Tag Archives: truth

Tanka: 21

Sometimes you force truth.

Sometimes it comes easily.

It never matters.

Let the music warm your heart.

Let her sound slow down your soul.

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Haiku: 27

I spoke it in myth.

Thought in ambiguity.

Realized in truth.

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The riddle of laughter

Hahahaha

Laughter can be learned

Hahhahaha

Copied often and empty and churned

Hahhahaha

Its hard to do alone

Hahahaha

Even harder over the telephone

Hahhahaha

Can you do it when you’re mad

Hahahaha

Can you do it when you fuck up bad?

Hahhahaha

When you can’t do it at all

Hahhahaha

That’s when the souls dead and sprawled

Cause laughter is just hard as to be a serious

And people think the ladder is better their real quite delirious

Hahhahaha

Cuz when you think about the time

Hahahaha

Its there’s, his, or hers them or mine

Hahahaha

It’s just yours  so laugh for no reason riddle or rhyme

Ha!!!

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Filed under J.L.Wanderer, Uncategorized

The Pearl, The Bird, and the Clam

To  every word that is spoken I’m not the one who’s chosen to be in simile of a note that is not my own as I call to every phone I find myself a drone to words that are so vague and expressionless.

My back my knee my chest is jarred by the journey of actions I must travel on this naked path of regret and redemption. Redemption of a words that weren’t true and actions that stood on the other side of the world that makes me numb to answers that are not quite there yet.

The lyre bird can mimic sound so can souls mimic passion or does come from a natural plain that is surreal to our human comprehension of what is. I cannot find a soul that flows from the deepest inner holes of my being. Acting for so long has only made a liar’s bird that harks and crows to the upper sky searching for cornflakes at the end of a salty road that came to be nothing. But the road was long and full of bumps that made me know of the twists and turns of the reality I make for myself.

Every strand of hair has fallen and the taste for life has depreciated its value but that comes with age or the new eyes we give ourselves after the world tells you, you’re wrong. Who cares for gravity of mistakes the more monumental, the more of the person they are and will be. Honestly I can’t find a branch I haven’t broken or a twig that has snapped in my misdirected path toward wisdom and truth that exists inside all of us but we refuse to let in because it is too heavy of a burden to bear.

The truth is we are all misshapen pearls that stand to be remolded and reshaped and I am not ashamed or afraid of the bumps that had to be smoothed in the tight clams mouth so that I would come closer to what I actually need and want to be.  This immortality that we dance with is our search for perfection that we deny ourselves with our pride and vanity that consumes us like the clam consumes the pearl holding its soul. The shell that we adorn ourselves with only holds us from the round, perfect, glimmering pearl that we want to be and once you can remove the tight clams grasp than we can truly have a conversation.

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The Constant mover

The shackles that we place ourselves in of our own doing the prisoner really is your mind that places you there only to be in mere dark shadows of who we are and who we want to be.

We live in a world that everyone creates for us and forget to realize our minds make it the way that we really see it. In truth one has to recognize the tortures we endure to pretend who we want people to think we are.

Living in this violence and climbing into the deepest recess of our imagination of who we want to become but are held back from the daily toils of irrelevant things that distract us.

I know that it sounds vain to say something of this nature but really when it comes down to it the heaviness of reality battles with the dreams of whom we want to be.

Who are we to chase the stars, who are we to go after the moon and sun and devour its ambient rays are we gods. No we are human we have to show everyone that we are but at the same time maintain the poise of what we are supposed to appear to be.

The vastness of one’s deepest thoughts can be smothering only to hold you to the darkest dungeons of reality that holds you to be its prisoner.

This prisoner that dances so ambient for the applause and the candor for the applause of its counter parts is so counter moving and counter logical that it hold them back.

The soul dancer is purely moving for the sake of moving and surely for the sake of applause that his towers have crumbled into little pieces for now all the dancer can see is the ashes of the towers that the dancer has burned it all down to start from scratch again to see what they can build up.

This applause this dancer has to give to himself but sadly doesn’t this credit has to have intentions to make this dancer happy but blind ambition has push the dancer so far that he has forgotten to Just dance for the sake of himself.

The ripples of percussion in the dancer’s ears no longer compel him to move but what makes him move is the silence he has allowed himself to give in order to realize how to dance again. This movement is so benign and unnatural to where it is now where he no longer knows how to dance.

The funny thing though, all this dancer has to do is move and he will find the steps again to move to be truly happy again.

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Nobody Ever Told Her It’s the Wrong Way

As it rolls off your tongue and passes behind their ears
You start to ponder the interpretation beyond all of their minds
What did your words sound like inside another’s brain, through another’s airwaves?
Indifference.
Over-analyzation.
Jealousy.
Manipulation.
Joy.
You can’t ever quite tell.
If they have the correct grasp or are they holding onto Never-never land?
The truth stands; it was said.
Did the message, tucked away in a bottle
Make it soundly?
Without the ink running or the paper ripped and faded?
Was the letter received
The right way?

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Filed under Willow Hutton

A shared moment (with Sangretti)

Mary reads to Dr. Mierzwiak out of “Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations”; the lines are from Alexander Pope’s poem “Eloisa to Abelard”]

Mary: How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot! / The world forgetting, by the world forgot / Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! / Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d.

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Filed under Mr. Stacker