Posted by: SPT | June 28, 2010

my resistance

Have you ever let a song run right through you?  Yes, that’s the feeling I supressed for way too long. I saw it, even heard something creep upon my sight, but unaware of the options that exist I slept through the emotions. But feeling like a descriptive word storm, I decided to get up and spell out the destiny in fron’ of me, placing each letter next to appropriate apostrophes. So much is held within these bottles to the rim, it’s a surprise I haven’t exploded yet into a ball of absolute mess. Nothing is so capable and willing to sacrifice himself from within, but this power is useless unless I use it. Make complete sense, make billion cents, it’s not much in the life of things but I will continue to destroy what they believed. And even the stories that I’ve seen, I know much better than to compete with that type of misery.
I cannot pause this for any single beat, for any moment in time that I keep, I must instead keep goin, runnnin on my feet until I’m weak at the knees and then I keep my hip checked until my gut lets loose and then right when I’m taking a breath my lungs, they stop working too. There isn’t much left, as you could imagine, but instead of giving up I want to let my brain think. My heart beat. My skin sink. Perhaps it’s just bone and blood but until this life is done, I don’t want to be another possibility. I don’t want to sit and waste this keep, this honorable feat, this ability to be keen. It’s a story unfolding beneath my concrete streets. Mainly above, but hidden below.

But why stop there, am I out of ammo in this never ending fight? Or do I simply want to end? Fighting harder than told, I play this role like my own considering it word. I have no other job but to be, Shashi, talking to myself like I’m another peep. But sometimes out loud makes sense, it’s what we hear that rains in. I allow, I create and I follow. If I agree, knowing within me that this is it, that this It makes more sense, why would I let another flow come in. There’s not a fight to be held, but a battle between the forces. I feel them hovering, some above and some below, battling like a sword. Trying to tell me that this life isn’t as it seems, that this world keeps hovering, that whether or not I admit, I exist in a much larger universe. I believe the facts and understand its deeper than that. I try to make sense.

But instead they want me to make cents. To materialize. To make money and pride. As if that’s something produced, I look at them like you’s a tool.. except I only read what I’ve wrote to realize the truth, I just learned that word. There’s nothing I created, I am simply making the best of what’s already made. Is there flaw, is there more reason for me to get a job than to be opposing wrong, is there a reason for me to give up..or can I not do both, I’d like to live two.

Good and bad, i decide. I choose and I fight. I know that wrong is not right, just because I called it untight. I let it loose and put aside the sacrifice, I shouldn’t have the choice like a kite floating, but gravity was also created giving me control of my flight.

I’d, me, this, see.. words created thru mystery. I exist for a reason, unknown to me. I can guess, I can feel right, I can tell myself that tonight the full moon existed thru. My eyes allowed them to. But even as I pass, or continue to last, I, alongside with others, am only witness. To say that the decision is mine is selfish, for that doesnt even rhyme. There’s no rhythm with that line. There’s no float to that cloud.

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