Practiced Insanity

Brink

2010-06-01T11:01:00.000-07:00

There's torment in unspoken words.
In the guilty flight of flightless birds.

I dream - in another life you and I could fly.
But in this life, these wings stay promised to another sky.

Pieces

2010-03-26T22:41:00.000-07:00

The rising sun brings hope each day,
that this broken pot, this earthen clay -
will melt under the gaze of sun.
Its pieces fuse to make it one.

But as it stands - I'm shattered now.
I'm broken up - soul's scattered now.
I do my best to collect the pieces,
cover the cracks, hide the creases.

I cannot be whole,
for you're the biggest part of my soul.
And though each piece will love you best it can,
tell me love - can you love a broken man?

Chiaroscuro

2010-01-07T12:57:00.000-08:00

I'm burning up.
My sinews pave the ground before you,
my blood washes the floor you walk on,
my heart - your footstool.

Reduced to nothing.
Elevated in your service.
I am nothing but your play thing,
kiss me before you throw me away.

Dwarfed
Not by you, but your shadow, our shadow.
When the shadows meet they put out the sun.
For its not you that's you, you are your shadow.

Pray, take the sun away, it burns.
Bore a hole through it, my blood churns.
Stop it from shining, I'm exposed
Lest I lay here motionless, indisposed.

Food for Thought #2

2009-11-29T23:58:00.000-08:00

The toughest storm to endure isn't chaotic or maniacal, but calm and deceitful - skulking not to swallow you whole, but to gnaw at you till you're nothing but a shell of your former self. Vigilance cannot save you, only self-realization can. Know yourself and you shall not falter.

Cracks

2009-11-18T13:21:00.000-08:00

They say what you see is what you get,
but the heart doesn't heal, the mind doesn't forget.
Within the cracks other dreams are grown,
in a broken song, new notes are sown.

Food for Though #1

2009-10-14T15:56:00.001-07:00

How futile is it to hide behind a mask, when you don't even know your own face?

Why share a life, when you can share a cigarette?

2009-07-14T03:39:00.000-07:00

Unsheathe a smoke, set alight.
The bed and you - soak in the night.
Like a fleeting thought, we're here today,
like ash, tomorrow, we'll wither and blow away.

Is it all smoke, and if it is, what did we burn here?
If not, then why this distance, when you couldn't be more near?
The light embers into dust, all I'm left with now is ashes
& a packet of cigarettes - as empty as I am.

Rise from where you do not shine

2009-07-07T01:46:00.000-07:00

Can't stop thinking about the way her cute behind looks in the morning light - silhouetted by the warm glow that caressed the black lace, and entangled itself for all eternity. It almost feels like the sun rose from between its cheeks this morning...

Linger

2009-05-29T15:41:00.000-07:00

The folded quilt, that forgotten song,
her lingering scent - they do me wrong.
Says the glass that caressed her lips,
"shatter me now, before my sanity dips
into the bittersweet haven where, he tasted her and lost himself".

Ghost of the Living

2009-04-12T12:43:00.000-07:00

Haunted by her, even when she's in front of me.
Is she a thought, reality, or a bit of both?
She's the world that blankets me when I sleep,
the warm lids that cup my eyes when I dream.
She's the restless wind whose whispers caress my ear,
and the breath of air that rejects me when I suffocate.

Fortitude

2009-03-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

The rickshaw I was in today banged another rickshaw, knocking the other's tail-light out. The empty socket of it's other tail-light shouted back: "Is that all you've got? I've weathered worse!". And the battered rickshaw drove away as if nothing had happened.

What doesn't destroy us, only makes us stronger.

Dear Cigarette,

2009-03-18T01:32:00.001-07:00

With you between my fingers, I know that I can fuck my life up any way I choose to. Thank you for that comfort. And now, just like everything I love, I shall burn you.

Embrace

2009-03-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Do we really need the conjured comfort of obscure concepts to give us peace in grounded reality? Is there a need for reality to be grounded, and not dance with the grace of a nimble mind? Do we need to exercise conscious control over our thoughts, because we're too afraid to let them wander into uncharted waters? Are we too afraid to surrender the reins of our beliefs, for it may drive us away from the norm?

Are we too afraid to accept that one life time's more than enough to live a fulfilling life? Are we too blind to see that we're reborn as many times in a single lifetime, as we're molded and re-sculpted by newly acquired understandings? Or do we still seek the concept of rebirth to shelter us from our mis-perceived, skewed idea that we cannot, under any circumstances, live a fruitful life the way we choose to. Are we too afraid to let go of our crutches because we're afraid that we might fall, in spite of being supported by perfectly capable legs?

Are we too afraid to let go of inhibition, because we might discover only sorrow beneath? If we are, then we're fools. Under inhibition lies us, the imperforate us that exudes warmth through the coldest winter. Allow it to melt the ice off your frozen notions. Don't be the thinker that seeks answers, be the artist that seeks more questions. Embrace.

Circles

2009-03-06T12:44:00.001-08:00

Ripping apart the line between vision and sight,
losing inhibition, and the urge to end their fight.
Each drop of blood the eye has shed
breeds two more of what its bled.
For every consequence leaves in its wake an action,
that crawls back into the fetus of fruition.

Without Halves

2009-02-23T11:06:00.000-08:00

Not an inch stood between us, but our bodies did. Clawing at one another, at ourselves, we couldn't get any closer. Death - sweet release - an alternate to the limited existence that plagued us. The maddening torture, the panic, the agony; born of the longing. The longing to be part of us - not I, not you, not me, not we. Us. A whole without two halves. A life without bodies. A life without bounds. From we are, to we am, to I.

A Moment's Death

2009-02-17T10:28:00.001-08:00

A moment's death, a memory's birth,
a feeling's flight, the memory's plight.
The moment's lost, a memory found,
the truth's obscured, while glory's abound.
Born of truth, this is my lie,
let the feeling live, let the moment die.

Transfixed

2009-02-14T11:48:00.000-08:00

The calm light of the sun washed over me from below, its source nested comfortably on my shoulder. It blazed through from beyond her shut eyelids, as she dreamed of dreams I couldn't dream to comprehend. All I could do was drop shreds of the world out bit by bit through the closed window of the taxi. I'd left everything behind. Only tranquility was real, everything else was an insignificant, distant lie. The derelict carcass of reality spiraled out of the window, paving a path through the midnight sun that glistened behind the only curtains of truth I'll ever know.

The endless birth of questions

2009-02-12T00:04:00.000-08:00

What does one do when he has the urge .. no... the need to make a difference, but lacks the means or understanding to do so? What of that flame that burns brightly within, but has no means of manifestation? Does it burn up till it consumes him, or does it fuel his passion eternally? Does it grow dim over the years, or does it evolve into an unstoppable inferno? Does the flame feast on the flesh, or does it consume the soul? What does one do to change all the things he wants to, but cannot comprehend...

Strength is not power, for the flame has the strength to consume, but is powerless without a way out. What is strength without the comprehension of life, and the understanding of one's self? At least enough of an understand to be able to comprehend the forces at work, if that's even possible. But then again, what is the flame without its wild and untamed ways - is it still a flame when harnessed, or is it reduced to a shackled spark?

Does one of the two - the flame or the mind - always need to succumb to the other? What happens when the body gives in to the flame? Does it get burned by it, or does it become a part, a vessel of the flame itself? Or maybe the answer is a bit of both? What happens when the flame is repressed by the mind? Does the flame succumb after a fight, or does it burn the being so bad that they refuse to acknowledge the flame, and are imprisoned to an unfulfilled existence?

What are answers, if not but roads to new questions? Do answers even exist or are they just the equivalent of making peace with the limited scope of one's understanding? If that's the case, is there even a way to to find the means to comprehend that which one wishes to change; at least understand it enough to make a difference, in spite of the handicap of a limited mind?