Subtle_Suggestions

A blog about nothing | A passion's manifestation | HI

[subtle-suggestions]

Closing Thoughts

It's nearly 3am and I don't know how I got here. I fear my troubles aren't as fleeting as the laughter I don't even recogniize as my own. I have been in solitude long enough to see plainly, my hermitage cannot in the slightest be mistaken for the transformation of caterpillar to butterfly for if I left now, I would be indistinguishable from when I came. Such elegance is reserved for beings of life, of which I am reluctant to claim any resemblance towards. It's nearly 3am and I am demoralized with no calvary in sight. Of course it could just be my eyes, puffy from beating myself up in a fight I always seem to lose. Or maybe there just simply isn't, in which case how does one save themself from themself? Easy... Forgive and forget to give up.

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My Home

 Everyday when the morning breaks with sunny yolk, gliding down the scarred back of the Ko’olau I see trees tip toeing with bed hair, flying their leafy kites while men go to work. I hear the civilized commotion in symphonic unity with nature’s native tongue, spoken through the hues of blue and green. I am merely a man amongst mountains, a child of volcanic ash and rain. My feet holds hands with the grass in the simplest love While the trade-winds whisper of foreign pastures and the possibility of greener.  

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A man cannot despair if he can imagine a better life, and if he can enact something of its possibility

An Entrance to the Woods, Wendell Berry

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Subtle Movements

Reflecting the busy clouds, lay idle, a watery death Look how evaporated drops bear the struggle, a writhing climb back upwards A war affair with gravity for euphoric fulfillment  God this hope is lost in most  The bedridden ones sick of self, too eager and easily broken Our cities littered in puddles We are stuck watching clouds pass us by, tattooed on the pavement—stationary Left to wonder if the ocean exists If it doesn’t we are blessed not to know And if it does, then clouds are wise to migrate and we are fools for questioning them Fluidity is adaptation Fight for bigger currents and pray for oceans Poseidon’s heir you are next in line

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Indefinite Reverie

This bundle of joy, I organized a couple years ago.

 For those unacquainted with 8tracks allow me the honor of introductions. This amazing site houses playlists, crafted by humans of all musical tastes and inclinations, for the world to digest. Simply “Explore” and combine 3 different moods, genres, activities, and/or artists to find a playlist or mix.

In my time with 8tracks (3+ years) I have stumbled across mixes dedicated to: Native American flutes, slam poetry, youtube originals/covers,  game soundtracks, and of course, parties of every known variety. Indeed 8tracks is a refreshing music experience and escape from its automated competition. Join its community and see your music library blush shades you’ve never seen, I swear. 

I was totally foreign to genres like indie/folk before uncovering 8tracks. Great bands/musicians I’ve found since are just an extension of that first interaction. 

Seeing as how this particular mix has gone Diamond (10,000+ likes) I’d like to invite you, to see if it fits your present musical needs. Indefinite Reverie was crafted with studying in mind — 203 songs — 13+ hours. 

Mainly features Acoustic/Indie/Folk/Singer-Songwriter/IndiePop/IndieRock. Some of my favorites including:  - City and Colour - Lighthouse and the Whaler - Lord Huron - Paper Kites - The Head and the Heart - The Oh Hellos

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The night sky’s ceiling is wrapped in an anchor blue tonight, with only a handful of starry chandeliers to keep me distracted. My hands are exhausted from drawing thoughts, creation in general. I wish to listen, to coexist with the universe once more.

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A Spilt Star

I sit perched where three little birds have brought me, amidst An ocean painted in light Stuck wondering if the Sun looks back as eagerly, as if we are the reason it wakes The day’s tension subdued, atop a cliff in hushed stillness This moment is my own, safe from life’s thievery I sit entranced while Gods dance without music Elegance in motion — serenity in flight Ocean & Sky As I silently greet the universe I strip the night's worn thoughts like wet clothes And use the rest of the paint to stay warm Breakfast, was meant to be eaten naked

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Subtle Differences

You stumbled upon me my dear but I found you

A moment unexpected gone and past, had favored our union Yet, unbeknownst to that poor fellow I would be your trial and error, and you The one that got away

I was a detour, under construction Determined to you, my ever fleeting destination

As I gathered my things off the bus and stepped three times down I turned for you and saw only the tortured and scarred back of the Ko’olau  The sun and sky judged me forsaken then The billowing plumes of black exhaust masked your disappearance  And there I stood, now your memory, and you my tragic love story

I hope you find someone my dear. As for me I will stumble along until death by faceplant or love by gravity 

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Neat With Words: Shinji Moon

It started as a phase, this poetry nonsense. I was infatuated with feelings, as if words could encapsulate them, I’d allow the poetry to spill across my lap under waterfalls of lamplight colored walls. I have long misplaced and forgotten the compass’ that led me to this particular puddle of stars, but for its service I am indebted.

Because THIS book

Is rapturous beauty, an intimate warmth, and so sure of itself. Indeed, I urge you to drink its words and feed your thought’s elation. 

Shinji Moon’s The Anatomy of Being is a collection of poetry rich in elegance and clever in speech. She is a kindred spirit to the elusive introvert inside us all. And I offer this glimpse to you, a piece of consciousness to pocket forever, to play your heart a million different ways to Sunday. 

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Somewhere above the earth beneath a tent of stars; my company on this night. Stay afloat my midnight marauders ☕

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Welcomed Light - My Ink Blotched Night

Day’s end with a convulsing sky As the last bird is sent fleeing scorched iron malice Walls breached — keep taken Such was the state to which i conceded under moon; my last words a man’s life To pen your thoughts is the culmination of the universe Yet, always the day becomes anew with dust to settle Here — eternally — a moment in the blackest space Carving out white to bury ink soaked bones I lay to rest beside a closet empty and anchored heart The pages having raced behind each other exhausted too What lovely white so pure hugging burnt thoughts My eyes bathe in the sea of horizons keeping these ship-wrecked tales from bottled cages 

Hear my ocean drown smiles it carries the weight of stars