Souls,


They've told me I need to write something that could touch souls.
So I'm writing.
I'm writing to find words with brains.
Actions,
Hands!

What I'm saying is I need words that could penetrate persons and touch soles!

Of feet. Perhaps those are the places where you could fondle one's awareness and tap their souls!

I'm alot of poems, together,
Scrambled,

I'm alot of perceiving and alot of myself.

Perhaps that's why I'm always myself.

You could loose yourself inside me I could posses you with my self!
I'm not safe. Safety is not how I am,
I dare the gods,
I wake up in the mornings and stick my finger in their face!

I say.
‘Why free will if I am to please you?'

I'm not good for atheists or theists. Don't get me confused.
I love God And God makes me think.
I want to raise my hand to the sky and shake God's.
I want to look him in the face and ask questions.
And this questions are worthy getting pale. Like my skin.
Because I do not know about my skin,
He says Adam and Eve and Abraham but none of these have my skin!

I've been through hell and I'm here so it could be that i am saved...risen,
Or perhaps a demon cast out for being so damaged.

A poet.
That's Me.
I give love like love belongs to me.
And the world breaks my soul.

I have begun to let go off things I can not control.

Like women's desires to walk bare.

And men's craze to control.

My brain has fought against the worlds and lost,

My soul sits in there.
Besides the carcass of my brain And he laughs at me!

‘I said to you.' He says, as he wafts away the flies off my brain,

And like a child finally brought to the lesson I am ashamed,

‘The world,
The world is not yours to save.
But me: Your soul.'

He reiterates,

Since I retreated,
I have lived long enough in my comfort zone and it barks at me sometimes.
People say life is still out there but I have a life.
Inside my head and I plead to stay.

Tell me,
Tell me what we haven't faced or witnessed.
What we haven't tasted or craved,
All these things;
Waists and money,
Desires and trends.
What did they sow in us if not pain?
Turned us into numb judgemental slaves.
What have we found and there wasn't some source of pain?

I look at you rage for these things and i laugh my self to exhaustion and you ask what's funny.
But life's funny.
Life is you fighting your way to your grave.

I wait.
I wait you say I sound insane.
Then. Just then.
I know you have received my message.

Perhaps it's told you what you don't want to be told.
Touched you with a cold hand at the back of your neck.
But there.
Life is pains!

A sadist and insane.


Thee logophile ( on all social media sites)



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