For Kenny James Patterson #JusticeForKJP
We are souls, we do not have souls.
Love derives from infinite capacities. We are the physical embodiment of love, and therefore we indulge ourselves in to anything that makes us feel that reflection of the peak of who we are. Whether it be what you have passion and work towards every day, the parents that eye’s you look in to at birth, the person that you wake up next to, the pet that you speak to so endearingly, or the best friend you can scream at and cry to without a worry, love is dimensional. It’s power is limitless, as it is literally the who, the what, and the why of what we are. No matter how much you may fight the love at times, it will take control of your next move, and your every intention.
It is truly beautiful,
Yet we lose it.
The higher power loves killing people, it does it every day. It’s twisted, as the reality so far from your control rips what you stand for, what you have become, right out of your chest and then stomps on it with the might of extinction. It’s as if the world never wants you to love again. Tears come to your face at the moments you once took advantage of pass with time. A certain scar is incinerated within you, yet there is not a single emotion within your face. This world chills your bones sometimes, at how smarter it is than you.
When you are least expecting, it strikes.
The scariest thing to a human mind is change, and it changes you like no other
This loss of love,
It can be death, it can be heart break,
This meteor to mind,
Makes you want to scream where the stars stay,
This world, this life,
Cherish it, even through the dark days.
Don’t let go of your love, don’t let go of your spirit.
You are a soul, you do not have a soul.
This body you possess and control is a flesh suit. This world with buildings, cars, school, jobs, is a phase. Maybe, this is where we suffer. This is where we get to experience the intrinsic beauty of flaw, where we get to feel the pressure of responsibility, where we are overcome with revenge, where we have to lose things that we love.
Find a moment, a niche of serenity for just this second, and rejoice.
You fed that person the soul’s nutrition and power. You added a dimension to that person’s mind. You gave them the life of their spirit. You felt love for them.
Who they are, is more because of you.
If they wander among this world with you, or their souls wander through the cosmic adventure that is the afterlife, their soul is as powerful as the love you dispersed to them. Your voice, your energy still rests in their veins and speaks to their mind. Everything you did was worth it, as they absorbed the spirit you fueled them with. You gave them experience, moments, images, that are beyond this lifetime, this reality.
Think more of yourself, your superpower, your love.
That love is not lost in the wind of time and does not pass with their life or their distance.
It empowers their spirit that made their life so valuable, so worth missing.
It teaches them, that every damn moment on the face of this Earth isn’t worth taking advantage of.
You loved so hard, and despite the moments that may be Armageddon to your mind, never forget what you gave that person… love.
A piece of your soul will forever roam with them, and your heart will forever matter to them. Their entity is on fire, with the spark you birthed within them.
The dynamism of art, from poetry to illustration,
to the explosions of nature, from the color in the world to the volcanoes beneath it,
rushes and empowers the blood in the veins of those who have traveled.
Forever evolving, but symbolizing freedom in it's purity,
and the utmost desires of,
Breathe, this love has built a civilization within you. Breathe, this loss is a new building, a new dimension. Your hand still holds theirs, your fire is still theirs, and your love is still there.
It can never broken, and nothing shall ever replace.
You are so powerful, and so are they.
You are a soul, you do not have a soul,
And that is why,
The love that you lost, is not far from home.
Until you meet again,
Express, let the tears come to your eyes.
They say beauty is a dead word, so fuck it,
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The soldier is not defined by the shadow that may harness him,
The soldier is experience, wisdom, the soldier knows what darkness is.
The soldier is not born, the soldier is mentality, the soldier is passion.
The soldier is bravery, the soldier is action.
The soldier is strength, able to hold the world upon his shoulders,
God throws rocks at things that shine, but for the soldier he throws boulders.
The soldier emerges from fire, and comes out with ice.
The soldier has no armor, but never shies from fight.
The soldier stands tall, the soldier has no fear,
yet even the soldier, will sit lonely and shed a tear.
Photo by Bryce Carpenter.
The world has hurt me tremendously, so I run from it and sit in silence.
My mom tries to tell me there is peace, but in my mind there is violence.
It seems as if mankind is in a movement, and I refuse to stand behind it.
And if I've ever lived a life of prosperity and serenity, please God,
can I rewind it?
I feel the universe, as if everything is a bullet that has pierced me.
My momma tells me to please smile and be cheery,
but momma the world has hurt me severely,
and that is why I yell at people to not come near me,
and why I fight so hard, and my tears deep.
I wonder, if this will ever be worth it.
If the love I feel for my brothers and sisters, will ever have a purpose.
Every day I take on the world, as if it is a beach and I am a tsunami current.
God, if there is anyone that deserves a smile, I think I have earned it.
This world holds a path, a forest I have not explored.
I search within myself, as if there is an answer in my inner core.
My emotions are the heat of an Arizona Summer, and every one's heart is an Arctic Tundra, a winter storm.
I ask God, why do I seek so much peace, if inside of me,
there is a war?
The story of the man that stands silent,
the only human, that wishes to be like the rest, careless and mindless.
whom sits in the chair of life, and dreams to recline it.
The boy of pain, who sees the shadows and scars as timeless,
who wishes he could be God, not for the lust or the power,
but so he could recreate himself,
and edit his mind, perhaps redesign it.
I ask God, for an answer as my eyes open in hopeful enlightenment,
"Relax homie. Just for tonight, maybe wine is."
There is a certain aspect in life, humanity,
I can’t describe it.
The music of voices emulates in to the air differently,
Their own vicious vulnerability, intense insecurities,
Their own hidden hamartias
The depth of their oceans is the unknown of space and time.
The way they bind together,
Is something of a mystic.
Their scars are valleys,
That have run deep in to the mantle of their soul.
Their eyes are deep, jungles of the depths of life.
Their own worlds,
Their conversations so alike,
Yet they are so distinct.
Their own step to their walk,
Their own transparent truths,
Their own egos they emulate, images they implicate.
Their own energy dispersed.
There is nobody opposite, nobody similar.
We are just soul’s roaming,
Through the magic that makes us all walk among the same Earth,
But so distant from each other in our fields of adventure,
While interwoven only through the love we build for one another.
This, is what the world would look like if it told us the truth,
About its spirit.