The Wooden Shoe Project

A sanctuary for the playful expansion of thought and perspective; with the intention of chiseling away cultural conditioning and expanding personal reality.

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4am

Nothing is real It's all empty desire Unfolding karma

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A Simple Morning Hug:

You are a salve to my suffering.

A respite from my pain.

A place to lay my head,

And let go of the weight.

You give me comfort and hope.

And in your arms,

I find the place for my heart to rest.

With a single embrace,

You refresh my soul,

And remind me,

We are at home in each other.

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Just trust:

Sometimes I forget, and I think I’m in control

An anxiety arises that things are going to hurt

This feeling hangs around for a little while

Then I remember that all I need do is trust

The issues and anxiety seem to fade away

At least for a little while, until I forget again

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Ending:

A rising sense of distrust

Proven through apologetic action

Maybe it’s make believe

All in my head

But there is a seed of doubt

Enough for me to fall back

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Windup:

I fill up on emptiness

And disinterest arrises

Nothing inherently wrong

It is just all so routine

I add variety for its spice

To become familiar too soon

I fill up on emptiness again

Only for disinterest to return

Another endless cycle

Just something to accept

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A Archetypes Arrival:

In my mind I have hooves, and the legs of a goat

My torso is my own, but leaner and stronger

My head is my own, but with his long horns

My nails are my own, cut, but I feel his sharpness

And when I move, he does the same

And sometimes, when he moves, I do the same

It is getting hard to tell who is more real

Is it me imagining him, or him imagining me

There is a weight in my mind, a type of knowing

That when he arises there will be nothing left of me

And all that will remain is the timeless horned god

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Spontaneous:

The flowing water

A tree falls into the stream

Seamlessly engulfed

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Natural:

The beautiful moon

Resting among the heavens

Effortlessly shines

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Endless:

A light house with its bulb long burnt out

A chimney so clogged with sap it can’t billow

A young heart too early on its last beat

A general neglect left unchecked

Forgotten to decay, rot, and death

Everything will be destroyed

Only to begin again as a light

To find its way back to the same end

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The Solution:

Depression is anger turned inward

So I guess I hate the world

So fuck all of you

I hope you die right now

And whoever is left over

Maybe we can make up,

hug, and restart the world

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They call me:

Socially inept, but I’m only quiet

Whore, but I’m simply free

Retard, but I’m just trying my own way

Why can’t they call me something nice?

Maybe I speak quietly with my heart?

Maybe I let my love go where it desires?

Maybe I simply value my own experience?

Is it so bad that I follow my own path?

If you think so, then that is okay

Hate me for my choices

I will still love you

Stay protected in your judgments

And I will continue to be free

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When I disappear:

Vacant eyes see the leaves dance in the wind

Disinterested, the heart beats a quiet drum

Figures pass silently, a sense of nonexistence

Emptiness rests all around, nothing remains

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Unspoken words:

There is something here

Something that I cannot pin-point

But it exists none-the-less

And whatever it may be

It is something I will always cherish

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My Heart Is Sand:

You are a gift

A treasure

When you turn me away

I still love you

You teach me to open

To have compassion

To continue to love

Though I get shattered

I hurl myself into you again and again

Just for a moment

To taste it through another

To know that which is in me

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There is no place for fear, so trust, and go forward.

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Oceans Melody:

“All be good,” said the old man sitting on the tailgate of his truck with a bongo by his side. He was by the ocean, and he listened, but didn’t play. There was already so much music to be heard.

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Eternal, A Haiku:

It is in all things.

It is just behind the eyes.

Nameless in each breath.