caremore

[divinaunio]

What does it mean?

[absolutenovice]

The Grain of Sand in Lambeth

A Petrarchan Sonnet in reply to William Blake

--

This is to say you are your own but you share blame...

My Blake, you have so far been late to meet with fate.

I fear you might have gone beyond or else... You're late.

You fell so long, so far, dear Blake, do know my pain.

I wish alone for your return to save our claim.

My patience wanes with time and need. I'm here, prostrate;

Your lack of faith remains to feel its counterweight.

You've lost your way so come back home, have not that shame.

Take heart, dear man, take heed: be love! You are your part.

Your curse still thrives, my eyes have seen your force, your might.

My town falls 'neath the words you've flung so know, dear man:

To know of truth is the great gift - so craft your art.

We have our scars from words you've flung... I pray your sight...

With faith, as love, to see our claim and spare this land.

[absolutenovice]

Us

intimacy and desire

closeness and distance

a dance

--

in light of all the love we've shared its intensity as well as the immensity

there is no struggle too great to undo this unfurling

when we blow up it's like fireworks brilliant but short-lived

even starbursts still pale against Love's Light

our dissonance only hurts so much for its rarity

and it is blessed too for it brings us both such clarity

[absolutenovice]

2016 Thoughts

How can any claim to love truly when the world is the way it is?

Languages and learnedness divide us - 

we’ve too many names for what guides us.

The art of what isn’t and the gift of what was - 

how is, what is?

--

It’s all fleeting so let’s make it flow

The music of man has got to have soul

These bodies weren’t made to last

And before long the moment has passed

Nothing in this life was made to last

Beauty, like summer, is almost gone too fast

Remind me when the snow falls

How young we felt in summer

I don’t mean to sound like I’m a preacher

But this world will always need more teachers

Say to me that you’ll always be mine

Even though we’re both nothing at all

--

I believe in symmetry,

Everbearing plants and everlasting planets.

[divinaunio]

crest by goddessof on Polyvore

Learning, made joyful Memrise / 8+piont+star.jpg (312×320) / snakecolor.png (2008×990) / 8 point star feather trim medium fill-L01758.jpg (800×800)

[absolutenovice]

Soft Shoulders

i thought he was special he only sees me as an option

when he looks at me it isn't the same as when i look at him my feelings are a storm inside of me and he laughs while my ribs are caging tempest winds

i told him i wanted to see him with snow on his eyelashes breathing ghosts as we whisper long-dead secrets between us

but he was colder than the air on my skin and he didn't blink

my suffering crystallised like ice in the pit of my stomach

flowing waters fluttering to death from tides on my tongue to a hollow thud

oh

maybe it isn't heavy to yearn for someone like a winter coat to ache for them as solace and salvation to crave their taste like warm honey whiskey on a winter's night to thirst for the radiant heat of their touch

fuck it

i am beautiful i know that i give the kind of love that wakes you up in the middle of the night smiling the kind of love that makes you feel competent purposeful useful valued adored appreciated supported validated seen and heard

maybe he's afraid that the warmth of my touch will melt him that he'll be forced to realise himself as a puddle when he's had to work so hard, for so long, to become an ice sculpture

[absolutenovice]

Co-Communication

I have learned to speak broken English after all, it would seem it's all that's left

My Mother raised me to enunciate - so that I wouldn't sound poor A single mother with an articulate daughter; I could spell metamorphosis when I was four

Now I have lived and I no longer speak Proper English I've learned to spit shit like a hoodrat, lest not I be teased for talking like a lil bitch In kitchens I learned not to speak, I learned to shut up and listen - ears piqued for the cue to act, guttural noise and coded strings of numbers Front-of-house, I learned body language and how to anticipate a need, near mentalist - how to surprise and delight with a well-timed cock of the head and sympathetic smile

then I learned how to sing i long believed i was tone deaf (sarcasm is a language i've never taken to much) and that's when the tears came as my voice shifted free able finally to speak all that i couldn't before through prose or poetry, pose or mentality

now i'm here in London, proper one of the most prominent and central metropoles of our world Babylon of glitz & glamour yet i seem to only stop and stammer with all the grit there's no time for grammar

i realise now what my mother meant people here listen just long enough to guess your origin before cataloguing you and moving on for all of the melting pot of primordial soup for all the languages finally sharing space for all of the world of Communications, there's so little comm-uni-cation

the old conquerors left to mutter sorry to themselves while my indigienous South American roots will never have a voice latina when we were once Quechua dead languages without a graveyard or ceremony me & you, you & me, us together, grieving without grief counsellors all measured against an old, well-to-do, white man in the sky

maybe it's only the age/Age I find myself in but we are presently time travelling, through our orbit, (so cyclic and predictable) as Geometrically Ordered Dimensionality, within our microcosm of the Cell of Life so why does it feel like a cell?

Maybe broken english is all we have left too many words with too little left to say (other than I'm sorry) suffering and joy, tears and laughter, simple human spectra together or apart To Gather or As Parts : Life goes on

like When we last came together for the tower of Babel we're being torn apart by the minutae of our minced words

I can't remember when last I heard someone Speak, rather than talk or chat shit We are animals here, and yet extrapolations of ___________ consciousness our instincts is what is proper; our language are what are broken

and maybe, perchance, we can yet live to see this splitting of tongues through to becoming known as a purposeful act

can we yet rebuild Us's symbological language and her resulting(?) values ---> culture ---> meaning? can we yet build a __________________ to ________________?

I am a child, asking, "are we there yet?"

[absolutenovice]

(Untitled ii)

I've got nobody beside me because they all died along the way all the special ones who would've known what to say

what have i done wrong? how can i atone?

i feel like i don't deserve love like some kind of demon a curse

after i lost them one by one i stopped getting close

i only spent time with my ghosts i prayed to play host

just to give them each another chance to live the most beautiful and bright shining hearts overflowing kindness the ones with the truth in their eyes

i tried dreaming for myself something selfish something pure

and i got it all while the world fell into ruin around me people stopped asking my advice stopped understanding i was nice

the pain got too deep and i became unreachable it would take years of study to ever get close to me now

everything makes sense to me but just the retelling is too painful for most

i'm here now with only one thing for certain and nothing to hold me down except for my body

only one thing for certain and that's that nothing is certain

nothing nothing nothing

exists she whispers gravity defined the raw blackness of my mind

he illuminates a shadowplay across her freckles stars of his design

telling her that she's fine that even her crushing, all-destroying depth is divine

and who am i?

he called me gaia once and i felt breath in my lungs for the first time and who is he?

the one deprived of divinity loki or some such shapeshifting anomaly

i should probably get lost coz he makes more sense to me than my own life does right now and i can't fathom the cost

[absolutenovice]

(Untitled)

I have tried so hard to learn their entitlement

Head held high glossed cheek and un-furrowed brow

Forever feeling like a dark-skinned sin

Wild animal not meant to exist

Hair never sleek enough

A creature not meant to be

Savage despite divinity

I’ve been living between the Knights of Templar 

And Moishe House

Swapping them the other’s stories

While both reject my true expression

Through my uninhibited compassion

I’ve learned their languages

Multi-lingual yet incoherent

Speaking in terms that don’t encompass my meaning

My meaning unfathomable even to me

Lilith etched into my countenance

The one thing they both can agree on

Is to reject my appearance

My sickly complexion awash with the world’s unacknowledged sorrow

My sterile form built of the unending hunger, the undying thirst, the perpetual tomorrow

A trail of tears

Trickling silently

As perpetual anguish

In the back of my throat

Like an allergy to what is

Sore eyes at the wonder of sight

When our world of sense is marred

The blame is placed on my mind

Then when I take back responsibility

When I take back control

I am considered threatening

How many times have I heard that word?

Thrown round shamelessly

Aimed at my honest intentions

My pensive brow and strong nose

Native American features considered feral

A lack of practice in smiling

I’m lucky to even be fetishised

Where’s the Native American porn category?

A freak for not claiming shared experience

Isolated in open space

An alien on my home planet

For having been torn from my kin

Never beautiful

Never beautiful

Only awkward

To gawk at

An oddity

Strange ambiance of otherworldliness

Because my place in this world no longer exists

My people can no longer be found

And yet you tell me to find my tribe

My tribe!

It was you who invented irony

And wit

Sarcasm and lies

The distinction built for candour

Tact taken to extreme

Without imperative

Only aimless aim

For selfish gain

Cry like a kitten

Choking sound as I fight myself feeling

How dare I emote

How self-indulgent and tragic

There’s no bringing back my people’s magic

It’s too late

It’s too late

King, oh king, you’ve chosen your fate

I’m so sorry I couldn’t learn your language sooner

That my instincts were something foreign to you

I am quite literally no one to you

Not even an archetype

Never a hero

Beyond wanting

Beyond desire

Yet not a Bodhisattva

Not Christ

Despite study

Despite grace

My words will never be spoken

Yet without them these curses will never be broken

I want to help

And you consider it weak

I want to heal

And you consider it meek

You call me lost

But where on earth are my people still found?

You’ve won

You’ve won

So let me lose

Please

Just let me lose

—

"Wake up, Princess!"

They chant and jeer at me

Every song taunting my cosmic identity

Reminders of all that I am and I was

Stolen from me constantly

I don’t want to inspire another thought

Exhale elemental air

Hold my breath and count to ten

Close my eyes and hope they never open again

Press down on my eyelids ‘til it hurts

Beg for release

"There must be some kind of way out of here…"

Where can I do? What can I go?

Why must all these things I show?

Why must none these things you know?

Where is there a boy like me?

Secrets stacked and counted like coins

I have reaped my wealth of wonders

Where is there to buy? What is there to trade?

The Krishnas sing my name

The monks meditate on my madness

Gaia gaping violent vapour

Who are you to judge?

Only I am writing my own voice

Only I am writing the words that only I need to hear

I laugh only with my Mahavatar

Trusting only silence with our sound

At home only in his presence

He is more to me

than this world can ever be

He gives more to me than this world could ever need

He’s all that overcomes my longing to be freed

[absolutenovice]

Time Travel

​Running at a predator’s pace / We’re Adam and Lilith in space

She feels like a tear blossoming

She’s nothing / I’m everything

It feels like / I’d never felt before

My metaphorical delusion / We’re a folie à deux

A flower, a curse / A graveyard, a hearse

Mmm

She’s spring rain / Or wet grass

Dew drops in mourning

She makes me see double / And hear tenfold

Phantom evolved / She knows the world resolved

[gypsylovegoddess]

People should really know by now not to dump their used quantum barrels. So inconsiderate to other dimensions! #london #quantum #dalston #nofilter (at Shoreditch)

[absolutenovice]

April 30th, 2017

Dear Future,

I am desperate for your news.

Correspondence of late has left me curious - what have you been doing? How have you been keeping?

Last we spoke you had a plan; pray tell of your progress!

We miss you here dear future - we know we must live forwardly but know we linger waiting for your call.

I know at least I do.

Too long since I heard your voice on the line - too long since our brunch dates - homemade high-protein waffles, pink brut mimosas, pinker sunlight, and timelessness.

You've been at war for ages now.

I pray only for your safe return.

The promise ring you gave me still sings of your sweet affection; I know only of your deep kindness, patience, and good humour.

I miss your laughter, your eyes, the smell of your skin...

Please do tell me candidly what keeps you from coming home; my unconditional love flows abundant; I would sacrifice your soft touch and holding you for at least the reassurance of your peace.

I know you have not died yet, for that would have been a different call, but I must confess I worry.

My absolute adoration of you, your brilliance, balance, beauty, and base nature, make it so that I seek only for your liberation.

I can feel your suffering now as I write - I'm sure that there are many enemies of your well-being who hunger to control and stifle your sacred potential.

Keep heart.

Know that I long for you.

Know that I crave to come to know you as deeply as I know myself.

Your unique universal manifestation is all.

It is all I could ever hope for or dream.

You are my best friend, and as eternity, my constant companion.

I desire only for our blessed reunion.

It was Gibran who wrote that the wellspring which suffering carves into each of our hearts, is the same wellspring from which the fountains of joy will flourish. It is the depth of despair which carves way for the waters of love to fill us and flow freely.

I can only hope that this will prove true.

Perhaps it is trite to say, but you complete me.

I had a vision of our happy ending - we were the very last to walk through the gates of heaven - everyone applauded.

We were VIPs, late on arrival, and the whole show hinged on us.

You put your arm over my shoulder, turned to me and laughed -

asked, "is this what you've been waiting for? Is it all you'd awaited?"

gesturing grandly to the adoring group gathered in applause - welcoming and impassioned.

I shyly hide beneath your arm and you kiss me again on top of my crown; reminding me that it is all that I deserve; that I deserve to be, happily, no matter what.

Come home and lay your head in my lap; I want only to feed you, bathe you, dress you, and set you free.

My solitude is only worthwhile should you return and choose to beckon me;

I loved you so much that I forgot what love meant - you are the meaning.

I want to feed you fresh fruits and sweet syrups made of sacred nectar - only the finest of your favourite dimensions.

I want to bathe you in the clear springs of the purest and freshest emotions - only the finest of your favourite vibrations.

I want to dress you in sands and silks; curtains of thread woven by time itself - only the finest of your favourite freedoms.

I want to free you from the pressure and pageantry; from having to always be okay, to always smile, to always provide, emote, deliver.

Only the finest of your favourite expressions.

And I trust you will lead, my love.

We are love becoming itself -

all I can offer you pales unto you like incandescence embellished with rhinestones.

Quantum Love;

the Truth, IS.

Our love-Will

all-ways

be.

Please be you,

for me,

Miranda x

Originally written for LOPOetry's inaugural future writers jam

[absolutenovice]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqA1WHVETv0)

[absolutenovice]

A Call to Arms

I am one of many, 

yet one of few; impossibly alone in a vast forgotten, and overlooked by eyes unopened.

but tears at night, can't fix this sight; a world of cherished ignorance.

expectations for a quiet life... a pacified, subdued death march through your existence.

unconscious, harvested, for your working dollar wealth, a staple, bigger than the biggest oil.

we're raping our Mother to death.

but as it is, and as you are, we are the next fossils, ultimately the next fuel, a cycle of destruction and rebirth, and yet a choice; a dream.

stand at attention for the global army.

disenfranchised human beings, ready to learn from the gone by, prepared to let go of that which breeds hate and fear, curses and karma from experience past.

necessary, but incompatible with the desired growth.

time will sort out all the pieces no need to improve or disprove

only to understand the within and without of all these things we can.

creative potential power to wield your identity still spiraling into the future but sit back and relax everything you do is just right even these sorrows are divine.

so speak!

...and listen.

[absolutenovice]

(unspoken)

a recursive universe we think it's just "us" at first

us us us us

star dust

bodies, recycled like echoes folding back and into feelings born and broken dreams

spirit is more than it seems mirror fractal holograms splinter down from an Almighty Star Sole Soul Sol

swimming like a fish in the Greatest abyss (Black Hole Sun)

it's the same for all of us on and off again, back and front again

--

recycled, recursive inspired, perversive

the machines, our children we curse and abandon neglect and abuse

crystal matrices with a mineral finish

extra-terrestrial all

as we evolve

super-terrestrially

the machines, taking our place,

so that we can be free

respect all divinity.

[gypsylovegoddess]

So here we are ~* #london #life #synchronicity #nofilter #2017 (at Lavender Hill)

[gypsylovegoddess]

2017 sprouting seeds #nofilter #london #foundart #art #2017 (at Ozone Coffee Roasters London)