The Old Soul’s Lonely Walk

‪#‎TBT‬ : I just found a poem I wrote when I was 15.

I don’t think I ever shared this one with anyone.

When I occasionally dig into my journals from the past, I am struck by how much I am living almost exactly the life I saw before myself as a kid and teenager.

I often forget what my inner world was like when I was much younger and reading this poem this morning tickled my feeling of fate. As if my life is merely the construction of a blueprint set before birth. With my greatest strength born in its faith and my deepest depression born in its doubt.

“Man is supposed to be the maker of his destiny. It is only partly true. He can make his destiny, only in so far as he is allowed by the Great Power.”
– Mahatma Gandhi

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UNTITLED

I am picky
…I am left to solitude
I am enlightened
…I am a precocious phony
I am smart
…I am condescending
I am gregarious
…I am annoying
I am stoical
…I am boring
I am quixotic
…I am a know-it-all
I am left ephemeral glimpses of success
While I combat the next failure
In triumph I only find misery
Daunting as they become increasingly harder
Confusion as to how they arose
How am I not myself?
I try desperately to rip a whole in the blanket of normality
Sickened that the only way is to stand on its shoulders
I climb alone
Lost on a journey looking for companionship
So demanding is society to fit the mold of public acceptance
Betrayal to become it, loss of identity
Enjoying being trapped in the box
Scornfully staring at the few who dare to challenge
The sky is the limit
But to those in the box the limit is the ceiling, no more than six feet above their head
Left to drown in my solitude
I must accept it or conform to what I hate
A world of hypocrisy
A mind taught not to think for itself
An enjoyable outcome is hard to come by when you must invent it yourself
Exhaustion clouds my thoughts and ideals
A try to mix and match in a world of black white
I am a blurry haze to the colorblind
I am a contradiction of love and hate
My idiosyncrasies are used for leverage to knock me down and boast normality
A gap is created
One I do not enjoy
I search for a middle ground but find only empty space
Floating in nothingness I find peace
Short lived for I find I am bored
Lost for words I cannot express my feelings
I am stuck looking for hope
Seeing signs of happiness though fleeting
I find myself chasing my tail
Repeating yet not knowing why
As do other I crave though others
But unlike many I crave two different worlds
And yet I can have neither
Its have if people can see straight through me and not see sincerity
Yet being completely oblivious to any realization why
And I am left with the word “No”
And a trail of foot steps leading off into the distance

A Rap About Sticking Your Neck Out

Here’s another little experiment:

I turned one of my statuses into a rap.

I’d love to learn a little more music theory as it was hard for me to figure out how to match lyrical flow with the beat with anything other than uniform regularity.

Why did I make this?

It’s cross training for my voice and ego.

Writing, speaking, singing, rapping and putting oneself out there in a variety of formats is great cross training for my impending future.
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Lyrics:
Just so it’s clear, in poetic outlook
I get a lot of shit for how I show up on Facebook
The effect grates on me like I’m preparing to cook
You think I’m talking wrong but it’s not in the good book

The wear and tear is not easy to bear
But I will not quit and send a flare into the air
Because heaven blessed me when I slept in its lair
You’re the slow and steady Tortoise and I’m the boastful Hare

But this time I will not sleep in the middle
I’m too hungry now and your heart is too little
I lapped you in the race and you’re my lovely second fiddle
We’re One Ocean dawg and you’re just a smaller ripple

I will not die a death of a thousand cuts
All y’all come at me and slice me in the gut
Everytime I’m knocked down I keep getting up
You can’t chain me down because I give zero fucks

Social Media Neck Out

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Just so it’s clear, in poetic outlook…

I’ve received a lot shit for my writing on Facebook

The effect is grating, like a chef preparing to cook

It wears on me a little bit, Disappoints me a little bit, Hurts me a little bit

But I will not quit

I will not die a death of a thousand cuts

I am molding myself into a Warrior who can get stabbed in the gut

And still walk with an indomitable strut

I welcome the opportunity of intensifying the feeling

Of trying to get pushed off my life purpose

Like hooking a shark with a fishing pole, you’re not strong enough, keep reeling

I understand how people let their friends, family and a myriad of social pressures

Compel them back to “acceptable behavior” and conventional measures

How one chooses to react to my writing style reveals a lot about our connection

I urge you now to make your self-selection

Because my flame will only continue to burn brighter

When my temperature inevitably goes higher

Do you want to run away or hold me tighter?

Do we resonate? Are you we in it for the long haul? Are you in or you out?

If we’re not aligned, make it clear now

So I can conserve my precious water and turn right on the spout

Or drink my water, hold my hand and let’s let out a scream and a shout

And show the whole world what the fuck we’re about

Reading My Poem: Triggers

Reading my Poem: Triggers

Experimenting with new Creative Expression:

Here’s a recording of me reading a poem I wrote this morning.

I was channeling some of my fast tongued rap idols, so I recommend reading along with the lyrics below.

Lyrics:

Learn to love your Triggers.
Frequently originating from Incomplete Parental Figures.
For they are the keys to the doors of your Shadow Side.
The taming of the Horse, giving your Mind a Wild Ride.
Open the doors wide and let the Light Shine In.
Let the Love Flow In.
And your Higher Self will be Awakening.
Your Self-Contraction Forsakening.
Grabbing life by the horns now.
All of life for the Takening.
Heart Blown Open.
Giving birth to a new you, Laboring.
Savoring, Reality’s Wholeness Radiating into your skin like Sun Rays.
Baking in.
Sitting on the Throne of your Life, Reigning In.
Showering the World with your Presence.
You came to Win.

 

Getting Triggered

What do you do when you get triggered by people and things in life?

How do you feel about getting triggered?

Do you feel like someone or the world has done you wrong?

Would you rather not get triggered?

Here is my on demand poetic answer to the questions…

Inspired by the flow of Nicki Minaj and Lil Wayne in my ear this week

And their lyrical impressions…

Mind candy, loving their wordly brilliance, delectable selections.

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Learn to love your Triggers.

Frequently originating from Incomplete Parental Figures.

For they are the keys to the doors of your Shadow Side.

The taming of the Horse, giving your Mind a Wild Ride.

Open the doors wide and let the Light Shine In.

Let the Love Flow In.

And your Higher Self will be Awakening.

Your Self-Contraction Forsakening.

Grabbing life by the horns now.

All of life for the Takening.

Heart Blown Open.

Giving birth to a new you, Laboring.

Savoring, Reality’s Wholeness Radiating into your skin like Sun Rays.

Baking in.

Sitting on the Throne of your Life, Reigning In.

Showering the World with your Presence.

You came to Win.

Dying Into Truth

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This morning I was discussing philosophy with my Greek Philosopher Soul-Brother, Alexandros Pagidas.

He shared with me some Beautiful Wisdom and Wit from the only and only Friedrich Nietzsche, on how Pain and Suffering transforms one into a True Philosopher, more deeply in touch with Life’s Sweetest Spiritual Nectar.

Here is a brief poem I just composed on my own journey to Truth through the deathly valleys of pain and suffering. Nietzsche’s quote to follow.

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DYING INTO TRUTH

I know this process all too well

I am a Phoenix

I have been consumed many times in the Fires of Death

Depressed, supplying the Evolutionary Function of Deep Rest

Psychological brushfire burning Overgrown Forests in my Mind

My last chapter was supposed to bear more fruit, I have only the rind

Born anew

Paradoxically Cleansed

Being imbued with only Indestructible Diamonds of Deeper Truth.

Awake to a Reality so Pure it cannot be Touched

One must merely learn to Scrub off the Rust

Of the Mirror of Awareness that is Always Reflecting Radiant Light

Infusing the Soul with Bodhisattvic Might.

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Quote from Friedrich Nietzsche:

“You see that I do not want to take leave ungratefully from that time of severe sickness whose profits I have not yet exhausted even today. I am very conscious of the advantages that my fickle health gives me over all robust squares. A philosopher who has traversed many kinds of health, and keeps traversing them, has passed through an equal number of philosophies; he simply cannot keep from transposing his states every time into the most spiritual form and distance: this art of transfiguration is philosophy. We philosophers are not free to divide body from soul as the people do; we are even less free to divide soul from spirit. We are not thinking frogs, nor objectifying and registering mechanisms with their innards removed: constantly, we have to give birth to our thoughts out of our pain and, like mothers, endow them with all we have of blood, heart, fire, pleasure, passion, agony, conscience, fate, and catastrophe. Life – that means for us constantly transforming all that we are into light and flame – also everything that wounds us; we simply can do no other. And as for sickness: are we not almost tempted to ask whether we could get along without it? Only great pain is the ultimate liberator of the spirit”

Only great pain, the long, slow pain that takes its time – on which we are burned, as it were, with green wood – compels us philosophers to descend into our ultimate depths and to put aside all trust, everything good-natured, everything that would interpose a veil, that is mild, that is medium – things in which formerly we may have found our humanity. I doubt that such pain makes us “better”; but I know that it makes us more profound.

..,out of such long and dangerous exercises of self-mastery one emerges as a different person, with a few more question marks – above all with the will henceforth to question further, more deeply, severely, harshly, evilly, and quietly than one had questioned heretofore. The trust in life is gone: life itself has become a problem. Yet one should not jump to the conclusion that this necessarily makes one gloomy. Even love of life is still possible, only one loves differently. It is the love for a woman that causes doubts in us.

The attraction of everything problematic…is so great in.. more spiritualized men that this delight flares up again and again like a bright blaze over all the distress of what is problematic, over all the danger of uncertainty… We know a new happiness.”