koce,
flipped the days around, a whirlwind of twirls and insights.
the edge faced again, paying for the visit in so many ways,
dying to figure a way out of this sequence of orbits.
reset, give consent to yourself that's so familiar in fleeting
glances. glints arousing the lunar magnetism i'll share with the
distances and throw them into the current. fucking static atmosphere
blindly perpetuated by so many. motion will cure it all. I will indulge.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
some old blogs
April 17, 2007 - Tuesday
shivers
the old ghost of a stolen silhouette lingers in the light. Lost in each thought, guided by the shadow's delight in a televised masacre. Not only do the macabre sensations fill the frontal lobe of thoughts but they reside deeper inside and hinder any movement. It may very well be the final bout in deviation, loosing sensations of how to be alive, how to devise a new direction to lead positivity in the darkness of redundancy. Alas, the weight of a lofty phantasy comes tumbling down on the fading scalp. The calendar lies and age is only how you feel all throughout your insides. Disintegrating. Dust in the wind's mouth. Sunshine washed away by the rains. The frigidity of the air is only compelled by the lack of heat in the shower head: slowly coming to terms with the lost energy. Found the lost sensibility in dreams but they never transfer over to the sense of being a waking being. Stuck between the unknown and numbers disappearing, giving into the waning ticks of today. Carpe diem is a lie to invoke hope yet all we find are shards of glass dancing at our feet. The tetanus of life, infectious sense of trying to become 'somebody'. Unable to move, frozen in the midst of spring, the growing skeleton silently whispers to me: tomorrow we can be together.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
following boy's day
After loosing any sense of health, wealth, and well-being, I've arrived at a new epoch in this continuous rage which some of us refer to as being. Time has really found no new sense, each moment or each day all come to mean the same thing, unless you play the game of memory and recollection. But what is all that aside from the acts of a pack-rat? The boy has died. Does this mean new habits are in order? Changes must be made in the ranks? Yes and no...and this seems to point towards the answer to the underlying question. Maintenence of balance is essential. Some may wonder (including myself), do you feel or define when life reaches out towards one extreme? I'd say it's much more of a feeling...and that's all I can rely on. Words are shiny objects. Some use them to stab, others to intice (themselves and others). Most use them for reflection of self, basking in the limelight you've created yourself. Creating the self: must be undone.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
"let go!!"
most visible ability so easily overlooked while im woven into this reality, I can only be what I allow myself to be. No subjectin to the collection of notions passed around like propaganda's the new love potion. Fabricated walls I often bump against, governing more than just the suface-thought content, but I tell myself I'll invent the unthought of remedy, realizing the smiles that bound and bound to layers, building me up to face this adversity. The only one to blame can be your own absorbtion of situation's essence, complex solidity is really atomic particles cris-crossed so dense you think you can't manuver through it; fuck it, facts are hardly solid unless they're viewed to be. is it half of duality thats the anchor to my departure? gotta let go of man and embrace nature, crumbling self-constructed structures.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
falling debris
eric the mastermind, orchestrator of such a trip, seven feet tall and deceitful with his wit. Glasses thick as bulletproof glass, shields to the soul so as one can't read his hollowtip demeanor. So Joshua has Trees in the desert, how lovely, lets take a nice ride over east to the fridigity of meteor showers. Dotted lines build the darkness to sight, an all together different mode of perception in ancient transition. Interesting enough to hear foot steps patter at your back when theres nothing but sky there, dimensional membrane penetration. Turn around to see the ground speckled with comets. Lets see what we can't see. The debris begin to ensnare universal connectivity, green sphere cut by slant planes in cube shapes, transmitting my composition of immediate emotion to sound-brain waves, no packets neccessary for pirates fall in short distance. The tear in the night only forces demise. Snap shot impossible. Fear and Loathing amongst the sand. Keep on driving, whats behind us is left there for a reason, keep driving. Minutes to days, no allowance for sleep, gotta keep up with reservation guidelines. Drawn back to the mastermind, he comes out to check on us, a whole-hearted wave seals the escape.
shivers
the old ghost of a stolen silhouette lingers in the light. Lost in each thought, guided by the shadow's delight in a televised masacre. Not only do the macabre sensations fill the frontal lobe of thoughts but they reside deeper inside and hinder any movement. It may very well be the final bout in deviation, loosing sensations of how to be alive, how to devise a new direction to lead positivity in the darkness of redundancy. Alas, the weight of a lofty phantasy comes tumbling down on the fading scalp. The calendar lies and age is only how you feel all throughout your insides. Disintegrating. Dust in the wind's mouth. Sunshine washed away by the rains. The frigidity of the air is only compelled by the lack of heat in the shower head: slowly coming to terms with the lost energy. Found the lost sensibility in dreams but they never transfer over to the sense of being a waking being. Stuck between the unknown and numbers disappearing, giving into the waning ticks of today. Carpe diem is a lie to invoke hope yet all we find are shards of glass dancing at our feet. The tetanus of life, infectious sense of trying to become 'somebody'. Unable to move, frozen in the midst of spring, the growing skeleton silently whispers to me: tomorrow we can be together.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
following boy's day
After loosing any sense of health, wealth, and well-being, I've arrived at a new epoch in this continuous rage which some of us refer to as being. Time has really found no new sense, each moment or each day all come to mean the same thing, unless you play the game of memory and recollection. But what is all that aside from the acts of a pack-rat? The boy has died. Does this mean new habits are in order? Changes must be made in the ranks? Yes and no...and this seems to point towards the answer to the underlying question. Maintenence of balance is essential. Some may wonder (including myself), do you feel or define when life reaches out towards one extreme? I'd say it's much more of a feeling...and that's all I can rely on. Words are shiny objects. Some use them to stab, others to intice (themselves and others). Most use them for reflection of self, basking in the limelight you've created yourself. Creating the self: must be undone.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
"let go!!"
most visible ability so easily overlooked while im woven into this reality, I can only be what I allow myself to be. No subjectin to the collection of notions passed around like propaganda's the new love potion. Fabricated walls I often bump against, governing more than just the suface-thought content, but I tell myself I'll invent the unthought of remedy, realizing the smiles that bound and bound to layers, building me up to face this adversity. The only one to blame can be your own absorbtion of situation's essence, complex solidity is really atomic particles cris-crossed so dense you think you can't manuver through it; fuck it, facts are hardly solid unless they're viewed to be. is it half of duality thats the anchor to my departure? gotta let go of man and embrace nature, crumbling self-constructed structures.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
falling debris
eric the mastermind, orchestrator of such a trip, seven feet tall and deceitful with his wit. Glasses thick as bulletproof glass, shields to the soul so as one can't read his hollowtip demeanor. So Joshua has Trees in the desert, how lovely, lets take a nice ride over east to the fridigity of meteor showers. Dotted lines build the darkness to sight, an all together different mode of perception in ancient transition. Interesting enough to hear foot steps patter at your back when theres nothing but sky there, dimensional membrane penetration. Turn around to see the ground speckled with comets. Lets see what we can't see. The debris begin to ensnare universal connectivity, green sphere cut by slant planes in cube shapes, transmitting my composition of immediate emotion to sound-brain waves, no packets neccessary for pirates fall in short distance. The tear in the night only forces demise. Snap shot impossible. Fear and Loathing amongst the sand. Keep on driving, whats behind us is left there for a reason, keep driving. Minutes to days, no allowance for sleep, gotta keep up with reservation guidelines. Drawn back to the mastermind, he comes out to check on us, a whole-hearted wave seals the escape.
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