TRUE KING

I felt you in the sea

I held you in the wet sand

As you washed up behind Me

I looked off into an orange sunset

You smiled back at me

And I knew you were My truth

You were My spiritual reciprocity

As of now

You are my lesson

My blessing

My spiritual King

No one else could touch your strength

No human can dethrone your Royalty

You are my maker

My demon

My angel

My eternity

Phoenix (Keota Picou)

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Moon phases

Strong vibes resonating

Between the brick and trees

Melodies married as one

The Den connected friends

Spirits on a whim

5 6 7 8 and then

A pact was born

Smiles laughter and passion

Beyond labels and judgements

Human

Phoenix in the South (Keota)

I’d go further but…

There is beauty in it. Knowledge gained from words on paper. And from the steps in life. Experiences. Pain and pleasure are just the extremes of one another. Growth, sometimes, can be scary. And some are afraid to acknowledge this fear. Just fall high. Healing and growth, What an intense transition. But it is necessary.

Our closest and most magnanimous Star, The Sun. What an answer to receive. What blessings one brings. Oh how my soul sings. I Am grateful.

I love you World.

Phoenix

No

I should finish dinner

Let me end this poem

Life is hard to get

Humans ride this road

Truth is ego’s heel

Lies are friends unknown

Scholars teach a lesson

Which professors ignore

Ignorance learns from maps

Soldiers march their route

Dirt is a cleanser gifted by Earth

Each human holds a secret

Only the strong are bold

If you throw a rock

You’ll surely die by the stone

Phoenix

Written by Keota D Picou

photo source

Magnanimous

So quick to hold me

It must be more of

A destiny

The lesson was colder

The sex was more of

An epiphany

Too strong to go there

So wise

It’s clear air

So deep

It delivered me

My soul orgasmed

My mind said Oh yeah

My heart reached its peak

Le petite morte

It riddled me

Words spoken in fragility

Time stops when you speak your peace

I hold your horns

As I sing

(Phoenix)

Written by Keota D Picou

Sunlight from the East

This Sunset is the best

And the surrounding is a

Peripheral state

Not rose colored nor blue

Transparent intentions

Unseen ways

It’s a matter of Life

But all that matters is who’s wrong

The Morning Light taught

That all those things

Were nothing at all

It is a strength of imagination

The openness of true humanity

I drank from a bowl in the river

As the light shined upon me

Human nature can’t take you

It just is

We are us

Check a list of imperfections

Make sure to write a dream on it

The sunset is the best over an ocean

The sunrise maybe best over a hill

(Phoenix)

Written by Keota D Picou

M.I.A.

I went quite some time without posting a poem (before my most recent post.) This is why. Usually I capture everything. But during this trip I hardly captured a thing with my camera. I just wanted to soak it all in.

What made it so amazing, was sitting on the grand canyon with my friend and not checking my cellular device. I only captured the places that I experienced twice. Whether you’re religious or not, (I’m not. Not quite.) I felt “blessed.” I knew my debts were paid. And I laid within Earth to connect. As I’ve never done before. As a child, I traveled over seas. And I connected. But never have I felt a bond so deep as I have felt recently.

It was mother to mother. In the ether. It was still. No brainstorming. No writing. I should mention now, that the reason I often over rhyme is because writing helps me to calm my thoughts and organize them. So my mind relates rhyming to organization. Which I actually disagree with. But like any human being, I contradicted myself. Have you ever felt that your heart and mind were debating? As if they were two separate people?

They, my heart and mind, were on the same page on that point of the map. Some humans think that because they’re mostly correct, that they’re not wrong in any way. Others feel they are always wrong, and afraid to be correct. Others don’t want to read the book in it’s entirety because it’s safer to read one selected paragraph or even the summary. Some believe only what’s important to them. And narcissists only believe what they feel from the fiction that their mind creates.

But in the middle of nothingness lives an overflow of something. Everything I already knew was discovered there. I earned that gift. I gave myself a hard pill to swallow. And it was the medicine that I needed.