False Awakenings.. (A poem by Jack)

In all my lives of living, I’ve never witnessed so many souls in desperation for their grave, macabre..

Far from grace.. They repel repentance.. In search of the evils… Constant emotional trauma relived in every waking experience..unbearable truths they feel, with an inability to cope.. 

Face the trauma and it loses its power..

But they’d rather be comatose, resting in stagnate unperceived misery.. A sensual misery that enjoys itself, while presenting itself as relief–self-medication …

So they are content with slumber and awaken into a stuper…

They are addicted to the slump.. 

Yes, at a time, long ago, they could be called victim..

But years.. Generations…and Times have passed and you still claim victim.. Meaning no self-accountability… Meaning antagonistic creatures are birthed from antagonistic wounds.. Creatures that lash out… And protect what’s left of them at all cost..

Creatures they fall in love wit.. Only satiated by indulgences… Licentious … And wanton activities… A self centered creature that feeds and feeds until nothin remains of them but death…

That to which they are addicted …

That to which they live for…

That to which… They will die from… Only to repeat the cycle all over again.. Day in day out… Life in, life out..

Quantum Jack ( a poem by Jack)

I’m a time traveler unstuck in a time loop.. From place to place … Plane to planeI saw what will be before I ever saw what it was, my preference is to see the future before studying the past..

But this isn’t about me.. As I stated..I’m unstuck..

It’s the others..They seem to be stuck in their misery.. an infant loop.. as cycliyle as the arc of their tears..

A time loop..repetitive lust and detrimental trautmitization..

Stuck in animosity, day in day out, lifetime after lifetime…living for it..

No forgiveness, so a part of you stays where it’s stuck.. and it’s all or nothin..so if you can’t go..all will remain..

But stagnation it content..and idle souls are the tranportation of parasites.. things that can’t live without the energy force of the unliving..the dying never truly becoming the dead..but stuck

Stuck in a purgatory..because heaven and hell is what you make it..but this time loop will remian objective..

But I’m just a traveler if time…unstuck in an infinite loop..subjectively observing…

 

The meek will inherit (a poem by Jack)

They call it survival of the fittest..But their whole precept is skewed..

From afar it’s all a numbers game.. People aren’t people when you add the numbers up.. They evolve into statistics..

It’s nothing personal.. They just don’t see humanity.. At least not how you and I perceive..

I see wisdom… in that snow white beard and those sun worn fingers..

I see an alpha in those big broad shoulders..

Slumped brow..Dingy jeans…dirt encrusted finger nails..As he drags along the concrete… 

Unfortunately the sign “hungry need food, anything will help,” doesn’t prove so alpha..

How can a god be reduced to a mere beggar…

Such is a system: designed for “them” to reach the top and justify lookin down on the others..

A system we all contribute to..

A system that can’t collapse without the power of disbelief..

Suspend belief and watch it crumble and witness the earth return to its children…

Shakey Bones (a poem by Jack)

She gets off on being the object of desire..

So many slain hearts and shaky bones remain stuffed in various closets…

Who am I to think I’d be any different?
Son of God or son of man.. I’m but another victim of her wicked iniquities..which are mere habits that feed the neon demon…
To think love would save me.. To think love would set me free.. love did nothing but reveal truths..

Truth is she’s never loved anyone but herself.. She adores the attention.. She lives for adoration.. She’s addicted to the loyalty..

The neon demon exuberates from her havoc… Her listful lips seal the demise of her victims…

And when your well runs dry… She’ll drink the trickle of another…

Which leaves me.. Scared.. Lonely.. Thirsty.. Even though my well runs deep..

And as deep as my well runs how can I blame her for quenching the demons thirst..

When My heart knows no mercy, and has drunk from the well of so many without so much as to replenishing a drop.. so I understand her ways… 

Hypocrite…

How can I ask of another…to love unconditionally…when my love is just as shallow…

dark matter (a poem by Jack)

At night we see truths..This night I saw the truth..

A rather dark, many-faced soliloquy

Quiet rhtheroic we writing the fabric of my identity..   

An adhesive…

A soul, my soul, that frowned with the face of many others..

I recognized the soul as mine but the faces… So foreign..

Yet, if I looked in a mirror I would identify these faces as mine.. Quite a paradox, you see…

Did they annex the soul or were they engulfed by the soul.. Indistinguishable they have become… successful symbiont 

Do you know what rest within you while you slumber?

They say, “stay woke,” but that’s when what rest within operates most effectively..

Dark matter… Vulnerable soul.. Cold and sticky place..

Cold sweats… Warm hearts… Narrow mind..

Quite a sub culture to breed the unimaginable…

I shouted it out of me and saw it struggle as it was being pulled away, but fear protected it.. I commanded with the authority thereof that it leave…It screamed as its face was being pulled from my soul but doubt showed pity and put an end to that…

Until I am truly free, the struggle I must manage and live on despite the many faces within…

low life (a poem by Jack)

He’s a soul who can’t live free..Everything he despises draws to him like a moth to an unextinguishable flame ..

Or perhaps it’s his vision that’s narrow–always seeing the worst in everything..

Either way he’s unfulfilled because he can’t see past his torment.. Self-sabotaging because his eyes are full of deceit..

Can not he see that His blessings are just as evident? Yet he prefers the spectrum of tunnel vision..

A bull in a blind rage, his thoughts spew…focusing on red and missing all the other colors life has to offer…

It’s cold and damp–the dwelling place of self-deprecation 

Run child until you find happiness.. Go and seek.. All for nil … A pessimistic-self-serving-nihilistic shell of a man he is..

‘Twas why he views the world as such…

If only he can see in himself that beauty which the world has been waiting for…

If he can kill his darkness perhaps his beauty will be set free…

Wild Weeds (a poem by Jack)

They call us weeds and treat us as such..But really.. We’re the forgotten seeds who have always been here..

Embrace me.. Embrace us.. See us for what we are, not who we’ve grown to be…

From coast to coast we remain authocothnous…

From every plot of earth we have risen…

Are we not what you were expecting.. Is this why you find no fault in mowing us down and picking at our faults..

You prefer a lily or perhaps a rose?

Is this why you douse us in poison.. Because you know we’re built to take it…

Our flesh baked by the sun… Our petals sun soaked…

I feel its rays now…

Do you even hear our melodies as our leaves rustle? Of course you do, that why you loathe our bass…

You may bring anyone to our land and we will always bleed through.. No matter how damaged the earth..No matter how scorched the soil… Wild seeds will sow…

It is quite amazing how we flourish under the most limited of resources… It’s like we ask of nothing and still stretch towards the sun.. Basking in it’s radiance..

Do you want to worship the sun like us? Is that it?

But child…we don’t worship the sun… We were simply designed to thrive because of it…

Strange flowers… Wild weeds… Dead stems.. And broken seeds…

Political angst and social unrest…

Yet nothin is new under the sun…

Why know (a poem by Jack)

We are constantly adapting… 

Both you and I… 

We experience… Interpret… And prepare for the next…

You are what you feed your soul…You become what you ingest… 

How can a soul adapt to its environment but through the mind… And the thoughts thereof…

Yet Thoughts are evidence of ignorance…

Which becomes the source of our paradox…

 Thought is only necessary for those that do not know…

Omniscience need not ponder about anything….From omniscience all is derived…

Ignorance makes slaves of us all.. Ignorance keeps us shackled to our body… To our mind.. Adapting to this is your only hope…and your sincerest form of oppression…

But how is a slave to obtain freedom?

City boy blues… (A poem by Jack)

I grow board with the world… I can’t figure out who they pray to anymore..I search for temples but see financial institutions more ubiquitous and grandiose than all their holy places..

Are we not judged by the fruit we bear…

At this very moment.. I’m watching make believe people.. Live a make believe life.. On an electrical box.. While I sit inside of a hollow box..

My shackles and chains are all but in the mind…

The only difference between my cell and the inmates is I voluntarily remain confined…

I’m not sure what’s worth much beyond the superficial.. I thirst for knowledge but find no means of attaining such… Just regurgitated arguments.. Passed down through time..recycled philosophies… 

Rtheroric without action…

They say we’re alive but I’m either numb to living or I’m two times dead… Because other than happiness I see no point.. Happiness is but complacency in the normality of stagnation..thus happiness becomes equally mute…

The blind aren’t leading the blind… The dead are leading the living.. And I’m dying right along with them.. All they know is death so they celebrate it in every facet of life…every nuance echoes non-living.. So precious is life that the sane have learned to lock it in… If just not to feel crazy…

Sometimes I can’t even see myself… All I see is the result of nothingness.. A compilation of misguided truths living in a dead world… Buried within the shell of a man.. 

So yeah… I tend to grow board with the world…

No respect for love (a poem by Jack)

I am not perfect, because your perception of perfection is warped…

But am I what you perceive?

I am perfect because I am that I am..

I strive for more.. Yet not to be more… But to illuminate what remains hidden…

Am I what I tend to believe?

She said, I have never known love as she has..

Therefore I wouldn’t understand..

But she hasn’t dwelled on death as I have.. So she can’t see what I see…

When you have endured the life’s I have, pride and principal far exceed love… Love is too fleeting and fickle but respect carries over from life time to life time…

Ever look in a man’s eye… And disdain his every breath, but you’ve never met the man before in your life?

Respect endures… Love fleets…

So when she replies I wouldn’t understand because I haven’t known love, it isn’t that I haven’t known love… It’s actually that I have known love and know exactly of its traits…