Asteral 

Asteral 

The sound of water droplets as it falls on the chair outside, tiny spheres of suspended droplets scatter into thousand tiny particles, splitting like an atom, scattering like a star.

“Comeback”

Lying down straight, the tention in the spine like a life long itch, the cushion under the head, penetrates the skull.

Chill of the winter freezes the movement, actions ends, thoughts become symbols of inert words, floating in the vacuum of the mind.
The mystery in the letters that stand together, holding the plastic meaning of the abstract feelings; love, anger, frustration-mere symbols of human sounds, language becomes the barrier to the emotional realm.
‘FOCUS’

*Breathing in*

The cool air glides into the nose, into the chest, expanding body, creating it, maintaining it, keeping it alive.

Lying there, in the moment, in the present self, slight itch on the tip of the nose, the test of the body.

“Mind awake, body asleep”

“Mind awake, body asleep”

“Mind awake, body asleep”

Accepting the sting like sensation on the nose as it branches out, accepting this reality as it is, bringing it into the comfort zone, bringing it to becoming me.

Each breath shorter than the last, as the body gets heavier with each moment, the breath slowly fades away, releasing the pain, relieving it from the struggle.

Sudden vibration, the terbulance of separation, the last attempt to stop the self from leaving.

“Mind awake, body asleep”

“Mind awake, body asleep”

“Mind awake, body asleep”

*POP*

Floating, as the breeze of time flows through me.

There it is, the body, lying in the reality of suffering and pain.

I’m free

Free to go, free to be

Just as it is, just as ME!

Advertisements

Devil

Devil

The devil is at his strongest while we’re looking to the other side, like a programme running in the background silently, while we are busy watching ourselves bleed the colours of the dark corrosive rain, the veins pop the taste of the red viscous fluid flowing all over your body, when your insides are flipped and the only thing you feel is the slow dying sound of your breath, the last moments of your pain, it will end soon!

The realization of time as it slips away as you lie there, drowning in the pool of your blood, the heart beats to survive, the beauty in the suffering, watching yourself drift away, away from the silent nights, the chirping birds you hear as you sip the morning coffee, the touch of the newspaper you read daily, the perfect loop you created for yourself programmed for you to never see it spinning like a cinema reel in front of your eyes.

Pain turning into acceptance and then vanishing into absence like it was never there, presence feels like an illusion, the little boy that knocked on your clean car window, that bugging feeling of the dirt stuck on your perfectly clean plastic glass from his dirty grey hands, the hands of the boy, a life, a human, gone. Your jet blue car manufactured in Indonesia assembled in China shipped in to your country and “owned” by you, the feeling of control, power, the feeling of being secure even on the coldest of the nights as you lie on your bed, the comfort of the warm and cosy blanket over you protecting the dying self inside this filthy body!

As you look up into the sky the stars that twinkle like the ones in your nursery rhyme, the slightest blip of memory comes back to you, too quick to notice, the sounds of people and human kind cleaning the stains of your blood as you go away.

Shoe Store

Shoe Store

I take a look around – everything seems different, yet I cannot put my finger on it. I’m completely surrounded by women but I barely pay them any attention.

There is too much to do, besides, the last thing I need right now is to make eye contact with a woman holding a shoe.

Shit needs to get done.

Sadly, my efforts are disrupted by the continual efforts of the fairer sex to gain my attention.

“Excuse me; do you have this in an 8?”

I cast a quick glance in her general direction – almost snatching the shoe from her hand as I do so.

“Hang on, I’ll just check” are the words that spill from my lips.

“Do you have clown feet or something?” are the words that form in my mind.

I return, passing the shoe back to her with an apologetic shake of the head. I’m not really sorry of course. I’m just programmed by society to act this way.

An hour passes by in an instant. My labour only grinds to a complete stop when I notice the savagery that lies before me.

Rush hour has passed, and with it, the remnants of a war zone.

Kids, this is what happens when you don’t go to university and end up working in a female shoe department.

Ten minutes later the place was restored to its former ‘glory’.

Three hours later; I have cleaned every shelf, unboxed the delivery, tidied the stockroom, rearranged the furniture and waited hand on foot (literally) to what seemed like a screaming horde of women. I didn’t miss a beat – this shit was easy.

I hated my job with a passion.

Yet, I was on fire!

STUCKGOD 

STUCKGOD 

​​Bliss is not what I seek, the acceptance of the pain, the moment where truth bends onto it’s knees. 

Distorting reality, melting ideas, melting me. Stuck in this 5’11 long piece of flesh and bones, blinding light is what I want to be.

The tiny shred of hope of a dying star in the lifeless cosmos, floating in infinite space, crossing over the boundaries of time where there no one but me.
The darkness completes me, the sense of touch is what I want to be.Bursting into balls of formless matter, splitting of a atom is what I want to see.

Chains of life bound this man claiming my identity, possessing this body he believes he can possess me.

I am the sound of the infinite ocean, the sight of a galaxy. Words, language, culture, life cannot define me.
Limits don’t stop me, freedom doesn’t control me, I define these words I become the eternity!

.

.

The presence of you, your body

The warmth of the touch,the swift blink of the eye

Aware and conscious 

Flowing and floating in the green and the black

The chill of the night, the silence of death

The innocence of the lips, the imperfections of the spine

Hairs grow out of the skin, life grows out of the skin

The beauty of the light, the mystery of the dark

The hard sole of the feet, the deapth of the eye

The pleasure of love, the kiss of goodnight!

Brushes against me, the walls of my soul

The stroke of the brush of life, paint of time, the hand of the artist who paints without control, mother’s lip touch against the cheek of the unborn.

The blue sky is what I remember and the sound of life.

!?!

!?!

Here, now breathing

Blood pushing through the veins, heart beats, for what? For who?

The point where existance feels like a burden, if only I could ends this, end now.

Theroies and stories I’ve heard it all

Emotions penetrating the skin, the drops fall in the well of silence creating the echo of life.

Life is beautiful says the living one, the beauty is in the looker eyes.

The beauty, the warmth, the silence the night all coming true as I close my eyes.

Jumping in and out of  reality, I seem to have many lives, I stand on the words that keep on falling, tipping off like dominoes one at a time.

Falling, stuck in time, waking into the light is what I seek. 

I’m half God, nothing is my reality.

The whole universe seems like an option in this reality, dead they say the ones who go away, hopping in and out time convincing myself to stay.

Sober

Sober

I like my sober self

Floating in the wave of altering emotions, confusion and conflict between thoughts and actions, the ideas and words collide to scatter into million pieces as I look over.

Ego splitting into two scattering and colliding parts of self flowing into the ‘you’, the consciousness creating traps for me, falling and splitting is all I feel

The green that burns in the white translucent sheets flipping me out and making me infinity

The power is too much to handle and control, its bursts through my skin as it reaps the seed that I sow.

Perceptions all around me seem to be many, but the one inside me seems to be empty, actions and words reflecting their thought clearly, how do they know what to do to say to tell their story? 

The questions never seem to end and the answers never  appear, people around me staring at me, the peering eyes sense my fear, the self that spilt tells me to take it easy.

Dreams collide with reality, shape shifting mountains and plains is what the eyes see. 

This body is just a vessel he says sitting inside as he plays, with my flesh and hair and my soul as he goes away.

This is the tale of me getting back control, life is just another possibility I know, I choose to stay ‘sober’ if that’s what it’s called my story is strange as my self evolves!