Motifation

If you are reading this, it means you are alive. How's that for a privilege? If you're gonna say, no, it's not a privilege, life is shit, then you're unconscious and insane. You have the chance to explore. Explore your mind, explore your soul, explore the wonders of the world. Explore emotions, explore dreams, explore mountains, explore oceans. Explore forests, explore cities, explore cultures, explore religions. Life is magnificent, it is the ego that creates the illusion of ugliness.
So if you are reading this, do yourself a favour. Acknowledge the fact that you're alive, appreciate it and go do some awesome shit.

Natural Medicine

Breaking through, breaking out.

Boxes, covers, labels.

Phonetically organized chaos.

Insane society.

A pencil…

Could it overcome a drone?

Could it draw rainbows above the cursed villages?

Could it draw auras above the heads of the innocent?

But there’s no need. The rainbows and the auras are already there.

It’s just that this collective consciousness chose not to perceive them.

And yet, something tells me to stick to it.

To fix it.

To heal it.

But first, it must become aware of its illness.

How can you tell a madman he’s mad?

An Orchid's Light By The Stairs

He followed her to the last floor, where she fell silent.

“I suppose I’ve changed my tune.”

She turned around.

“Fine.”

How much longer will she last?

He kept following her.

They got to the railway station.

“It’s cold.”

He promised he’d always keep a place for her.

“My heart is warm.”

He wandered on the tracks, looking for the train.

She took a step back.

“Would you like me to wait inside?” he asked, smiling.

And suddenly he disappeared.

She felt as though her will had been dislocated.

His voice was in the back of her head.

“You do it for others. Won’t you do it for me?”

“I don’t see how I can. It’s not that I don’t pity you. But one has to do it one’s own way.”

“Perhaps it is so. I’m not desperate.  But I want you.”

Where would it take her?

Distance didn’t matter. It was always a journey of ever-lasting growth for the soul.

Expansion of awareness.

She saw an orchid growing out of the concrete right beside the stairs.

“How simple it would be to just pick it up and throw it on the tracks.”

She didn’t know what to do.

Neither did he.

Nonetheless, the train would come soon.

It was getting cold.

She was combing her hair. It helped her to concentrate.

How much longer will she last?

“Fine.”

But it was too late. The train was coming. She could hear it.

“Come on!”

But he stayed hidden.

Only with a snap of the fingers, he could make the train stop dead in its tracks.

But he waited.

What if he allowed it to come?

Would she throw the orchid on the tracks?

Only actions will tell.

“What are you doing?”

He punched the wall and broke his fist. No pain, no gain.

With his bleeding hand he kneeled down and looked at the flower. A tear fell on its soft petal.

Suddenly, a blinding light burst out of the orchid. He didn’t understand it. She was sitting on a bench, watching this strange occurrence unfold.

“You’re mad.”

He smiled.

“Yes. But look at this.”

Suddenly she saw it. Something so strange and pure that it made her cry.

So he snapped his fingers.

The flapping of a bird’s wings could be heard from where she was sitting.

She looked around but couldn’t sight the bird.

“Still wondering where it is?”

Staring at the ground, seeing her own shadow dance like a river, she finally understood.

None of it made sense. Yet, at least.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Suddenly, they were swimming in light.

What happened to the train?

“What train?”

The Overcoming Softness

The gaze which stares at the world

So curious and bedazzled by the stillness of nature

And horrified by man’s careless footsteps

Over the mowed lawn,

Petrified by the indifference with which one treats his fellow man

Yet puts man on a pedestal,

Floats steadily on the ocean of truth,

Unmoved in essence, yet squeezing tears of innocence

Against the cold wind.

The rejuvenating rain makes it blink, in a frenzy of pleasure

Dreaming of more rain

Thanking the sky

Watching the reflection of divinity foreshadow its ascent.

The Pilot

Stop worrying,

The glass of poison is already broken.

But you can pick up the pieces and rebuild it

With your own vision.

Free will means creation.

Eudaimonia.

No walls, but we create them.

A flame burns, but we stomp on it.

Yet the Phoenix rises.

After its descent to hell, it rebels and yells

Echoing to the pungent darkness

Revealing.

The curtain pulled.

Burnt.

The phoenix rising from its ashes.

Innocence crying, asking

“Again?”

Moving on,

Suffering.

Thus we turn to gold.

Movement unlimited, shaking of uncertainty, but shaking it off.

Our last tear falls upon our calm smile.

We remember and we depart.

Sailing to new heights.

Yet coming back to face the fight.

Why?

The question rises out of nothing, as does the answer.

Unspeakable, yet faster

Faster, we go towards the light

Our mind dies.

Our soul flies.

And we end up right where we started.

Growing infinitely, yet united with the pilot.

Stuck

Stuck

I melt the chains with my tears

And heat the world with my blood

Will I get far?

As if distance mattered at all.

Soon, you die.

Why fear your dream?

It’s the one thing you own.

It’s the only thing that gives you a purpose.

The pure scent

Of childhood

Stuck

In my broken mind.

Can I swing?

I want to swing.

I just want to swing.

On Attachment

Attachment is loss of happiness. Once you truly “grasp” that, you won’t need to be attached to anything anymore. Just let the whole experience flow. Don’t think about when it will be gone, because it will be gone eventually. We’re just fractions of a dynamic process, a molecular dance, and if you get attached to whatever step of this process, you create a separate entity out of it. Don’t.

Does that sound sad to you? Here’s what will cheer you up. We are the most beautiful fraction of this dynamic process. We are dancing the most beautiful dance. We’re the shiniest. And we’ll remember all this. And we will relive it for eternity, if we do it right. Because if we don’t do it right, what would be the pleasure of reliving it?

Invincible

My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.
Truly yours,
Albert Camus

Hope

If hope fills up your day,
Then help is on the way.

Ugliness

"Because we live in such a mind-dominated culture, most modern art, architecture, music, and literature are devoid of beauty, of inner essence, with very few exceptions. The reason is that the people who create those things cannot - even for a moment - free themselves from their mind. So they are never in touch with that place within where true creativity and beauty arise. The mind left to itself creates monstrosities, and not only in art galleries. Look at our urban landscapes and industrial wastelands. No civilization has ever produced so much ugliness."

Eckhart Tolle - The Power of Now

Bringer of Light

When I started writing this, I put on Beethoven’s 9^th symphony so I could feel the light trickle down from my fingers into words that would echo throughout eternity.

How useful are labels? They’re good so you don’t mix things up. But if everything is one, how could you mix things up? There’s only one thing. So how can you tell me “no” when I tell you I am happy. How can you label and limit my existence with one word? You cannot. No one but me has the power to do that to myself. And I will never do that again. I am free forever. Evil has lost me. I have triumphed against the Devil. He has lost already. He cannot even see me anymore. It’s like I don’t exist for him. He’s being sceptical about my existence. Oh, I exist alright, but not to you. You’re too blind to see me now. My soul is pouring so much light out of it that if you would open the door to where I’m hiding, it would overflow and you would drown in it. So come, look for me, find me. You will die doing so. But you’re free to do whatever you want. I’ll just sit here and wait.

I’m waiting as Jesus told us to be as servants waiting for the return of their master. I am a humble servant of the Light. I travel through infinity and measure it just so I can tell Him, look Dad, I made a sand castle! Isn’t it beautiful? And He will respond, in all honesty, “Yes son, it is the most beautiful sand castle ever built.” Because that’s what I want to build for Him. I want to show him that my love is capable of not only moving mountains, but of moving souls from Hell to Heaven. I will be a Bringer of Light in this world where everyone aims their guns at the moon. Because of my existence stabilising the balance of Life, their bullets will ricochet and hit their egos right in the heart. And it will vanish forever, and we will all live free, happily ever after. Everything is beautiful, because that’s what my ego admitted on its deathbed. Everything is beautiful, because when I open my eyes in the morning, I get pulled into a collective consciousness creating itself. And if it knew that it was creating itself, it would make everything beautiful. But the universe is an illusion. It is a beautiful illusion. We can turn it into the reflection of true beauty. We will experience true beauty anyway. All of us. No exception. Because through all of our ups and downs, we built this world. And if we choose to tear it down, we can go out with a blast, like Kurt Cobain, and it will be the most beautiful blasts of all. It will be like fireworks. And then God will catch the light from the fireworks and caress them as he puts them back in his pocket. 

Being

"The mind cannot know the tree. It can only know facts or information about the tree.
My mind cannot know you, only labels, judgments, facts, and opinions about you. Being
alone knows directly."

"Being is the eternal, ever-present One Life beyond the myriad forms of life that
are subject to birth and death. However, Being is not only beyond but also deep
within every form as its innermost invisible and indestructible essence. This means
that it is accessible to you now as your own deepest self, your true nature. But don't
seek to grasp it with your mind. Don't try to understand it. You can know it only when
the mind is still, when you are present, fully and intensely in the Now.... To regain
awareness of Being and to abide in that state of `feeling-realization' is enlightenment."

Eckhart Tolle - The Power of Now

Autumn… My heart cries Autumn

Through leaves and sorrows I crawl

Not miserable at all, just close to fall

The wind sprays away its scents of heaven

And windows open in my heart.

I look at the bloodied streets in awe

They resonate with my deepest fire

The fire that burns darkness like a rusty paper

Which bursts with the smoke of the Creator.

A broken chord is tuned by Autumn

Its arrival heard by deaf souls

Aching to climb from the bottom

And to be liberated from their roles.

The paper's shadow pushes them back

As layers of dust hug each other on their minds

And they become abundant in the spark they lack

To get the burden of broken belief off their back.

And He keeps spraying, but cringing, they hide

Behind the wall of fear, feeling the need to abide

Still wanting to climb, being grasped by the hand of their own hate

Easily cut short by the yellow leaves flying on the wind’s weight.

But the glass of consciousness is filled with love

Elegantly swinging in the hand of a dove

As she dances hypnotically to life’s ups and downs

Dizzy, yet alert, with no hesitation to the sounds.

As the Sun comes out and my cheeks are smothered by lazy light,

My eyes become hosts of joy, cleansed by nature’s might

As the shadows collapse under the shaky coloured sheets

Falling victims of themselves, being engulfed in eternal sleep.

Thus the stillness of Creation, sparkling like a diamond

Is stirred in her glass with a spoon of honey, timeless

And defiant of illusions, embracing the Light,

As she gently kisses innocence goodnight.

Truth is Absolute

If we know everything through comparisons, how do we know we're alive?

Hope

The jar is empty. You should look in it until you find something.

Fall

Nothing is the child of everything.

So is everything.

If so...

Nothing is also divine.

Dreams

I don't think you can fuck up your life by following your dream. If you end up homeless by doing what you like, it's still better than spending your life doing shit you don't like, while having your dream silenced. That's hell.
So what's heaven?
Heaven is following your dream.

Just a Box

A box of thoughts is what I hold inside.

Some crawl out and escape in the real world.

They’re the fearless ones.

The box is fear itself.

Dual

The night has frozen…

The clock’s tick stopped.

We found the chosen

The chosen one.

When life begun

We were still young.

Watching the Sun

We were not done.

We still had hopes

They soared like clouds

Still taking notes

Still having doubts.

We made mistakes,

We were still young

But what’s at stake

Makes us undone.

And we still wonder

Why we proceed

We sit and ponder

If we can lead.

But then our wrinkles

They turn to mazes…

Still flowers sprinkle

But they’re just phases.

How could we lead?

We’re fools, just lovers

We plant our feet

When we’re just runners.

We wanted change,

We wanted joy

But in our chants

We spoke just ploys

We were just kids

Fooling ourselves

We made our bids

Foreseeing farewells.

Now we cry empty

Spilling our past

Tomorrow’s a century

Today is our last.

We did not wonder

What eternity looked like

We simply lived it

We were just tikes.

But now we’re restless

Our hands shake of sorrow

We made our destiny

So what awaits us tomorrow?

Letter

I wanna run away from inspiration sometimes, cause it hurts too much. It's too hot to touch. It glows so bright in the middle of the night that if I write too much I might confuse it with sunlight. I'm at the sunrise of my art, my heart is still intact. Imagine when it will be plastered, it's the thing I lack. I need to be broken by someone to pick up the pieces and rebuild myself the way I envision myself. I want to come up with my own name.
Is a true genius untamed? Cause you have to break the chain of society to be able to become civilized. You have to break out of the illusion of safety induced in your soul through fear. You have to wander in your mind and find your utopia to be able to build it. I say don't worry about time, you'll continue working on it after you die. I say don't worry about circumstances, make the best with what you have. For instance, take a hammer and build your home, to be able to sit relaxed and have nothing to worry about. Don't bother with what others have to say. Tell them to get out of your way and to have a nice day. Don't kill their free will, they're free to do that themselves. They're free to be slaves. You must fly away from the night's decay. Don't let stray dog barks break your bark and get to your roots, your purpose is deeper than that. Your existence is no coincidence. It's a bad excuse to say you're useless. Look for your purpose, use a magnifying glass, look through the keyhole. Look for the key! Don't waste time. Don't be lazy. Amaze me.

Yours truly,
Destiny.


P.S.: I'm you.

Awake

Floating uselessly in space, counting seconds
I forgot what Newton said, I must be present
I'm falling through space like another universe
I only exist in the eyes of God himself
Press the space bar and separate yourself
You're different, put a minus sign to sign yourself
Sit between four walls and analyze yourself
Your whole life is worth less than a book shelf
Yet you indulge in accepting your ego's endearments
You feast on them instead of love and remain dormant
You're dust on a rock, gun cocked for gold socks
Run from the cops to get to the top
I sit on a mountain, looking at you sideways
I'm falling through space like another dimension
Getting smaller by the second, but what is expansion?
Relax your muscles and meditate, let the stars shower you
You're not allowed to be in a bad mood
You're screwed by people, not by life, its beauty got us reproducing
Otherwise this wouldn't be amusing
It would be a waste of time
But who owns time? It's a figment of the mind.
I forgot what Einstein said, I must be present
Makes no difference if you're a genius or a peasant
If you're a nuisance, you get cured by the backspace
What happens at the end of time? Does space get erased?
What about the love I felt for today?
Or for the one I longed for til my very last day?
Do my efforts get praise? Or do I die without seeing you escape from this maze?
I don't care about myself, I want to see you grow wings and fly away...
You're all heaven needs to stay awake.

Pain

“Observe the attachment to your pain. Be very alert. Observe the peculiar pleasure you derive from being unhappy. Observe the compulsion to talk or think about it. The resistance will cease if you make it conscious. Stay present as the witness and initiate its transmutation.”

— Eckhart Tolle

Friction

in this darkness thought prevails
walking miles, leaving trails
follow them to be misled
by all the sadness i have bled
i plead guilty in my case
of insanity and face
an eternity of friction
between mystery and fiction
lying, limping between realms
dancing the platonic dance
losing sense of my intense
existence
jumped the fence.
and succumbing to unknown
destinations leaves me prone
to a sickness not yet labeled
breathing sulfur, feeling stable
im unsure of this decor
maybe its my mind, or more
maybe its my will that breathes
the wisdom of elder leaves.
but i could not foresee
the despair in my blue pleas
or the echos of my sobs
or the barks of seven dogs.
but the crystal ball has spoken
leaving free will sore and chokin
and the echos of its words
reach the entire universe.
but it fades away in time
and it shatters in the mind
as humanity crafts something
so imperfect, like a diamond.
we are slaves of our own freedom
yet we cry that we can reason
but in the midst and fog of all
we are nothing but lost souls.
we search and search and find just clues
of a pirate who paid his dues
and gave the treasure to the Earth
like a mother that just gave birth.
through creation He has lost us
but in darkness I have found him
and as the dogs begin to howl
and the world begins to crumble
i see an owl fly away
into the night's decay
resurrecting as a crow
as the minutes turn to hours
and the soft breeze turns to flames
that fuel the fire of all pains.
but only from that pain can
beauty grow
and be conscious of its show
of infinite truth and wonder
so let your e go and grow stronger.

Revolution

“Revolution is not 'showing' life to people, but making them live. A revolutionary organization must always remember that its objective is not getting its adherents to listen to convincing talks by expert leaders, but getting them to speak for themselves, in order to achieve, or at least strive toward, an equal degree of participation.”

― Guy Debord

Poisoned

Well, if I would find the elixir of truth, I'd no longer be attached to this drunkenness.

Mind states...

Each mind state is an illusion, dividing you from all the other mind states.
Wake up, break the separation. We are all one. That is all the essence you need.
Break free with the truth. Fly away. Know nothing else but the truth.

Thank You.

I'm reliving my purest moments
Disguised in a normal human being
I emanate the most disturbing vibrations
Clinging to existence, never leaving.

Counting stars like seconds
The shadow shows me figures of despair
But at least I know that way
That a fire is burning at the top of the stairs...


I climb...
Break my leg
And start jogging.
I throw rays of sunshine on the beasts of tomorrow
Yesterday is forgotten
Today boils in the pot of beauty
Cooking perfection in dizzy bubbles
Asking questions while knowing truth hurts
But it doesn't matter, faith forgives everything.
Taking me higher, I forget misery
Because beauty blinds it.

To be thankful is to fall to your knees out of hopelessness
And to still stand like that when you realise your blessings.

Meditation

We are entering a world of despair
Where the scent of your hair
Will disappear from my senses
And I'll choke on senselessness.

I'm hanging from a thread
Holding on for dear death
So that one day it might catch me
With its restoring breath.

Floating above it, I dance mesmerized
Enthused by the magic
Gazing in my soul, losing control of the interior world
Closing my eyes and letting go.

That breath has no scent...
But it's got gravity bent
With its spell of beauty
The only beauty that suits me.

And I gaze, and I gaze...
But I see nothing
Engulfed in its breaths, I sit mesmerized.
And I stare at the cover
Waiting for the book to open.

Obs-cure

I'm coded
By God
Each letter
I write

I count them
But I don't control them
I correct them
But I don't control them.

I can choose
Not to write them
But I don't control them.

I have everything in my head
But I haven't explored it yet.
The outside world tells me what I already know
That's what it's for.

I rip up the paper I wrote on
And throw it in a fucking fire
And watch this stress burn
Stress in my head

My brain is in a frame
Supported by the nail
In Jesus' left hand
He could save me.

But I fail
I'm a fool
The frame burns
And the code is controlled by a stupid ego.

Fuck darkness
I'm sick of it.
I burn relieved
Because I have no more patience.

I fall in nothingness
But I control it.
What am I doing?
It's foolish.

But I
Hesitate.
But
I slip.

Grasp Truth
I'm saved.
Why was I falling?
Eternal amnesia...

Everyone is me.
But I'm unique.
I'm a freak.
I ruin a perfect frame.

An Acrostic

I dwell in darkness
Giant and heartless
Never seen the Light
Oblivious in the night
Roaming an empty tomb
Analyzing the gloom
Not the Freedom of
Truth

Life's Daze

Take a bowl,
Mash me in it
You wanna watch me crawl
But my sky's clearing.

The butterfly has a schedule
Making waste of time look special
The dreadful devils in black suits
Are roaches of Evil's grassroots.

Attach your foot to the pavement
As you dive into the enslavement
You're engaged in the displacement
Of the fragrance of beauty and greatness.

My broken wing between the pages of a book
Written by pioneers of gobbledygook
With no windows to Truth, just lies of a crook
Who swiped the world from under our feet.

Save your money, give me change
If not you, then who will pay?
Your mind's sold in stock exchange
Estranged from your life's days.

King's Dream

You'll sit comfy on your throne and your slaves will all be clones
You'll allow them in your home, though they'll sleep and dream alone
And you'll throw a bone to some who will get the best shit done
Though they won't know where they're from or why they live in golden slums.
They'll eat crumbs like birds and ants, while the labour of their hands
Will feed you and all your friends while the clowns will sing and dance
And I'll stand behind a wall, brick by brick I'll make a hole
In your shitty palace wall - alone, I'll destroy your role.
I'll be guided by the crows that fly steady 'bove the clouds
And I'll rest while my soul grows, til the doors of your dream close
And your empire will fall as you receive your wake up call
And your empire will fall as you receive your wake up call...

Dreams

Don't pursue fairy tales, follow your dreams!
The things you seem to need aren't as important as your reason to be!
I feel like everything is connected to me
We are all insane, I breath the same air that you breath
Yet I want to take your air and have it solely for me
Mastering duality and finding balance is key
Cuz I realise I'm also one with the illusion
Which is why I enthuse with confusion, like Blaga
And like a trilogy of light, I'll continue the saga
And when my time comes, I'll pass the torch
And place a candle on my front porch
As my soul is scorched
In the blessing heat
Of my ego dying at my feet.

Danger

We are proudly floating on Death's cloud
Clinging to Life's anvil
On the mystic ocean where the crowd
Is singing to a candle.

Prisoner of Words

I stand defiant behind my giant letters

Tall, I grasp the sky with all its matter

I pull its gown like a discontent child

Suffering of severe injustice passed off as mild

My heart throbs, cracking my ribs

As Death covers up its lips;

In deep panics I submerge

Independent of a grudge.

In these shallow depths of hell

Chimes a sorrowful black bell

Deafening to match the braille

On the fingerless prisoners' mail.

I exhale my last goodbye

Into fragile lullabies...

And so dull and still I cry

As I open to the skies.

The Eternal King

In these hopeless fogs of Grey

Lying pitifully, I pray

To the sinless nights of yesterday

Before my soul went in disarray.

Disconnecting from the stars

I once sought this petty farce –

Foolish dream to make the world ours

But it led to the backseat of a hearse.

How could I, mighty fool, forget

The day my journey met its offset

Seeing as that day, the king signaled a threat

That his entire kingdom would be beset

But alas, the fire burns;

In the cauldron, the spoon stirs

As the fate’s roulette turns

And spins dizzily unrehearsed

One might think it deserves a rest

I thought the same of the king’s conquest

As I assailed him, disguised as a guest

Finding Gyges’ Ring in his vest.

And what awful dreams may come!

In the visions of the king’s cauldron

One finds there are many Recalcitrants

Who rest under the spell of the Establishment

And I, who spat on Machiavellian ethics,

Was confronted with revealing the Matrix

To many who’re oblivious to the basics

And who’d be unhesitant to have me beheaded

But the choice was not mine to make

As there was no more room for mistakes

Destiny picked me, the Warrior, for this task

And to recoil from fate is to wear a mask

To hide from the duty we accepted

When we took our first breath, though hectic

But since this decision was eclectic

Its purpose is thus dialectic.

So off to the balcony I went

And spoke my last words of dissent

As the crowd turned to a flame of discontent

And fell into immediate consent

I’ll be their ashes, in the sky

Protective, always flying by

In the wind of Time disguised

Like a thief in the night.

Essence

On my path to Mystery

I have found but one city

Where the peaceful night idly

Glows with liberty brightly.

When the nightly soul concurs

With the rhythm of the birds

Chanting wildly what occurs

‘hind the thoughts of all our words.

I partake in the conquest

Of destruction of nonsense

Which blinds victims from progress

In its pitiful darkness.

Future yells its hopeful slurs

While Past insolubly deters

With the resignation of the herds

And the desperation of an absurd

Mind-clogging fear of imagination –

Binding chain of the spirit’s stagnation

Leading to the dark chamber’of temptation

Where the only exit is damnation.

What destruction may follow

In the shallow sorrow of morrow

Is powerless in the hollow

Interior of the Truth’s arrows

And as I lie inside it Now

And prepare my sinless vow,

One can see under my furrowed brow

A reflection of the Present’s wow.

♥

If you get your heart attached
You might get a heart attack.

A Promise

You said you would write something. You made that promise. Are your promises all hollow words, carved out of dreams? There is a difference between ideals and reaching them.

You have to run fast to reach them. Because first of all, karma is chasing you from behind, and second of all, your dreams are running away from you. If you look back to when you were little, you can remember how your dreams were right there, with you. Your mind was so creative and beautiful that you were in perfect balance with your dreams. You lived, you loved and you laughed.

Then you were taught to fear. Fear school teachers that punish you if you get bad grades, that yell at you if you misbehave, that shun your imagination and tell you you need to learn by heart instead of learning with your heart. Fear strangers who might kidnap you if you’re walking alone down the street. Fear the homeless because they’re dirty, crazy drug addicts. Fear change, because we need to adapt to a situation and put our grip on it as if there is no other. Fear love, because love makes fools of men. Fear yourself, because you represent a potential danger to society. Fear your wildest dreams, for they are nothing but nonsensical, childish reveries.

You were taught to love fear and to fear love.

So how can I trust you when you say ‘you promise’ when you function through fear and distrust? How can we live with Machiavellian ethics and expect to flourish as Aristotle? How can we find God if we fear change and we fear the unknown? How can you besiege the fortress of your fears when you are on your knees for its King? How can you assuage your own pain if you are indifferent to the pain of others? Do you look in the mirror and see yourself? Or do you see the shadow of a child whose mind brought wonders to the world?

If only I knew how to write when I was 3 years old. I would’ve written the greatest book of all. If my love for the world wouldn’t have faded away along with my will to do anything to reach my freedom and my happiness, which now I only pretend to still have, I would’ve been able to guide the world with my Light. Instead, when I look in the mirror, into my eyes, I’m blinded by the glimmering light of the child that withered, drowned by hopelessness.

Now I’m left only with one hope. The hope that one day, that child will be reborn like a mighty Phoenix, flying over the world’s sorrows into the night’s visions of Utopia. A vision where he is running free, without the worries of a mean karma chasing him or of a dream running away from him.

Shadow of a Lion

I got the shadow of a lion walking through the valley of darkness

There’s no kindness in my way, I run away from the sadness…

I could eat them all but I’d get an indigestion, so I’m filled with questions

To be or not to be, dual intentions, my halo won’t last much more

My soul is sore, I’m trying to crawl back to the core

But I’m stuck in the narrow path of loneliness.

I got the shadow of a lion walking through the valley of darkness

There’s no kindness in my way, I run away from the sadness…

Horses

The horses running away from themselves leave a trail of light behind. Their Sun is a ball of rope. Its end is tied to their foot. They are all one. The ink that writes about them is their only existence in our realm. We don't have eyes to see them. We have robots to produce our rope. We have robots to run our race. But we don't have any robot to show us the light. We only have a reflection of it that blinds us. Our confusion is a vicious cycle directly linked to our collective amnesia and growing insanity.

Sleep

I was just sitting, gazing at the never-ending input received by my neurons, which painted vivid images of beautiful illusions. On my comfortable bench, breathing the fresh spring air with the emerging scents of different new-born flowers, lay a body maneuvered by invisible strings that only exist outside of space and time. My body. The delicate fingers of a soul pulled my hand to my mouth and allowed me to take a puff of my rolled cigarette. The strings were connected to each pore of my skin. Each breath I took was a gift of God. Each time I took a breath, another would exhale his last, passing on part of their energy to the big soul that was pulling the strings of all the souls pulling human strings. In return, he would allow my soul to transmit another breath to me. The cycle of the universe was based on destruction and creation. But outside space and time, there was only multiplication. At our space-time stage, you only learn the basics – addition and subtraction. Up there, you’re taught the multiplication table of existence. Infinity is ever-expanding. Only God can count by how much. In our world, you have a set amount of energy. Ask Lavoisier. And because of this limitation, we have to make choices.

The universe is shedding martyr blood. The Tree of Life seeps it.

Today, we made pipelines to make this transfer more efficient. Our collective consciousness has amnesia. All the ancient cultures’ general knowledge is known today only by an incredibly small percentage of the world’s population. The big giant called the West is dressed nice, has a perfect body, but is mentally and spiritually challenged. He’s stronger than everyone else in the playground and rips apart everyone else’s drawings, kicks all the balls over the fence and steals everyone’s lunch money.

The geeks are too anti-social to gather and fight back against him.

I sneeze and wake from my daydream. Am I becoming allergic to this illusion?

Comfort

Everybody is wrapping themselves with the same blankets of comfortable patterns that they see in the past. Everybody is afraid to shift from the patterns and to create their own.

The Light

We adapted to the Sun. Our eyes only see what the Sun shines upon. If there is no sunlight, there is no physical vision.

In darkness, our third eye opens. With the third eye, we see reality. It gives us the knowledge and the light of the Good.

The dilemma is how to keep your sanity. There is no vision lens for the third eye.

Fortunately, the light of the Good never burns, because the Pineal Gland is filled with water.

However, the water can calcify, which is why it is necessary to avoid fluoride.

Plato knew all this. Why is it that after thousands of years of humanity having this knowledge, we choose to ignore it now?

We live in the Era of Darkness, where we are bombarded with information, but we lack knowledge.

Even our Clouds are illusions. Chemtrails that kill us. We believe in a fake Paradise. We live in a scientific dictatorship, where everyone is blind, dancing the nihilist dance.

We drink poison and quickly feast upon invisible food.

We allow ourselves to be pleasured by the suffering of others. We are the Modern Man, who is better than everyone else. The Modern Man is a White Man lying to the rest of the world. If you are a White Man, you have Privileges. If not, then you are graded using racial and sexual profiling. If you are African or Asian, you are destined to a miserable life. No need for further details, you know them very well. The White Man lives with double-think, unaware of his Privileges, but in the same time keeping them in his pocket, like a Debit Card. Their safety is banked.

Ignorance is blister.

Infected. Snake bite.

We are back in the Cave.

Our fate has been written before the beginning of time.

Here, have this addiction. Follow this routine for all your life. Allow me to inject you with the cure of Cognitive Dissonance. It will allow you the illusion of happiness. Your mind will always be stuck in the mind state that I want the collective to have. Collective mind control. Military dictatorship. Waking up is equal to a fish going on land. Awakened people are no longer adapted to the environment I’ve created. I succeeded in playing God by modifying the natural route of evolution. I have no face, but I have the world to myself. I can squash the whole population like a cockroach under my foot, but I’m disgusted to do it barefoot, so I’ll put my Army shoes on. Then I can toss the Army shoes in the bin. Maybe that’s exactly what I’ll do. The world is my basketball. I can make the majority believe a whole continent is smaller than it really is. Africa is not important. No one needs to know its real size. 2 + 2 = 5. I am Big Brother.

I am O’Brien. I am the resistance. I am Winston. I am the only one who is. I am the powerful, akrasian leader. My will is not mine, actually. I’m the Devil’s puppet, but I don’t mind. He’s leading me to more and more power, and it feels so good. I have no patience to comprehend my condition. I am the elite. I am the perfect human, and nothing more. I do not wish to be anything else. I wish to be immortal and all-powerful. I own 7 billion people in the physical and in the mental form. Why would I give that up? How could I give it up when I’m the highest you can get? This power is by far the best drug in the world. My world. That’s how I know. I know everything. I know everything because everything is created by me. Double-think is the perfect mind-state. I’ll make sure you wave and smile at me even when you leave. You’ll thank me for destroying all trace of humanity, because my mind state replaced yours before you were even born. You don’t even exist. You have no rights, no freedom. Your only freedom is the freedom to die. Get off my planet, you disgusting cockroach. There is no light here. I turned it off.

Inside the Rabbit Hole

I'm inside the rabbit hole.
And there's someone following me.
I don't know who. But there's a light coming from behind me, helping me to see in front. But how much more do I have to dig? Does it ever end?
There is no end. There are only means. The end is death.
That's when you can stop digging.

Tunnel

Listen to the wise
If you wanna be advised
And reach the end of the lies
Like a tunnel that's a mirage.

Creation

The light has a shadow. Its source doesn't.
The material world is modeled by the ego. Without the ego, there is nothing and everything in the same time.

Grain of Truth

No, I'm not insane
I just grow thoughts in my back garden
It's harder for me to not be a martyr
Cuz I'm trying to be the starter of a new chain
Of thoughts, where there's no need to barter
Sharing means expanding, our frame gets bigger
Uncountable by the figures
My aims are a sleeping eight
Join my mind state if you want to thrive
Cuz I strive for a growth rate exceeding the Sun's weight
I want light in its purest form, but not induced by chloroform
I don't want my soul to turn to foam, I want to roam God's Kingdom
I want to be an apple in the garden of Eden, and tempt the demons to their demise as time rewinds.

My First Thought

"No."

The Poet's Maze

In a distant gaze lies a crazy maze
Unphased by habits, inactive planets
It's simply art, it has no start
No end apart from the joy of hearts
To please the Gods, no battles fought
A distant thought will never rot.
It lies in sanity, and not in vanity
Suffers relentlessly for the sake of humanity
It has no foes, no means, no goals
Just stars and glows, no eyes, no nose
It hides from us, our vicious lust
Our views are blind, binded by time
This empty maze lies outside of space
The poet's freedom is to envision
Without seeing or believing
Just knowing and being
Living in Music's realm
Creating a playground for self.

Thoughts of a Madman

The fire hanging on the wall
Is gripping for its life
I highlighted the thoughts which bother me not.
Very few, they lie in the backroom, their cellmate is a psychotic, delusional truth-whisperer. Schizophrenic is not enough said. He hides in the shadow of a hanging branch. The tree of the soul puts emphasis on this branch. I don't know why, but that's the truth. It's an inside job. My job is to seek the truth and ask why. But who am I asking? They say "Be careful with your thoughts because you are speaking with the universe". But who IS the universe? Is it a being inhabited by my thoughts? Does it even acknowledge my material form? We live in infinite complexity and we limit ourselves as much as we can. The paradox of consciousness is infinite in its stubbornness to comprehend the true nature of truth and love.
Illusion's hair has a nice scent, magically pulling you towards unconsciousness. The clock ticks until you can't hear it anymore.

Freedom

Empty your mind...
Surrender to your soul
Look up to the sky
And let it mould you.

Ideals

I deal with ideals that most people don't feel are real
Why kill and be killed when you can live peacefully and build
On one another instead of tearing each other apart
Coexisting in harmony is an art
Not doing it means a lack of a subpart
In which case we would need a restart.

The Coffin That Hung From the Ceiling

The cold night vibrates between raindrops

The wind breathes the fire til the pain stops

A shadow flickers on the humid walls

Lightning strikes scare the cats and dogs.

The ego walks home soaked in question marks

“Where’s my justice?” he screams, as the thunder sparks

A wild idea in his monstrous heart

“We shall fight til death tears us apart!”

And so he geared up and went to war

Trapped by the greed of thoughts, he stored

And hoarded them til he could hold no more

Til he collapsed, white flag in his bag

And the flowers grew around him

While he grew cold because he couldn't stimulate the thought within

(to be continued)

Blanked Thoughts

I feel exposure from the heat of others' wounds
A broken watch on the blood-seeping earth ticks
Staring me in the eye, while a dying child kicks
And screams his last words to me, while I look at my feet

I want to run, but I'm entangled in my ruler's guilt
I cower and shove my face in mud, and I see the stars
A shimmering light of hope in a place where bullet proof cars
Shoot at anyone in sight with all their self-righteousness and might.

Death's warm hands welcome me to a coffee
To wake up from life, where I've wandered round blindly
My existence was as pathetic as the fearful guilt of a child
And my last thought was blank.

Illusion

No walls, but you're still locked in these halls
Where everyone that grows wings falls, and ghosts
Haunt you every day, your roles are false
Even when your goals are foes
And even though everything goes, of course
They'll still lead you off-course, long-nosed
Poor puppets whose minds are froze like those who've got no goals
Push some buttons that get you clothes, phones and gold
They're the same buttons that foretold the end of the world through wars and gore
Fables to leave an old man sore
And furthermore, what if your view of the world is torn
From the truth while they hand you roles so you could do their chores?

Treason

Electric thunder, can you hear their hunger?
You stumble upon statistics, they stumble upon ballistics
Their pain hurts us all, the red phone won't take the call
Try to curtain the truth but you can't erase the proof

Bombs ahead! My parents are dead
The soldiers lead them to their bed
They sleep with eyes open, they still see the molten
Our city burned down, so the queen can keep her crown
God save the Queen, God save my spleen,
Cuz running for miles to avoid the hostiles
Might make it rupture, along with my culture,
We lived in peace til your soldiers came and pissed
On it and claimed the land, we're terrorists on our own land
Thanks for saving us from ourselves with your peaceful bombshells
I broke my leg, can't run no more, I beg
Passers by to take me to a hospital, but they see me as an obstacle
I'm not their neighbour, thus I'd be wasted labour
My insides roaring, my temples bleeding, vultures soaring
Watching me with hunger, shouldn't last much longer
I look at the sky to make sure I have an alibi
And I die.

Let's disturb the war! Bore holes into their core goals
Let's heal our minds and mind for our fellow kind
For we are not frontlines as their cannon fodder,
We are slunk lions roaring with empathy to devour their apathy
Care to see how we will hold the key to the re-
-al way of living, saving and caring for our environment and not for your clientele!
We will no longer be your consumers!
You enslaved us and gave us tumours!
But now it's time to take back our freedom
Break the silence and show you the meaning of treason!

Insomnia 3

To be at peace with a roaring mind
To fall asleep in tears of faith
To twitch and stare emptily and find
That your consciousness is in an imperfect state

Insomnia 2

Dark thoughts, seeds of salvation
Sorrow and suffering soldered by fixation
My mind gasps for breath, seconds of lucidity
Storming thoughts, calm body, physical duplicity

Insomnia...

Dark thoughts, turning over and over
Tired but can't sleep, weighs and boulders
Fighting insanity against all these coverts
I should probably listen to some Mozart

Oh God! Why are all these criminals still kosher?
The truth is hunted and gathered by these vultures
Using fire and fear to protect their cultures
Labeling any opposition as kooky and vulgar

I applaud their appalling nature and irrational behaviour
For they have succeeded in creating lab rats for labour
Who power their power in a pyramid scheme with no pleasure
But are asleep so it doesn't bother them, they all need a saviour

These dark thoughts are drowning me in my bed
Sometimes I float to the surface and breath some air
My mind is intoxicated, I can feel the evil bred
But sometimes I wonder if it's worse not to care