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.
Monday, April 29, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
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)
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