Miles M. ReVera

I am, and have travelled for Miles
And what makes me, me, is the knowledge I’ve acquired.
Most things in life I hear people say are a shame,
Like every time I hear; “Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”
Well, I acquired the cheat codes for infinite knowledge bombs,
That when dropped, cause sub-atomic synapses to fire and form.
The code is A, B, A, B, Perseverance, Experience, Left, Right, Up, Down, Select, Start.
Good luck finding all THOSE buttons.
You see, I learned sexy and
I learned smooth. And,
I learned we’re not related
I learned to spit in the face of adversity
I learned I’m not a great spitter, I don’t practice and I don’t do it often.
I learned some people do practice, and do spit fairly often.
I learned adversity is one of THOSE guys.
I learned that an 1,100 square foot apartment is 950 Square feet smaller when you live with someone else
(it’s the bathroom)
(I learned that I can whisper outside the confines of this poem)
(I think I’m learning irony)
I learned all I’ve learned from advertisements and word of mouth
I learned that speaking’s over-rated, that listening is where it’s at.
And so I learned to gather all the “it” up and carry the bottle around with me.
Now I’m always where it’s at
I learned that faith alone won’t get you very far. Also,
I learned that without it, you can only get so far.
I learned that being sentient doesn’t actually mean you think
It just means that you were born with the ability to.
And I’m often perplexed with how to quantify or qualify the extensive potential of thought?
It’s not like you can just look back and record what’s been mentally computed.
So what’s the reason I look at some people and just can’t help but label them stupid?
I bet it’s their stupid face.
And although I’m sure the origins are probably hard to trace
I’m sure that look of ignorance all comes from the same place,
It’s probably New Jersey
Not that I think it’s dirty, just slightly unworthy.
Doesn’t seem very “New” to me,
Seems like that Mets Jersey you forgot to throw in the laundry.
(It stinks)
And life can get serious before you can even blink
Like when it seems the 3rd eye of Karma starts to shrink
And the morality holding the threads of our humanity starts to sink
It’s in these times I find it best to just sit back and think a while
And I remember that I have become and travelled Miles.

I’m Miles M. ReVera
I’m that Knight of Truth
I am one of the last of the Hopeless Romantics
I am the pudding for your proof;
That chivalry’s not dead
It’s merely been beaten and bludgeoned in the head
Left bloodied in the gutter by its own demise.
It’s just one of the sad truths of the world that I’ve come to realize.
The ash-filled air stings my eyes and the stench of contrived imperfection fuses to me.
It’s the smoldered fibers of indecency
That cling to the anger seeded within our individual propriety
And transformed by our collective singularity.
It plucks their strings to build accord
Transcendental aberrations, lost and bored,
Manifested temptation,
The dwelling of an insatiable sensation.
As vanity rises for inebriation.
It’s qualifiably insane but
I’m an empath and I steal your emotions like a thief.
When I stop to breathe, I get no relief,
It feels like I’m grinding my teeth,
And I’m resigned to accept the beliefs and generalities
Made by the stereo-typical cliques within societies
And their common-play thread of commonalities.
I feel like integrity is running scared and blind
It’s mis-directing my conscience, my compass, my mind.
And I see it as a reflection of our human nature left behind
You see, Morality and Passion are best when defined.
Particularly when combined with Intelligence and Modesty.
A scoach of honesty
And a landfill of positivity.
We’ll call it hope.
You see the glass as half empty
I see it as something to ease my thirsty throat.
And your tainted views brake me.
Not shattered, torn, defunct or broken
But Stopped.
Shook.
Fabrics of my very being pluck
The tendrils of Karma
Or is it Luck?
Is it Pride? Life? Payback?
I don’t give a Fuck!
It’s enough.
And it’s all I can take,
The most I can muster up
Is the meek Courage to purvey the unique calculations that my mental makes.
While you’re so restricted and resigned to live within your personal inclination
My idea for this world is to design a space and time for the release of creation.
The possibility for Freedom from life’s Monotony,
The ability to create or dissipate internal controversy.
It’s your call to stay or stray from what’s considered “on course”
Just remember at the end of the day, as your thoughts are strictly formatted,
My mind runs Open Source.