“From the caverns of discovery we grow.”-Hart Heiden is quoting himself again. That’s because I write in third person, but I speak and identify myself in first-person. Prove me wrong. Prove me wrong, see? I wrote this poem down below too, but now things are picking up with a bit more spice and edge to it and of which I was not intending upon. “From the caverns of discovery we grow.”-R. H. Heiden
If I could captivate consciousness. I would find myself staying put. I forgot. I laid awake staring at the space where I had meant to place an “o” instead of, and back where it significantly mattered most and could have potentially changed the entire direction and structure of this literary construct. Certainly academia would regale how it doesn’t read like a poem at first, but the jinxes and when I got up and into it I continued writing incessantly to batter down the onslaught of comings and I found out that categorically the ice-cream I held stapled to its cone caught a new dimension as it splattered onto the macadam ground of the house flooring facing the heads of new platinum nails embedded into this colloidal mass of hardened protective shielding that smelled intensely like buckets of fresh, wet paint that no one should ever have to know of even exists. But then the scent of christened socks sewing streams of string-cheese hardboiled ammunition along a heartbeat of reckless machines that earnestly meant well to deliver dimples. But is this really it? An educated guess. Is this all there is? I wonder the consequence of formalities as run away fly-bye’s poke their heads blind-side out of opened car-windows for sky-divers and vagabond hotel-drifters who have no need for a term like, “crisp.”
The power is in the mind I say. A reminder of which some offer I planted out in order to seed out Johnny Apple infestations. It was me. I am this, was this, always will be this. I don’t notice any real changes. I agree my face has gone soggy and crucial sharp-points of focalized balancing-beams rest upon judgmental eyes and perfection is always stolen off the backs of the wise. I want to be remembered for something historically redeeming and significant toward humanity. I knew I deserve this. But could I trust? I took a habitual co-dependent stance. There in bed with the flooring my new tennis shoes brought shifting cornerstones alongside incomplete freeways of sporadically unhinged contingency plans; and my face? My face now scattered forward. There was nothing to breathe in but back-stretched wavelengths of democracy that held tightly against the shelves that dissipated with their foundation of conditional paraphrasing. You saw that movie, right? Yes. I know corridors. I know alleyways and metal fences. I will keep you away from my secrets as best I can I promise you. Wavelength you. You won’t find anything here, but pickle-bread. I know you would. I witnessed everything shooting and pouring suddenly and I took it upon myself to keep my mouth shut. Quiet fishes never get caught. Consequences I don’t often relate to that well and it has become readily apparent that I should be more upset like concubines refusing the Almighty. They already got claimed by the kid. But I have none. There’s no one to shine their reflection, but me. Don’t subjugate the service connector and spiritual protector or provider of well lit up looks, and commonplace reading books while ornate chandeliers hang from ceilings spread out, but fall far from candlelight as storms fit up for shambles. Give them all collarbones of greed-covered cellophane and prevent them from being capable of sight. The wickedness of idolatry that shakes out all of the intricately tinged, neglected cumbersome pennies that have protected their unique take on green. Spread them all out to where avalanches disseminate populations of code-collared lemmings. Try to follow you out on tip-toe, but I think of wherever I am going because I honestly feel like I lost you back there like ten minutes ago, homie. Just send me the bill. I’ll Venmo it to you yesterday or something. Don’t worry I’ll take care of you.
The two dollar holler might be viewed as too shrill, but that might also be considered a miscommunication of what a buck really means. Now worries me. But let’s all go over them just in case we forget about what to concern ourselves about. Here: see if this was the forest you were building from trouble as the result of our avalanche of discrepancies. Then maybe I could divert your attention toward the inconclusive stockpile of evidence that they claim to have stacked up against you. I won’t get too personal. I mean? I’m not going to call you out, or go through your DM’s, but see if you can gravitate to the idea that there’s no pressure for me. I’m in a big hurry, but I won’t ever rush. Just no that the outcome is entirely dependent upon whether or not you can comply to meet all of our expectations. You were placed out here for a reason. It hurts me to think you would consider it as someone else’s reason. But if you do blend—and you do find out the exchange is completely tempered and catered to your vision? I would argue that the level of support you would bring in that landscape would become crucial. There’s no real rationale, but think about it: voices can’t follow themselves down hallways if they can’t connect the paradigm shifts over to various cultures or dogmatic frequencies enslaved by humidifiers in Summertime. You know this. No one is getting caught wearing worn out checkered blazers. That’s not it. They don’t call me any more because I call them all takers. Believe me they’re fakers. But Really though I need to fantasize about a project to recollect and reconnect the dits between all the conversation we were having in the beginning. For the life of me I could’ve sworn that you said you would be there for me until the very end, but you weren’t. You never were. Where I held down the fortnight’s and you let me play pretend and so now I’m the one who’s drifting. Monolithic monocultures of cotyledons careening through bee hive’s honey pot with exact, longitudinal accuracy. Latitudinally we might get objections, but this leveraged scale flew up the winning. It didn’t matter how tortured chambers laid preliminary dangers and excavating conduct, provided retired forest rangers. Missionaries fall back, but are known to promote the I don’t get the sequencing through the barrel of a gun. I don’t comprehend whatever he’s trying to do—if this is the new you or just another blue clue? Acting out occasionally along borderline psychosis and if you’d be only so willing to hang in there just a little while longer, you might’ve caught your big break. It would’ve happened for you. Believe. Make no mistake. Won’t no one know your story son lest you do something about it. Share it with the world and be honest don’t be scared if they compare it. Make your mark steadily before prophecy’s rendezvous with walls. Nobody ever told you you were a star so don’t make calls. Worried warts on charlatans darts synthesize rodeo roundup conquest clips while penetrating the sunshine’s force field rays and also rises up as consistently as you awaken to echo out your captivating smile. I’m congested and I am conclusive. I don’t really want to talk about it and who we surrounded ourselves with but I beg for your forgiveness and idle support. Situations like this one comfort me. They keep me awake and aware. I seize this day and hold it captive. May it never happen again thatI miss out on another gentle moment. Apathy no longer conflicts with my mental entanglements of phrases. I lied. Back when I first caught a glimpse of your face I damn near cried. I held it all in inside behind my pride and expectation. I had to put myself first and recognize that I held massive permutations. Caustic classes glistened glimmering hopelessly while vanity held strongly to the trees. Massive annihilations of manipulative trunks brought fortresses to formulate their own identities with truths and not opinions. That to trust nothing meant to swing from the highest limbs. The Spring equinox transforms cosmic rays not sings while manifesting curses hold volatile nurses clinging to perceptive bows along the starboard ends of their respective futuristic fibrous friends. Renditions collide upon countless memories of occasions all posing for a cameo shot on top of stages flapping their waves through currents. And all the while The tide rolls in. And blessings that they have demonstrated their fitness within. come about but changed now and I am now here and here is where I now am. I am now in this moment my friends of wholeness, health, clarity, courage and calm. I soak into leaders. Crowning the victors of creation and never the cheaters. But now is a presence that slips through ferocious trees and grows by forever altered by presence and never to return again. I do commit my life to pretend. A bit all-too often. I will deliberately offer—there’s no questions coming over castaways careening from my friend. We all want answers. Can you tell me what this is all about? Seriously? If I can reach down into my pant’s pocket and pull out new vertical vicissitudes then I can repeatedly produce the sequence then I have done it. I have figured it out. Penguins don’t flock to the Arctic because of Polar Bears. They stay in the south because their accustomed to how their water swirls them around. Charge across the outcomes. The frequency of growth. The preeminence of light. My customary corollary explanation involves copper pipes, but this one’s winning found ones. The litmus test to float is altogether hairy. I engage in life listlessly and unfettered by timing’s harassing reminder that I’m never there when I’m supposed to be. Now what if I focus frequently? What if I vibe new life fundamentally at the beginning of the end of some sane eternal time. The trees listened. The hierarchical nodules of preferential spacing. It is already here within us and it always has been. They will never tell you this in elementary school. But could you consider how this experience might shuffle if it did?
