Desires Of My Mind

Desires in search of attires to bear the fruit of satires for my attire to make more desires
Unable to be aware of the nature of this mire
I weave the quilt of guilt as my belt to uphold up my pants of rants

Lost in my desires, engulfed by my fashion for new attires and enslaved by the mind behind my minds barbed wire
Unable to wake up, I hick up through my life of desires as a ream of dreams

In the pursuit of a dream, in this leap of my sleep
I have become a brute to loot, to scoot and to recruit more sleep

In this sleep, I weep, I sweep, I peep through the sleep
Dreaming, I am awake, awake within the dream of the sleep, seeping through life’s dream within the dream of the dream
I make up my own beams and screams of dreams

Confused, camouflaged, bruised, and abused by my own mind
I excuse myself of the self as a separate self to help me with the accused, with the amused

Within time, within this twine and within this train of this intertwine
I measure my treasure, my pleasure, my tether to live through the weather of the tether

In the name of together, for the sake of the heather of the other
I hold, to be bold, to uphold this mold, to live in my own blind folded mold
To behold this fold within the fold, I am sold to the wings of desire and to the streams of dreams

Wandering, meandering, plundering and laundering my plundering to make my I a hardening
I am just gardening a little more darkening to keep me asleep in this nether
To make me afloat, to look for another boat, to look for another ship of relationship
And never to unzip, to take upon the judgeship
For the judge ship is another kinship to use as a flagship to wonder of my next battleship

Ships I change, whips I arrange
But for the scar of the ships whip, I am always in range

With Scars I am full, through the stars I am filled
To maybe someday, maybe one day, I may wake up, not from the dreams or through the desire within the dream to shake up
And actually wake up

Maybe within that movement of the moment’s movement, I may invoke, provoke and evoke

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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

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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.

Glorious

Adrift

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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.

Imaginary

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Promise of My Mind

It is the promise of my mind
It is the promise of a body

It is for the comfort of my mind
It is for the comfort of the body’s mind

And with a Broken Mind and a Broken body
I try to awaken that is neither the body nor the mind

In between the body and the mind
Body of the mind and the product of mind from the body
I find my distraction

Distraction as my attraction
Attraction as my distraction
In the distraction of distraction, I find my interaction

In this interactive distraction, I find my illusion of the distractive interaction
Making this illusive distraction my contradiction

This contradiction as my mission, I envision my personification through this transition
to give permission to this condition as my rendition
the rendition of my sweet deceptive perception

In this contradictory attractive and distractive interaction, I find cooperation
Co-operation to keep this distraction an attraction
I sanction my action to this transaction

Every action as another transaction, an expansion of this transaction
I become the creation of my own destruction

Maybe here, maybe in this destruction, in this destructive creation
I be the un-creation to question my addiction

My addiction to this promise of my mind
To actually give permission to Listen, listen to my own promise of my own mind

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Unknown

I swing from the known to the known
for I only know the known that I have known

I find comfort in the known that I have known
I find pleasure/pain in the known that I have known
I am attached to the known that I have known
so I keep swinging from the known to the known

When I see the unknown that is known
I say, it is magic to know the unknown
I forget that it is tragic to know the unknown, for it is now the known-unknown

So I sing the known of the known-unknown
Never knowing that the known-unknown is also known
until it again becomes known to the known

As the days turn to night and night to day
I sleep and sleep walk in the known to the known
Until the day I wonder the unknown of the unknown
that day, maybe that moment, I may wake up to the unknown

The unknown to the unknown to unknown
And in that unknown I may find the unknown
For I am not known unknown-unknown
And maybe I am the unknown-unknown to the unknown-unknown.

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Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

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