I hate it when I dont sleep.
Read or read not, does not matter. I've not been sleeping, so strange friends I've kept. They watch me from shadows, they watch me from stars, they're names I do not know, but upon their lips I know my life plays out. I am a play to the heavens, a show to the spirits, and I only hope in this jest they find pleasure, for it surely is only a comedy of life.
Mad ramblings.
I've been singing a silent song. It echoes around me, through me, in me. I feel it resonating across my bones. I know its pulse in my flesh, its life in my blood. I hear its haunting melody as I walk, as I breathe. A crescendo, a beat, a soft play. It sings a duet, yet sings a solo, looking for the voice to match its own, underneath and above, dancing through and on, to make it more than a single sound in the dark. It sings a solo, sings it sad and empty, and sings it to no one. It is an endless parade of futility, and an endless wave of harmony. It is by itself essentially, yet circularly extensive so that its own echoes become its chorus, forming an illusion of life about itself, cressing a smile and slip between gentle lines. It sings a duet, it sings it solo. It sings a birds song, it sings a life. It sings it solo. Alone. In the darkness.
Solitaire.
I think everyone gets sick every 6 months or so. I think it is natural, and may even be good. How can we learn to live, learn to be alive if we were happy all the time? Happiness often collaborates with ignorance. In this instance then, it would be a bought of sadness, perhaps for no reason at all, that would bring the crystal to clarity so that it may be seen through again. Perhaps wisdom without pain would never be wisdom, and knowledge without experience is only regurgitated blather.
Immergence. Existance in the here and now. Is justice only prevalent once we have passed beyond, or does it play its part here while we breathe and wait for the air to stop its onward transcourse through our bodies? Maybe there is divine justice, maybe there is not. Does karma exist then? Or is it a trick of the mind to explain the events we feel, and the pain we sometimes endure, and to keep our heads from lifting too high when we feel peace and happiness?
Do we heed anymore to the smoke blown from a fire. Does it bring any noise other than the crackling embers of a blaze, does this blaze do anything other than burn ourselves down, and blast an ego, or does it simmer and keep, smoking more than burning, weaving illusions and waves into the light of our eyes, and cast down paths that lead to turmoil. I am through with the shadows of smoke, the fire burning brightly, the blazing heat touching my heart. I do not wish anymore to hear the crackling of smoke, and the sound of burnt wood beneath my feet. If there is something there, a thought, an expression, an action, a real person, and not just a shadow, then I shall be there. I will no longer follow shadows, I will no longer dance in the faded lights through smoke, and I will not longer call out to the darkness fearfully. I have mine own light, mine own fire, and I see it that others do as well, and ours do not smoke and spit, but warm us and burn our foes to embers. No more shadows. No more.
A black cat crossed my path the other night. Is that bad luck? Or is it just a sign of darkness passing?
We have a black cat. Does that make it different? Shes on my lap now. Don't move, cat's compfy.
Well, perhaps it is in our nature to always fall short. Perhaps it is natural to be disillusioned. Perhaps it is normal to be. Perhaps there shouldnt be a be. Wu. I am. You are. Don't be, instead become.
In budo,
Kai Muund
Swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. Put my tender heart in a blender, watch it turn into beautiful oblivion.
A hundred days have made me older. A thousand lives have made me colder, and I dont think I can look at this the same.
Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to, problems that upset you,
Dont you know, Everythings alright, yes, everythings fine.
Every step that I take is another mistake...I've become so tired, so much aware, all I want to do, is be more like me and be less like you.
Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman, I hope he wont find out what i know..You were the last good thing about this part of town...But I'm still trying, and thats more than I can say for him.
If you could only read my mind you would know the things between us...your one vice, is your too nice, come around and see, I want you, all tattooed, I want you bad.
Do you believe, in heaven above, do you believe in love...
Mad ramblings.
I've been singing a silent song. It echoes around me, through me, in me. I feel it resonating across my bones. I know its pulse in my flesh, its life in my blood. I hear its haunting melody as I walk, as I breathe. A crescendo, a beat, a soft play. It sings a duet, yet sings a solo, looking for the voice to match its own, underneath and above, dancing through and on, to make it more than a single sound in the dark. It sings a solo, sings it sad and empty, and sings it to no one. It is an endless parade of futility, and an endless wave of harmony. It is by itself essentially, yet circularly extensive so that its own echoes become its chorus, forming an illusion of life about itself, cressing a smile and slip between gentle lines. It sings a duet, it sings it solo. It sings a birds song, it sings a life. It sings it solo. Alone. In the darkness.
Solitaire.
I think everyone gets sick every 6 months or so. I think it is natural, and may even be good. How can we learn to live, learn to be alive if we were happy all the time? Happiness often collaborates with ignorance. In this instance then, it would be a bought of sadness, perhaps for no reason at all, that would bring the crystal to clarity so that it may be seen through again. Perhaps wisdom without pain would never be wisdom, and knowledge without experience is only regurgitated blather.
Immergence. Existance in the here and now. Is justice only prevalent once we have passed beyond, or does it play its part here while we breathe and wait for the air to stop its onward transcourse through our bodies? Maybe there is divine justice, maybe there is not. Does karma exist then? Or is it a trick of the mind to explain the events we feel, and the pain we sometimes endure, and to keep our heads from lifting too high when we feel peace and happiness?
Do we heed anymore to the smoke blown from a fire. Does it bring any noise other than the crackling embers of a blaze, does this blaze do anything other than burn ourselves down, and blast an ego, or does it simmer and keep, smoking more than burning, weaving illusions and waves into the light of our eyes, and cast down paths that lead to turmoil. I am through with the shadows of smoke, the fire burning brightly, the blazing heat touching my heart. I do not wish anymore to hear the crackling of smoke, and the sound of burnt wood beneath my feet. If there is something there, a thought, an expression, an action, a real person, and not just a shadow, then I shall be there. I will no longer follow shadows, I will no longer dance in the faded lights through smoke, and I will not longer call out to the darkness fearfully. I have mine own light, mine own fire, and I see it that others do as well, and ours do not smoke and spit, but warm us and burn our foes to embers. No more shadows. No more.
A black cat crossed my path the other night. Is that bad luck? Or is it just a sign of darkness passing?
We have a black cat. Does that make it different? Shes on my lap now. Don't move, cat's compfy.
Well, perhaps it is in our nature to always fall short. Perhaps it is natural to be disillusioned. Perhaps it is normal to be. Perhaps there shouldnt be a be. Wu. I am. You are. Don't be, instead become.
In budo,
Kai Muund
Swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. Put my tender heart in a blender, watch it turn into beautiful oblivion.
A hundred days have made me older. A thousand lives have made me colder, and I dont think I can look at this the same.
Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to, problems that upset you,
Dont you know, Everythings alright, yes, everythings fine.
Every step that I take is another mistake...I've become so tired, so much aware, all I want to do, is be more like me and be less like you.
Where is your boy tonight, I hope he is a gentleman, I hope he wont find out what i know..You were the last good thing about this part of town...But I'm still trying, and thats more than I can say for him.
If you could only read my mind you would know the things between us...your one vice, is your too nice, come around and see, I want you, all tattooed, I want you bad.
Do you believe, in heaven above, do you believe in love...