The World

Oh but how hollow I have seen myself
And the mirror deceives as it gleams my reflections off the walls

But it is only me.
It is only me.

Darling, what that I have past the time where I had once loved.
And in this I have landed somewhere far away
Far far into the beyonds of plains that your minds-eye could never go beyond.

I have seen it!
I have captured it…

But where do you sleep now?
Is it not in the same way as you have before?
But then why do I struggle?
Why do I pine for something that does not exist?

My dear, my dear,

But you see that I am who I have always been!
That much I have seen, that much I must see.
For I am the madman that stalks,
and never leaves

Gestalt

Walked into river
River much too cold

Cold is bad
made me think to want warmth.

Fire is warm
then hand get closer

Hot is bad
made me think no good at all.

Met a good man
he gave many gifts (wine and food)

Gifts are good
made me think to do the same.

I gave gifts (wine and food)
people angry, say I try to please too much

Gifts are bad
I will not give as much.

Good and evil
both the same

Will you dare, to make this claim?

Mother’s Bones

For two or four nights I walked alone
And in my walking I carried my mother’s bones.
She had passed away centuries ago,
But in our day and age
These were some lovely bones

I walked across mountains
But never seas
I trampled over vegetation
But never good mead

And where there was good rest, I asked for it
And the people they always, complimented my good bones.

Yes! I proclaimed, these were the finest bones a man has ever seen
Porcelain in quality, just a lovely sight for
Me.

But two nights past and I felt that I had come a long way
I dropped my mother’s bones and left for some other day.

When to make decisions

A note to self:

Think! What will the future me see about this that I do not see now?

That I want to act upon what things?
Minimizing regret, what I should do, ought to do –but there’s what’s hidden, what I will to do.
But is my will stubborn? And was this stubbornness knocked out of my two feet into humility? And was my stubbornness that bore me to the other side?
But then why do I fight?
Because man is becoming in all fighting.
But I do not fight for myself.
I fight for the goal.
The cause.
And that I should fight for it in all things I do or say –my striving.

That I should want humanity to look upon this decision one day and understand. That this is what must be done to arrive at anything.
That this process exactly, in vain, in spirit, in love, in hate, in dread, in fear! The worst bouts of fear! Be exactly what is willed and said.
That in essence, I cannot prepare for the decision I wish to make now, and that I can only have the ability to make the decision when I see my Dad, and within that time frame. Indeed that that is what can inform my decision, and that anything I make as a decision before that decision point is a weakness in my heart, and an unwillingness to compromise myself.
I must see the situation –then decide.

But the human would seek to erase what bothers him so quickly, to make it so that a decision is so arbitrarily made.
Is that what would compel all people nowadays? The illusion of decision, that is what I see, that people don’t see that all things are necessarily only within moment. But then we’re tricked by asynchrony. It would have us believe that things are happening as we are not there, and that we also by reflex are always capable and have the option of referencing “there.” There is no there, only here. And that a persistent data store would confuse you with a permanence that’s not there.

That’s not existent –you exist as you act, but are your actions really optionless? There is only so many options, but those options you must decide for yourself.
Based on this moment, this without any reference from the past: must I decide.

The Cold

To all I can see
I am unclean
bathing in waters
I shall never leave

Let the cold waters
run through my soul
and find fire within
does it douse it out — no.

Moving on fire
walking on ice
The simplest bridge
towards passion and vice

Told me your hour
was still yet to come
what have we done
but squandered our lonely —
bear with the pain I see, the ocean waves will never cease
And here I know what’s in my soul
It’s nothing I will ever be

So broken and shattered
I’m waiting for you
So making it past me
Is something I knew

And what’s more for me, the evening of death
And where do we stand in loneliness.

Hm

Shine a light, my waking moment
Closing light, a dawning time.

In angels wings I rode to heaven
And in the battlefield, they stood and fought

My abandoned values, I watched as they starved themselves, maimed the others, spoke, and loved, and spilt their blood, as I left their lands, cast above.

Could I not see? Could I not but hear the muses sing? Oh but there are no muses, I have been deceived! Who called out that this is where the miracle speaks?

Who calls out? The air my dear. And I have left my values, fighting as I stare.

A Journey

He speaks, “I sat on a ship waiting for the storm to take its toll. The people they asked if this would be their last home. I shouted and cried, yes! Indeed this the end of their lives! But I seek new lands, how stubborn of me!

So the storm began –the tepid seas quickly changed and became, the most vicious of seas
And my god did I fear, the worst to come!

But just as the pouring and shaking was reaching its worst, and the waves they clashed upon on our poor hearth,
A serpent evil, slithered onboard, and in its evil, whispered a song.

Continue reading

Goodbye

Her smile she speaks
and says that kindness above all is what she must preach

I look in her eyes and see no deceit
a lover I find
but not of mine.

I think of her feats,
they are not much to me,
but still I think of her
and think –that I should continue on with her despite my leave.

I consider.
I think.
I could leave with her –a message or link, a memento or way, for maybe someday!

Someday… I wish, but then what’s this burden I feel?
I consider her smile, I consider her pain,
and how inconsiderate if I were to tell her,
that maybe someday…

Maybe someday… would I create this way?
But then I’ve given us both the worst,
that I could not come to truly leave.

I look at her smile,
I think of what she speaks.

Above all be kind.
Goodbye for now.

And there is no deceit.
Goodbye I’m sure.

My lover she speaks,
and though I wish to hear,
and though I wish to see,
and though I wish to help,
and see the cheers and cries of triumph and defeat…

Though I wish that maybe someday…
Today I say Goodbye,

Goodbye I hope
Goodbye I stand
Goodbye and wish, that perhaps we’ll cross again.

Fake — Part 1

I write, “Mother, Father, I’m running away from home! I no longer wish to see the tears roll down your faces. Is much too much for much of me.

I wish for clearer skies and wishful breezes, the kind that lift one’s spirit, despite one’s body being seldom lifted.

I move to Vancouver tomorrow, I do not wish to be spoken to, I do not wish to hear from you.

I hope you will respect this final wish as I do not know how long I will need.

Bye,
Isaac”


I leave the flimsy sheet of paper on my wooden desk at home. The airplane ticket is already booked, I just need to head to the airport.

I call my friend who’s supposed to be picking me up. The other end rings several times, then drops to mailbox. I shrug and grab my backpack and the gym bag I packed the night before, I head out the door and begin walking.

I think, “People can’t be depended on. This much I know is true. So true, that I can not even depend on myself.

What is wrong… that I could have what I think is good and still be felt as wrong?”

My phone rings, my friend has called back. I pick up.

She speaks, “Hey, sorry about that, was still in the gym. Are you leaving early?”

I shake my head, “On time.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry I’m running home right now, I’ll pick you up?”

I hang up. I think, “People can’t be depended on. How many excuses, how many lies! Told over and over again, this: the greatest lie –the last time.

How short-sighted can humans be? Terribly so, terribly so.”

My phone rings. I hesitate, I want to leave it, yet I squarely pick up.

I speak, “So…”

A different voice speaks, “This is your Mom. What the hell are you doing?”

“Mom, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“You’re making me worried! You shouldn’t do that, you’re my son. Aren’t son and mother always supposed to be happy?

I’m coming home, will you stay?”

“I’m leaving Mom,” I hang up.

I go to my friend’s contact and delete her from my phone. Several more calls come to my phone. I silence them and continue walking.

I think.