Thursday, December 17, 2009

I Am Lightning, Being

hatred comes in many righteous forms
ignorance arrives in many intelligent responses
folly emerges through many functional mannerisms
violence hides within many polite conversations

and while all these subtle and blantant destructions
of the soul's innate understanding of itself
distort true
clarity of mindfulness,
horrors continually manifest
through the good intentions of such deluded idealistic foundations,
while love's true meaning and wisdom is abandoned
for the hype
of plentiful spiritual materialists' facades

in the moment one judges, one has temporarily lost the way...
so in the moment one erects an excuse to dismiss another,
for continuities sake, in the intention of wholeness, i wonder,
what has been denied?
i push, i pull, i deny, i love, i hate,
i am human,
and of these
actions and reactions,
i breathe in and out making mistakes and letting victories be declared
i rise and fall like the tides upon distant shores where my misunderstandings roamed
under the illusions of freedom.

here is existence,
the grandeur and simplicity of unconscious
facets of Being,
perceptions passed around like confusion and despair,
passion and lust,
hopes and fears,
when truth denied
becomes angry it is no longer truth
and so truth is still denied...

we may enter into relationships,
hoping to rest our weary load
upon one another,
how is it
find in seconds
reasons to blame...
what is that game?

the quickening of responses
hiding our shame
within the historical folds vieling an other's cloak,
we spite as our own,
and yet
excuse ourselves within the void of our expectations unfulfilled,
cursing the other
with false hopes
of a love
we did not believe in to begin with...


an artist naked before the mirror of my prose
i see myself in
putting dorian grey to sleep,
so i tuck in my denial with a kiss
when i lay my filtered head to rest,
praying before a digital witness
we will meet again
as today
was yesterday
as now
for then,
so we can break down,
and begin this exploration anew...

am i ever truly awake?

in my dreams there is no sense of falseness
for there is no normality left
to discount the phenomena of my perceptions,
there are no laws to limit my extrsensory experience of surreal environs,
i do not doubt
what may be or what may not be,
for all

here, asleep typing,
i do not suffer the inconsequential meanderings of idle complacency,
i devour the tapestry of creationary self,
where no more choking on the fibers of my subconscius weave
need i imagine nor fear,
as i multi-task
this love

what of objectivity?
are we so busy
sewing patterns to dress the soul?
naked i was,
naked i will be...
the mental dictionary of our programming
some never bother to question the publisher of

they look out at the world and they look inside,
and they say the sky is blue and full of clouds
as the lightning i am strikes 6:54
because that is what their predefined world
has given them with which to cognitize this experience;

they say they are hungry and so their belly must be empty
because that is what they have been told
is the appropriate and necessary response
when they feel whatever that is which we overfed many label as

they say they are of light, love, and compassion,
because they 'know' they care,
and their caring is predefined for them by those who supposedly cared before them;

and so everywhere they
see me go
there are road signs along the Way,
some kind of Idealistic grafitti
like collective tags dotting the transportation systems of self righteous responses
labeling within and without
seemingly definite,
so stable in our presentation of realities' predefined evidence,
these territorial pissings of perception...

yet what does such a mind know of reality or of itself?

in strength there is weakness untold
in weakness there is strength yet to unfold
who is to say which is which

like moths to a flame
some come for truth looking to be inspired
but really they seek to blame
their love a set up from the start
{lightning strikes}

i am that
now i am this
elemental force seeking ground,
gone beyond diction
without poise
coiled and undulating across a metaphorical ocean
an outcaste serpent of electricity
temporarily as bright as the sun
my flashfire of a Son
seering the tail feathers of the winged thing i once was
and shall become,
for when i am done
i am begun...

i am done

{Written by Shen Orion}

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