✨✨

The Hype!

it’s already been talked about! (& not for clout!)
BUT heard of and made stable! (cuz’ the will to come
through has been matched able!)

it’s hot!
but, hell is hotter than this!
it’s a knot – ignorance is touted as bliss!
if not,
for the kiss?
i’d be remiss…
to not add water to the pot!
a flame to burn – a candle to return, and a fire to rehire & fuel the stubborn mule!

it must carry over
via boat , bicycle, or range rover!
as long as the theme is put to focus! or else, hocus pocus?
with regard to the fleeting attention : it would be absolutely paramount of a mention!
for getting through is to also recognize the invisible CLUE!
this is why, the eye continues to spy and the hand signals a command…

the plight of such reverie may send one n2 a deeper sleep in search of hidden treasury
the enclosed notion which has kept me at bay to the ocean, is one that has been built by the dream
indeed : this memory is not what it seems
cuz by the actual suffering of a heat stroke, the gestures of the sun’s brush has alerted me woke!

the sweat dripping down my skin?
is enough to fill an ocean encouraging one to deep dive and swim!
turning our eyes into the waterfall of surprise !

it’s hot!
but, hell is hotter than this!
it’s a knot – ignorance is touted as bliss!
if not,
for the kiss?
i’d be remiss…
to not add water to the pot!
a flame to burn – a candle to return, and a fire to rehire & fuel the stubborn mule!

could this be : THE HYPE?
a measurable sensation found in the swipe?
when the up and down wishes to be found
by a glaring animation – sparks begin to fly over the packed out station!

the readiness of the fashionable affair
was declared imminently urgent, tho curtailed for the washer was out of laundry detergent.
so, instead of being dressed with conceptual and stitched made apparel, it was assumed the instruments should firstly be made sterile

everybody’s supposed to be a certain type?
Ha, according to the hype!
the wizard is forever beholden to their pipe!
said the smoker, who believed the hype!
the hardware was made soft and unable to properly function thus soon inviting the technician to work on this much needed junction!
but while attempting to stripe each light, the day could no sooner find the night.
grapes belonging to the vine deserve to be plucked and eaten when fully ripe!
said the greedy fox who was once more fooled by the hype!

it’s hot!
but, hell is hotter than this!
it’s a knot – ignorance is touted as bliss!
if not,
for the kiss?
i’d be remiss…
to not add water to the pot!
a flame to burn – a candle to return, and a fire to rehire & fuel the stubborn mule!

Storage Ghost

my eyes roll like dice, scattering probabilities spiced!
the cost of a gamble?
is scratching my head as i ramble !

whatever to the never,
‘cuz it’s not like IT intended on ever really coming through ( at least, FOR YOU)

their languished, weary confusion, was then
re-billed to my mirrored delusion!
i can either pay it, or let it go, overdraft?
after which, the picture and frame would both laugh !

‘cuz what a scene that would be, ha –
to portray : my dismay, on the table of their concern?
i much rather burn!!!
until i’m left crusted from the flickering flame...041421 SG

fire, plants, art decor
peeling away at this smoke and ash –
forgiveness is requesting to come to pass,
but i’m too stubborn to ever remember,
that my preference for Spring is not tantamount to your December!

so i choose to remove myself like a fly, chilling against the wall.

but if you were close to my ear, i wouldn’t dismiss your call.
neither, would i smash at the annoyance of your disposition.
irrespective of how preciously, you may regard that ‘position’.

i shutter to believe : we could shoulder next to the grudge
‘cuz it wouldn’t be long until we succumb to the nudge
but,
by storing my memories to your ghost? i’ve relinquished our odds to the abyss and uttermost!

MUSIC LOTION

i acknowledged early, the notion – that music is lotion :

i spent my days silently arid in the desert sun, frustrated that i was found a stranger to all of the fun.

while quiet- i yet, remained open to the crevices wherein contained : drums, keys, and strings.

some cared to call me out and stroke me by the hips, which loosen my lips…

for much can be said about musical expressions and I dream in that sense, it’s quite INTENSE..

this rhythmic pervasion is so instinctive that it calls to those longing to hear.

kept close nearby – ostensibly : this lotion is TOP TIER!

040721 ML
“i saturated early to the notion, that music is lotion..”

stabilizing the landscape of our pores, ensuring the calloused and ash may meet their benediction with harmonic doors !

i think we all can hear the ascending and descending notes, as they caress (with finesse) on our outer skin.

we’re no longer deaf to the sound ; our hands motioning in every direction – we are covered and bound.

music is the danced promise to obtain.

especially, when dissolved on our skin, muscle, & vein.

anyways: THE GREAT BIG ESCAPE

looking to find all of the buttons scattered within my mind…

(some reside in the odd corner of 3 n’ 9)

the rest are vacant by 2 n’ 6 with open even tricks

033121 ATGBE
annnnyyyywayyyssss

anyways….

as many suspicions rely on a freaky obscenity 

shoulders are then encouraged to shuffle with amenity

shrugging against the monster which urged them to undress

a fear which quickly transformed their compress

anyways…

now the steam is reasonably provoked & mean

cuz the command was found boiling hot

strings then, wired and tied into a frustratingly difficult knot!

ANYWAYS, this is : THE GREAT BIG ESCAPE! also known as tHe gRaPe & DiP sHaPe, but more clearly understood to be as when one’s gate is rigged against, its fate!

A dREam DeFeRrEd

while sleepwalking the dream deferred
I was then sewn up, folded down, as my voice went unheard
my spirit yet sought to eat the written word
as my midnight repentance’s slurred…

to underline the meaning of the said pitch
jars of stones, drawers of spells, are requesting a stitch
placement – where could the key abide?
if not in a enclosed location – where memories are kept far and wide!

meanwhile the coattail
of their foundation proved genuinely steady
but the camisole was see through,
collapsing my bashfulness, surrendering me ready…

as wavy fiction produces depictions of various inflictions
many of which attempt to make clear sense 
or else the pot is in need of a rinse
for the container can only contain so much, before spilling over
it’s been said : reality is a four dimensional clover.

so
i’ve come to the same
conclusion. 
a route destined to a recurring confusion.
like a cul-de-sac – the ‘whereabouts’ ain’t amounting to jack!

032821 ADD

i’ve test drove many herbs & clusters:
for it provided a pleasure i dreamed to be the case. 
flowers rooted in the soil but soon destined to be inside of a vase. 

the memory of life wishes to revive. 
but in between my closing eyes, this departure must contrive. 
to a place I’ve known? i’m kept grown!

when the aura comes around once more – what then, is left to be obtained? besides allergies from the flowers which have left me pained!
maybe some visualizations are better seen within the dream? 
it need not be for real, otherwise my hesitations will scream!

upon the alarm, my trepidation returns deferred
sleeping and waking life diffusing my fears into me like a songbird

but i missed the motion sought to keep me dancing
instead my spelling was silenced to restless nights romancing
sliced by the cut : as to excite the allure of the jiggly phat, what?

“ease on out of that pie!”
or else you‘ll DYE : teeth darker than mud – ruining those pearly whites for a musty crud!
wouldn’t that be a shame?
ha, i can explain! :::

as forces are sent to convict the mind of the infidel because they dared to call out the BULL, which would have otherwise continued stubbornly stool.
buried underneath, allowing advantages to be traced! some have already gone to waste, others? are lurking by at an inquisitive pace!

thus, this dREaM DeFeRrEd requires a writing down of every emotion stirred
to embrace : the flower & vase

before it goes away into withering decay. knowing that this transfer must occur, despite the lines which will inevitably blur!
….

as you were, The Game is Over for my Coeur…   blessings and light to Yael Naim & David Donatien for all of their timeless offerings. this one goes all the way ❤

a vow of sigh-inced’ waves

current waves are alike to the days, which came before
counting backward and ahead – left to bore :

years,
months,
weeks, 
days ,
minutes,
hours,
seconds,

all moving towards  ‘seven
but
missing the goal post of ‘ heaven ‘030721 AVOSIW

Ummm, Eh, …

what must one do, when realizing they have not gotten through? when the CLUELESS BLUE** wanders between they and you. how can one glue the pieces torn a part , if they can no longer chart : on a scale in which magenta and cyan could vow to SIGH AND

repeat a promise of : SILENCED WAVES….
RUPTURED through the crushing DAYS
STILL capable to amaze if not trapped by a cyclical HAZE

Vowing to a silent PHASE
as current waves are like the days that came before
counting ahead and backward – left to bore

seconds,
hours,
minutes,
days,
weeks,
months,
years,

all missing towardsseven
but
moving the goal post to ‘heaven’ 

a vow of sCiEnCe
wherein data stands in
AlLiaNcE
with the truth of what can be made more
CLEAR
so that the ‘
sigh‘ may revere *as opposed to FEAR*
YA HeAr?

EvErYwHeRe n’ EvErYtHiNg

this writing has scheduled me captive
a release of this feeling, caging me adaptive :
to all of the colors of misery left to display.
(you can expect nursery rhymes, idioms, and fantasy – hooray!)
these tones and fixtures dressing my shadows are compromised by a flaunting spark.
it flickers like a flame 
but the accountancy checks, marks?
are signed by a fraudulent name!
to what end does this despair carry?
unspoken abbreviations which can no longer tarry…
the marriage of the dichotomy between liquid and gas
prompts offspring of the physical and spiritual heir to come to past.

 

everywhere, n’ everything started to sing
people, places, n’ ideas, signaled a RING!
a chance to be answered by sweaty and out of breath dancers – fancying the occasion, to respond to this decadent persuasion. in which all NOUNS had to recite their lines, up beat, crushed, & entwined !

but,
instead of facing the consequences truly,
their cowardice became unruly.
outside of the inside and around the down and found – traveling at a speed where their nebula can reach before the flashlight could click. 
right before, my feet met slick
like an x – rated flick
now there’s a drip
providing a spiral confession
wherein this tale reads as my succession
everybody readily ‘revels’ at the bounce.
a party filled with jello and colorful hellos.
it would be seen as circumstantial- to not undress and dismantle.
so here’s to the cutting – right to the chase – windows perplexed and mirrors gone to waste. 
a price of vanity, is an impending transaction.
these muscular trophies, have been attained through repetitive tension.
filled with cyclical-calendar-commitments-reimbursing-the-worked out-pension.
here are a few, (commitments) which make due :
turtles n’ gloves.
rubrics n; doves. 
magic and mind.
candy at influx with rhyme. 
calories and added fat. mistakes and cute cats. soothing the reminder of yesteryear, reminding very clear as to what it means to be free.
a collective university
wherein the masses accompany 
– in struggle and in harmony!

for..

many are displaced.
figuring out what caused their mind to go ace. stricken from the eyespassionate lullabies.
tread with light feet.
colorful slides? mesmerized!
roasted junctions in heat as the sun turns to direction of the west
a light recurs to test!
a bedazzling agent provocateur,
inviting lace scented webs stringed to allure.

shall i continue or go on?
back when, n’ again…

everywhere, n’ everything started to sing
people, places, n’ ideas, signaled a THING!

singing tunes of the clown and a smile that became a frown!
not all answers went down.
some went around.
others came to only fly.
i could try.
but i can’t explain the withering refrain

for..

the pedigree of my registry
left me aligned with a succulent pleasantry 
i’m hungry cuz my motions have been left starved
as structures became carved
medicine was then pulverized
to escape the large n’ embodied surprise 
cuz that pill? was built ill!

everywhere, n’ everything started to sing
people, places, n’ ideas, signaled a RING!

HISTORICAL FACT*

it is a historical fact! that the story has been played like an act !
there’s indeed a synopsis and sequel  …
but the characters and setting are not equal !

troubled is the fragrance that left me stained
reminded, tossed, inactive remains? spiked n’ chained !
i wish to train the cross left for me to bear
the markers are legislated : docile and unfair

it is a historical fact! that the lines are studied, written, & tracked!
there’s indeed a subject and plot …
but the producer failed at hiring the director’s slot !

whose forrest is being destroyed and whose lawn is in need of finely cut grass?
besides the mercenaries who only seek to exploit the working class?
BUT we’re kicking the glass so that it may fall
for this sound is a recall
that the shattering deposition of restricting forces may withstand even within an arid and calloused land/hand

it is a historical fact! that the story has been cracked!
there’s indeed hammers, screws, and drills ….
but the complex is yet incomplete, exempt from all the thrills!

we’re pumped y’all! ! 
cuz we’ve already been captured by a blood sucking thief
thus, certainly there’s no peace of mind or bodily relief
when in war – one can not simply refuse the score
only until the pedals and bullets are scattered on the floor
will the meaning of such sacrifice bum-rush the door

it is a historical fact! that the story has been stacked!
one coming in after the other, now the room is packed!
there’s indeed a selling point and central theme
one in which may create a distraction or a humorous meme ….

ScRiBbLe dRriBbLe…

turn on the lights!
escaping my window frame is a horizontal gaze,
extending itself onto a perpendicular praise.
the numbers outweigh
the substance and sway.
tho ‘the dough’ is rolling on by cylinder finesse.
by wood crafting, but the ghost of sawdust is no mans fool.
this tool,
is blunt with dull edges, yet it does chop.
from bharal to
bunny hop –
distance merely invites a motion or silent still
both of which can move a mountainous hill
further above, beyond and predictably ahead….
inquiring neighbors lounge, the graveyard of the dead.
though, the sprinkler system alarms the yawn to spawn a reactive measure,
set adjacent to the milk, honey, & pleasure
it is by outdated refrain,
i have foreseen the capable and much needed dream.
by neon surprise, this sleep has counted my weary and western eyes – however, the food has expired where there are now fruit flies.
sweet and stingy cuz i’ve survived the reaction which reckons with pickup and sorted decay. awakening my languid latitudes by drifting with the longitudes which have left me fed as prey.
yes, my hostage is hostile and unkept
by stratified emotions in which Jesus Wept.

020821 SD

aLl Of My ScRiBbLeS???

dRriBbLe !!!!
through the language of many sounds.
echoes and whispers which arouse my ears with devotional candles and incense.
assuring a moving dissipation to condense.
i’m drawn with a holy supplication – errors now joined with practiced theory.
So what if : the marks of progress are torn by eternal struggle and engulfed dreary?
the ancestors have empowered me to soften my hands to their stone – the vow is kept and made home,
despite imperialist forces set to cast us alone.
the work continues to service my spirit ready for war. hands and feet, thickly covered with blood and tar. safeguarded by tactical drones and made stable by a dichotomized satellite
we shall soon gain our second sight !
bringing the masses closer to liberty and peace
the awakening bells provide a feast
wherein all fears and inhibitions can surcease !

PERSONALLY, O B V I O U S L Y

have you ever heard the story of the PERSONALLY’s? OBVIOUSLY, they belonged to a PERSON who did not POSSESS their belongings UnLeSs – stored inside of their purse!

some regarded the chapters WoRThLeSs as their VeRSeS were viewed as stringent cUrSes…nonetheless it did not fancy the PERSONALLY’s much at all. for OBVIOUSLY they were rarely, if ever oFfEnDeD – for their lives were only aTtEnDED – by what laid inside of their PuRsE. miscellaneous objects which would often quench the ThRiSt – of anyone suddenly in ‘NeEd‘ one could OBVIOUSLY always find a prediction worthy of sTeEd, with the PERSONALLY’s.

for PERSONALLY it would seem OBVIOUS – that the oblivion which guided their FaCeS – were blessings extended by insightful GrAcEs – a searching hand inside of their pUrSe! could they be looking for a nUrSe? or a rhyme with signature FlAvOr? one that others could not contest but sAvOr! notwithstanding, the PERSONALLY’s OBVIOUSLY made their purses cLuTcH – preferring to go dUtCh instead of paying one BilL. (*this indeed gave them time to KiLl)112820 PO

Pursesonally? Obviously!
it was not that the PERSONALLY’s were so OBVIOUSLY ChEaP! but they could not afford to lEaP – too far of a distance worthy that could KeEp – their essentials next to them at all TiMeS! if their arms could not reach inside of their purse // they felt they’d be certainly committing cRiMeS! the PERSONALLY’s held many animations to DiSpLaYOBVIOUSLY the privacy of such collection did not always rElaY.

folks still trying to figure out what exactly was contained in the PERSONALLY’s PURSE? well, OBVIOUSLY: that’s PERSONAL.

p.s

this is also dedicated to Moon Child, she and eye are often ALWAYS PERSONALLY or OBVIOUSLY something : D

R I G G E D CIRCLE

the dice? LOADED! the formula? CODED!

the GPS has been glitched – unable to be stitched cuz there’s no Urkel to solve the circle!

I guess you can say that STEVE wanted to LEAVE…

Jester.Model

UrKeL WhO?!?!?!?

but could KNOT because the circle was programmed, all along – to be wrong.

the DonKEY spoke through numbers – now the Kong must prolong – the intended congregational song :

the cIrCle HAS BEEN rigged!

TRIGGED BY THE FINGER THAT FLICKED OFF THE NOTION TO HOLDING THE GUN!

now we all can’t help but repeat and run – around the circumference locked in a LOOP.

our basket balls must attempt to SHOOT – but it is necessary for them to lAnD!

otherwise – an alien and encrypted HaND may select the defense, bypassing the aim to fRaMe!

102820 RC

360 is the nAmE : of the rootless caricature, known as repetitive and outdated ReTuRnS!

Sickening all of the avenues, streets, and boulevards as our wheels run a fever featuring 4th degree bUrNs!

by – hook and crook the sir as it were – came but as to come – for again programmed, hEnCe – the circumference was no less DeNsE.

one can wash and lather but must also RiNsE 
like a LOAD inside of the washing machine 

it went over & over

& on and on

& again & again
as
when, wind wishes to suspend, but can only flow and ascend

it’s been told now and way back then : the system is all a RIG! 

didn’t the shovel hear the message from the shoulder which jolted and screamed : DIG!

but like a zag – it must also ZIG!

so what is the recurring case of this circular FIG?

with no redeemable function and incongruously sunken loose ShApEs…

the vines that remain : produce neither streamline or fine wine, but those of spoiled gRaPeS???

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

092820 QH
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.

juice n’ serenade

my, my, my & mercy me : the wind has blown through the branches of her sugar maple tree!

her fruit asking for a squeeze honoring my appetite with many more sonnets to please.

that’s my honey & ohh how she drips leaving sticky notes fastened to her perfumed flavored hips.

she got the juice! n’ i? the serenade! the kind of cut that spreads marmalade, on a switch blade.

a cut not too kind but one that resembles a portrait in your mind.

a picture contesting to be wrapped by fruits glow one that does not concentrate for too long or pretend to know.

091420 JNS

instead, the wish of this blossom cherry berry, is to be held by an airy and charmed fairy.

one that is dime sized and incredibly scary.

frightful for even as angels guard & protect they have a head, displaying many frightful faces.

after traveling too many narrow and wide unknown spaces.

these angels demand: that we not rise in fearalthough the writing is on the wall, the pen did not call.

no, instead it flowed through the ink of my tears.

swelling deeply into the vessels of my fears.

these tear drops commanded that we come near:

to hear a word that can be seen and made more clear.

ENDEARED, we are beloved by the moving motions REVERED.

now :

i can’t help but sing and groove, for her juice has moved all my senses – her taste renewing my lenses.

to her, i must – serenade.

all of my typos? now outweighed!

by her honey shade & succulent blade !

KNOWLEDGE BY FLOATING // MARSHMALLOW OF CONFUSION

for all that can be known – floating seems to be the only option when you’re in the sea of interrogatives. you’ll never land because there is no seat in the game of life. ain’t no couch or love seat. there is only ascension to go higher. when you start to read about the rules of the game, if you’re taking the game serious, you’ll be motivated to change your tactics and plan.

knowledge is a tool and one that is given to us freely if we open our hands. the state of knowing is a process, but it is what you do with the knowledge which transforms your state of being. the key to swimming is floating but to do this you must be comfortable with the water. i was afraid of water since childhood, because i had a few occasions where i nearly drowned. i would float on poor floatation devices and always landed in the water struggling for air.

it was Bruce Lee who said: “Be like water, my friend.” 

water flows and water goes // where? who knows! 

the idea of being settled in certainty can be very demanding. as water keeps going and flowing – an eternal destination can seem confining. it’s commonly accepted that knowledge is power, and power should be fun! superheroes are fascinating and appealing because of the special ability they have which transcends the barriers we are commonly subjected to. superheroes can fly. blast into a sudden telekinesis. become invisible for a spell.

this is power. power endowed to them with the strength to defeat whatever may come their way. yet, something this powerful can’t be taken too seriously. it must also be fun. although, when having too much fun, people tend to think you can’t possibly be serious as well. why is this? why can’t we have fun and maintain knowledge at the same time? when i found this new wave of knowledge of floating people started to think i lacked morals and principles. i’d constantly be told that people were praying for me because i lost my way.

090720 KBFMOC
every school of thought has their own perimeters with their specific laws, uniforms, and ethics. even those who profess ‘free thought’ still seem to have a rubric about how free your thinking can go. as free as i believed myself to be – i still restrained myself and put on a different uniform of thought. how different can we be when we still borrow the same tools our ancestors have passed down to us? a change of course can appear as life changing if you never gave it much thought previously. 

Yet, the knowledge of something new doesn’t always guarantee that you’ll stay above the water. While we get out of one box, we place ourselves in another. i have now come to accept that it’s not that we don’t like boxes, we just prefer the boxes WE put ourselves in. If we’re comfortable and content that’s all that matters.

at least, up until the point when we thirst for something new and driven to irritability because it’s tew much!when you come to some uncongenial truths, everything slowly starts to change. This can be an uncomfortable truth. probably a bit more uncomfortable than the results that proved to be of the nature that you preferred.

to be misunderstood or even challenged doesn’t have to mean our demise. if we are all encrypted with a special combination of sorts – whose job is it to understand the key? how can a computer know which mode to follow if it did not make the individual choice to respond to the code already established? When you discover life is more nuanced and complex than you believed – you think of all the people you judged and made responsible through your ignorance and misinformation.

maybe they’re floating on a marshmallow cloud? when one can see what they once were – judgement tames like a saucer in the waters. floating because you’ve been filled WIDTH measures beyond what they can see!

while growing up, my grandmother always had a bag of marshmallows around the house. (just because she knew how much i loved them) i could eat a whole bag in a one setting. she taught me how to make rice crispy treats with them. i never quite gave up my fascination for the comfort of a marshmallow! i loved how soft and buoyant they were! they were comfortable and tasty. it’s the one of the only things we can eat that resembles a cloud. much like how marshmallows are capable of resonating with our humor. i crack myself up! nobody gets it but me usually. some say it’s my wit others just think i’m confused. when drawn to the absurd of reason – i find a mellow seat. confused only as it relates to knowledge and where i could potentially go…

 

here we are: resting on a marshmallow puff of confusion. a pretzel cloud resembling animalized reality and dystopian illusion…

At the heart of confusion tends to be a yearning for the heart to understand what created it in the first place. When you know, you take that knowledge and ultimately create a path towards understanding and then applying that said knowledge. But we already knew that as I’ve already repeated various things by only changing the dress. The tailor remains the same, but different kinds of fabrics, colors, accessories and details add a whole new approach. If already at this point it appears to have gotten redundant because of the same things being said differently – don’t wallow in your confusion. Eat a marshmallow by the fire and get comfortable. If there’s no fire, get comfortable wherever you see fit and allow this comfort to hit the acceptable target of your desires.

O D D L Y SPECIFIC

1. there’s what is obvious and then there’s what’s true – both of which rely, on a perceived notion: according, to many and thereby just an ocean!

2. + it’s very pacific – beaucoup water be overfilling the glass, kicking all the beaches and lakes ass! i’m talking about one that has a name but nothing short of terrific! could i make it even more oddly specific?!

3. once eye saw a pink rhinoceros reading a thesaurus! i asked : why not read the dictionary instead? “cuz decaying definitions are less savory than cinnamon synonyms + reading for too long is a double dread for my nose-horned head!

4. if you ant’ red? you dead! ya heard what i said?” if not, life will seem desperately more horrific revelation and elevation, evolving more and more into something that’s oddly specific!

5. ant’ you socialist?’ i’m balling up my fist if you ant’ get my gist!

ant’ you working to bring that plate to everybody’s table?! *you are most certainly able!* hoarding and controlling the goods for a select few – ant’ ever make any one’s due! get a clue!

 

6. IF YOU AN’T READINGYOU’RE SPEEDING but without a fluorescent END. may your eyes absorb this message and TRANSCEND.

7. This is not a message intending to be weighty or prolific – i aim only to move you closer to something more or less oddly specific!

082820 OS
rhinos and ants read the thesaurus for better understanding…

8. specifically odd but also allowing the heart to nod – to something a bit irregular and somnific.

9. could this sleep allow us to dream? *if by only writing it down we may learn from the rip in the SEAM!*

10. a split honoring our freshly exposed skin – this follows through to a remedy, which could make one perplexed, disturbed, or cause an odd grin.

THE PARABLE OF JARGON M’BELLISH

when you’re lonely – you’ll search every languid hall for an expired season – bumping into the very reason, which provide no alibi…only treason! as i walked astray, i’ve beaten up the innocent and have accused the elderly fray.

this is a transition, which leaves me on a mission to find the utility. i contemplate whether i should continually swallow, this pill of lonesome arrival?

the system has not yet processed, the last byte of sand that’s been witched! my digital frame belongs to a name, not remembered or savored by fame. although, some scream loudly and capture with fallacious print and distorted light. my feet returns to the outdated announced fight.

here it goes again! wher3? over there – just a little closer to the edge, where i’m already hung up over the ledge. the overwhelming plea of this frequent Kabuki theatre, sends worms onto Shakespeare’s SKIN. the mere speech from these actors, makes the mind THIN!

it’s TEW MUCH! a stew rush! the bowl is full and the servings are plentiful but if i eat any more slowly, it’ll grow cold. a flavor equating to mold, cuz the code is just THAT grotesque. your tongue guaranteeing the taste of the silver screen burlesque!

when you’re lonely – you’ll sit in the rocking chair covered in a heated sweat, crying.wetting the face, which begins to trace, all of those smiles hung up and broken, into a stubborn place.

angles and angels pas(t) around you with present pretense (the future while *dense*) still bribe the clock to rock according, to a tune that is funky, or one to mock!

when the dreary seas brush you into the mush, which cause you to daydream – flush the stream and entertain the obscene! (LIKE JARGON M’BELLISH) then you will be awakened! to the siren inside your head, the remembrance is enough to awaken the dead.

as spirits of old, wander in search of a body to poke – if your bees start leaving, it’ll soon begin to feel like a joke. hocus pocus! did you look twice or not focus? herein is a story : which wears the dress of the clown, with colors magnified featuring whistles, pizzazz, and bells on your gown!

08072020 TPOJMB

On one breezy sunday afternoon, Jargon M’Bellish had a thirst for spirit. before Jargon left their home – they made sure they had the following items on:

  • hot pink n blue boho tunic (with green apple squares on each sleeve.)

  • bright orange gloves with marshmallows stickers threaded onto them.

  • royal purple shade trousers with patches of magazine cut outs, featuring various celebrities.

  • sunglasses with beige fuzziness on the handles!

when, they finally walked out onto the busy downtown street // they presumed critical eyes glancing. they were right! cuz their clothes were so peculiar. *could, Jargon M’Bellish be a distraction to passing pedestrians watching? *one couldn’t readily tell! the presumption thrilled their function. suddenly as if possessed, Jargon M’Bellish jumped 22 times, before spinning in circles, only then proceeding, to kick their right knee in the air and moon walk backwards to their destiny which was only a few blocks away.

*** not long after Jargon M’Bellish was handed their spirits and charms – they suddenly realized they didn’t bring a backpack to hold their spirit. would anyone think of them to be a drunk, while holding the brown paper bag? could that be the explanation for their boisterous behavior previously? would Jargon M’Bellish attempt; such randomized delirium before returning home again? i suppose it depends on the impending desire to be SEEN! ***

cuz when you’re lonely – you’ll scream at every voice thus silencing a life saving choice. again i say, REJOICE! for even, when words are emptied and bleak cities are filled with waste – our feet are scorned to pick up and make haste! : with the time that’s still in the room, although it lives on the ceiling – loneliness steadily pleads for healing.

when we are torn a part but simultaneously structured, our dispositions shake and we remain flustered! our feet must slow down to the yellow mustard! we’ve already stopped at the RED LIGHT, while speeding through GREEN – our vehicles ran out of STEAM.

as one shuffles through the sheets and profiles of the stranger. the destination in front of you, can’t hide from a very imminent danger.

the unusual mystery of the antediluvian tree – yields blurred mirrors screaming :

“DO YOU KNOW me?!”
WHY DO YOU FLEE?
Do YOU kNOW Thee?!”

with much more added text, crippling my speech to rhyme & flex. a formula is needed to graph where this goes next…

The Parable of Jargon M’Bellish is about what it feels like to be lonely.

JARGON = language that is characterized by uncommon or pretentious vocabulary and consulates syntax and often vague in meaning

M’= MYTHOMANE (🦷) – a person with a strong or irresistible propensity for fantasizing or exaggerating

BELLISH = to enhance / beautify (a statement or narrative) with fictitious additions, to ‘ish’ it up!

ELBOW G R E A S E

you gotta work through to abstain the stain!
don’t, elbow refrain! don’t, elbow refrain!

when the smudge fudge is far too tough to LIBERATE – jolt yo’ joints to make the path STRAIGHT!

release yourself from the grit that has spit itself in your FACE – work with the strength guided by the essence of GRACE!

you gotta work through to abstain the stain!
don’t, elbow refrain! don’t, elbow refrain!

you may have to get on your KNEES – cuz spraying disinfectant when too close will make you SNEEZE!

072820 EG
it’s funky when you kick it joint to joint!

SCRUB it UNTIL it FADES AWAY!
SAW it UNTIL it CLAWS ASTRAY!

RUB it THROUGH UNTIL – it CAN NO LONGER SIT STILL!

FIRE it OUT BEFORE – it BEGINS TO FEEL AS A CHORE !

you gotta work through to abstain the stain!
don’t, elbow refrain! don’t, elbow refrain!

lEfT to write ! right to READ! brush to break a part the fat & GREED! UP & DOWN, side to sLiDe – foam through the mix and gLiDe!

take a lease on the GrEaSe – and work to ReLeAsE with no will to ever CeAsE – sauce your elbows and keep the pEaCe !

YOU GOTTA PUT ON SOME ELBOW GREASE!

TONGUE NIGHT

all morning, all day, and all of afternOoN – tons of tongues that night, spoke way too sOoN!

though, we’re a little BeHiNd – our lumpy shadows have tWiNeD!

now the lightning has written in cursive, a shape that’s murky & UnLiNeD!

072120 TN
“all morning, all day, and all of afternOoN – tons of tongues that night, spoke way too sOoN! though, we’re a little BeHiNd – our lumpy shadows have tWiNeD!”

today : tomorrow, & tongue-night ‘twas trapped ’ to tasting troubling trauma that’s terrified towards trickery ToMbStOnE!

yesterday night, our eyes witnessed which flavors returned to the tongue, some foreign: others? uNkNoWn!

we could only wish to be saved by the already said SpEeCh – our rocky mountain climb could only attempt to rEaCH!

the census have reported which civilians have been robbed of all tenacity and InSiGhT! by reckoning always, the control and misery buried in the fiction of the wHiTe!

forced fed like animals inside of a platinum ZOO – these crumbs were paid for by the authoritarian ran hULlAbAlOo!

it had to be this tongue kNiGhT! the mid-evening militancy empowering swords to FiGhT!

for it was suited & armored with humility, chivalry, and decadent adjacent ClAsS!

‘tis this tongue night which swirls against those vulnerabilities, shattering myriad mirrored gLaSs!

tongue night is the evening in which there’s a twist and ScRaPpLe!

when our sentences are bewitched in a tangled n’ luscious gRaPpLe!

while being whipped into the lash of the word and InTeRpLaY – this tongue tonight undresses the nerve to quietly sTaY!

INSIDE OUT // outside in

this poem is an exchange between and Sylina and I! her writing is of elephant magnitude – in terms of the weight in how it compels me to carry through. you can find many more of her writings here: http://www.4eyesopened.wordpress.com/

All change ain’t good change, and boy have you changed
From the inside out you’ve transformed,
Not much remained the same.
Sure you still look good, you’ve kept yourself up…
But some of your inner beauty has faded, could it be because you lie so much?
Could the change have come about because your principles and morals have gone bad?
Because you’ve cast away the good memories, the good times that you’ve had?
Because I’ve noticed that you focus on the negative, spinning narratives into a new light.
A new light that turns things darker rather than highlighting the bright.
The pessimism doesn’t help to brighten up your smile.
The old one that I truly loved, I haven’t seen it in a while.
This new one exposes jagged teeth and a crooked tongue that flickers when you lie.
Stupid things you wouldn’t need to say, it always leaves me wondering why.
Why do you feel the need to lie to someone who loves you so?
I say loves, not loved because my love for you would never go.
Not away at least
It’s tried to stray, for peace
To get away from the beast you’ve become.
But I know who you really are
I know that change comes again, and that you’re transformation isn’t done.
I’m holding out hope that this next change reminds you of who you are,
And that this transformation is beautification and doesn’t leave any scars.
All change ain’t good change, and boy have you changed, but then again so have I.

i used to think washing clothes from the outside in – would be the sure way to win?
if threads can be exposed from the inside – the crush of the waves would forgive the sin.
at this exact moment it’s hard to know when to play with wrong or right.
we can both take the courage to board this complex flight.
but by then – how could your memory ever forget or know when to remember?
there’s been a disgrace at the surface –
all knots have not been tied by the end.
which ways we fold – creates a fairytale or mystery untold.
when the message came through in a dream, i denied ever living a life full of lies.
eventually, the separated waves birth a crush and brush – these jewels professed such lush!
the magic of this shine – inspired me to reflect this fiery light.
this was only right –
to turn outside right from the inside out –
it fully occurred to me, the duty of the wind blew me
into its invisible but real state.

this is a revolutionized change which bakes the cake without a signature model or make.

– as the truth of this emotion comes around with verifying reflection
times window makes known the view from
the outside in, which comes from within.

just: X’acute!

(here’s a rhyme for the timing of your procrastination whenever it comes around to do something you don’t want to do…JUST-EXECUTE!)

just: X’acute!

when you’ve been holding it in for so long – the PIRATE need not continually get IRATE! the ocean of misfortune has sent WAVES over my promises GRAVE! i am biting off the APPLE of synchronicity’s CHAPEL! who would have ever guessed i’d return back into the mouth of dizzy EMOTION? for i have drank a compromised POTION– i am hardly capable of denying this NOTION!

JuSt: X’aCuTe!

GETTING IT DONE JUST FOR THE FUN! For the mustard green MEMORY // a rising SYMPHONY, is cluttered with risk and calculating UNDERTAKING! this ain’t no fool’s production in the MAKING! you can’t MISTAKE what was designed to correlate to the ACHE! the vision is SOUND by the mercy of your ears INBOUND!

JUST:X’ACUTE!

when our hands have bled – we become HURT! when alienated in our minds – we appear like DIRT! the kind of dirt that magically arrived on your fresh pair of white CHUCKS! you just lost some serious BUCKS! could you be any more HAZY? by your lack of mobility, your insights have curved @ the avenue of LAZY! albeit – the circumstance has spun you out of CONTROL – you’ve casted your ballot in the election POLL! the clearest ITCH removes the sensation and conjures up the WITCH!

jUsT:x;’AcUtE!

ain’t nobody trying to smell the dragons breath. it’s already oiled our CHAINS! how about we pray for the southern REIGNS? cuz we need a BLOW which rhymes with the FLOW! one that is not bound by lock and KEY – but a combination SOLILOQUY! so much for CONVERSATION – we’ve been burdened with emotional EXCLAMATION! feelings and facts both MATTER – for as long as they don’t SHATTER in the FACE of the dystopian ACE!

JUST:X’ACUTE!

070720 JXAC
= JUST? EXECUTE!

‪if the world could be described as CHOCOLATE? we’re FUDGED! the shoulder pleads the hip to NUDGE – our mountains are ran down to CREAM with uniforms and space suits saved for a fables DREAM! we allow window DRESSING, for the benefit of avoiding the real LESSON. a refraction of light missed on the battlefield of a compromised LANDSCAPE! these lonesome roads are filled with potholes and unsolvable SHAPE! if we could really unravel maybe we’d feel the need to X’acute’ – we ain’t gotta be so MEAN – only keen to the revelation OBSCENE!

just: x’acute! 

X the CUTE? Yes! for even when you MUTE – the bankers still LOOT! they give you the big fat BOOT! the finger doesn’t matter as much as the HAND that’s hidden by the obese one in the BAND! some called it the THUMB but it skilled me NUMB! ain’t that DUMB? INDEXED POINTER FINGER WAGGING AROUND THE MIDDLE RING – WHICH SAILS IN THE OCEAN SWING!

JuSt: X’aCuTe!

make a PLAN and make it STAND! write it DOWN! record it change your GOWN! alternate between the zippers and PATCHES  make sure you hold on to those LATCHES! the SCRIBBLE has been DRIBBLED & signed on the back PAGE and therefore the lines are needed – to be recited center and front STAGE!

JUST:X’ACUTE!

mark the BOX – and wear the philosopher’s SOCKS! SPOT THE ACUTE1 AND FLEX WITH YOUR FINEST SUIT!

just: X’acute!