The Ship of Patience

Time sliding like a swing

Or is it me?

In a box

Pendulum deciding

To ring or to sit this one out

I believe in 2nd coming

Not the chosen

For if he was chosen

And I was made chosen

I believe in my 2nd coming

Or 3rd

Down this road it’s hard to tell

How many times ?

When a game this is not

How many times I wonder

Many lives embodied into me

Living spirits crawled up on me

An army of my kindred people

I take within

Some times They Win

But I must win

For my sake

An underwritten thing that I must prove

When I speak I don’t take lightly

I thread with haste

And move with ease

This battle must be won

To claim the stake of eternity

This spiral connection

The water spirit

The reddened wine

White and splinter

Into parts

Some that see

Some that are lost

Some that hear

Some that fear

All in the making of me

Going beyond

the risk involved

The chatter, jeers and laughter

All when said

My truth I would have created

In distant memories or remembered gospel

Simple World: migration

I have fluttered between the lines of imported identity and every day I continue to dabble in and out of a constrained line of thought. Growing into this man, I clearly see both my weakness and the lines that should be crossed. At this point I can not boldly say I revere in the sunken state of this blue light that filters through pixelated devices. There is an arrogance I hold, unneeded at sometimes. I need to let go of the darkness that surrounds me. I need some of form of light to balance my thought…….

Simple World: dreams of the growing ocean

And in that dream, I saw myself right at the edge of an ocean, looking across the lavish blue water body. In the light, the sun providing me an ambiance of humid energy. I, then saw myself at the steps of a brewing river. Across, there the land of the red rested. Smells of the evening preparations lingered in air, mothers giving incense to firewood, stirring earth secrets and leaves in clay pots. Round and round. Milky-eyed children on bare feet, grain of sands entangled in their little toe-nails, pranced around their mothers playing the growing rhythm of life.

During the settling of the sun, far-east, warm-red attached itself all over the land giving meaning to its current dwellers. Mountains and hills providing shield, the people of the red peaceful ways living right in the center unaware of the many things beyond them.

In that dream, first my mind opened, then did my eyes. In that steady floating motion. Slowly paced. On wings I flew beyond the blue water body. To a flowing waterfall sitting at the edge of an old hill, I placed my gaze, pouring downwards from the waterfall was water and specks of stars. Both combining, forming into an overwhelming, overbearing light. Up, this light rises above me and the surrounding trees and sky creatures. Up, past the epic blue sky full of moon-colored clouds, deep into the holdings of space, the light reached and finally settled. Another beaming fire of the universe conceived from the deep wells of our own earth.

And in that dream, right at the moment before my eyes was to awaken and my mind back into the shadows of sleep. I, now guided on the wings of an ancient phoenix, around me soft sounds of breathing clouds played the keys of blue and green. There, I saw the ocean growing in width, length and in great depth. Its wide arms stretching out to the land of the red. I saw the earth, trees, leaves, birds, blue, green, grazing herd, mountains and last the voices of the red.
I saw them all, awakened, freeing up space and air. The ocean rapidly increased, growing in length, width and from within: the earth’s innermost crust. Arms continuously stretching, reaching further across the ends of earth.

And in that dream, suddenly I was no more

Simple World: War Sight

When I open my eyes all I see is an untainted red; first a specter forms spreading into a canvass of dappled blood, all trapped around my cornea. But when my sight releases itself from its temporary bind a light blue hue explodes into my pupils fading away the once known pain. I am he. A solider who forgot the calls of death in the early rise of war-battle. Shout at me and I will keep marching forward for my name refuses to settle in my wall of thoughts. What I seek now is not redemption nor forgiveness. I only ask for the scythes of death to bring me the silence of love; an end to where I may begin knowing my woman awaits at the pearly gates of my awakening.


So I Say

Casualty, casualty

Rid me of pretense

For when my memories flood in

I am left in the green lush bush

Thick with regrets;

Regrets born from the dragon’s fire


And as the night dissipates

Burning with the fire called love

In my hand, liquor my king, reigns

My crown to hold

My own Queen’s touch gone

Her scent nowhere to be smelled


Casualty, casualty

The wars of my forgotten fathers

have brought me the cold of tomorrow


Casualty, oh casualty

My mother’s love has

Fled from my abode


Casualty, dearest you

Where do you hide my lover’s silk?

Her ivory skin lingers in my tongue


Casualty, forgotten one

Bring me home

To where my bones

May find soil

To stand on ground

For I fear my past sins

May eat away my flesh


Casualty, oh sweetest pain

Where’s my future?

For the present has me locked away

back in my war zone past


As the world spins on a pole of fire, souls light up dancing along with golden sun




Simple World: Morning Edition


The air itself was music. It was not self-imposing like the train noise echoing from a distant place neither was it chipping away morning lullabies like the birds on the poles and trees. It was amidst all, and everything around it was consumed by its unapparent presence. Without most knowing, life was giving away its most prized rhythms for free. And all who thought they could hear sounds of bytes were voided in the gift of hearing.

During a dreadful storm one does care about the shouts or cries of the sea, all that matters is coming out at the brighter side of the tale. Heroic, yet a good sailor not great (because there are no great) will listen to the ascending roars of the waves and with deep insight into the ways of the water, he or she will pass through with ease. Now we all have different paths, but regardless of the set road we have a singular end point; same destination. Some require rugged tricks to pull out from the beast of the sea. But no matter your gift, wise or unwise, understanding the waves of life will help you in finding that road you desperately need to embark on, and when or if you listen, maybe your path will call out your name; Loud and strong.

For the sins of man has been fully paid.
Nothing can stop the token your thighs received when you first echoed your cries.
Rebelling against even mata, a fist of odd thoughts.
Knocking on the door of joy, craving for the taste of sea.
Morning come, money go

Simple World Part II

And like that, he stood up and watched all eyes turned to him. Intimidated by the stares, he tried to create leeway through the crowd. The squishing got tighter by each movement. His suit was painted in red attracting those without colors to him.
He had to find another place, he thought. As he went into solace, he found the new sound, music it was, but unfamiliar; the birth of a new muse. The speculation was that the man in red had returned from the unknown. He had been elevated by the new muse to above and beyond plain ground.
The element had been made and a name was required. The power to create a space, a world, a lane, or a chassis is there for all to grasp. Still do what you think of. This is not a message from the hungry pulpit. The driven make those who taste bitter cringe until all they have left is to turn right and chew away: sweet sonic. Harsh reality, time passed quickly and he became the living evidence. A wide range to cover and conquer. Brace for the birth of Cocoa Sola.
How can you understand when you think time goes by the ways of the watch? Keep hold but free loose. Of course, the ground shook when the aliens came to earth. Foreigners of some kind, they enlightened those who choose to look with their already acquired powers. The aliens did not call it power, but as usual, folks can never phantom the light beyond the wires.
Their cars crashed on the covers that protect those from their own nightmares. Hovering in a singular pattern. Resonating uncalculated sounds. Those who remembered came out and spoke freely to the unhinged figures. The mind most lost could have been preventable if only the saying became a living proof.
The people saw forward and back without living here and there. The new anthem is: Real is fear. The description is in the lessons not the flowing down of necks. The taste is strong when the garnishing is left to those who refuse sweetness. Mixing chemicals failed the professor so he threw away all he had worked for. It rained and he wished for her to be here with him.
The girl was a sting, a second after. Drifting quietly inwards, the incitation chants rang deep till the dreams of a Lion was fully told. Now onto ink and matta.
Swollen Intermission, red eyes. Yes they know you now, fully blooded they call him. Always painted, they pointed. Agreed, but my infinite vision is beyond you definite thinking. Growth by each word; powers born to rage full in bright red.
My Arrival; hence the mission to bring a new world in this green and already recycled world.
Residing tide, reincarnated man
The suit lasted and lasted till it became pale in red. The origins of the man in red. Bathed with elevation, he was lifted with many more in-nights.

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