I am not this body

My skin has lost all radiance
I am quickly running out of patience

It is the same routine every agonizing day
Why do we all choose to stay?

Our lives on constant replay
All I have are these words to relay

I am not this body
I am something far more vast
I was put here to surpass
I know that in this life nothing will ever last

But I am not this body
I am something you cannot comprehend
I am a healer with no one to mend
How much longer must I pretend?

My hands are always seeking
Never to take but always to give
I need to live

I am not this body
There is an ocean inside of me
Almost identical to that of the one here on earth
Simultaneously giving birth but tampered with by man
Who knows how much more adulteration it will withstand

I am not this body
I am a vivacious tree
But right now it is winter and my leaves will continue to flee

I am not this body
I know not of containment
I am not here for mere entertainment
I am not this body

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Volcánica

Mi meditación es melancolía⠀ En un profundo mar azul de soledad⠀ No quiero perder este anhelo⠀ Si es lo único que me queda de ti⠀ Pensé que podría flotar⠀ Pero la médula de mis huesos te la tomaste⠀ Me encuentro hundiéndome para enfrentar el odio ardiente de la Tierra⠀ Mientras ella consume lo que queda entre las cenizas de nuestros sueños⠀ Al menos sé que allí te encontraré⠀ Algún día donde ayer es hoy y no hay mañana⠀ Te encontraré de alguna manera siempre⠀ En el despliegue de una nueva ola⠀ O el brote silencioso de una delicada flor⠀ Tal vez en la mañana cuando la tierra huele a rocío⠀ De alguna manera, todas estas cosas siguen siendo una oda para ti⠀ Para expulsarte, ¿qué hay que hacer?⠀ ¿Debo tragarte hasta lo más profundo de mí hasta escupir fuego, formando nuevos terrenos que solo mis pies tienen la fuerza para caminar? English translation: My meditation is melancholy In a deep blue sea of solitude I don’t want to lose this longing If it’s the only th
Read more

Jazz: Musical Anarchy, Based on "Jazz: A Film by Ken Burns"

   Jazz— musical anarchy pioneered by the oppressed colored Americans which, whether precisely known or not at the time, came to uproot outdated systems and cry out with songs of freedom. As beautifully stated in Burns’ first episode, titled Gumbo: “Jazz grew up in a thousand places but it was born in New Orleans.” Thanks to the smorgasboard of culture lent to us by 19th century America's most cosmopolitan city, New Orleans had the rich and diverse influences of slaves traditions, spirituals, creole music, minstrels, the war, ragtime, and of course the blues, all of which gave birth to jazz before it was even called as such. Jazz celebrated individual expression, the profundity of life and picked apart the human condition in its own improvisational language, evolving with every conversation but almost always rooted in the blues.      Starting with a checkered past, segregation and Jim Crow laws quickly strained the cultural fusion taking place musically after the abolishment of sla
Read more

Purple Tears

Why do I cry, cry, cry? Why does everything seem like a good enough reason to die? Purple tears cover my shrine Why must I hide, hide, hide? Bury me deep inside Eyes shut wide Let me sleep, pray the Lord my soul to keep Let my sorrows spread I am a sick, unearthly vine Why do I climb, climb, climb? Unravel me from your sides Just let me die My stomach shies These arent butterfies They are beasts that soar, but they're mine The pain it swallows me There are places you should not dive I am the honey inside the beehive So bitter, so sweet But am I really worth the time? You'll drink me alive You finally let me die Feeding off my enzymes
Read more