sábado, 23 de maio de 2026

The mirror and the old man

 Complicate life the mirror said.
The old man said the opposite.
He believed there was much virtue in simplicity
But unchecked the simplicty the youth adore
Makes a fickle poisonous soup

The chaos you squeeze from disquiet
From negligence or impulse
Is a thousand time more ruining
Than the chaos of my ambition
As it twists it's very own threads spun of destiny

The old man said Don't complicate life
The mirror image of him spoke back breaking the glass
And within the cracks of the glass were the words
Complicate life written in jagged edges  
Zig zagging offensively across the glass.

Essential dissent

 I'm not a criminal.
I won't harm or steal
But I'm an outlaw
Not the kind on a motorcycle

I do not obey these laws 
This etiquette these norms
I have my own destiny
My own will and form

I must wander freely
I must rejoice in the wind
From any direction
The storm must speak to me

I am not lier nor a thief
Yet I will never follow your beliefs
Your compulsorys, your conformitys
So point and judge

Miss the mystery
Life has been distilled
Inspected and quantified
The result is only disputed

Make sure it fits your idealogical narrative
That it sells votes or sugary beverages

Hell and heaven from within

 At level five the architect who shapes your world creates long mundane predictable days.
There is no anxiety and no depression, the soul in question has a limited vernacular to describe their lot. Their feeling/understanding lets them know that their life could be so much more exciting.
They witness others lose and win, but they themselves never expose them to either. Their curse is the eternal sameness, forecastable memorized, routine. Envying even the desperate, for they feel nothing.

At level six the architect who shapes your world creates both opportunities for loss, failure and success.
With high polarity, allowing you to delve into strong emotions. To spend days or weeks in certain states that steadily propel you forward or curtail your progress and induce a sense of deep hopelessness and suffering upon your mind. Your blindness here is that you are unable to separate your identity or spiritual energy from your externally affected state or even passing moods, be they pleasurable or torturous.

At level seven the architect who shapes your world allows you to live through all three, the sublime sense of growth and progress, the feeling of winning. Yet on top of that, resignation, a sense of dull low activity and drive or obsolescence, where days have no flavor and life has no spice, no ups and downs. You will also live through anguish and affliction for the same time periods as with level six. The only difference being you will be able to separate your highest sense of thought or spiritual energy from all three modes of experiencing life. Therefore having more agency at the peaks and troughs of your existence.

Your level is not automatic. And at each level there will be opportunities to look for awareness. At each level there will be sacrifices to make to distance yourself from what feels inevitable, but never is. Your level depends on how much you believe or disbelieve you are the architect.

sexta-feira, 22 de maio de 2026

Life is no explosion

 I have faced the crushing fears
stood up knowing and trembling
Wanting the future and fighting God over it
He was drinking dark brandy
He spat it the fireplace, it erupted
Life is no explosion son
It is a torturous burn

Charletons will give you fast promises
Truths are severing knives that leave slick scars
The steel smelts beside the fire
Where god spat his dark brandy
Scooping embers out and making them float
each one a dread blinking into and outside of existence
Life is no explosion son


Brazen eyes burn

 Brazen eyes burn into me.
Split second you pass me.

 Narrow shades of circles.
Look at me questioningly.
Mind processes charm of them.
 Heart flinches.
 Mouth forms good morning.

Nothing follows.
Abruptly you cross.
 Part of mind and heart,
turns my head.

 I see you go,
 keep head still...

 It turns again.
I wish a silent farewell.
 Something glows within,
 Dull day unable to touch it.

 Rest of the day to digest.
 Brazen eyes burning.
 Questioning...
 Expecting...

Burning the portrait

 You are there taking advantage of life
Your long hair tells a story
you don't want me to know, I walk in foreign
The man in your life stands next to you

Such magnificient platitudes you both share
I am the listener the observer, I am strange
You feel like you are selling your advice to me
But I am not focused on your over optimism

Just the juxtapose of you and your man together
pretending everything is perfect
Sitting before the perturbed artist
Who cannot capture your likeness

For there is no authenticity
The world is not a purchase
Even as they teach you it is so
Living is not a recipe

You cannot cook yourself to freedom
You wander behind the white rose thinking you are invisible
You wander behind the red one and the color clings to your aura
I come into view and you blush midfantasy

The family portrait in spontaneous combustion
Can you feel that heat reflecting as the rest of the room catches
Can you see me holding the matches
Can you see me, just a cup of gasoline?


Separating the clean

 I'm sorting my dirty washing
In the last days of vacation
I have no time
All see that is clean and what is dirty

I seek what is mine both clean and dirty
scattered across the room
We give everything it's meaning
A funny obsession for identifying things

Will I fit everything in the car
Each piece of clothing
I associate with my person
Wanting all of it with me

I look under beds and through all draws
I feel naked without my clothes
I need to wash them all
Separate the clean from the dirty