Jun 06
THE NEED TO BE
Sometimes it is easy to stick our head in the sand and not pay attention to our heart and be beaten down by opinions of others. When you fear opinions, you are giving your authority over to someone else. Listen to what the person is saying because in most cases people are reacting to pre-program responses and fearing to be individualistic in their day-to-day life. When you choose to be an individual, your own authority, you will find you are walking alone. Trust, you are not actually alone but it is about perception. The reality you occupy is about transition from a prison cell mentality where there is some authority figure regulating your life so you don’t look within and know who you truly are. It is easier to let people’s opinions keep you blind and off the path of your heart. It is always easier to think someone knows more than you. You know what you need to know when you are ready. The need to be is inherent within all but somewhere along the line, you believed someone told you that you can be only what they think you should be and only can advance based on their opinions and piece of paper. Knowledge is within; the wisdom is how you choose to use that knowledge. When you avoid being yourself, you lose your voice; you become diminish and become a game board for others to move you around their dramas as they please. It is time to see the world for what it is; it is a classroom and it is not the end all and be all; once you come to realize that, you are no longer chained to anyone’s opinion but become the dancer from the dance.
May 06
DRAGONFLY - THE TRANSFORMED AND THE TRANSFORMER
pic by Troy Kendal
My teeth fly around me.
Nymphs from the subconscious
have unborn poems as their wings;
and I have been
this tooth of Wisdom
when he asked to be born
from the world that imprisoned
his names;
And I shed my form
and became the dragonfly.
He ride this Insight
into the realms of the Mothers.
My teeth fly around me
sewing illusions,
sewing dreams
as Sirens on the shore
of the subconscious.
My poems are the teeth
in the mouth of the Rider
who is the Light
when mated.
We are the heart
of air and water.
We are the fulfillment;
the lone soul on the path;
the traveler carrying the light
and the staff.
We are transformers,
the ancient magic
based in love.
We walk in many places
as many places resides
within us.
We are dragonfly,
The Transformed
And The Transformer.
Apr 28
LIFE IN DEAD THINGS
pic by Troy Kendal
Lorenzo Buford
© Lorenzo Buford 2009
- a poetry book from “Eye of the Machine” novel series
GENDER INFECTED POEMS
Whether it is a good or a bad poem
does it matter?
Someone will make it a male poem?
Someone will make it a female poem?
Perception of readers
will give the poem
a vagina
or a penis.
It will be a poem that houses
the Garden of Eden
or the descent of words
into a human form.
The poem will be made
in the reader’s image
so is this poem
angelic or a parasite?
Shall it be a black man
or shall it be a white man?
Shall the poem be the wandering alien
or a hermit carrying a lantern
looking for Truth?
Or shall the poem appear
in a dead language
or scattered across the night sky
like stars to far away to be conscious of us.
The poem will be judged
as duality,
as consequences of an effect,
as guilt,
as hidden anger,
as a raging ghost in The Machine’s reality,
as the last effect of dark magic, or
as The Crucified riding someone’s ass.
It’s a pregnant poem
because the reader
will seed it, gestate it,
birth it into a new poem,
as a story of a man, a woman
and their separation that plays on.
(more…)
Apr 23
ANOTHER SLEEPING BEAUTY
I’ve always felt I existed in a fairy tale; not that mine was a classic, but it has been woven in and out of centuries.
It is a telling. It is when one must pay attention to the B side of a coin. When the song that isn’t heard on a recording but comes from within from a place you cannot imagine, it is the one that touches your heart. It is a place that is within time; it is the path you want to take through a dark wood when your nature is calling but you decide to take a cab.
Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen. The king was a factory worker at the steel mill; and the queen took in ironing until she found herself about to give birth to their second child. The first was a boy but that’s a different story. This was a blessed event even though this child was fated to be exiled from his true home.
(more…)
Apr 23
REBIRTH: DEATH OF A GODDESS
So what does one say to oneself after a failed suicide attempt? I was having a bad hair day and I thought mixing several medications with my Vanilla Cherry might put me in a better state of mind.
“I don’t want to do this,” I could hear myself screaming.
Another part of me replies, “This part of me, this Frankenstein creature that I’ve allowed others to make cannot continue. I am not this creature. I don’t want to be what everyone thinks I should be.”
What trigger this moment?
(more…)
Apr 23
LIGHT IN DARK PLACES
Reno looked into his wine glass. Sometimes if he stared long enough, he would see images and faces that would rise and fall into other faces. Sometimes if he listened closely, the faces would speak, or a place would open up and he would witness another of his many lives.
Memory flashing through: “Sold to the highest bidder,” said the Dreamseller.
The Soul became a reptilian goddess as a voice whispered to its mind, “Change the story by overlaying a new pattern to help create a new Earth.”
(more…)
Apr 23
FALLEN ANGEL
BLACK ROOTS MONOLOGUE ON STAGE TO AN AUDIENCE OF ROACHES: It is the end of the twelfth beginning as the thirteenth one arises. I have thoughts like this when I’m sitting a bar and I’m having my fifth beer. I had a vision in between waiting on the bartender to bring me another beer, I saw the angels in Heaven descending into Hell and the Demons in Hell ascending to Heaven to become the new angels because the Angels had become to dark, too bestial in their folly.
And Death keeps adding new faces onto an old face.
I can smell death from people walking by. People have become abodes for ancient deities. They hold these phantom wraiths that move people around like mechanical toys. People’s daily rituals do not inspire resurrection from the mind of The Dead Dreamers. Their need to caress the dead has emptied humans of their mind and turning their spiritual fire into an ember; and they cannot find a Beloved to breathe upon that dying flame.
(more…)
Apr 23
EXODUS: THEATER OF THE VOICE
There is a secret in my death dramas - within them is the Voice which became the Light, then physical manifestations - plants, birds, animals, water, rocks, humaniods -and now within these fallen forms is the seed of life - my Voice. Of course, I am not aware of this until I am in-between a collection of moments which to me are like eyes. That phrase - eyes are windows to the soul - well, they could also be doorways. Walking into someone’s eyes, looking out of someone’s eyes. Is this what life and death is? Depending on your intoxication to physical senses, it could be Heaven or Hell. Segueing from one emotion to another, it seems in these eye dramas I unfold either as an actor, a director, a writer, or an audience member. My eye must become a phoenix.
(more…)
Apr 23
CAPTIVE DREAM
The Soul too the Ari An, a reptilian race, was a winged creature whose wings were now clipped thanks to their DNA manipulation.
The measure of their new fallen enemy had not been determined. Through the works of their scientists and geneticists, they found the market value of the Soul had far ranging implications. Souls would become a tool for the Ari An Empire to stretch their territorial authority beyond its current borders. They found that the Soul’s essence could be fragmented and placed inside physical containment that could animate inanimate constructs and provided a new work force for the Ari An Empire.
(more…)
Apr 23
BLACK ROOT
Spotlight comes upon a Roach standing center stage holding a microphone. He waves to the audience of creatures and insects to be quiet. He speaks. “Café Bardo proudly presents Black Root in his never ending Starseed performance art piece, “The Dark Diva.”
The audience applauds as the Roach steps out of the spotlight and Black Root enters. He is dressed in a long black coat with sliver buttons, a long black skirt with a split in the center revealing that he is wearing leather pants and boots. His skin is a dark chestnut brown, his shoulder-length black hair snakes about his head as if it is living. The hair gives the impression of being electrical also as if lightning is striking when he moves his head suddenly. His eyes are slightly slanted and the color of coal. Even the audience is not reflected in his eyes. His voice is melodic though there are moments you feel like it could scratch at your inside if you were a heckler. His stance seems to grow as he continues to speak.
(more…)
Recent Comments