Astray
Within the shrouded mysteries of life are sights too few of
us notice. To glimpse, even for that briefest of moments, a sight of life’s
truths will change the strongest of souls, reduce the bravest of heart to
tears. These are not the tangible worlds that explorers seek in order to
conquer, nor can the closed mind ever hope to see what will always be foreign
to him.
To see is to know and to know is to be aware. With awareness
comes a wondrous reward, life with purpose. In its absence a meaningless
existence is all which any soul can hope for. All cultures, all religions are
but embodiments of this greatest of gifts, their entrustment inherited by fools
who see little and know even less. Our time has yet to come. The meek have yet
to inherit the Earth.
12/8/??
Oppression
No one ever had to teach me how to step outside the
boundaries of this disillusioned autocracy. I find myself wandering through a
shallow, ink drawn world, callous and oppressive. When will colours burst forth
into this desolate wasteland, alleviate the blindness and guide us towards our
ultimate future?
10/9/??
Lifestyle
Someone once told me that young people tend to think there’s
more to life. There is ! If you’re prepared to go out and look for it. We spend
our whole lives searching for perfection and settling for second best. And when
we do see a glimpse, for that briefest of moments catch a sight of perfection
personified, it disappears forever: Our lives can never be the same again.
I used to have a set of ideals which I, at that time,
thought were important. I now know better. And if the months of despair and
depression induced loneliness taught me anything, it is what is really
important. I wonder what will come from there this time?
15/12/??
Truth
Do you know what I keep hearing? Be realistic. Be realistic?
You mean be ordinary? I never tried to be different, never set out purposely to
awkward as some people seem to think. The fact is, I am different. I couldn’t
care less about car engine capacities or how pissed I’m capable of getting, my
mind needs more tangible stimulus. I see things differently because I see them
for what they are and most are completely fucked. That kind of honesty breeds a
fear in certain people, they can see in my eyes a sense of purpose and they try
to drag me down to their level. It’s always guaranteed to fail. There is no
vanity in me, but there is a sense of truth and it says I’m beyond them:
Superior.
What most of us tend to forget is we’ve been given a life
and we waste it. Mediocrity is accepted, after all, it’s been hammered into us
from the day we were born. With me and my ilk he plan falls through. Our
individuality wasn’t stifled, it flowered. Not content to work in an office or
a factory, we see these for what they are, just more obstacles to overcome. And
when those challenges are scaled and conquered we can, for the first time, lay
our virgin eyes on the true realities of life. These are not the false
trivialities lesser mortals accept as the norm. They are real living.
If a less than happy childhood had not alienated me from
most of the world, I may too have fallen by the wayside. As it is I find myself
content to be me, surround by fools. I see them as moles: Secure in the
darkness, blinded by the light.
13/8/??
Sickness
Help me to understand where these feelings come from; the
rage anguish; frustration and fear. Is all that’s left inside of me self
destructive? Slowly bubbling to the surface, an exponential growth of chaos,
ever perpetuate by each new soul destroying put down, failed relationship,
death all around, wearing down my resources, killing inner-self. Or is this all
another step of ascendance to that person I need to be?
These feelings need to be dissipated, yet I know that first
I need to expose the world to them or they’ll always remain, and I hate the
shit that they dredge me through in their awakening. I cannot live without
passion and I feel dead, sick of the never ending stream of non-important
bullshit that infects my mind and keeps me from achieving the things I need to
achieve. Looking to when this phase began, it is fitting that that night I
dressed in the dark robes of death and yet I find that I have become that which
I seeked to mock. I hate fucking irony.
28/11/??
A Voice in the Black
Into the screaming fire which burn in these veins, cascading
waterfall, surging, bursting river, the essence of light, forging through the
dark. Creation’s struggle over destruction, calling form the warm, still air.
Give me the inner chasm’s emerging strength, to take this fight to the last,
confident swagger. Heal these wounds from battles past, energy to destroy the
gods, their myths and little minions here on this terrain who burn the truth
with every breath. Rage for the horrid overseers, fuelled by the truth from all
around, the deceit and charade in ever chair, every seat of power, every church
and school. Grace of thought, never to be deprived clear sense, given to the
brave, forged from within. For if you destroy my senses, I can still think.
2/2/??
Corridors of Deceit
Burn the truth, destroy the pure, with every breath force
feed the lies. In darkened shroud are we content to let the demons run amok.
Enemies to everyone and everything that is not you.
A horrid palace of demons, basking in you ignorance as they
ride to work on the backs of the poor. A new class of slaves, ever more
productive. Manipulated marionettes.
Even the best production lives go awry. How fitting that I
am but a reject, thrown into a corner and forgotten. An so I sit here, emerged
in your self-perpetuated abyss, eyes wide to the twisted, joyless domain that
you create, we maintain. Screaming and crying, I dream of the knife wet with
your blood, instead of these tears of rage, as the slaves are boxed, labelled
and shipped to the four corners of the Earth. And from all around echoes the
laughter. Automatons never answer back.
12/9/??
Souls such as we tread a lonely path. Seeking a realm we can
never hope to find, journeying despite ourselves, meeting few others along the
way, and then only fleetingly. Sardonically our goals seem in sight, sprinting
to chase after that far off domain, the vision fades, aroused from another
troubled sleep. Reality an illusion, we live through our fantasies, a never
ending exploration. For it is better to die scaling an unreachable peak than to
live it their shadowed foothills.
Get it done.
Get it done.
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