We sleep in the sing song
windy window rattle of
Tuesday afternoons,
late for class and life
amid used books scattered
half-read and dogeared,
cold pizza and debt.
as the suns sets in Damascus,
some woman bleeds in Persia,
the colossus sinks into the sea,
we write dissertations
on bud brewed chai:
honey sweetened
jasmine spiced
earthly melange
we ponder the beginning,
in Africa-ca-ca-ca....
the first dustings of
monkey perception
rising from the valley.
Floating high on falling ground by caddman, journal
Floating high on falling ground
Knowing only half give way to error
Always waving hand across the sand
is something not to tread lightly
only a fool would never double check
Never to play the 1st tarot card
It’s only a spell to become blind
Uno is a small number to play
With all hands on the table
Strange nothing found without what’s true
Floating high on falling ground
Soaking up the falling mundane
Sounds of nothings are never found
Plummet in a downward swirling spiral
One lost dead memory remains
Am not alone as rust never sleeps
My only jail is when I am alone
Ponder the moment in hand
Puzzle like confusing grow by leaps & bounds
Being
"The love of my life,"
a phrase overused in word and voice.
Still, I can't think of another
that would cover how I feel.
Maybe just an honest simplicity,
that "always and forever" hold true;
at least, for me, if not you.
Solid bass,
funeral march,
toys not held or found.
Honest lies
bring broken hearts,
voices not around.
Goodbye, saccharine dream,
I know what you mean,
I know what you mean.
Goodbye, my dear,
I know what you mean,
I know what you mean.
Toys put down,
voices silence,
no more time to pray.
Toys put down,
voices pushed out,
I won't let them prey.
The walls are high,
the sky is bleak;
all we said we'd need.
The holes are deep,
the ocean stinks;
all we'll ever be.
I'm
#not a good or a bad man
#single but a lot of voices inside my head
#human with feelings and mixed emotions
I've got
#addictions
#a deviant side (if you think about : you will see my addictions)
I'm lonely
Even if people are around me
I need affection / love / respect like you
now : in french
Rien n'est jamais sans conséquence
En conséquence : rien n'est jamais gratuit
"Les gens"
Les gens...
Tu donnes un peu : ils prennent le reste
Tu accordes un peu de ton oreille... De ton temps : ils consomment, digèrent et t'oublient petit à petit
Au fur à mesure, jour après jour, tu sombres te teintant d
Watching you change.
Is ironic, somewhat symphonic.
Self-preserved childhood.
Jumping off cliff-sides and
listening to the same song
as the rest of your neighborhood.
It's not culture---
it's a slow-churning realization.
A devouring of the fruit of
individuality.
Be bitten
and never turn back.
Thousand years of wars and genocides and murders does not teach us anything.
Literature , art, poetry , science, culture only serve to pretend to forget what we really are:reapers of death.
We have to stop thinking of ourselves (understood as human race) as good people and above all we have to stop thinking that culture and experience will change us, because its not true.
Seventy years ago (not 200) the good Christians Goethe's heirs tried to exterminate an entire race and we discovered Auschwitz and looking inside we knew what we are capable despite all our culture and our whole Gospel.
Twenty five years ago we had an almost genocide in Jugo
It's feeling broken. It's feeling numb. It's a feeling like you want the world to know who you are all while wishing for complete anonymity from it all. It's feel so many worthless, indescribable feelings every second of every day, to the point where you can't contain them but you certainly can't let them out.
This is what it is to get out of bed.
This morning. Yesterday morning. Tomorrow morning.
It's the same bullshit feeling. Exactly the same, always different. It's looking ahead at life that day and knowing that it's better to stay in bed, under the covers, shut away from everything. Shut away from absolutely everything; the room is m