LIVE.

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Time, to you, can be viewed as a straight line

Somehow going somewhere.

Relish in my way of thought for a bit

And you will perchance see how I visualize it.

Time, to me, is a complex knot

Entangled, never moving;

Stuck in the same spot.

 

What you’ve concluded as the passage of time

Is instead, a single moment.

A single moment that has stayed the same with no change.

There has never been a then, just a now.

The futility of my curiosity towards what comes next

Has only been rewarded by my newfound ability

To suppress unchecked inquisitiveness.

 

You speak highly about a life long-lived

Based on a metric dictated 

By a terrestrial unit of measurement.

It takes the lifespan of a mayfly

To give you much-needed perspective.

You only think you live long

Because the world is full of things that die faster.

 

It’s just like me, isn’t it?

To break everything down to its fundamentals.

I wish my way of thinking could be described as a gimmick;

That would most certainly help your psycho-analysis.

But go ahead and ask me, the answer is always a constant

Days? Months? Weeks? Apart from herding everyone in mutual directions

All mean nothing to me.

 

Day and night? Right. It’s a relay

And Earth’s residents are simply taking turns with the sun.

You can ritualize the process of the earth moving on an invisible rotisserie

For as long as you please, but to then expect me

To give it nearly as much weight as you do?

Well, you’re the one who’s always going on about fate

Would it be too much to ask if I leave that part to you?

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: kevron2001

 

 

 

 

Warped.

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You can gaze into the mirror for as long as you please

Cultivating a deluge of self-love rituals

Revel in how well you tell yourself you’re amazing.

 

But that amounts to nothing

When the moment you cross the periphery of your home

You treat others lesser than trash;

… Lesser than you.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: snatti89

 

His/Hers.

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I’ve grooved through familiar tunes.

I’ve been entranced by the same pitch –

– the same dance, many times over.

How am I the pessimist

For simply knowing how it ends?

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

Overclocked.

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The clock hands wind themselves into an unending spiral,

Fast-forward and they look like rotor blades

Levitating whichever moment they are bound to.

I don’t speak in jest when I lace my words into an elaborate analogy 

That better accentuates how fast time flies.

 

We live through the same time yet we run a race in different lanes

Try to peer into mine and all you’ll see, is me,

Playing skip rope with what you best understand as the finish line.

I write the best I have to offer with mirrors as a recipient;

These words are me, 

If asked to look at someone, and use them as a muse;

Who else would it be?

 

I discard the limitations of feasibility with each beat

 The swiftness of my ink runs in parallel with a shooting star

Don’t be snared by the how, but by the why,

Try not to judge my self-appraisal

You learn to be an expert at navigating your own thoughts and emotions 

When you’re a refugee in the realm of a narcissist.

And that’s about as much backstory you’ll get out of me

From this incremental dose of poetry. 

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

Love yourself fiercely, but not at the cost of basic human dignity ❤

Alter.

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Solitude often feeds eventual madness,

Jeez, you’re telling me …..

Being uncompromising with my authenticity

Often means, I lose friends faster than I make them.

 

Sticking to my identity is a conscious decision

Staying true to myself despite the circumstances 

Means I end up disappointing someone regardless

It means in the eyes of those around me I sometimes come across as selfish

An acceptable casualty I’m willing to contend with 

Even as I get noteworthy push-back from outside influences.

 

Many are quick to steer you, quick to try and build harmony 

In a way that makes them feel good.

I question the validity

Of people founding terms which they believe are definitive enough

For anyone who they believe to be morally upright.

Respectfully denying their embrace, by default, brands you the next Führer.

 

Because harmony obviously means submission,

Harmony – if their position is to be entertained – is putting your free will on hold

Leaving choices on what’s best for you in their capable hands.  

 

You assume a position you have not earned

You trust me and immediately think I trust you

Yet you have no knowledge of how little I trust my own shadow.

My seclusion from much of what the world has to offer

Is a natural conclusion born of multiple cycles

Helping me formulate what I want

To be me, outside of you.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

Reminder No.789

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My mind often finds itself lost

Between the space running in parallel

With the time that keeps us apart. 

 

Depending on where you and I stand

These words will no doubt come across different.

When I share my story, my intention is not to harvest your pity.

No, not when I can do that exceptionally well on my own.

 

Nine out of ten dentists have nothing for this cavity

Naturally, It’s not a teeth thing,

It is instead, the emptiness I keep hidden within.

A void I shamelessly fill with material desires that do nothing

In the mending of my soul.

 

Took a long time to understand what strength means to me

It’s not the relentlessness of one’s conviction,

Or having hope that is absolute or concrete.

Strength begins in the admittance of weakness.

 

Strength, to me, is having the courage to be kind

To others and yourself

Despite having no incentive to do so

At all.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

//\\Burning//\\

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What am I angry about today?

I appreciate your forwardness

But that would have been a good question, had I,

Like many others, taken refuge

In considering only one avenue of thought.

 

No, the question I choose to engage in

Is what shouldn’t I be angry about today? 

‘Cause every day feels like a cleansing, having to dig deep,

Sifting through bags of dirt, trying to get to

That which I’m naturally drawn to.

 

How many have grown accustomed to garbage

To the point where the day-to-day

Has become a matter of finding

Which landfill shines the brightest?

 

Variety is the spice of life and yet I believe

 There a too many cooks looking to touch the lining of the cookbook

It’s over-kill; I mean, look at all the ingredients cluttering the cabinets

Look at all these wannabes donning chef hats

Sprinkling all manner of seasonings in the kitchen;

Hoping their vision of the right taste sticks,

All this with little regard for the consequences.

 

They preach visions from their wet dreams

A near clinical state of delusion,

Claiming to hold answers on what’s best

For you, me, everyone and the greater good.

It’s a shame

That those who know what they are talking about

Meld like clay,

With those who wish to be part of the aforementioned.

 

Watch how they flinch when I share my own worldview

That if there’s a heaven, everyone will make their way to it.

Because I believe God makes no mistakes with his creations.

But no, they say, those who do bad will burn, they say,

Like seriously, are you that sick?

So sick that you’d seek catharsis from the smell of charred flesh.

 

I spend as much time talking about religion as I do 

Tossing unlit molotovs at different riots. None.

I don’t judge you, so don’t judge me.

Do what works for you and let me do what works for me.

 

With the state of the world

It’s hard to know when you’ve got your hands on a sure thing

So excuse me for believing in a little more light,

Excuse me while I choose to believe in a world

With a better ending than the one transcribed.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Default Mode Network.

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You call it daydreaming

I call it reconnecting with myself.

You call it being aloof

I call it tending to my own business.

Don’t you see?

My vessel always does little to represent what I feel within.

I am, at the very least thankful it shows I exist.

 

It’s tempting, to reminisce over the past

How I might have done things a little better,

However, its a hole I wish to stay far away from.

The future? Ah, the future. All the possibilities.

Despite my cautious optimism, I try not to think of it either.

 

No amount of forward-thinking will solve what I need solving now

Highly in touch with my emotions, basing decisions on inherent values

Hard logic has never really been my strong suit.

I stick to the present because I don’t know,

I don’t know how anything from now

Till the end of this piece could change in ways

I would have no means to explain.

 

Despite living in every moment of every day

I deviate from making my thoughts systematic – a routine.

A mechanical, procedural, curation of events

Devoid of inspiration and agency.

 

Make no mistake, I have no control over my life

– Not absolutely any way.

But what gives me power is knowing I can choose

What I’m about to feel and do in the now

After all, that’s where I am.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

 

 

 

Words From A Falling Leaf.

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Anyone can write a story,

But it takes great care and consideration,

To write a good one.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami

Conversation(s) *recording included*

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Another day. Another recording.

In this segment, I talk about the process I use when choosing conversations to be a part of.

Which conversations do I consider worth my time?

As always, if you have any questions or thoughts, I’d love to hear them 🙂

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami