LEIGH FWD >>
>>
Hmmm
Sophia.
The way her words cut through noise danced loudly in the ears of the silenced.
She pulsed the possibility of possibility, waking up a hope that had been put to rest – nudging along the thought that life could be seen by the eyes of the mouths that don’t get to be heard.
Shhh don’t interrupt, such beauty in her ranting and raving to the beat of believing that we can all be free. Raw and ripped open truth smiling behind her every single syllable.
She is someone who takes good care of the world and listens to its heartbeat. Not quite a doctor but she can sense that we are sick. That we’re paralyzed by the power that postures us as different. Completely blinded by the fact that we are all the same.
For those that cannot speak like her, her voice is a vibration. A declaration that the time to heal, to feel, to lead with love is now. She’s sonar from the source, raising all our senses and opening our souls to the chance that one day, we’ll fly high along her grace.
For that, they’ll pay attention. Impatiently waiting for the secrets to be exposed in between the layers of her breath – counting the seconds that for the first time in a long time, the miracle of life can be called back down to Earth.
Life Disguised.
If we’re honest about this process
Life is caught in a lie
It’s air, disguised as water
Yet we fight to swim or die
Follow the current and hold your breath to stop from drowning
Air disguised as water
The rouse that keeps us pounding
The waves that’ll come crashing time and again
And if you don’t see them passing
Well, nice knowing you my friend
But Hey, It’ll be okay !
It’s just a few more strokes
Air disguised as water
It’s the twistiest hoax
Because wait for a second
The part that hounds us the most
This life of constant motion
Just to stay afloat
They keep our limbs flailing to fight off the depth
But it’s AIR disguised as WATER
So we can stop to take a breath
We can go with the flow
Or aim to get high
Sure swim if you want
But know you can fuck off and fly
The truth comes to shore when you’re the truest to you
Maybe air wants to be water
What do you want to do?
Everything. Nothing.
We get what we want when we want it
We seek what we sought then we saw it
We like what we like so we bought it
They thought what they thought so they taught it
How’d we get so caught up in this vomit?
Like life’s not a gift blessed upon us?
We fill to feel full but we’re drowning
To die death before life, never found it
Big Self.
Taking shrooms in the dark on a Thursday Night
Stoned up with my thoughts, oh it’s Wednesday that’s right
But oh hey
It doesn’t matter cause
All the people here tonight
Are either dead, half drunk or up for a fight
Oh wait
All those people are me
I guess I’m more than I see
They ask me what I believe
To be true
To be real
To be right
They ask me about that time
On a Thursday Wednesday night
Oh wait
They've got a lot more to say
I stall time to paint
Strokes of blue, strokes of white, beams of radiant light
I can mute the voices when I block out their sight
But they’ll speak
They speak to me where I see
And you wouldn’t believe
I see forces of you and your electric skies
I see your laugh I see your soul I see your big dumb smile
It’s you
Keeping all eyes on me
Remember.
Home home home
Home of the depraved
How could we not remember?
Why we all became
Eager to come down here
To feel the world and all it’s bruises
Flailing around with doubt for limbs
Because we let the world confuse us
Wake up wake up wake up
You know what’s it like to be golden
To set the beauty of life at your feet
Knowing love is all that needs holding
You are you are you are
Here for a divine of reasons
A contract made lifetimes ago
Don't punish yourself for believing
Explain It To My Baby.
They build up walls
so we tip over tables
They call them laws
but they sound like fairy fables
Can you help me I’m lost in this mad broken Earth
What’s it gonna cost?
To see all that it's worth
Can you
explain it to my baby?
I can’t find the words that make sense…
Will you
spell it out for her clearly?
This mess is going over my head.
This shits confusing baby.
So men can take their nipples out but women put them away?
We can sell our bods for clout but not if they're willing to pay?
Please someone help me out
I have a lot of questions
Is anyone else feeling all of this tension?
Can you
explain this to my baby?
I can’t find the words that make sense
Will you
spell it out for her clearly?
This mess is going over my head
This world's confusing baby.
I'm so sorry baby.
Internal Love.
Blood soaked sheets on the bed of my brain
My heart in a vice
My smile from pain
Your tongue on my lungs
Got me feeling a way
Like a little KIDney
For the taste of your soul
My legs no longer walk
My hands forgot to hold
My body flailing from limb to limb
I guess this is what it's like to love
From the outside, in.
Interview With A Tea Kettle.
Hey Kettle baby won’t you spill the tea?
[The dill is with the pepper and the salts on her knees]
Tell me Kettle, sweetie what’s the hottest you’ve got?
[Pre-heated down below while the lid is on top]
But why Kettle honey do you smoke while you come?
[Well how else ya silly dummy would you know I was done?}
Irony.
I saw a video of a car that could change colors instantly using tiny light sensitive plastic papers
Right as I almost tripped over a child, asleep on the street
Self Worth.
Tie her up and spit at her
Toss her to the trees
What’s a woman anyway?
Without her mouth out on her knees?
Be careful what you say to her
The words in songs and stories
For when she starts believing them
She’s stripped of all her holy glory
Let her be her
Let her be wild
We are all born to be free
Don’t judge her for seeing the sides of herself
The rest of the world can’t see
Not just for the she's
But the he’s, they’s, it's, and them’s
All down here to remember the parts of us
They want us so badly to forget
What Makes.
What makes a bitch rich is above politics
It’s caring and calming and not craving for shit
It’s a walk that stands still, a head that’s held high
It’s smiling at a stranger
A long kiss goodbye
What makes the world cool is one simple rule
It’s being the being that you’d want being for you
It’s a kind for no reason, a respect for this Earth
It’s loving life for free
Knowing your own worth
Why we’re so mad is because we’re so sad
Not having the answers we all want so bad
I’m here to tell you the answers are not what we’re missing
It’s the questions we’re asking that’ll forever keep us guessing.
From The Sky.
How can anything fall from the sky
If we refuse to look up or even go outside?
This miracle of life we live
All seen through the eyes of a screen
Too afraid to look away
For the fear of feeling free
But it’s not so scary, this world’s not all that bad
In fact it’s so fucking fascinating when you look beyond the fads
To the trees
To the soil
To the species
That breathe and live amongst us
All down here at the same time
To show us where we really come from
Win The Game.
I’ve got a game, here’ hows you play
It’s called imagine you are not you for a day
Today, you’re a child
Cold, alone on the street
Nowhere to go, holed shoes on your feet
You’re starving and bored and missing a bath
But you never knew good, so it’s not all that bad
Until you catch a glimpse of a clip through a screen
They’re serving the most mouth watering meal
Your eyes ever seen
Five judgers take a fork and scoop up a taste
Then spit it back out and throw the rest away
Can you imagine? The madness that would boil your mind?
A cold hungry child, a gluttonous mankind
The meaning of course, this games not so fun
Especially when not one of us has won
Let’s do a bit better, rewrite the rules
Teach a lesson on what it’s like to be cool
I’ve got an idea, and think before you knock it
Let's lead with our hearts and not with our pockets
The POINT.
We’re here to be uncomfortable. To be misplaced in a space that’s far from home. To follow the clues of the world that surround us and find our way back to the start, that’s your heart.
We’re here to be curious. To wander, love and feel the earth beneath us. Stare at a flower, swing on a swing and let the wind wash over your human form, that’s your body.
We’re here to be romantic. To find passion in the gift this life could be. To get closer to the ones we recognize in the stars and vibrate the sensation of meaningful connection, that’s your soul.
We’re here to be restored. To bring this experience back to the core. To press restart on a world that could have been more and strip away all we’ve built and let it become what it is, that’s your joy. >>
I Wonder.
I wonder, wonder, wonder
What this world would do
If everyone, everywhere, all at once
Suddenly knew the truth
I ponder, ponder, ponder
Like all the live long days
If I'm the only one that hears from her
And listens to what she says
I wander, wander, wander
At a pace that spreads her words
So far I know I'm not alone
I've got the wind, the trees, the birds
Okay.
Most times I don’t walk, I buzz.
My energy is running at such a frequency that I can feel my limbs place me
into the positions they need me to be.
I’m out of control.
Other times I feel dumb.
My mind is working at an algorithm processing all of the possibilities
of the way this world can be.
But maybe those are just possibilities that are impossible to see.
I’m going insane.
Sometimes Im just like stop.
Stop fucking thinking all the fucking time about the hearts of the beings
and the he / she / they / them humankind,
But I can’t.
I can’t stop.
I can’t unsee what’s become so clear.
A world walking around like robots, programmed to live a life of love out of fear.
Fear of being judged shamed ridiculed and poked
Getting fat and making money buying things going broke
What’s your social status? What kind of people do you fuck?
Fear of making something great
And being told that it sucks
Fear of war and famine and control and coward and greed.
Fear of goddess women with more power than they need.
Fear of being loved. Way down deep into your core.
What’s so scary about being seen for who you really are?
A divinity. A saint. An angel from the stars.
You’re made from holy magic that beams even through your scars.
No. This time I won’t stop.
I’ll keep my heart pounding, mind shouting , body flailing at this rapid pace.
Doing anything to remind you how you fell from galactic grace.
&Next time when it gets to be a bit too much
I’ll just grab onto my limbs for something to touch
I’ll take a deep breath, and with an exhale I’ll say
…
Okay.
Okay. Okay. Okay.
Boxes.
We string letters together to make us feel better about the boxes we create
All the G-A-Y’s please step inside while the others line up straight
Excuse me Miss Wie heisst du?
Who do you fuck and where are you from?
I can’t tell your letters based on that sweater...
and the confusion makes me feel dumb.
Because of your hair I bet you’re from there but
hmmm your voice is so small
U? K? U? S? of A?
N-O, nein no judgment at all >
I just need to know what box you’re in – so I can make the call
Should I love you, hate you, kiss you or fight you?
L-O-L Do you know so and so from LA?
I get the sense that they’re a bit gay too, you’d get along just great.
Well to that I say UP Yours, your questions and your boxes…
I broke my down long ago and now live wherever my rock is.
I’m from where we’re all from .. One Mother from the Stars
Let’s stop arranging letters and start connecting hearts.
POP.
Six pm.
Or as some would clock it: 18:14 uhr -
The time on the microwave is still blinking because
I forgot to shut the door after the last popcorn explosion with the oil on the floor.
How often is one meant to clean their microwave?
What if it’s not yours?
What if the mess you made is just a metaphor for the microwave door
and the oil on the floor and this is really just a poem about things that go pop…
Like my mind, my heart, my gum, my sockets …
*POP*
Here’s one – how about the fairy tale holy calamity thought bubble
I’ve carried over my head this entire existence –
Go to work Cindarelly
Wear this dress Cindarelly
Make the money Cindarelly
Be like the people Cindarelly
Only for a welcomed yet uninvited life needle to take to its underbelly and
*POP*
Both of its sides like a Quentin Tarantino samurai scene
that makes you cringe into your blankets and cover up your eyes –
Sometimes I wish I was the one who had the idea for Missy Elliot
to put her famous lyric in reverse.
At Least they did what they said they were going to do and
put their thang down, flipped it and reversed it.
Those were both POP culture references
from another bubble that I’ve recently popped.
The celebrities, the gossip, the riches, the poor.
The must haves and have nots and whoooo paid the price for that “high fashion” couture.
*POP*
&How about all of my exes?
Who each gets their own bubble because well sex is…
Pop, pop, pop and pop… I’ve got no more room for your hexes.
Okay maybe sometimes popping can be fun.
Clearing away life’s things that just need to be done.
A POP for racism, power and greed
Three pops for the human that takes more than it needs.
A POP for oppression, control and self-doubt
A POP for judgment… at any amount..
A pop for the thinking that you're not more than you are
A spiritual being living life born from the stars
But what do I know, I’m tired and sore…
Alone cleaning the microwave oil up from the floor…
VICES.
It’s a hip hop hooray for all of my vices.
My habits,
My kinks,
My mezcal, two ices.
Espresso - three shots.
Four on a day I want to be dancing from the inside.
When my heart wants to waltz with my lungs and tango down my spine.
And if you dare put a cookie on the side of that cup, I swear I won’t ask if it’s vegan …
I’ll just shut the f^ck up.
I’ll dip that sucker in the sludge piping hot...
Are we dancing yet?
Okay, one more shot.
And then it’s ALOHA Marijuanaaa –
My baby, you come whenever you wanna.
Your leaves planted in dreams heal my traumas.
Mary Jane, Marry Me, Holy Mama.
And Ya, I like to have sex –
But let’s give it up once more for the Ghanja.
For without her, I’d be a long goner –
And isn’t that why we develop these vices?
To silence the thoughts in our heads that have such loud voices -
To shrug off and defend our “questionable choices”.
Those aren’t my eyes between your thighs in the corner of the bar.
They belong to 4 Pinot Noirs and some nicotine tar.
Some other vices that help me bandage the scars.
No judgment but no needles — well, maybe.
When I’m 80.
But for now I’ve had enough pricks.
One of the main reasons why all of my vices stick.
And f^ck, I wish I were done but these vices go on and on…
They take me up, they take me down,
They scratch their claws into the prints of my bed sheets.
They have Justin Bieber dance parties and love to live on the edge of wherever my lips meet.
And shit, it’s a good thing I pierced my nose…
'Cause who’s to say where else these vices may go.
But with love, I’m not complaining.
I am so thankful they exist.
How else can we rid this shackled world
and fly around like birds unclipped?
And I know, I know all too well – addiction is a fickle bitch.
The habits we form to scratch the itch, get out of the ditch, help in a pinch…
But I believe she lives on a spectrum -
Fueled less by the vices to escape and more by what we run from.
These vices, they’re our armor.
What we use to make us feel good…some days, even great.
They’re an excuse to use my new favourite word.
They help us “dissipate”
Our fears
Our feelings
Our emotions
Our grief
They drown out this misspent version of life we’re led to believe.
And if used wisely, I’d even argue the case…
That the vices we vice are just a vase.
Used to protect and serve all of the flowers we bloom,
when the world makes us think that there’s not enough room.
Another poet, another pen, another song to sing along -
Our vices make us feel like we can belong.
If not just for a moment
If not just for a high
I’d rather f^ck with a vice, than f^ck this world dry.