the remnants of hope

i see cupid about to shoot
his arrow is steady and he looks mean to boot
this time im surely screwed

thy eyes are unbeknownst to my deepest
my haunting cries of weherewithal ended
my solitude screaming for survival
it's brand image suspended

he aims at me he shoots
or at least he tries
i have dived behind a tree
but he got my ankle

it is a quite fortunate twist of fate
that Archillies wasn't me and i him
for then i'd have died no matter what glory came
and he'd have fallen hopelessly in love
with some magnamulous dame

Some hopeless witchcraft meant to trap and bound
some hopeless

huh
some hope.

Love hurts

It begins it begins
the ringing sing
of the deepest realms
the plunging upward.

knock me unconscious
with a feather.

love hurts
but sometimes its a good hurt
and it feels like im alive

ID: or why I blog

And then somewhere in january
he started a blog to vent his soul
there was fire in there that no water could perish
that carbon dioxide could not be used upon without killing his whole self
and to kill himself was not what he wanted

He was initially simply a joke
but then he got serious
and began to provoke
some deep shit

at least that's what he thought.

but he sees himself as his persona personified
as a being drunk on freedom
without the actual capacity to be free
with a fear constantly gnawing at him

that he would unwitting get close to that too close orb
that golden ball of searing heat
which will burn his wings and send him plummeting
to a death,

yes he identified with him
and his identity bore him to similie and analogy
to a safe haven? he didn't delude himself!
but drown himself in the flight of freedom he did

Breathing

He leapt into the darkness that the room plunged into when the light was switched off. He was carefree, the feel of linen releasing him into a world of clouds. Then he'd seen her face, the smile that she had worn when he had kissed her goodbye. He had said it before to himself, but she was beautiful.

Shy eyes curling in a surprised manner, maybe she was surprised at the nature of his actions in intitaiting it. She had been about to leave with a simple goodbye, but he couldn't handle that. He'd needed something more concrete. So he'd leaned forward and she'd responded. A bit hesitantly, a bit impulsively, a light brush of the cheeks, a softness he still felt.

A matchstck preserved without burning. Just because it was too stubborn to burn. A strange kind of sensation. For something so destined for one thing and one thing only, to completely refuse to fulfill its purpose.

A cigarette in the darkness, lit by the illumination of a cellphone. A blue bulb cover from a playground ride, stolen in a drunken stupor, serves for an ashtray. The smoke, wisps of silvery white, floated in the lighted shadow, breathing, he thought later, had never felt so... satisfying.

death must say goodbye

he stood there waiting for the girl he'd never seen
waiting for the world, his world
to walk around the corner
and light him up his obscene
his obscene
prose and poetry
his illiterate mind
of a moderation gone berserk
will they find out
i suppose it wont hurt

evils of a mind
collected and almost enshrined
almost but not quite
in the darkness of this cold weblog
its running down my legs now
an obscene confessional
to gape at and almost enjoy
almost but not quite

the silence it creeps between you and me.

national juris-prudence

you are cool
and i am obviously
a fool

but im not! since you're hot
i shall resist!

indeed thats my metric
to judge

the need to escape!

NO MORE!
Arhahahahahah!!

embarrassment
release
extrapolation
of nervous beliefs
of social
misadaptation

the psalms of lydia.

nevermore.

or am i just trying to explain away my grief?

of talking down my voices of reason

since they are obviously trying to commit treason

against the great nation

that is me.

Anger

The pinpoints of anger
screamed upwards from beyonder
than beyond.

in the depths of the lake of suphur
that used to be a coherent abode
of thoughts, feelings and occasional indulgence
in mental slumber

now it's on fire
unreasonable and inexpressible
disaster after disaster
rips through and abounds
in nameless anger
nameless and gormless
tactless and careless
ripping into the outer atmosphere
destroying it's mostly innocent
provoker.

I want to apologize
but i do not know
who i should apologize to.

To me?
to him?
to the world in general?
or is anger simply painted black
while its a thing of immesurable beauty
if used now and then
in dangerous circumstances?

a conundrum as an aside
boggles my mind
for theirein lies the answer
and the solution
to the mental torment
that threatens to overwhelm me
like a storm cloud that comes up
threatening a careless boat in too-deep seas

Phoenix

You
Flew,
Then you flew back,
Anew.

Yet
I know that
Like countless times before
You will fly again
Away towards the sun
Burning me in the process
Like you always do

Inhabitant

Boss
the echelons of human society puzzle me
there are despicable beings created within me that long to belong to the right circles
there are pitiful creatures of jealousy withering me from inside at the ease of others
there are criminals and demented people
there are whores and animals
yet i feel strangely drawn

i am lost
sure, you know my physical location
but
there are strange distortions in space and time that take place in your own reality
this must be a strange part of being human
to contemplate
being stuck between two worlds
being a ship stuck on top of rocks
solid in the midst of a storm

stick to what you know
and go after what you want
is the best advice i can come up with for myself

and what i want has no weight
what i want really shouldnt concern
this sidelined niche of society
yet i long secretively
self loathingly sometimes
although not too self loathingly.

if the sun is where we all fly to
then the rainbow you take to get there
does not really matter

there is something to be seen outside of every window

be it from inside a bus, merc or train

the paper dart

A fucked up paper dart
made to fly through and prick
and fall harmlessly to the ground

a piece of flimsy
a piece of light
a piece to potentially crumble
at the mere glimpse of firelight

this delusional
this illusional
bieng
of multiple purposes
chose to become a dart
rather than fodder for thought

sought to fight
with what meager means it could
with its weakling point
to inflict less than
a mosquito bite
and then to crumple
to be trampled
in the mud and dirt
instead of being preserved
in some library somewhere.

what drove it?
from a life of glamour
and relative comfort
of social acceptance
of respect and distinguishment?

what drove it
to acquire a licence
for one glorious flight
one glorious ride
only to end up a few seconds later
barely alive?

barely remembered
barely existent
was it all worthwhile?
for a momentary thrill
a one time high
of actually feeling alive?

Chaos

In his soul
for the unbroken mould of something at its core

in his mind
from the unborn dreams and wishes inside

in his heart
for dark and light, the desires of life

in his head
of matters pertaining to the future, for logical dread

chaos and storming fear, regret, emotion

pain.

that's all he cares about

everquest for deliverance from the traps of a past light

The tunnels of light
slip and stream past
as he walks in search of a giddy past
to kill it and move on
down his own little tunnel

The white bright
blinds him as he walks
the sight of hair flowing
around the next bend
sends him in search of his quarry

dark
raven black
tinged with color

to kill them
from his mind
the women of his past
the ones who had touched his soul

firebeing

neitzche looked into the abyss and the abyss looked back. he was a distraught soul who took himslef too seriously and inspired vows of silence in people who wanted to be fighter pilots who then found out they were colour blind and swore blindly at the sun in absolute agony and utter pain. the gain having been lost in the entire journey of remorse from the car to the cliff edge of sanity which was situated some distance from the road.

and he cried and he cried for a lifelong dream that was lost forever, he cried for a self that needed to find itself once again. he cried for the agitation running in his veins. he cried for the suppressed words never uttered to a dying grandparent who was stoned on the Heavy Stuff. He cried and cried and cried and cried.

Then he stopped. he had to. The tears dried up and all that was left were ripping sobs tearing up his throat. he stopped the tears and soon the sobbng stopped. and he was empty. he was just being. he was devoid. he was placid without the world inside him, yet the corners of his existence began to crumple as a piece of paper crumples before a flame when the fire of reality licks it, and he knew that soon the world would burn him up all over again.

pace

high flying

always trying

to overome the lethargy

that tiredness of the shoulders

that signals a slowdown of the beat

the slow fall to destruction then

is ever harder to recover from

pace yourself

Untitled 1

isolation in this chemical surrounding
the silence is deafening when my mind is open
thoughts scream .

The glass is clear
yet smeared with grime
but strangely a part of me
can see .

I feel
neopolitically obtuse
the sky calls
in all its glory and promise
of a freedom
The Freedom

The only type of freedom
that exists
is not here,
it is aspired to

away from here
beyond
a test tube existence

taking the red pill
still means you have to wait

white lie

I checked
yes it is true
i told a lie.

i thought it was small
yet
it was not exactly
nothing either

a lie
that betrayed someone
perhaps someone i do not know
when it seeped through the cosmos
of connections that exist
throughtout the strings
of intermingled life

This morning, while driving to work, i bypassed some traffic by going on the wrong lane for some distance and entering it again further down the road.

illusion

I think im gonna be sad
i think its today
yeah
the girl thats driving me mad
is going away
yeah

She went away
and now im grey
and the blood of my face has lost its color

she was my lover
my friend
a goddess
whom i knelt down
to worship

she was her
her was she
she was my
reality

she was pleasure
she was pain
and now i kiss her
memory

goodbye
again

and now i bury her
ashes
in the scattering winds
to float away
for i know
that now she means

nothing.

She was just an illusion,.