Sunday, January 5, 2014

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.




Friday, December 20, 2013

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?

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

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?”


Saturday, December 7, 2013

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.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

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.

Monday, December 2, 2013

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.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

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.