Friday, November 12, 2010

Lightbringer

No matter where one chooses to lose themselves, it's all valid.
Time goes at normal speed only when we are deeply shocked and brought back to our senses. Then each moment is rich with gravity.
The wine of understanding is the blood of stones themselves.
There are no mistakes.
There are no meaningless days.
Don't let yourself be lost between someone's thighs because you have nothing better to do.
Don't let yourself be fooled; most things you buy and most things you do count for shit.
Yet every little helps.
Time is just another tool in God's toolbox.
So much pain, so many times repeating the same things over and over again, so many lives of going through the same things for what?
The red eyed bunny has no answers as it is crushed between the wolf's jaws, no more than a human has answers when shot to death in a dirty street for reasons they do not know.
Life is cheap.
Life is priceless.
Each death, written in a bland book, is no more than statistics.
Each death experienced on a personal level is nothing but a full fledged tragedy.
Can't you see?
There is no actual line. No distinction.
Each person you meet is yourself.
Greet them with a smile.
Take some time to listen.
There are no mistakes and no meaningless days.
Discover the meaning for yourself.
Be brave and shine, shine from your deepest core to the outside.
Shine till you burn.

Monday, November 08, 2010

Beautiful





This pretty much proves my belief the human body can unfold like a flower... If we could take the time to actually not look, but SEE...

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Peruse

Re-reading stuff here in the blog.
Surprising myself sometimes with the validity of my written speech.
Yet no words can describe the colour of your hair.
No description would ever do it justice.
Black.
Always black,
firing blanks at your shadow.

And the smiles, and the hypocrisy, and the questioning looks she gives me.
All while pretending innocence and genuine care.
You can have him. He's all yours.
He's not mine
He's not yours
He's not his either,
pity.

Beware of Greeks bearing presents.
And gifts fashioned in the green mist of jealousy are the worst to receive any day.
Yet I accept them.
And she thinks she wins.
No-one wins
no-one loses.
God is playing dice at a cheap bar.

You both lose.

I know the one for me.
He's mad.
I know the one who made me what I am.
He, too, is mad.
It's only fair that he'd be the fairest of all.
No such thing as coincidence.
The serpent inside my spine unfolds.
My wings open slowly.
Painfully.
The dice come into my hand.
My turn now.