Mottephobia

Is a moth naive hurling itself towards a candle light?
Did it waste its life as it expires in the flame?
Well, yeah.
But that’s only one way of looking at it.

A moth is drawn to light. Light is warmth and brightness. It’s purity and innocence. It’s clarity and transparency. I praise a moth for seeking light. I praise it for its instinctual desire to reach a higher level of existence. I praise it for its quest to rid itself of darkness, for its refusal to settle down with the shade.

Yes, it dies. Once it touches that flame, it expires. But what doesn’t! Every living thing dies. Every living thing has an end. This is the only rule of life. This is the only certainty in the world. At least the moth dies in glory. At least it achieves its goal. It acquires warmth and purity. Is there a better ending to a life?

We are the same. We seek light and search for warmth and purity. We desire clarity and transcendence. We would rather live in a radiant world of glow and affection, than a gloomy world of darkness and loneliness. Unfortunately most of us don’t have enough willpower and courage to actively pursue such an ultimate quest. Most of us settle down with whatever we’re given by our fortunes. Most of us fear living like a moth.

If I had wings, I would fly towards the sun just as a moth flies towards a flame. I would never stop until I reach my destination. I would sacrifice my physical being to such a meaningful and spirited end.

Haphazard

It's not like it used to be. It's not important anymore. The 'why?' doesn't even matter. The distance between me and what's familiar is growing so fast I don't see the shore no more. The world that I created for myself, and kept deep inside me, is free falling into a deep pit of secrecy and into oblivion. I don't know how I will face myself with that truth. Will I ever forgive myself?

I know nothing stays the same. My soul is about to find that out, though, for the first time. In the cruelest of ways. I used to be good with imagination but it seems I need to find a new insight, a new messenger to self communicate. I'm not fond of wearing a fake gown of mystery or complication. I'm not that bored with reality no matter how much it stinks. I no longer look for challenges to feel alive. I miss that. Perhaps I'm not interested in reaching down and exploring my inner feelings anymore. Standing still is actually bringing me a sense of comfort and security. So unlike me.

I interact with my keyboard more than ever because it's not demanding. It doesn't accuse me of being stubborn. It doesn't give me a smirk and tell me 'I told you so'. It doesn't judge my thoughts. It understands me without me having to explain myself. It feels my pain by a clicking sound with every press of a key. A clicking sound that speaks to my soul telling me not to worry. Telling me the pain will go away one day.

I need to separate. I need to get away from my inner self for a while. I need to. Disuniting me from my details and parting me from my privacy. May be one day I'd look back and just laugh at how much a fool I was. May be by missing who I am for a while, I'd return with a newly found eagerness to interact and engage. May be even return with a big celebration where we'd toss drinks, dance and cherish a random diamond ring.

Fantasy

I'm lying in my bed, feeling naughty. Quietly, she walks in the room. I didn't even hear her coming in. She takes a couple of steps towards me and then stops, standing at the edge of the bed. She looks me right in the eyes and starts speaking.

"Take off my blouse."
I take off her blouse.
"Take off my skirt."
I take off her skirt.
"Take off my bra and panties."
I take them off.

A brief few moments pass by, as she's standing there in front of me. She then breaks the silence and in a soft yet firm voice says, "I don't want to catch you wearing my things ever again."

Mental Suicide Note..

Don't kill me..
Don't kill the sentiment..
Don't kill the delicate..
Don't judge me, I used to believe in change..
Don't judge me, not even for my rage..
This is the era of pain and short breath..
This is the era of burning fires in the chest..
Time will soon stop, the earth will refuse to rotate..
Time will soon stop, the sun will look to relocate..

None will be spared..
Not a master or a slave..
Everything will go to the grave..
No one will stop the erosion..
No one will have any emotion..
The ships of hope are forever lost at sea..
The ships of hope can't sail in zero degree..
ladies and gentlemen, the end is near..
ladies and gentlemen, any volunteer?..

I did shout..
I did shout using loud metal harps..
I did shout calling on human hearts..
The theater of life is full of irony..
The theater of life is full of tyranny..
The sky is raining out of hunger..
The sky is torn apart with thunder..
Questions came in large supply..
Questions roared with no reply..

We were wrong..
We were so wrong cuz we didn't learn..
Our elders told us but we weren't concerned..
They said look out, love is under attack..
They said if it's gone, it ain't coming back..
Their voices full of fear rang aloud..
Their voices were ignored by the crowd..
Now we believe what they said was true..
Now we believe their words, overdue..

I will cry..
I will cry until I choke on my own tears..
I will cry until I deafen your ears..
Whoever's up there, can you hear me?..
Whoever's up there, I'm on my knees..
Where is your promised mercy?..
Where is it, if it's worthy?..
I'm writing this as I hear the approaching flood..
I'm writing this with my blood..

iCloud

The visible beauty of a pristine mass of cotton-candy clouds. Lacking any definite plan or order and governed by chance, they present an ever-changing yet steady stream of softness to life. 

A pure and untouched saturation of air with water vapor in the atmosphere molded by the flawlessly tender hands of the wind.  

A so common yet so valuable source of renewable spiritual energy
encircling the rugged earth with a fluffy cushion, spreading pleasure to the senses of those who appreciate.   
  

Satanic Profanum

<>

we are intruders in the fog.. looking for blurred-out images.. individuals chained to dusty memories.. that are not even ours any more.. we try to find, among those grey and undefined outlines, a sharper figure.. a hint in the vague horizon.. even if undefined as it might be.. and as we approach the truth, tripping over the rigid branches of fate or the slippery weeds of destiny, we only discover faces that are not even real.. just anonymous..

we are innocently naive.. we think good is inevitable.. but those who carry it are damned.. those who deliver it are cursed.. and those who receive it are forever chained together by the myth of sweet-tasting poison.. what an unbalanced path when we always have to lose.. 

<>

you rubbish crooks.. you useless apostles.. spread your pestilence with those dirty hands that are eager to relish every rotten soul.. those toxic tongues.. those black wings of ill omen.. you wait in silence at the top of peaks

ignorant of your choice of venomous actions.. 

you insult butterflies with your multicolored morals.. trailers of forgotten springs.. pay attention to the insult you profess through your true dark colors.. you should wear mourning clothes.. you should have your wings at half-mast.. all you do is provoke rage with your iconoclasm.. with your insulting perfume that destroys the now useless respect of red-brick mausoleums.. the hand of punishment will fall upon you.. and it will be justified by a hundred official bulletins.. with words that are more empty than your mindless habits..

<>

after all, the announcing of the prices will soon follow.. the prices of colorful silk ties, covered with symmetrical blood stain.. of patent leather shoes tainted with the scent of betrayal.. and when we pay our dues.. may be one of these days.. once the crippling autumn is gone.. we'd find a clear passage.. to the true but candid spring..

amen

Inspired by Norman Mailer's The Naked and the Dead.
Featured in Historia Sexual de O (1984).

that awkward moment..

sometimes you realize you're losing.. and that you're losing because you keep making the wrong decisions.. and that you make the wrong decisions because of your twisted personality.. that same personality that was once your source of pride..

ironic, in an awkward way..
having your strength be your reason for defeat..

life has this amazing ability to humble us in more ways than we can imagine.. its limitless yet seemingly justifiable unfairness, which is the main reason behind nicknaming it 'bitch', is really not the ironic part here.. you can face unfairness, depending of course on the extent of your tolerance threshold.. it all comes down to believing that you deserve better.. and such gut feeling will most probably stir something inside of you that will induce courage, willingness, and perseverance.. it will somehow make you see things though this glass of self-confidence.. and sometimes that's all that's required to pull through..

been there, done that..
yet, this is not one of those times..

no matter how tough it goes and how hard it is for you to struggle it, when you overcome an unfairness and you pull through, wow it's just an amazing feeling.. it's actually rewarding.. you feel you did it.. you over came the fate daemons in their own game.. for a certain moment there you feel invincible.. you feel like standing firm in the face of life and shout, "bring it on bitch".. 
life on the other hand is probably standing there thinking, "i'll let you have this one, i'll let you feel invincible for a moment, but we'll see who has the last laugh"..

life knows..
life always has the last laugh..

i believe the last thing we hear before we leave this living world and crossover to the virtual existence that follows is life's echoing hahas of victory.. 


now comes the awkward moment that led to me writing this..


i can actually hear them now..
guess it's time to say my last prayers..

Wolf & I

My latest music obsession has been 'Oh Land'. A Danish singer who's real name is Nanna Øland Fabricius. She's born to a music-loving couple, as her dad is an organist and her mum is an opera singer. She, herself, is a former student of the Royal Danish and Royal Swedish ballet schools.

This background of music talent and discipline, mixed together to form a unique creative soul that touches you with her simplicity and expressiveness.

Her official website is awesome as well.

Wolf and I

in the endless sky we are but one

in my dreams

wolf and i

before the world you know was like it is

i held a lover once and i was his

and we walked along the river in the sun

but he's a lonely man

so this was done

the only place we had to meet is night

while the sun he sleeps in shadows we can hide

on the mountain side we spend our time together

but it is gone

when morning comes

and you are the wolf

and i am the moon

and in the endless sky we are but one

we are alive

in my dreams

wolf and i

how many days and nights will come and go

while the only light you'll see is from my glow

there will never be a dawn that breaks the spell surrounding us

till the earth

dies with the sun

and you are the wolf

and i am the moon

and in the endless sky we are but one

we are alive

in my dreams

wolf and i

you are the wolf

and i am the moon

and in the endless sky we are but one
we are alive

in my dreams

wolf and i

in the endless sky we are but one

in my dreams

wolf and i

The Jack Kevorkian of love..

3 hours to midnight.. on the last day of the year.. next year is a few minutes away and i'm here in my room, alone, looking at a mirror, feeling nothing..

a year went by.. with all the good and all the bad.. but it was mostly the bad that hung on and had an effect.. a year went by.. and all i can recall are hard times.. a year went by.. it feels like one long dream that was close to being a nightmare.. only it didn't stun me into a snap wakeup, and just kept on going.. a year went by.. and here i am, right where i was, right where i deserve to be.. right where i'm meant to be according to the fate and destiny gods..

time is not meaningless, but it is in my case.. time, they say, can be the only medicine, or at least a painkiller, but in my case it was the salt added to the bleeding wound.. time, a year to be exact, and still i feel every bit of sadness and sorrow.. to the extent that i don't really feel anything anymore.. time turned me emotionless..

now i have to go through another year. and then another.. and it goes on.. time goes on and nothing seems to stop it.. not even the meaningless and emptiness of life..

i'm standing there, looking at me in the mirror.. not feeling anything.. or maybe i am but i just don't see it.. maybe that's why i'm looking at the mirror.. trying to see.. there's another me over there.. and i just hold this tiny piece of hope that maybe he's happy.. maybe in his world he has a chance.. maybe life on the other side is indeed greener.. that's the least i expect if this life had any sense of fairness or sympathy.. let him be happy.. and let me see that in him every time i look in a mirror.. don't take that away from me.. it's all i have left..

bye 2010.. welcome 20xx

UPDATE: RIP Jack Kevorkian

Author Unknown

Never miss an opportunity to make others happy, 
even if you have to leave them alone in order to do it..