Is it the Mind …..Who

Times in 2023

Is it the Mind …..Who


Tell’s the body.


Or is it, just …

The body ….



stops listening ……?

Giajl © Jim Love  

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No regrets and no concerns
For the talks all around
Internal pride boosts
A million times more,
Then the criticizing words
Reached the ears
As pots and pans.
A choice made
After great labor of
Food for thought
Yet the move,
Fringe benefits might not be good
Still no regrets and no concerns.
A game of life worth playing
Read and realized 
As each setback
Found heavy on the heart.
Though, humble beginnings taught these all,
the fleshy body wouldn’t keep quiet.
It is good time right time to retrieve self
Let the rustic mind be
Stay hunger and stay foolish.

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state of mind//world of body


and then there are the days

that are no more than impossible

they feel like something the world wrote down for me

as an outline or a moral

I should treat them as experiments-

if I can write this word I’ve made my own day

if I can make this doorway I’m coming home


wrestling with my mind as if

it is the one that belongs to me

I can almost hear the laughter

silly little girl

she thinks she knows what she’s doing

she thinks she knows who she is

and that autonomy isn’t a rope

I will rip out of her hands

as the seconds slip by

and she realizes how wrong this is going


I still miss you as much as I miss who I could have been

I know there has to be a state of mind


like when I stop moving and my body


a place I can’t feel this


there are the days

I have a mind that is taken over by these arms this heart this monster of a skin

sex with you is deliberate

a pattern we pick out

and is it too much to ask

to not want to know you’ll want me tomorrow

so it can come as a surprise

so something strikes deep in my chest

when you walk this way

and I don’t have to call it regret


I don’t think I know the way to make someone want

and I keep losing the way with you

leaving pebbles and pepper and heartache every place I think I should kiss

letting my eyes wander and losing my center of balance

I leave already in lust with you

I have all of the burning but none of the rules

no compass for this world of body


I want to be someone’s bright and someone’s story

I reach out to every hand and dust slips through my fingers

I don’t think I know the way to separate my mind from what holds it

to carry myself the right way and still carry these thoughts

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 6/26/21

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The Seed

in what dark recesses of torture remain

exists a dreaded seed for us to obtain

to keep us sane and deliver us from evil

so goes the creed of an everlasting people


unending doubt resonates to be

impermanance rooted in an everlasting dream

scarcity of hope glimmering in dusk

prevention of fortune in a world of luck


forever told from stories past

eerily reminiscent of perpetual task

systems of new destroyed wisdom once known

for all apart of a world unsown


grimmace and malice plagued once more

in dire times that conjured vile scorn

but it was hope that was given once last chance

now grows a tree from the seed of our past

Emotional Ocean


There in front of me


With no way around

It hits me

Waves of pain and devotion

It's an emotional ocean.


There's a sanctuary outside of my mind

But my mind had me confined

Inside of this rhyme

Running out of time

To find

This peace that I must've left behind.

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The Art of Writing...

The Art of Writing



Humanity's engraved history,
on the tips of our fingers,
on the tip of the mind

It's a beautiful art, isn't it?
How someone's soul,
Is expressed with a language
The art of writing

Of course, I do not
I do not limit
Limit to words...

Body language is the writing of the body
Music is the writing to decorate time
Facial Expression is the art of writing and interpreting...from the crust of a soul
Speech writes the base of language

Writing is not what you just think it is
It. Is. Pure. Art.


Now reading back on this poem, I have found my reason to write.


This thing called Writing. It's woven into our nature. As stated above, I consider things such as body language, facial expression, and music as "writing". 


 It's our own mind that limits us. Writing is not limited to words. After all, it is a way to express. Our ability to express is already woven in us from birth (for instance, when we cry, we express from the wails written, by our voice, in the air)...


And maybe I am mistaken...


When you kick when you were in your mother's womb, you may definitely express and inform something hehe...


 So really, it's my nature...our nature...to write.


Don't let yourself be the one who limits your potential! - SachikoMochiko :)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just another quick poem...

Based on Jonathan Chiu's post: "5 Reasons you should write"

See it here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/youngteenwriterz/1982150/#comments


Haqueian Verse


So complicated,

Yet so simple,

So mysterious I,



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Bag Babies


I was seated in a car,

but we weren’t driving.

Mysterious man with me,

Alhireth-Hotep; I suspect Thee.


Bags were on the road,

Babies popped out.

Yes, my mind is weird

but it makes me proud.


I stepped out of the car,

this I had to see!

But a black man with a gun,

was halting me.


I tried to ignore at best,

I had to take the babies

away from this evil man,

and I looked at the bag;

another popped out!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

(A dream I had).


Traversing the worst terrain
the crust is veined and stained
by the binary brain system,
but I see some distant twisted vistas
colored by crystals,
covered by mystic thistles
with little meteor missiles 
hitting the moons above,
I was in love…
Sad that I 
had this iridescent
event of bliss broken
by the splatter of the Hatter’s 
Mercury Flurries 
upon grey matter,
now the circuitry is in disarray 
and I’m flattered by the way 
you hate me.

Tirelessly Training
maintaining my whole grain insanity,
my humanity,
I’m positive that the cause of it
is this Pearlescent Pear Wine,
it’s the definition of divine.
Please remedy, sit steady,
so ready to recline
and read some lines
to the fading

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'll never get the chance to travel into outer space, but at least we'll always have a deep inner one. ~ Carmello Yello [Alex]