Immaterial heaven of my living self

I will wait in patience 

Until that which was unknown becomes apparent

And until prayers and destiny reach their verdict

 no rush, I’m happy as I am.
Unfortunately what’s best is that time be taken for clarity

For both cases to be solved and given their due burials

 And toss away our last living flowers of the past into it’s casket for cremation

After all, this ambiguity is well-wishing. Although it leaves huge gaping holes in my heart, I must accustom myself to the ice cool breeze willowing through this freshly carved cave

Perhaps one day it’ll become as magnificent and jeweled as the worlds oldest caves.

It’ll become my castle, my sanctuary of ever flowing hopes and dreams. Pure tears from the valley of my eyes, furnishing mirrored stalagmites of sincere desires.

Reflecting the years of sabr  

and dedication, and the serene streams of honesty meandering through and through.

This is my artwork, this is my treasure, which no eye has seen.

And it’s all carefully crafted by my patience, sincerity, and destiny.

This is the immaterial heaven of my living self.

The throne of my mind-palace. 

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my nose is caught high on a hook

The pain of thought would have diminished as the excess scent of incense blows away,   leaving the gentle aroma behind.
Instead, I have now tainted my feet and must allow it to heal, as well as to let my hardened tongue to soften and stop oozing the puss of angst and pride.
my nose is caught high on a hook, I’m a display of arrogance and humiliation.
I’ve exhausted my soul of proper recompense, I can only move on to tell myself the tall tale of my belligerence.
Complaining leads to further damnation

It’s when the thorns outgrow and envelope the rose of patience and light.
Taking away the sweet fragrance of forbearance and experience, further expelling the ungrown seeds of wisdom.
Had I been patient and silent, I wouldnt have burned my feet on a road of hot black asphalt, only to find a thorny dead end.
Sometimes, we take our privilege to such an extent that it destroys us.

An Answer (a cycle of victim-blaming)

Finally gotten the opportunity to find an answer

But before receiving an answer, there has to be a question

How can there be a question if the problem can’t be named

The problem appears invisible, as you’re the only witness

It’s hard to prove the facts when you’re the only evidence

As the evidence is you, unchanged, unmoved, still in place, frozen in a state of permanence

the problem appears to be you

Questions are refuted to you

You are the fault

So now take the salt

Answer the question

that you brought into creation

Because you’re the one who complained

You’re the one who cried

you’re the one who stood apart

so face this disgrace and comply

for trying to escape your space

stand back in place

the ace is in my hand

i’m the one in command

A universe in yourself

Beautiful, benign, and benevolent

graceful, divine, and genuine

Flaws and all, you’re a concoction of perfection

the cosmic radiance in each beat of your heart

the endless galaxies in your eyes that can see more than art

Your life, your wishful soul- a personality that none other can capture

All that lulls and dulls, it’s just the ingredients for you to retain claim of yourself

Forgetful, messy,

quirky and dressy

These are your traits that help you be free.

We are all games for ourselves, we’re all perfect in who we are

it’s just that we must keep up with these traits

and continue to discover what else is in our plates.

As we open more gates and face our fates

it’s then that our turn is ours to roll

the dice  that is in our own control

it’s our choice to remain perfect

and it’s our choice to regress in defect

So what will it be?  Mark a tally of hate on our slate

or a mark of congruence and continuation

in our growth and perfect

creation?

 

 

 

 

resilience and tea

just had a sob attack.  an angry teary hangry attack. a half eaten brownie that was for me, triggered it (i was looking forward to it the whole night to have it for bf). I still have to go through my divorce thing and i have to find the right lawyer.  If i could, if I can, I’d get him deported. but it’s not worth the waste of money.  So in my delirious outburst of anger I wrote myself this thing

By God’s mercy

I refuse to let words hurt me
I refuse to let circumstances stop me
I refuse to fall hopeless
I refuse to let my weaknesses detain me
I refuse to fall victim to emotions
I refuse to let people’s abuse consume me
I refuse to let mindsets and corruption make me give up
I refuse to sit down and sob
I refuse to give in
I refuse to stop

By God’s mercy

I refuse to stop.

So then I made my mom a cup of tea.  cuz I left the kettle on as i was balling away

By God’s mercy, the tea saved me from my utter drop.

 

I can. speak

Was I ever in control- wwas I ever in control
when my mouth slips and slurs
when my brain forgets the words
despite my heart knowing exactly which grain of sand
I’m trying to put into another’s hand —
the pain of ushering rush, tongue tied
tight in knots, I know which grain I want to lift up to share, exactly which angle I want the sun’s light to glint and glare, as you wait n stare
What is it that makes me stop and sputter a stutter?  I’m stammering as I’m hammering my thoughts to bring out the diamonds the sapphires the emeralds but lifting the jewels with
Buttered fingers, blushed cheeks
apologetic smile, flushed stiff
cold sweat and jittering streaks I used to stuff toilet paper under my armpits to hide the overwhelming feeling of my feeling like a freak, an adult who doesnt know how to speak–

Nervous and frail I hear my noise..  I say I do know poise,

I do not have my tail between my legs, But this twist and whirling zoom is not tamed on a leash,
How much can I beg myself my self to OWN my self and find the word I know exists, the meaning I know matters the feeling I know is real, and even when that word comes out of the treasure chest I dug out of the marked X that I placed, the one whom I’m in command of- my tongue- decides to hide or my lips miss the signal that it’s time to dismiss another message to the listener I hoped to entertain with my play, my lines, my words, my simple auditory communication,.. now I wonder was I ever in

control

when I became shy and couldn’t say

why

Self-Approval

when will she break open and be free
where her only fear is to not sail the seven seas
how dull and frail she is right now not showing any dignity

stick to your morals I say!
there’s nothing to lose

but nay
she only sways away

I don’t know how to practice those morals
what if I do wrong when I intend right
what if I fail and ..

—And what if you don’t??
there’s no fright I say !
do wrong ! be wronged ! there’s victory in every way

stop your self-menace, allow yourself to accept ur soul

you are you and stuck with it all
so embrace yourself and treat it like a child
care for it like you care for your own
because you yourself
are your own

but by being ur own you’ve earned me and him and her and them
you have friends from being urself
isn’t that enough proof that you can be free and strong?

Go. Leave. break away from your protective armor that blocks ur very sight and oxygen.

let your self live and feel the earth through your fingers. you have nothing to lose but urself from this world