FREESTYLEVISION – Page 10 – Defining the undefined one post at a time.

Where you live

Cut my veins and bleed the life that I so easily give
Breathe my breath and resurrect the one I fear is dead
Spew form you lips sweet words you twist and invade my cryptic head

Cut my veins and bleed the life that I so eagerly give
Read my wit, dispel my kiss and bind me to your grid
Cue my sense disguised as my friend and clip my wings again

Do you know where you’re going
What you’re doing what you give
Do you know where you’re going
What you’re doing where you live

Feed me your pain and bind me with chains yet be free to roam the world
Accuse me of fits cover me in your spit then go off and love your girl
Steel my truth and darken the fruit of wisdom I labored for pearls

Feed me your pain and bind me with chains spill seeds to make your girl
Pin me in twists and make me click then run off into your whirl
Leave me all alone without even a bone with nothing left to hurl

Do you know where you’re going
What you’re doing what you give
Do you know where you’re going
What you’re doing where you live

At the Matinee

At the matinee at one
in the afternoon on a bright,
open day means a number

of things. The need to wrap-
up in a blanket, a haven from
the world we struggle in.

The breeze spins lightly
through the vast parking lot.
The sun requires sunglasses

to find your way to the glass doors,
artificial light, buttery popcorn aroma,
red carpets, bored employees,

canned music reverie, solace.
We all sit far apart and watch
distant, chill London gloom

sooth us with detachment.

On Being

To get up every day with a purpose
is a joy. To go out in the world,
see clearly, be where you are.

A sage from long ago said:
“when hungry I eat. When tired
I sleep.” And, I write to see
where it goes, to go where it leads.

What is there to see?
What do I see that is not there?

What speaks as I write
of what was not there only
a moment ago?

The thought thinks the speaker.
It wafts out to hold its place
where the echoes of choices not made
play their harmony in the background.

We are a chorus of song.
We are all waiting to learn our part
in the great orchestra of being.

The conductor waits for your attention.

To Be Or Not To Be

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

Could it be me?

Maybe you Why not we?
Master’s of this poetry,

As far as we both can see
Maybe God will allow it to be,
Suddenly-quite frequently.

Life changes for the good Or even the bad
Often it will make us moved-unmoved sad
So fortunately-unfortunately
It is to be or not to be.

Your quest-our quest
Given it little-much or even your best.

Accomplished-groomed-well polished
Often or not even acknowledged
High school maybe not-college
To many this may even sound foolish.

But however this is me
My inner within
written poetry,
So smite thee
if you plea
For I am to be or not to be.

Thought of the Day

I may not be able to control the way I feel, but I can control the way I respond.

Improvi-satori

Growl in hunger lines where music pierces softly
and where Icarian troubadours are their own sirens
Drowning themselves in romantic ends strangely
that stab and stare in the dark, in a dark age
that somehow know where its soul must land
The insanity of imagining it all! & all day the cells
Bristle, mortality shrugs and whistles, emptying
this life of real joy, till a push comes upon me
and I feel the body in revolt or surrender fall in torpor
reaching some soft sky of lost interludes born again
through me, today’s imprimatur.

And after tomorrow life leaping –
songs never to be played again yet echo,
and promise more of this, offspring of this endless life,
yearning life through notes I’ve cried, constructing these
Auroras of Orpheus in golden lands I scale & question,
But who would eat these bitter breads, or drink from
Poisoned wells? Not I, so instead I erect these steles
& wait in hunger lines where music pierces mosaic hells,
and consecrate this private heaven’s new ground
The novel tales and new consciousness to tell.

Liberty

I am free from the curse of the law
I hold the hand of God so even if I stumble I do not fall
He has removed the noose of addiction
And placed upon me a necklace of redemption
Every day I awaken it’s a new life I live
I am free from the curse of the law – yes, I now live
He unlocked the handcuffs of failure and shackles of fear
He let me out and said I could go free and clear
I am no longer a caged bird wishing I could fly
Freedom is the wind, and Jesus the highest height
I am a new creation in Christ, old things passed, all made new
None of me Jesus – I want all of you
I desire Him because He has proved himself time and time again
Now I fight with good cause and confidence I will win
Thank you Jesus, everyday is a blessing
Seeing ways of the old man daily lessening
And thank you for the understanding of not only freedom but also liberty
For now I know I can do all things through christ who strengthens me

Ouroboros Imaginos

Happy birthday, Brutus, my friend of late
Whose Queen of Muses stands high, awaits
The happiest of happies hence, O Creator
Down my lover’s rabbit-hole ’tis better;
But crave or drive or worship or flee
Drink down the summer wine’s warm pedigree,
“The film noir queen steps down from the screen
and waters my orchids with her tears”;
I build skyscrapers in imaginary heavens
swarmed by gardens warm and mad;
I hear heavy metal saints singing to their
Battalions, and I dream what I never had.
And here, here comes the oily tide!
And the irradiated glow of sick wormwood.
Our Chernobyl, our stupid cataclysm,
Our complacent stare at the colored tube,
And banal peasant chatter filling the air,
As fetid lives await the black seas,
Wrecking Nature’s delicate symphony,
Au revoir, sanity!
Sayonara, fragilest Spring!
Kiss goodbye grasshopper-summers,
as Satan seduces the world again.
But here are there dancers, poets, and friends,
and here is there wine enough, and (as yet) no end.

What comes around goes away,
With rough sweetness she came to play,
now disappeared without a trace!
And I’m stuck in a Purgatorio’s train station
Strumming for the invisible guardians of fate.
What comes around always goes away
On the dark plank of uncertainties–
I see the angry storms mottle these
pseudo-tropical horizons, electric entities
prodding me till love leaps up into the
Firmament of a truer freedom’s kingdom,
Soaring ineffably around the blue realms
Like an ancient mystic returned
To reclaim his singing futures, quite like
the Romans–and I mean the poets–and quite
like the moments I polish with words,
for your mindgallery seasons you’ll carry with you
Throughout all your lives, in all the universes,
Though you die here and leap from the morass into the
Silver-lightning’d Infinity with a silken heart,
Riding a blue star of phantom grace.

Imagination

My imagination
is my hands
that touch
explore
excite
the planes
depths
of your body

My imagination
is my lips
that kiss
your eyes
cheeks
gently
passionately
probe
taste
your mouth

My imagination
is vivid
Flowing
Intense
Desire
for you builds
the more
thoughts of you
come
into my mind
Fire
takes over
my body
I will explode

I want you now
I burn for you

Time
to stop
imagining

My Constant Love

You my constant love
who never abandons me
I love You
I feel You
in the warmth
of the sun
as it touches my face
I feel You
in the softness
of the wind
I hear Your voice
in the music
of birds singing
and
children laughing
and
the sounds of life
beautiful life
around me
You are always
with me
My constant love
My Lord
My Life
My God