raven0us

Shaky. | August 1, 2015


Poetry a must. Have to. Just comes.

Something says I have to say it.

Something says I have to salvage it.

Something forces this lens down my throat again and again.

This mother I love, she meditates & spend so much head space seeing the other’s perspective.

She muses on seeing the bright side.

She apologizes and understands and makes space for men.

As they take space from her.

It’s that dichotomous.

Mother, child.

But I am father too.

And there is a mother in you, full spectrum.

So here is a poem bout some things I see.

Here box on a screen, take these things:

I became unsafe to you

because your comfort needed too much.

You called it safety & health,

but really it was your ego & wealth.

It was never unsafe to reflect me.

Intellect has hindered us.

The cinder was there to resource each other & increase quality time.

But what is the quality of your isolation?

Cleavers (the plant) are like sifters,

sifting gunk,

our goals are junk frankly.

We keep reinventing the same process for security.

Almost like each eye is looking to the other.

wondering how to jump in line,

act like ya know.

& they’ll follow.

swallow hopes of anything different.

& take your bitters with breakfast lunch & dinner.

Cause this is what is happening,

tragedy.

& actually it’s not a terrible symphony.

It’s lyrical & melodic and it carries itself.

It’s what they’re all looking for in them programs.

It’s what the body is tired of looking away from.

Your guts can’t take it anymore.

It’s wrenching. Monkies. Mycelium.

Cilium is hair, synonymous with feeler, split end healers.

I see your body & points don’t matter anymore.

You’re hurting in front of me.

& I, you.

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    Mother Lover. <3

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