Worlds of Creativity Seem bigger than the Mind

Sounds of gray

move through my atmosphere,

which I fear translates into music,

but no words.

Whispers,

only of notes that leaves

its mark on my thoughts.

I bought wine in order

to translate them.

The jazz had changed my focus

I wanted to feel my space

like locusts.

And touch the clouds.

I just wanted to understand how

it feels to cry,

and fly higher than I expected.

But the words never get me there,

So now,

I spare none,

They run along this sentence

with reckless abandonment,

opposing all editors,

or judgments in general.

I am now just trying to translate

and condense onto a plate

what goes on

into the head of a man

trying to live and love life's

changes in all it's forms.

Spirituality vs. The World

Just a spoon full

of sugar helps the medicine go down.

But the town

or temple in which I call my body

cannot digest this temporary

cure.

While intentions may be pure,

I fear that this overshadowed

sweetness is just a bandaid

to filter or air-raid

the total truth that

spills from my mind.

I find that words

coming from you,

trying to sell me a dream

seems far from

my state

of mind's place

in this debate of world versus

spirituality.

I guess

as of late, my perception

relies on actions instead of words.

I'm lie tired

of linguistic patterns urging me this way or that.

Facts should swim in

Holy Water.

But how Holy is this Water.

I can't call it,

It's up to you to fall into it

and see where your truth lies.

The surprise of this all

is to be human

is to be different,

So understand that truth,

and make a choice.

Opinions of others will not Suffocate Me

Pissing in piss poor

potholes of indecision

is what every word that

biased intellect did.

So I reflect on times

when my temperature was

tip-toeing on the

line between hot and cold.

A time when thought

was an absolute conclusion.

Not a boat caught in

a brain-storm

of second thinking.

I know there's

a light-house to

bring me to shore.

An idealistic light-bulb

constantly abright.

Not flickering

because the surrounding

Ideas are taking it's energy.

I will stand alone

in the atonement of these ideals.

Hills of public opinion

will not hold sway

on future days of my

renewed prospective.

But I will listen

for without new conversations

can one progress past their own nose.

New Years 2010

My taste buds are tickled

by transparent bubbles

bursting and oozing

its farewell to last year,

promising a better one to come.

The Prosecco continues

its journey down my throat,

allowing me to feel everything.

My senses welcome you,

new dawn,

So allow the earth

and everyone on it to

soak you up.

But while the world

enjoys the moment

my mind races past

to the future.

The questions will be

answered eventually,

and eventually these

answered questions will leave me

understanding that with contentment

there is no progression.