A Recycled Me

Maybe my memories are like that of time, recycled over and over
My experiences like that of matter, creating my reality as my actuality through my memories
And my thoughts are like that of space, vast and yet are a result of my memories and experiences
Weaving the very fabric of the me I call as me

I am a fictionary element living in the dictionary
Defined by the Dictionary, confined by the images and intertwined by the images of my mind projected onto my mind

Cycle after cycle, recycled by my images
Revived by my images, recited by my images
I have become an image unto the image of my image

Unknown beyond my image, I am just a bond between my images, responding to my images, reforming my images
from the memories that memorized me, from the stories that mesmerized me
And yet I am surmised by the rise of the these prized memories

For the sunrise, I think I agnize is just another way to glamorize my image of the sunrise as my apprize for a rise

Aided by my images, graded by those images and shaded by the images within my image
Persuaded, degraded, barricaded and intoxicated by my images
I lead an experience of the past thinking I am fast not realizing that I am just a cast

A cast in the movie, created by the cast, for the cast to uncast the cast that cast the cast of this Mast I call me

I am the actor, I am the doctor, I am the redactor and the very common factor
For it is the I am that is the image of the I am that I think I am

This I am made me an I am for I am to show me My I am, to know me I am
So maybe, I am and I, and the I of the I am may loose its luster and its muster
to be free of memories, to be free of experiences that create memories that create the thought of My

And here, I wonder……

Bloglovin

No One Is Lonely

No one is lonely, No one is only
No one is alone, No one is one nor none
For the one to be the one, everyone has to become none to make the one everyone and none know one

To know one, to be none is to be no one with no reference to everyone
My perception may give me the me, the idea of me
For there is no me without another me

Each me is another me, all of me is no other than me
I let not the me divide me, separate me, enslave me
For when I am enslaved by my thought
I am another slave that is caught in the taught

Dictated by my thoughts
Directed by my not’s
Let not me dedicated to my knots
For then my knots become my clots, my plots
My plot for another spot, another slot, another fraught

A mind that is not here has no one near and yet everyone is dear
Fear not the mind that is here, hear not the grind of the mind that is dear
steer not to the bind of this blind find
For it is a kind of the mind and not the mind of the mind

The known mind is old, yet it is still my mold
for my habit is a known hold
So I be free of this fold, of that which is told, of that which is polled

A mind that is free, will neither wander nor plunder
And may ponder, may wonder, may be a splendor to its own wonder of the wonder
For I am neither One nor None or Everyone

Bloglovin

Power In The Tower

In the name of the Power, I am trained to crawl up the Tower
The lover & the giver is just another name of the power over the other
For each is another control tower to hover over the other
To tether, to hither & thither, the other

Living through the other, unable to examine my own perception of power
I look for the other that is also after the power

In this race for power, to create a space for my control tower
I divide my mind to create a self called myself to abide to my divided self
A divided self, fed and bred by my denomination of abominations

Abominations of denominations of Race, Religion, Color, Country, Culture and every other segregation
I aid to this fire power to build up for my hour

Maybe I do this, so “I” don’t have to change, I don’t want to give up my habit, my mechanistic way of my miserable “known” life
for the unknown, for the new that is not known is abandoned, is condemned to the habituated slave mind of mine

For example:
A thief justifies his/her way of life through another thief, thus calling the world as a bundle of thieves, so I don’t have to change myself, look at my own self and my way of life

Maybe this why I identify myself in everyday life with, my race, my culture, my country, my religion, my this & my that, inside/outside
And actually want YOU to do the same and I AID you to do the same through a million masks of mine

Satisfaction as my gratification
Ratification as my formation
I live for the proof of the other, in the spoof of another

Holding on to the “My”
Shielding the My from the I
Yielding to the My over the I
I am lost within the tide of the MY, a divided MY

The day is here and the sway is near
Like the footprints on the sandy shore
Every mark will be wiped
Every spark will be swiped
Wiped from the face of the earth and the very mask of the man

For every tower will fall, every power will stall
Above all, every flower will hail & prevail

Bloglovin

Drifting Bodies & Shifting Minds

Drifting Bodies and Shifting Minds
Gifting memories with rifting experiences

Living in the differences, finding the difference within the difference of the difference
I have become a nuisance to the wants of the indifferent
Flicked by each one, flipped by everyone
I am no one to raise the one in each one

With no dimension to mention and with no mention of a dimension to make my illusory mansion
I await in the depths of my breath for my dear friend, death

Death as a memory to relieve me of my memories, to relive another memory
I am tangled in the web of my own fury

In a world that bows to the glory, I make my story a fairy
A fairy story to makeup my dairy, A dreary dairy

Bounded by the pleasures of the flesh
Hounded by the measures of my minds mesh
I am found within this mesh of the flesh

Bodies as a manifestation of the thought
and thought as expression through the bodies
I have become an extension of the thought of the body, living in the knot of the shoddy

Unaware and unable to recognize the nature of this thought, I go about being a feature of my own drought

The thought that is crowned, the thought that is downed, the thought that is abound
And the thought, thinking of the thought of the thought that is confound may come across the nature of its own nature
To liberate, to desecrate, to negate, to disintegrate each thought and every thought

Maybe here, maybe then, I may come across that which is not of the body, through the mind of the body nor the knot of that which is taught
For the thought that is not caught, is not of the taught and not of the sought.

Adrift

Bloglovin

Always All Alone

I walk alone
I stand alone
I speak alone
For divided, I fall and United I stall

Divisions are dependent on Unison and unison is dependent on division
For both are the opposite of each other and cannot exist without the other

So when I unite in the name of division
When I divide in the name of unison
each and together they become my confinement, my prison, giving rise to my loneliness

Loneliness as the onlyness, I know of no aloneness
Always looking for the other, both physically and mentally
I live through the other, for the other, in the name of one another

Unknown to the mind
Not known, what to find
Unable to define, to refine and to confine
I mine my memories through predefined image of my image

Unable to understand the perception of the perceiver’s perception
I float around in the idea, an illusion of my perceptions deception
I take up the makeup, hide behind the cover up to show up that I am the up and the cup
For in reality, I am just an empty cup waiting for a fillup

And when I wake up from this makeup
I stand up, I rake up the I that is lost in the ME, that is lost in the WE
The I that is a host of the why
Maybe here, the I that comes across the Why know of no I
For the I of the I has no I to look at the I that looks at the I

And here, my dear there is no one dear or near to stand with the I
For in the beginning and in the end of the beginnings end, I am always all alone

Bloglovin

The Other

In the name of the tether, each is for the other
The good tether, the bad tether, the dark tether, the light tether, the love tether, each is just another tether
For within each other, with roots in the nether and leaves toward the father, we nurture the mother

The mother that gives birth to the web of life
In the ebb and flow of life, I may forget this mother
Yet the mother remembers the tether to all of her other

To care for the other, to share with the other, to spare another
Every tether gets stronger by the number
For each number is another feather within this heather that make up every feather and the heather

So Shine up, soak up, rise up, lift up each other
For each is a tether to another and every other invokes the another

So clean up, lean up to wake up each other, one another
For each is a deed, a feed, a need to the other to sow the seed of the tether
And none is a weed, for every weed is another need to nourish one another

For every seed that is sowed is to be freed, to knead, to heed, to bead every thread of life
So let the flowers bloom, the lovers boom and the hours filled with perfume

And I let me forgive, I let me live, I let me give, I let me outlive that which I give to re-give to each other, for one another, to lighten the tether, to heighten each other

Each is a fairy, a glory, a story and an allegory
For there is no other.

None

Bloglovin

Me, the Prisoner of My Perception

Me as a prisoner of my own mind
I am a miner of the grind of my mind

Bound by the imagination of my infatuation
I am the reincarnation of my infatuated imagination

My imagination as my perception
My perception as the perception of the imaginary imagination
I make up my the destination of perception
Reality as my perceptions reality, I make up my perception as my reality, I make up my perception as my actuality

Perception as my creation and my cremation
Perception as my formation and my destruction
Perception of my ratification as my gratification, I have become a decoration of my perception, to my perception

To the perception of the perceivers perception perceiving the perception of the perceiver unto its own perception
I make up my Perception as my feed

My Feed as my need and my need as that which I bleed, that which I breed
I seed the need of the deed
And for the deed of the greed, I make up my web of the weed

In this web, I move step by step to loose all of my pep
Lost and frost in my own knots, the knots and not’s of my thoughts
I search for a way out, a way out of the web through the web, only to go round and round in my own web of perception through the deception of the perception
Until the moment I realize that I don’t know that I don’t know

Maybe then, I knock on the door of that which is not known
I try to stand on the floor of that which is not known
to undo that which is through the known
For every perception is of the known and every known is through the perception of the known

Maybe then, I may come across the unknown that which is not known to the known nor to the known-unknown
For I am neither the well known nor the known or the unknown through the known.

Bloglovin