Poets are complex

Whether you know me or not, I’m passionate enough. I’m sure at some point you’d stop reading my words and make room for the emotions you’ll soon start to feel instead. I’m not here just like a book in the library, I’m not your mental thoughts either…….. Mmh what about, (Heart, traeh, arthe, earth, aerth, harte.) I’m all of those, one word, different ways, different sounds. Profound isn’t it? I’ll make this world go round without even touching a button.

If you haven’t caught on yet, I’m like the heart. It feels and displays everything, punny my writing just so happens to do all that too. So, have you felt any emotions yet? Or are these words still just “words”?..

– Oakley

Beauty and Beyond

Believing in something you cannot pick up with your five senses that was never intended to be picked up with those senses anyways.. That’s just the beginning beauty of God. You have to choose to go beyond what you know, what you feel, what you see, what you understand. You have to choose to trust in every situation, you have to choose to believe in every situation, you have to choose to keep going in every situation. No wonder your five senses weren’t intended to pick up things such as those, because they’ll just get in the way.

When you notice beauty it goes beyond what you know right? It goes beyond what you feel right? It goes beyond what you understand right? Nothing gets in the way right? Well in moments where beauty goes beyond you cannot say there is no such thing as a God, because what you just experienced is who he is. Beyond the senses, using any of them to try and understand this would just get in the way. That’s beauty, beyond what you’ll ever know.

– Oakley

Love Language

What is physical touch compared to the words that touch the heart, sinking in through the skin kissing the scars. Allowing intimacy to wrap itself layer after layer leaving my brain naked with nothing to hide, I’m vulnerable with every thought.

The world as we PROUDLY know it

If an accumulation of material possessions equals a sense of understanding, in which the world makes it seem, will you still have that same understanding knowing that those same things are changeable with no guarantee in the fine print no matter how hard and long you work for them? Or do we falling into pieces like our lives are instantly over and on comes the depression and the fear and the worry and of course we cannot forget the anxiety… but I thought we had an understanding.. So what’s understanding really? Changeable or the unchangeable… mmh
Continue reading “The world as we PROUDLY know it”

Touching Hearts Like I’m the Fingerprints left behind¬†

There is change in my throat soaking up my vocal cords. So when I open my mouth and speak, expect my voice to touch you. I’m vicious like 100 degree weather trapped in a house with no air conditioning. I’m sincere like rose petals on the floor of a romantic getaway. I’m alive like a newborn baby’s first breath. I mean business like I’m the CEO and the world is my office. Award me life because I’m training for it like an Olympic athlete. Converting a new craftsmanship wrapping my passion around people like I’m their mother or something. Expressing love like I’m the one who placed hearts inside each person. Standing in the gaps like I’ll create an earthquake if I move. 
Poetry I’m a poet people. I feel words like you need air in your lungs to breathe. I articulate like I have a rule book of exactly what to say. I’ll change your life like a tragic phone call then help you put things together like a funeral. I’ll leave you in awe like you thought I was trying or something, a natural disaster. A primary cause. An individual coming against my flaws. Speaking like I’ve tapped into unlimited resources, how then could I not be of help? My thoughts are like the news broadcasts, I need everyone to hear. My favorite public service announcement. Embracing change like I created the word. Touching hearts like I’m the fingerprints that are left behind… I’m here for you like your eyes giving you the ability to see, like your mind giving you the words to speak, like your stomach crying for food to eat, like your heart beats, like your flesh seeks.


Could it be your bored because your not doing what your suppose to? How can you not find excitement in a heart that’s filled and going after what it’s suppose to?