The Karma of Passive Aggression #poetry

At this point in time many of us have realized two basic truths/

The first is this fact/ How folks are/ and how folks act/ might not match/ like your two thumbs do/

Number two/ There is karma associated with everything we do/

Before your mind contemplates/ or deliberates/ the karma we make by being fake/ please allow me to elaborate/

How folks act/ and how folks are “not matching” (in this case) is in reference/ to folks that are passive aggressive/ 

Those folks that avoid confrontation at all cost/ as well as forward motion or progression/

Left back in spirituality school/

Thinking it is hip and cool/

Showing up to class without class/ or the notes from yesterday’s lesson/

Carrying burden around like it’s a blessing/ 

Fool/

Choosing burden and oppression over freedom of expression/ 

Making life uncomfortable for them-self/ a slave to their inner rage and aggression/ 

Now bold talk and big bluffs/ from those who ain’t that tough/

Brings me back to the second point I made on line three/

Before your mind contemplates/ or deliberates/ the karma we make by being fake/ please allow me to elaborate/

There is karma associated with everything we do/ is in reference to/ the circular nature of the universe/

Meaning the energy you put out will most certainly return to you/

Sort of like how the soul returns to god/

Take me for example/

I was too passive to speak back in the day/

Even though I had plenty to say/

I would get walked on lyrically by emcees who spit aggressively/

My Karma/ regret and dishonor/ knowing I would have killed had I just went harder/

Present day/ No sons and no daughters/ Just God in closed quarters/ Tea leaves and hot water/ 

Went from inspired chaos to lyrical order/

Went from news watcher to street reporter/

Speaking live from the concrete jungle, brown bricks and gray mortar/

The Karma for believing I wasn't worthy was the reality of my own thoughts/

The karma for living on my knees was wobbly legs when I finally stood up/

The karma for living fake was a failure to recognize the real/

The karma for loving fearless is accepting immortality/

The karma for spreading my wings was flying away/

The karma for living a dream was being awake/

The karma for teaching a student was learning a lesson/

The karma of passive aggression ~

GB

#OnceUponATime there were 2 lovers...

#OnceUponATime there were 2 lovers who were ordained to teach each other love's true nature as well as the nature of people...

One lover was a man who saw himself as invincible, the other was a woman who saw herself as broken...

She hid her brokenness behind a mask of ego and lust. Keeping her lover drunk with passion, hoping that her secret would never be told...

But her lover discovered her secret... But saw her brokenness as merely a crack in a vase filled with roses...

Shamefully she rejected his love... Even though he gave gentle kisses to mend the crack in the vase... Her vanity could not accept the flaw...

She betrayed her lover... Then tried to justify her actions by attempting to break him so that he would have the same perceived flaw...

She successfully broke him, but not in the way she intended. For he had a vase of a different clay. 

The vase in this story represents vanity.

The flowers inside the vase represent love, making the crack a perfect metaphor for fear.

And just to make this things a bit more clear in the hopes of making you aware...

The vase cannot hold the water the flowers need to flourish.

So if fear is the crack that means that love is undernourished.

Again I say she successfully broke him... But his vase was forged from a different clay.

It was one part ego and two parts of naïveté.

She called out to him from the top of a high rocked cliff with promise in her voice and insecurity on her tongue/ 

She was done/

The cliff represents her life/ She pushed out of her space, plunging  him to a the rocks below/

whoa/ Shattering his ego/ 

It looked like spiritual death at 1st, but I assure you death was not what it was/

The ego cannot die until the body does but it can be broken down/

To explain I will flip the flowers in a vase metaphor/

Imagine the vase shattering after being pushed off of a cliff/

The flowers that lay amongst the broken pieces represent the man now free from the shell of the ego/

Thus the flower represent self in this case/

The flowers were in water which represents love as it did in my earlier example/

Water is inside the stems of flowers/

The water in the stems eventually evaporate and head toward the sky/

The floating water represents our true selves which is the soul/

Completely born again to do as it pleases…

GB

We Talk About "Unconditional Love" on this Episode of #JMT of this #podcast

I walk in spirit with God's wind at my back... I think out-loud and I share those thoughts with critical thinkers. Today's thinkers are Aye Yo Jazz & Author Carolyn Blakey.

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/kulturezinenetwork/2016/01/28/just-my-thoughts-with-graffiti-bleu

"She Fascinates Me" #poetry #remix

She fascinates me/She fascinates me with her relentless exploration/She is hungry for the flavors of passion/

If joy had a taste it would taste like her/
And after me being starved of love for quite some time/

I would experience a manifesto that was quite sublime/

She tastes life with me just before dripping wisdom on my core/

I love her and I know it from balls to bone marrow/

In flesh and in spirit we dance forever/
Like the edges of 2 galaxies spinning besides each other/ 

Harmonious we are beyond what man can destroy with his bitterness/
And even within a subtle wickedness/

Sweet she remains/ always as I endure our endless cycle of passion and fascination/

Our session of intimacy was similar to dueling vocals on an Old school jam sung in A cappella/

However Do You Want It/

However do you need it/

Harmonious and competitive/ 
Spontaneous and repetitive/ 
Innovative and contemplative passion in all of its creative glory/

You may not understand how sweet her love was to a starving heart/

Her sweat was sweeter than the syrup of peaches/

We were both drinking like the sands of Egypt surrounded us without water/

Music is made welcoming the rain/ her aggressive submission is laced with trust/ Just like the butterfly trusts a breeze that is blowing towards randomness/

I trust her with liquid legacy/ she drinks from me savoring the wine made from the crushed grapes of Ethiopia/
Utopia/ braided with thickness/ weaved into thickness for all time/

This time documented by the Sun/ while the eternal passions are blamed on the Moon/ for arriving too late and leaving too soon/

#BlogTalkRadio "21 Questions to Ask Your Future Spouse"

I walk in spirit with God's wind at my back... I think out-loud and I share those thoughts with critical thinkers. Today's thinkers are my good friends Brian Morales & Christy. A couple currently experiencing "New Love"

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/kulturezinenetwork/2015/12/24/just-my-thoughts-with-graffiti-bleu-3

She Fascinates Me...

She fascinates me with her relentless exploration for the flavors of passion/seasoned with the syrup of joy/

She tastes life with me just before dripping wisdom on my core self/ from balls to bone marrow/flesh and spirit we dance forever/

Like the edges of 2 galaxies spinning besides each other/ Harmonious we are beyond what man can destroy with his bitterness/

Sweet she remains always as I endure our endless cycle of passion and fascination/

Our session of intimacy was similar to dueling percussion and wind instruments during a late night jazz jam/ Harmonious and competitive/ spontaneous and repetitive/ innovative and contemplative passion in all of its creative glory

Sweat sweeter than the syrup of peaches/ drinking like the sands of Egypt surround us without water/

Music is made welcoming the rain/ her aggressive submission is laced with trust/ Just like the butterfly trusts a breeze that is blowing towards randomness/

I trust her with liquid legacy/ she drinks from me savoring the wine made from the crushed grapes of Ethiopia/

Utopia braided with thickness/ weaved into thickness for all time/

This time documented by the Sun while the eternal passions are blamed on the Moon for arriving too late and leaving too soon/