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.

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.

Getting There

FOLLOW ME AS I CAPTURE THE ESSENCE OF THE WIND
WE MAY BEGIN TO REVEAL THE SEEDS OF MY SIN
CRYSTAL STARLIGHT HOVERING OVER YOUR HAIR
A WANDERING CALL BECKONS YOU TO SIT OVER THERE

AND NOW HERE YOU ARE NERVOUS WITH DESIRE
WISHING FOR PURPOSE TO STING YOU WITH A HOLY FIRE
THEY CAN’T SEEM TO SEE THROUGH YOUR OPEN WINDOW
THOUGH YOUR HEART BEATS WITH A CRIPPLING CRESCENDO

LOST IN AN UNKNOWN LAIR – WHERE GOVERNING BEATS REPEAT
SOUNDS GLISTEN PROVIDING RHYTHMIC MEDICINE TO YOUR FEET
A MAP OF PROMISE BEGINS TO ARISE FROM THE SMOKE
A CAT APPEARS TO REMIND YOU OF FATES JOKE

HOW DID YOU EVER FIND THIS ARENA OF CIRCUMSTANCE
WHEN DID YOU EVER FORGET THE CODE OF TRANCE
NOW YOU CAN’T HELP BUT TRIP ON A SLIPPERY BASE
THEY CAN’T UNSEE YOUR BONAFIDE FACE

THE TOKENS HAVE ALL FELL OVER INSIDE A SHALLOW CREEK
AS OUR POCKETS WERE FULL – WE COULD HARDLY SPEAK
BLESSED ARE THE DAGGERING MOTIONS FROM THE SEA
FOR WOE WAS THEE, NO LONGER ME – FOR NOW WE HAVE THE KEY

Punitive Punch

They came with a punitive punch. A punch meant to sentence me to prison. They wanted me to pay for all my alleged crimes.

There I went – flying with punishment for crimes I did not commit. Something as small as an ant turned into a monster from The Transformers series.

What’s the point of making something so minuscule a major quandary? The implication of guilt then breeds a fierce judgment which disqualifies my actual existence to think freely.

Applauding progress nowadays is like sticking a gun up to someone after they sincerely apologize. I want to change that. Progress deserves a laudable response when met with demonstrative commitment.

Instead, I’m given a whip to my brain – fighting over the grains of sand while building skyscrapers with what remains.

This was a knockout to the mind and a strangle to my neck. I was sent without warning and while believing I was strong, I then came across a nail polish bottle.

NPNAH.jpg
This was a test of my strength and I couldn’t pass it as well as I thought. The twists and turns only left my hands bruised – this was a punch meaning to wrongfully arrest me with brutal enforcement. 

This was meant to make a mockery of my weakness and while we all deal with it at some point. I’ve already been locked in a padded cell. I’m crying out for Justice and Mercy, but will I ever be heard? The guards laugh at me as they know this familiar story.

So, what’s left to say when you’ve been punched? You can hit back but a punch ain’t a pinch. This punch was a knockdown to my rebuttal. A rebuke to my progress – a punitive punch which knocked me to the ground.

As I lay down to lick my wounds, I’m reminded that a punch doesn’t mean it’s the end of me. A punch is much like a reminder that it was all a joke. *Like come on, don’t take it that seriously* I sure as hell ain’t Laughing but I’m not crying either. A striking blow yes, but it opened a window to my healing.

Now, I can contemplate my next move! I’ll offer a punch back this time – with a spike. Then we can get this party started for real! No more tears or fears – Justice has finally served us pardoned.

Y.C.D.T.

(You.Can.Dislike.This.)

Cuz it’s too weird. Cuz it’s Too long. You don’t like me. Cuz it’s boring. Cuz you wanna troll. Cuz think it can be better. Whatever The reason, yes – You Can Dislike This. 🙂

This video is a part of The Living Things 7 video collection.