In the beginning
I suppose we all started
with the best of intentions
at least, I can say this is true
in most cases.
Or, so
I hope.
But teacher, I am Trying (My Best)
1)
Silly kids . . .
It is really no point in
reviving the arguments
or fighting the fights
just to keep them alive
when essentially
they mean nothing.
Literally . . .
. . . nothing.
But Teacher, I am trying (My Best)
One became two
and two became four
and so on
and somehow,
age takes place
and here I am now
much older than I am younger.
One by one,
the world turns around the sun
another time.
But Teacher, I am Trying (My Best)
Verse 1:
The concept of last night
means everything and anything
to me.
This entails anything that
I can dream about
which means that anything and everything
is within my reach.
But then again
hindsight is always perfect
especially, after the aftermath
unfolds.
But Teacher, I am trying (my best)
Please Note:
This journal will be written more as an artform or in different forms of poetry. Either way, all of my entries will come from my streams of consciousness.
No thoughts to the words.
No acting or pretending.
Just writing.
Just words from the heart.
That’s all.
I feel this; therefore, I’ll write this.
And this is my plan.
All For More (Or Less)
Today is the day that I put an end to this.
I am done with the lunatics in my head and done with all else that distracts me from who I am or who I choose to be.
There are nights when I have dreams and I am faced with the younger version of myself.
I see this clearly.
I see the way I was and how I behaved. or I might see a place that I used to go to.
Sometimes I see the places where I used to hide.
And I wonder . . .
I wonder what life might have been if I decided to go on my own instead of trying to be someone else.
And then I wonder about who I am now and who was I meant to be.
Is this it?
All For More (Or Less)
When you escape the fact that no one is coming to save your life, and when you realize that your freedom can only be claimed by you, then you have no other choice but to save your own life.
You have to do this without exception.
And, if you are broken, then you are already broken. The only thing you can do is either get back up and start to repair yourself, or remain on the ground, lay still and become dust, or stay broken and be left behind.
All For More (Or Less)
Your last role in the toxic playground amazes me. This is not to say that you are toxic or that you and I are toxic together.
No, I have no place or position to point fingers at anyone and nor do I have the right to judge or condemn.
Let me say this, when it comes to playing the game of life at this level, and when we talk about being toxic or toxic people, it seems to me that our choices came from a place that caused us to either do or accept the unacceptable things.
All For More (Or Less)
The sun came up from the east as usual this morning. I dreamt about the horizon and how the underbelly held the colors of sunrise.
I love these moments. They are limited by number, but beautiful nonetheless.
I love the early mornings when the heavens above are laced with scattered clouds, all powdery and stretched out like the feathers of an Angel’s wings
These things are beautiful—the soft pastel colors of morning in the sky, a gentle breeze that feels kind when the wind blows against my face, and the view we see of our Loving Mother, Mother Earth.
I love it this way—a good, quiet morning.
Perfect.
All For More (Or Less)
These notes to myself from my prison cell have helped. But I am still lost and my defense has yet to get off the ground.
I have appealed to the process is killing me
(slowly)
I hate this real fiction business.
But it is what it is.
