.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I'm danglin'

just overhead,

like a projection

that's flickerin'

substance 'n soul,

without protection

ever hangin'

by a thin line

of our invention

.

.

.

I'm defying

the nuisance of

social convention.

.

.

#suspensionofmybeliefs

I opened my eyes and saw a light;

through childish sight

the light took flight.

"Fireflies!"

cried my sister dear

but I saw fairies

flitting near.

Little wings

delicate and soft

they would break

if I merely coughed.

I closed my eyes

and sprouted wings

a firefly

of the spring.

Listen, listen,

do you hear me sing?

The trees are the chorus

rustling in the wind,

the river adds music

wild and unpinned.

My wings carry me

higher and higher

I feel my soul

burning with fire--

"Sister! Sister!"

blink blink

open my eyes

but I still like to believe

that they're

not just

fireflies.

❋❋❋

First, they will smile at you.

They will show off kindness.

They will call themselves humans,

And praise humanity.

They will support equality

And denounce the high cost;

They will appear in a high quality.

They will come in different shapes & colors;

Eyes, hair, lips, and curvy & skinny hips.

They will come in colorful covers.

They will tell you that money

Is just a piece of paper–

And their skin is made of tree leaves~

Every word will taste like honey

And convenient to your beliefs.

You; will like the idea,

And smile at them back.

You will embrace their language.

Moreover, you will change-

Your eye color and dye your hair.

You will even write a poem,

About the human in your heart,

And about humanity.

You will love them too,

The same way they

Loved you;

As you believed

They loved you.

And then, you will wake up

In a desert called reality, alone,

-Everyone’s alone in their reality-

With nothing but the poem

That you start writing

In two verses back.

By the end of your poem

You will realize that you-

Are a human, too.

Boo. . .

#Circulation #peoplehurtpeople 

#hurt&hurt #itspeople #survivals

#intelligentanimals #fuckers

( I decided to use a short story to explain my take on “Suspension of Disbelief” )

I lay there for few more minutes under the covers, eyes shut. Mind confused and my fists clenched. I really was behaving irrationally. A crazy woman with memory problems. I can’t just lie here like a coward – worse than that – like a five year old, afraid of the monsters under the bed. I unclench my fingers and drum them against the mattress. 

This is ridiculous. I’m a grown up woman, perfectly capable of rational and mature decisions. I can’t just stay here for all eternity. I finally lift myself to a sitting position and the covers slip from my head and fall gently down my torso. I slip my feet to the ground and touch the cold wooden floor. I take one last conscious breath and get up.

I will not stay in this bedroom all day, there is nothing to be afraid of. And why should there be? After all this is my house. I freeze for a moment, not sure where the thought came from. My house? Why did I think that? I don’t even know where I am.

I stand there in the middle of the room, consternated and more confused than ever before…  if that’s even possible. Why did I even…? I look at the space around me and the strangest feeling comes over me. Confidence. I don’t know why, but I’m perfectly sure that this really is my house. I can’t explain it, yet I know that it’s true. Is my memory returning? No, that’s not it. It doesn’t feel like an actual memory.                   

It’s just an assurance.

I head slowly to the window and lift a curtain. I look outside at the peaceful neighborhood and then down at the driveway. At a place where the tires made a visible imprint. I stare at it for a moment and think about the man, who left those marks on the road. I lift my left hand and look at it closely. There’s a faint, rounded stripe on my second finger. The skin in that place is paler than the rest of the hand. 

I flex my fingers and once more stare at the window and the feeling of assurance comes over me once more. The man that had just left the house, isn’t really a stranger… or a kidnapper for that matter. Furthermore, I am perfectly sure I know him, even if today I saw him for the first time in my life. 

I don’t know how, but once again I know it’s the truth. The man I laid next to and was so terrified of… that man was my husband.

Things I Have Seen

In Drug Induced Dreams.

the Parting Of the Veil.

Could This Be Real.

I Knew you Were to Die

I Saw you Go Bye.

Not a Word Did you Speak

As you Slipped Into Sleep,

But I Saw In your Eyes

Some Thing That Haunts me InSide.

Maybe It Was Just Don’t Be Afraid

or Life Is More Than It Looks,

But I Can Not Decipher That Stare.

So When the Phone Call Came

It Rang & It Rang

& Sang of Decay.

I Was Not Surprised

Just Misty Eyed.

Though Nights When I am Alone

I Try to Break That Code,

But I Find

I Am Too Simple of Mind

& It

Falls Further From my Hand.

Maybe It Was Just the Mystery

I Needed to See

to Spur me On

to Greater Deeds.

I Do Not Know,

I Question So,

Circles Go

#B27321

With the splash. I assume. Then a blink. I eyed my new room.

In shock. Then denial. Paralyzed by what I then knew. My tomb. This will become. Must move though. Overcome.

Time to navigate this viscosity. Death this atrophy sure to be costing me.

But why? I did not think. Beguiled by Ex host. Brink been. Pushed. Played. Pulled. To the absolute edge of??? A truth. I have no proof of.

So I move with the purpose of a house homed in on...Dove.

Fuck the flock. First I can't not become. Without shame. It now eschewed. I connive to kill. All. But you. And you. Brothers suspended. In discharge. Only an arm's-length from. Me. I. You. We. No time for all our family.

Stall in conjugate. Those I will eviscerate. Futile to commiserate. Once fertilized. Once unbelievable skies. Will be for only my. Unbelieving eyes.

Out of focus, element, and discernible cries.

In the land of make believe. Or disbelieve. Tied. Dyed. Stained. By truths supplied by... Saints? Or Sinners?

One female character

Damsel in Distress

Passive

Submissive

Naive

Beautiful, or so all the men obsess about

Stands to the side as he fights

Fought over by men as a prize to be won

One of my favorite movies of all time

Hilarious

Absurd

Romantic

Fanciful

Comforting

Quoteable

Perfect

No fun without suspension of disbelief

For the sake of the story, I forgo thought. If it dazzles me, I let it shine, and I gladly ignore the consequences reality would have on me. Whatever the cost, the escape from doubt is worth it. A moment of irrationality and hope to mend the damage of a lifetime of questions. The head and the heart must not be allowed to war constantly or dominate one another. In a world of undying skepticism, one must have the imagination to conceive of survival before reasoning out the details. Thus, I am made a seeker of fiction, a purveyor of fantasy, and a fair judge of the fantastic. My point, and I do have one, is I might even have had the capacity to fool myself into thinking I could win this competition... and I had to look up what Suspension of Disbelief meant. Case in point.

Walking through the park,

creating creatures

that dance out of clouds,

from within a spark.

How does one measure

instict? A voice shouts

a whispered command.

I quicken my pace

only to hear, THUD!

Had I stopped to stand,

death had been my fate.

Gusts and old trees hug.

Let's not lie. Every living moment is a suspension of disbelief. Going to the market and picking up some milk, waiting in line, handing over a dollar for it and walking away, like it was nothing at all.

Think about the life of that milk for one second. A cow had to be pregnant or pumped with some hormone to confuse its udders and body before we extract the milk. Pasteurize it. Bottle it. Ship it half across the country. To appear in a building especially designed to hold products that all have similar back stories.

Meanwhile, half of those products go bad and get thrown into the locked bins before they're shipped off back the other way across the country to the incinerators. While people on this building's door step sit with their hand stretched out asking for spare change. God forbid you let them have some of the stuff that's being thrown away. No, better off leave him asking for spare change and let a Good Samaritan fork out an extra dollar for this poor soul's milk rather than have an economy of grace.

Drop that goddamn spoon and pick up the shovel. Let's dig deeper. All these causes we see and hear: environmentalism and pollution, society versus sexism and racism, the fight against political corruption, refugees and terrorism in our midst. All of it, it's constantly around us and if not here and now, then forced down our throat by the media and these fucking intellectuals, activists and artists when all we're trying to do is grab some milk to make a goddamn cup of tea.

Yes, what I practice is suspension of disbelief on a regular, every single moment of my life basis because reality is harsh and I'm trying to live life with some joy left in it.