SIMPLE WORLD

battle scars

lines lined up just like tiger stripes

White ridges on a glass table

Run through and break a nose

Like a zoo cub pushed into the wild wild jungle

Earning much pain, cuts and paper

Dealing, hustling, soaking in violence

Black Maybe

Settled on Texas heat

Smothered with white lies

Like a baby returned

Eyes wide open, bleeding

Punctured by adopted religion

Then the tears flow

Blood and stomach twisting

Hunger to seek more

Water the only quench

Pulsating rotation

My heart beating to the silence

Traveled far away

Only to be reminded of my skin

Reality the better teacher

Experience my only shield

To learn was to fall

Dirt driving

Night collisions

False relief

Sun bathed

Sin drunk

How many moons roamed?

Vultures circling

Waiting for the end

An end, my beginning

Peace of Mind

Searching, roaming

Questions, only God can answer

Happiness, more burden

Arrival into fear

Walls, all four squares

I sit holding my knees

Inhaling in the green trees

Exhaling from the root: doubt

Tears then sleep

Searching, roaming

Off the grid

I am moving, stumbling

The heaviness takes all

Blood streaming with grief

Questions, God may never answer

Laughter caught short

Destination into paranoia

Walking, back into my Eden

Breathe, convoluted quarrels

Out goes any semblance of sanity

Flowing, eyes clouded

I, scrutiny

When I start with I

I know separation

The urge to point

To preach rather than teach

Fingers forward

Yet

I, myself lacking reflection

My soul outside

Holding onto survival

Cornered beast

The balance remains without I

Resurfaces when my thirst sits with content

When I start with I

I know the removal of self

The need to decipher

To hold others to the cross

My eyes judging

Yet

I,myself lacking redemption

My soul exposed

Holding onto knowledge for dear life

Trapped butterfly

The center clearer when I sit with both

Revival when I accept the rivers of time

The world has shifted and so has magic. The magic we once knew is still the same but expressed through a different lens. The old and the new magic both exist but the language may have adapted to accommodate our new reality. Simple, the stars have fallen down into our hands. We no longer look into the stars, we look down into our phones. Like a bowl of water, we watch, predict, fail, lie, smile, laugh, join, expose all of which we have into this bowl of stars.

Magic has always worked with the sky, either through oral telling, invoking, incantation, photosynthesis. Magic always is, regardless which ever medium exist. Its all about perspective. The old magic appears far and far more like a fairy tale to the new audience: we the people. Our new magic system is not so fantasy like, it is our reality, we call on the system day to day. When we wake up, we engage into the blue light, register our faces, and then past present and future time is revealed in an instant. We are accessors or capturers of time. When you exist in your own medium, magic should always feel less fantasy, more in the line of rare or hard to find but it exist. Take any piece of technology we have now back to anyone from the 300 years ago, and you may just find yourself tied to a stake.