lAtesT uNconditionaL wIsdoM -->

With wit sharp as words can weave.

Your beauty is something to behold & believe.

Concise and elegant in expression and word.

Honesty and seductiveness such limits unheard.

Depth behind those eyes of brazen pride.

Many men inimidated to journey but I am well supplied.

We can hold sensual intellectual conference till any night is through.

I’ll come well equipped for any combo of mind, body, spirit you wanna do.

I’ll leave you unwrapped and physically deepend so you can get your best.

If my evidence and vocab are underwhelming put me to any form of test.

God must have made you out of godess Aphrodite image supreme.

Just out of my reach so I could ambition to collect on the challenge of a dream.

When the light of your mind’s eye catches on memory of me in your immagination;

Remember who I am, my embers glow for thought of you - my passion’s sensation.

Seeping past the capacity of forgiveness.

Wrapped myself in idiocy nonetheless.

Chaos and alter ego bound in self destruction.

Ignorant to tides of written or spoken instruction.

Accept my warmest apology wrapped in reason.

Tantamount action seemingly personal treason.

I’m my own mountain of personal insurrection.

I picked all those words so it was my selection.

It’s hard not to be burdened by life these days.

My true friends understand patience pays.

Overwhelmed by the teeth of this grand life.

My ambition cuts through me and causes strife.

Hands on god’s back gaining ground through faith.

Cold claws in my flesh from pain’s eternal wraith.

My heart stuck on simulation until my absolution.

I shall breath positivity out as an interim solution.

I’m writing this for someone in particular who I know doesn’t read my blog and probably won’t read it because I’m not going to tell them I wrote it but nonetheless I feel like I have to get it off my chest and put it in the air.

Yeah, hun, with me it’s stop or go, I don’t have much of a throttle.

I chase my heart’s desire and my feelings can’t be kept in a bottle.

I have learned to slow measure my life as I have aged but I am who I am.

You’d like to hold against me how I got here and all I have to say is, damn.

Yeah, I don’t have the best of patience but I make up for that flaw in raw ambition.

If you knew my true self like that I feel I’d have you plottin, projectin and wishin.

Now that I’ve seen what I need, it may not be you but it’ll be hard to be with less.

My life is made up of the lessons god wants me to learn seemingly in emotional undress.

I have to believe he sets me up for success by making me feel the pain of temporary loss.

I’ve owned everyone else’s pain in the past and my heart is weakened from bearing a cross.

Maybe you should understand why I feel you’re different or maybe it’s not for all that.

I honestly don’t have the fight in me to know what or where my soul’s balance is at.

I guess I should speak your name to the wind and let an equivelent take your place.

I don’t know how you got me out on an empty road, no shoes and wanting to race.

I feel like I’ve been stripped bare of my logic and whispering to the winds of afterthought.

You left me with this definition of woman that seems impossible but now must be sought.

Yeah, my last situation was something that took a lot out of who I was.

You reminded me romance & adventure filled my whole world at one point, just because.

However, I take a lot from the smallest of experiences and you taught me.

I have this high standard for what a woman will have to show and be.

Tati, Damien, LaVonda and I were sitting in the office last night after work and decided to put together a poem. Each of us put together two lines. Turned out interesting enough but I’ll leave you guessing on which lines are written by who… Here it goes:

Luxurious lively lovely lips almost liquid.

Can I canabalize this moment like a dish for a kid?

Perfectly pimpin slightly perverted.

Usually pervase but ever so poised.



Lovers no more, opens the the door to a lustful allure of life

Almost forgotten forever.

Insanity is my only link to reality.

So if you love me to infinity why is tomorrow promised to no one.

Lost in my translation of between and my beyond.

Cold cast iron soul dust in a warm summer pond.

Feeling unconcealed, unrecognized and chaotically reeling.

Sight to sound and heart vocals to bottom out on the ceiling.

Assert the grip of confidence on that unknown and unheld.

It’s not spoken out of lips but still feels syllabally spelled.

My love is grander in form but yours in lent and borrow.

Can’t feel my insecurity beyond this unforgiving tomorrow.

Tension for the gut but camamile to the mind’s eye.

A gallon of ease and ounce of shadows on your lie.

It’s dense mist for those who can’t see a foot in front.

It’s fire in your cool tongue but uncaring and blunt.

Don’t be quick to speak on truth from casual passing.

See what you can imagine in the mist of intellectual fasting.

 

Here I am, being me in a way that I may not choose for my own.

Secretly, I could be choosing something my soul’s already sewn.

Turns in life’s path that can draw my walking pace to rapid chaos.

Sweeping tornado of beauty’s pleasant gain and mighty misery of loss.

Not one to be consumed with pleasure and cast away former gain in disregard.

Groomed for patience, ease and measure but now dealt an unusual card.

Under my mind’s watchful eye I must not give a second or third glance.

Challenged by my soul’s changing election as it forces the arms of chance.

Some decisions are fruit for the picking and you get one or another selection.

Some moments your soul casts in stone your choices to illogical direction.

A man’s life is filled with fruit for the soul giving some rotten and some ripe.

Guilt for desire to in all things be filled with gloriousness of every stripe.

Such ambitions make good men great but are at the core of man’s vice.

What’s pleasant can be wicked and what’s good for the soul isn’t always nice.

What’s wet isn’t always rain and you can’t shake the unshakable to submission.

If the you inside you has a solid now purpose then let that you do the pitchin’.

No truth was ever achieved without the blessing of god and knowledge of self.

The tragedy of knowing one’s self is knowing what may have to be put on the shelf.

Things made in pursuit of passion can be as beautiful as they are danger filled.

Juicy and smooth are less attractive when your cup is empty and spilled.

 

Amorphic ageless ailing artistocrats ambling across air.

Baseless bearish bums backwardly bumbling born bare.

Canabilistic callus changelings charioting charm.

Debonair detracting dastardly demons disarm.

Edible elite educated effemniates everywhere.

Famed fools feverishly feigning female fare.

Gold gaudy gods gambling gangly gashes.

Hot heavenly heartless hordes hold hashes.

Inward imbeciles imply inline impish idiosyncrasies.

Joking jackals jacking jewels jaming jamborees.

Kabbalistic kerosene kings kneel knowingly.

Low lawless lambs limerick listening like larceny.

Misty meek mothers mold marks make mildness.

Noble needing nesting nothings net nevertheless.

Open ordered ostercised orcs own oases.

Plush plump patrons petting prime paces.

I must have inherited the daylight from when I was a seed.

I cherish the night but do my best to subdue my lustful greed.

I am my own impediment on occasion but block the blame.

My appetite has no bottom and cares not of my history or name.

It’s gray for me to be the way I feel but speak in a different tone.

My vices could run me down if I chose to step out and become alone.

I’m casually pressed on the edge of chaos teetering on a gusting breeze.

That careless presence is what keeps me balanced and at visual ease.

Knowing this moment could crash my being and detract my life’s score.

I sinfully hold my eyes in gaze at my future as my tongue wags for more.

The moderation of less in my soul gives me the path to eternal success.

A constant turmoil with my creature side who’s goal is an eternal mess.

In dark days I feel little to no fear because I own dark within my soul.

In bright days I hold my light high as humanity’s illuminessence is my goal.

But no man is stronger than his borders so one must hold some line.

Personal revision is our art of life so our intersecting paths allow us to refine.

 

It’s in the self serving of most goals that I be who I can’t help but be.

In some ways I’m a father, a peasant of my company yet a man who is free.

But in others I’m capitivated by the surrounding bind that glues me to my family.

I shuffle my own desires about the box that is my life, sometimes unserving to me.

The sun shines on my back and warms my soul for the loving sacrifice.

At the humble altar of toil for which a man gives his sweat for a bag of rice.

Responsible for the stray thoughts who lead to idle hands gambling like dice.

For every moment is production and through it production becomes a vice.

To hold a child high on light and call it’s name knowing that it’s of you.

This is a gift, a burden and a reward that gives and takes you through.

To see deep in the eyes of your love and know she depends you be true.

This is a gift, a burden and a reward that reflects what you need to do.

Every day has it’s gift and that present is yours and yours alone.

When you attract abundance through depth of desire your reward is grown.

No desire is greater than the pride of showing your family’s flag flown.

From two we come and through two we give one at a time as our flag is sewn.