6.4.10
Stream of conscious
A poem is a consistent string of words with power without meaning as they flow from the page into your mind filling it with thoughts of grandeur before escaping into the vast space of your memories, wherein it lies dormant until called upon, where they're full effect shines through and guides us to where we need to be. Life is a struggle, of man vs everything; man vs man, nature, self, love, joy, honesty, purity, innocence, temptation. We fight everyday against all odds in order to live the life we've dreamed to live but we are always brought up short as the things we perceive stand against us and force us unto their will, consumed by the overwhelming power of temptation we fall into a chasm of desperation, where we weep and wallow in the sludge of ourselves, disgusted by who we are, hating what we've become. Love, the theme of life consistently poking it's head into our minds forcing us to take heed. Life without love is carefree, simplistic, cheap, full of miscellaneous adventures, and very drab. We dwindle and flounder helplessly without purpose nor motivation. Whilst life with love is more bountiful in joy then heaven, full of smiles and tears, hopes and fears, the pain we feel lets us know we are human just like everyone else, and the joy that is revealed illuminates our inner self allowing our personal beauty to shine full strength. We love who we are and we love those around us. We love our lover and the things they do. The greatest struggle in life is love, and the physical happiness it brings. Pleasures of the flesh can steal the focus of the most devout priest from his duties, the motivation of a teenager boy, and the will-power of the innocent girl. When faced with the opportunity temptation strikes full force. blinding our morals and beliefs, single-handed-ly it bends us to its will. The struggles of our lives prevail against us each day, but everyday we conquer, everyday we are still alive we have won another battle. We may not win the war, but we must enter every skirmish with a smile and a laugh. Poems teach us these lessons, of life, of love, of the natural urges of the body. They teach us how to cope, how to conquer, how to co-exist with billions of people on a single rock. With the power of poetry we are guided in our lives, towards the finish line of life, the final resting place, the bed six feet under with cushions so soft you'll never awake.
5.4.10
Purpose and meaning
The purpose of life is to find your own meaning of life.
The meaning of life is different for each person, as their is no universal meaning.
It is the job of every person on this planet to go through life, exploring the possibilities and choosing the things that make the most sense to them and applying them in a way that fills their life with the emotions they want. Whether it is anger, love, joy, greed, lust, people relate to certain emotions and ways of living and that is the path they choose. Some people choose to be a banker, others an astronaut, an accountant, a teacher, or even an artist.
However, sometimes people are forced into an environment in which they do not appreciate. Someone or some event intervenes in their life and forces a path they do not wish for upon them. As an example, my uncle was forced into the world of construction, and he hates every moment of it. But it is all he knows, so he stays with it.
And it is a cruel and unjust thing when people force their path on others. One of the things people on this earth forget more than anything else, that the meaning of life is to find your path, not your friend's path, nor your children's, nor your lovers. People must be free to make their own decisions; else they will fall into a path of depression and pain.
When allowed the choice, they choose wisely. And no matter the troubles that come their way, they will overcome them because they are on the right path. As my path is the path of the individual. The one who fights against the many, so that happiness is there for all.
In life there will be hatred, confusion, loss and pain. These are universal. But without these there would be no creativity, nor love, passion or joy. It is variety that is the spice of life.
Difference makes life interesting.
I've found my purpose. I know my meaning. The course for my life has been set. The charts are prepared, the compass cleaned. My sails are unfurled and the rigging taught. The wind is on my back, and the salty sea on my tongue.
The horizon is only so far away.
The meaning of life is different for each person, as their is no universal meaning.
It is the job of every person on this planet to go through life, exploring the possibilities and choosing the things that make the most sense to them and applying them in a way that fills their life with the emotions they want. Whether it is anger, love, joy, greed, lust, people relate to certain emotions and ways of living and that is the path they choose. Some people choose to be a banker, others an astronaut, an accountant, a teacher, or even an artist.
However, sometimes people are forced into an environment in which they do not appreciate. Someone or some event intervenes in their life and forces a path they do not wish for upon them. As an example, my uncle was forced into the world of construction, and he hates every moment of it. But it is all he knows, so he stays with it.
And it is a cruel and unjust thing when people force their path on others. One of the things people on this earth forget more than anything else, that the meaning of life is to find your path, not your friend's path, nor your children's, nor your lovers. People must be free to make their own decisions; else they will fall into a path of depression and pain.
When allowed the choice, they choose wisely. And no matter the troubles that come their way, they will overcome them because they are on the right path. As my path is the path of the individual. The one who fights against the many, so that happiness is there for all.
In life there will be hatred, confusion, loss and pain. These are universal. But without these there would be no creativity, nor love, passion or joy. It is variety that is the spice of life.
Difference makes life interesting.
I've found my purpose. I know my meaning. The course for my life has been set. The charts are prepared, the compass cleaned. My sails are unfurled and the rigging taught. The wind is on my back, and the salty sea on my tongue.
The horizon is only so far away.
4.4.10
Life, death, rebirth, resurrection.
Can a living person die, yet still keep going through the motions of life?
Can a dead man reserve a table for dinner, can he hold his loved one close?
Can we be reborn without first dying? Be resurrected without first being alive?
Many deaths surround this place. Metaphorical and symbolic deaths.
Death of innocence, death of ignorance.
But is your innocence reborn?
Can your innocence return to represent the same beautiful truths? And the same foolish choices?
Can your ignorance be resurrected? And if so, what are the conditions that need to be fulfilled?
Is your ignorance born because of your inability to handle what is being shown to you?
Christian wisdom informs us to "die daily." But that is not a death of the physical body, but a death of the soul.
I am the living man who has no life within him. I am the dead man whose hand reaches, and twitches violently waiting to be grasped.
We all breathe life into our dead lungs, we all perish to the world around us hourly. Our hands reach and are closed involuntarily, empty.
Life is about being reborn, with every choice and mistake we make we seal our own deaths, and arrange for our rebirth.
With each wise decision we kill our own folly, and yet it is reborn when the pressures of wisdom and knowledge are presented to us. When we can no longer handle the truth of life and existence.
With every mistake we murder our ignorance, as we reveal what our mind had hidden behind the curtain of childhood. But upon staring with mouths open we simultaneously close both curtain and mouth.
We bring our ignorance back, wrap ourselves within the warmth of misunderstanding.
But as we do this, when our innocence is reborn and our ignorance resurrected, we remember why we first committed the bloody deed.
We see our violence and acknowledge it's need. Then our innocence steps aside, our ignorance subsides, but it is neither violent nor sudden, it is peaceful, and our understanding is complete.
We become enlightened.
Life, death, rebirth, resurrection. We experience them everyday, we hold these moments close to our heart, so close we cannot see them. We focus on the death's of others, the success of other's life's, to the point that we fail to understand our own deaths, our own life.
Today marks the death of a world, tomorrow heralds the resurrection of a galaxy.
How did you die today? Was your resurrection sweet and full of joy?
Did you spend your life preparing for your own demise? Did your rebirth go according to plan?
Never fear, there's always another chance to die tomorrow. Always a rebirth near in your future.
Always a resurrection right around the corner.
Can a dead man reserve a table for dinner, can he hold his loved one close?
Can we be reborn without first dying? Be resurrected without first being alive?
Many deaths surround this place. Metaphorical and symbolic deaths.
Death of innocence, death of ignorance.
But is your innocence reborn?
Can your innocence return to represent the same beautiful truths? And the same foolish choices?
Can your ignorance be resurrected? And if so, what are the conditions that need to be fulfilled?
Is your ignorance born because of your inability to handle what is being shown to you?
Christian wisdom informs us to "die daily." But that is not a death of the physical body, but a death of the soul.
I am the living man who has no life within him. I am the dead man whose hand reaches, and twitches violently waiting to be grasped.
We all breathe life into our dead lungs, we all perish to the world around us hourly. Our hands reach and are closed involuntarily, empty.
Life is about being reborn, with every choice and mistake we make we seal our own deaths, and arrange for our rebirth.
With each wise decision we kill our own folly, and yet it is reborn when the pressures of wisdom and knowledge are presented to us. When we can no longer handle the truth of life and existence.
With every mistake we murder our ignorance, as we reveal what our mind had hidden behind the curtain of childhood. But upon staring with mouths open we simultaneously close both curtain and mouth.
We bring our ignorance back, wrap ourselves within the warmth of misunderstanding.
But as we do this, when our innocence is reborn and our ignorance resurrected, we remember why we first committed the bloody deed.
We see our violence and acknowledge it's need. Then our innocence steps aside, our ignorance subsides, but it is neither violent nor sudden, it is peaceful, and our understanding is complete.
We become enlightened.
Life, death, rebirth, resurrection. We experience them everyday, we hold these moments close to our heart, so close we cannot see them. We focus on the death's of others, the success of other's life's, to the point that we fail to understand our own deaths, our own life.
Today marks the death of a world, tomorrow heralds the resurrection of a galaxy.
How did you die today? Was your resurrection sweet and full of joy?
Did you spend your life preparing for your own demise? Did your rebirth go according to plan?
Never fear, there's always another chance to die tomorrow. Always a rebirth near in your future.
Always a resurrection right around the corner.
Manifesto: For One
We live in a world where 'social butterflies' flit from one stage of life to the next.
Networking in the goal, more so than any form of intrinsic accomplishments.
Where once the rugged loner stood strong amongst the failures of society, now he hides behind the counter at the local five-and-dime, leering at the customers. He stalks and obsesses. He sits at his desk in his one room studio with only the glare of his computer screen for light. The sweat rolled down the mountain of his cheeks, leaping from the cliff-edge of his jaw.
I used primarily male images in the previous paragraph because that is the message that is seen on-screen and in pop culture.
The image of the lone witch or wise-woman was once respectful, empowering and inspiring, now a female alone is unheard of because it is not safe for her. I aim to reclaim that visage: for men, womyn, and everyone else. I want to renew the loner as a source of strength and wisdom. As the old man atop the mountain who dispenses wisdom to those who reach the top, the hermit in the cave who communes with nature and the gods, or the writer, who works for years in solitude to create a work of art that touches the lives of millions. Never lonely, but always alone.
The world we live in was built upon the shoulders of those who walk alone. Our greatest minds - scientists, artists, musicians, authors, poets, adventurers - stood against the world and took the road less traveled. For though they abandoned society at large, and shunned company as one would a poison, it is their shining light that leads the rest of the world forward.
I yearn to add to their light. I prefer the solitude of my own mind, the love of my own heart, and the peace of my own soul.
I am a media student. I have a background in theatre, psychology, history, literature, music, dance, poetry, photography, and mythology. I spend my time reading, hiking, meditating, teaching myself how to: play guitar, build guitars, knit, sew, speak dead languages, work with leather, etc.
I do not intend to tell anyone of this blog. These words will be a testament to my soul, and to my chosen path. I will bare my soul to the emptiness of the internet, where the challenges I face and the beliefs I own will echo amongst the silence the digital canyons.
I am my own man, and this life is mine.
Networking in the goal, more so than any form of intrinsic accomplishments.
Where once the rugged loner stood strong amongst the failures of society, now he hides behind the counter at the local five-and-dime, leering at the customers. He stalks and obsesses. He sits at his desk in his one room studio with only the glare of his computer screen for light. The sweat rolled down the mountain of his cheeks, leaping from the cliff-edge of his jaw.
I used primarily male images in the previous paragraph because that is the message that is seen on-screen and in pop culture.
The image of the lone witch or wise-woman was once respectful, empowering and inspiring, now a female alone is unheard of because it is not safe for her. I aim to reclaim that visage: for men, womyn, and everyone else. I want to renew the loner as a source of strength and wisdom. As the old man atop the mountain who dispenses wisdom to those who reach the top, the hermit in the cave who communes with nature and the gods, or the writer, who works for years in solitude to create a work of art that touches the lives of millions. Never lonely, but always alone.
The world we live in was built upon the shoulders of those who walk alone. Our greatest minds - scientists, artists, musicians, authors, poets, adventurers - stood against the world and took the road less traveled. For though they abandoned society at large, and shunned company as one would a poison, it is their shining light that leads the rest of the world forward.
I yearn to add to their light. I prefer the solitude of my own mind, the love of my own heart, and the peace of my own soul.
I am a media student. I have a background in theatre, psychology, history, literature, music, dance, poetry, photography, and mythology. I spend my time reading, hiking, meditating, teaching myself how to: play guitar, build guitars, knit, sew, speak dead languages, work with leather, etc.
I do not intend to tell anyone of this blog. These words will be a testament to my soul, and to my chosen path. I will bare my soul to the emptiness of the internet, where the challenges I face and the beliefs I own will echo amongst the silence the digital canyons.
I am my own man, and this life is mine.
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