It’s not really about the ground or the neutral state of consciousness of the mob. In any case many people spend most of their lives thinking about nothing in particular and talking about the same. Many people spend most of their lives imitating love and ignoring the same. Trading love for attention or need and chasing away the same. Care and attention wear the mask of love just like beauty wears the mask of wreck. Love is above. Don’t dirty it with casual words, or imitated feelings and actions. Love is above, don’t lower it to complications. Love is simple.
He, in particular, was always talking about some truths that I had not yet discovered, about some things that it would take me months to realize. Sometimes I was thinking that even he didn’t realize what was he doing. It was just so natural for him to spread truth around.
He, particularly, designed his words with the purest of fire. No matter right or wrong, they were pure. My poetry started loosing its meaning and that was a perfect sign for me of my existential collapse. He could not be compared to anything I ever needed to beware. I was ready to give him every piece of my share, just wanted him to meet me there – where every sound was heard loudly and every word spoken bravely.
I tried evoking love to come to him. He was empty though. Empty but not in the ordinary sense of emptiness. He was empty like a hollow guitar that resonated every sound, he resonated every truth, every sense. So I became part of him, of his insights. Wholeness. Now, we just needed to entail love in that space of ours.
He was empty in another sense as well. He was emptied. Emptied by people who didn’t talk about anything in particular, by people who took words for granted, by people who used actions as weapons, and not as representation of feelings.
I was mad at that, furious at those people. I wanted his hollowness to be filled with the sounds of love.
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No one’s ground, no one’s fault, no one’s decision, no one’s mistake. It’s just the way the world spins and the sun rises. That’s just the way the waves roll and the birds sing. Only if there was someone to hear them, to see them. People occupied, preoccupied, reoccupied, too occupied with the world that is created for them, instead of embracing the world that is given to them. People make what’s given insignificant and keep on striving for achievements that wouldn’t even matter for the generations to come. They push all the natural to the neutral ground, leave it there to not be. And I can easily keep on sharping my words, but it would scarcely change anything. I can easily sharpen my thoughts but would you sharpen yours back?
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They are like water to me – clear and transparent. I could drink them all up in a breath but I don’t want to. It’s not worthy. He is one of them and he doesn’t deserve to be forgotten so easily afterwards. Nonetheless, it is an interesting world that we are living in – everyone is trying to close their eyes and absolve their sins. But it takes more, so much more.
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Too close to my skin. I’m falling in the borderline.
A fitting representation of two souls as one.
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It’s truly a stasis.
Hold big thoughts and spend them on nothing.
The doors are closing now, run to the window.
I will await down to catch your spilled feelings.
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That’s not me who you see. That’s where I live. It’s not me who walks on those sidewalks, who goes up and down the stairs. It’s not me who crosses the street. It’s not me who looks at you. It’s what I look through. It’s where I live now. That’s where my eternity is put into boundaries. I’m in the `someday` and breathe through the `always`. I ramble. I gamble with the things my body does, so that I could stay here among you a little longer. Bodies are taught in dependence, whereas I had no teacher. I am the original sense, I am the authentic vibe. The common vibe. The one that goes between me and you, him and her, and then between all of us, and then….
I lost everything today and I haven’t felt more alive. In the endlessness. Fragment and defragment. You lose things in your touch with bodies. Something in the way I exist makes people feel doubtless. I got too close to what my body was doing and I got wounded by the mediocrity of the feelings it gets. Reason comes after, if it comes at all. I got lost in reason once. That’s when I start losing the vibe but it did not lose me. It came after me and got me by the hand, and then I smiled with a smile only closed eyes can see, and then I breathed again infinitely, and then…
I look at the wind and it reminds me what I am. I am ephemeral, I am eternal. I am here and I’m there. I’m too young in time to care. I only know how to dare cross all the lines they draw, and all the fields, all the mountains, all the seas and then…
I see the size of colours
The scope of the vibe.
The great escape.
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These little black dots just came out of their oblivion. They try to form themselves again on the other side. I like that try, I like that someday in which it all be worthy. But the message will never arrive, the birds dropped it in the ocean of forgetfulness. The idea is gone. But look at the people. Ever since you can see you look at them. But see them. Feel them. They don’t want what they got, but they also don’t want what we have in mind to give them. It’s only a silence of actions. You can’t live in a corrupt society and be still. You can only dance. It’s a representation of a thought that sometimes arrives more than late. And you dance. You dance on the sound of screams and in the background are their horrified faces. You can’t deny what lives inside your voice. You cannot escape what wants to live through your voice. And they don’t have a clue. You hold the clue on every step of your dance. But the ground beneath you cracks because of the power of their voices and the horror. And I don’t like what they do to you. I don’t like the trend. They are only there to breed guilt in your mind. This city is the pearly elitism of our fleeting time here. If we walk ourselves out of the economic system, the birds will still be flying, but the voices will still be heard too. We cannot wash away entire lifetimes. You cannot search for the message in the ocean that’s not yours. Unfair, we are not where we want to stand tonight. Unfairly, we are too close to the ground to stand up so easily. It’s just sad. Because people can be bad in so much more aspects than those in which they allow themselves to be good. That’s why they keep falling. Like leaves. But we cannot keep them from falling on the ground. No one is strong enough to fight the inevitable.
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Comfort is the feature of the closed mind.
A voice it is, they say.
It is not even a whisper anymore, if you ask me.
My mind is gambling with `yes` and `no`.
Oh, what a performance of doubt.
Simply, there are people who are worthy to suffer for. But don’t take the short cut, never take the short cut.
There’s where the story stays.
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A water that shares too many seas. A sea that shares too many shores.
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How many times I’ll have to break myself before my pieces are all gone…You should make up your mind now, because my attitude towards your indecision will end up in an unpleasant way. My words stay silent sometimes, my pen, though, won’t spare you what you deserve. What troubles you you deal with by noon and then you are ready to mess it all up again. Fast and firm. All this is getting tense but it’s not starting to make sense
I’d probably prefer the little loveless at the end. Never mind all the troubles that he caused.
Sometimes in a far-away land,
we encounter close-to-us people.
Sometimes in them,
we find out needed freedom.
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