March 31, 2008

Distance (From the Source)

By Charles Sapp II

Distance relative to time and experience.
I’ve been distanced from the Source,
accustomed to daylight,
deprived for a year
hoarding the night’s light as a substitution,
providing a newfound recognition and respect for light years.

The distance of familiarity distorts to grim euphoria
and the dislocation of time,
as I jump
through parallel dimensions of time zones
and leap over the international date line to say hello to myself in the future
and live with my twin self’s alter ego
Getting to know thy self could never be so comforting,
yet awkwardly unorthodox
like reverse laws of relativity and broken quantum mechanics
I portal here to there fewer than several guided mission,
to love and experience the truth that manifested itself through the obstacles of transition.

Summon the Sun
to light the night as a beacon that defies possibilities and outcome.
Lend a hand
and plug into the Source, with direct contact
with the forgotten between
distanced memories and recollections.
As all imagery floods the space between now and then,
one must learn to love again, one must obey
the hidden and the unexplained;
as the answers sought
have been close all along.

March 27, 2008

Distorted Dimensions

By Charles Sapp II

Beyond the gates of foreseen future
are corridors outlined with pillars as support structures
holding the weight of sectioned paths
like the spine of destiny
each dimension is unique and expansive
peering into your existence
as a lucky prize winner given the opportunity for life.

Life is slightly distorted with one eye view,
one opened and the other closed,
alternating perspectives.
enhanced perception of sidereal days
as the majestic sky highlighted at night
with past love stories bound

as the energy is magnificently released,
we exalt the happiness centuries later
as the pattern of corresponds to the cyclic nature of writing
the voice to the path led by crooked lines
staining tree fiber flesh
as it erodes through time.

Life's Painting

21st Century Panopticism
Courtesy of Colin Harbut at

By Charles Sapp II

With ear to the ground
listening to the footsteps marching towards the future
and swirling winds whispering messages of a prolonged past.
Spacious canvas, painted with opaque pastels, embellishments of vivid nature.
Each color is a period of man’s history,
with overtones of civil curiosity and disobedience;
bleeding a mixture of primal advancements.

Humanity’s lustrous moments dashed with hues of blue
shaded to sea green symbolic of sky and water and the conquering of terrain on seven continents.
The development of cultures that clash with abstract points of view;
we settle this as the art of war
that hangs in life’s museum gallery.

March 25, 2008


There is a time when you sit back and laugh at the time wasted on trivial matters that don’t even involve your own life, taking another person’s personal life personally. We all do it.

Control I must have it, I’m addicted to the power. Deep down we try to lasso life, even though it is beyond our hold. We persecute the figure in the mirror and worship the image seen in other’s eyes. Control is silencing the mind with blue orbs of liquid light, enveloping the oceans of ideas, wavering endless possibilities with sound judgment; these orbs represent guidance.

I have plenty, intended to evenly distribute to the youth who want to control their own will upon the world and shape their future. I sometimes fear to plant my seed in a world of weeds, eager to strangle the nutrients I feed as their conscious decisions are controlled by becoming too weak to think for themselves and deficient usually stemmed from the home front; the foundation of principles are unstable as we leave most children behind. I selfishly want to control my unborn future’s destiny as a result.

Asking for help, I summon the power of liquid Sun truth, to give strength because tomorrow is rich with promises. Heavy headed with solid thoughts that give way to dreams afloat, I breathe deeply, following the flow of love and relinquishing my grip of control on a unpredictable world. Rethinking—how special the world could be if we just learned to let go.

March 24, 2008

Tools of Obsession

I have to say I am old-school with my writing approach, at least by preference; I prefer the touch of paper and the ink saturating the surface opposed to digital keystrokes. I feel more connected to my writing with primitive instruments. The computer approach is too sterile. I must touch what I write, it brings more feeling to the message.

Almost sensual and erotic, I love the smell of my leather journal and the coarseness of the handmade paper; as I turn each blank page, the future words illuminate and fade to their whisper. My journal calls me if I am away too long, as it also knows that I begin to miss and long to reunite with it. I open it slowly and savor the action of releasing my emotion into the keepsake of earthly testimonies. I’ve been withdrawn and away from this feeling for quite some time, I feel connected to everything organic and full of life. The more I write in it, the easier it is for creativity to leak from my pen to paper.

It is an exhilarating experience for any writer and the connection we have to our tools. Sometimes I love to peruse other instruments of writing and journals for future scribing, for the pure pleasure of documentation.

Untranslated Language

By Charles Sapp II

A soul kiss;
the soft brush of flesh upon moistened lips
pressed firmly on chest.

She awarded me with a silver heart so our love will never tarnish,
enclosed in a steel cage impervious to rust,
fortified, built to last, secure that love will never escape
but only she holds the key.

The key to passageways
forbidden, summoned
with encrypted words, keywords to intimate worlds,
portals of trust—
fail proof for self destruction; a cataclysmic end
from something beautiful, sacred and untimely.
These are the whispers that linger as a cold chill
of foreshadowed dreams and diaries
that read the same with different text;
all I know is that I will hold it forever.

I want to remember my dreams,
elaborate details with remarkable accounts of fantasy fulfillment.
The clear waters on clear summer days
dramatically become overcast
and my nightmares become evident and plague my sleep
like the invasion of rogue waves at sea, or the draft wind
ghostly seeping through cracks and sills of tightly sealed windows and doors,
only to be found and entered during vulnerability
when the subconscious least expects it;
fueling or fooling my heart to beat beyond my control.

My dual respect for experience cannot help to love and hate your appearance.
How should I feel?
Should I embrace the guilt, or question the pain
as my life is independent and no longer adheres to the madness.
I say goodbye and farewell
simply by waking.

With a breath of extinguished fire,
words burn from smoke signals— spoken.
The signals undulate with the power of suggestion,
and I obeyed, even while they chastised my soul
to separate from spirit and relish in the beauty of composed lyrics,
enticing my movement upon command.

This soul is not for sale, it is a mere slave to sacrificial laws;
poetically combined to exemplify the mastery of craft,
dedicated to its passion.
The strength lies here,
between the message and the meaning;
from the unheard, unseen, and unspoken.
An untranslated language;
obeyed internally as it replicates
the encompassing sound of entirety
only found within silence.

March 21, 2008

Defenseless from Destiny

By Charles Sapp II

Destiny on a collision course with fate, cancelling one another out, leaving a gaping void in the ether of thought and contemplation; fizzing remnants of action’s ghost settling with what may have been. Moving on to the next, witnessing time’s vengeful acts of misfortune executed simply with malice in mind, faces melt to a questionable memory—till forgotten.

Face rests in hands with overwhelming worry, the sounds of the clock amplified, broadcasting the duration of energy at its latency. Love is motivation to the heart and soul invading all stillness allowing expansion and the capacity of understanding. Standing free of burden and guilt, since freedom of will is by choice. Laughing is the cure of self torment which laughs back in ridicule and poses no more threat to the mobility of consciousness. The visible light unfolds and reveals the imperfections as shame overrides the cascading flush of embarrassment of understanding our flaws that are exposed like fresh wounds awaiting infection by all who may notice.

March 20, 2008

Blissful Wish

Image Courtesy of Thane Gorek at

With the constant need to change how I am living or how I perceive life; am I or will I always be in the pursuit of happiness, sometimes my fears get the best of me.

I’ve grown used to being tough, impenetrable, or impervious to feelings like most men—it’s a front. I wind up my sleeves as I go to work; mentally mind fucking my every mood with balancing rituals of right and wrong and replacing insensitive remarks with consoling potions and lotions rubbed on the shoulders that weigh heavy burdens.

The tug of war with Good versus Evil leaves blistered burns of callous palms along with a tired mind. I try to supplement what my life is deficient in, in hopes to achieve a healthy relationship with comfort in my own skin. I want to be guilt free and love thy neighbor, even with all of the suspicion and motives. I fear being the fool who dances his way off cliffs, yet I long for his ignorance leading his life as bliss.

March 19, 2008

Concentric Beings

By Charles Sapp II

speechless minutes
rob eternity of silence.

time signs in stillness when viewed afar.
Ego driven men interrupt nature
for fear of life’s speed
spent on meditation.

The Earth moves when I say go,
the Earth sleeps when I say so;
you may dream on my watch.

Positively charged partners in time
whom coexist; cohesively
like exhibitionist
love exhibits
we experience the breath of light,
this illuminates two soul’s romance.

March 18, 2008

Birthday Retrospective

This was actually written on my birth date Feb. 7th 2008. I was feeling good about the direction my life has taken. I feel like I have complete control as the driver rather than a passenger blindfolded.

Fireworks illuminate the night sky; the echoes reverberate off the buildings welcoming my birthday and the Chinese New Year. Thirty one years and the best are yet to come. Three years ago I almost let go, I lost myself at the mercy of abysmal defeat and was at the point of no return, although I gained more from the perseverance, will, and determination. Realizing that life’s greatest lessons are testaments derived from points, trials and misguided paths.

The beauty is that at thirty one, I realized that the best things in life are the ones worth the wait. Dreams are real, especially when remembered and dreamt often, self reminders become evident; what you lack, life replenishes only upon your own will.
The science of the matter is that, I’ve gotten older, my eye sight has worsened, but I have not given up my focus towards the future, allowing me to regain youth through discovery and nourishment of health by the nectar of love.

The Sun has blessed my existence and has illuminated my path by the grace of Goodness...

March 17, 2008

Soul Walking

By Charles Sapp II

Awakened by the ring of silence,
opened eyes
focusing on distorted shapes;
flickering images between dreams and reality.

Pictures in frames
aging to the future,
yet mirrors reflect the youth of the past.

Screaming hello
echoes back goodbye.

Caught between opposite’s attraction,
dancing to the Sun and Moon’s music;
shadows in rotation
producing tones of color
changing within light’s radiance.

The garden of truth
harvests copious amounts of answers;
budding new questions,
feeding the thirst of knowledge.
The energy is ever present—

This energy fueling our animation,
dating back to the first light spoken into existence;
dizzying rotation of galaxies, stars and Earth;
glued by gravity.

Yellow and blue spheres surround me,
oscillating to the same frequency of biorhythms.
Patterns emerge,
translating messages from past interactions of love,
no longer with us,
we have the ability to rewind history through memory.

The diary of a soul wandering outside while asleep.

March 14, 2008


By Charles Sapp II

is nothing more
than stealth transformations---


out of mind,
out of body
experiences treading the deep waters,
the deep end of questions; leads me to ask:
Am I full of myself or just a fool to everyone else?

Attempting to grasp truth,
but truth is evasive and adds a stratum of questions
when close to discovery.
I’ve written and lied
aiding and abetting truth’s voice,

ashamed of illness.

On the other side,
like megalomaniacs having temper tantrums,
punching holes into the atmosphere,
pissing into the ocean while wading in the Pacific
and spitting on the Sun—
are the parasitic beings
that inhabits the only viable host for life.
we are not ready yet
and I should not be here.

The year was 1977,
my soul was sentenced to life,

an earthbound prisoner—

March 13, 2008

Deconstruction of Civil Wrongs

Introduction—Perilous Rights of Passage

By Charles Sapp II

Exaggeration of the ignorance;
intra-racial wars
with short term memory loss.

We have weakened our virtues
with self inflicted wounds
because of the hatred
of our mirrored self image.

False interpretations of love,
damned by persecuted minds;
we’ve stowed the seeds of selfishness
and our seeds have grown to learn
those bastards are born with egos as fathers
and insecurity as mothers and envy as siblings.


Character: -noun

1. the aggregate of features and traits that form the individual nature of some person or thing.

I’ve been told my whole life that character is the most important part of being human, and can be defined by ethics, morality and sensitivity.

The surface of the intangible is masked in a gray film, shape-shifting our roles on this planet. Our interactions with one another are vital as character defines our involvement. I just wanted to bring light to this virtue as we encounter new people, express our thoughts with or without consent, or lead by example with the watchful eyes of children as they costume our character. We need to be responsible to our micro environment rather its family, friends, or ourselves.

I reflect on the hours spent on Digg and Stumble, I can’t help but count the tragic stories that leave me in disbelief that people’s character has been degraded so much in society. This is not a philosophical exchange, rather just an acknowledgment to recognize the destruction of our minds that coincide to the desecration of character, and please remember to consider this the next time we cross paths.

March 12, 2008

New Blog Look - 1VERSE

I originally had this layout set for a seperate blog, but I decided to not divide the content, only because I do not have enough time to maintain 2 blogs to be honest and I just wanted to make things a little more easier on the eyes; therefore I have transfered the concept over to be a bit more welcoming and still minimalistic. Let me know what you think. Thanks.


By Charles Sapp II

I am shaking as I gain my composure.
To compose my soul's prose—
if it were music its synonym would be its score.

You’ve shown me absolute light
during the most dismal days of dark despair.
I write, as if my heart is unplugged,
bleeding unadulterated emotion
signified by graphite symbols,
staining its etched testimonies
deep into the pulpous fibers of this fine parchment.

This is the instrument of my methods.
This page is my medium,
my canvas
to illustrate the aquiferous love that permeates to the surface.

It is like my soul is subordinate while on curfew
when it exits my body and rendezvous with your spirit’s
uncanny love.

I want to present timeless gifts in your honor
beyond worldly wealth;
heaven’s heirlooms
intangible and intimate.

March 11, 2008


On Sunday, December 16th 2007 I asked the love of my life to marry me with her family present. It was a wonderful evening which has topped all previous momentous moments of my life thus far. Thank you for accepting.

My undying love for you is deep rooted
and seeded from the heart
withstanding the duress of time
never expiring.

My love for you grows exponentially
beyond tomorrow’s limitations.
My love is guided by the light of your beauty,
captivated with mesmerism.
Life’s blessings have brought me you.
You are precious and divine
and no stone can ever express my love for you.
The heaven’s beauty is seen through your eyes.
I want to cherish each given moment with you,

With this said:
Leah Gezahegne, will you accept my hand in marriage?

March 10, 2008


By Charles Sapp II

When Ugly grins
with shifty eyes and gritting teeth;
it’s unbearable to look.

Ugly walks stealthily, camouflaged in shadows
enriched with still pleasure,
like admiring the beauty of old folks love
and children at play;
yet Ugly leaps out
and narrates its involvement
how the old will parish
with disease of forgotten past memories
and how the children will lose their innocence
as the sun sets;
when Ugly and the shadows
plague the night.

Ugly disguised as the voice of truth and reason and
complicated rationalization,
masking its identity
as ego’s self.

Ugly breeds a new dimension of hate and ignorance,
it has lived inside the minds of many
for millennia;
it is the sick curse
that propagates and flourishes the evils of men.

Sly as it slithers,
lurking towards its next victim
excluded from children,
yet it waits till maturity
to infest the feeble minds
genetically dispersed upon
generation to generation;
although Ugly may stare and glare,
but Ugly is in the mind’s eye of the beholder.


By Charles Sapp II

Tear stained flesh,
unaccompanied with comforting arms;
displays of unaffection.
Question the face of love, is this what you want?
Fear of closeness
attached emotion
solidified whisper,
a suitable kiss
with passion stained sheets
embraced suction of sweat
and heartbeat talk.

Laying in parallel—
worlds united,
past histories clash
redefining future possibilities.
Unconditional love,
blame mother and father.

Caged affection
with animal instincts
and human feelings;
unaddressed with silent ways
to say I love you
and sorry to have hurt you.

March 6, 2008

New Album- Depths of the Soul

I put this album together in attempts to leave it in its rawest form; keeping it dirty without all of the digital washing of post recording edits, mixing and mastering. This album was completly done on one take; a freestyle approach to capture the mood and feel at that given moment, so that a human element can be distinguised from the apparent technological format. Not many artists want to show the smudges and fingerprints on the canvas during their creations, I wanted to be that of a few who dare to exhibit the actual moments of expression.

Please feel free to comment or discuss what you think or how you feel.

Please Introduce Yourself


I have been noticing some visitors that have come to the blog and I would like to take the time to have you introduce yourself and leave a link to your blog so I may know a bit more about you. Hey, this is a friendly,sharing community and its not quite right when I divulge myself open for scrutiny I would like to know who it is that I am expressing to. Again thanks for the visit, and consider this a formal invitation. I think I will begin something once a week to get more involvement from the session. What do you think?


By Charles Sapp II

As I lay my head back
the heavens fall into my eyes,
whereas; the past foreshadows the future.

Translate its wisdom in native tongues;
through the winds,
heard and felt,
message unseen.

it reminds me to love
the recklessness of beings
that treason with nature.

The Earth’s gravity
are my shackles
as my soul is confined
with limited visitation rights.

March 5, 2008

Midnight Wanderer

Just like my fellow Society member, Francis of the Midnight Wanderers, I decided to write a poem with honor to be accepted into an elite group of writers. Thanks Francis for the inspiration as your poem is well defined.

By Charles Sapp II

Midnight wandering,
side stepping crooked shadows,
aligning encrypted messages on paper to write.
Summoning the Sun at the feet
and moon overhead,
equidistant from brilliance
at the stroke of genius;
this creeps like a cold chill when the rest sleeps.

Acute senses harmonize in unison
a well oiled machine
mechanically moving
like a manic marionette
astray with no strings attached.
Over active pineal gland
recycling the days thoughts
into a unified masterpiece
articulated with biorhythms,
discoverable only when the night's spell wears off;
visible as the lights rays decipher
the shadows coded language;
behold the fervent modes
of a midnight wanderer.

March 4, 2008

Health Priorities

I sit here completely blank sometimes and quite hesitant whether to journal my day’s events. I often consider how others will perceive my life and say wow how exciting or blah how droll. All in all I plunge myself into the madness and immerse myself with the thoughts and feelings that represent me today and adding a human element to this blog.

Anxiously I wait to go to the gym and release my frustrations on a pile of weights, not before I tire myself with cardio, which then limits my strength left for the weights. I must put my priorities first; either I lift weights to become solid or cardio to melt the fat. Damn, life can be so hard when it comes to decisions. I say cardio every day but weights it is.

All of this began by a few events one of the most recent was when my fiancĂ©e and I wanted to go to a Brazilian buffet and took a taxi, it turns out that it was the only restaurant in Beijing that was undergoing construction; we turned around and headed to the opposite direction to yet another Brazilian buffet restaurant which was embedded 2 miles in a huge park. We arrive and they stopped serving 10 minutes before we arrived, so the mysterious nature of the Higher Source made us exercise while in pursuit of food—how pitiful. I was absolutely distraught that I would go these lengths for food and not put near the effort to procure my health—lessoned learned!

I’ve recently overcome and now have command over the urges of my addiction of cigarettes. It so happens that I quit in the hardest place in the world to quit—China! Everyone in this country smokes, even the kids. No seriously, you cannot escape it, the taxis, restaurants, all buildings, work, in public, in homes, it doesn’t matter it is everywhere. Now I’m disgusted when I see and smell it; therefore I am disgusted all the time. I fantasize when I will return back to sunny Northern California and breathe the clear air and view the blue skies with very little smog. I recently read that the normal stay for any expat is between 2-3 years based on health, by extending your stay you are basically robbing yourself approximately 2.5 years of your life expectancy. THAT DID IT! I am more focused on health than ever before.

March 3, 2008

Reflected Stillness

By Charles Sapp II

Eager to withstand the Earth’s rotation,
standing still as tree’s grow before my eyes
and like snakes vines whirl their way up my trunk.
The Earth bubbles at my feet as growth and decay
play tag under the supervision of time.

The hawks circle with generations soaring higher than the last.
I can no longer witness the height of their altitude.
My children’s voice amplified by billions
heard across the universe and reflected back.

The Sun is my daughter
she’s a star and her flares
move to the solar wind,
how beautiful is her turquoise glow.
as a spotlight.
A beacon of beauty
visibly sought for.
My daughter—unborn.

Galaxies stand still
compared to the magnitude of the viewer;
like dust particles they fly apart
to settle in a remote part of space to be forgotten
until the light of their memory is captured by a distant observer.

Our information drifts silently
through clouds of debris
from the early universe,
the information we send is accumulated history,
the history I helped make and the history I watched dissipate.

Empowered [Prompt and Link for Writers Island]

By Charles Sapp II

is shouting “I am powered” to the world
with self actualization from a distant movement,
as aftershock waves permeate
what I stand for with gradual changes.

is plugging into the Sun,
absorbing its radiant truth
and uplifting those deprived of light and sight.

is the ancient souls
speaking wisdom through children voices
and digesting their sermon.
Standing still for eternity
and recording all movement that surrounds me,
a catalog of time,
a symbol of choice
erected from something grand.

is force carried
and moved on with solid grace,
integrity by design;
a metamorphism, a transition
from a selfless act.