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The Immortal Wize
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OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY The Immortal Wize
Precisetime hides in ordinary days memories count the steps of passing time only the clock knows every tick and tock while hearts remember only the moments |
Inheritancemy grandmother had a little white poodle with a black purse in its mouth every time I touched it my hand got popped years later my grandmother was gone the poodle wasn't It was finally mine I left it alone |
Disturbance Is Mentalone sees an obstacle another sees a challenge one sees an ending another sees a beginning the event remains unchanged but perception perception changes everything disturbance feeds on comparison and the exhausting need to know a desperate attempt to control what was never ours to control grows stronger every time we argue with reality every time we say "This shouldn't be happening." every time we demand certainty from a world that never promised us a damn thing the harder we fight the more turbulent we become peace was never hidden at the end of perfect circumstances peace is always waiting inside understanding inside awareness inside the simple act of watching a thought "watch your thoughts" recognize disturbance is mental do not dismiss the pain, pain is real loss is real disappointment is real injustice is real suffering gains much of its strength from the stories the mind keeps repeating the same mind that can magnify a problem can also loosen its grip ... |
Vital StatisticsI was there but I didn't have the paperwork I lived the story before I read the first page Monday happened 20 years later That's when I finally received the evidence |
Counting Centsain't paying for no subscription I got bills I don't mean dollars I'm counting cents trying to make a meal stick I need sustenance life is breath and every breath gets spent enough to know the cost of being here ain't rent free the cash that disappears it's measured in the weight we carry daily paying just to breathe best believe lately we been barely living if you owe me money all you gone here me say is "pay me" ain't counting dollars I'm counting breaths ensuring survival in the space that's left three meals a promise that ain't always kept every morning proof that nothing's really sure life is breath and breath ain't free everybody pays for their existence eventually some with labor some with loss some with grief I'm just trying to afford another week I ain't poor I ain't rich I'm wise enough to know I ain't gotta be on welfare to get cut off by the government life is breath breath is time time gets spent like every dime I'm counting cents to pay a price that don't make... |
Here It Isit's gonna take a reader to find me I don't mean a medium more like wikipedia I try to be good but not that obedient learning something new everyday like a mathematician doing subtraction and addition there's always something to add and take away not too much in a hurry to label things if I could talk to a tree and the tree could talk back to me the tree would probably say "who told you to call me tree, I'm roots I'm soil I'm sun I'm rain I'm dew I'm seasons I'm time I'm you I am everything I'm absorbing how can I be one thing you oughtta be ashamed you're human use your brain" and I probably be mad at that tree for holding a mirror in front of me and telling me I can't see, the nerve of that tree reality is often ahead of our vocabulary the problem with words is man allow me to explain I tried to but I been lied to too the world is always bigger than the language used to describe it and yet we keep trying to define it we can catch a butterfly but the only way to keep it is to ... |
Afterlife Storytimefrom the first bomb blast affordability became a thing of the past it was the year rent stopped making sense and people asked for their pennies back they checked old couch cushions emptied jars of forgotten change searched coat pockets like archaeologists turning up remains hoping to excavate evidence a previous way of living existed of a civilization that could afford things darkness stretched so far it became ordinary when the lights finally came on nobody celebrated we asked the question what is life to the living but we were too busy surviving it to listen for the meaning |
The Jam Sessionwhere genres meet in a dim afterhours bar somewhere beyond time jazz was already there laughing softly into a glass full of midnight blues sat in the corner wearing heartbreak like an old coat classical kept staring out the window thinking about eternity again punk kicked the door open screaming THIS WHOLE WORLD IS A SCAM country talked about mothers factory jobs n highways that never loved anybody back hip hop arrived rough as city street drum beats Harlem size history electronic music flickered in n out like a machine learning how to sing folk carried stories in tired hands metal sounded angry but secretly just wanted the world to feel honest again then drill walked in a hoodie face hidden behind a shiesty with enough enough consequences poured up in a styrofoam cup to get a life sentence the whole room shifted to stopped to listen something sounded familiar but different young n exhausted like sirens outside project windows like candles on street corners like surviving too... |
Late Night Hallucinationscreepy people everywhere one standing on the stairs one laughing in underwear one shoe not a pair streetlights coughing silver smoke rain dripping through the air everybody moving strange everybody stop and stare my mind a train ride steel screaming through the dark sparks flying past my eyes black tunnels in my heart if no one’s around who would hear the sound moaning in abandoned stations creepy people underground I see shadows drinking moonlight out of styrofoam out the corner of my eye dead radio still on poisoned atmosphere creepy people everywhere faces floating without names I keep walking through the city like a moth inside the flames up early still half awake twist n turn in my brain every stranger look familiar every summer smells like rain my mind a train ride no conductor inside of the freight words written on the side graffiti on my fate mind dipped in paint dripping down the think colors running sideways through the gutters of my brain all this stuff inside my he... |
The Pastorthe pastor not my pastor but probably your pastor wants you to give them money the pastor who has you believing he or she has a direct line to the supreme being the most high the one called God the pastor has you believing that your creator is using you to give them monies then wouldn't you have a direct line too jafaf |