ASSUMED INTIMACY
how do you teach someone to react to you?
to not lunge, expunge, or give due?
to not justify, or show off pride;
it only cheapens it if you do.
so you place yourself in a demeanor
to give fine thought and exchange.
and when it reciprocates, and reverberates,
you think it will never Be the same.
consumed in an assumed Intimacy,
i succumbed to the way you enticed me.
the Indian blanket you wrapped me in
piqued every Belief inside me.
the air, the care of Passion.
the peek into a soul, inside,
gave me pause, to cause an elation
that i allowed to come in, to reside.
i know Death like i know no Other.
i mourn and i moan for my lost.
but i keep them still to abide me,
and i cherish each thing Love has taught.
and each one carries you further,
each facet, each gleam of an eye.
the instant spark of Recognition
awakens tides that are carried inside.
to speak it is exquisite;
to acknowledge, to fess, to avow.
to live up to tenants you’ve learned to Embrace
by Living, by giving, to Allow.
release is the need that is Wanton.
your Energy commands your soul.
you cannot think clearly when you’re grieving;
the Story has to be told.
and in that very Telling,
in those moments your Voice emits,
you find the very solace you were after,
for you, Yourself, are the pit of it.
it is only by strife that we think twice.
we don’t think much when things are Fine.
we assume it will be this Forever,
discounting the factor of Time.
all or Nothing, nothing or All,
it tilts, and it skews, and it rifts.
so the gist is to catch your own Brass Ring,
and to let it glisten, and to listen to it.
for no One ever owns a single thing.
nor invent, or originate, or create.
Life, Earth, Love, Birth,
are still not ours to make.
pray. prey. say it either way.
no matter your accent, it speaks.
it only depends on where you utter it
that you’re allowed to absorb or disgorge your Grief.
what would Carl Jung say?
with Karlheinz Stockhaüsen in tow?
that the Sum total of all you Choose to embrace
is All that you ever need to know.
it does not stand up to Question.
it is not equated with Fate.
it’s only a Tool if you’ll choose it;
Ally-in-Free, a portal, a gate.
interesting juxtaposition,
what is external or internalized.
but it’s the very crux of the dilemma
that mankind refuses to abide.
pit. spar. confront. ajar.
we read who we are by other’s ways.
birthing, unearthing, excavating,
we learn our vibrations by Exchange.
to regard the Body by what you put in it.
to regard the Soul by what you speak.
and therein is the Heart of the loss or the win,
when the Ephemeral becomes the concrete.
~
how do you teach someone to react to you?
to not lunge, expunge, or give due?
to not justify, or show off pride;
it only cheapens it if you do.
so you place yourself in a demeanor
to give fine thought and exchange.
and when it reciprocates, and reverberates,
you think it will never Be the same.
consumed in an assumed Intimacy,
i succumbed to the way you enticed me.
the Indian blanket you wrapped me in
piqued every Belief inside me.
the air, the care of Passion.
the peek into a soul, inside,
gave me pause, to cause an elation
that i allowed to come in, to reside.
i know Death like i know no Other.
i mourn and i moan for my lost.
but i keep them still to abide me,
and i cherish each thing Love has taught.
and each one carries you further,
each facet, each gleam of an eye.
the instant spark of Recognition
awakens tides that are carried inside.
to speak it is exquisite;
to acknowledge, to fess, to avow.
to live up to tenants you’ve learned to Embrace
by Living, by giving, to Allow.
release is the need that is Wanton.
your Energy commands your soul.
you cannot think clearly when you’re grieving;
the Story has to be told.
and in that very Telling,
in those moments your Voice emits,
you find the very solace you were after,
for you, Yourself, are the pit of it.
it is only by strife that we think twice.
we don’t think much when things are Fine.
we assume it will be this Forever,
discounting the factor of Time.
all or Nothing, nothing or All,
it tilts, and it skews, and it rifts.
so the gist is to catch your own Brass Ring,
and to let it glisten, and to listen to it.
for no One ever owns a single thing.
nor invent, or originate, or create.
Life, Earth, Love, Birth,
are still not ours to make.
pray. prey. say it either way.
no matter your accent, it speaks.
it only depends on where you utter it
that you’re allowed to absorb or disgorge your Grief.
what would Carl Jung say?
with Karlheinz Stockhaüsen in tow?
that the Sum total of all you Choose to embrace
is All that you ever need to know.
it does not stand up to Question.
it is not equated with Fate.
it’s only a Tool if you’ll choose it;
Ally-in-Free, a portal, a gate.
interesting juxtaposition,
what is external or internalized.
but it’s the very crux of the dilemma
that mankind refuses to abide.
pit. spar. confront. ajar.
we read who we are by other’s ways.
birthing, unearthing, excavating,
we learn our vibrations by Exchange.
to regard the Body by what you put in it.
to regard the Soul by what you speak.
and therein is the Heart of the loss or the win,
when the Ephemeral becomes the concrete.
~
Graphic: Intimacy,
by Thomas Blackshear


Salon.com
Comments
~R~
R+
The depths to which you reach Within are remarkable; your skill in giving voice to that examination is both prophetic and Boss; your words both illuminating and universal; laid end-to-end an absolute gift to a traveling spirit-reader. Beautifully, eloquently done.
~R~ to the nth power!