Time Pushes Perpetually

Coming up on 5 years with eyes that can see
soooo much has happened its mad!
I guess all those tears brought my eyes clarity
revealing a life of perpetual fads

It's all kinda sad that this conveyor-belt ride
doesn't pause for the seemingly real
The depth that was had is just another passer by
one that requires more tears to heal

The unchanging God who leads me by the hand
has become more real than life
all these things that I feel like I can't understand
are peacefully taken in stride

Frustration at Regressive Progression

What happened to a stable world, revolving round the sun
a place where predictions were fulfilled, where id finish what id begun

Wheres the foundation of openess, a safe place to find myself
burnt like the bridges i thought id always cross, back and forth on the path to health

Burning ambitions replaced by grim confrontations as a new battle gets thrown in the mix
spiderweb decisions rob me of my independence as each conquest comes with more cracks to fix

A game of pickup sticks played with fragile souls
who dont question the job descriptions of their self-assigned roles

Tradition and emotion were never logical things, being more circular than progressive and true
Excillation of manipulation, and the defence that it brings, is a destructive route for us all to go through

A glimpse of May

Her vibrant mimicry resonates with my core
and the alignment is not cos of me
Confinement of loyalty to a cause I adore
is the highest definition of free

In the land of the free I'm among my own kind
Our stripes are the stars in our eyes
But as I reach for those stars it seems hard to find time
to breathe in the ascension in height

And does ascention in height come at the expense of my roots?
Am I cut off from the past that I am?
A tree that's imploded will not produce nourishing fruits
like these crammed days are no good for my land

But it's all in my plan, and mine's all in His
as He floods me with this wave of intrigue
I do understand that in the virtue business
it's the blessing of practice we need

When postmodern podcasts cast doubt on these points
am I venturing into water too deep?
When my feet leave the floor as I pursue these exploits
Will my love of the flood stop retreat?

Getting Over the Burst Bubble

The carriage that we were relying on riding in
turned back into a fruitless pumpkin and something just
dissolved all the wool that was pulled over our eyes
The warmth it provided helped us sleep through the blindness

Til the Son's light could find us
though it hurt darkened eyes with
the radiance of change that's inherent inside it

We were warned that the fire that was simmering
was a breeding ground for paracitical demons
And now that the fumigation has set it,
it's ironic how clear this new air is for breathing in
and out...

But fumigation can't get under your skin
So running across oceans doesn't stifle emotions
And the erosion of my energy leaves me temporarily
in a black sand pit but I know these waves spit me out.

'Til the Son's light imbibes me
and sparks light inside me
and the radiance of change does its work to revise me

Moderation

A song I am working on about the glass ceiling that most of us live under. Not questioning, not challenging, just like the powers that be want. Moderation saps the sacred life out of me. I'm sure if you look deeply enough, it does the same to you.

Cyclical Revolutions of Evolution; Progress?

Subconscious preconceptions shape the lenses we look through more than we can realise. Evolution ensures physical progression, but is out of our hands. Philosophy and being bold enough to challenge assumptions is what sparks psychological progression, and has been laid into each of our hands.

Dropping preconceptions is not easy to do
Being the exception plays to Individualism's rules

The tools and rules our minds exploit to carve out consciousness
are evolving like our species and contain a few useless remnants

Like the 'tailbone' of competition that causes a basal kind of pain
The jealousy that preserved the apes makes us revert to them again

Nothing's the same yet life's cyclical; our children wear our worn out genes
And dropping preconceived jeans in public is much harder than it seems.

Abstractions are all we have to describe the concete

waiting...
but PRESSED for time.
When the circular track I run around in my head collapses, I come home to myself more often and run around less.
But yet cover more    d i s t a n c e.
A distance that has nothing to do with space; like love has nothing to do with time.
You're not gonna find It in It's s ym  b o l; mistaking the means for the end means the end.
But more writing follows the period.   (2012)
Can we rise above these words, or delve below them?
What do we find in the collective unconscious besides the unconscious.
The floodlight of the mind probes away for symbols to allow it to translate the untranslatable - essence.
Sometimes it does a good job.
That's when I truly meet you.