Absorption of Human Emotion

I have used this title before in a poem and a song on my album. I consider it a defining attribute and at the same time a hindrance in my everyday life.

My recent posts have been relative with similar experiences and will be found throughout most of my writings. I decided to write this expression especially after talking to someone close to me whom is experiencing a breakthrough from angst.

Life of a sensitive is like a sponge, consuming the energy of whomever in contact with. Information leaks from our eyes, facial expressions, posture, tonal qualities of the voice, or just being. I contributed this sensitivity to my onslaught of depression, especially in this negative world; yet I thrive like a starving plant with just enough water and Sunlight to awaken my desperate need for vibrancy. No wonder so many people are on anti-depressants and other numbing synthetics. It is true, our senses are beyond what we are accustomed to and Love conquers all. I learned to channel that energy into my writings to juxtapose the polarity of life and decide how I will transform or redirect the energy into something truly beneficial for all around me—it is my responsibility.

We devour and react to the invisible forces that affect our chemical makeup; unbeknownst our recollection. What are thoughts without feelings?

HumaneMotion

By Charles Sapp II

Behold the temporal eyes
confined by the matters of the mind.
Imbued by a transcendental paradox
coefficient to the truth,
relative to pureness,
settled in stillness and
solidified in a timeless form.

A replica of the human element
with an antiquated spirit,
a relic of deciduous flesh
life of an unremitting soul.

Copious compositions assimilated from focused thought
as rendered methods of creativity.
A human touch--- reaching out
feeling for human emotion,
connected by the soles of the feet,
bound to the skin of the Earth;
slowly relinquishing the umbilical cord to our natal existence.

Primitive I speak, for I not speak for myself
and these words undulate
on deaf ears.

Heliocentric Love

Photo-Courtesy of SOHO (ESA & NASA)

By Charles Sapp II

Welcoming the gift of warmth presented daily.
Blessings from afar 8 minutes late,
attributing to sight
your light is the fundamental reason of our being.
We gravitate and dance at your summons;
we obey.
The masterful display of your power,
showering charged particles
that rain from the depths of the heavens.
Ordinary, yet unique
you illuminate the shadows of doubt
as every morning you awaken the spirit and
your presence is felt with closed eyes,
without looking directly;
without blinding ourselves of your importance,
without heeding to your warnings.
Nothing lasts forever
as you sit centered in
our recognizable universe.

Unsilenced

By Charles Sapp II

Time passes unsilenced;
with frames fragmented and jigsawed seamlessly,
while its signature uniquely defining each life as its own identity.
It is an impenetrable force; a juggernaut with no barrier,
limitless and boundless,
accompanied with light,
both are enigmas with holy essence.

Two forms
structuring reality
within depths of dimensionless space,
a myriad of possibilities
factored to our choice;
either watch it or ride it
like the kite to the wind
and the vessel at sea.

It is the derivatives of we,
as we are born from the same source
and our direction is on the same course.

Although time passes unsilenced,
it reverberates as echoes through history
filled with our voices.
Our future has already happened,
we are just waiting;
waiting for the first wave of light to say so,
and déjà vu is just a reflection,
a glimmer of hope,
a glint of truth.

Yet, I’m faster than both Time and Light
when I’m asleep.

Guardian of Rest

By Charles Sapp II

I have been conditioned
to write at night;
scripting dreams with the wield of my pen.

I cannot escape the need of perfection.
I cannot erase a single word from this page
without the fear that I will somehow alter fate;
and I will be erased
from your mind
and your dreams.

I rather illustrate your beauty with words
and keep you here for eternity.
My right hand holds your hand as you enter REM.
You are at peace
and safe
as long as I keep writing.

I want to be the last thing you see when you close your eyes
and the first to greet you as you awake;
outshining the Sun.

Searching for Nothing

In the past I’ve been compelled to search. Not the Google or Yahoo search, but to search inwards and outwards. I’ve been searching and searching—for nothing.

It’s been here and will always be here. Recently I think I’ve been most content; but not complacent. I have been most active in pursuing my dreams and have found a person whom loves me with all of my crazy antics and multi-personalities; which is why I asked her to marry me. My fiancée dropped her job to move to Beijing, China with me to share my vision in a start-up company; we now spend literally 24 hours 7 days a week together. Normally, this would cause havoc with most couples, but we learned a lot and found each other all over again and has made us strong throughout this venture living abroad.

For a long time I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie “Castaway”, I was lost and now I am found. I found the rebirth of my expression in the forms of writing and creating a piece of me that cannot be duplicated, neither forced nor exaggerated. What I put forth, is me in the raw form-- priceless.

Have any of you experienced the feeling of out-of-body disconnectedness? I felt alone in the past, I could barely relate with most family and friends. I hit rock bottom and felt like the world would expel me at any moment. I wrote with therapeutic verses to ease the pain, but it would not subside, this is where my writings began to have an alter ego voice longing for something more. As a sensitive, I found it hard to digest the hurt and wrongs of the world; hence I lived in a ideological world that was unified and connected; lo and behold the 1verse concept. The search was exhaustive to the mind and soul. My search was reaching out to others; yet in our world we pass without a hello or goodbye. My antennae were feeling out for any vibration or echo that life was responsive to my requests, but I received nothing. The duration was long and painstaking, but what I’ve gained was new light and has allowed me to view the world in a broad spectrum and given me hope.

I write this entry as a testimonial for all that feel a disconnection and have been on a search quest. I write this for those whose brilliance outshine mediocrity, those who divert their energy inwards like a collapsing star, to the point of darkness, for those that do not understand that this feeling is the experience that beckons the knowledge life offers. I say embrace it.

Therapeutic Exercise

By Charles Sapp II

Some therapy this is—
too timid to excavate my emotions
and transport them into visible displays of word play.

I miss my Mother.

The loneliness is smothering my concentration.
It has been four years since I’ve heard your voice,
although I see you throughout nature
and I know you see me also.
Sometimes I just want to see the human form.

I cry internally everyday
with hopes of flooding the void
of your physical departure
and to feel full again,
as my memories of you surface.

The love is eternal.

My qualms and weakness
is that I’m human.

What Time is It?

I have been cultivating my ideas and expressions for almost a decade and I am finding that it has never become outdated. The intensity and presentation has been stronger than ever and the release is more mature like fine wine, it must age. My question is this:

What Time is It?

Do you know when it is time to relinquish these thoughts? Especially when time is consistently updating the history; we encounter all of the social, political, and economic events that shape societies existence. We are even more pressed on time when we finally acknowledged the environmentalist cries almost 3 decades ago that global warming is real and we must make a change to our behaviors and greed upon resources. Are we too late?

When I first began writing I found an urgency to expel my information to the public, with fears that it will be too late and my message would be redundant; I sat and pondered my "unactivist" approach and lost most hope and became more disgruntled as I watch the substitution of intellectualism for pop-culturalism.

Since living abroad in China, I have recharged my batteries as a writer. I am able to see things from a different angle or perspective—everything is up close.

Recent studies report that China uses 3 billion plastic bags a day, beginning in June they are prohibiting the use of plastic bags. The 2008 Beijing Olympics is a platform to show the world their strides on environmental issues. They are planning to remove 1.5 million vehicles off the road during the Olympics to reduce traffic and pollution. These are proactive solutions for dealing with waste and pollution, especially in a city that is by far the most concentrated place on Earth. As an American I've noticed public announcements to become more "Green Conscious"; is it enough?

When is it time as a collective, do we attempt to become active in our world? Rather we destroy ourselves; the Earth will flourish; however, at the rate we are going as parasitic beings, we may not be able to repair our damages. Hopefully we all remember that no matter what NASA or any space agency is attempting, we only have 1 Earth. So, what time do you have?

Holy Children - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

Isn't it true
we view the world
in the eyes of our mind?

Then we should all be like children.
Children with no recollection of time
besides the orange glow of the setting Sun,
queuing the retreat towards home,
closing the summer session of play
without disobedience of mother's say.

Children with sparkling purity of innocence
seen through the unclouded eyes,
eager to absorb the beauty that crosses their path.
Children without the corruption persuaded by adults,
looming with faults and despair; infectious with ignorance,
uninfluenced by an angry world.

Children unbiased by their genetic makeup
or the composition of the pigment of their skin;
color is just those found in the box of Crayola
8, 16, 32, or 64 shades is all that is needed to color their worlds.

Children meander silently, dormant till maturity,
with sights collected from experience.
Impressionable, with our negligence
we extract their power with selfishness of ego,
and vanity to procreate the closest thing to God
and abandon our responsibilities to secure the future of Man.
We must nurture, further as fathers and mothers
the reflections of ourselves.

The nature of children is holy;
they forgive
they learn
they are truth in its raw form;
they are God's love.

Blogosphere – It Lives

I've been sitting here and contemplating the blogosphere community and noticed how it breathes and lives. It is nice to recognize everyone's muses and deepest emotional settings. I just recently posted a poem called 'Captured Emotion" which I feel is the process that most of us encounter when divulging our inner personal thoughts and feelings—no matter in what form. My account is only in the perspective of a poet. The creation of something that is unique or personal I think is the energy that is driving the blogosphere and making it become a tangible entity and providing a network of beings together by one cause, one root thought and one emotion.

As a writer, in the past I've stashed my journals underneath beds and saved my work on discs that cannot be found, but I have now found my freedom—weblogs…

This newfound outlet has given me the platform to share, become inspired and communicate beyond a dusty book of faded words allowing this introverted art form to have a voice and immortalize its existence.

I thank the comments received as it encourages growth during this learning process and has inspired me to reflect upon my existence on this digital sphere. What I am now with my thoughts I surely will become.

Captured Emotion - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

Then it presents me with an offering,
an offer I cannot refuse.

I begin with scribing my life on dead tree's flesh,
preserving them immortal;
or at least my words anyway.

As my pencil etches itself into the pulpous fibers,
these pages;
this intonates my translation into harmonious music
and brings this silent art form to life.
My hand leaves imprints of heat
as the graphite melts from my left hand;
chasing the future.

I realize the indentation after each line
and crossed out words that follow.
I add emphasis to keywords
which are synonymous to my breathing pattern.

As spirituality awakens;
there is no summit,
I can reach this point again—
tomorrow;
as long as I relinquish my inhibitions.

This poem is for you;
the present.

Symbols systematically arranged;
equates to the passion
which words can never surmount to.

This exposure is what is owed to you;
my sacrifice is to human nature,
revealed as the nakedness of thought;
captured in 1 dimension
behold
living emotion.

Natural Revolution - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

Hollow trees,
cavities or remnants of Earth's wisdom
grown over the ages.
Nature and its victims
haunt our future, as vengeance.

Predestined;
awaiting baptism in celestial waters
where natal wombs harvest the arid Earth
to replenish
or heal the scars of yesterday's land.

Polar caps melt, oceans rise
along with
warring nations and oil slaves;
is this murder
or is it genocide?

Crippled
and at the mercy of technology
as digital dependents;
sterility in the face of a viral state of emergency.
Microcosmic phobias
with lethal acronyms;
plagued with parasitic selfishness.
The planet in peril
weeps at night
when the Sun is not laminating her wounds;
with centuries of abuse.
The Earth dare not speak
only the hollow tree
sits silent
retaining the memory
throughout human history.

Mathematics (Scientific Dialect) - Poem

My blog is in its infancy and in respect to the few readers and subscribers I do have, I wanted to add some special entries; although they are back to back, I had a long gap over the weekend without activity. So these are posted specifically for you, thank you for subscribing and taking the time to read my posts.

This is an introduction and precursor to a collection that has been in the works for several years, the collection is called 'Depths of the Soul'. Scientific dialect is a sub-section associated with my background and studies in astronomy and astrophysics. The entire series is bringing the human qualities and the properties of nature together under one experience; although it is my belief we all experience it the same, but how we perceive and express it is completely different.

By Charles Sapp II

The variations of variables
and the multiplicative instances
of right versus wrong.
The imperative accounts of lesser love
overwhelmed with unsatisfactory values
are nothing more than denominators
of the apparent whole.

Quantification of gods
summed into a universal equation
balances or equates our existence
to a decimal—or dismal point of despair
or disdained theoretical hypocrisy.
Revolutionary to the binary existence
of souls and their electrical imprint
onto the fabric of time;
reduced to a minimal fraction
compared to the sum of IS.
the quotient of questioning is this:

1 to the power of eternity's quest
and the derivative by some unequal value
is the result and root
of life
mathematically integrated
with integers on an acute scale,
no less than 45 degrees below
the angle of holy obsessions
to figuratively express
what science may calculate
as the rhythm of life.

Elements - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

The stars have made their mark
as nuclear furnaces
penetrating the depths of the dark.

My skin absorbs the tidal forces of lunar phases
to balance my bearings on Earth.
My eyes gather the filtered photons
scattered through the atmosphere,
so I may better perceive life
and receive the beauty radiating from my soul's love.

I inhale the breath of life
as the wind travels great distances
to transfer its energy and summon the clouds of rain,
where my outstretched hands clinch as fists
to capture the essence of purity;
a symbolic relic of truth—
priceless in a world of deceit.

These elements are the ingredients
which manifest a higher form of self
through rest and reflection;
behold the power of dreams.

Shower me with your wisdom
and enlighten me with opportunity.
Empowered by the merciful energy
born from enigmatic clouds of matter,
then shed some light;
giving a reflective perspective
so it may reveal true brilliance
upon shaded regions of the mind.

Focus your sights on me
and animate my growth through eternity,
write me as poetry
constituted as a noun
and brought to life as by action verbs.
Boil the oceans
to circulate the air
and quench the thirst of parched land;
elementary are these elements
as my life is in your hands.

Purpose - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

Attention spanning great distances,
time suspended and put on curfew.
The traffic of thoughts,
moving freely—onto virgin paper,
awaiting the vandalism of a masterpiece;
or is it when untouched?

The pen bleeds ink
as the oil from my palm saturates
the pulpous fibers of this fine parchment;
providing a personal touch to this poem.

The uncaptured rain
the recycled air, purified.
This art form is the cleansing of humanities filth,
while extracting the beauty;
as centerpieces –
as monuments.
To conserve what could be,
only if I and we—
move,
like the animate objects we are;
moved by emotions and experiences.

The need
to be plugged in.
Into what?
It doesn't matter as long as it revalidates my purpose.
Is there purpose?
Must be; I continue to strive and become closer.
Closer to what?
Closer to the high frequency of energy that permeates
my being; awake or at rest.

I mimic the Sun
and wish to give light,
by submitting myself to the source of pure energy;
feeding every need
and seeding the desires of all encountered.

i solated - Poem

By Charles Sapp II

i
standing
i solated

in the middle of green pastures
with bladed grass.

taking moments of life’s lessons,
educated guesses;

substituted positioning
amongst heavenly landmarks.

stillness impedes the motion

i
remain emotionless,
soul identifies with self,
undressed,
naked.
windows made for looking in.

i
becomes you
you become we
we becomes them
them is us
united in a holy reunion
of consciousness.

the recognition of

i
standing

i solated.

An Anomaly in China- Big Black Soul Brother #1

My views of China before I arrived was full of mystery with thoughts of dragons, kung-fu, chow-mien, and wise men with long gray beards and mustaches, circling pagoda buildings and reciting Buddha's mantras of enlightenment.

With these types of thoughts, I too was a victim of naivety and media brainwashing. If this is what I thought the Chinese were about, then what do they think about a brown skin, husky build man with curly hair?

Without understanding of my origination, the first impression is that I am African; until I speak English without an accent. I get the "Ahhh, American… Hollywood". I laugh, we all laugh—briefly. My first day upon arrival; the CEO of my company had his driver pick me up from the airport. He stared at me and shouted "Cha-rowls (Charles), big black soul brother #1…" I died laughing in disbelief from what I just heard, coming from the first person to speak to me in this foreign country; mind you, this was all the English he knew. I knew this was going to be an interesting stay. I have been told that the only reference they have about African-Americans is through sports and movies, and anything other is just a complete fascination; however not all fascinations are of acceptance.

I've been told numerous times that being black is not the reason for the stares, its being a foreigner, an American—or just being fat! I laughed because in America, I am just like everyone else; I can find clothes my size.

The time spent here has been nothing more than a walking spectacle, they are quite curious to see what the big man wants to order from their picture menus (just because it looks like, or says beef, doesn't mean that it is beef—sometimes you must ask what part of the cow). Catching taxis is like wrangling cattle; they stop, look and wave their hands and keep going. The rejection from a taxi is quite often, which is not good when you are standing in the freezing cold. Speaking of cold, I laugh to myself because most people that look like me are here during the summer months but when it gets cold all the tourists leave, I guess to go back towards the equator where its warmer, this could be a reason for more strange looks, they probably ask "why is this one still here?" All in all I will never forget this experience, it has allowed me to reflect on what many years of communism can do to people and how even in 2008, the world can still be caught in time's reflection—the past.

Expression of Love - Poem

What would Valentine’s Day be without a poem made from the expression of love?

The expression of my love for you
cannot be annotated
by an ode or epic
written or sung.
It stems from the core of my soul.

You are my soul’s love.
Deep seeded passion
is the abbreviated form of its expression.

Your exquisite nature
embodies superlative qualities
deserving to be adorned with stars.
I may not begin to illustrate
or captivate your true essence with mere words.

I would dive the oceanic depths,
soar the clouded skies,
tread on burning sands at midday
and climb the canopies of every true
in pursuit of your happiness.

I found that happiness.
I solidified it as a testament
and asked you
to bear my testament upon your left hand.

Setting This Blog into Existence

Being that this is my first post, I am glad to have it be on the 14^th of February; reason is because I am about to share my love and passion with the world.

Interesting enough I've been around the net for many years and read very little blogs. I asked myself what is a blog or what I like to call a bloc; meaning Beings Looking for Outside Connections. The web is nothing more than connecting strands of information and since us beings are usually isolated with our experiences, sometimes we need an outlet or inlet into other's experiences and perspectives to validate what is true and real for ourselves. This is my attempt to express what I've kept to myself for quite some time. Throughout these sessions will be layers of self extractions to add skin to this technology.

What is 1verse? One verse is a moniker that I have been using for quite a while, I figured it fit because a poet writes verses and with my astronomy background uni = 1, and all we know as of yet, there is only 1 universe.

I've always had a deep passion for the movement towards heightened spiritual awareness. I hope that throughout these sessions it stirs an embodiment, as all of us are connected rather via a blog or plainly through existence. We bumble through life in search for something more yet we miss with the avoidance of each other's presence and find ourselves in solitude, wishing and wanting human emotion to persuade our future endeavors.