Deja Vu

Deja vu for sure
Like we've been here before
These lines I write, they aren't mine

But history will hash it out in time
Spinning round and round again

Spilling from your head
Come words already said
As visions flash upon a screen
They are all things already dreamed
Spinning round and round again

Pencil scratched page
Authors another age
Sliding through the sands of time
The grains cave in with every line
Spinning round and round again

Watch a little boy
Pick up a tarnished toy
From the toy a lesson learned
And once again the earth will turn
Spinning round and round again

Every Time

Every time I get close

You feel so good

Another dose

Put me in the mood

But you can't give it to me

And I can't take it

Every time you say a word

I take it to heart

Thought that I heard

But your mouth was shut

Cause you can't say it to me

And I won't hear it

Every time you look at me

Stare into your eyes

Blink and turn away

Make me think it's all lies

If you don't see it in me

Then I can't watch it

Every time I get close

You feel so good

Another dose

Put me in the mood

But you can't give it to me

And I can't take it

Butterfly Effects

Butterfly in a silken shell
Comfortable chrysalis caterpillars know well
While others fly, in wrappings dwell
When to break it time will tell

Too many threads to understand them
They fall apart and seem so random
When they break no way to mend them
Is the courage there to rend them

Break free and unfold new wings
See the result that action brings
The grand adventure will begin
Discard the wrappings for what's within

Conceptions

You will see everything that you expect to see, but everything might not appear as you expected it. The less preconceptions about what you will see, the more you will see. You mold your world with what you conceive and your world molds you with what you perceive. Preconceptions which are given to you from sources outside of your own cognitive processes can act as tints do on your vision, blocking certain wavelengths of color so that they don't offend your eye.

Concepts that you hold to be true in your mind are like tools that you hold in your hand, crafting the materials that you create. Biased preconception that are handed to you that you choose to hold will hinder your hands from crafting your own ideas, acting as burdens hung around your wrists, slowing you down and inhibiting you from experiencing the world in balance. When we work within the balance of nature and within the balance of human emotions, we can live sustainably, if that is what we each expect to see.

As you are constantly thinking of what to expect next, your brain is processing, creating new information to prepare you for how to react. Preconceptions generated in this preparatory process can be useful and act as a shield would in combat, but once a peaceful situation is reached, the shields can be put down. Old preconceptions that have been held onto for too long become obsolete as the conditions in which they were created change. Flexibility and recyclibility become virtues in the concepts that we hold.

Momentary Living

Waiting for the time to arrive
The moment when you feel alive
Like lightning bolts shooting from your eyes
And lighting up the cloudy skies

In dreams you see the brilliant flash
But wake up in a pile of trash
Knowing that there must be more
But unaware of the current score

Unaware, so again you wait
Unsure if you're early or late
Knowing only that when it comes
Warmth like basking in the sun
Melting away the layers of shivers
When the message is delivered

The Ancient Forest

Underneath the ancient trees

that grow their branches high 

towards the sky 

to gather up the light 

and filter it 

to flowing shades 

of emerald and jade 

which reflect upon 

the gently rolling waters 

of a stream 

where happy forest daughters 

bathe and dream 

pleasant visions 

of plentiful provisions.

Of flowers grown to fruits 

on shoots that bend down 

the branches of the trees, 

and pleased, 

the daughters freely play. 

A sudden shudder in the leaves 

breaks them from 

their peaceful dreams 

to hear a buzzing strange machine 

the likes of which they've never seen. 

With cold claws it tears 

tender trees up from the earth 

and shakes the dirt off 

as it feeds entire trees 

to it's ever chewing teeth, 

billowing black coughs 

into the air that scare 

all the creatures 

on the boughs 

as they huddle 

and watch how 

the noble forest daughters 

go forward 

and are slaughtered 

by spinning blades. 

And the river runs 

red and black 

with blood and mud,

turning dreams

of those downstream 

into nightmares, 

but the machine has no cares 

as it bears it's buzzing blades into the trees.

Silence is gold

If silence is golden, what's the value of gold
What are we holding when our tongues have grown cold

Silence is but the absence of sound
Empty hands pass nothing around

Silence means no sweet songs to hear
No encouraging words to ward off fear

Silence, the beginning of the end
Another missed chance to make a friend

Silence, how does it differ from death
It's sadder for it has a wasted breath

The Dread

The truth is you're just too scared to move
Scared of anything that might make you fall in love
With something outside of the dream you've been shown
Scared of what you've missed by not searching on your own
So you don't stand up, never take a look
At the stories that you can't find in any books
The stories of hunger, from the underfed
About searching for a bite, running from the dread

Countless people over centuries living in pain
How much longer will the story go on unchanged
Much more convenient to just fill your head
With what the television tells you so easily instead
Of taking a look at the path that lies ahead
If you're lonely now, start breaking your bread
Share what you've got while there's things to share
So if something happens to you theres someone who'll care

So when you're searching for a bite, running from the dread
You'll have a peaceful place to lay your head