The wind in my face. A full moon somewhere behind and above my head. The sand and rocks bathed in a shade of dark blue. When will the dream end? When will we know what we have forgotten. Ships in the misty distance, their hulls drowned under the horizon.
We twist and turn inside, like larvae preparing to hatch. Butterflies or mosquitoes?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Double Slit
The triangle of dreams, hope and reality stretches apart. Its shadow falls on the ground of our consciousness; collapsing dimensions. We are only what we want to be. We are not who we choose as friends out of courtesy, but those who we make as enemies out of principle.
The illusion of choice flies through the cool night sky, high above - like the aurora on another planet. We sin to survive, and live to be judged. A measure of one soul's worth, we choose to live on a whim.
The distance between knowing of something, and actually knowing it; the theatre of life with its stage squeezed in-between.
Remember what you do not remember. Know what you cannot know. Perhaps some day you may yearn for the privilege of suffering.
The illusion of choice flies through the cool night sky, high above - like the aurora on another planet. We sin to survive, and live to be judged. A measure of one soul's worth, we choose to live on a whim.
The distance between knowing of something, and actually knowing it; the theatre of life with its stage squeezed in-between.
Remember what you do not remember. Know what you cannot know. Perhaps some day you may yearn for the privilege of suffering.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Pink Black and Blue
Somewhere beyond the musical notes and the sounds that reach my ears, something resonates. Pure tones, like a see through silk curtain gently flowing open in a delicate breeze. It comes from a place I recognize but do not remember.
Tantalizingly close, like the bright sky before sunrise. I know it's there, but I don't know if it'll ever come. Perhaps after we die, we'll know the truth. Maybe it's where we're all headed. Maybe it's where we all came from.
A man smiles, the blood still dripping from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. The numb throbbing pain is far away from him. He squints in the distance to see the sky in the horizon broken open by a bright red gash of sunrise. He says he isn't brave. Bravery would be if he faced what he feared, and smiled. He smiles at death; he isn't afraid. They should have threatened him with something he cared about.
Tantalizingly close, like the bright sky before sunrise. I know it's there, but I don't know if it'll ever come. Perhaps after we die, we'll know the truth. Maybe it's where we're all headed. Maybe it's where we all came from.
A man smiles, the blood still dripping from the gunshot wound in his shoulder. The numb throbbing pain is far away from him. He squints in the distance to see the sky in the horizon broken open by a bright red gash of sunrise. He says he isn't brave. Bravery would be if he faced what he feared, and smiled. He smiles at death; he isn't afraid. They should have threatened him with something he cared about.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Apocalypse 2D
Dark clouds gather as people stop and look towards the sea. The mind does not see what the heart can recognize.
A deep pothole masquerading as a shallow puddle, they all wait for rain.
The storm blows with all its might - nature's calm show of force; a hint of hidden violence yet to be unleashed.
Scatter! Run for shelter! They scream with impotent rage.
Around the corner, alone in a green field, a man at peace smiles.
A deep pothole masquerading as a shallow puddle, they all wait for rain.
The storm blows with all its might - nature's calm show of force; a hint of hidden violence yet to be unleashed.
Scatter! Run for shelter! They scream with impotent rage.
Around the corner, alone in a green field, a man at peace smiles.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
The Four Pillars of Life
Maslow would be proud. His hierarchy of needs stand as firm as the pyramids they're drawn as. Damned be you perpetual optimists, I have seen what life is. When you witness what I have witnessed, live what I have lived, you will believe what I believe. Everyone is rational, given what they know.
There are the fucked up things in life. These you despise. These are the ones that make you wonder what you did if there's any justice in this world. They make you regret having ever existed in this miserable plane.
There are the wonderful things in life. Few and far, but they're there. Like mangoes, hot showers, fast cars and the smell of aloe vera. The fucked up things far outnumber the good things in quantity and frequency. The good things, well, they're just good enough to make up for all the fucked up shit that goes around.
Then there are the fucked up things that can happen in life, do happen to others, and may happen to you. The possibility of these is enough to ruin some days.
Then there are the awesome things that can happen in life. These sometimes happen to some people, and may happen to you. Or you may go through life and never have one of these happen to you. These are the things you see in dreams, in sunless cloudy dead-silent places. We make movies about them, yearn for them. The possibility of these happening is what makes us get out of bed and face the day.
Damned be these dreams with their foolish hope. They will be the end of me.
There are the fucked up things in life. These you despise. These are the ones that make you wonder what you did if there's any justice in this world. They make you regret having ever existed in this miserable plane.
There are the wonderful things in life. Few and far, but they're there. Like mangoes, hot showers, fast cars and the smell of aloe vera. The fucked up things far outnumber the good things in quantity and frequency. The good things, well, they're just good enough to make up for all the fucked up shit that goes around.
Then there are the fucked up things that can happen in life, do happen to others, and may happen to you. The possibility of these is enough to ruin some days.
Then there are the awesome things that can happen in life. These sometimes happen to some people, and may happen to you. Or you may go through life and never have one of these happen to you. These are the things you see in dreams, in sunless cloudy dead-silent places. We make movies about them, yearn for them. The possibility of these happening is what makes us get out of bed and face the day.
Damned be these dreams with their foolish hope. They will be the end of me.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The Death of Sleep
Sleep is pointless.
Life over death on a whim. Sitting with my back resting on the trunk of a content Oak, the air filled with a green smell as I watch the sun set. Orange and yellow, a gentle breeze blows into and over my face, the familiar patterns emerge twinkling in the dark blue sky.
When one night's sleep gives enough strength to withstand the next day's burden. When you realise eternity is not just for the afterlife. A moment alone, to be aware of all our senses. To become them, to forget them, sets us free.
When sleep is the only escape, like water quenches thirst. When you can count on the finger tips of one hand the number of thoughts that keep you alive. The weight of two whole universes - not coincidentally the distance between your dreams and reality.
Sleep is pointless, we only wake up to our troubles again.
Life over death on a whim. Sitting with my back resting on the trunk of a content Oak, the air filled with a green smell as I watch the sun set. Orange and yellow, a gentle breeze blows into and over my face, the familiar patterns emerge twinkling in the dark blue sky.
When one night's sleep gives enough strength to withstand the next day's burden. When you realise eternity is not just for the afterlife. A moment alone, to be aware of all our senses. To become them, to forget them, sets us free.
When sleep is the only escape, like water quenches thirst. When you can count on the finger tips of one hand the number of thoughts that keep you alive. The weight of two whole universes - not coincidentally the distance between your dreams and reality.
Sleep is pointless, we only wake up to our troubles again.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Wasp's Pride
A bit more narcissism and self righteousness today. We all do what we must to survive.
The stars twinkle with sharp clarity in the cold, crisp winter sky. Contrails in the moonlight, slight frost in the grass. A giant TV billboard bathes the army check-post around the corner in cyclically patterned light. Sirius shies away from the moody artificial sun. As Orion lazily reaches over the meridian through the thick amorphous cloud of double apple smoke, death occupies my mind.
Do not hate or love that which you do not understand. You cannot hate what you truly understand. But to love is not to understand. Beware, he says; to understand me is to become me. Save yourself with hate.
I fight my battles in another place, far away from the sound of your dreams. Here, I have only the warm, sweet embrace of madness. I whisper in its ear; "Not yet".
The stars twinkle with sharp clarity in the cold, crisp winter sky. Contrails in the moonlight, slight frost in the grass. A giant TV billboard bathes the army check-post around the corner in cyclically patterned light. Sirius shies away from the moody artificial sun. As Orion lazily reaches over the meridian through the thick amorphous cloud of double apple smoke, death occupies my mind.
Do not hate or love that which you do not understand. You cannot hate what you truly understand. But to love is not to understand. Beware, he says; to understand me is to become me. Save yourself with hate.
I fight my battles in another place, far away from the sound of your dreams. Here, I have only the warm, sweet embrace of madness. I whisper in its ear; "Not yet".
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