Some try to call me a Political Activist. But I’m not, I’m only Politically Active – ish, shit. My souls been hit. In the back of my head with a bag filled with bricks.
A funky mix is playing in my mind trying to steer my direction and leave my old self behind.
In kind, I’d rewind just to find a definite meaning behind the word “human kind” and unwind and untwine every perception that’s unkind and do shine and be fine, your old legacy built from Golden lines.
Be that sign, be that active symbol. Act divine, be holy and nimble. It’s simple, why hesitate when that’s mental. You could never be anywhere at all where you’re not learning how to be sentimental.
You see compassion is laughter, heartfelt joys be what your truly searching after. We all are hidden Masters just awaiting disasters so we climb out of ourselves with full on candor, doesn’t matter what path or manor.
I sometimes stammer when I’m stuck in a box. I’d need Thors hammer to unblock this old lock. No more blocks, or negative self talks. Instead I’ll walk, through the fire creating mental chalk, even the Devils afraid when I stalk, illuminating Angels with the spirit that I talk.
I see you dear soul. I see your true gold. I see your expression just waiting to be uncold. Un frozen, Un broken, heavens seal is your hearts token.
Oh yes we toking, weed lift us up ever higher as we smoking. Not enough kind words are ever spoken, so I’ll keep my illusions in sight when I write, call me J.R.Tolkien.
Sometimes slow with my flow but everyone runs at separate speeds don’t chu know? I got to let go, of this heartbreak I’ve begun to show, don’t need to be low to find yourself anymore.
Sometimes a chore, but alas never a bore. I climbed this mountain from the eastern shore to go and explore each and every shared core.
No longer emplored to ignore, any feelings of feeling sore, so I’ll shove my old ass out the door, and show people what good can be truly used for. #144