Living in the I of the Eye

Eyes looking for I’s and I’s looking for Eyes
making the I from the eye and I within the eye
creating, procreating, marketing the eye of the I
I am neither in the eye nor in the I and thus neither shall I live in the I

Living through many eyes, unable to connect to any of the I
clinging, swinging from this clinging and springing from this upbringing and singing this ringing
I have become the very tradition of this wringing

Traditions as my renditions
Traditional renditions as my conditions
Conditions as my contradictions
Contradictions as my reasons, Reasons for treasons
Treasons as my seasons and so many prisons
I have become a malfeasance to the very essence

The mind’s many ways making many stays.
Many stays for many strays, for any strays and for many sways
Every escape with no prescape
Forming the makeup of the cape of the new scape of the I of the eye.

Many lives lost, many knives were toast
Through the hearts of the human and the minds of the maiden
forgotten, forbidden, forsaken, my mind is cultivated in the cult of the belt that melts into the felt of the mind, calling it my mind
Repetitions, remembrance, repetitions of this remembrance, making my memories to crave for the same hickory creating the fine thread for my traditional culture

Cultures as vultures to feed, to breed on my habituated and habituatory divisions
Divisions as provisions to make more separations
Separation’s in the name of identification to a different vulture, different Stature, different caricature
Each division creating competition in my mind, dividing my perception and fighting within the divided perceptions within my mind

For now, my divided mind has become a knife between life and life
The very knife that strives to be the strife of the life
And this, I label as life

A life that is formed through the eye, that arose the I from the eye
Maybe when I pluck the eye, burn the I of the eye
In this absence a different presence may arise, a presence that is of a different I and a different Eye of the I

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All Selves as My Self

When a Business man becomes a Service man
When a Farmer becomes a Father
When a Artist becomes an Enlightener rather than a Entertainer

When Flags become Rags
when Racial Separation becomes a Radical Union within my self
when Color becomes Colorless and Clueless
When Religion becomes a Legion of Love within me

When Division is no longer a Diversion
When Labels becomes a Babble
When Corporations become units of Compassion
And when I no longer want the other, thither me

Then, maybe then, I will see myself with an eye that has no division of I
Then, maybe then, I will BE the society that I wanted to see, I will be the experience I wanted to be
Then, maybe then, I will actually, myself and through myself, will see all selves
ONE SELF, Myself as all selves

For, myself is the self that sees the other self, through myself and within myself

Passport

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Hurt

Hurt people hurting people making hurt people hurt more people
to distract people, to detract people

Divisions as my distractions and detractions as my provisions
these Provisions as my visions on the course of my collisions
Dividing the division of the divide within me

People come, people leave
But the Pupil that I am has become the weave for every eve
Every eve that is a heave
I may think I am here to achieve, to receive, to perceive, but I am simply naïve

Player upon player
Layer upon layer
Prayer upon prayer
I layer the prayer for the player I have become

Each pupil as a player, playing the player, playing the player of the player
Living in the fear and Forgetting the dear
I spear and smear everyone and everything near
Just to appear as a frontier, for I have lost my ear to hear, here

Me as a reflection of the entire humanity, with the deception of vanity, created this insanity, this profanity within me
For I have lost my “responsibility” and acceptability to myself
and thus to every self and shelf within me and around me

So, I let me wake up, remove my makeup
raise my cup up to share my heart up

For my heart that’s shaken and my thought that is not mistaken will awaken to become a lumen that lights and a fire that ignites.

Puncture
Distant

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