O.D.

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

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

 

 

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)

 

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

 

 

Divine I

 

******

 

You are beautiful

Just the way you are;

Let no one make you think otherwise.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: DaCre8iveOne

An ode to all the women in the world.

 

One thing at a time, my friend

It won’t matter how fast

You get it all done

If it means we can not

Celebrate it all together,

In the end.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: syarul

 

Just a little reminder for all my readers as I work on my other projects for this blog and beyond. Abide by your own metric, do not compare yourself to others. You are already enough.

Happy Wednesday 🙂

Just a bunch of broken pieces trying their best

To find, which parts fit, with which …

 

Scattered, they are, my emotions

All in conjunction with associated propositions

Much like the layout of this entire poem.

 

Jagged edges that take time to link

Sometimes, two bits align, but none come after

And perhaps they are not meant to.

 

I have far outgrown the thought of an ideal narrative

I could ponder on and on about why life isn’t fair

But honestly, I find the thought revolting

Who else do I blame about the way I feel about the world besides myself?

 

Fate? Destiny? No, I don’t believe in that,

Just circumstances coming into focus;

Sequences of events that run in parallel with our different realities.

 

I believe in people giving more weight to various phenomena

That can, under different circumstances, through different lenses,

Be easily explained.

 

“I believe in a universe that does not care,

But people that do”

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: michifromkmk

I’m an avid gamer, I think I’ve mentioned that once or twice here. When I’m not on my blog I’m either playing a game, listening to music, or pursuing other projects (like writing my book).

Late last year I was playing this game called Night In The Woods…

(spoiler alert) there was a character who said the exact same quote I said at the end of my poem. And for some reason, when they said that, it all clicked for me. I had been thinking of the same thing for the longest time and to hear the character say what I felt was a little mind-blowing. Sure, prior to seeing that quote I probably would have said it differently but, the feeling was still the same. 

I am not very religious. In fact, I’m not religious at all (used to be though). I chose to live this way because I believe in doing good that comes straight from the heart. Because it feels right and it soothes my soul. It always felt odd when I would make a choice on whether to do good or bad solely based on my fear to go to hell.

But with that little factor out of the way, I find myself truly feeling like I’m doing good because I want to, not feeling like a hypocrite who just wants to go to heaven (I’m not saying religious people are hypocrites, I’m only exploring how I felt when I adhered to the doctrine and all its teachings) People close to me sometimes get rattled when I mention this, but there really is no need to worry. 

If I do burn in hell because I didn’t associate myself with any religious denomination; it’s okay. Because at the end of it all I’ll know it was my own conscious choice and not one that was made for me.

 

In other news: working on Flow (Part 2)

 

 

All aboard the rails conducting my imaginative process,

Prequel to the formation of yet another piece,

Bringing to the forefront vivid imagery

Displaying in thirty-nine words or less of this verse

The unknown heights soared by my creative prowess.

 

Fully immersed in a world for words

What you choose to see as a line

Is yet another portal I weave,

All in a bid to connect your world to mine.

 

You speak to me, but I don’t hear a thing,

Complete absorption in the art

Mutes the beauty of your sound, my dear,

And because my mind sees the prior restriction as finite

It relishes in relinquishing my fundamental understanding

Of space and time.

 

Dear reader,

I know yarning the golden thread that holds my mental state

Is an admittedly tall task, so before it becomes a drag, 

I ask you to take your time settling into the comfort of my slipstream

Allow me to fulfil my conscious choice;

Allow me to take the brunt of all the creative expenditure

All in the hopes of sparking hope and inspiration

In the hearts of those that are beginning to lose it.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Artsammich

 

If I inspire one person to write something. I’m happy.

I often don’t write with the intention to inspire, but I hear how my friends on WP tell me some of the things I say are inspirational. That used to be the case, but I changed up my writing style to be a reflection of me and not what I believe will attract the most attention or traffic.

It’s freeing writing what you want when you want to write it. Do not ever let anyone police you on how to express your words and how you feel.

The reason I’m saying this is because I want to clearly state how much a don’t like manipulative people. I really don’t like manipulative people. Like, I really, really don’t like manipulative people.

“Hey reader. Just wondering, did I ever, by any chance, tell you how much I don’t like manipulative people?”

Perhaps I was “lucky” enough to grow around manipulative people, so I find it easy to identify manipulation from a mile away. (Before anyone freaks out. My childhood was amazing, so were my teenage years, the manipulators were around me, but it did not ruin my life; it added to it through experience)

Manipulators will make you question your sanity, make you doubt your capabilities just to make themselves feel better and control you. If you have read much of my work you will see how I am nauseated by such behaviour. I was often manipulated, even in my college years. Nothing major, just small tweaks to the way I thought about things. Subtle nudges in unfavourable directions. 

It becomes clearer and clearer who your manipulators are when you start breaking off and doing your own thing. I identified one of my manipulators through my writing, It was all on the one week I had decided to stop seeking advice and critiques from them. All of a sudden my work was now, “sounding cocky… self-serving… not giving hope” according to them.

That’s all well and good but… is abiding by those rules what truly makes good writing?

See, I believe in writing what I want. The very essence of thinking openly and exploring ideas runs at the risk of offending someone, but it does not mean the ideas should be censored as a result. A basic right I had failed to identify early on in my college years. My manipulator identified how (at the time) I loved being the good guy, the hero and latched onto that to make me question my own talents. By painting these bad traits in my writing (the one which was done without their involvement) my manipulator was looking to regain control. Fortunately enough, it only pushed me further, motivating me to write more of this so-called cocky, not giving hope stuff till I reached a point where they realised they had no say in what I did in that area. Only to realize that even without their help, I am capable of finding readers interested in what I have to say (and that my writing was “Inspirational”)

But the thing about manipulators is they are persistent, especially once they have tasted having power over you. Which is why my manipulator moved to try and control a different part of my life. Yes, it’s hard getting rid of a manipulator, dear reader.

Especially when they are family …

To be continued…

An inkwell born of a world unseen, a world untouched;

With the exception of my curious and far-reaching mind.

Refilled only, by a dose of self-prescribed meditation –

Sounds close to medication – might as well be, if not received on a daily;

In other news, before I take the next step in combining the parts I have laid out

I ask myself what my words are worth if I spout them

Without the intent to?

 

The resulting image of my character terraforming

Can, in essence, be likened to the evolution

In my chosen style of writing;

“One or the other” is perhaps

The most blasphemous phrase I would associate

In describing the tether that exists 

Between me and my poetry.

 

Adjoined, we are, in our conveyance of an inner light

An inner light, flickering in the cove that serves as my heart’s chosen habitat.

Where is this chosen habitat I hear you ask?

Where else besides that inkwell, born of a world unseen;

Of a world untouched.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Andead