Me & the World

Born to the ocean of the world
Learning the ways of the world as my mold to hold
Looking at the world through my past hold
Fooled to the idea of the old, I lost my bold

Unable to swim alone, disabled to think alone, blink alone
I look for the ship of relationships to sail me through my loneliness
A loneliness that stems from the ship of the friendships, the kinships, the courtships, the flagships and every other ship of relationships

Afraid of loneliness, I fear of being alone
As a runaway from aloneness and as a walkway of my life, I make my habit my life
Life as a habit, I have become a slave to my habitual grave

In the comfort of habit, in the comfort of the security of my habit
I create my hull with the repition of tradition, I recreate my skull with the mission of ambition for another tradition

In this repetitive tradition, I became a competition to my own premonition

Caught in these waves of my premonitions, I set sail with my ships full of frail
Riding the waves, abiding by the fav’s, becoming the waves
I rise and fall in the ocean of the world
I crash and trash within the potion of my mold

I create the chaos, so I can make the waves
the hate wave, the love wave, each is just a wave
the dark wave, the light wave, each is another wave to rave, to be a slave to the wave
so I can dance the dance of the wave
For the world is just another dance of the wave

When the dance is done, when the stance is done and done
I get the glance of the nature of the wave
I get the glance of the trance of the wave

Here and near when the fear and the smear and the rest that hear is no longer dear
I come to rest, I come back to the nest
Into the depths of the ocean, in the very motion with no motion
Within the abyss of this bliss, I have no eye for the I, nor an I for an I to miss

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My World

My world is another mold
A mold of another fold

For i realize that every fold is just another hold
Another hold i can no longer withhold
For every withhold is of the told
Both the fool’s gold and the white gold

And all that i am told is now my own blindfold
Blindfolded i am, making the known my backbone

For my Laughter is of the known
My laughter after is of the known

My happiness is of the known
My sadness is of the known

My pleasure is of the known
my treasure is of the known

My pain is of the known
my came is of the known

The faces i miss are of the known
the spaces i kiss are of the known

And, all I know is of the known
All i have yet to know is through the known

To the known, i am alive
To the known, I die

And when i am alive to my sense, i speak of the nonsense of my sense
And when i am no sense, i have no sense to sense the sense

For my world has become a senseless sense with known sense of unknown nonsense, that has no sense of the nonsense, of the sense

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