The Places You Found LoveEveryone, but you especially as a woman, is biologically programmed to find babies cute. It's an evolutionary imperative, because the rational thing to do when you've got a screaming, shitting dependant taking up your food, is to kill it, and we need something to stop us doing that. It's also why people are generally attracted to big eyes and smooth skin - because they're characteristics of children.And I'm not saying this to detract from the beauty of parenthood, or to make you sad, I'm saying it to point out that this fact doesn't make a baby's laugh any less wonderful. And I don't think the source of anything can make it less so.This is why I can point out that any form of love isn't God or fate or destiny, it's that if two people have a strong emotional attachment, their children are more likely to survive.Atomic bombs are beautiful.So I will say that the me I am now, will and always has been feeling what I feel, but that sentence doesn't even make sense until we consider that
The Reasons We DieWhat I meant to say was that sometimes I just stare at the cigarette in my hands and beg for it to stop messing around and just kill me already.But I figured you don't want to hear that.
The Shifting Nature of RealityYou asked me, "In these dreams, what does it look like?" I told you it looks different every time. Sometimes it's like a million feathers falling, sometimes it's like snow, sometimes it's like little stones, sometimes like ash, sometimes like a fine sand blowing across the hills. It's always silent. It falls around me but it never touches me. It never sticks. I told you sometimes I see dim figures walking in the distance through all the falling white. I told you I wish one would turn around and come to me. I wish one had your face. I wish the pink of your cheeks and blue of your eyes would appear to me unveiled from out of the drift. But the sad small figures don't turn around. They walk on, shoulders low, and disappear. I just watch them. You said, "I'm here now," and touched my hand. "I'm here now."
The Overuse of MetaphoresYou smile like it's an accident that comes without an apology.
The Time Gone ByTick tock. All day. Every day is tick tocking by. There is no clock in your office that ticks or tocks, but you can hear the tick tock in your head. Tick. That's another second of your life gone, you think. Tock. That's one more second waiting for the man to tell you what to do. Tick. I'm a thinker, you think. Tock. Time to be a doer. Tick. You walk into your boss' office. Tock. I quit.The clock stops.
The NuancePlay it one more time please, I need to hear it again. I need to make sure that its the only sound in my head. Play it again for me, I want to hear it once more. I want to make sure the only sound is correct. I don't want to hear that stare again. I don't want to see those words. I'll play the part again, I need to play it again. I need to make sure that every note is right. Give me a second to rehearse that part once more, I haven't been playing it right this entire time. I know it might sound right to you, but it doesn't sound right to me. I can't hear those words anymore. I never want to see that stare again. I have to keep playing. I never want to hear that again.
The Silence Goes On For YearsIn case of emergency, break glass. Throw plates. Cave to the insecurities you've harbored all along. Scream. Curse. Panic. Accuse her of never loving you, even though you know she did and still does. Tell her you never loved her. Tell yourself. Feel the world crumbling around you. Rip the rest of it down. Ignore her pleas. Her tears. Your regrets. Watch yourself leave, unable to stop your own feet. Slam the door. Keep walking. Realize, too late, that you didn't mean it.
The Art of Finding FlawsMaybe that's all it means, to grow up; to watch your heroes become human, right before your eyes.
the Millennia LaterDesolation has its own stark beauty. It's in the limbs of dead trees twisting up, pleading at the grey sky. It's in the air, cold with a faint hint of smoke and the barest breeze that stirs up the dust at your feet. The white-grey ash falls like snowflakes, dusting your hair, your coat, your mask. You catch one of the flakes and it crumbles between your gloved fingers. The ground is packed as hard as concrete under your boots as you turn your back on this cold, still world. You look up; the moon is barely visible. You will carry that memory with you as you go back underground. Mankind no longer has use for the stars.
Musing On Illusion and RealityWhat is reality if not a set of agreed upon illusions?Our illusion of greater control over a planet that we are not separate from but part of.Our illusion of physical solidity that only holds relevance in terms of what we compare ourselves to.Our illusion of having greater feeling, consciousness and complexity than other life forms that we cannot be, therefore cannot fully comprehend.Our endless array of theories and categorizations that we use to box ourselves and others with, willfully pushing into those boxes even when there is no fit, as if fit exists within the many concepts we try to manifest into solidity.Our illusion that agreed upon realities have somehow been static over time, rather than morphing with prevailing cultural winds.Our illusions about what is possible. Our assumption that everything already known is all there is to know, and the myopic decisions we make as a result of that. The impossible and magical simply morphs into the scientific with a grea
The Stage, The Savior, The Melody And The Woman~~~I hear voices vocalizing, the song of a choir is evident in the sound. The song carried itself in my ears like hot water droplets from a showerhead. So sweet and refreshing. I have hope inside my heart. I can't help but beam a smile on my countenance. Raising my hands in the air, I feel that someone is behind me. Could it be my future Love that hasn't made his appearance in my life yet or could it be the Savior who has saved me from the wretch I am? I feel someone is contributing to my energy. It must be Him. Jesus, who always looks out for me. Who gives me happiness my words cannot fathom, my mouth could not form, my hands couldn't touch, my ears could not fully comprehend how much the Son loves me.I'm standing in the midst of a stage. Voices are heard in my ears. Two lines from a song are evident in my mind and my ears.If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?Sometimes I feel so helpless. God, please help me not to
.owt ni tihgRI wish I could go back in time.And no, not to see dinosaurs.No, I do not want to go to fix my mistakes.I just want to watch humans evolve.Because I know that from the start we were made in order to divide. You know, like right in two. Taking two halves of the resources, split them with the sharp stone blade. Divide all you have instead of uniting.We all have the reason, but since we’re the ones who called it reason is it truly what we say it is? Our “reason” as we call it is to survive. But not as the mass, but rather as the individual. Everything we do on a daily basis comes back to benefiting ourselves.Don’t believe me?The first counterpoint I created to my own theory was friendship. We are the social wonders of the world, our communication leading to such advance developments. But friends are there to give us comfort, to help us and to share with us. Honestly everything a friend is for is a benefit. When we give to them to make them a friend, we are re
The Truth Can't be Changed with Hot AirInsults, ignorance, irrelevance and comparisons will never change the truth. More then likely it will just provide temporary comfort.
Things seemed to have never changed...Looks like things don't change:From space to space.As technology advances.We are still left with disasters....From time to time.Wars, disease, racism and others.Seem to recycle every single day....From B.C.To Today.Nothing seems to have changed...
Rising sunAnd above Berlin's rooftops the sun is rising.Rising like nothing happened.What a cruel world in which we're living when not even something beautiful like the sun cares about the tears of her children?
ThoseThose blessed by the ignorance.Those enlightened by the truth.Those who are chosen.Those who are disowned.Those whose eyes see more than their minds.Those whose minds see more than their eyes.Those prepared to forget.Those prepared to grasp.Those with opportunities.Those with no choice.Those who have power.Those who have knowledge.Those who need.Those who give.Those remembered.Those who are everything.Those who are none.Those who are void.Those forgotten.
Infinite lying truth.Omnipotent God, Whom can create a rock even He cannot lift? Only He,a paradox and an oxymoron. For nirvana is everything all at once and is void and nothing all the same, Religion does not know God or even his true name. For it cannot be pronounced or even thought. The ideal is true but no thought or human explanation can explain God for He is beyond all comprehension, not even the greatest master of wisdom may attempt to even conceive it the words I say are paradoxical, true and false all at the same time, we seek Him but once there we are void and no longer, human life is given purpose by humans to continue in the lying truth, This paradox is our existence, but it is not good nor evil it is simply there and is paradox again I say. And this is infinity, and this is the end and again the paradox labyrinth of God Absolute. Namaste. ---JMS
Time Space JubileeWe are each a witness in the center of all time.We are each located in the center of all movement.We are each the same as the other,Masquerading in perspective misconception.
The End That No One NoticedThe Universe blinks and humanity, in all its cruel glory, comes into existence.It blinks again, and we are gone.