3rd Star to the Left

Ain’t no stoppin’ what can’t be stopped.

Ain’t no rushin’ what comes despite the props.

Stars fade and oceans cease.

But they were here.

So says what they leave.

Maybe if it’s pushed,

Maybe if it’s never quit,

Maybe if it’s faced with that single something more than it,

Forcing itself to allow what it would never before admit,

So it may be embedded in the streams amongst the eternal drifts.

Inside it rests, and inside it shall stay.

Only to release what calls from inside,

Such is the way.

No reasons left to ponder or worry,

Feel the pain that’s held back the truth all along,

Engulfing all the good and promise with fury.

There it is,

Without judgment,

Without hurry.

Without the faults constantly aligned with the gateways to purgatory.

Finding itself glowing as it rides the cool breezes far beyond clouds,

So, celestially.

Writing its story with the grace of its being,

Leaving behind the tale of its powerful heart

Powerfully beating.

 

 

Original X: Bach

 

 

 

Go

Life truly is as a river, flowing, streaming across the vast space of our being. But where it shall take us is not completely set.  If we swim hard even, we can battle even the greatest of torrents, the most powerful of currents.

It is in our spirit the river awaits. It is our will the river follows. Once we choose to go against the river our life truly begins. Once we find our way the river’s flow will guide us further.

It challenges us.  It builds us.  It makes us who we are.  When we’re ready, it takes us the rest of the way.

It may seem the same, our journey’s end.  But the journey itself alters every perception, bringing different acceptance, new content, drifting from what we thought we knew to nothing we’ve ever known at all.

Continuum.  Always appearing the same.  But never the same at all.

 

Original X: Bach

Delicate Man

It’s funny to me, lot’s of things, but this thing in particular I speak of resides in macho.  Macho can make a man more than he is.  And it can make him even less depending on the outcome.  Macho lies and it hollers respect.  It covers true selves and it relishes in intimidation.  People will bow to it.  Others will laugh.  But there’s always a thought of, “Hmmmmmm…..”

Women tend to enjoy it, despite their common laughter and hate sessions supreme….wets their lower dreams.  Hell, I’ve even known a few gals to be more macho than most of the macho fellas out there.  Mean girls.  Mean bitches….excuse my language, pardon my lips.  But they get noticed.  They get marked.  Hard.  Rigid.  Cold.  Cool.  Ain’t one to step to.  Macho.

What is it to be macho?  What is it to place yourself amongst the top of the so called “class” of men too proud to submit to falling, or, at least never revealing how far they fell?  Macho hides behind your back.  Macho is in your face.  Macho Man.  Macho Camacho.  Macho my funkin’ nachos.  Mucho, wait….  More.  More, more, more.  More than he is?  Who’s to say?

Only thy self knows how much more you are.  Well, thy self and the everyday people that see through the transparent wall macho braces against, shadowed in the dark, ready to be broken when the soul can take no more.

Funny thing, macho.  It’s a science of its own.  Shiiiit, I’ve studied, even practiced, once….or twice.  Gotten a lil’ stupid once….or twice.  Been looked at with looks of judgment and stance once…..or twice.  You’d think I’d learn my lessons.  And I have.  I’ve grown.  I’ve become, well, more clear…..

It can be fun though….just sayin’.  Good way to relieve some stress…..just sayin’.  Meat-headin’ that shiz up here and there, from time to time.  Hey, no harm, no foul, right?  Right?  Got a problem with that?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

 

Original X: Bach

 

 

 

For Them

Their echoes come out my throat.

Talkin’ bout the ones who ain’t had a vote.

From the lil ones holdin’ up their hands like “don’t”.

To the aged wisdom wishin’ it could strike a note.

 

Too busy yellin’ for the system wrong.

True people screamin’ for a chance to brawl,

With the ones who done raised this mess,

From the time is was but a stress,

Of one man who saw it fit to put it on another,

His brother, mother, sister or even lover,

Didn’t matter who as long as it gave him no trouble.

 

So in the end it came upon me and you,

While he and the others sat comfortably,

No worry issued.

No reason to argue.

Able to turn their heads to the public,

That they now consider to be lewd,

And corrupted.

Can’t you see it’s because of you?

 

You’re the corrupted with your hearts of greed.

More concerned with your pocketbooks,

Than those in need.

Those that want nothin’ more than a simple “thank you”.

An opportunity to love the life that has been subdued,

By the very life they live with joys simple and few.

 

Hiding behind your masks of smiles,

You sit high on your monetary mounds and peaking piles,

Building more for your riches than for the country,

More for your clutches than for your democracy.

More for yourself while you continue frontin’,

Actin’ as though you give a rat’s ass,

About the people amongst you finishin’ last.

Equality is a joke when you have the doe to cash.

 

Stay snug with your fine wines and linens,

Drink up while they struggle to have an opinion.

Lap it up as you laugh & manipulate your minions.

But don’t be so shocked to see a change.

Strange to think your time will gauge,

The value you yourself take with you to your grave.

To your own entitlement you are your own slave.

 

So, for the young ones without a focus,

Too caught up in knowin’ what’s directly closest,

Push yourselves beyond what you know,

Even if you have no choice but to leave to grow.

 

It’ll trap you.

It’ll use you.

You’ll be forgotten when you could have flew.

Just another swallowed in the belly,

With no one lookin’, no one speakin’, no one carin’.

 

You alone have strength and will,

To do what must be done for the chance to live,

A life worth livin’,

Not one of disappointment, regret, sorrow and guilt.

Don’t feel sorry for things you have done.

Make a change now so you can hold your head to the sun.

 

Run,

Run fast and do not stop.

Don’t let those hold you back,

Who’d rather drag you down with them for sake of havin’ a flock.

No one wants to be alone.

But sometimes it’s then when we realize our true lows,

Come to terms with what we must do and make it so.

 

Rise above where you are,

No matter place or within.

Rise above who you are,

No excuses for succeeding.

Procrastination is the basis for puttin’ your energy in stasis.

And this is the cause of so many failed dreams, failed changes.

We must all fight the whispers in our ears to avoid losin’ ourselves to such mazes,

Paths that will easily occupy the needed years for buildin’ more enlightened engagements.

 

Please, do the right you know within is right.

Fight.

Fight because you, like all, deserve to take flight.

Fight because now is your time.

Fight because you must to survive.

He is not goin’ to help you as you strive.

You alone have what you need,

In heart, soul, body and mind.

 

Blamin’ others, even him, is worthless.

You’ll only be wastin’ precious opportunities and moments.

For even he knows little to this game of chess.

Passed down often are the traits of the ruthless.

Spendin’ less time judgin’ will win you acceptance.

Freein’ yourself of the demons of you will cancel big-headedness.

No one appreciates the attitudes of arrogance.

But a thin line it is between this and confidence.

One you need always, the other can digress.

 

Yes.

All in all,

Ingestin’ the good will make you think less of others’ uncanny fines,

Attemptin’ to belittle and chat of what they do not know all the time.

For in the end you alone are your destiny’s chime.

You alone can make sense of your magnificently unique design.

 

And when you’re there,

Be proud, but stay humble.

Stay honest, hard-working and be thankful.

Reach out your hand to those who you see are half full.

 

For the future needs leaders,

Persons of strength,

Those not afraid to step forward,

Holler guidance, not angst.

Those who can have no fear of those who are themselves only men,

Even if they believe they are more,

Too much given to believe different.

Those who can bring others together,

Stop the solemn tears and quietly forced absence.

Those who can stay true no matter the struggle or pain,

Seeming without weakness despite consequence.

But, even so,

Are human.

And will always with their fellow man reason, listen and connect.

 

It can be you.

Never forget.

It can be you.

Little one far kept.

 

 

Originl X: Bach

 

 

 

 

 

Mind Your Manners

The human mind is a mystery…..sometimes.  There are those occasions we cannot grasp even the simplest of concepts or situations.  There are those moments it just breaks down.  But there are also those times that everything seems to just “click”.  We can almost see things before they even happen.

I recently placed the pieces of a vast puzzle together.  This bender has eaten at me for years.  But then, after waking from a mid-day slumber to rest my weary mind, I awoke with an answer.  It was so utterly elementary.  Yet, it had never dawned on me before.  So simple, so very simple…..

Moments as this are few and far between for most of us.  And I will cherish the knowledge.  However, will I use it?  Because the funny thing about the mind is as fast as it can release an epiphany, it can forget strikes of lighting with even more haste.

So, as much as I would like to retain this, or any great piece of wisdom, with time, likely, it will vanish.  So is the essence of the mind.  So is the trouble with being human.

The mind…..our most powerful resource; and, at the same instance, the source of the repetitive nature that dooms us all for placing in it such trust.  Now that is truly a puzzle, indeed.

 

Original X: Bach

 

 

 

 

 

 

Downpour

Never understood the depressing of the progressing of life.

As skies open wide, so do my eyes, with the tranquil ease of dimly lit scenery.

Calmly, the earth drinks in its ocean cocktail, quenching the thirst of its dried body,

Soaking in the cold liquid from above.

Many look at this process as daunting, cumbersome, even without joy.

But the earth is as us,

Needing hydration,

Relaxation from a cotton-mouthed afternoon.

Condensation is its lover.

And from the two all are born.

Just as I sip my cold brew on an evening adventure,

The earth sips its downpour, so freely drafted from the tap nature,

Ready to slumber after, and later to wake to more labor.

For that I’ll have another.

For that I’ll buy a round.

 

Original X: Bach