is it not your child?

what is this?  this pain?
what is this insane desire to stay trained to the mill of illusionary dictatorship?
what is this pain? what is this saying?
your pain is my pain.
my pain, I am saying, is not real,
which means what you’re trying to justify I’m saying ain’t here.
and even I can’t say that our loud without shame.
even I can’t say that what you feel isn’t real and that love is all there is because it is the only factor.
factoring in all options, I am lost for a  response,
for my head shouts out a truth but my heart screams for more.
she screams: “Open this up! Open this up and see!”
for there is a well here of suffering, of needing and protecting.
there is a well here of feeling and i’ll be damned if i’m kneeling to some kind of denying,
some kind of redefining the parameters of my perception.
because as far as I can feel this is real. this is real and that is what I feel and there ain’t no one, no where gonna tell me otherwise.

and I hear you and within you a rage oh so strong.
a rage that burns deeply, a rage gone on and on.
a rage of the fury within us all, the indignity of being here at all.
oh how it sucks.
oh how it is sore,
oh how it pains us right to the core.
this nonsense, this shite, this unrelentless constant tripe.
suffering, suffering from since time began.
separation, separation, disconnection from Source and thrown into the deep end from an embrace so deep
to trauma, approval, the search for love, the competition of evolution,
the trial of lovability and the race for survival.
and even then if you made it with a mother of earth who held you and loved you with a heart full of grace, you would have seen it for yourself in the actions of mankind,  your friends turned to foe’s and the love left behind.
the chaos,
the nonsense on which normality lies
and which schooling attempts to perpetually abide.
and they tried (oh how they tried!)
to keep you from seeing the matrix’s blipping and ‘normality’ tripping over itself to be helpful in all the wrong places.
offering an ‘all-consuming comfort’ with distraction, side orders of suppression.
eat me, eat me, don’t fail to order more of me,
there’s more of me, more of me in all different flavours
to restore you to prime position in the competition.
and then you can be best of the best, best of the rest…

and there that does leave you with nothing and no one.
no genuine connection,
no hope for making one
and love got lost,
left at the family gate.

and you scream  – “NO MORE! You Fucking Bastard Whores!
you fucked it all up, you fucking maddening people.”
people doing their best,
doing what they thought was needed within this test of time
with no real guidance but the non-self world
with its gods of convenience and religion, gods of control based upon oppression.
worship lead from a place of suppression of everyone’s spirit,
segregating us all, dividing, colliding and providing a wall of judgment
to enforce and control us all.
and it is just people doing their best, doing what they believe is in the best interests of all.

but this means nothing to you in pain,
this means nothing to you who has had to suffer from the insane insanities of man’s inhumanities.
and so, hey ho, on we go…
for in the end this is just a cycle, a reoccurring cycle and we are here looking back but also wanting to move forward.
and you can stay angry at the world and this energy stays within your system.
and you can stay disappointed in the world but, only, is it not your child?
is the world not just trying it’s hardest?
is it not just needing you to smile a little and give it a chance a little?
throw a leap of faith at it and allow it to grow a little?
hold it, for it needs a cuddle, a gentle warm one within the warmth of your coat and body
and it needs to be heard for its pain that it carries is killing it… how absurd.
and it can be done.
you can hold this enormous one and love it for all its horrors and all its foibles,
for all it’s traumas and all it’s evils.
for it is just a scared child caught up in this madness.
there’s such a sadness.
and can you hold its hand once its ready and it’s said all it needs to say?  can you hold it’s hand and steady it and let it walk with you by your side full of grace?
allow it to see you in your purposeful place?

and then I know back there we will go, back to sadness, disappointment and sorrow,
for it will be us that needs a cuddle and a huddle and a warming.
and as we find more moments of grace, of beauty and love
i suppose our true nature is known and we must follow these home,
remembering that this way can lead us all over the place but still, ultimately and finally
brings us to joy.

This poem is copyleft and is subject to the conditions of copyleft.

See link here

See link here for poem’s collaborative film


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