Taking flight into the ultimate fire of Truth

The sky is light
the light
is sky
the Might
is right
you are not

we are lost
unless we
are right
and we forgot what
right was
when we chose
to fight
without reason

when shame failed
to correct
and faith failed
to survive
within us
we were forsaken
to become
dust
thrown
into the fire
at the complete
mercy of Him

size matters sometimes

the big dog told the little dog
'the sands of time have wasted
the times of the great ones are here
and you must bow down to our fury
give me that bone'

the little dog looked up at him
'the sky is vast in its appearance
the earth is nothing in comparison
yet it exists by its own right
likewise, this bone is rightly mine'

The big dog looked violent
he was keening in indignation
my patience is wearing thin!
that cute little expression is not working!
give me that bone or shall i rip you to shreds?

The little dog let the bone drop
morphed into a massive dog
much bigger than the big dog
kiled the big dog
morphed back
and settled back with his bone.

Actually, thats not the way things turned out
but he could always dream and plot
as he sulks in his little alley spot
-if that big dog thinks he'll forget
this disgrace to the face of his little-dog race
he can think again.

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

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?

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.

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

Icarus

got some thing quirky to say?
not something intelligent per se?
then come fly away
into the reaches far yonder

the calm of the ocean
and the randomness of a thunderstorm
is a playgrond below me
as i soar towards the clouds
freedom running in my veins

there is a break up ahead
and suddenly behold!
all below me
is the topside of fluff
white gold in the streaming sunlight
gloriously yellow
strikingly blue

liberated
exhilerated
.wha..
/
.
.
.Krrccthht..
.
>>>**transmission lost*