My Heart…

My Heart…

My heart is like fire with its flames surrounding the valves. Cooking my soul unto an object of manifestation.

Creating two entities: the body and the soul.

My heart is like fire for it burns after every sin, every heartbreak, every failure.

It burns to create energy for the continuation of its existence.

Ethos-credibility;

Pathos-emotion;

Logos-logic.

Journal Ten: A Free-write

Journal Ten: Unfiltered Free-write

I recommend everyone have a journal or diary that they can write their emotions and feelings in. Freewriting is just one style that allows one to write their emotions without being too critical of oneself. I find that when I over analyze myself I end up not writing anything worth remembering.

It helps to release inhibition and let thoughts flow. It helps to be mindful.

Bed pull the thrills legs come and chill red blood and guts don’t forget love remember love butt anal people create trauma to the soul as insanity flows pen mold creation of life sold to the world government owned cereal flake piece of cake Marilyn Monroe Charles Manson bill Kennedy Freddy Krueger spit a lugar at boot camp drill instructor recruiter tranced in boot her pants come foot her dudes bleed red in the head Afghanistan saves the den leg deadhead lost in dread space time continuum bed closing eyes cloud nine rhyming lines freestyle mind communication prime mental diamonds cut lungs trying to quit lying to my shits dying coughing brian crying lying dying from sighing writing till dying. dead.

Reynaldo Rivera Jr. (2009)

I wrote this free-write in 2009 when I was in the Marine Corps. I have a bunch of journals that I have been trying to write into a book, but I’ve been hypercritical in how I want it to look in the end, which in turn has made me put off completing all the entries. This is a little snippet of one journal entry; journal ten.

🧙

Mother Superior Shot the Gun.

Mother Superior Shot the Gun.

She pulled the trigger and let it run. In the veins it ran its course.

What can I do?

Pain has no remorse. Death is selfish, I can’t just go.

My family loves me, that I know. Doctor’s can’t help me, Medical or Medicare.

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I have given up hope; Not a care, not a care.

Despair, despair, this isn’t fair. I can’t cope, I send a prayer.

I pray to the Holy Trinity

All is One and One is All.

Should I live, should I die, who am I?

My mind plays trickery, it fed me lies.

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Where’s my mind, I cannot find the tranquility I had in memories past.

I know I can, I know I can, I know I can.

I can, indeed. I repeat, I can indeed.

For by my side you ought not, deep inside the stars at night, and in sunrise, you are all light.

With Love,

Hypodermic Mom mn Mother Nature

🌎

🧙‍♂️

Poverty, Probably, Constantly.

Poverty, Probably, Constantly.

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Poverty is not disease but a constant need.

Government cheese, bitch please, I got EBT.

Extra broke today, so i’ll stop by McDonalds for a parfait.

That’s all I can eat, but hey I call it “poverty buffet.”

Optimistic, crime implicit, convicted, explicit.

Explicative deletion, to save the children.

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I once was young, neglected, envision.

People leered, like I was a rabid animal.

So, I hid my veneers; Lecter, Hannibal.

Constantly at War; This is America.

Thousands die in poverty, constantly.

What are you doing about it?

Nothing, probably.

🧙

Free Write Whilst in the Classroom.

Free Write Whilst in the Classroom.

Boy i'm tired never got hired neither fired but deny it; i will not.

Got all my school supplies in stock ready to be on top with my grades and papers that shock in class.

I always watch the clock to see when class will finish line.

Bye, bye to my classmates hello to my homework days off I relax and just sit on my ass.

Maybe, make music or visit friends from the past.

As I free write I take a bite off of history.

Penicillin cures everything.

My paper on pharmaceutical companies and medical research got graded; too wordy.

When I get home i'm a order a slurpee…

More likely a coffee or vanilla ice cream.

Written in 2013.

🧙

A Conversation with Myself on How to Carry a Conversation with Another.

A Conversation with Myself on How to Carry a Conversation with Another.

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ME:

How do I talk good?

METOO:

The best way to talk good, is to not talk at all.

ME:

Oh… k. Um, what?

METOO:

The best way to talk good is to listen better. 

ME:

Oh… k. Wait, I’m still not sure I quite understand. So, you are saying that listening is the same as talking?

METOO:

Yes. By listening intuitively, you gain credibility, because the speaker speaks of themselves, and who knows about the speaker more, than the speaker? That’s right, No one.

ME:

Wow, that’s meta.

METOO:

See, when we look back at past conversations, we don’t always remember what was said, but instead remember how we felt when we said it. So, when someone talks about themselves, they’re talking of topics relevant to what interests them, so when they look back they’ll feel positive about the interaction.

ME:

That sounds so narcissistic.

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METOO:

And it kind of is, but we all have to like who we are. It’s kind of essential and apart of life; finding oneself, accepting oneself.

ME:

Namaste. Well, I guess then the question that arises is, how do I listen better?

METOO:

The best way to listen better, is by asking better questions.

ME:

How do I ask “better” questions if I know nothing about the other person?

METOO:

I’m sure you know something about the other person. We are always making observations of people we come across. It’s embedded in us as a part of our fight or flight response. We unconsciously judge whether the person is safe or dangerous, but danger doesn’t necessarily have to be physical. In today’s world it is more often than not psychological; like the fear of awkward silence.

ME:

METOO:

Anyway, we begin by making observations of those we want to approach, analyze their qualities, and find something about them that truly catches our interest. Qualities such as the clothing they are wearing, a common objective, or any relatable experience that comes to mind. Be genuine, and be humble. Here’s an example of a conversation between two people:

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MYBOB:

Nice shoes, where’d you get them?

MYJOB:

The mall.

MYBOB:

Oh yea? The one here on Broadway?

MYJOB:

No, but I like that one. The one on Sherman Oaks.

MYBOB:

I’ve heard good things about that place, and i’ve been meaning to go. Is it nice?

METOO:

And so on…

The key is to be genuine with your intrigue, and of course be humble in the process.

ME:

Okay, let me see if I understand what you’re saying. In order to prevent a conversation from going stagnant, you recommend listening, and the best way to listen is to ask questions with sincere intrigue. The best way to find interest is by making observations of the immediate moment. Observations, like what the person is wearing, a common objective, or anything that I might want to know.

METOO:

Yes! Now, you’re getting it. Everyone live’s their own path. Every person’s journey is unique, and we can grow together interdependently. Not one person will ever walk in your shoes, because as soon as you give them to another, they are no longer your shoes, but become their shoes. It’s a continuous effort to ensure we set aside our differences, and work together to understand what makes us different. The more we learn about each other, the more we realize we are the same, and the more accepting we become of our differences.

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ME:

Thank You. And, on an unrelated note, I must say that I think you’re a handsome, intelligent, caring, and important person in society.

METOO:

That’s so nice of you to say, but I’m nobody; really.

ME:

No, really. You are extremely good looking.

METOO:

I know.

ME:

Humble… Anyway, thank you and I love you.

METOO:

You are most welcome, and I love you too.

<3

🧙

Lov3.

Lov3.

All my life I think of you.

Never stayed no stops;

Lov3 runs right through.

Dangerous passion throbs 24/7.

My heart was robbed; Smith & Wesson.

From lov3 come’s murder; a subsidiary.

Alas, you killed innocence; seminary.

If lov3 is joy then what is sex?

A sin committed, but

Come in child now it's innocent.
 
1 + 1 = 3

Adolescent.

🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️🧙‍♂️

Veronica.

Veronica.

ONE OF EVERY. LOVE TOO MANY.

RED.

ONE IS PLENTY.

BED.

CONTEMPLATE JENNY.

REST.

HEAD STAY STEADY.

DEATH.

THOUGHTS TOO MANY.

GO WITH HIM. COME WITH ME.

HAPPY WAS JUST A FLING.

LOVE = THE DEATH OF ME.

BLOOD RED AS SHE CARVED HER LEG.

MY NAME IN FLESH, PERMANENT.

🧙🏽‍♂️

An Improv Piece, Pills, and No Cheeseburgers.

An Improv Piece, Pills, and No Cheeseburgers.

# Mar 6, 2019 at 8:49 PM I don’t understand some of this but I allow it to run.

The world is filled with life and the free write that I have is known as the thought process that allows you to continue to write and not stop as long as a thought goes through the brain the medulla oblongata will allow you to come up with creative primal instinctive revelations like the Bible has in it’s final chapter.

This technique that I am using was learned in a book I read a long time ago. I don’t remember the title but it has a guy who directed and acted in theatre for a long time and talks about masks and hypnotism and improvisation for the theatre. The point is to create a stream of thought on paper to create content with the point of preventing “writers block” but the world does not cope with depression without external reality.

Pills are consumed on a daily basis because it connects our internal with the external and the external solidity really is just atoms that came in and out of our internal but triggers the realization that we our in existence with others because we are the others. What we don’t do is what we do do, and yes I talk about poo poo. Waste is not doing anything and Presence is giving everything.

The trick though is that the solidity of the ingestion is only the realization of what is already inside of us. The pills don’t add to the chemicals that combust inside but simply give us the awareness of the chemicals that combust inside. We have all and we should know. Know, no. Know, Yes. Knowledge is power and power is energy and energy is light and light is life.

Filters can be limiting but they help with order because what you do not see is a stream, a wave, a continuous perplexity of the unknown clashing and crashing into infinite realities until the conscious decides to make it into existence. Thats when it becomes solid, a state of matter, an external bit of existence that follows the four dimensional apparatus that is our reality of existence. What of an ant? Does an ant have a conscience.

Does an ant decide what it believes to be right and wrong, or does it simply follow the electromagnetic fields that revolve through the atmosphere. Does it not have a free will? How about us? Do we have free will? Does the free will in us relate to the electric fields that is our brain. Does our brain trigger change in the electromagnetic field of waves that surround us. Does thought really have the power to change our fate, our environment, and in turn our reality?

You be the judge. Just like you always have done.

🧙🏽‍♂️