The past

As the years go by, the meaning of humans slipping and dying. A conflict with the actual truth. Like embers. The value of everyone, of us, is so sure that no foundation can shake the meaning of humanity. We are human beings. Valiant, beautiful and endless in our potential. Our destiny is one step to hear right now.

Yet the pain I feel overshadows that meaning, a dented symbol shadowing the old. Snapping right over. I need a spoon to scrape it out. Aluminum sealed upon titanium steel. Foolish pride. Old but new philosophy. Freakin humans beating their own drums. Loud, overbearing and plain sneer. Rubbing not alcohol, nor medicine, but their own venom coursing out. Missing the good ideal and ache through the core. From apple core to red liquid. The goop saps the tree out. You mean nothing. I mean nothing. No one means anything. See? Their words burn because its a beating sick. Empty calories never meant to hold concrete meaning, the meaning lost with 'rational' philosophy, but realistic profound expressions, and their anger will burn right through your resistance. The order that is no order. Inversion right side up. If you just place a twisted miror. Their words upon flicker ash. It is to fill, to pacify, and to make a few brownie sugar points. 

Little wiggle dance to make the sting sing with you. There there. All better. I'm right, you know. Everyone can just fall in place. Or face the wrath of nose bleeds and fingers crossed. Hitchhike somewhere else please.

No accountability is not the way. No humble is no road. Fire cannot be warm with anger. It cannot justify the licking flames. Tongue that burps out flattering truths. As all shiny things steps through their very bounds. Stretch limits. Night skies covered in extra pollution. Lights aching to be seen. Let's dance everyone. No not like that. Like this.

Hmmm. Speak freely. Free expression as long as you don't smile too long. Speak freely as long as you just sit there, and please don't stare at your plate. If you do so, go sit with them. Freaks who like to stare at plates.

Humans are important. Love is justified. Compassion and forgivness is humanity's greatest story.

Yet I am hurting. How can I forgive those that pulled me down. Those that lied to me and pacified my own resistance. Watching the world go down its decreed course, and feeling like an ant that is just returning to the nest. Barely audible. Antennas out. I am not sniffing for a treat. I am not licking the scent. I hear, feel and see with my simple sense. The cascading chorus singing triumphant. Just a little longer. You will pull up and through to the right. Just right next to the other left.

Little ant. You try so hard to be the mighty bug. Blind as a bat, no wings and one among many others. But those dark eyes are indeed dark. In my head I see flashing scents. Speaking of 3d worlds with multiple meanings all locked together. So on I move. Crawling up the wood, and ignoring the twitching mess around. Someone just sprayed the pestilence, and the reek attracting those profane seeking insects. They are on the ground. Some just hit the wall. Banged up and walking right into the smack. Should I try to help? Am I arrogant as well? Do I just repeat what they did to me? Pain. So much spread. From one fool to another budding fool. What kind of mess do we have?

Am I the mess or do I mess?

To defeat my inner disdain, I will be different. Anger, pride, prejudice and resentment are concoctions that just fly like stink bombs. Everyone gets a whiff. Coughing.

Then bombs fly everywhere. Someone is to blame. So bombs away.

One sad bending truth. If we cannot rise above the anger, we mirror and spin off the very deed that was done to us. We become a variation of one symbol. Look in the mirror. Who is leading this fight? Your buddy anger? Two bulls locking their horns. Claiming civility and sophistication. The anger needs to give way to faith. Bitterness is a accumulating spec. A mote that gathers all the dust from the house and flings at the fresh air. Love those bridges that bring together. For peace to settle dancing giants. Stop stomping. Stop yelling. I am right here. Not going anywhere. You and I will work the difference out. Whose to say horns cannot be there to lead. A charge into the plains of meekness and temperance. Wisdom calming the bristling grass. Patience gives way to reward. Life building up. A gate to divert the river. Cleanse the past from trembling veins that heave and buck inwards. Heart surge it out. Heart rising tide to flush and soap the coursing hatred. My true identity to be clean. Ethos reacting to cousin Pathos. Until all aspects is turned upon one simple axis. Transformation upon two worlds. Both linear and non-linear volumes. I am becoming better than my receiving hand. Translation and rotation. Move and scale up. One day tied to its seem. Seemingly forgiveness is the way.

Until seventy times seven.

Forgiving is one very good nature that I fault and lack. I seek to obtain my own seven times, but am struggling. Love is an atmosphere conducive to personal gold. Love follows truth. You need both. Turned into one crackling fire. Warm. Inviting the s'mores, and chocolate will smear the graham and mallow.