our purest form of art

from the top to the bottom.

hair to the toes,

each inch, each pore.

each scrap of muscles carelessly thrown over the bone,


we move it with intent and efficiency
fully aware.

tasting the fibers and air
and all above else
as we tell our

manifestation of will

to move in accordance with the being.


completely whole through our movement,
feeling not just a connection,

no knowing of the mind. and the body.

but knowing of a single being.




not retreated inwards we are,
sparing our passion and beauty for a measly
piece of parchment. puft.

we run out ourselves,

experiencing our bliss
through our dance.



i am not a wildebeest slave to a clicking
or a stroking
or a melody.

i am a wiry
bending
piece of iron.

slave only to my being.

"any practitioner of some physical art form, overwhelm themselves with there pretentious devotion. i myself subscribe only to all disciplines."

-me.

Reviews

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

I like the whole integration of everypiece you incoporate into the 'body' of the poem~ anyone who falls to deep into themselves through any form of devotional descipline is bound to taste a little pretentious now and again~ for me its the naginatajutsu~ blade only~ the stick is not my thing~ =)~