I Accept Myself

I have a desire to do things then I just flake out on myself. Like am I a self-saboteur, or am I just going with the natural flow of my heart? How does one ever know the answer to these things? Should I even allow such thoughts to weigh heavy upon my soul? Life is good and that is a fact. Even if you are living in a war zone. Which I am not but even if. Life is still good because you have existence. You are thriving. I am thriving and this is a dream and a blessing. Every moment in life is an opportunity to make a dream come true or to create something. That has to be what it is all about. Making the thoughts in your head some sort of reality. So even if this morning I have flaked out on my own plan. Maybe I have not. Maybe there is some other dream that must be made manifest. I can sing. I have my voice. I want to sing out loud and project into my strange destiny. Maybe not this morning as I have planned but maybe today as I have dreamed. 

So much this or that but not too much confusion really. I had a dream last night about many things but I know now it was about my sexuality. Or my sexual freedom. It was very beautiful and telling. I am quite a strange and beautiful creature. I would like any of this to make sense. But I am a bit sleepy and even more crampy so it will lay where it lays on the spectrum. The real point of all this is...My voice shall be lifted and I shall fulfill my own destiny. The one created in God's eyes and the one created in my dear dreams. I regret the things I have not done. But why? Because I have heard of regret and think it is real or because I feel I have missed something? I can never really miss anything. All that I desire is mine or walking in my direction. All that I am is here within me. Nothing is ever missed or forgotten. I am a dream come true. The choices I make are always the right ones. Today is that day. I can feel the light shinning on me even now as I lie here creating these words. I understand myself. All is well. As it has been forever...

I am Josalisa...and this is a RiOt of understanding. 

A Poem Of Unanswered Questioned & Stupid Concerns

you wanna know what makes me write

other writers

 not the readers

readers will read anything

I've even read the back of the air freshener container

reading is a distraction

some sort of addiction

to the passing of time

but writing is the great work

or so it feels 

in reality for me 

it is the great madness

turning white black to feel something may have been accomplished

my garlic for the people who believe they are vampires 

wheater they are vampires are not is no real reason to not avoid them

some people think they are vampires and just behave that way

I blame all the really boring mainstream literature out there 

that romanticize fantasy

we are all so easily influenced

out of boredom I hope

but really what if we are all just really dumb as hell

subject to the whims of any writer with a platform

we program reality after all

our own reality but the lazy can be lead in any direction we choose

that makes me sad and now I feel lonely

we speak our own lives into being 

as well as lead the dumb

what a burden

and what of the ones who surround me

are they even real of just one of my own constructs

that is why they call...the bored and the dumb

to have me remind them that they are still alive like me

yet I don't really believe that anymore

I am alive and they are all dead

until you create something in this world you are dead

being lead by the creators

that is the separation I feel

I make shit and say shit

and the others do shit with that shit

I call them les frimeurs

but that is wrong

they are les acteurs

always auditioning for some play they are destined to star in

writen by creators who feel words

and live in the land of imagination

words are real and they make people dance

but really so what

what can it all really mean anyway

today people died and I am still alive

that is all I can really see as reality

people died and I did not

so I am thankful because I can be

that is all

I am Angelisa Joalisa...and this is a RiOt.

For You Who May Understand

All of this can never be said

it can never even be shown

yet I attempt to shine light onto my aliveness

onto my survival

each idea is not really an idea at all

it is more like a thing I have survived

I do not write the words 

I survive them

live to write another day

sometimes just another line

existence is a gift and a struggle

for the ones like me who over-think

we over-think reality

over-think the dreams

could it have more meaning than this

is there something else left to say to know to live

each word is like a breathe

but I'm not sure I want to breath it

yet I have to

digital words do not stain like ink

poetry written in ink leaves a mark on your hands

these digital words leave only a mark on your soul

an already beat up soul I carry

yet the words flow

like water like an old friend who died long ago

a lonely poet who said it all and got paid

but never really felt set free

maybe no writer is ever really free

 we are all slaves to our work

to the words that fill our heads

and wake us at the strangest hour in the the middle of the night

or the day if you are one like me who tends to sleep

in the daylight with the blinds closed

closed to the world but open to the net

attempting digital suicide

or a run to freedom she can never quite see

because her eyes never adjust to any light that is not artificial

This is Josalisa live for Planet RiOt