Posted in Floetry, Misc. Poetry

Wolf🐺Tribe (poem)

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Posted in Spoken Word Videos

🌟 No One’s Like You (Spoken Word Video) 🌟

At some point in your life you’ll come to find that no one does “too much crying” quite like you.
No one does dying every time you run the reruns of past mindfucks quite like you.

The intrusive thoughts layered on top of intrusive thoughts like papier-mâché.
The knots in your aorta.
The knots in your stomach,
In your throat… Everywhere!
No wonder why you’re so blue…

The boulders on your shoulders,
The obsidian stones housed in your intestines,
Miles and miles of intestines,
The stalactites jabbed into your heart one by one…
No one wears them quite like you.

You’ll come to find that no one emits sunshine
from their eyes in the midst of typhoon quite like you…
No one dances in the monsoon when all they want to do
is run for the mountains quite like you.

The two conjoined rainbows that make a halo,
The sequoia and cherry blossom tree hybrid that makes your torso,
The star dust that ascends from skin when nobody’s looking…
No one wears them quite like you.

There is no one, NO ONE quite like you, so take the dark and the light hues life tosses at you and paint a ceaseless night sky out of them, and please know this as you look skyward and beyond:

That’s you in a form most true.

Posted in Spiritual Poetry

Wise Elephant 🐘

I shrink.
More room to think
when I’m the elephant in the room no longer.
Much stronger,
those roots and that trunk.
I shrunk
my ego into the size of a 1 by 1 Lego block.
It still hurts my sole to step on it, but that won’t last.
A smaller ego serves as the soul’s teacher.
And if I’m an elephant in the room now, it’s a wise one.

 

 elephant GIF

Posted in Spiritual Poetry, Words of Wisdom

Gatekeeper (poem)

Tomorrow is a worry house that willingly, no one calls home. But it calls on them. Takes the mind in its uncertain hands and distorts it. Makes a fort for it and only spoon feeds it what-ifs and shoulds and cants and more what-ifs.

Today is as tangible as air, as dry sand in tight clutch.

The home awaits. How long we are looming over morrow’s gates is entirely up to us. And we won’t be freed until we realize the gatekeeper is none other than ourselves.

Posted in Spiritual Poetry

Abodes


The soul self may not be as tangible as the physical self but it’s there. At least I’d like to think so. 🙂