You don't want to fight with me

You don’t want to fight me.
I’m not what you’re used to.
A rebel; I don’t follow
Your PRECONCEIVED notions of my kind.

I live in Your World.
I know how it works.
Cause and Effect.
Crime and Punishment.
A balance maintained.

I know how YOU work.
Your mind,
It ticks in tune with mine,
The beats of our hearts
Are synchronized.

I am the Effect to your Cause.
I am the Punishment to your Crime.
You and I are THE SAME.
Linked.
Because in Our World
A hero is only a villain that plays for the other side.

Happy Entry

According to some cynical commenter .. :-) I can't write happy stuff... tut, tut.. what a load of ox crap. I can write many many happy things. Just see for your self.



Muse:

I've always wanted a happy ending.

When i was younger, I went to bed with stories of princesses in pink dresses, even though I hated pink. but the princesses had 'happily ever after and found 'true love'. There was 'magic' involved, and in the end, everyone was 'happy'.

The only thing out of those I still believe in is that everyone gets a happy ending.

Don't make me lose my faith in that. please. But I doubt you can make me loose it either.


However, I remember my favorite shirt used to be perfect.... when I was a young tad that was.

It was white and I, in a moment of clumsiness, spilled so Coca-Kola on it.

I spent hours trying to get that stain out. I washed and scrubbed and got my mum to bleach that shirt, all for nothing.

It made me realize that some stains aren't meant to come out. maybe some just can't.

..
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..
..
..
..
..
..
..
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That thought depresses me. everyone knows happy endings don't have stains in them.

Shezzz.. so much for my happy entry !

But look at the brighter side of things, I at least understood that life's a bitch most of the time !

Nothing

I know what you're thinking -- doing nothing is an oxymoron. But doing nothing, at least well, takes as much devotion and care and concentration as doing something. Doing nothing is an art as powerful as being able to sculpt, or dance, or turn a small investment into a fortune. It requires the rare ability to let go of expectations and simply embrace what is. It demands rejection of the belief, drummed into most of us in childhood, that not being busy is a sin.

Now, let us not mistake doing nothing for its whiny, ill-tempered sibling, avoidance. Avoidance is a false art, like reality television, merely a form of distraction that keeps us from achieving pure nothingness. Avoidance is cleaning the house when we're supposed to be studying for that bar exam. It's deciding to finally learn how to make Thai food at home, not because we really want to but because it puts off the looming deadline we don't want to think about.

"What are you doing?" my homies asks when they calls. "Nothing," I answer. But this is not true. I'm putting enormous time and energy into answering e-mail, or answering the call, or just simply writting. I'm not really doing anything; I'm just not doing something else, something more worthwhile in the hierarchy of somethingness. There is a difference, and it's an important one, because not understanding it will lead you astray from the path to pure nothingness.

Truly doing nothing requires accepting nothingness in its complex totality. I stretched out on the sofa watching television is not really doing nothing, I am only not doing whatever else it is he has been asked to do or ought to be doing. Like reading the paper, I am distracting himself, and the effort required to maintain that distraction precludes having a genuine experience of nothingness.
Really doing nothing requires that you commit yourself to it. You must rejoice in it unapologetically, not with fear of discovery or worry at being mistaken for a slacker but with the confidence of someone who knows what she's doing and doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

And just what does one do when doing nothing? Doing nothing, as we've discussed, does involve doing something. That something, though, is different for each of us. My nothing is not necessarily the same as your nothing, just as your something is not my something. What our nothing doing must be for it to be effective, however, is a complete break from the something we are usually doing.

For example, let's say that the something I'm usually doing is replying to emails. In my case, my nothing may involve walking to the beach and watching the waves try to change the shape of the coastline. If your something is, say, picking your nose, or pretending to be the president of the United States, you might choose as your nothing sitting on a rock counting stars, or maybe an hour or two of finger a pussy.
The point is, your nothing isn't really nothing, it's whatever your something isn't. Nothing doing is an active revolution against the various somethings we crowd our lives with, an activity (or nonactivity) we do simply because it's not demanded of us.

Just as the profundity of a musical piece is often found not in the notes, but in the spaces between them, the beauty of nothingness resides in the quiet pauses between doing. There, in the center of the storm that is most of our daily lives, true reflection can occur. It's there, in what we mistakenly call nothingness, that our lives really come into focus and we see what it is we're doing and who it is we've become.

And that is why so many of us are afraid of doing nothing. Many years ago I had read in a book which said that meditation was dangerous because it taught practitioners to empty the mind. This, we were warned, was to be avoided at all costs because if the mind were truly emptied, in that split second when all distractions were swept from our heads, Satan himself would seize the opportunity to leap in and take up residence. Once he was in there, we were assured, we were goners.

As my own disastrous initial attempts at meditation proved, Satan apparently isn't as quick as all that. He's probably too busy doing something.

Still, I fear that we've become a nation of people afraid of clearing our minds, of coming face-to-face with nothing, because we don't want to face our demons. Certainly that's what the actions of our so-called leaders -- religious, political and otherwise -- would suggest. And it's what the actions of those of us who keep those leaders in power would suggest.

I wonder, though, what would happen if we were all to engage in a little more nothing doing. Maybe, by sweeping out all of the clutter that accumulates in our heads from doing something all the time, we'd discover what's truly important in our lives. And if we could do that, then perhaps we really could make something out of nothing.

ADVICE

-- Do it tomorrow
-- Unplug or turn off the phone
-- Get horizontal (or at least diagonal)
-- Don't worry
-- Stop making lists

Hell is Other People

I am not a fan of people. I truly believe that all people are either idiots or assholes until they prove themselves otherwise to me. People annoy me, vex me and simply piss me off most of the day. Whether it is my peers or my family, generally I am irritated with them. Fortunately enough, I have learned to put on a happy face as often as I can, I have learned to deal with the villainous treachery that is other people.

Most people are self centered, egoists who like nothing more than to hear the sound of their own voices. So unless you can truly catch their attention through words or actions, most people learn nothing from every day interaction with others. You must shock a person to grab and hold their attention. Unfortunately this is becoming harder and harder, people are now used to the sight of blood and gore, the do not jump at the sound of a gunshot in the distance. So one must be creative, original and sometimes more subtle and suggestive than openly expressing someone.

I say all these things about other people but I look at myself and realize that the only difference which I can find between myself and most is that I know I am being an asshole, which is okay because I know what I am doing and being self centered as I am, it serves a purpose.

Hell, the eternal fiery after life where the evil go to serve for their sins, so is this crowded planet, hell, not quite, because we are lucky enough to experience death what is after that I do not yet know. It is because we have death here that this cannot be hell but instead maybe more of a purgatory or a life to be judged so the decision can be made as where to send us next.

People are my hell, because most do not think for themselves, they simply repeat back the little they remember of what they have actually been told. They tell me that Osama Bin Laden is evil and should be killed, but when I ask what he did that deserves death the response is usually, ".uhh, well he was bad." People are ignorant, idiotic, moronic, closed minded, automatons who have the uncontrollable urge to speak at every opportunity. Not that I am any better, I simply understand what I am doing and why it makes other people my own personal Hell.

The Evil Telephone Booth - Story :-)

We were wandering through the junkyard searching for a some old rags which could be used while painting my house.. when I saw a beautiful black old telephone booth. I looked at my friend and asked him, “Is that a telephone booth that I see?” He looked at me oddly and said, “Yeah.” Grinning I said very sternly, “We should burn it.” He agreed.

We looked around the junkyard till we found some perfect oil soaked rags. We set them aflame and threw them at the telephone booth. The rags burned with the fury of a rag on fire but the flames seemed to have little effect on the Telephone booth. Frustrated but determined, we brought a can of gasoline and emptied the contents into the telephone booth and lit a match and tossed it in. The gasoline caught fire but when it was all said and done; the Telephone booth was simply a bit warmer than it had been.

Apparently this heat caused a strange reaction within the Telephone booth, bringing it to life. The telephone booth stood, looked at me and started to playall the ring tones. Then it ate my Friend. I came to the conclusion that this was an odd occurrence. I said, “Mr. Telephone booth , please don’t eat me, I still have so much for which to live. I am but a young boy. If you spare my life, I will help you in your conquests of world domination.” The telephone booth agreed to my pleas and we started our campaign to conquer the world.

Two weeks later, the telephone booth, whose name was ASS, was crowned supreme ruler of the earth. He was a kind and gentle ruler except for his habitual consumption of people. Most of the people he ate were simply criminals, so no one seemed to mind. He brought back gladiator fights and made people fight to the death for his entertainment. The people that lived through the fights were then eaten. As I mentioned, he was kind. He firebombed America and then gave it to me so I was the ruler of America!!!

The moral of the story is, do not try to burn magical telephone booths that you find in the junkyard while looking for a Rags. Magical telephone booth are thrown away for a reason and if they cannot burn they are probably evil telephone booths bent on world domination.

Sense

People are stupid, irrational, selfish and egotistical upright monkeys. I hate people. I may like and even love some individuals, but I hate people, they are awful. As a species we specialize in destruction, of ourselves, out family, our friends, and least importantly our planet. Most important to what I want to say right now is the destruction of ourselves and others.

Many of us have issues and were exposed to chaos when we were young. Because of this we had engraved in our brain from early development that chaos (varying types for different people) is normal. We grew up believing that it is acceptable for someone to become violent with us when they are angry. We never learned to accept not getting our way, we had to have it our way and if we could not then life was over. I say all this from experience. As most of you know, I am a clean and sober, recovering drug addict and alcoholic. Because of my nature, I live for chaos, I seek it out in people I have relationships with. I seek it out with people, I do everything which can do to argue, and find peoples pet peeves.

We need to understand that chaos is not necessary, not normal, and in many cases, it is unacceptable. We need to find a balance and set boundaries, and limit's as to what is acceptable. If you learn to decrease the amount of chaos in your life, it will act circularly, the less you have, the less chaotic people will be drawn to you and hence, less chaos.

I love chaos, I love it like their is nothing else in the world to me, but I am a very dangerous and unstable person with a disease of the mind and body. So I beg you to be prompt and decisive about the things you do and not let them escalate into life and death situations.

Addiction

I was having a chitter chatter along with one of my friends about sex and rejuvenation of one's self. While "she" proposed the fact that sex should be private and to be "FELT" not talked about., I differ.

For I feel, rather than "detailing" about anyone's sexual encounters, you can damn well speak about it. So I submerged my self in yet another Transcendental Meditative states and wrote about the so called "my addiction"

Addictions fall into two categories:

Substance addictions - such as food, drugs, alcohol, nicotine, and caffeine

Process addictions - such as TV, compulsive exercise, anger, obsessive thinking, controlling behavior, and sex.

Sexual addiction, or using sex addictively, is like any other addiction: it is using something or someone to fill you up or take away your pain. Whether you are sexually addicted or using sex addictively depends upon the frequency with which you use sex to fill yourself up or take away your pain.

Pain should not be misunderstood as any sheer pain we feel physically., it's the pain for Natural drive to reproduce which is opted to out-pour as a sense of pain in our mind. Or in many of my sub-conscious feelings, I feel the pain I am referring here would be the pain of loneliness or lack of attention.

Obviously, there are many different levels of sexual addiction. Sexual addiction, like all other addictions, comes from the empty wounded part of ourselves.

The ego part of ourselves - our wounded self - learns throughout childhood and adolescence various ways to attempt to have control over getting love and avoiding pain. In my adolescent boy hood years, I started to masturbate, learn to use some form of sexuality to pacify my fears of rejection. . When a substance or behavior works to fill emptiness, take away loneliness, get attention or avoid pain, it often becomes an addition.

Identifying my self with most of the above, I seriously consider that I am using sex to avoid personal responsibility for my own feelings. While it may make me feel good for the moment, in the long run I understand that it lowers my of self-worth. Anything I do to pacify myself rather than take responsibility for thinking and behaving in ways that enhance my positive sense of self, is self-abusive and self-abandoning.

It would be akin to telling a child to watch pornography or masturbate when the child is feeling like taking a piss, rather than attend to the child's real needs. When you use an addiction to pacify your painful feelings rather than attend to them, you are abandoning yourself - your inner child.

So., Next time I want to act out sexually, perhaps I should stop for a moment and tune into my own feelings.

Am I feeling sad, alone, empty, depressed rejected, abandoned, anxious, scared, or angry? Instead of pacifying myself with sex, I might have to sit down and think clearly about what is causing me to feel badly and to want to act out.

I guess I have to learn how on bringing in a compassionate spiritual Source of love and comfort to fill the emptiness and aloneness.

Crescendo

Time 3.15 am

Expansion of time in relativity to the theory of relativity.

Reverberating echoes of haunts seems to have completely engulfed my mind.

I sit, I stare, I wonder, I race, I stop, I go blank.........

Lack of options......Lack of options......

Lack of options seems to have numb my mind which has crept through to me during the past few weeks and has transcended into my soul.

Making me Numb.

Numb to the feelings which looking to explode out of my heart, Numb to let down a person who's waiting to hear me, Numb to the world around me.........Numb to my own self.

Numb like a charcoal gray day.

Sliver of the ghostly white curtain moved to reveal the cold sky.......the sky, Gray...gray as hard beaten solid rusted iron.

Light is dark and forward is now reverse.

Movement of the world had ceased to exist and stillness surrounds me right now.

Like a stillness of a dead body of water. The ripples once which was so happily lapping on the shores of my heart has now toned down to nothing but trickles of emotions.

Emotions which now I find hard to express, emotions so dry as the sands of Sahara.

Millions and millions of silvery arrows of pain seems to penetrate me... I hold my head down to ease out the pain.

BUT, pain is pain...and hard lesson learned.... "you cannot get away from pain"

Time 3.16 am

Nano seconds seems to be hours, hours seems to be weeks, days seems to be Ions of light years.

Pain travels at the speed of light.

Theory of relativity explained..... the hard way.

Dreams 2

I sit and stare at all before me, contemplate and wonder. What does it mean? It doesn't actually matter, I should just put my head down and flow through as I ought.

But no! I shant!

I ought to bite at the hook, do what I wish and when I wish it, grab this world and make it do my bidding! But is that sane? Possible? I really don't think so.

However, a man can dream....and I do dream--and life is so lengthily short. Crying has three things--Sickness, sadness, and utter joy. I only want to experience latter yet I seems to thrive on the former !.

It's far past that, and have seen my entire existence on this confusing ball of rock. I look at the stars in the sky and wonder--

has someone called me back to the real world, the world I know, no dreams, just work.

Work. However, I constantly gaze back, gaze back to the dreamworld, gaze back to what I wish and want so dearly. However, time has told that the unattainable is within perfect reach, dreams are literally paralyzing, so I must tread softly in this unimaginably strange place.

Somewhere under the rainbow
Living in life in fullest brow
We’re who we are and holdin’ on.

Somewhere under the rainbow,
Life is an absolute, faultless flaw,
Even though we just don’t have everything.

Somewhere under the rainbow,
We’re just dancin’ slow,
To the music in our hearts.

Somewhere under the rainbow
Together forever, we know –
Happiness at least, is ours.

Somewhere under the rainbow…
It just goes to show,
You really can live on love.

The poem is insipered by an event as well as another song by Joe Diffie

I listen to the rain falling gently on the roof. Spreading a shimmering curtain over the world, it washes all clean. As I sit enveloped in the sound, I imagine the rain carrying away conflict and strife, leaving behind a blank slate. In my mind’s eye all evil is washed away by the ceaseless torrent of water. The rain cleanses me as well, filling my mind with a sparkling stream. As the stream wends its way through my consciousness, it carries away the cobwebs and the dust along with all emotion. As long as the rain persists, I will continue to feel nothing, to be blissfully empty. I am as a child; innocent, uncomplicated, and wondering. I will exist in this fragile state, wandering over the freshly cleaned earth, until the rain halts and the glittering waves of water finally flow out to the shining sea. However, until then I am content to let the rain wash over me and cleanse me.

Dream

O unconscious splendour and fiery thought,
Burning tongues of passion eagerly sought,
Bring me sweet Elysian through Morphean eyes,
and play to me Apollo in Auroran skies.
Lift me up on Phoenix wings,
And carry me to where glorius Peris sings.
Where Mulciber sits on his throne of fire,
And in antiquity Venus brings each their desire.
Where dryads in the darkling dance,
And willingly we give into Syrens trance.
Where serindipity rules the ingle fires
And Seraph's play on gold stringed lyres.
Wake me not from my blissful dreams,
but leave me here beside viewless streams.

Crazy

I balance my craze on a razer edge.
Held tightly wrapped by one finger.
Contradictory.
but waiting.......

An equilibrium between sane and insane.
My craze speaks a language
The language of unspoken tongues.
The "awes" and "sighs"

Craze prefers silence.
It thrives and rumbles.
On thoughts of ambiguity
Cut and Bleed.

Blade slashes.
Craze makes a fundamental error of judgment
Slash my finger in two
Cut...cut... and bleed.. bleed... bleed.. and die die die die die die !


Call it Bloody Crazy !



Authors note : No fingers were harmed, slashed or died in writing this poem :-)

Walk On By

I walk to relieve the pain,........... I walk to be found
I walk to clear my head,............. and I walk to be profound

I walk to find myself, I walk to find help
I walk to find the innocence I once had,......I walk to find my lost soul

I walk to know how I feel.
But I am lost and find nothing

I do not get what I reach for, what I scream for


So here I am wanting more,
Reaching, hoping, tormenting, loosing &........ Lost,

FIND ME !

War

Playing with matches, they burn the suburb
From the ashes, will our phoenix rise?

Dancing with rifles, we’re kissing cannons all the time
Desensitized, is it violence they love so much?

Running with scissors, they might poke out our eyes
Believes they will get a brand new sight

Edgy, aren’t they?
Finger on the trigger
Lingering on Killer instinct
Letting the bullet be the singer
And hum a song of destruction

Violent violins
Molotov melodies
Soothing the beast in them
Shredding our flesh, sharp Do-Re-Ti

Artisans of their self-destruction
Architects of our self-delusion
Partisans of radical solutions
Painting landscapes of desolation

Pain Killers

Why do you need painkillers ?

To KILL pain ?

Pain is a suffering which has no static boundaries or set parameters.

Pain transcends beyond physical attributes of a person and can sink deep into the core melting point of any living human.

People in general are stupid, irrational and selfish. They inflict another person with such pain and suffering of immense magnitude without even realizing for a god damn nano second that you might be KILLING the "other" person...who is /was and will be an unlucky bastard to be at the receiving end of all.

I hate and despise such people, such people who are inconsiderate to the "other" persons feelings. I can simply write off "Those" people as a mutation in the Human Gene Pool... REMOVE THEM..wipe them off from the face of the earth.... for fuck sake ! .. such people are diluting the goodness which was evolved through millanias of evolution and fucking the human behavioral instincts and systems.

People should understand that giving "another" person PAIN is not acceptable. It's not necessary, not normal and in many cases it is totally unacceptable. Mother fucking bastards who practice this religion should understand all this and find a balance with set boundaries. Limits of what is acceptable and unacceptable.

Don't give me pain. I don't want it and I don't like it. I am neither a sadomasochist nor endorse such behavior at any given point in my life. But when you push me over the edge of buffer zone, I get violent. And when I get violent, I am not a pretty site to be around !

I love chaos, I love it like their is nothing else in the world to me, but I am a very dangerous and unstable person with a disease of the mind and a uncontrollable body when in rage. So I beg you to be prompt and decisive about the things you do and not let them escalate into life and death situations.

So leave me alone, I don't want PAIN from "YOU" and don't fucking piss me off.

But coming to the first topic " How do you KILL pain ? "

You can't KILL pain, you simply have to withstand it by all means. (without loosing your temper) or start hammering down each and every bitch and bastard in your scope of view !

A rendezvous of grim hope between heaven and earth

Profound meanings of words and thoughts fly at break neck speeds and leave you standard when you hear your own heart beating faster than a derailed locomotive.

"Hi, How are you ? are you doing OK? "

The word "OK" can have many spheres of meanings. But in all retrospects of thoughts.. Yes.. I am doing perfectly "OK".

But, In a concept of a revolving world, where do we as humans stand when the third dimension of our own sanity takes a nose dive.

"I just remembered you.. etc etc...."

Oh, sure.. now only you remember me !!

Women ! ... I hate them sometimes !

Run A Mile

Guns don't kill people, death kills people. Does it
really need its own parking space? That's for you to
decide. I love finding things that make me smile.

So that is your job for the day, make me smile, damn
it. I'm pissed off. I want you all to run somewhere
today.

Every time I turn on
the news, if I'm not hearing about religion,
government or war, I am hearing about how fat
everybody is. So take some action for once in your
life, turn off your computer, get up, go outside, and
run a mile.

I can wait till you get back from your run, and
if after you run that mile you feel exhausted and as
if you are about to keel over, do it again tomorrow,
and keep doing it until it is not that tiring anymore
and then do it faster, and before you know it, you'll
quit your bitching and you will feel better and look
better and have more energy and all that equals
getting laid more often by more attractive people and
that is what everybody really wants now isn't it?

And if you say you don't have the time, then I say you
are a fucked up liar. Because between the running and
the shower you will probably want to take afterwards,
it shouldn't take you more than half an hour and
everybody has 30 minutes to spare. Oh yeah, when you
are taking your run, leave your cell phones in the
house, use the time to be with yourself, I know the
idea scares most of you but it's ok to be in your head
for half an hour.

in God we (dis)Trust

I sit here.. watching men and women both young and old walking pass by me. Kneeling down.. crossing their selves with the holy signature of god and might be saying "God may have peace upon me" or the worst of cases like mine ... "God dude, just forgive my sins will you mate ?"

What is god ? , what is faith ? What is destiny ? what is the sole purpose of us humans having the thing called religion ?

There's no God in this world, I seriously believe it in the core of my own prudent and stubborn self. I believe that goodness and the wickedness alike lives inside all of us at different degrees and different scales.

Humans are also stupid. I believe that. Because I am one good example ! But I see my self as a stupid brat also. Rejecting the norms of stupid humans sometimes. I believe in a thing called True Love as well...Not one night stands or banging for the heck of it.... yet to find that illusive true love, I must travel a long way I suppose. ...............but I really do believe that there's no god in this world, they are all fakes................ Fake as Fish in a fish bun sold at our school tuck shop back in school days.

Gods.. the word GOD.. represent the prime and solid weakness of our own selves as humans. What do GOD's represent... Incomparable Perfection. From Jesus to Allah to all what nots of gods that have ever roamed the illusive sub conscious minds of humans.

We cling on to the hope of perfection that we can never achieve.. and create some mighty powerful GOD whom has achieved it. The absolute perfection.

yet, to be on the safe side.....

Compadre... I have sinned. !! May his holiness the god bestow his limitless compassion upon me and salvage my soul out of the depths of hell.

Through Space and Time

Across the Barren space,
Through spiteful time of vex
There is you !
And it's just sublime !

Violin - Play

I sit upon my throne,
Playing my violin alone,
Such sweet sorrow, I've never thought of play,
In silence I play, without a ply

How bitter a soul, how tender a sound!
Serenity in my soul has now been found!
A lulling dream, laced in despair,
From a fearsome dark soul's own nightmare

Trapped forever, in darkened fire,
Without hope of flying any higher,
In tainted wings, I hide in sin,
With my beloved violin

The notes float desperately to the Heavens above,
Daemonic grace, a monstrous love,
Who knew I could cherish her like so?
Decadence of sound from soul of hell below

Hearing the echo's of my own sound, I recall,
The tragic day when the angel did fall,
A tear proclaims great lament within,
To separate Oneself from Their beloved kin

A noxious moment, a wretched breath,
As I listen to the sonata of my own death,
A beautiful plague infests both ears,
Upon every note that beckons

Lo and behold, a great polyphony of strings!
Enough to rip me apart with sadness,
The sounds now bind me, like horrid chains,
And you may feel the soul's pains

It is difficult to know how a soul so infernal,
Could produce such beautiful music, eternal,
Perhaps I have never lost my heart,
to produce such wondrous works of art

Look to the sky, and embrace the rain,
Listen to my eternal disdain,
See past the fire and the burning coals,
And help me to free the withered soul

Darker sider of the Moon

Stress, Hate, Rage, Loneliness......ripping, tearing,
Fighting its way into my soul like an uncontrollable wild fire....

Solace I seek, but the
Bone-deep weary tiredness keeps my
Feet from leaving the road.

I'm on a dusty broken path
Strewn with broken glass and
Thorns from the Red Blood Roses
You sent behind.

If I only had the emotions
The energy to expend...

I would hate you with all of my being
But as it is, I'll just keep walking
Towards the end.

Darker sider of the Moon

Stress, Hate, Rage, Loneliness......ripping, tearing,
Fighting its way into my soul like an uncontrollable wild fire....

Solace I seek, but the
Bone-deep weary tiredness keeps my
Feet from leaving the road.

I'm on a dusty broken path
Strewn with broken glass and
Thorns from the Red Blood Roses
You sent behind.

If I only had the emotions
The energy to expend...

I would hate you with all of my being
But as it is, I'll just keep walking
Towards the end.

Domant Power

“It didn’t matter, any of it, the grueling battle to retain my soul’s integrity, the long pressing down will upon desire; in moments I had gone lifetimes. All that power dormant, sleeping, only needing the detonation of a touch to trigger a chaos in mind which subservient to passion, mind’s will extinguished in body’s will.”

Performance

I thought I should write about something extracting my self from the the norm. A journal of a sort about the weekend. The weekend of cource started as it should be. Saturday being a Poya Day, gave me an extra day to catch up on some sleep and be a lazy ass fagot which I always long for. (slept in my house after a long time)

I woke up the sounds of my maid cursing my Kittens. :-) .. what a lovely way to be woken up I thought. Turned around.. the bed was empty...and I sighed in depression of not seeing the slumber hit face of my GF as I used to see for the last 3 years. But nevertheless ..... nothing is gonna keep me down on this Bright sunny day !

Woke up, got a piping hot tea..kindly delivered by my (still) cursing maid. (later found that she was cursing the kittens cause they always takes the liberty in hiding in corners and pouncing at her feet). With the steaming tea on my hand and still half closed eyes... searched through the twisted bed sheets for the remote.

"Click"..."click".... FUUUCK !!!! I have switched off the TV last night than putting it into sleep. Too damn lazy to get up and turn in on..Fuck it.. reached over to the right had side bedstand and switched on my iPod which is connected to some sleek neat set of ipod dock I bought last week. .. "Strange Magic - Darren Hayes...." the music filled my room.. and I was in a transcendental meditation half way between sleep and awake.

You're sailing softly through the sun
In a broken stone age dawn.
You fly so high.
I get a Straaaaaaaange Magic !!!..../////
Got a Straaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaange magic.


You're walking meadows in my mind,
Making waves across my time,
oh.. no... oh... nooo
Oh, I'm never gonna be the same again,
Now I've seen the way it's got to end,
Sweet dream, sweet dream.
I get a Straaaaaaaange Magic !!!..../////
oh.. it's just LOVE
Got a Straaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaange magic.

I love that song.. I can listen to it 24x7 if I want too and still won't get bored. The melody and the enchanting rhythm is just what the doctor ordered to kick start your morning.

However, it got me thinking of many things.. especially about music. I grew up in a very stern parental background but I have been to and seen some of the extra ordinary music scenes one can ever think of. I have seen the first nervous performance on "kasun Kalhara", I have witnessed then unknown but the first superb performance of "Stigmata". I have gone around the world for work and made a point to attend the music scene in all of the countries I have been to. From 50 cent, Loyd Banks, Craig David, Rolling Stones, Madona to Linkin park, Lenny Kravitz, Aerosmith concernts I had the luck to grace.

And SLEPT ! .:-) .. as with all concerts.. they happen in the night and end around early morning. I wake up in the morning still with the beats and the thrill resonating in my mind.. I always think "what Great performance that was" and "how lucky was for me to be there to witness it" evethough I very well know that I won't ever see them live again or ever get a chance to stand and feel one of their live performances. But I am always grateful for just the sheer luck of been there to receive it.

Enlightenment !!

I turned around and saw the empty part of my bed again.

How LUCKY I was to have had her ! .. even for a short while in my life. How powerful her performance was in my life ! What a RUSH !! .. what a RUSH I get when I think about her ! Amazing human being she was. I know I may never see her again. I know I may never be with her again !

But I was such a lucky bastard to had her the time I had her !

Thanks !

Yours eyes are still unforgettable !

Ladies and Gentlemen..... let me officially announce you that I have seen the "other" side of grief and I am now out of the depth of depression I was in. :-)

Nice feeling to have !... if I want to dedicate a song to her "right now" I would choose a song from the same album of an OST from Ella Enchanted.....

"Ann Hathaway - YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE DANCING !!"

One look I was shook
And that's all it took
And now I'm open
As I walk across the room
I saw you scoping
Now I'm hoping
To get you on the dance floor
Come on ?sava?
Mon cheri amour
Let's be blunt
It's you I adore
Your mind, your body, your soul
My heart is yours
Now let's keep it real ma
You're the definition of hot appeal
From the top to the bottom
The bottom to the top
Baby you're hot hot
Come on, let's keep on dancing

And if you'll let me stay we'll dance our nights away
You make me feel like dancing
I'm gonna dance the night away
You make me feel like dancing
I'm gonna dance the night away
You make me feel like dancing
I'm gonna dance the night away
You make me feel like dancing

Practical Irony

“Out of my window is a rapid, blending and a dilute blur of present and a passing past. Inside my mind is a rapid shifting blur of present and future. Practical irony in motion."


Wrote this on the back of a Parking ticket last afternoon..while been stopped for the Protest (where some stupid university wankers protested against another set of stupid wankers.)

Strangers

People with whom you have contact every day often will not think twice about being cruel to you. They know your limits and know how to push your buttons. They know what you cannot stand and how to abuse you without doing anything obviously offensive or socially unacceptable.

Strangers on the other hand do not know any of these things about you on a personal level. A stranger will generally be nice if only for fear that you could be a barrel of gunpowder waiting for a spark to send you pacing from cubicle to cubicle with an AR Fifteen assault rifle pumping round after round into your co-workers and friends till finally you realize what you have done and turn the gun on yourself.

Strangers compose the majority of the world. If you were to simply take every man, woman and child you had ever been introduced to or known well in your lifetime, they would still only add up to an insignificant fraction of the six billion Sapienes that cohabitate on this blue and green orb. The majority of people I have encountered in my lifetime will go out of their way if only for a minute to help you out.

Onese I was staying at the my cousin's house outside of kegalle and was trying to find the mountain trecking club, I was very lost, and so I asked a man if he knew where it was. He gave me the directions and then had a short conversation about other places I should see in the area during my stay. Why he was willing to take a good ten minutes out of his day to help me, a complete stranger, I will never know. Nonetheless he did.

Strangers are an odd breed; they are unknown to us until we have contact with them. We pass them everyday in our cars or on the streets. They will hold open doors and smile at us. Make small talk help us when we are in trouble. On some occasions they may even save our lives. Firemen and police officers spend their careers putting them selves in harms way for the sake of others, ninety nine percent of whom they have and probably will never even see.

If there is only one thing you can truly count on, it is the kindness of strangers, because if you look long enough you will eventually find a person you do not know who is willing to sit down with you over a cup of coffee and listen to your problems for free. Strangers are the kindest people because they have very few preconceived notions about your personality. That is why they say, You can always depend on the kindness of strangers to buck up your spirit and shield you from danger… "A stranger’s just a friend you haven’t met.”

Wild Thoughts

The thoughts of what I am going to write down here was screaming through my mind like a de-railed train

Violent, destructive, deadly yet all seems so much in slow motion. I am feeling dizzy, I am not thinking straight. I feel like I have gulped down a handful of pills and flying a mile high. The total equilibrium of my sanity seems nothing but in utter chaos.

Where I am, where am I going.... where did I come from.. all seems nothing but hallucination. But then again, it's all seems a strange thought when you sit back and think about it.. one by one......one by one.....

Am I in dire love or deadly pain ?., or is it just a passing attraction which causes all these turmoils to bubble inside of me. In part, my self esteem and pride is taking a nose dive..... after all these years of treading this earth undaunted, how come one woman made me so unstable?

Or the point I am missing all this time is... did I find a Human being to talk too....rather than the stone walls I have made a close courtship of feelings all this time.?

Of all this time.. I only got one word that echoes throughout day and night... "Let time Solve things" ... for which I am waiting with one line circling through my mind .... " So close...yet So far"

And I find my self everyday dialing an international number.........then disconnecting.... and thinking of all the ways I can make my fingers numb !!!!!

and my mind NUMB as well.....if I can.... I wish I can...

Chapters

My head hurts, and it's not even the head that I smashed on the bed post this morning, while trying to beat my self up to my feet today morning. They always did say that love hurts.

Behind my pretty stupid looking smile, there's a thick film coating my teeth; and I can't help but run my tongue over it to see if I still have my taste buds in place. I’m not sure if it does or not, ‘cause my taste buds become extinct after a sour feeling of my self ran across me like something I have never felt in my life. Slurred words and tired eyed expressions are all that is left of me.

And I'm sure that you think it’s not your fault. It's never your fault. Nothings ever your fault. It's just me !! Stupid me going on dreaming of a better day all the while knowing I am running behind a mirage.

But when I could feel my heart beating inside my stomach, and my tongue became hot and bitter as my temples were pulsating; I clenched my teeth and thought of you.

But that's ok.. 4 days ago...in the afternoon...... I had to crawl across my living room floor because my heart broke into 317 minuscule pieces. I picked up as many pieces as possible and glued them back together with my hot glue gun, but not every piece was found; so I guess my heart will never be complete again.

How Bizzar

Streams of regret twist through my darkened soul. I see the light of reason permeate the translucent haze of my understanding but yet I still cower in the corners. Images of past defeat are the trademarks of my emotional compass. How many times have I wanted to go back? When did the resounding clamor of my promises dissipate??? why is it that I am here again??

It has often been said that hindsight brings reason into a situation. But why is that hindsight hounds me into turmoil? If reason exists in this contorted reality why can't I see it??? I can feel the vibrating chords of regrets chorus resonate in the chamber of my deep heart. I can see the blinding images of my past as they shatter the lens of my soul. Is my existence a metaphor...Is a metaphor my existence??

I see the actions which have driven me to the edge. I can nearly taste the tears upon my lips. Will a clinical diagnosis provide solstice? I doubt. Nothing more. The logical progressions of ideal experiences are intoned in my consciousness. But why can I not follow in the path of such logic? Why must I praise self-destruction like a golden calf? Even sleep deprives me of the escape it once provided. Dreams spit the cold venom of failure into the eye of sub-conscience.

I love, I hate, I rage. Extreme emotions breathe the steady flow of life into the lungs of my mind. Introverted analysis paints a picture of mental calamity. Extroverted expressions wrath the canvass of reputation with the dark brush of insanity, dripping with the black ink of Never Forget. How many visitors to the museum of my soul leave wanting a refund? How often are the painting in my gallery scorned??? Life is...Life was.. Life will always be...

The Usher will seat you now!