On All Levels

No more than you.

We just think

More or less

Of our self,

And of eachother.

Broken Records.

Every level.

Then we see it and hear it and think we know.

So slow the game we’re playing,

But they say, Blink of an eye.

Right? Like overnight.

Like a dream,

And we want em good,

But they’re all over the map,

And then out of this world

Where the lines fade from sight.

Passing Through

I’m passing through.

I’m on my way.

I don’t get stuck

Throughout the day.

On a path, within the road. No avoiding getting old.

Certain things I need to do. Ensuring that my dreams come true.

Clearer now, the way to be. I’ve learned to learn the way to see…

Things and stuff, they come and go. See past those things and you will grow… the way you should.

Hooked

Sometimes it’s the bait.

Sometimes it’s the Hook.

Sometimes you have no choice,

But to turn the page of the Book.

Where you at with this?

Have you Evolved?

Or, are you that same kid from High School,

That thinks he has this Solved?

Where do you think you are going?

You gotta slow Down.

Forget what you’ve learned,

And just look Around.

And, then just keep looking,

And get outta your Head.

You’ll begin to see things differently,

Despite what you’ve Read.

Honey for Lori.

She’s content… but she’s a little bit anxious. Happy, but a little unsettled. And…. she’s ready to play…. but she’s happy to lay… around… in the sun… or the shade. She loves the breeze.

She just wants to be… with what’s good.

Like a hike…. taking the path of joy… by choice… though the trails of pain are there. The trails of doubt, and with the fear and unknown.

Gotta leave it alone. Gotta live with the music. The good song…. where we’ve left behind and alone the weight and shame. Where that game has faded away.

She didn’t ask to be made to walk with pain. She’d have never done what she did. So many times, when once is too many, for anyone. Just a kid. So unbelievable sad…. to be hidden from love the way she was. Ohhhhhhh Lori. Lori. Lori Lori. My sweet sister. I’m so sorry for everything. We didn’t ask for this, and now you’re gone forever.

I wanna sit here in the shade with you, and the breeze, and just be with you… again.

Living the Dream

I cherish the time, in-between-things.

The space without, all the bull-shit life brings.

Just space to breath, and the time to unwind;

A Stepping-Back. A need to remind….. myself…. that things are ok. That I can handle the stuff that’s coming my way.

I just wish I had more time, away from Selling; non-alignment with others, pushing and defending what I believe in, and dealing with people.

If I’m being honest with myself, I believe my happy place is a day to day, where I’m not having to answer to others. Rather, I’m producing art, what I want, how I want, and when I want.

Perhaps it’s doable. That my work would be appreciated and bought, such that I’d be more than a starving artist.

It begs the question… is the starving artist happier, or equally tortured?

I suppose the logical path is to begin the dream on the side.

How many of us will never get there?