Monthly Archives: July 2012

From the Soul

I Manifest By: Nathen Jalani Taylor

As I extend my hands toward the heavens
I call upon the core that guides our spirits
Helping us ignore the shadows of the fallen legacy
Paving the way for a new generation of Gods of men
Pushing away the prophecies of a stolen culture
Retooling the mind of a powerful presence
Understanding the past, transforming the present
Rewriting a known future for lost souls
Supplying the recreated mind with passion of life
Striking the humanity’s inter energy
Defibrillating the cycle of worthiness
Crying to the super natural for a teacher
A presence that will open hearts of the misplaced
And engulf all the hatred from ignorance

Lengthening a hand to the emptiness of an singular
Crafting ideas of inseparability within this colony of organism
Migrating across the universe of reality
Manifesting a new conclusion of interactions
Educating the mentality as an entirety
Looking into each other for that reassurance of existence
Given our essence away freely
Helping all understand the urgency
That we can change the appearance of us
Discovering a fresh likeness of optimism
Loving each blemish only to correct the identity
Respecting the lurking doubt of our awareness
Pushing across lines for perfection
Molding a new mortality of rejoice

© 2012

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Filed under Guidance, Honesty, Love, Passion, Poetry, Powerful, Uplifting

Labyrinth of the Perception, Blogisode 2

The earth is speaking to the scared voice with vigor and haste. Concealed by the darkness of shadows and deception, encapsulated the fear on the face of the scared voice. “What in the world have I done to receive this nightmare of hell?” More laugher rang out from the bile’s of the besieged ground, forcing tears to jump off the face of the scared voice, as if they were locust in a summer field. Many whispers danced about the memories of the scared voice’s awareness. From the darkness, words drift through the air piercing her drums.

“They die, we die, and you die
The sins will not be unpunished
Spirits will be penetrated”

“Do you hear me?
Listening to sonnets of chance
Ticktock, ticktock this is your final stance”

As the hordes of tainted thoughts fog around the atmosphere, the scent of absolute anxiety is close. The scared voice must learn to hold in the agony of the moment. The world she has been implanted is unforgiving and dreadful, not keeping a leveled head causes a certainty of demise. The dusty air filled with the aroma of a swamp like murky perfume. The vision in front is as if a black hole exists continuously throughout the craved surface generating endless dimness of dejection. The scared voice begins to walk, trying to understand the full situation, as her walkers stride across the waterless ground feeling as if someone is following her. The scared voice took a quick glance around confirmed it was a figment, a strong fabrication that felt like it was calling out for acceptance. The scared voice continued to travel along the path only to reach a dead-end with an engraved wall.

“One who seeks the departure!
Has been extremely misinformed
The journey continues forward
Stop leading your bases off course
I think you have lost your way”

“Never Eat Soggy Waffles
Inscribed as my directions
A positive exit strategy
In that order creates a circle
Now turn your silly imperfections!”

Fearing that she is at a lost, the scared voice rotated to retrace the pavement for which she has traveled. Cautiously she dances about the ground with rapidity hoping to correct the mistake of her pass wandering. The disorientation of her understanding is forcing her to misjudge the repetition of the internal map forged in her mind. The anxiety of misguidance is weighing heavily on her concentration distorting the possibilities of liberation from the malevolence that lurks throughout this hold. It is difficult for her to call on personal strength to lead her to a promising outcome, with everything countering to her ever thought. The state of hopelessness is building stronger as the time withers, tightening the grasp of her distress unseen by another soul. The immoral is nestled with a graze upon the essence of her wandering humanity extinguishing every ounce of belief that stands pure inside her. Breaking down the existence of truth that paralyzes the wishes of escape, killing the diminished ambition left within her. Her voice rang out!

“Willful you may seem
Distress you may want me to gleam
I am no puppet you malicious thing
Fore I will overcome your wicked scheme!”

© 2012

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Filed under Blogisode, Darkness, Evil, Fantasy, Loneliness, Pain