Right Just.

Standard

High flying
Disc
I’m out of this
World
Jewel welded to forehead
Fooled only for a moment into believing other eyes
Otherwise, the first to perceive is me
We see differently
Conceived energy, being drummed
Dulled
Until sound reverberates and shakes
The ground
I walk on cloud nine thousand; island
Dressing steps in a belief, a leaf or two will complete the mood
To be in tune to a salad
I’m having experiences to keep anew
A nerd
Inert to nerve for a few seconds
Then strengthened the second I forget
Get words
Get wind of effort
Less given
Disturbed by nothing, because I’m hovering
Divine plan
Something in the way I feel
I am

– G. Arthur ©2015

Go Down the Rabbit Hole: A Writer’s Manifesto

Standard

Writing for Digital Media

1. You are the work. The work is you: both an articulation of the self and a possibility for self-reflection. Be honest in creation: allow yourself to bleed into the work, but also allow it to work on you. Your work can show you things: illuminate and clarify your own thoughts, motivations, actions. If you do it right, you will find the work changing you, too.

2. Thinking is process. Laying on the floor. Sitting on park benches. Getting lost on purpose. These are all working. Learn the difference between mindless distraction and mindful wandering.

3. Go down the rabbit hole. Sometimes the work isn’t about what you think it is. Allow yourself to get lost down alleyways, to follow a train of thought around a corner. Don’t feel you need to reign yourself in. Too much focus squeezes all the possibility for revelation out of the work.

4. Fear…

View original post 290 more words

Is This How You Wish to Spend Your Life?

Standard

Seconds
Passing
Mourning
Or is it daylight?
Evolution is in new movement
Faster
Ask for the strength
You’ve leapt before
Why slink?
Are you slumped?
Don’t slouch
What is up?
No doubts
We soar outside the sores that sort of put us in disproportionate rapports
With ourselves
Distort the realm of reality
Accord
A chore to clean up yours
From source
Ease up
Endure
Anything impure, release
Jump
See but the possibility of a seashore
Be more
Quantum physics is specific in the written with giving scientific legitimacy to the feeling of frequency
Intimately intricate
Detailing a skip in beat
Rhythmically
Innate
In 8 we realize at a horizontal a lot goes into infinity
No forcing what Eye know
Simply for the reason I don’t
Resistance is an addiction and I’m kicking the habit
Rascally
Rabid
Grabbing carrots
Fiscally increasing my carriage
Visibly arid in having a lifestyle that’s married to 9-5
In the feat of being a chariot for an aggregate of garrisons fighting for underdogs
Uh! I mean champions
Why can we win, because I said so
A stream of consciousness is as unconscious as blood flow that I roll off the tip of my tongue that can kick in a gun at the speed of a whirlwind
I don’t put periods at the end of the sentences for a reason, it’ll make the world end

– G. Arthur ©2015

Came and gone.

Standard

Location
Free
No place to be
See everywhere
Is
Here
Soul’s station
Stairs
Walking away
From day-to-day
Today is tomorrow
On borrowed time
I’m not
I’ve got all of it, in the world
Convergence
Resurface
Surface
To air
And depth
Neither exist
Only this
Exquisiteness
exodus
And so dust, just another realm
Overwhelmed, we’re aren’t
There’s art
Black
Fade to
Play
Rules exchanged can change
Tools to a plane
Remove the ruse that explains
To wane
We wax
Remain as facts
Relaxed into a state that act; impact
Truth is a lane, we have
Let’s go
We never held to anything
What is there to let go?
Only the mind said so
Locate both space and time
Can you?
Then you enter and exit an old venue
New
Don’t relate
Just take
Taste once
Taste from the waves and wade
Good day.

– G. Arthur ©2015

💔

Standard

Admitting it hurts
And this is the work
Shifting in an indescribable swirl
Extracting psychobabble
Battling pearl
Haven’t the gall to go after the girl
Since after all, it wouldn’t matter
She reverses and curses me
How it feels
Defeat
Unique to dual beats
Rhythm of a walk down memory lane
Then at a page, burning each letter
Getting insane only to gain my sanity
After leaps and bounds
I seem to drown the antidote in handy streaks
Strokes are different
Living
Intimate to this ephemeral tussle
Touch to ends
Ours and suffering
Only to go into morning and adorn the notion it was nothing…

G. Arthur ©2014

Well Being.

Standard

Mortar or mortal
Martyr in modern day
Sacrificing blood stain and reindeer games
Red nose
Crying
Sniffling
Whiff of a rose
Thorn in my back
Inhaling
From a lack of air and sensitivity
To sinuses
Suffering
From the scent
Of a love
Must I release?
Sick of wondering
Bumbling sneeze
Humming with bees
It’s easier some tomorrows more than others
Humble
Gratitude is an altitude
To escape this cavern
Have her in chasmic memory
Indefinitely
Marrow makes for better tool
Used in order to write a tally
Rather than stories of forlorn relationships
With twin flames that melt mirrors
If each brick was a reflection
Would it be crimson?
Kissing you goodbye
Beautiful sight
Siren at depths I haven’t been in a while
Swept perimeter for stench
Rotten corpse, more so remorse
For the today I say…

… Dying again

At the tip of a tongue
Confused whether this be tear or condensation

Confirmation that gardens aren’t hard to witness when in this conflict

Flicker

Glimmer of hope
Slip from a hole
Opposite ends
Looking up isn’t current location
Escaping the bottom
Dropping in a penny
Any sign of echo location

Maybe resonance can break the silence of why I didn’t climb out earlier

Hello, pearly world
This is your resident extraterrestrial dressed in only one regret

Flowers to flesh
Human to speck

Couldn’t forget

Deliberate meditation
Wood in his breath

– G. Arthur ©2014

Black Widow.

Standard

Spidey senses
Senseless violence
Rather violets and violins
Vying for vibrant

Admiring those with Fallopian
Noble kin
Gold pins holding hymn
Sing about midnight

Coloring eyes with pride
Instead, steadily set it aside
Cry
Cry

Inside is divine design
In time
Pulling from mine
Emerald cut

Several rush and develop a crutch
Plethora of “never enough”
Pace
Haste wastes propellors

In touch
Feminine trine
Venus to Mercury
Certainly this web will have lead to a third of the circular thread

Ma’at…
… Jesus?
See which being is closer to evening
She is

– G. Arthur ©2014