STOP AND THINK!

"The real distinction is between those who adapt their purposes to reality and those who seek to mold reality in the light of their purposes"
Henry Kissinger

Can you hear?

The sky tells secretes only the free could hear...

This is the intro to a book I recently was inspired to write...

In a world of fast talk, too many rules and far too many looks. It has become apparent just how hard it is to find let alone hold on to love. People fall asleep while being wide awake and then close their eyes in the precise moment they feel alive. It seems like no matter how hard you may think you know what you are doing, life stops to remind you the control lies on the very thing you can't put your finger on.This a story of a modern love! A love that ends before it has even begun. Not really meant to be understood. Instead, it plays by its own tune. Making you swoon and awe, never allowing you to catch your breath, stopping to caress your cheek just when you want nothing to do with it. The poison before the pearls. It waits patiently for a slip, a bite of your lip. The exact moment to cause the beat to pulsate impatiently. This journey like so many was never meant to be, not fitting anywhere and at the same time what is on the mind in everyway. Letting it in is costly, however, you realize that since its arrival you were open to lose, a bargain that storms in and carries with it up into the sky swirls of everthing you thought you were sure of.......

Higher Higher I glide threw the whislte on the rise. Rain has me feeling sweaty, come inside.
How has the Buddha spoken to you today? It whispers secrets to keep from the ones who seek in discrete. Bound by the lounge calling my name, unraveled behind the melody. I want to bleed my ideas onto the blind, the warmth will be felt. Drink from it before it loses its thickness. Living too fast paced, need to pause, drinking water clearly regenerate the joints to groove. Roaming the streets in search for an interesting creatures. Notice details. Dead or alive the reasoning searches beyond that. My simplicity is taken for granted. The weak eyes gleam at the sight of a shiney stone. All I see is the pair of a child's hungry hands digging relentless through the creek insearch of at best the week ahead's meal. The faint spirit is leaking. How do I mantian a blank page for us to recite a movement towards. Separate from the fake. Time is due for some exploring. A journey filled in a loud silence that allows my mind to bond. A garden to smell the sweet scent of colors and touch new sensation. Vibration trembles with anticipation.

First draft was taken lightly, unrelated. Feeling the subtle snare. Reread, by the fourth developed a strong sense the writing pointed towards a precise direction. Section after section. Will not dispute the account for they are lucid and pure. Words meant to penetrate. Combine the energy to create, possible slate to debate, egnite brainwaves to feel sane, widen the horizon with.Share your intriciies. UR Pretending had created quite a large knot in my intestines, timing ill. Drained blood, initiated new cells. Rejuvinated. The fall of leaves have brought new perplexities. Work must be done under placid levels of relations. Romantic involvement will distract the aim. So, much to completely devour. Indebted u saw what was rebuffed. Union meant to be, recite the profoundness that lies within our vines. Distracting the proof. A big hooded sweater keeps me calm. The speech you lack will hold you back. Project, redirect the focus notice the vibes collide. Allow the air to fill the pair clean. Allow the gleam to procreate, stop the rate process. Listening is far more powerful than u give it credit for. Save restraint for compulsive behavior. Caution, so caution will view life on a transit bus ride. Fast, blurry full of worry. Alas laxed, clear is the road I tend to. Prone to weakness of the body. Uncommitted is less thorny. Should of listened. Can't live that way. Things are happening, ambition on a pedestal. Was willing to pause my motion, gratefully was slapped some sense still see fairytales are not saved solely for film. Concentrated on giving that love to the only chromosome that reserves it, my sun. Being in Love....still awaits.

Neurons tremble nervously, more than my skin is revealed through the dim reflection of light the street lamp outside curiously slivers in. My posture is tense, rents due. Too much on the mind, keeping an easy pace will keep my feet from sinking. Gliding through each obstical, dodging provokers.

The earth is sobbing, holding its roots in place for saken. Debating whether tomorrow should bring in reins of hell and fiery. Display a Spectacle for all to heed. Lift the stars of a falling sky. Glaciers liquefy reluctantly. The poorest countries most vulnerable creates a facade, a veil to cover what will come. What will it take to make us see? As much as it takes to care without stipulation. Caring isn't stylish. Fuck all who Fetish. Stress less is the American way create every possible gadget to carry out meaningless tasks. The ground develops a rash from all the human trash continuing to breed. Politicians so cleverly ask all the wrong question , "Could you please elaborate, I can't understand..." while the earth obliberates, dissolving through my son's hands. My eyes cry tears of blood, angry at all who have become acclimated to Atrocities committed daily to a mother whose nature pleads for her seeds.

How do I manipulate them all, to have a weakness for the beauty I see in that lonely tree with no leaves? Bare, unable to conceal the pain it desperatly waits to heal. Kneel down and fancy me once again. Climb my arms and see for yourself how wonderful the veiw of blue waters and purple skies hide behind its sighs. Smile at me if only with your eyes. Take a moment to linger and change the course. I plead unafraid playing my spades.