The Blessings of Solitude

Yes, this….

Sometimes you definitely need to get to that quite place to get to that workflow. As Franz Kafka put it, “Writing is utter solitude, the descent of the cold abyss of oneself”, had to share:

“I can only wish that you trustingly and patiently allow that grand solitude to work in you….It will act as an anonymous influence, akin to how ancestral blood constantly moves and merges with our own and links with that of the individual, never to be unlinked.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

Solitude

Probably one of the best descriptions of depression I ever read. Had to share:

 
“She felt so old, so worn out, so far away from the best moments of her life that she even yearned for those that she remembered as the worst… Her heart of compressed ash, which had resisted the most telling blows of daily reality without strain, fell apart with the first waves of nostalgia. The need to feel sad was becoming a vice as the years eroded her. She became human in her solitude.”

 
— One Hundred Years of Solitude (Cien años de soledad, 1967) Gabriel García Márquez

Un-Pretty

unpretty

She was fourteen when the uglies came
fourteen when she realized that she was un-pretty
You see her mom’s mother’s mother,
and her mother before that
began the process of digestion that would take place through generational blood cells that rejected what they considered…the uglies.
so she regurgitated this face given her by some fierce creator the moment her life began recycling the cycle of teens who refuse to simply look in the mirror
Why should she?
For the laying on of verbal hands became saliva that practiced the breaking down of insults that made this decision mushy, and easy to swallow
and proactive never helped out,
pushing indoctrination further into her mouth until she has no other choice but to chew smooth skin and straight hair with her teeth
was it her fault?
that when she looked in the mirror a strange girl is all she could see
and positive comments slid off of her chocolate skin like empty belief.
Satisfaction never molding this face into something she could see
Beauty
never pushing its mushed up reality down the back of her throat
this
pretty stuff
never making it through adolescence
never making it through to the esophagus
Un-pretty
It was all she’s known and all she could see
never mind her thought process to ever enter the second portion of the digestive tract
for she was stuck
stuck in a world where beauty rocked air force ones and apple bottom jeans
the prettiest trading her cookies in for a better face
this
pretty little face
or that celebrities were simply pretty little liars
because beauty never came with a price
Un-pretty
It was simply a disease, an infection
moving confidence back to the ugly shaped tears that arose in her throat
that generations of house slaves would teach her to stomach
this mushed up ball of ugly too weak to form strong muscles that could stop it from mixing around images of Beyoncé and her sister Solange,
muscles
that could not stop it from becoming pretty plastic properties of Nicki Minaj
WHO forgot to tell this sista…
That in her world of pretty,
pretty was really
un-pretty?

The Illuminati Obssessed Youth

Since every kid I seem to run into now days seems to be infatuated with the Illuminati, let me just say this:

Dear Young People,

Superheroes-2

The Illuminati is not a group of rich white men sitting in a dimly lit room around a table smoking Cigars. These are servants of the Illuminati (called The Order of the Illuminati) but they are not the real Illuminati. The real Illuminati are actually a group of Fallen Angels called Watchers who were to watch over mankind but instead came down to marry and have sex with human women. As a result, these produced Giants on the Earth called Nephillim (meaning from Heaven to Earth they came, the Benni Ha Elohim, or Sons of the Gods) and resulted in the great flood (Gen. 5-6). The “All Seeing Eye” is the Symbol for The Watchers, that’s why it’s an eye because it symbolizes their watch over mankind. There are lots of movies many of you enjoy that tell their story, such as many of your Super Hero movies, Hercules, Thor, Superman, X-Men, etc. Illuminati is for Illumination and is to symbolize the supposed light that Lucifer is giving to those who serve him (since he used to be the light bearer and all). Light is symbolic of truth and knowledge but this knowledge Satan is giving to the Order of the Illuminati (the human servants) through The Watcher angels under him is not a good knowledge, and his truth is deception: it’s a lie that is made to look like the truth.

SkullBones-322-secte-secrete-occulte

If you wanna know what’s going on get off of YouTube and pick up a bible. In Gen. Chapter 3 is the foundation to every secret society / mystery school to ever exist. (Example: The Symbol for Skull & Bones is a pair of cross bones over the numbers: 3:22, it is to represent Death and Genesis 3:22, man has become a God. They worship Satan outright because they say that Satan gave man Godhood). So, start there, but don’t walk around reppin the Illuminati, they are not your friends, and it has never been cool to worship the devil.

Broke up with my other blog

blogging

At least now I have an excuse to buy chocolates < What’s with this anyway? Where’s the book that says chocolate heals a broken heart? I can’t answer that for you, but I will say it is some prescription. But anyways, I’m digressing < seems I do that a lot.

So, as I was saying, a house of poetry and I finally broke it off. After just a year of hot and steamy poetry I just couldn’t do it anymore. I mean it was nice in the beginning no doubt, but I obviously have fidelity issues. I’m actually not that bad really. I mean, I haven’t thought of any new blogs to create ever since me and PBS started hanging out <why does The PBS Blog bring this smile to my face? See, that’s my problem, I’m in love with the PBS blog, not like we haven’t been over this already though (Ok, so I said the same thing about you, but why we bringing up old stuff tho?) And why am I explaining myself? It’s not like I have to report to a house of poetry posts anymore anyway. Not like I got metaphors hanging from dashboards and love notes between comments and whatnot. Speaking of which, I was really good to you so you can stop making me out to be the bad girl here. I mean, I know that you technically don’t exist anymore but you can give me some credit. You act like I just up and left. I did give you a warning this was going nowhere so technically I didn’t really cheat on you behind your back. Is it really my fault that you ignored the signs? Like you didn’t see all these followers easing their way to the PBS blog in the middle of the night.

Power of Words

Do you not know that your words declare to the world who you are?

Words.So-powerful-2-butterflies.com-posted-on-website-01.02.14

I’m starting to understand more and more the power we have as individuals and how we so readily give this power away with the speed of thought. One of the reasons I happen to love words is for the power that they hold. When you speak your words begin to act upon what has been spoken, in other words they live. Poetry then becomes such an attractive art because it’s not just the reading and reciting of words, but it’s the emotion and exact senses that encompasses the words that are spoken. I sometimes find it hard to really judge poetry because it’s such a personal part of the poet and there are so many different kinds of styles and tones. But the kind of poetry I really fall for is the delicious kind, the tasty kind; the kind of poetry that speaks so personally to the reader / listener that we will believe that this poem was a gift specifically granted to us. When I read a poem about running I want to feel your heartbeat, I want your breath to brush upon my cheeks; I want my feet to ache from the unforgiving concrete of the ground. I want to feel you as if I invaded your body only to live in your existence for the remainder of the poem. I want to be one with you on that intimate level. If you possess power, when you speak then so should I. That’s the kind of poetry that inspires me, and I must say the kind of writing as well; the kind that possesses power. I always encourage new poets to make sure their delivery is superb. Writing is in many ways the easy part, but when you approach an audience make sure they can feel what you felt when you wrote that poem. Don’t tell me its poetry, just paint poetic justice against the backdrop of heavy keystrokes. Let me “bathe in the blank wake of your passion and be kissed by white paper” (Mark Strand). Far as general speech is concerned we have to learn to stop being so sensitive. Nothing others do or say is always about you. Whether that’s blogging, writing, posting, etc, when we stop worrying about how others see us we can then stop being the victims of needless suffering. The power of words always comes back to self and what self is willing and not willing to allow in his / her space. A lot of the negativity we walk around with is due our own making, it is simply made up of elements we allowed to come in. We are thus bearing the burden of self inflicted scars, but we  should never let anyone dilute the power of our words. I’m realizing now that whenever we say that we “can’t” do something, we unconsciously weaken ourselves just a little bit more than we were just moments before. How much worse when we allow the words of others to do the same.