Intention #Revisited

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Hold that dynamite

That I call words,

Close to your head

As I light the wick;

Each cylindrical stick

Is a verse, a word

Intended

And made

To do one thing:

Blow

Your

Mind.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: lov3ken

Parts.

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I take the emotions that make me human,

The parts I like about myself

And those I’m not necessarily proud of

Put them through a distillery,

Also known as my free-flowing poetry.

 

A separation process that helps marginalize my personality

Diverse pathways showcasing the entirety of me

All in a form that makes sense to those that take the time

To visualize the makings of an imagination uncontained.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: DaisanART

 

 

Know (?)

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If you were given the chance,

How much more of me would you wish to know?

When do I tell myself to stop talking without feeling like …

Like, I’m not telling you something important?

Because to me, it’s all connected, you know.

But to you, well, they may just be fragments.

 

When do you tell me its enough, to stop.

Or, should you even say that?

Especially if you keep asking to know more.

In the end, when can we really say it has all become “too much”?

Foregoing accountability for either saying too much;

Or asking to know more

About what we are not yet prepared to hear?

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: NielsHoyle-Dodson

 

Dear reader, how much is too much? (especially when those we love are involved)

 

Skill >>

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The level of my skill hovers somewhere between now

And the day my story reaches its end.

 

To those looking for a definitive measure of my abilities,

A qualitative and or quantitative study of my talent

Is hidden between the crevices that mark the borders governing a single moment.

 

A single moment, from the beginning till the end of time

Spaced out and compartmentalized 

Into what we, as humanity, believe to be digestible:

A calendar.

 

Four dimensions bind our reality,

A sandbox we’re content building our little castles in

We all have our chosen spots; but still, they ask where I fit.

 

Where I fit, in this illustrious sandpit.

All the while not asking who or what holds it all together.

“What? No. Not me. That would be crazy.”

 

My body may be bound to the familiarity of this plane,

But my mind? Well, my mind wanders. 

Mental musings scaling the space that exists between constellations

— And that’s on a bad day.

 

Unapologetically wild with my thoughts and all processes associated.

Concealed within my brain casing is a world I am in love with

A world I wish to show you with each word I write.

But, much like anything else;

Everything in moderation, right?

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: SquidMag