The Progression Concept

With your hands, remove our scales

And bleed our developed failings.

Slip the vein.

With your philosophy, delete ourselves.

For we’ve come to understand

And have reached the outer edge.

There is no room for you here.

From the doors we may have opened,

Twist the plans

And cut the arm from the evil one.

Selah

We were yours originally.

Of personality suppression,

May we reach out of order to you?

From how we’ve defined you,

Can we still find you?

As Children of the Fellowship,

Are our brains erased of you?

Haven’t you proved to be far above our education literation events and blueprints?

And what, exactly, is passed the programmed?

I feel the universe decrease

And wind like the peak of an acid trip

Inside the beginning of me.

“Break down into composite parts and solve them” (plagerized)

The center,

From which my appendages reach out in every direction

Hears the voice they claim.

It’s resonated in this tiny chamber.

Smaller than the smallest,

It becomes a nothing,

Which houses the entirety of eternity.

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I only know you as a human

But even I, as human, recognize the center.

And within THAT

You speak.

Formless.

Not related to shifting shape as we are,

You are our original.

And to deny the ascension of the spirit

Is to deny the cartoon X’s in my fish’s eyes.

Hillary

150-007-5351

The spirit.

One who has always known you…

Love, we are related.

Like bloodline.

We are married.

I’ve been the spill of your sweat,

The dust,

In which you have sculpted artistically.

I am able to speak of you,

Reject you,

Perfectly able to hate you but I love you.

Those unworthy of understanding are allowed,

And We the People are nothing

Rewind

To our greatest wisdom.

Blasphemy when regarded as fact.

Daily we wrap our thoughts around divinity

And cut your entity like paper snowflakes.

The truth I’ve known I’ve always known.

It cannot however, be hastened,

Housed in glass jars,

Cannot be leashed or released on film

(well, sometimes on film)

It needs no means direction or conclusion,

Like the linier horizon that divides our soul from mind.

It needs nothing.

It is the I AM

Omnipresence and omnipotence are it’s right and left.

It occupies all space and all time,

Invisible improvable

Perfect matter,

Despite our human consumption and dirty little fingernails.

I’ve heard the music that a single person can generate,

Who’s reed translates,

And three sided corners vibrate.

As I gather in labor public cults circles and quarters,

As I debate with the teams of men,

With assertion in left pocket by closing my mouth like a casket,

Nothing becomes my queen and opinion my enemy.

The universe is rewinding.

The universe is rewinding into the center in me.

This is where you speak…

©2008 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved

It’s easy in creative 18, social skin intelligent contact.

Extroverted arms and eyes that stretch across rooms

and a center that hypnotizes the favor.

Pulls you in like heat

sshhh, the teeth release.

Sweet steps on memory bricks,

cold. drunk.

Mouth is loose,

was half smile cocked when my eyes met that crush…

It was easy…it was aggressive game,

symmetrical balance sober.

It was. Eye contact,

impact impression recycle full circle.

An addendum to old steps,

it was a tribute to renewing youth kingdoms,

as boi sees little prophecies in every situation.

Able to mulligan.

Chop measure to 32 bits. Young lungs screaming chamber.

There are poems pending…(waiting) to be reincarnated digitally.

(to) be published internet public,

 because I believe in well planned word recordings.

You and you and you and you may enjoi the complements.

May be a reservoir for things born of ears and eyes.

You may let the center format find your enter,

if you believe in keys and acronyms.

If you journey and have a legend and a map.

And pockets for deposits.

We believe in you.

Look for our love letters.

A gift is a visible sign of love (plagiarized) ÓÒä

Presence is presented, belt loosened posture corrected.

From metal cables to muscle and flesh, visible tracks of blood in arms,

windows of color universe allure,

Like heaven.

Top middle left right center, kiss…kiss…

bless our palms and extended fingers, passion.

  We call for beauty like rain

and have created dances to lengthen out bodies.

Chins are lifted, bodies lifted.

There is a call for artists and from this rock-

-water cums cold.

Look for the languages.

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Ó2008 Jonathan DeLucia, all rights reserved