The world is a suitable, beautiful, muse to her
She wakes up with smeared make up
And types whatever’s true to her
Whether its painful and the rain falls
Whether its sun rays and her love plays
She writes for a better tomorrow
Today the page is the only quarrel
What could have or should have been
As it is written; life is brand new again
Let the writing be a healing from this desolate plane
Growing up and showing us that it’s alive again
“There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the present moment. A man’s whole life is a succession of moment after moment. There will be nothing else to do, and nothing else to pursue. Live being true to the single purpose of the moment.”
Hagakure- Book of Samurai
Where is my meaning?
Compassionate surpassing all other reasoning.
Indulge in emptiness of self and fuel the flames of others.
Light their torch; be a source of blessings and wonder.
I was so lost, could’nt tell truth between fiction
Please grant me forgiveness
My imagination got the best of me
From my psychedelic recipes, weed smoke and drinking sprees
Ecstasy and any pill I could heed
Please forgive me for the lies I seed
But its okay if I sewed my own fate
If that’s the case I can love you from far way
Maybe one day you can hear me
Sending so many apologies.
Awakened by life surrounding me; No longer alone
Last month I rescued 2 kittens and they are my world
They like the mornings; hyper and stampeding like horses
On the soft carpet floor.
Get up, get up, get up and get it.
Gotta survive, Exercise.
Got nuff foods, ital moods.
Good morning rub my eyes. Again I rise.
I woke up next to two beautiful girls.
Then I walk the block.
Praise the most high; beautiful skies.
Om Numah Shivaya.
Let my words saturate the net
The wet web never forgets
I build this manifesto
I build this legacy
Page by page
My page is an entity
Her guests on wordpress suppress the wild emotion
When I’m done on here It’ll be as deep as the ocean
Poetic prophesize wild eyes asasination
Somehow slippin by slap on wrist given probation
Free mind at last alas 3 years sobriety is like a vengeance
Powerful poetry resembles a grand entrance
The devil ran his fingers down my spine…
Whispering “Don’t you want to play like we used to baby”?
He sits beside me and pours me a glass of champagne
Sparkling in the candle light…
The drink seems to whisper as well,
And like a dream I lose focus.
Staring at this omen to my past.
“Can’t we return”? Says the Devil.
His fingers running down my spine…
And I remember…
As the champagne dances before me
Seduction has always been his art
Falling in love with the Devil
While he slowly tears my life apart.
Good morning.
I’m a little sleepy this morning. Not sure what to write. Onto coffee number 2 lol… That’s funny. I’m just waiting for my girl to wake up. I feel like good days are coming my way even though it seems like the world is falling apart.
Its been so cold lately, especially in the mornings. Ive got my space heater running in the bedroom so that I can hibernate in there soon.
On another note. Now that I am sober…. Not homeless or facing homelessness… Why do my journals not feel so important. Is it simply because I am safe? I don’t know. Hmmm…
-Nina
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