woodenshoeproject
The Wooden Shoe Project
A sanctuary for the playful expansion of thought and perspective; with the intention of chiseling away cultural conditioning and expanding personal reality.
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Just trust:
Sometimes I forget, and I think I’m in control
An anxiety arises that things are going to hurt
This feeling hangs around for a little while
Then I remember that all I need do is trust
The issues and anxiety seem to fade away
At least for a little while, until I forget again
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Ending:
A rising sense of distrust
Proven through apologetic action
Maybe it’s make believe
All in my head
But there is a seed of doubt
Enough for me to fall back
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Windup:
I fill up on emptiness
And disinterest arrises
Nothing inherently wrong
It is just all so routine
I add variety for its spice
To become familiar too soon
I fill up on emptiness again
Only for disinterest to return
Another endless cycle
Just something to accept
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A Archetypes Arrival:
In my mind I have hooves, and the legs of a goat
My torso is my own, but leaner and stronger
My head is my own, but with his long horns
My nails are my own, cut, but I feel his sharpness
And when I move, he does the same
And sometimes, when he moves, I do the same
It is getting hard to tell who is more real
Is it me imagining him, or him imagining me
There is a weight in my mind, a type of knowing
That when he arises there will be nothing left of me
And all that will remain is the timeless horned god
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Spontaneous:
The flowing water
A tree falls into the stream
Seamlessly engulfed
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Natural:
The beautiful moon
Resting among the heavens
Effortlessly shines
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Endless:
A light house with its bulb long burnt out
A chimney so clogged with sap it can’t billow
A young heart too early on its last beat
A general neglect left unchecked
Forgotten to decay, rot, and death
Everything will be destroyed
Only to begin again as a light
To find its way back to the same end
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The Solution:
Depression is anger turned inward
So I guess I hate the world
So fuck all of you
I hope you die right now
And whoever is left over
Maybe we can make up,
hug, and restart the world
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They call me:
Socially inept, but I’m only quiet
Whore, but I’m simply free
Retard, but I’m just trying my own way
Why can’t they call me something nice?
Maybe I speak quietly with my heart?
Maybe I let my love go where it desires?
Maybe I simply value my own experience?
Is it so bad that I follow my own path?
If you think so, then that is okay
Hate me for my choices
I will still love you
Stay protected in your judgments
And I will continue to be free
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When I disappear:
Vacant eyes see the leaves dance in the wind
Disinterested, the heart beats a quiet drum
Figures pass silently, a sense of nonexistence
Emptiness rests all around, nothing remains
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Unspoken words:
There is something here
Something that I cannot pin-point
But it exists none-the-less
And whatever it may be
It is something I will always cherish
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My Heart Is Sand:
You are a gift
A treasure
When you turn me away
I still love you
You teach me to open
To have compassion
To continue to love
Though I get shattered
I hurl myself into you again and again
Just for a moment
To taste it through another
To know that which is in me
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There is no place for fear, so trust, and go forward.
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Oceans Melody:
“All be good,” said the old man sitting on the tailgate of his truck with a bongo by his side. He was by the ocean, and he listened, but didn’t play. There was already so much music to be heard.
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Eternal, A Haiku:
It is in all things.
It is just behind the eyes.
Nameless in each breath.
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Eternal:
When we stop longing, she appears.
Behind the eyes of everyone we meet.
In each nameless breath she rests.
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Infinite Beloved:
I look into her blue marble eyes, lay her down, and see the ocean.
With a long twisted ladle I collect her waters and drink of her vastness.
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