WHAT I

What I have is nothing. What I do isn’t much to take notice of. What I have to say can be written and ignored, or not. Who I am is no different than any other can say. What I will… What I by God’s will…. What I of dreams and hopes and reality. Who I am makes no difference as to WHAT I…. give.

What I, in truth, give … should be.. presently and presented as such… a gift. complicated in some complex humanity plea to be recognized by you. Whoever the fuck you are. What does it matter to me as long as you acknowledge and leave your acknowledgement in some form.. such as a like.

Then I can get egotistical and confidant. I can have that moment that relishes in the moment that you noticed. What I that I matter. What you..that you let me know that.

What is it that you mean to me?

What I wake up tomorrow to take with me in my endeavers of the day…. thanks to you.

what of suicide… should you be extravagant and a bit too much than is required of simple. A lawsuit then? Bully then.. you.?

Sensitive as the font I haven’t taken the time to choose. And for my heroes.. any less effort? What I, but to urge you to what? To read words within a 26 letter bracket only to fear plagerism? What I .. then a thief?? What I then… a reflected moment that hopes that we meet. ? To care if this finds in you a place of familiar… like a good cat grown old and knows where its place is to lie upon a bed. A challenge welcome or is it just an egging on to discourse and reason to bitch about in mumbles under my breath that you will never hear breathe in nor out. What I of importance beyond your eyes falling upon each syllable like a small white ball would for the primary set of our ranks. ?? Comprehension…. much like a masterpeace hanging upon a wall in a fine art museum… one of trash in my own opinion.. and the ghosts whispers through the halls… what i…..

THE REV. MOM SPEAKS

I well know that when it comes to any content that I post online that it is important for me to go over the work on a regular basis. This is because there are people out there that really need a Hobby Lobby, and have nothing better to do then to stay so glued to another person’s side that my proctologist is sure as shit going to inform me that they found your psychiatrist. Have any of you, readers, felt as though you are not only cyber shadowed to an extreme degree, but that your life… your daily life has been affected? The easy answer would seem to just stay off of the internet and the cell phone preoccupation. This is a difficult reality to apply when the world lures dependency upon your time and attention in this realm of human existence. Kind of sad, isn’t it? Convenient as it may be to use technology in this data driven, neuro cotton candy mess of fear and greed, and our consumer denial of the impact that it has on our mental health. This is an old argument to state with passion to the public, I realize. However, we are overlooking the driven call of our beings to whatever purpose that we once set for ourselves to achieve. We have negated our very excited child that knew damn well what we were going to be when we grew up. Nothing was going to stop us. Now, all grown up, we declare the common complaint about where the time has gone, and due to the typical reference of this declaration… there is no helping aspect to blow past our downhearted dismay that we overcome it and claim that superhero place in society. Just like we always knew that we would when we were four and wanted our own tights and capes. Well, snap out of it. By the time that this age realizes that we are missing out on the best parts of ourselves… superheroes will be standing in line to handle the situation. I’ve been here for far too long, and it is lonely. There is a need for new brainstorming that humbles our human trait of being to return us to our rightful place. Have a wonderful day.

LITTLE HEARTS AND VOICES

what i

a child’s day

There are so many years

To a child’s day.

Yet, how often do we pray…

That even if there is no tomorrow

May they never see such sorrow…?

Because no matter what it brings

Hope is strong in a child’s dream,

And before tomorrow ever comes…

A lifetime of hope

Has just begun.

                   written by Lana K Lilla

inspired dreams

Behind closed eyes there’s a place she goes

That the thief of dreams will never know

Her only friend… the voice of a song

In a special place

Where dreams belong.

Magic in melody her spirit dances free

Where others abandoned, and never believed.

A thief steals a chance with promises told,

And laughs as you cry

When left broken to hold.

So, when the thief saw the girl in her dance

Song held her safe

In a dream of chance.

The reflection now seen of the little girl grown

Is now the voice of a song

For another to know

Sharing the gift of words in the wind

I’ve come to write this to say thank you,

My friend.

written by Lana K Lilla

there’s a place recalled of masquerades and shadowed halls

where dancing eights of infinity come to life

in eyes, behold, a chapter for the oldest souls,

and those who pray and seem lost

inside of a glass untimely waltz as it carousels and acrobats

God forbid, the loss to laugh

for these are seen by only love, and words are spoken sacred of

in heavenly steps of perfected rest, and in the dance of in between

you and me

and those who have forgotten what is to come after that…

written by Lana K Lilla

aphids… paralleled…a mirror warrants verse streams

of seductive, i

questioning my own moral company

and i fucked myself, my son, again

in that rose dress behind me

while in the corner turns

like grover laughing through wearing a headset,

and joystick hat

without memory of my name

analog… shit like that

to find for auction

in a vacuum driven

by a terrified man

so, with the remote thrown out with the bitch

is the nigger who laid the brick and mortar

as the queen declares the frame

the hall marked

the scene as i was told to be

with my throat torn out

my son, below, naked and screaming of us

that we are way too loud

the destroyer moved to a knee

a tour

and our, then, uploaded hour

written by Lana K Lilla based on true events.

So, we move from innocence. Either because we’ve lost our own, or bare witness to the loss through other means, and we decide. We decide what we are going to do as grown ups… this is where it becomes do or die… super heroes stand in line… wait until …be reassured, however, in this: heroes ride into the sunset for a reason.. it is because they know where it rises.

blues travelin’ sunday sailing through

the days of love and eight days a week

come and gone

no screams of fanfare and centerfolds of sexy

weeping the lonely of a dream

wonder

wonder

never look back half heartedly

seemingly prohibited hope

floats in blues and withering sails

the days are frail and fleeting through

what’s left of me and you to say

we’ve still got today

bright and withering

bright and withering

the seemingly

blues travelin’ sunday sails on through

the days past

and looking forward to me and you

never look back half heartedly

seemingly prohibited

hold on

holding on to the eternal dream

seemingly set sail to you and me

bright and withering

bright and withering

written by Lana K Lilla