An Unfinished Painting

(welcome back late night freewrite hype)


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I have come to know the image that has been painted by the soul.
It speaks of a cliché,
but I stand before you now to justify its difference.
So I gaze out through one’s presence only to find a portrait of my mind.
and as I pick it up, all the subject matter it holds runs off like un-dry paint.
Loose with no solid substance,
A fresh vision put in place with a brush oversaturated.
Overused over time to the point where it no longer bear its own original look.
How ironic, that my splitting image of the tool can be used to manipulate my self conscious
and hold the potential to build this misinterpreted perception of reality.

I understand I hold the key to unlock my minds eye,
but the only problem is it’s not so easy to see why I can’t find it.
It’s like watching a locksmith run through a ring of keys,
hoping that he would hurry up and just find the right one already.
As if life depended on it.
As if time relied on it.

But through the re-evaluation.
I’ve viewed the social norms society creates as hindrances
Restrictions to confine the spirit in which the soul wishes to regain control of.
The difference lies within these lines.
But the cliché and ironic reality is that they always remain trapped and embedded in these words.
These words that are merely a shameless, and hopeful effort to convey truth.
Because sometimes truth hurts,
and because sometimes truth should not be admitted.

So I leave the painting out to dry.
But the paint keeps running off.
Even if I laid it flat on the ground, its contents spill onto the floor.
And while many would equate this as endless tears of sadness,
I realize it now and see it like overflowing tears of joy.
A “happiness” and form of content to know that my soul is forever changing.
Never still.
Never dull
Like dancing in a cleansing rain
Paint constantly being applied to the canvas.

A painting never finished…

Written In Stone

"I'm Going with the flow" they say

Because...
Where the wind blows
Is where the decision goes
Where that wind blows
Is where your character's exposed

This is the thought processes of all the lost boats
But you cant sail the seas without feeling the breeze
You cant feel the breeze unless you're not pleased
We choose the wrong things cause it seem to show ease
We're searching for a means to an elucidating dream
Clear as the sky in July
We're trying to stay high
Without the abusiveness
Without loosing-it
A positive reaction for your profound mind
But this sometimes kill what we have inside
Priorities are clashed due to our individual sight
Blurred in a distance
We're searching for a prince or princess
Someone to talk too and listen
Who can understand your mission
So you can grow old with them
But at times we'll find peasants,
Whom we learn some important lessons
About the struggles and beauties in life,
Understanding this will bring some strives
And we can't deny
Divided by truth and falsity
"Be your own leader, try not to follow me"
Is some advice that I won't lie
Cause we're followers in this false time
While we paint love with the dollar signs of a paid stub
This goes out to the young hearts, who don't embrace love
To the women that relies too much on make-up
And to the little men who's acting hard, imitating fake thugs
Cause we're all dreamers that will never wake-up
I make love...
To the art, the life, the music, the rhyme
I have the heart to write, I use it every time
Life's the pain, the struggle, the sadness
But if you don't believe in life, then you don't believe in magic
No smoke and mirrors, just motivation and love to see things clearer
The audience is odd-in-sense
They're facade trends
Cant believe in them
They're the illusion with imaginary friends
Paying the admission price but never attend
Because the magician writes the poems to transcend
Like..
Happy endings only exist when lives are paused in a time of bliss
Release the button and press play
So we truly know what's beyond today's cliche
Because love is behind the screen names, showing affection on a keyboard
Diving into the satisfactions of the unknown weirdoes, claming they need more

MORE.


That's what everyone needs.

More of this, more of that.


We need MORE respect for our women!
We need MORE peace when it comes to our vision!
We need MORE education for our children!
We need MORE tools for our fundamental buildings!
We need MORE soul searching and less killings!

Soldiers giving MORE than an arm and a leg
They're getting arms to the brain
To the soul, to their lives
For an insufficient Presidential campaign
That don't give a damn because the government's telling lies
While the administration admit-to-be-astray in our nation
Distracting us from mass weaponry, which is no longer helping me
Questioning where should my soul-hold?
Who's opinion matters, is it about freedom, revenge, or the oil?
Seems we rather log into internet sites
Then reading the pages of our hero's lives
Where AIM is to aim the young mind's frame of absolute boredom
Your space is noticeable by your face, you said you did it for your friends
You did it for-them.

Now you're accepting these strange strangers
Approval is passed from their appearance
Don't think of the danger
Because your curiosity is your clearance
Instead of ignoring-them
You rather dedicate your mind and time on insults and comments
But what you really need is intelligence, when I'm telling-them
Reality is now artificial, people holding more then invisible pistols
They're holding delusional joints, shot glass full of sickness
Confusion that's a fist-full
Admiring those import-models, we need important role-models
Everyone's drunk off of ignorance
Seems we're all grown babies sucking out of that liquor bottle
Too emotional;
She cries
He fights
She's mad
He's glad
But both won't resist on telling the truth due to drinks they had
Love's that song where women are degraded
Because what's being played on the hit radio stations
Weak minds are persuaded
Love's the middle age man flirting with the teens
While a teenage girl acting like she's her mid-twenties
What happen to your revolution and independence, is there any?
Because when it comes to immaturity and lack of sense, there's plenty
Love's a bucket full of false hope and insecurity
Because their's a fine line between perfection and obscurity
Love is now in clubs, webpage's, and in exotic dancers.

Hypnotic, Hennessy, Tequila, is the new found answer
For problems and enjoyments which leads to escapism
We're assorted ornaments that needs to face the rhythm
Face our decision, our fate, then we'll appreciate living
Are we learning from mistakes when we take those chances?
Because who's words are actually affecting the masses?
The police?
The preacher?
The student?, the teacher?
Your parents or the world leaders?
It's the artist who holds the paint brush
To paint canvases of weightless imagery of peace
It's heavy to see because we can't handle the pressure
While the message is release
It's the musician aspired to play noise
Transforming the noise into something we're here for
Lovely sounds of unforgettable instruments
Layered with powerful lyrics to make some sense
It's in a novel, in a museum or in your iPod
It brings hope, comfort, love, or means to a God
It's you, me, and the ones we love
We affect the people, cause we know what's up
Now I'm off to be alone to write this on stone
I wish you the best, it's time to be me...time to be unknown

Dreamscapes...

"The dreamer is the designer of tomorrow. Practical men... can laugh at him; they do not know that he is the true dynamic force that pushes the world forward. Suppress him, and the world will deteriorate towards barbarism. Despised, impoverished, he leads the way... sowing, sowing, sowing, the seeds that will be harvested, not by him, but by the practical men of tomorrow, who will at the same time laugh at another indefatigable dreamer busy seeding, seeding, seeding."

-Ricardo Flores Magon (June 28, 1921)

never know.

i never want to know what it's like
to have never met you
...wondering will suffice.
only to remind me
how necessary your presence was
to me
in my life
and you
i never want to know what it's like
to forget you
trying my hardest
to remember every little detail
will be enough
to remind me
how wonderful every moment i can remember
is and always will be

and i wonder if at the end of your life
you thought to yourself
that you were glad to have met me
that you were so glad to have known me
that if ever you remembered a day of me
it was one in which i made you happier
and not burdened...
not frustrated...
but at ease and at peace...
because that's all i ask for you
in your final moments of rest
in your final moments away from us
i only wish you peace
and i can always wonder
what my life would have been like
if i had never met you
i wonder what i would be like
had i never known who you were
had i never spoke to you at all
i wonder often if you remembered me at all
in your final breaths
if you inhaled anything i said
and if you exhaled a sigh of remembrance of me
and i know your passing has nothing to do with me
the world lost you
and even then, i cannot grieve enough to show you
how we are burdened by your absence
knowing that the world will never be the same
it will still turn
but i'll only be able to view it
through tearful eyes
watery
blurred vision
like my memories of you
and with time...
i'll wonder again
if you remembered me at all
if my presence in your life was anything more to you
than a simple thought in passing

but i thank the world
as it turns in my blurred vision
that with my tearful eyes
and my weakened hands that wipe those tears away
that i will only have to wonder
but i'll never have to know for sure
how my life would have been without you...