h’woooosh

My mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind.

The curved air rolls with the force and speed of the images produced within my consciousness,

Third eye, dizzy –

Hitting all corners at least twice before realizing I’ve been spinning.

A grand, rotating revolution, spinning is the problem – and spinning is the solution!

Just endless spirals, lights of the night go round and round,

Images, viral, reaching right into my retinas as I recall the square frames

as I endlessly scroll down –

S

P

I

N

N

I

N

G

!

A regurgitation of recent memory, trains of thought criss-cross-crashing, flying off the rails,

airplanes flying, shooting my thoughts up high while spilling out white streaks of racing-thought chemtrails

SPINNING around, my point of view’s on ballerina style, just a Whirling Dervish,

morphing, contorting – an 18th century French poem, written in cursive – a lightly used, Hello Kitty themed furnace,

a concerned Greek chorus, singing, trying to warn us – a rebellious sect of spaghetti, bobbing and weaving away from a fork –

it’s, a natural force of the mind, subliminal– it keeps [spinning] it goes so fast, unpredictable,

Mind’s eye like a set of 24-inch Sprewell rims from 2003

a wheel within a wheel, a Mayan calendar of an experience

sPiNnNiNg I change channels in my head

From Tik-Tok clips to Cher’s greatest hits to random scenes from Eddie Murphy’s ‘Delirious’

I’m serious, just kaleido-scope into my third eye view, and see whatever comes to;

Mind you, at times its not intentional, the way it aligns, but,

nevertheless, I’m usually just a happy, little mess;

Rotating revolutions, all mixed with randomness,

Self-entertaining, that’s what my mind’s eye be like, fam;

If you catch me laughing to myself, no te apures I’m doing just fine!

I just paused on something funny I saw on my internal screens, and just had to hit re-wind. . .

Because, you see, my mind is always spinning.

I’m a fuckin’ whirlwind. – RSM

Bad Bitch, Part 2 (About Damn Time!)

It’s Bad Bitch, Part 2, she’s thick, curvy…

our first year’s on lock, wheels still turning…

another week away down on South Beach,

flashy, classy, sassy, she’s a damn Queen,

wearing all her hubbies’ sunglassies,

looking hotter, than the sunset now..

She’s been so down and under pressure

she’s way too fine to be this stressed, yeah

I’m used to her, and now she’s used to me…

So let’s grow together!

Turn up the music…let’s celebrate

It’s been a year now… a lot more on the way

Okay… alright… it’s about damn time!

In a minute, we’ll be chillin’,

tanning, drinking, margaritas, along the coast,

We’ll be grinning, reminiscing, a little kissing,

Beach babe with the matching Coach –

Admiring her nails, laying on the sand,

Gazing at the water with a drink in her hand,

the baddest bitch around, on water, air, land,

got everybody looking at her like ‘oh, damn!’

She’s been so down and under pressure

But she’s a Bad Bitch, there’s no question

She’s looking fine, no glasses needed to see…

It’s about damn time!

Turn up the music…let’s celebrate

You’re very welcome – happy anniversa-ray!

Okay… alright… it’s about damn time! – RSM ❤

Inspired by ‘About Damn Time’ by Lizzo

PLUR x Hydration <3

We’re all friends, and have a collective jump that shakes the tarmac beneath us,

girls on shoulders, kandi traded along sweaty wrists

as the bass permeates our skin, we feel it in our bones –

a wave of loud cheers erupts from stage to stage,

dozens of countries’ flags on display,

makeshift kandi masks donned as hundreds of shufflers scrape the floor with their sneakers,

a pounding of sound calls you from every direction.

Wavy, euphoric vibes, and dilated eyes all around

About 10 giant bananas are running around together

But the most beautiful thing are the water bottles being passed around.

Smiles, glistening bodies of all shapes, sizes, genders, colors, 100,000 faces

And when one falls, there are 10 to catch them,

We check in with our crew and pass the water bottles around –

We all vibe out, some like to smoke, and some won’t,

Some like to jump and scream, and some roll, and some don’t,

but everyone passes the water bottles around.

Some shuffle, some head bang at the front, some crowd surf,

some just sit back and kick back toward the back,

some throw up the peace sign and the duck face,

some are on the ‘gram, while their favorite DJ goes HAM,

taking snaps and videos and selfies with selfie sticks-

Some even start passionately kissing, or give sweaty, glitter-filled hugs

and rave hands, glow sticks, LED gloves dancing in the air,

some make new friends, and some stick to their tribe,

some are wearing next to nothing, some are dressed like batman;

and some are so lost in the music that they’re in their own zone…

and they’re all passing the water bottles around. – RSM

Conveyor Belt Woes

Run, walk, move, the conveyor belt keeps you going,

the travelator pushes us along until we’re pushing daisies;

to conform and put yourself last is to “be strong”

as we trudge along around the black an yellow tarred lines

while looking at our rectangular mind magnets, our attention – occupied,

worrying too much about these crazy times instead of the curvature of our spines.

Factory errors are laughed at, pointed out by the products

because to not be ‘in line’ is to be ‘out of order,’

how free are we if we still have to be like the bees

of a hive that work until our wings no longer flutter?

The puppet masters at the top reference a utopian time and place

that seems long gone, but never actually existed,

and the average Joe from yesteryear

would probably be more appalled than proud of how much

the oligarchs have chipped away from the working class –

basic needs are a privilege, our principles have been twisted.

People locked out of basic shelter are dying,

spikes installed to keep them off polished windows and away from old money limestone walls,

Instead of humans helping humans we have a space race exploding off the blocks,

top 10 money hoarders trying to be like “I’ma head out,” hopping from penthouse to cockpit,

Union-busting tech barons don’t mind leaving the earth sweltering, melted, and barren.

Jump off the conveyor belt – life is more than just numbers and industry –

we’re not just the products, we’re the power that electrifies this grand machine.

Look around, look toward the future, and don’t forget to remember suppressed history. – RSM

Plane-ing through Hindsight

Each moment we find ourselves at another crux – a six-way lane change that cluster bombs out into an infinite range –


Perpetual potential possibilities present powerful plans, possessing mis pensamientos,


Gathering speed while moving forward is the most logical direction, but this multi-dimensional intersection has me sometimes traveling through space-time, second-guessing;


With every new open door is the draft that slams the last one,
Shutting out the doubts and tribulations from yesteryear’s thick fog, and dark clouds.


We don’t look back that much, that’s why the rearview mirror is so small,
But at times we do look back again and see things a little differently, a perspective updated,

With these previous moments’ emotions expired – examining experiences end up expedited, prorated.


Taking off back to the now, elevation is the growth, and the speed is the effort, we’re the pilots of our own narratives –


Journée-ing toward a new day, and as our lives fly upward, forward, we can’t help but check our six
to see the airspace behind and below us where we used to be.


Forward is still the way to go, the brave steps we put our feet towards, even when we feel at a loss for words, we can’t let past what-ifs or regrets have us hesitate to smile with love upon the open skies ahead.


Hindsight is a weeping angel, a stampede that gets closer every time you look back at it, hoping to touch your mind and send you down your own pasts’ never-ending rabbit holes.


The pedestrians on each crux of your life’s choices can overrun your mind if you don’t use your right of way, right away;


Let each quantum intersection be part of the breeze you feel as you fly forward – let hindsight be a record of lessons learned, a pilot’s manual to guide you to a higher plane as you fly on. – RSM

An Ode to ‘Surface Pressure’

I, shoulder the loads until the day gets old, I’m sold

on the idea that good deeds are better than gold,

the surface pressure got me under it,

get the 5 donkeys off my back when the storms are straight thunderin’

I’m wondering who else relates to Luisa from Encanto,

squatting triple digits, 60-hours-a-week and damn, bro,

I’m holding it all up like a hydro-powered dam, so,

I dance it off, cycle it out, rhyme it down as I write this down-

David and Freddie said it best, I guess, folks,

Rest is just a luxury, and we’re all dead broke,

conditioned by society to hate to love ourselves

and pack donkeys on our back until our eyes twitch,

Capitalism is the pimp, and worker burnout is the main trick,

We have it so engrained that in order to hold grains

our bottom line has to show a gain for us to be worthy

Of just a few minutes when we can enjoy some fine wine

from the local Trader Joe’s and just vibe to John Coltrane.

But, under the surface, coin don’t define us, mane,

We forget how to breathe while pushing to succeed,

so, I take a page out of Luisa’s book and dance it out,

cuz creativity is the antidote that clears the clouds,

and, self-care is the activism of the masses now.

Resist the gas-lit guilt and take time for your health,

Find ways to not have productivity define oneself. – RSM

Under 2022’s First Full Moon

Uncertainty ravages the world’s seas, currently,

The currents are pulling back the curtain for the world to see,

The steering wheel – gripped by the white gloved hands of the few

Trying to steer things ‘their way,’ even if they run over you –

It seems like average person is bursting at the seams

And lawmakers are concerned with “Jewish Space Laser Beams”?!

The media distractions don’t want to lose traction

And the disease evolves, with no release or resolve,

The state of labor unions is strong, workers coming together

To eliminate the spectres and be our own protectors,

So it will be tonight, we banish what doesn’t serve us,

And keep moving straight ahead, don’t let the world swerve us. – RSM

Let ’em Know When The Party’s Over

I kinda want one of those sarcastic banners I’ve seen in a meme somewhere-

A string of gold letters that usually says something like

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY”

or

“CONGRATULATIONS”

but instead it says

“PLEASE LEAVE BY 9”

Yes. Perfect.

It’s been a cathartic, nostalgic space for my mind lately
as every turn of the year compels me to rewind and review
the last 365ish spins of the Earth –

As the cosmos rotate around our skies I recall
so many more Earth spins before,
when I was having ‘mind parties’ and heard knocks on the door –

All the homies came through with gifts and fun things,
some of them had horns on their heads, hoofs for feet, or huge, bat-like wings-

Badass mfs who like their music bumping, minds wavy, and their lettuce dank,
Stomping on the floor with me, getting the neighbors mad, making the whole hallway stank,
Music getting loud, ganja getting louder,
Bass vibrations emulating such a buzz that the friction made an old lady downstairs drop and spill her hot bowl of clam chowder,

Louder – my mind’s house got even crowded,

LOUDER – more otherworldly party animals found it,
LOUDER!! – I shared my location with my multiversal wild ones,
Passing all the fun around until 8:59, but,
Me and my demons go all the way back, jack,
So I’ve sat them down before and set some clear boundaries –

They know when it’s time to have fun and make scary sounds, but,
When I tell ’em it’s the last call, they know to turn it down, and
Get a broom and mop and clean up all the mess,
Cuz, there’s no point to partying if you don’t get any rest,
nothing to celebrate if you don’t work hard enough to pass your life’s tests.

I always liked the idea to “Treat death like a friend,” from Harry Potter the Deathly Hallows,

I have my own angle to add, though –

Have fun in life, party with your demons, but, let’ em know when the party’s over.

My winged, scary-looking friends know the deal –


The time has come to help me clean up this place and “Until next time,” I tell them, “It’s been real.” – RSM

Breathe Vol. 2

Been there and back but the panic attacks clap with the sound of deep thunder and return with the whiplash of a well-thrown boomerang,

Random and abrupt these emotions emerge, the flood’s surge suffocates, a work-stoppage in my mind and I’m unable to produce words

Energy sparks like a super saiyan transformation, but all the wild hair and screaming is on the inside,

‘Alive and well’ turns to a silent hell at the blink of an eye’s notice,

The day’s events’ recap just kindles the flames, stimulating the flight/fight response, my

Heart rate goes off the charts, looking just
like this poem, when you rotate your screen 90 degrees to the left –

Engaged in a battle with the heavy, inner winds, but I win all these bouts when I just follow the first letter of every line, and remember to breathe. – RSM

Recharge.

When each day ends we plug in our devices
and then we plug ourselves in, to our own screen-based vices –
Mind/body/spirit pacifiers, they almost feel required
as we take a break from our busy days and whatever else that transpired..


The ‘news’ is the same old and our eyes feel older
after so much exposure to bright lights and sudden motion,
It’s like a sunny, sandy beach, falling victim to erosion,
how our day-to-day is turning’to a sensory explosion..


The script is already so twisted, inverted,
that flipping it back seems a wee bit absurdist,
but what an idea it would be to just breathe, and relieve our five senses from digital screens. – RSM

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