Freegrandmaa

Everyday I look into pairs of eyes, and onto their noses and then to their mouths until my eyes have completely dissected and devoured the concept of them being.

Just like me, here you are. Oh what beautiful wonders of the world taking place.

With every inhale.

Every Exhale.

I believe that once again, yes the world is beautiful, as the inhibitors are. The experience of being human is so intricate in itself and within us all I am the only one. You are the only one. He is the only one.

Here we all are trying to figure out “how to life” at the same time, on this infinite spectrum of existence.. I spend my days in admiration as I see some evolving into beings who no longer need to be governed and think for themselves. People who are choosing now to live their lives in accordance with their own perceptions of happiness..The meaning of life is beginning to vary. The way life is lived is shifting..With the shift in global consciousness the accepting of Individuality is rising. Humans are hearing their divine callings, listening to the yearning of their souls and pursuing abundance, and minding their business if “it don’t flow”.

I find solace in knowing our lives aren’t meant to mimic, but to be reflected upon others in your uniquely divine way. It helps me look to people in admiration instead of looking at them with bitterness.

I’m not the kind of sista you’d wish to be

I’ll taint you like a blood stain.

on that.

white blouse.

That you like to wear only on Sundays

and the church won’t permit me to exist so I bleed

Forever flowing

I ran a river so deep and I pray that this black hole will cleanse me

I’m filthy sticky plastered

a bastard

a bit chaotic but I don’t show at least

at peace it seems but.

I’m not the kind of sista you’d wish to be

I appreciate these moments. laying on a palette in my van in a auto shop parking lot, sipping on wine, smokin ganja, writing poetry. it’s simple. it’s nice. it’s me. in my natural habitat i stay. nude. natural. honest. Alone. I feel like some people struggle to find those sincere moments. fearful of being their unfiltered self. Unfiltered. Belly bloated. scabs exposed. Summer sweaty body. What are we afraid of? Your own judgement. inflicted insecurities? Your ego? out of all of the nonsense deemed socially acceptable; or for lack of a better word “normal”, why is rawness not? fully concealed intelligence? I often find freedom in these times. Free to write. Free to have a conversation with myself aloud about whatever i please. No ones listening, and if they are i hope to be an inspiration of the comfortability with ourselves that we should all house within. i hold no shame. no embarrassment in. being me. its me. and i do what i fancy, when i fancy when im alone i can do anything. sing songs as if i wrote them myself, play with my rolls, my breast. sip all the wine my heart desires. laugh at my memories. revisit my lovers. Daydream about the infinite. This rawness grounds me, and brings me peace and comfort when the external is draining. My body and mind are solely mine. for my amusement, for my pleasure. Society tells me to conform and be self conscious about my unique thoughts and ways of being. Well my thoughts give me permission to be naked, tipsy, jammin, writing in my van at 2 am so imma follow that instead. Fuck. Just be.

why do the crowds jump hurdles

broken legged and limping

double jointed shoulder blades

forever overlapping
our faces

and me

the truth would let us be

in longevity

in a world of choice

a country of manipulated freedom senses

we choose the life of others

of our past reincarnations

we replicate tainted decisions

instead of creating our own

inventing new lives and dimensions onto fresh births

centuries we settle to shadow

 to the depths of ungrown land 

identical land reveals

 to mimic

in a world of options

we willingly decline our freedom to create

burning the right to generate with the flag

a place of coexistence and peace

On some nights my home shakes with the wind. Threatening to topple over and twirl with the blizzard. It takes punches for me and I am thankful. Because some homes resemble holey blankets and concrete sidewalks.

Some nights my toes numb as I suffocate myself beneath the layers, underground some nights I wish. For survival and if the universe is feeling giving, a sense of comfort. Some nights I find my vessel shaking as my base does, some nights, leaving my vessel with cramped joints on vibrate. Honey I’m can’t afford to be cold, I’m surviving. I force myself to stay still, but only for a moment because my body knows that this isn’t about comfortability, it’s about survival.

Survival doesn’t care if some nights my thoughts poses a threat to my mind. Survival doesn’t care if you cry yourself to sleep, wishing to drown away, wondering if your tear ducts would hold you. He doesn’t care if people stare. He really doesn’t give a fuck. He isn’t bothered with addiction, withdrawal, or a broken heart. To see the sun once more, to take one more breathe is his only concern. And for that I am in love with him, I have to be, in order to see another day, to continue to be. Some nights I wish to break up with him and I would pray to grow the courage, to say fuck surviving. I’m tired of walking against the wind. Earthquakes scare me and I don’t want to be alone. This small space is strangling me and reminds me of my misfortune and I no longer need what I needed. NO longer want what I wanted but to cease. Yet comes witching hour, my eyes closed, lungs holding small long breathes. Then everything is gone. And life doesn’t exist here. I can climb through many dimensions and find paradise and smile.

Some nights my home shakes beneath me to the rhythm of my body. Am I must remind myself I’m need to survive. I’m need to live.

why is it a shame

vulnerability, sensuality

it bestows

a rare euphoria in the proud moon light

why is it a shame

i ask my vessel not good enough to seek comfort within

to display aloud

like a new love

to the gods and the stars as appreciation

for through them i was pieced together

thought of

created

pieced together

in their hands

hold no shame, embrace the perfected craft that is you

dance freely in the day

but also

in the moonlight

when the stars and the planets turn and peek at the unique masterpiece in which you are

why do you allow it to matter

theses boxes we put each other in

how hard to see we are the same

we need air, nutrients, water, love

we were blessed with this world

my mother as well as yours

and so she cares for me

she provides me with a love like no other

and all she asks in return is to love our brother our sister

she grows the nutrients we need and the water rains down

air from the greens

and the love

we are to find in one another

just trust me its easy

and you’ll receive it right back

understand, feel empathy

feel your heart beat and your blood flow, and your skin gets all warm as it should be

why do we allow it to matter

theses boxes we put each other in

we misunderstand, we judge

forgetting its all a cycle and they no not what they do

its all learned behavior

and certain circumstances

that makes us all uniquely so

we all start a child absorbing it all

were taught get older and watch as people fall

pain, anger, judgement, is simply a mask of fear

and hurt people hurt people

in this cold world we’ve created are you surprised that we’re all fearful

of preparing to die, stressing to relieve ourselves of man made debt, comparing and being the best

why do we allow it to be this way

why is this how we choose to live

i ask questions because this life is draining

and i see the same on every face passing by

societies ways are breaking my heart

these boxes we put each other in

stopped us before we could start.

No one ever told me it would be like this. I am driving my heart is pounding. throat dry, take a hit. my vessel shakes. the inside of my thighs suffer from vicious tremors. as my stomach tightens like a volcano, i felt it rise. i sobbed

No one ever told me it was so intricate. that emotions are real and so is abuse. and the scars formed by jumbled lost letters. so what good is a relationship anyways. i never heard about lust like i feel it. lust is more than wanting to fuck, and then fucking. i be thirsty to be touched, caresses and no it doesn’t have to be love. i just want your hands.

No one told me how quickly you can find yourself tied down, and how eager id be to be cut loose.

Im addicted to stimulation, just recovered, just relapsed.

I dont want to fuck you

rub my back

i dont want to fuck you

change the song

i. dont. want. to. fuck. you.

dont be like this

No one ever talked about this confusion, self control, confusion as i looked into his eyes and thought of another. I used you for attention, you used me cause i was your fetish.

I dont want to fuck you, but you did, and i’ll stay, and allow you to hold me after.

please excuse the broken winged messenger

due to a vulnerability that clouded my sight 

but your radiance gave it away

your. direction. 

your. time

its all sublime

roots of that stolen cotton swells within my throat as i stomach your false truth. 

you see you cannot hide from me, like me from you

i wont allow you to see it in my eyes

i wont allow you to hear it in my voice

you cant taste it on my skin as i do with you

your mask is crooked and chip 

and i only wish to rip it off to reveal 

the retired magician within the midst of his disastrous last trick

all that status 

and for what

to shrivel away on the worldly stage of hopeless deceit and lies

why must you insist on picking up that retched dagger strong and made to kill all that is 

all that was

becoming

worthless nights

wasteful words

and bloody hands