Long Lost forgeries.

Thoughts run in tandem with the ink, feelings are channeled from the cerebrum and onto the blank canvas. Ever so often, ideas are scattering and merging like water at dew point. I fathom that i am lost within myself, as if my very being has gone incognito and altered bearings. The black and white antenna provides a better broadcast for those who wish to get a better signal.

It is an arduous task, initiating written voyages with different colored paper fluids,expecting the masses to comprehend the situation; after all, a pen can sometimes be the best brain prop. However, giving palpability to my own thinking in due course provides a formula, one that i utilize to brew a solution. I no longer feel stagnant like a hamster on a tread-mill, i feel my mental self traversing over social barriers… i feel, progress.

Sand Dunes

This place, is not my image of absolution, its one of the many checkpoints; there’s a journey yet ahead. On a stage filled with lush vegetation and liquidated soil, I feel at peace. As cool as whiskey on the rocks, this domain oozes of hospitality. Tempted to pitch a tent and call this home, but my mind tells me otherwise. This is not my full potential, I deny the thought; the fog of war still lingers above the darkest recesses in this barren wasteland. There is still more to explore, I owe it to myself and those who believe in me to unveil every nook and cranny that this place has to offer. I look back at my place of rest and wonder if its all worth leaving. Does all I hope to achieve truly lie somewhere within the sand dunes?

Lacerations well placed on my face, sandstorm grains doing what they do best. As I push forward with nothing but hope as my guide. A collective mirage of dreams, uneven in nature like the given terrain. Back-tracking through my withered journals. Flipping pages soiled by fragments of the desert; the earth’s idea of a joke, giving a whole new meaning to sand paper. Triangulating my position, give it time, success may be in the next step.

Her Domain

A figure that deserves more than one look,

Sculpted with patience and revoked of flaws.

From a crate of empty bottles

Came one which is undefined by the contemporary,

Filled to the brim with perfection.

Like a rare gem,

The figure glitters,

Bearing traits of a mannequin display;

Gaining the attention of those who pass it

 A pure reversal on Midas touch,

To those who gain the privilege to get into contact with it;

More meaning is given.

Early Endings

Life is a journey, filled with multiple forks in the road; a pathway lacking carriage markings, the signs are not apparent. Recollecting the past, remembering the moments that need editing; a momentary glimpse of events occurring in ways I wish they would. A sense of nostalgia that has us wishing we could go back in time, for minor re-adjustments. Feeling like a funambulist on a tight rope, the idea of choice is obsolete; I can only look where I am going, forward. Rough patches are a given, In a race to the top, barriers are nothing more than building material for stepping-stones. Dwelling on the past, wishing for change; a mission that bears no success in reality, only in the mind. Yesterday is a relic to change, well out of our reach, today and tomorrow are well within our sights. We are not alone on this journey, it is an exodus to the future; a future in which all of us, much like a band, play a part. So let us reminisce, but at the same time remember that our past is gone and done for; what we need to focus on is our present and how it is going to change our future.

Live life to its fullest, a literal beacon of joy, illuminating the dark thoughts of loss and despair within peoples’ minds. Striving to be the people who cause happiness wherever they go, not whenever they go.