The moon triggered me

I have never seen the moon this beautiful before. Though incomplete yet I stare at it's amazing beauty, its solitude, it's silence. Through a little opening in my window I was touched by its soothing light, I was thinking how much I needed a woman's hug, her warmth and care. After all life's disappointments I look for a place to rest my head and feel I am taken care of. A woman I could trust with my life. My mind stops me, while my heart pushes me. I know times, and appointments, I know patience, trained for long years. Now the moon is gone again, leaving it's image in this dream in my head and some scattered words on the internet. I wish I could sleep again, dream again, rest again and die again.

Valentine's day blues

I was drifted away again today, the people seem so far, the sounds sound so faint. Memories are closer to me than dreams, and sadness pushes hope away. Where I have been and when, is why I am what I am now. Within me I am so disappointed in the world of men. Friendships are as pale as a washed away color, Lovers are so unreal as a fairy tale could be. I question all my feelings and doubt all my thoughts. Was it real? Ever? I sometimes reach a place where I don't know what's real from what's not. Consciousness is a slow moving dream, distances stretch. I am no gentleman, I am a savage wild animal caught in the shackles of pretension. I live to act, not do. Ah how I miss a dream, where I could be who I really am. This world lies to itself twice, once to others and twice to itself. Everybody is caught in this swirling wind of deceit and none dare to face the solid truth. A solid brick that puts a stop to all motion and time. I hit, faint yet now I see. What is life? love? What is the time we are given here? why? We tend to ignore awareness for sake of survival, thought as the clock ticks it witnesses the shortening of the time given. Don't wake up to such bitter reality, keep sleeping in your sweet time slipping dream. Watch the water slip through your fingers, watch that breeze fly by. Is it your life or mine? Does mine make a difference to you? well, your's matter to me anyway. In one of those instances to one of those beings I would really want to ask only one a question.. Did you ever love me? Whatever the answer is and no matter what I think It will answer my real question.. Was I real?

A Whispering Dead.

I have become so thin, so pale and faint. I am an image of smoke, a whisper and a still scent. My color is not to be defined and my taste is so mild. I am, am not. I drink and am drunk. I long to fly and yes I do. I was pierced and torn and scarred, pressed down and crushed. My breath was squeezed out of me, my life was snatched and pulled away. All that I am was buried long ago, alive I was but time outrun me. I was forced to dissolve, pushed to be consumed by nature and forced to disperse my being into the stillness of the soil. Roots sucked me in and I was no more.

The Life I saw and the way I went turned me into something, not someone. Stripped me of my identity and deleted my name. I became nothing, yet i am. Though I was blindfolded, chained, castrated, torn apart and burnt to carbon, reduced to my elements; I go to places no one can, I talk and listen to secrets few know about, I breed an offspring that no one can seize, I move things nothing else can. I am no ghost but yes I have become one.

I brag, to him who reads, but deep inside I mean it not. If my heart was ever felt, pride wouldn't be found there. But how could it be ever felt? It's so faint like a smoking thread, of a whispering dead.

Shooting at Sharm

It's been a week now here, shooting with a new crew and cast. It's a casino, with a lot of half naked girls. A lot of proud actors and malicious filmmakers, a few are good in heart though. I am so tired, had some serious food poisoning along with many other crew members, cast and extras. My feet hurt so bad, sore and worn out. Bad shoes, bad pain, fortunately enough I will get paid tonight and tomorrow I will get me some shoes and a jacket.

Emotionally I am so worn out, my heart is pierced with a pike. I feel as if I don't feel anything at all. Numb. It's just normal for a guy like me. I always feel so and it's no surprise I guess I am used to it. Sometimes I feel that I will never get married or have a wife. My heart is a frozen piece of meat, even when it beats, it's just sustaining my body. Dead is me. Dying was my life. I am sick of people, I spend hours alone. Solitude is pleasure, my only friend is God. I don't put my hope on anyone because everyone I loved broke my heart someday in a way or another. Some cut me deep some scratched my wounds. What's the difference? They are a factor to keep me bleeding.

Prey

"Nice animal, after the pursuit, after the chase and the hunt, could be very useful. Let's stretch its skin and make some sort of drums or maybe some shoes. Lets take isn't muscles and turn them into some fat and burn it for some food, Lets use its intestines to make some strings and bands, Nice bones, we could use them to kill more of its kind!" said the hunters.

"They killed me" said the deceased prey.

Scrambled thoughts

Years, I spent wandering in this puzzling, wondering what's the rule or the law that binds it all together. Looking for the one in a million million instance when all those rules break apart where supernatural things happen. What's love? And what's life? Are we meant to live a random life where love and marriage is just another trick or treat? Is love a feeling or a meaning or a motive? Is love a spiritual gift or is it just another satisfaction of needs and habits? In this life, are we all meant to be heroes? Or just some anonymous background roles. Do others exist or is it just me?

For a while now I have been separated from my senses, I do what I hate and forget what I need, to live. All my words make perfect sense if one knows the clew. and the Clew is always in time and place. My hand pulses as my nerves are over stressed. I want to hide somewhere where it's quiet. Solitude is a warm blessing sometimes in a busy demanding life.

It's been couple of days, didn't talk with God for a while, something in me is not alright. Maybe because of the now career I have begun. Starting over when I am almost Thirty! Will I make it somewhere? Will I see the vision fulfilled? Tired, so tired. Exhausted and beat. My body kills itself and my brain wastes itself, my life slips out of my hands and my breath cease. I have lost the warmth of life as I froze my inner feelings. HE said "go & do" and I went and did, but the price was so dear. Sometimes HE shows dreams and visions so bright and pretty, so good but the price is not always like so. Most of the time, a Life is paid in ransom. A slow and painful death is the only way to make sure other lives flourish.

Die seed die. you shall then live, and even if you don't others shall. You, little seed are good weather you win or loose a fight for your breath and sunshine. If you die you feed a worm and if you live you feed a man, then the worm but surface and the birds get you. I saw you swollen, I saw you rapturing, I sow some hope when your step pushed up. I saw some little roots, but will I live to see the fruits? O life of mine, when will you shine. When will you show, and what I believed would grow? When will I reach the end to what I started? The purpose of what I was granted? Sweet sweet day will I see your dawn? will the masks of your mysteries be blown? Will you come and stay, or leave and take me away? Spin O Earth and spin, release the power within, let today go away and bring tomorrow to the bay. I lived for tomorrow so long that I don't feel time. As if someone stole my rhyme. Don't misunderstand me for one who grumbles or whines, I love my life, but I miss so much.

A vision is a blessing but it pushes its seer to a loop darkness. One sees the bright sunlight then enters a dark room sees nothing but is blinded by what he saw. Science speak words of knowledge to be fathomed by the wise in heart. The wise knows things that Intellectuals may not link together. For the knowledge and understanding of time is half the wisdom. Recognizing the time and foreseeing beyond is only given and not taken. The ancient wise man knew that and testified that the peeks of wisdom are the fear of God. Any wise man would confirm, but the proud would desperately argue, but the words of the wise stand tall through the test of time not the proof of words.

Swinging between the peeks of wisdom and the pits of ignorance. But within me is a will and a determination, a persistent heart that keeps me sleepless and crying out loud with unquenchable pitch of thirst that is never fulfilled but by the springs of God.

My words cease.

Draft thoughts

Years, I spent wandering in this puzzling, wondering what's the rule or the law that binds it all together. Looking for the one in a million million instance when all those rules break apart where supernatural things happen. What's love? And what's life? Are we meant to live a random life where love and marriage is just another trick or treat? Is love a feeling or a meaning or a motive? Is love a spiritual gift or is it just another satisfaction of needs and habits? In this life, are we all meant to be heroes? Or just some anonymous background roles. Do others exist or is it just me?

For a while now I have been separated from my senses, I do what I hate and forget what I need, to live. All my words make perfect sense if one knows the clew. and the Clew is always in time and place. My hand pulses as my nerves are over stressed. I want to hide somewhere where it's quiet. Solitude is a warm blessing sometimes in a busy demanding life.

It's been couple of days, didn't talk with God for a while, something in me is not alright. Maybe because of the now career I have begun. Starting over when I am almost Thirty! Will I make it somewhere? Will I see the vision fulfilled?