The Question Dilemma

What are you creating? moments of happiness for yourself, for others, things, energy, power, time. It does not matter. The essence of things is not what you think it is, it is in fact the complete opposite of everything you ever thought it was! If you ask how and why, existence will tell you not to question it!

Think about that moment that you anticipated so badly and thought it will make your heart and senses align, and once that moment happened, it became an old decaying addiction you wish you can grab at a whisper of your thoughts, thus your heart and senses starts to wander indefinitely in a sea of tsunamis.

Have you ever thought that you will make something so great, and you will succeed to the degree of euphoric extremity felt only by the Gods? But once you got there the dictator self in you kept diminishing your greatness like a greater thing is still there for you to seek, so you wish what you made was written by a different pen, paper and poet.

Have you thought of those in your life that your heart cherishes and grasps its existence around, but then they vanish between distance and death leaving your existence justified by the clutter made of a dark shadow with a grin smile and an unjustified bad intention.
Have you ever thought of yourself as the king of your own story but with each turn of a page you feel like your life is a memory buried under the years like the magnificent scriptures from the book of nothingness.

Have you ever saw the things that matter the most to you shift with every page of your life, every loved one, every achievement and every moment to become absolute like a sculpture you worked so hard on but it is simply a still molded rock sitting your living room without life or character.

Why everything is made to change this way? i always ask, and i get the same answer, don’t question it!

Trickle down the boredom stream

Plotted against myself i find it difficult to gather the inner crush i had of the person who touched and changed my nucleus. The despair of a fear, and the dread of a bloody tear, the yearn of a smile and of attention i have had for a while, are caging me behind invisible bars. The invisible shackles have bled and bled until they turned into old rusted memories of a lonesome man. But the beautiful face of a falling star shines and sweeps the colors of darkness from under the dead trees, then blows a kiss at the lonely heart of the heartbroken to awaken emotions only felt by eternity when marrying death.
7:25pm

When death pulls you down!

At an unusual instance, my eyes shut, my body drifted, and my mind lost itself into a 15 seconds of a state of semi death! As  i laid on my bed, breathless, eyes open, unconscious, my soul felt an unusual pull towards another state of existence, or a state of non-existence. Memories did not seem to matter, the dark night lit by the shimmering moon seemed sad enough to grief any passing soul. And while mine was torn between giving up or coming back into its earthy state, all the power and the weight that my thoughts and my realization have acquired over the years pulls me back and leaves me with a signature: When your soul leaves you, all your past life stays on earth, and you transcend into eternal sleep where time has no meaning and it flies in years, decades, centuries and even millennium while it only feels seconds to you.

Three dimensional dream

Dreaming of a memory of a dream that never came through.  Light years are closer to destination than a lost memory of a dream that was forged through inspiration, irrationality, materialization and weird emotional undecisiveness.  If castles are built for kings by overworked and underpaid slave workers, dreams are made for one’s soul by the substance of underdeveloped rational, unreasonable ideas and incoherent thoughts. How many castles never lived to be completed and all that human factor disappeared in the universal shredder of existence like nothingness. We are trained to dream, so that our essence is diluted between the can and cannot, between life as we see it and life as it really is in another dimension we will never attain or get a glimpse of. We are so good at dreaming that we do it well when we are not doing anything else, involuntarily. Dreams are imposed on us, we don’t choose them or make them, but they interlink in their unrealism throughout our lifetime to tell us one thing, how ignorant we are in our journey of subconsciousness.

Sneaky Cripples

Corrugated by the explosive character in me, i propel changing the signs that cross my thoughts once a second to transform itself into an obsession of an unsanitary characteristic of a mind held behind bars, begging for freedom i ought not know how to handle. A crippled man who know how to want to be free but have no concept of freedom. The sole concept stuck in the mind of eternity is timeless endings, senseless death, ultimate confusion of the nothingness, but the vast amount of space that hover over our lives is nothing but a full bucket of sorrows and undermined soul concussion!
Vocabulary don’t matter, it is the sole mean of self expression but the self have no expressions left but the who what when and what about the freeZom! so i let the stars guide me through my journey that has taken a lifetime of journeys that are upwards, unparalleled, unprecedented but fully expressed by the underlying cooked ideas of succession and restlessness. I would like not to be bothered one day by myself, my mind and my shuffled imagination, but they come pouring down like a waterfall of rubbish covered with honey and cream. Not to mention the nonsense that surrounds me every passing moment of every day of non-organized life that is riding an infinite bus of voyeurism, that is of our naked souls trembling against existence thus religiously believing every bit of non-sense and confusionism and contradiction that one mind can ever imagine, thus i surrender!
1:39 am

Crushed

The ticks of the clock falls from the flow of eternity and breaks, awakening the deep worries buried within the deepest corners of the ignorant soul.

The consistent tries to make thing work in a fascinating way has turned into an effective tool to craft lines on the present so that tears find their ways to the murky waters of deception and self torture.

No thought is pure enough to surface the mind and break the door that locks the real spirits within the one spirit. A whole world locked within me is ready to fade and become one boring lonely speck of nothingness. So why there is 33 spots i cannot locate in my heart? are they the dwindling lifespan on my human spiritual progress? or is the self timer about to awaken me when i am in my deepest state of infused anesthesia?

Dreams are blackened by the happy moments that are drawn on the window of soul indulgence and crippled satisfaction.

There is no ending to my train of thoughts that flow through my brain to leave me paralyzed with bits of imagination that realty envies so much that it dreads and fears.

Born addicted, then became addicted once more to the beauty of unattainables.

The body rest in peace while the mind goes into a deep stage of epiphany about unseen unreality.

I am loving it,

Stagnant

The water does not choose its course, gravity does. And so we are coursing through our lives as chosen by time and the ultimate master of creation; maybe the masters of creation!

The way things are made in this world is to keep going, as stars race through the black skies, the wind travels through the trees, the water flows from stream to stream, nature dies and awakens, bla,bla,bla…. we are made this way, biologically we keep going from the moment our lucky eyes see the light of the world, until we close them for the last time, we never stop going!

So why does some waters hit a swamp and become murky, filled with insects and rotten plants? why does space looks still? why does the mind seeks a state of boredom and stagnancy? why does moments come to a flowing brain and goes, what part do i play in any of this? what makes me existent under the concept of humanity but non existent in the scheme of master creation? is this point of thoughtful confusion part of us, part of our brain? a thin line that dilutes what’s real and what is more real? is this state of stagnant thoughts, dormant desires is part of the other side of our existence?

but unlike still water that goes back to the skies, or space that travels on an immense volume we do not notice, our minds give up and go back to the temporary state of non-boredom!

Twilight of a nightmare

Bare naked, faked emotions dress the dark gloom that hovers over the silent lover who awaits seldom moments of seclusion infused with random omens of beauty which escaped its meaning and dwelled an unparallelled existence that attaches itself to parts of humanity to only shine when we can’t define the crying of nothingness which we turn into an intense glance of an unexpected specs of life.

My dreams cannot define my reality so they hinder my ability to create a world that is defined with characteristic definitions of failure that exist with success, so i see the twilight of  nightmare, misunderstood like my rhymes!

Running

Time is running away.  Souls are crippling with burdening sensation of inadequate illusionary responsibility. All fades away except the responsibility of stripping our angry ignorant spirits in front of the undermined amazing creation. Escape to the ends and corners of the desired lost fate while your present becomes unrelated to a state of confusionism and  hate. i cannot relate …. to myself…this innate ambiguous thought of masquerading an emotionless escalating unknown character. It is a mere love of pain that stops me from loving!