The Girl With The Tattoo

She clutches to this imagination, a belief that he is someone he is not;

that he's someone he doesn't want to be.

She clutched to the hope,

to the illusion,

to her false comforts

of Him existing.

Superimposing her wishes 

from her mind's projector unto his wall

her eyes are blinded

her mind clouded

her thoughts - dreams.

She wants to wake up and see the truth

but she knows not how to let go of her fantasy.

She knows not how to see reality and not her dreams.

Life has become so dull that she can't bare to live in it without

those false comforts,

those illusions

those desires.

My Inspiration. My All

I have had this poem chilling for quite some time. I've felt like I never finished it and really wanted to, but I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will. I've decided to share it with you and let you know that I have no plans to complete it. It shall remain incomplete.

Silence; seated; awe.

Just listen to the majesty.
Who cares for the fountain of youth when
this fountain flows with truth
and hides not behind lies of tainted windows and politrix and common myths.
So brilliant and radiant are the droplets that escape its source
and blessed I am
I am considered blessed to touch,
not even taste,
this water so true.
How can you deny this fountain to be majestic and amazing?
This fountain spits fire and ice,
warmed water from it's core
trickles down like none other,
touches me sensually, metaphysically,
socially and emotionally
so much so that I want more.

Thanks for reading!

-Black Hippie 758

The Coded Explanation

I put you on a pedestal
And some how it got away.
Elevated to such great heights
that I feel like
you are beyond my reach.

So instead of trying to rise to an insurmountable level
I sit at the knees of a mountain
and wait
for the day
when miraculously I fly
into the sky
and join you on that pedestal.

Blown Like An Appliance

There's something about the truth that gets under your skin.

I don't usually do two posts in a day, but this! this I had to share. It could not wait.

My dear friend Daryl Dujon, posted this link on my Facebook wall and I must admit that when I was done reading and listening I didn't know what to do with myself. It was like I was in a coma and I had just woken up. Simply amazing. I beg you, have a look and listen to this - http://arcthemagazine.com/arc/2011/07/de-art-junket-presents-armed-with-words/ - comment here, comment there, circulate the link, make it a discussion. Wow...I can't even finish typing. My mind is still trying to collect itself after that.

WOW!


Just, just go check it out. You won't regret it.

The Addiction

My addiction continues
until I OD and get over you
but only for a moment, relative to the movement of time
for in time
I'll be back, hooked on your every word,
your every desire;
hanging from your every thought
and every conversation.

My addiction continues
possibly until death
or some sort of an overload
from which I can no longer return.
My addiction continues,
but there must be a reason
why I can't get off  this drug.

Seconds,
Minutes,
Hours,
Days, weeks to months go by and I'm fine
until one day I get the sensation
to sample your sweetness
and I forget about the connection
and your power over me.

My drug, my poison,
I love how you consume me.

The Unseen

Take photos of me while I'm asleep

and analyse my beauty

my thoughts

my fears

and dreams.

In the peace or the horror

whatever the mood dampens the air

record the life of my unseen moments.

The funny

the ugly

the wonderful

and curious,

record them all and play them back for me

in black and white

or in color.

Tinted purple

or animated rays.

Capture the beauty I never get to see

and keep it in your heart.

My Piece of History

Today I was at work and randomly decided that I should print a collection of my poems, written thoughts, favourite quotes and the likes. I'm not really sure where it came from, but I really liked the idea. I convinced myself that it wasn't that wild of an idea, because I remembered my friend, and Dancer's Feet Featured Artist - Stephen Dantes did such.

I guess now the process will be to find a name for the compilation, illustrations if I desire (and of course I do desire), and which recorded words shall be published?

Let the collection of my history begin

Standing In The Sun Remembering You

and I

Frank

miss the feel of your skin

against mine.

The taste of sin

so concentrated

it paralyzes,

numbs out the world of righteousness.

When We Think We Are Alone

Sit from the tinted window
looking down at my world.
Observe me wander in circles,
stop momentarily
you hold your breath
in the hopes
that I will shed a tear.
And I feel it coming
as if probed by you
but come it never does,
so I continue walking in circles
intersecting another one.

Looped Love

He is back.

I know it is him

for I know the sound of his keys in the door,

I know the sound of his footsteps along the floor.

And I lay paralyzed in bed

by his presence.

He leans over and touches my face

gently caressing my skin.

He kisses my cheek

and bids me hello.

"Hello my darling, how I have missed you."

Kiss the lips of my heart

and make it's eyes quiver.

You love me;

for if you didn't

You wouldn't be back so many times.

The Truth

Windows to my soul

I let you peep through

and dive into

the sea hovered by storms

of various emotions

swishing and swirling

from hurricane to calm

in a split second.

You wanted to see

You wanted to experience

You wanted to solve

the mystery

that lies

behind my eyes.

Sometimes Love Just Isn't Enough

Sometimes love just isn't enough
to calm the nerves of my heart.

I am being unreasonable by wanting your full attention once we converse?

Sometimes love just isn't enough
to soothe the anxiety in my mind.

My preference is no extras although I'm the extra...and I know I will be told otherwise but I don't care. I know what is in my mind.

Sometimes love just isn't enough
to rid this feeling of loneliness creeping on me, making me realise that no matter how much love we have you will never be mine.

And even though I dream and dream, day in and day out, hallucinate and pray, it will never be so. I will never be that face you see every morning when you awake. I will never be that body holding you tight in the middle of the night. It will never be my spirit that is taken to higher heights in the middle of the night. It will never be me and I'm just going to have to live with that. Going to have to live with that reality.

Sometimes love isn't enough to change reality.

If You See, Touch

Naked
I'm standing
in front of
you
waiting for eyes to see.
But they don't
they all look past me,
look through me.
And I hang my head
maybe in shame.
maybe in hurt.
maybe in pain.
disappointed? and sad?
I'm tired of waiting.
I'm tired of looking.
I'm tired of hoping.

If you see
touch.
Bring my flesh back to life
and take me away from transparent.
Bring the fire back inside my eyes
and the radioactive energy to my nucleus.

Ignite and set a light to that beacon inside
that lights the world
and your life.

If you see,
Touch.
Touch and let it be known.

When Unhappiness Comes Knocking

What do you do when you look in the mirror and all you see id what you used to be not who you are?

What do you do when can't recognize yourself by the things that interest you?
When superficial beliefs and philosophies satisfy you, when before, you searched for a deeper meaning.

What do you do when you're prepared to sacrifice that which you know is right to get what everyone else is hustling for?
When you're prepared to not be that one different person but blend in with the crowd.
What do you do?

What do you do when you're lost in that concrete jungle and because you don't know the way out, you continue walking the way of the zombie, left; right; left; right; left.
What do you do?

What do you do when you wake up in the morning and realize unhappiness is knocking at your front door?

Death by Cancer

This poem was written by my boyfriend and I. This is the first time I have ever written a poem with someone. It's pretty amazing. Enjoy. Don't forget to comment (if you can :S)

Journey with me
to depths inconceived
as I grow to full blossom.

Explore the realms
of subconscousness
and discover
love and trust along the way.

Raging winds try
to spin us out of control
but despite what may,
we hold on,
grounded,
and continue to explore.

Onward we press
for this journey never ends,
never, but only with death.

But the journey never ends, not even with death
so onward we press
and continue to explore,
yet ungrounded we still hold on,
despite what may, we hold on.

Takin flight into raging winds
for love and trust are etched into our subconcious
and rooted in all its realms to the greatest depths.
There is no fear for you have grown into full blossom.

Our Song

I find joy in the simplest of things, and this is one of them. Imagine two grown people singing this nursery rhyme for each other and meaning the world to each other when they do.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You never know dear how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

May you remember to appreciate and cherish the little things in life.

Red Sunrise

Let your eyes behold me
under her smile
naked
and pure
as I rise as if I were baptized by your love.

My eyes sparkle
in the gray light
for what's on your mind I know in my heart.

Words are unnecessary.
The silence is pure
and truly understood
even more than any word uttered.

And for a moment
I need not be
inconspicuous
but entwined in your mercies,
and entangles in your love
completely
and uncaring.

Words that dance off the page

I have some spare time, some quiet time, some time for me,
to sit in my balcony
daydreaming about the wonder
full memories I have of you that kiss the lips of
my mind back and forth,
round and round,
over and over again
you play with my emotions
unknowingly
but still I say nothing
I don't tell you how I feel.
I don't say to you you are me just in a different circle.
I don't say turn around and look at me
for I am the one who loves you.
No, I don't say it
especially now that you've said I wasn't so I still am not.
I still am not ready to have you as mine,
and only mine,
I'm still not ready to have you be the only one to take my breath away,
to blow my mind,
to make me smile forever
and ever
and ever
AMEN!! could be the voice of the people at our wedding,
but no,
you look the other way,
you don't see me that way,
you have your glasses on,
and on they will forever be,
because she is who you want to see.
But me,
I am there to give you the advice you want to hear,
which happens to be the advice you so seek,
the advice you need for that situation.

Maybe I'm stupid for not just telling you that I'm all you need,
and she, she is me when we were we,
and me is no longer she when we were we,
for I am me,
ready to give,
ready to receive
all of me
and all of you.

When will you see?


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Grey Matter

So I sat down and felt like I wanted to or needed to write. A lot has been going on for the past 2 weeks and my mind has been working overtime. I just keep thinking and thinking and thinking. There were just so many t hings going on in my mind that I didn't even know what I was really thinking about. So today I jsut decided to write. Just let my fingers glide over my keyboard and type whatever I wanted. If it doesn't really make sense, I honestly don't care. If I have spelling mistakes, again I really don't care. My fingers were dancing. You should give it a try. One day just type and see where you get. Oh and when I paused I still did not go back and read what I wrote. Ok. I'm going to stop blabbing away right now so you can read my "master piece!" lol. Hope you enjoy.

Move to the rhythm of your soul
of your song
of your heart
beat
pumping blood to the four corners of the world
is my mind running
from thought to thought
like a frog hopping from rock to rock.

No one likes to be used.
No one likes to be unappreciated.
Even if it comes as a complete shock when you get it,
deep down inside we are satisfied.

My fingers dance across the keyboard
as the words formulate in my mind
and resonate on this page.
I am completely unaware of what I am writing,
all I know is I am dancing
even while sitting in a carrel in the library
I am dancing
to this eternal rhythm of my mind working
constantly
methodologically
sporadically
uniquely
similarly to others around me.

Write.
Don't be afraid.
Let go and let that rhythm of words dance with your soul and your fingers
as you create gold.