Words & Sounds

A commitment:

To coloured picture sounds that spread my soul over the spaces of
life.


Spaces. Abstract and straight-forward places that a similar kind of mass fills.

Ideas. That tip-toe around systems for efficient personal growth.

People measured by the COMPETITION of what they do know and forgetting about the art of what they don't.

Touch me, O world!
And destroy the predisposed COMPOSITION of what's playing inside me. Cuz the notes!

How the notes sound within when I fill the spaces that satisfy them!

Unwind me!
Because sometimes life feels like those dark cartoons that chase the ones running away politely.

My loved ones and I see the desperation for more than thoughtless wires!

With wires, coloured picture sounds start to choke. They choke. You choke. We choke. I choke!

Those spaces become cupboards that are never filled
Those words don't stop flowing but they occupy landfills and scrap-yards that weigh on my consciousness until matters get worse than just choking.

Friends and family start to look like inanimate objects, not people I'd fend for and protect.
So I stop pick pocketing identity from all these distractions
and hear a language I haven't heard in awhile say to my canvas,
"You forgot yourself, something precious. Remember in this moment reserved for how you wept bitterly in light of this."

Revisit.
Revisit the substantial images that you learned to speak
Remember how words brought forth strength on the days when people were nothing but weak

Learn from the stories that many villages have taught you to see with.

Oh... That's right. To see!

I guess that's the only reason why I ever really did like poetry.
It gave me more to see than intimate sorrows robbed of dignity

But God gives us stories... so that He can do all sorts of guiding
And we just bounce blessings in disguise to those living in the survival of their stories, not yet able to be writing.

"Come find me!" I said to the Reason why.
Who then took my little left hand, canvased it with coloured picture plans and humbled me.

You've heard it been said that someone came alive after having been pronounced dead.
The same can be said about my heavy heart and hardened head.

I'm graced. Graced with the life-long struggle of: I was blind but now see. I was mute but now speak.

I was blinded but now see, mute but now sing! Back and forth between blind but now see.

And such is our experience as we live to loosen writing those coloured picture sounds we confide in.
That we're guided in.
That we die and come alive in..