Clearly you can tell he knows not the word abuse, as all it takes is a single conversation.
Not because words have lost their meaning but only men with empathy can really take off their shoes.
Pride, in question, "how can there really be another set of eyes that see differently?!"
Words flowing out like a pond dam that couldn't keep it together, showing the village deprived of water to drink, the dirt it had been collecting.
Of course the village already knew, the dam was dirty as all it took was one trip to the stream.
Their shock was only for a while, when it made sound as it broke out.
No one never expects, even after living almost a life time, that clean water would come out. For them it was that dirty pond they couldn't call a dam.
One day, a curious boy saw this barrier about to burst, he hiked and hiked, up his emotions and heard what the dam had to say, only to find, all it wanted was the liberty from being enslaved.
The boy felt bad and guilty. "Are we responsible for the dam's captivity? The village might have been the problem after all.."
He almost finished crying "what have we done?!" until the dam burst. What he saw made him feel unlike, such a fool he was.
When the dam broke out it almost flew across the village holding all the muck and debris, thoughts, past and things left behind for years to rot and decay, that it had been digging and holding, holding and digging some more underneath the settler's feet all along. So it can throw it back.
The desperate act unfolded to be that, what only the boy saw in the midst of night. He cried and cried more and laughed because he cried, the thought of spelling out what he had seen felt like a boulder he had to push to the village at the first sign of light.
As life must go on, so does time, light did its work despite what the boy had in mind. The village already knew what happened by the noise and just a blink of sight, asked the boy with the broken words and dried tears in his eye,
If he knew the tale of the dead man that never died.
After cleaning up they all sat down with the boy to tell him a story,
You see, they say there was once a man, who never lived a full life, driven with just desire for things he never had. At a very young age learned how to expect more than he gave, and gave more so one day he could be able to tell you the things he expects. At first they all thought he was fearless, but deep down he was more afraid than others. So afraid in fact he used fear itself and sadness and guilt to push people around, If only he knew what circles had meant, before he rolled his words to his very end.
Who was this man? the boy asked, eager to put a face to his wonder.
An old lady stepped up front from the shadow of the villager's circle, like she had been waiting for the boy to finally ask,
"He was my first husband a lightning had struck. His body was never to be found, but his soul stayed within the last thing he had seen when he left for good, the rain!, the rain that came down that day stayed inside that hole no one believed was there, it was a mystery to all but we knew enough to not let that water flow back out again. Finding trash we had thrown away and things buried under, inside that man's water was enough to make us think before we drank from love for ever, ....and you thought was the dirt." She smiled.
The old lady's story for the boy was to teach him something, he was unsure, it felt real in some people's eyes while she spoke, and they happened to be the ones just as old.
Not because words have lost their meaning but only men with empathy can really take off their shoes.
Pride, in question, "how can there really be another set of eyes that see differently?!"
Words flowing out like a pond dam that couldn't keep it together, showing the village deprived of water to drink, the dirt it had been collecting.
Of course the village already knew, the dam was dirty as all it took was one trip to the stream.
Their shock was only for a while, when it made sound as it broke out.
No one never expects, even after living almost a life time, that clean water would come out. For them it was that dirty pond they couldn't call a dam.
One day, a curious boy saw this barrier about to burst, he hiked and hiked, up his emotions and heard what the dam had to say, only to find, all it wanted was the liberty from being enslaved.
The boy felt bad and guilty. "Are we responsible for the dam's captivity? The village might have been the problem after all.."
He almost finished crying "what have we done?!" until the dam burst. What he saw made him feel unlike, such a fool he was.
When the dam broke out it almost flew across the village holding all the muck and debris, thoughts, past and things left behind for years to rot and decay, that it had been digging and holding, holding and digging some more underneath the settler's feet all along. So it can throw it back.
The desperate act unfolded to be that, what only the boy saw in the midst of night. He cried and cried more and laughed because he cried, the thought of spelling out what he had seen felt like a boulder he had to push to the village at the first sign of light.
As life must go on, so does time, light did its work despite what the boy had in mind. The village already knew what happened by the noise and just a blink of sight, asked the boy with the broken words and dried tears in his eye,
If he knew the tale of the dead man that never died.
After cleaning up they all sat down with the boy to tell him a story,
You see, they say there was once a man, who never lived a full life, driven with just desire for things he never had. At a very young age learned how to expect more than he gave, and gave more so one day he could be able to tell you the things he expects. At first they all thought he was fearless, but deep down he was more afraid than others. So afraid in fact he used fear itself and sadness and guilt to push people around, If only he knew what circles had meant, before he rolled his words to his very end.
Who was this man? the boy asked, eager to put a face to his wonder.
An old lady stepped up front from the shadow of the villager's circle, like she had been waiting for the boy to finally ask,
"He was my first husband a lightning had struck. His body was never to be found, but his soul stayed within the last thing he had seen when he left for good, the rain!, the rain that came down that day stayed inside that hole no one believed was there, it was a mystery to all but we knew enough to not let that water flow back out again. Finding trash we had thrown away and things buried under, inside that man's water was enough to make us think before we drank from love for ever, ....and you thought was the dirt." She smiled.
The old lady's story for the boy was to teach him something, he was unsure, it felt real in some people's eyes while she spoke, and they happened to be the ones just as old.
👍1
5 minuites of to whom it may concern.
In a world where you and I can be anything, we became a story of 5 minuites.
I already see how it goes,
we see eachother from a distance, a distance that makes us question how we ended up placing our eyes in the same direction of all the people out there, but you and I know damn well I wanted you to see me and you wanted the same and had to make sure we see us see us,
- -
I already see how it goes,
I start to wonder what you sound like, if your voice picks my soul up from the sky it fell from, mends the wounds and sends me back up faster than the first time I fell for someone like you, someone who took my innocence, someone like me, someone like I used to be, because all it takes is a simple hey and the air from the h as you breathe it out to begin one hell of a ride accompanied by the high pitched tones that follow that reassure a blind man of your smile when you said what you said, a blind man such as I, who claims to see but is awakened every round we meet, almost like I'm offended that you even dared to come back, I know you, what's your name? Who do you think you are? I think I love you. I will never stop loving you, I hate you.
I already see how it goes,
Within those 5 minuites of this and that, we somehow manage to know more about eachother than ourselves, how we lie to ourselves.
I'm afraid of you. I'm terrified of myself around you. Not of who you are, but what you can do to me. Maybe we keep bumping into eachother over and over again like Destiny was just bored of matching ignorance with bliss, gods with prayers, toxcicity with Ross and Rachel and had nothing better to do, because maybe we need to learn to push one another away. But no. We don't, do we?
I already see how it goes.
Your smiles soon turn into longings of who you used to be, your gentle touch as we shake hands for the first time and feel a moment for eternity soon morph into desperation for space. Long story short I blame you and not myself as we pass off putting blades in one another as seeing what's out there, scaring ourselves for the next us we run into.
Look at us confessing our sins, searching for a savior in eyes that soon bleed for the same pair of eyes.
I already see us.
In a world where you and I can be anything, we became a story of 5 minuites.
I already see how it goes,
we see eachother from a distance, a distance that makes us question how we ended up placing our eyes in the same direction of all the people out there, but you and I know damn well I wanted you to see me and you wanted the same and had to make sure we see us see us,
- -
I already see how it goes,
I start to wonder what you sound like, if your voice picks my soul up from the sky it fell from, mends the wounds and sends me back up faster than the first time I fell for someone like you, someone who took my innocence, someone like me, someone like I used to be, because all it takes is a simple hey and the air from the h as you breathe it out to begin one hell of a ride accompanied by the high pitched tones that follow that reassure a blind man of your smile when you said what you said, a blind man such as I, who claims to see but is awakened every round we meet, almost like I'm offended that you even dared to come back, I know you, what's your name? Who do you think you are? I think I love you. I will never stop loving you, I hate you.
I already see how it goes,
Within those 5 minuites of this and that, we somehow manage to know more about eachother than ourselves, how we lie to ourselves.
I'm afraid of you. I'm terrified of myself around you. Not of who you are, but what you can do to me. Maybe we keep bumping into eachother over and over again like Destiny was just bored of matching ignorance with bliss, gods with prayers, toxcicity with Ross and Rachel and had nothing better to do, because maybe we need to learn to push one another away. But no. We don't, do we?
I already see how it goes.
Your smiles soon turn into longings of who you used to be, your gentle touch as we shake hands for the first time and feel a moment for eternity soon morph into desperation for space. Long story short I blame you and not myself as we pass off putting blades in one another as seeing what's out there, scaring ourselves for the next us we run into.
Look at us confessing our sins, searching for a savior in eyes that soon bleed for the same pair of eyes.
I already see us.
🤯1
gravity
A whimsical descent
Of a far to a further,
A known unknown
To an unknown wager.
Could I keep gambling midair without its company?
A whimsical descent
Of a far to a further,
A known unknown
To an unknown wager.
Could I keep gambling midair without its company?
Scratch a tinted glass heart,
Before it turns into marble on your touch.
Figure me out, translate my silence and words unsaid. Wouldn't you dare?
Before it turns into marble on your touch.
Figure me out, translate my silence and words unsaid. Wouldn't you dare?
I don't understand why we feel the need to disguse it as a metaphorical worldly love that is of the flesh. Maybe, ultimately, all the love references we stick on an alegorical feminine character is in some way a humourous diabolical admittance of the very fact that we don't know that one thing we crave more than anything else and the fear of accepting what we are behind the masks we publicly deny hold us back from putting a name to what we really want. If you ask me, and I had to, I would simply call it a pure hug. Wait, what did you think pure was? I guess maybe I can't. Altough we come close. We reach out with urgency like our lives depend on it, which it actually does and this very fact becomes another line in that list of denials we deny, but we still reach out. Our fingers almost sense how it feels, how she feels, her soft fair body that defys the beauty of logic, the one touch that seems to promise the end of all suffering, the one reunion that whispers welcome home! I've been waiting for you like it's warmer than Azrael's greet, softer than Gabriel's voice, like creation itself is baffled by amusement by it's own creation, hauted by the simplest of the questions, How?, and yet our fingers are still streching, trying to grab it.
Maybe that word I'm looking for might just be Hope.
Maybe that word I'm looking for might just be Hope.
👍1
If mirrors could talk, I would freak out.
O O O O
Promises promises,
The hours where your words shatter to pieces of my fears and a matter of times,
Not terrified, but of the fact that I don’t want to be proven right
by myself.
Promises, Promises,
How the irony plunges through the irony,
you were her but now your own words defeat
you. The one with me.
Promises, Promises,
How you are a gentle reminder of the heartaches I miss,
But I miss the point of this, of your kisses and smile,
the real one.
Promises, Promises,
Your eyes show but you deny,
You say you would but then you hide,
You show a road you know by heart
then trip and fall before the trip began.
He freaks out.
O O O O
Promises promises,
The hours where your words shatter to pieces of my fears and a matter of times,
Not terrified, but of the fact that I don’t want to be proven right
by myself.
Promises, Promises,
How the irony plunges through the irony,
you were her but now your own words defeat
you. The one with me.
Promises, Promises,
How you are a gentle reminder of the heartaches I miss,
But I miss the point of this, of your kisses and smile,
the real one.
Promises, Promises,
Your eyes show but you deny,
You say you would but then you hide,
You show a road you know by heart
then trip and fall before the trip began.
He freaks out.
👍1
Maybe I was talking to myself when this thought came up.
"Maybe I should give my heart to anyone who has loved me the longest." until I realized all the gray hair I would grow before that happened.
Yes, that was a theoretical assumption made possible by keen observation.
What did I mean when I said you loved me the longest?
When your heart was peaking through curtains and your mind came out to play?
Did you hear duration or did I start a new game?
What did you see when I grew out grey hair, a harmless wolf stuck on a loop of misery and despair or did you see me fighting to break time and see how much of myself I have to spare.
What went through your body when I said the word love? Really? Unconditional Love?
"Maybe I should give my heart to anyone who has loved me the longest." until I realized all the gray hair I would grow before that happened.
Yes, that was a theoretical assumption made possible by keen observation.
What did I mean when I said you loved me the longest?
When your heart was peaking through curtains and your mind came out to play?
Did you hear duration or did I start a new game?
What did you see when I grew out grey hair, a harmless wolf stuck on a loop of misery and despair or did you see me fighting to break time and see how much of myself I have to spare.
What went through your body when I said the word love? Really? Unconditional Love?
Suddenly I found myself somewhere I was too small to matter, gave my heart to something that can end me, even with all the doubt. My legs held back from resisting and stopped looking for reasons. I was still, for a while and saw the real me for the first time and yet, we knew eachother and I never wanted to leave again, I found my answers in silence.
To my unknown.
June 8, 2020
I wish to know why my words come out as advise or maybe why you hear them that way, because I speak what I am able to say overthinking every choice of word I make.
I wish you could see my thoughts, let you know the prayers going through me, not because I believe in a majestic entity but because they are a part of who I am, lost in their fantasy, in my own way.
I wish I could love you without holding back, make you feel how much you're worth to me, to see my love settled in through your eyes, to cross my fingers with yours, kiss you, wrap you with whatever is left of my body and make you feel less alone, but I fear it might be what I want.
So I just choose to want to let you be..
But I hear your lap calling my ears to come home.
June 8, 2020
I wish to know why my words come out as advise or maybe why you hear them that way, because I speak what I am able to say overthinking every choice of word I make.
I wish you could see my thoughts, let you know the prayers going through me, not because I believe in a majestic entity but because they are a part of who I am, lost in their fantasy, in my own way.
I wish I could love you without holding back, make you feel how much you're worth to me, to see my love settled in through your eyes, to cross my fingers with yours, kiss you, wrap you with whatever is left of my body and make you feel less alone, but I fear it might be what I want.
So I just choose to want to let you be..
But I hear your lap calling my ears to come home.
😢1
Feeling kinda conflicted, the wanderer wants to be and I happen to be in the way.
Its when the voices start to whisper the road the doubt for sanity comes along. You think you finally understood the metaphors, angels, thoughts, that feeling in your chest and maybe even what is beyond your breath if you’re clam enough but its a matter of the next step you make before it all disappears like it never even made sense in the beginning. Some questions are not meant to be answered but should be asked regardless, because sometimes...the questions could be the answers we’re looking for or just hiding within.
Aug2020
Aug2020