sábado, 17 de diciembre de 2011

The Source


My poetry airs,

what's inside of my heart.
The interlect's there,
I allow it to pass.

It cannot be dictated,
it cannot be forced.
Don't underestimate,
the power of source.

In preparation,
I tune into my crown,
enter meditation,
then scribble it down.

I turn on the tap,
and just see what I find.
It bridges the gap,
between heart and mind.

I write more than I read,
so I can be sure,
that my poetic seeds,
are wholesome and pure.

My head fills with helium,
I go into a trance.
I'm the poetic medium,
who's super advanced.

I say what is vital,
it's all about need.
It's my personal bible,
that is funny to read.

It'sthe ultimate comic,
that tells us who we are.
The message is cosmic,
it comes from the stars.

The make my heart tickle,
they flow like a juice.
The are all paradoxical,
so they must contain truth.

I become the observer,
the unverse guides.
They help me see further,
than I can with my eyes.

They come unexpected,
they're filled with suprises.
I simply project it,
in all shapes and sizes.

The question is when,
rather than if.
I just pick up apen,
then disipher my gift.

It's always been there,
from a very young age,
waiting to be shared,
now that it's on a page.

Before it's on paper,
it's already written.
The purpose is to wake up,
anyone who will listen.

Each onecomes together,
like birds in the sky.
I just pick up a feather,
but I don't question why.

I say what's important,
I eliminate doubt,
then whatever is dormant,
will find it's way out.

I feel the electric,
I feel the vibration,
then I will let it,
come into creation.

My chakra's swing open,
and fill me with love.
I become re-awoken,
then thewords simply flood.

Sometimes I write things,
then when I look back,
I taste my own 'icing',
then find the right track.

I become a filter,
I take on an angle.
It's what I was built for,
to become a channel.

When I am writing,
I loose track of time,
I invite the light in,
then watch out for the rhyme.

I put aside ego,
look down on the Earth,
then neither he or sheb knows,
which sentence will birth.

There is no contest,
I'm trying to win.
I'm just watching my concience
perform it's own thing.

I convert the feeling,
into words and phrase.
The process is healing,
my spirit is raised.

I will not write it,
if it's not what I mean.
My message is psychic,
it's carefully screened.

I get pleasure from watching,
the way it is formed.
Something come's from nothing,
like a new soul being born

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario