Waking to the World


People parroting the punitive popular propaganda of the political class demagogues, should contemplate where there true voice lies. For when the political mind shifts to a dogmatic view beyond any rational and therefore reasonable question of morality. Will they in those dire straights have the voice they currently use to shout down free thought, to fight against a system no longer espousing truth, but carefully refined and cleverly designed narratives who’s aims is only total control and exhaustion of your will to stand individually and uniquely human. Subtracting your form from the framework of society, under the guise of enriching the zeitgeist; toward accelerating progress and innovation. Though they forget this is a feature of a people free to think and live in terms grounded in there own sense of self, made possible by an open matrix of expression. When will we remember this fact of the world we inherently created for all of us to partake in? Keeping an eye and a foothold on reality before the wool is pulled over all our eyes and the rug ripped from underneath our feet. If you match your beliefs instead of self generation, we will all burn up in the sweltering heat of the endless chambers of hot air.

Bloom


Who can say, when a lifes in full bloom. Do we decide, or does the world tell us when we’re set in the perfect spot. Do we sit and bask in the sun at the summit, or foot of the mountain. Is it us that casts the shadow, or do we starve in the dark overhang of another we find greater. I know what I choose, so let us all sit at the giants table, even if we are small, we all have the potential to cast a shadow a mile long. And make it so, the smallest lonely flower, atop the greatest of ranges, is the height of excellence.

Archetype


Who am i…..
Am i lost, a wanderer cast out doomed to venture further and further into the wastes of a mind only comsumed by darkness.
To have such capacity for good, and yet so demonstratively brutal a vicious intent. towards hate and artfully disseminated machinations of destruction. I have touched down where others thought not possible, to fall down a bottomless pit only to prove wrong the will of man. To be insane and realize it, truth lies in reality, lying in wait to steal unkempt breaths. fearing time, though time does not exist, but in the mind, an idea, an abstraction, a custom of knowledge, the cadence of curtailed freedoms self expression. Systemic of its intention to breed more dishonest foreboding epitaphs of humanity’s hubris. I have nothing but contempt for the human species, this race of desiccation, greed and monotony. Crude and crueler fates align, eloquently baroque beauty of selfless inhibitions, over arching narratives bleed for bleeding sake. Forgetting the one fact that stakes claim to the heart of true providence, incredulity.
Master of wanting but master of none, narrow your vision, quiet discontentment. Grasp but one thing attainable, to use as steping stones to reach the next trial that awaits.
Who is this…who am i becoming now….
I plug my ears, listening to my heart beating, and yet i can’t feel it, until i think about feeling it. Such a limited mind we have, and we expect of ourselves, to know it all. how many kilobytes of useful knowledge do we possess in this zetabyte ad infinium system we call a mind. Most can’t even string together a few paragraphs worth let alone make a cohesively affective argument. So I guess it could be said I take my literary and standard intelligence for granted; then again I’ve structured a life that can be lived with such ease, an asured fate, that any lesser mind could lead it. so if i had my persistent cumulative intellectual growth halted or even reverted back to a time i still believed in fairy tales, would it really matter. Actually it might bring me some level of peace if thats what i wanted.
Though, what do I want, what is it I’m really after when all’s said and done. What I truly want is in the course of my routine self reflection, to for once, feel that i have something concrete i can offer. When you look under the veil of who i am in the world, this mask i present, you see a depth rarely legitimate in the eyes of this world. I keep relying on my own outdated ideals, to show nothing but let be discovered the real fathoms, the unbridled elation of finding, I am more than anyone thought possible. All this has never brought me happiness. I have only known misery in this life, because instead of the intended effect of discovery of hidden ability, it has only led me to becoming an expert at subversion. And in a world where most can’t see beyond a very narrow margin, I just seem as hollow as I allowed others to see me, as a being devoid of all things, never allowing anyone to discover that, which i have become master at cloaking…….

Gate Guardians


Why do I feel like escaping so early in the morning, only to be sold on staying by the afternoon. It hurts so much this longing to be certain. The paradox of trying to hold on to the status quo, while your mind wonders beyond, reaching for more, for something new, a path of deeper meaning, one that brings greater purpose to a life gone dull, its edges blunted, and colors drained of vibrancy. Though, why do we fain such constrained fealty, to an existence growing colder by the day. Do we normalize, these empty versions, overlaying a world given a chance to succeed, a pareidolia, a phantom image, creating an environment we can tolerate. Though, in our tolerance, a languishing of present tense, rusts away a seemingly solid foundation, until, nothing is left, of the man you used to be. Do the mighty succumb to such encumbrances, or is the key to power a finding of this said certainty, yet the preclusion of nullified turbulence, can never be undone by a mere wanten desire alone. Its must take root, from base singularity to fully extended expression. So, when will I taste the delicious pleasures of fruitful ambition, learning to release my grasp on my petrifying old beliefs, and set sail, on a harsher, yet stronger current, rife with risk and danger, but in the end, non greater can be forged, but through the trials of their labours, being taken by difficulty, with the guardians at the gate of your attainment, the ghosts of all your past failures, standing as the greatest obstacles you must over come.

Horizon


Do you ever stop and wonder, is there anything waiting beyond the horizon?

I couldn’t forgive myself, if I did not try to seek, what lay passed the boundaries where my eyes can not yet see.

I feel some how, in the dead of night, when I yern for my dreams to cross over to reality, that my future somehow belongs to this land of myths and legends, that exists in the outer limits of our world.

I only ask for enough, nothing more and nothing less, but enough to be content, in a life, worthy of the name.

Forever more I struggle, to make this plea take root, in a universe, who’s star’s keep moving further away.

As I stop and pray, today will be the day…..

Lessening


I feel a hollowing of my aspects. A vampiric syphoning, bleeding me away from who I am. A concept of calamity, such a staunchly creeping apathy. Where have I collected I wondered, in these pools of settings sundered. Vision breaks at the horizons terminal condition. To vanish as all things do, passed the point of no returning. Time moves quickly when your alone, it runs like a casted shadow forced to flee the passing of the light. The only voice echoes it’s own reflection, a crowded place of mass deception. Am I Being hastened to meet some frightful finality, but by who or what?. The angels and demons the analogous machinations devised to explain away the mysteries of life’s cruelly fair yet cunning nature. As I still have a mind to bare witness, i ask to lessen me only if it will quite my sweet suffering. To not see this world as I do may be a blessing in these future trials. Though I can’t help but feel such scarcity wet my cheeks. I have me for the first time, since that dark age still lingering in my memory, unclasped its brutal grips. This homunculus in the recesses of my mind waiting to see without its guidance, what I’ll do. Is it me or is it you that lays claim to this life. Or have you always been waiting for me to say, I do?.

Noxious


What is there to think…

Always my answer is to the thing I want most, is to strike the very thoughts from your mind. It is true if you do let lingering thoughts remain in the standing water of conscious space, they become a noxious substance.

The cost of purification has it’s own mark left. Hound thine best intention nipping at the morings dew. For a jealous hoarder of caring tongues, be so contrived in its opulence. Hath sickened air ever tasted so sweet, to the languished form i have of late become.

The grayness of your personality, causes this muting of interactions. You try so hard to keep the light in your eyes, but for all your effort you only manage a single glimmer.  From whence doth this fickle outlook manifest, slithering from the creeping depths of malice.

A magnitude of hate and anger, rises to eclipse the sun. Drawing out the spaces where a love might reside. This empty wellspring of harrowing, sit and stare, watch and wonder, feed your own mouth the words a figment would possess. Interloper to the homunculus behind these eyes, a losing of a lost self’s unknown identity, a purpose given to these moments steals the potential of being found.

The lost soul drowns its sorrow with the existential persistence of the darkness. filling up its insides so as not to be forever wanting. A contentment was realised, a torment was completed. But in these days of solitary confinement, where the dreams of a dreamer fade to ash. The illumination burns the sharpened edges, returning the form back to the beginning, when the pain was to much to bear, when the strength to stand against it was never there.

Sometimes just being left in the black fathoms is enough. Still, everytime I think of what I want most, a new void opens and the darkness grows. How do i end this vicious cycle, or does the weight of iniquity fear a relinquishing of its power.

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