Fragment

I can feel my cells tingling in a frenzy of confusion and longing for your presence, because your absence got them scattered across galaxies looking for you. I feel distant from myself without you. I’m not here.

But when I’m confined in your eyes, I feel freer than in any conceivable utopia. I allow your gaze to consume my flame because I know that I have to keep your soul warm. This is just a preparation – an exercise. We are evaporating symbols of the fog that haunts us in our deepest sleep. It’s confined in dreams we don’t remember, because we’re too busy deafening ourselves with music that seduces and sedates us into non-being. We are the result of a long, hard battle fought against ourselves, and for millennia, we’ve been barely winning.

Here, stay here, or I will reel you in with question marks. I eat up my syllables hoping to grow wiser. You’re the only one I’ve Found.

I’m the lava that decided to breathe, knowing it will freeze by doing so. Its only relief is that it passes on its heat into something that solidifies as an eternal statue, transcending its yell of defiance and reaching the bliss it could never have in its state of unstirred passion before its release.

Love Confined This Spider to Freedom

Midnight caught me at my desk listening to Latin American music, looking at your beautiful big purple crystal for inspiration. Rene Ferrer is singing, and Picasso’s Old Guitarist on my wall is playing his guitar in a spontaneous rush of ecstasy.
Love can’t be counted. Lies are counted.
Love is felt. And the world knows nothing of what that feeling means to me.
That is why I write. You – my tangible mirror. Found me and grabbed me into your universe. I felt your touch and it confined my prison.
It made me wake up (not then, but it happened now, as I’m writing this; still a consequence of that touch!) to the fact that right now, I’m only writing drafts. The images I’m conjuring in my passion are but archetypes with a few webs sown between them. The writing – its external form – is the web (still in its youth). Each word that describes an image is an end of the web, a knot.
To he who has never loved: Behold thy sin! Your heart is free of you! It runs away from your illusions and awaits you at the end of the tunnel you keep on building.
If you want to find it, look behind the web.

Fulfillment

Advice for a friend

Q:  How can one know that one is evolving, in any sphere - spirituality, mysticism, being a nice person, achieving something etc. ?

A: You're always evolving. The matter comes down to how you interpret the processes of your evolution. What I mean by that is, everything in your life is an evolution, because life itself is a becoming, and each moment is a "becoming", where the only important factor is YOUR free will, how you choose to perceive that moment, regardless of the positive or negative appearance of the moment. "The problem is not the problem, the problem is how you choose to react to the problem."
So you can track your evolution by seeing if you react wisely to each situation presented to you on a day-to-day basis. Always remember that each moment is a lesson, a "test" if you will. And if you pass the test, you evolve, if you don't, the test is rescheduled and you're given more preparation time.

Where Dreams Grow

Warm tears to water the soil under my eyelids… where dreams grow…

The only thing standing between us is the rainbow built by the sun’s rays. A bridge between our souls, a playground for us to slide on… mixing colours together to leave behind a more diverse universe… Each smile is a half-moon and decades fly past us in seconds… It’s actually us flying past them…

Faster, away from time and space, we fly.

Matter is nothing but a cluster of complex layers of shadows – a cloth blurring our sight… A cloth that clings like ivy and wraps itself tight over our eyes like skin…

But once we shed it by shedding our light on it, we discover ourselves to be the only reality there ever was.

Always us…

Once the tidal waves fill the symbols on the shore with water, bleeding their brilliance over the moon’s reflection, spilling the world’s secrets to its guardian angel, we will conquer our mind’s confusion and find comfort in each other’s eyes alone…

Need will be erased from our vocabulary and all pain will become bliss in our Heart.

I found you, as simple as that.

Forever, I found you.

Each time, over and over.

No decay, just becoming.

Rebirth until death extinguishes itself.

Tonight, I cried with the moon’s reflection in my eyes… And the moon cried back and bled its silence to mourn my death’s death.

And the world was transfigured before my eyes. I saw what the oceans were hiding and cried another ocean… The universe has its ways of concealing its inmost built-in secrets.

All songs end in silence… The most beautiful silence. The same silence that has our gazes entangled.

Where will I find you after the Flood?

I wish I could keep these tears embedded with your reflection forever…

I’ve waited all my life at the gates of Mystery alone…

Now, I finally have someone to wait with…

Their opening is certain… It is the symbol of certainty itself. But it is up to us not to enter alone.

Will you hold my hand when our gaze slips within itself?

Will you meet me when we take our first breath into eternity?

This story has no ending. It doesn’t matter if I keep writing or not, it will write and fulfill itself…

Life has no conclusion to offer us, but our hearts do.

Near

Far.
I swing my heap of gold.
Into unknown territory.
It was eating me alive.
But I conquered it.
It was as if a cobra was dancing on my belly while I was chained to the ground.
Funnily enough, I got rid of that feeling simply by closing my eyes.
Not by imagining I’m in some other place.
Just by closing my eyes and doing nothing.
Accepting the impending death. Come on, get on with it.
But then I opened them. And what I saw was definitely not what I expected.
I didn’t expect anything actually. I have no idea what happened. To this day.
But it happened.
And so, I must say. I am grateful for it.
For almost getting killed.
Maybe I did get killed and now I’m in a higher state of consciousness, but apparently in the same body. I don’t know.
But what I saw was that I had no heap of gold to begin with. It was all a shiny illusion.
And it was so easy to let go of it.
It was required of me to do so. Otherwise, maybe I would’ve actually gotten killed.
It was a test to see if I’m true to myself.
Well. Now I’m just sitting lazily and enjoying the snake’s dance, wondering what happens next.

Always Somewhere... Somewhere, Always

Colouring each breath, slipping on sighs, the world is a big fountain and we flow on it.

Where are you when I close my eyes? In my dreams? Physical?

I find you somewhere else each time.

Your beauty is not out there.

It’s inside.

I found it in me.

I wiped a tear on your hair and made it glow. Now my vision is blurred but I can still see the shape of eternity because it has no outlines.

Reality has no rules, love… you’re a spoon, I’m a cup and I’m filled with my love for you, and you stir it slowly, massaging all of my deepest fears to ecstasy. Finding you was the worst nightmare for my ego. It dies painful deaths each moment it’s lit by the sparks in your eyes as my soul falls down their abyss. Your rabbit hole is my favourite roller coaster. Up, down, left, right, center, the plot is like the flight of a bird with a missing wing. What a monstrosity we committed by flying. We’re not meant to fly, said the voice in the shadow. But when I turned on the light, I saw a mirror… but I could not see myself in it, because it could not contain me anymore. The mirror didn’t realise I turned on the light. But you did. And your eyes are the only place I can see my Self. When you close your eyes, I disappear. So stay awake! Don’t worry, this is a dream, and we’re both in it. And we’re leaving together.

Will you hold my hand when our breaths’ colours start fading away? Will you slide with me on a last sigh and fall with me when we get to the cascade?

I find you somewhere else each time.

I find you somewhere else each time.

I find Time somewhere else with you.

Souls

A Dreamer

loss of words

One Foot in the Rabbit Hole

"Mmm... Don't fall for me!"

But it was already Fall.
I was counting the leaves to check the time.
It was half past Eternity.
And we were in the Garden of Eden.
God forgot to kick us out.
We just hid in a bush.
Lucky for us He likes surprises...
I catch a shimmer in your eye and put it in my pocket. I heard it's good luck, plus it keeps me warm when you're not around.
"We're nuts, aren't we?"
Your eyes look careful, but behind them lies not a care in the world.
"Well yeah... I mean, we're not exactly supposed to be here."
A soft breeze finds its way onto our cheeks while we kiss, in an attempt to paint our souls to immortalise the moment.
Wind is Time's paintbrush, and we're its canvas.
The dance of the paintbrush tickles us both into an almost torturous laugh.
All it's doing is adding layers of colour to our souls, gently smoothing out the rough edges from some long forgotten past.
"You cold?"
I take out a few more shimmers from your eyes and sprinkle them around us. They just lay there, floating around our bodies, warming us up.
Slowly lifting us...
To a new sky.

Alchemy

Dreams are thoughts infused with a magical desire fueled by a higher calling to regain what has been lost, to remember what has been forgotten. The process by which those thoughts become reality is called  alchemy.

Language Within a Language

”The Paris Review” - Spring of 1982 - no.83
Stanley Kunitz (interviewed by Chris Busa) - The Art of Poetry

When They Lay Me Down

Noise

Decisions

Love is this path that demands to be walked. It’s a story that demands to be written. Every time you try to leave it, it follows you home and knocks on your door til you open. It smiles and comes in without letting you say a word, sits on your couch and starts telling you its problems, as if you didn’t have anything important to solve, like what to do with your life and how to do something without getting nudged every day by an incessant tick constantly reminding you of some promise you apparently made before you were born. Which stream of thoughts do I follow to get to the bottom of this? I tried thousands, and all lead to the same answer: I don’t know. Do I keep digging to find out if there’s any meaning to it or do I finally throw my shovel and yell “Abort mission!”? Who in their right mind would do either of those things? And who in their right mind would just sit and do nothing?! That’s what I mean by Stuck. I just want to swing, God damn it! What don’t you get?

"Reason becomes unreason when separated from the heart." - C. G. Jung

Cosmic Reverie

"The cosmic reverie … is a phenomenon of solitude which has its roots in the soul of the dreamer.

Cosmic reveries separate us from project reveries. They situate us in a world and not in a society. The cosmic reverie possesses a sort of stability or tranquility. It helps us escape time. It is a state. Let us get to the bottom of its essence: it is a state of mind… Poetry supplies us with documents for a phenomenology of the soul. The entire soul is presented in the poetic universe of the poet."

- Gaston Bachelard

Elevator

"Just let yourself fall already."
I was still afraid to open my eyes
The elevator door opened at 9:12am.  I have no idea how long I've been in here, since my phone died and I have no other way to check the time.
The only company I have is the sound of my growling stomach.
And a song stuck in my head.
I have a shovel at least, to dig my subconscious.
And a big mirror.
Too bad the light's out.
Sitting in a lotus position, it's so soothing to just...
Allow my own emptiness to consume me...
My desire is a never ending spiral, vibrating from all the pain.
Crying out for help.
"Yes, how can I help you? Yeah I'd like to find the purpose of life. Would you like fries with that?"
Fuck it, while I'm at it, I might as well fall victim of my own illusions just to pass time.
And scream.
At the top of my lungs.
It's ridiculous. I'm trapped in this elevator, where, as a kid, I'd play with the buttons.
Now, they're just staring at me, almost laughing.
I'm stuck somewhere between the eighth and the ninth.
Eight is just God who decided to stand up.
Too bad he can't reach 9 so I can get off.
I guess that's my purpose.
To figure out how to get to 9.
Laughing hysterically, banging on the walls.
The echo fades away like a riff.
Each time.
I filled my life with echos, only because they sounded good, but in the end, they all faded away.
I look in the mirror. There's someone staring at me. It's hypnotic.
I forgot who I am.
It's absurd.
I think for the past three or four hours I've been yelling "what?!" every two minutes.
Each time I throw the question, I reel back more emptiness.
I wish I had a bed.
I couldn't sleep either way. It's been years since I've slept.
What if I painted something on the mirror?
I'm somewhere in my subconscious.
If I'd start paining, I'd do it in a trance state, then wake up to a finished painting of... myself.
Whose eyes are those?
Why bother spying on me? Can't you see I'm schizophrenic?
Hey. Look at me when I'm talking to you!
Looks like I scared him off.
Even the Devil is afraid of boredom.
There's a memo glued to the ceiling.
"All you need is love."
Suddenly, the elevator falls to zero.
Fuck. I was so close.
Well, it's always fun starting over.

mixed emotions

stuck

in a cloud

with the quiet pain

in which I indulge

like a ruin.

above, a rainbow

that I keep trying to grab

and I keep falling

in these clouds

of clueless ideas.

I look up and see

two bright stars

your eyes.

like fire,

they’re the center

of an eternal dance.

I see my shadows

spinning around them

an unmistakable spark

in the abyss.

falling forever

one day

at a time.

one spark

one bright spark

and I’ll be gone.

below, two bluebirds

uniting the sky and the earth…

what a dance!

if only

I would fall already.

I don’t care

if you catch me

I’m happy

in my beautiful

misery.

so run

in any direction

the light is never far.

how could it be

if you’re it?

Time

Mourning the loss of my old friend, time

I tick with impatience on the clock named Earth

And see up above a star named fate

Prophet and sage, winking at me

Only far in the eyes of ignorance

Falling apart with each resurrection

As tears flow from them, freeing their fire

Reflecting more and more

On the clock named Earth

As it slowly turns

Towards its final hour.

Pink Floyd - Shine On You Crazy Diamond

Love

Love is not something that you fall in. Love is something you dig up yourself, fill with water, jump in and swim. And you don't just dig a hole, you dig an ocean. That you get to enjoy after you're done digging.

Will

Existence is energy moved around and expressed through will.
Terence Mckenna says "We tend to disempower ourselves. We tend to believe that we don't matter and in the act of taking that idea to ourselves, we give everything away to somebody else, to something else."
The idea here is that by submitting your will to something you don't actually want to do (i.e you want to quit smoking but you're tempted to smoke a cigarette), you're actually manifesting the opposite of your free will's real intention.
The basis is this. If you don't use your will, you don't exist. If you don't take matter into your own hands (see that beautiful expression?), you aren't actually contributing to existence.

Eternal

"The reason why the universe is eternal is that it does not live for itself; it gives life to others as it transforms."

~ Lao Tzu

Apocalypse

“The apocalypse is not something which is coming. The apocalypse has arrived in major portions of the planet and it’s only because we live within a bubble of incredible privilege and social insulation that we still have the luxury of anticipating the apocalypse.”
– Terence McKenna

Thoughts

Thoughts are immortal.

What are we building then?

Bridges, buildings, better technology?

Funny you thought that was the goal.

That’s included, obviously. Better thoughts means better exterior reality. Exterior reality is a reflection of the thoughts manifested in a certain space. But space is subject to time. Time is subject to cycles. Cycles are subject to birth and death. Thoughts aren't.

So my question is, can something eternal be the product of a mortal being?

Collective Dream

“If everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war.”

― Leo Tolstoy

Seed

Fill me
with your tears
for without them
I'm empty.

Fill me
with your love
for without it
I don't exist.

Fill me
with your suffering
for without it
I stumble in darkness.

Fill me,
fill me to the top
with every possible experience
and when I spill over
allow the soil to feed off my feelings
so that one day
someone may reap a fruit
that to me
was forbidden.

verse of unity

God did not come
in tents
or watches
God is a watchful host.
we must enjoy our time here.


(upon suddenly waking up one morning, I grabbed my phone to write it before it faded, then I went back to sleep. it came as a strange flash)

Now you see it, now you don't

A poet is like a magician. And a magician never gives himself away.

rest in peace

"He repeated until his dying day that there was no one with more common sense, no stonecutter more obstinate, no manager more lucid or dangerous, than a poet."

"It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment."

"No matter what, nobody can take away the dances you’ve already had."

"It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams."

- Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Bliss

Each moment is a now and each experience is an I. If one would transcend time and space by fully living in the now and by fully fulfilling one's unique function in existence, one would live in complete harmony with the universe.

Fulfillment

The path to uniqueness and the path to unity are one and the same.

Les Etoiles

It was written in the stars,
By an architect from Mars
That our light will shine above
Blinding light, numinous dove.

Samsara

The heart holds strong bonds with the truth. The more it is allowed to roam free, the more connections it will make.
But those connections will be severed by the mind’s search for unwitting pleasure. In a miserable attempt to mimic the heart’s ingenuity, it fails to realise that it’s causing nothing but damage. That it’s so easy to just go back to being obedient to the heart. Because the heart is a good master. It does not fool the mind. It is only the mind that is capable of fooling. The heart knows no such thing. The heart is innocent. The heart is pure. The heart rejoices in the singing of the birds, while the mind doesn’t even hear them. The heart trembles before a grieving soul, while the mind does its best to avoid being affected. We must sit straight, have clean clothes, write legibly, stick to concrete facts, as if the truth was something outside of you, alien to you. As if you’re in a dark room, trying to write an essay to God, to convince him that you’re worthy of Heaven. All this while saying to yourself, God doesn’t exist. What a silly torture! The mind trembles before truth. The mind trembles before the real "concrete facts". The mind falls down, starts stuttering and looks for an exit. The heart smiles warmly to gesture its appreciation and its love for truth. So vivid, so simple, yet so cleverly hidden in plain sight. Walking down the street, one might stumble across such a moment of clarity and of pure joy and inner bliss. But then he is reminded by the big adverts that he’s a consumer and it all becomes dust and fairytales. Blah, why do I drift off to such stupid ideas?

Black Sheep

Dream but don't sleep
Your eyes are many.
Counting the sheep.
Counting on many.

They sigh and they seek
A dream long forgotten.
To turn the other cheek
Til the day that they stop them
(The ghosts of tomorrow,
The despots of sorrow).

Their worries are many
Their problems are few.
Not knowing they're making
Boulders out of stew.

They chew and they chew
Pretending to suffer.
But deep down right under
Their heart chants their real colour.

They sweat in the dust
And cough like a smoker.
But once it's all over
They'll tire in water.

They sleep, oh, they sleep
On the dusk of their slaughter
Don't you want to see
How they'll kill all my brothers?

Terence Mckenna

"The imagination is the goal of history. I see history as an effort to literally realise our collective dreams."

"Matter is not lacking in magic, matter is magic."

"The artist's role is to save mankind; anything less is a dithering while Rome burns. If the artist cannot find the way, then the way cannot be found."

"We tend to disempower ourselves. We tend to believe that we don't matter and in the act of taking that idea to ourselves, we give everything away to somebody else, to something else."

"You have to take seriously the notion that understanding the universe is your responsibility, because the only understanding of the universe that will be useful to you is your own understanding."

"Nothing comes unannounced, but many can miss the announcement. So it's very important to actually listen to your intuition, rather than driving through it."

"There is a spiritual obligation, there is a task to be done. It is not, however, something as simple as following a set of somebody else's rules."

"I think we have a very narrow conception of what is possible with reality. We're surrounded by the howling abyss of the unknowable - nobody knows what's out there!"

"Who is to say what is real and what is not? 'Real' is a distinction of a naive mind. I think we're getting beyond that."

"Our ability to destroy ourselves is the mirror image of our ability to save ourselves."

Creating Who You Are

“And the principle is that any time you voluntarily let up control, in other words, cease to cling to yourself, you have an access of power. Cause you’re wasting energy all the time in self-defense trying to manage things, trying to force things to conform to your will. Once you stop doing that, that wasted energy is available. Therefore you are, in that sense, you are having that energy available, you are one with the divine principle, you have the energy. When you’re trying however to act as if you were God, that is to say you don’t trust anybody and you’re the dictator and you have to keep everybody in line, you lose the divine energy, cause what you are doing is simply defending yourself. So then, the principle is, the more you give it away, the more it comes back. Now you see, I don’t have the courage to give it away. I’m afraid. And you can only overcome that by realizing, you better give it away cause there’s no way of holding on to it. The meaning of the fact that everything is dissolving constantly, that we are all falling apart, we’re all in a process of constant death (…), that fact that everything is in decay is your helper. That is allowing you that you don’t have to let go, because there’s nothing to hold on to. It’s achieved for you, by the process of nature. So once you see that you just don’t have a prayer, it’s all washed up, and you will vanish and not leave a rack behind and you really get with that, suddenly you have the power, this enormous access of energy. But it’s not power that came to you because you grabbed it, it came in entirely the opposite way. The power that comes to you in a opposite way is power with which you can be trusted.”
- Alan Watts

Sound

My phone scratches the table

While an apple shrinks on it.

I tickle my cells with curious joy.

I blend in perfectly.

Connected like Wi-Fi

Sound.

I am reincarnated already.

In sound.

Bing, bong.

My laughter immortalizes me.

And friendship breaks time and space with a spatula.

What’s cooking?

The universe in a boiling pot.

God didn’t forget it, he just went to help the neighbours.

With their car.

God is a good mechanic.

Knock, knock

Who’s there?

Bing bong

Bing bong who?

Bing bong the mirror.

Pending

The parks turned to cemetaries

The office buildings, lounge bars

9 to 5 chilling,

Wearing slippers, eating salad

Mind mimicking the music.

Yesterday forgot its role

And I’m here alone...

I forgot to sleep.

Nevermind. I’m ok.

But under the slipper,

In the building’s reflection,

Carved on a tomb,

A verse from a tune –

The consequence

of our existence.

So foreign yet we’re neighbours.

It makes me sad

I’m here every day

But you’re absent

I wish I was a teacher

To send you a letter

Asking for a reason

Not to attend my lesson

If I knew it, I wouldn’t attend it either.

Elements

The dancing fire is heating my thoughts
Your shadow - a pool disturbed by droplets - keeps me wanting more
Carving infinity into an illusion, the pain in the boiling pot
My soul rusts, a breeze of light keeps it alive; my curiosity opens the door.

What's your worth? Does your mind stagnate or do you pay rent in blood?
Do you follow along like a good son biting his tongue or do you want to change the eternal song of the wrong?
Do you knock? Do you ring the bell? Or do you break in and endure the flood?
Anchored by a cloud, what goes up must come down, and it won't be long.

Your fists held back by the locks around your wrists - break the chains and float in the boiling pot
Rage followed by reason, followed by a fresh breath of mystery
Wander round or cough blood asking how or why, your mind going dry
Tis' a figment of a rock - the dirt is your world, ironic that you drown in it.

While a child unwraps an empty box, his thoughts float outside the lot
Breaking up with society, burning the pact of self-destruction, he finds the universe
A hat keeps warm but internal storms can blur the form and throw you back to the norm
Will you open your eyes to the unseen or will you relinquish it by accepting the illusion?

Failure

To those of you
Who know the truth;
So very few
Who've seen the proof.

If you dare
Conceal it,
Then your fare
Is deceiving.

Those who throw
Dirt on gold
Are the foe
Of their soul.

If you hold
A little light
Please dare not
Hold it tight.

If you pull
The curtain
Then the bull
Is certain.

Once you hide the truth
You can't wash your hands
Only pain will soothe
Your eternal glance.

let the e go

proceed
in my dream
to keep busy
until you and me
are one.

One

Awakening is when your heart discovers something.
Enlightenment is when you maintain that feeling of discovery.
Love is when you share it.

The Soul

"Astrology as a means of predicting is, as far as I can make out, of almost no value. But there was one sensible idea behind it. When you cast a person's horoscope, what you did is you drew a map of the then known universe as it was at the time this child was born, and this was supposed to be a map of his soul. What an ingenious idea! It is to say your soul is the whole world as it focuses upon your moment. Now ordinarily when we talk of souls, we think of something clad in a sheet with holes in it, like a Halloween ghost, that is kind of miasmic feature, that inhabits your body and and when you die, it leaves you. But that's not the soul at all! The soul is something which contains the body. The body doesn't contain the soul. The soul, if we put it into modern language, is the entire complex of relationships in whose context this organism exists."
- Alan Watts

Artist

Word of the Heart

The vibes boiling my blood
Not measured in temperature
But in Watts.
Alan told me he was last
I was just above average
But school's a blast.
You get to be imprisoned
So you grow up fast
Or die young
If you let your dream die
You'll shed your wings and cry
Like Serj Tankian.
Love or limp uselessly.
Live or rot for eternity.
Insane, I think not.
Your story's a joke
In the eyes of the Buddha.
You even pissed Jesus off.
But it's cool.
He forgave you.
You thought an idea could control you?
You thought a door would lock you?
You thought a paper could buy you?
Who owns you?
Bite your tongue and buy your freedom
From your heart to build your kingdom.
Inner from what Christ said.
So face the Sun and go to bed.
You'll see a bright white light
And this world will be gone.
And you'll say,
Well at least I had fun.
Now, you're in the realm of Being.
Where your heart suddenly starts Seeing.

Mystery is Knowledge, Mystery is Your Friend

I don't know. And it is this "I don't know" that is so wonderful. I embrace my ignorance. I do not cower from it. Because it is indeed by relating to your ignorance as you relate to a friend that you get to know it!

dried up

I lost you to a shadow
drowning in it
alone.

I made a mistake
I fell down the stairs.
What a perfect excuse.

My blood flows like a dying river
poisoned by indifference.
Helpless, sharing my stories with ghosts
at least they can relate.

My only prayer
written in a bottle
is my last hope.
If I'm forgotten,
my ashes will find their way
to the one looking for me.
Vibrating gray tints
crying "sorry, sorry!"

Timeless

If I could write the truth, I would.

But I can’t.

Words are simply mirrors. Nothing but mirrors.

We are not our words. Our words reflect who we are.

The truth laughs at the mind. Not a mocking laughter. A grandfather laughing at his teenage grandson's naïve rebellion.

Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back.

Why?

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock.  Come back.

This is boring!

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock.  Come back.

I’m going to break the clock!

And again, laughter.

Tick, tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come back. Tick tock. Come –

The pieces of glass sparkling through their flight, the clock's needles invisible on nature’s transparent carpet.

And again, laughter.

Followed by silence.

Followed by confusion.

What?

And again, laughter.

What now?

And again, laughter.

This isn’t funny! This is horrible! Help me! I don’t understand!

And this time, a soft laughter.

Don’t worry. You are my blood. You cannot get lost, unless that is what you choose.

But how could I not choose that?

By letting go.

We Flow Like Water

Sitting high, haunted by my higher self's sensitive taunts.
Each moment I live, I pump blood to the wishful, loving, truthseeking people all across this beautiful landscape we cherishingly call Mother Earth.
Each moment I manifest the divine essence of God is a moment of clarity for the souls in this realm, waiting to be rescued but not giving enough of their own will to deserve it. Higher and higher, my bodiless self floats across tundras of galaxies. We engulf ourselves in a scared victim frequency and wonder why we can't breathe. Just float back to the surface, where you were in the first place, before having dived in. The knowledge is within you. The kingdom of God is within you.

Follow Your Dream

You didn't do anything to deserve life.
That’s yet to be done.
And that’s the whole purpose of it.

Manifest Your Dream Through Intuition

Most people still think that following dreams is childish bullshit

And then wonder why they can’t find happiness, well no shit

You chose to abide to an illusory vision

Instead of fucking the system and following your heart’s mission

It’s your God-given gift, along with an inner voice guiding

You have infinite potential, wasted on a numbing routine

Imagine all that effort put in to build your own heaven

Just quit your job and take the risk to follow your passion

Instead of living my whole life groaning, I’d rather die laughing

So get up off your knees, face the dragon and bash him

Don’t worry what other might think, cuz their mind is poisoned

Worry what you’ll think on your deathbed, all confused and broken

Cuz you left the world without leaving behind your real legacy

And now there’s no turning back like cutting your wrists vertically

Ignorance isn’t wrong, it’s natural, no one knows everything

Self-righteous belief in a lie is wrong, you gotta stop and think

Utterance

We will not be forgotten

Lest we forget ourselves.

The tales that we have trodden

Will forever ring like bells.

Each moment we have cherished

Is in itself regained

It shows we can attain

A grain of the heavens.

Play

My mind doesn’t believe anything. It doesn’t understand its own existence either. It cannot explain anything. Thus, for the mind, all is void of meaning, for it lacks understanding of it. Is the mind, then, actually void of meaning in itself? And thus disposable?

But of course not. The mind is a wonder. What is the mind?

I wonder.

If not mystery.

Then why would God listen to it?

I’d love a show, He says.

And we play.

We act.

We paint.

We sing.

He’s sitting front row, but the light’s on us, so we can’t see Him.

This is a dream.

It feels so warm.

When are we leaving?

You can leave each moment, because each moment is breathtaking.

Manifesting beauty through a dream.

We are intonations of God.

But there are no strings.

Somehow, we have found our freedom.

This is so beautiful, I cannot comprehend it, says the mind.

Shh, says God. Just watch.

Legacy

Our physical body perishes, but our experience, if intense enough, remains like a scent in the world.

Through a tiny hole, I see the light. I’m holding a hammer in my hand, and the broken wall thinks it stands a chance against me.

Follow The Plan

You need to synchronise with what you’re looking for

Stop looking for a cure

You are the cure

The world is waiting for you to do your job

Follow your plan, intuition

Centered abyss – pupil

Reflection of ignorance

Desire to learn

Follow the plan

You’re free if you align with the truth

The truth is your passion

If you don’t follow it you lie to yourself

Stop doubting yourself

Do something.

Summer… My heart cries Summer

Tis’ summer in my heart

Though winter’s shivers spark

Taken aback by lust

Desert’s essence – dust

Whenever the mind stumbles

The heart offers its warm hand

The clumsy mind fumbles

And struggles to misunderstand.

A tear engulfs both road partners

Sliding on a lotus petal

The mind just sees the darkness

While the heart swirls around in dreams

To wake up on a rainbow.

The mind turns on the light of reason

Swollen by deceit and failure

Self-perpetuating treason

Thread of an obsessed tailor.

Boat of a hedonistic sailor.

--

Short-circuit.

- Not yet!

…

But if technology betrays me

Who is there left to trust?

Another mind?

But it’s so hard to find…

Who?

….

Who am I?

--

The boat crashes –

Flooded by the self-revealing mirror

Silence.

--

                                                   

It’s not a secret

It’s just unspeakable

Found within

(The never-ending chapter)

Each night,

The heart’s last step is bookmarked.

Allowing itself to fall –

To rejoice in mystery

And reveal itself through rebirth.

A Symptom of Expansion of Awareness

At the cognitive level, a symptom of expansion of awareness is a constant shift of attention, not as a lack of capacity to focus, but rather the fact that you notice so many things on so many different levels, and you start understanding certain things that you cannot even express, not even in thoughts. You just see a bigger picture form in your mind, but you also feel it. It’s an experience of connection with the Source. It feels like floating in your mind, looking around… looking through a lens and seeing what you would normally perceive as a kaleidoscopic image, but this time it all fits together in one piece, united, connected, synchronised and most important of all, full of meaning. It thus gives the person having the experience a meaning and a knowing that if they trust and follow their intuition, they will fulfill their purpose in life and give it true meaning.

For Words (Ars Poetica)

Words are worthless.

Graves waiting to be filled.

Shadows of matter

In a world we did not build.

Soft-spoken poets suffer

For they’re afraid of sorrow

Outspoken poets suffer

For they’re afraid of tomorrow.

Sorrow from bothering

The sickness of the departing;

The future is a new present

In which lost souls are reuniting.

The poet who surrenders

To the soft hand of time

Understands the tie

And awaits for it to unwind.

Before he says goodbye,

He hopes to have traveled at least

The distance between two hearts

So that his mind can rest in peace.

Then,

Even his shadow will dance.

Occupied

Your mind is occupied like a plane’s washroom

Absorbing all the dust and bugs like a vacuum

Got no space or time for some fresh air

Turn off the hum, undress your mind bare.

What ticket you got? We share the same fare.

Don’t you hate the stewardess’ fake care?

We could do better, oh, look at that cloud!

It looks like my dream! What’s yours? Oh, watch out!

Some guy just passed by, spilled your water all over

Hold on, I got napkins, don’t lose your composure

No need to be angry, be Zen, here’s a pamphlet

About Buddhism and how to regain your soul’s balance

Be happy, life’s beautiful, oh look at those birds!

I wish I had wings, don’t you? But of course!

When I was a kid I dreamt about flying

Now I’m a car dealer and I really like driving

You’re flying right now, silly, I’ll buy you a coffee

Look around you, folks sleeping, and one guy is coughing

But you look like you got a colourful dream

Let’s break the window and grab hold of the steam

After that we could work our way up

Grab onto that cloud and quack like a duck

After that maybe head down to the river

Flow on the stream of consciousness, be its mirror

The plane will be landing in Babylon soon

Make sure to have your seatbelts on, you baboons

Oh, this still on? Ha ha, I was joking

Don’t worry folks, enjoy your days croaking.

But I’m not a frog! I’m duck, I can quack!

Oh, shut up, you can’t, you’re falling off track!

Psst, don’t worry. Don’t listen to them.

Your path has been cleared, while they walk, you can run.

Signposts

Guide

Aspire to be what you admire to see.

Tired

Poetry, alone, is my synthesis

I miss not feeling restlessness

All my words are worthless

Experience consumes me

Followed by a comma

Where death’s mystery laughs

While someone cries on my shoulder.

My thoughts are never sober

Inflated by an ego

Breaking into the mind

Only to get a fine.

I feel blind.

No essence survives here

Nothing makes sense

Not even sense itself.

Because I’m disconnected

My eyes are skeptics.

My mind is biased.

Help me, I’m tired…

I just want to sleep,

But I’m confined to eternal insomnia.

Until my useless joy saves me again.

I wonder who gave me this pen.

I’ll pretend I made it up.

That I had some super luck

And that everything surrounding me

Is just an anomaly

Just like me.

But isn’t that funny?

Of course, because you reflect your own reality

Perceptions perceptions.

Clever misdirections.

Only one absolute truth.

It doesn’t care if you have proof.

But shall I rest in restlessness?

Does it matter? I do feel blessed

But I feel too sick of it all…

That’s why I ask if it’s all my fault.