The Crimson Bath

Post prism

Depression

Angular dissension

Grandiose

A delicacy, a toast

For those lacking light the most

And so I drift away, to a place I once knew so very well,

A universe unlike this one, a place where homes are carved in stone,

Where troublesome letches rove the dark extensions

Hours in comatose

Stumbling cross the craggy fray

Middling moments

Of great reverberation

Songs of echoic chants repeat their play

Over and over, again and again

I can’t get their words out from my head

Fur placed by river’s shore

In the water I reflect upon atrocities

So soon forgotten despite their retention of warmth

Like spores popping conscientiously

I see my face in its entirety

A slow step back brings my frame to focus

And the memories flood my thought canal

         Painting cornerstones a myriad of shades

The vivid and the off hue

For an eon it seemed to stand

A frozen man, without

Yet amassing swarms of enemies

Bathed in crimson,

                  Not just the flesh, but also, the question marks as well

          How did this cleansing come to be?

                  Was it birthed in pleasure or necessity?

         What languages speak in tongues like these?

And even the voices shake their heads…

                           Why has recollection shunned me so?

To steal the process from the skipping stone,

To dwell so far yet ogle my position from deserted throne

                  Leaving me with only prayers to own

What is the origin of such constructs?  

                   Is it in me, has this been the case all along

Or is it within parts yet to be seen?

Who is the architect of such a mask?

         Were these hands meant for callousing?

If so, then why has the subconscious purged remembrance so thin?

                           Into the crystal wash I walk

The scarlet I desire weakened; pray at all cost it’s forever lost

        

Upon submersion

How many sins shall wash away?

Where will the currents take them?

Will they regret? Will they every truly go?

Will they feel isolation, as they drift along without home?

Or will their next host embrace their cruel glow?

         From phosphorus to dust

From anxiety to life

                  We wash the crimson clean

                           Arising, from beneath the fluid screen

Hair compressed to nape

Levity is quiet still; levity may have died this day

Yet/ Reborn I feel/ lighter than I have ever been

Spin Cycle

Whites separated

From blues and reds

First the water

                  Shooting from all directions

                  As the world spun all around

Second the soap

                  A cleansing some needed gravely

                  Yet others were still pure

                  Got mixed up with the wrong group

Third a rinsing

                  Spinning in circles

                  Liquid flushing

                  Detergent from skin

Next a transfer

                  From one container to the next

                  Before it was time

Finally a heat enveloped all inside

                                                               The container was opened

                                                               Hands sort through

                                                               Into bags for transport

                                                               To the place they will go

And one is left to wonder, when would the next cycle begin

        

A Discourse and Philosophy on Perspective

At any given moment, in any given location, an event happens. In fact, events happen everyday, in every place.  There are magnitudes of depth-filled detail, going on, every second, of every day, just in the space you occupy.  All you have to do is open your eyes, and you will see some of them.

With events, comes perspective, or point of view, however you wish to call it.  Each incident, event, situation etc.. breeds unlimited perspective. We should take part in constant discussion, with others, with ourselves.  We should compare our points-of-view.  Go over them continuously.

Perspective breeds knowledge. Knowledge breeds community.  Community fosters understanding.  Understanding plants the seeds for change.

With perspective there are no right or wrong answers.  In fact answers don't exist.  We only have solutions, an infinite amount of them.

Instead of looking at things so finitely, evaluate in relation to your own perspective.  No matter how different your point of view may be, they are your perspectives.  Take ownership.  When someone looks at things similarly consider your perspective affirmed through another.

When someone's point of view differs from yours, do not play games of argument, simply understand a differential exists between your viewpoints.  But don't stop there.  Examine those perspectives, how did it arrive?  What can you take from them?  Learning never ends.  Neither should understanding.

Two cars, at full speed,

The screech is heard and they collide,

Where you may drop to your knees,

Despise and descry, " Oh, the humanity,

What a day of infamy, such is the tragedy of

The fragility, the unsuspecting & unknown nature of life,"

I however think alternatively,

I see two unlike, yet similar objects attract,

Creating something different in the wreckage,

Twisted, mangled, converged and committed

In such a case, you may claim insensitivity has a stranglehold on me.  I may claim you may be right.  I might also say, I choose to see the possibility, even when surrounded, seemingly, by the end of light.  Do not criticize others for thinking, viewing, things alternatively.  Accept, the balance your two positions take, and together take flight. 

A forest filled with flame and fear,

Smoke forcing the surrender of the air,

Quality of breathability’s forfeiture is slow,

Spreading, wildly, uncontrolled,

You may be unnerved, as the damage sears and scores,

Shriveled foliage atop, the once wooden, now charred floor,

I however, see the spread of warmth,

And the possibility for change to sprout

From a now fertile land,

When points delve deep enough, bluntly they become.  When witnessing the world through darkened glasses, shaded images are sure to come.  In a scene of calamity, be the one, if so you see, not as uncaring, but as the shoulder, as the disruptor of the darkening.

You see a murder,

I see the gun,

You see the expiration,

I watch the pool that’s begun,

                           Rippling, coveting the ground below

You see a doomsday tree,

I see another ring to be,

You see specters in the air,

I feel the breath of spring on napes so bare,

When you see pain

I see limits to test me thoroughly,

How far?    Will the outcome change?   Has another method appeared?

What to do?  Will you be their for the highs and lows?

Questions will arise.  Perspectives will change.  Some will try to force their vision.  Do not let them change you.  Listen to what they say.  Offer your vantage too.  Even if their heat boils.  Simmer still as they recoil.  Allow words to pass before actions make, a bigger differential between the two of you.  Be quick to observe.  Be intent on processing what you see.  But be quicksand, sinking slow, when it comes to labels, when it comes to condemning.

When you see a newborn, in its mother's arms,

Breathing life for the first time,

Ignorant in its innocence,

You feel her love just the same

I see the long life ahead,

All the happy moments yet to come,

All the sad strokes  and failures from,

All the experience it will share,

Loving embraces,

Disgruntled faces,

But most of all,

I see a sea of aquamarine,

And its swelling waves of possibility

You may agree, yet expound.  You may be the toll with which a shared philosophy must atone.  You may hold the words, so soft and sweet, enough cloud on tongue, enough to solace me.  I believe, but that's just me.  You have every right to disagree.  

I see a leaf,

Floating in the air,

Meandering, enjoying it's wafting course,

I smile,

When you see the leaf,

As falling down,

From a withered branch,

I never saw,

Yet as you speak,

It's like I've always known. 

Perspectives, make us each unique.

Perspectives & Points of View,

May be the only freedom we can truly own.