Before I Swore I would be alone forevermore
The Blankness of Reality
BEFORE I SWORE I WOULD BE ALONE FOREVERMORE. We understand the nature of life in its complex subtleness. Of values and friendships that keep us bound together like the racketbox of antiquity. With its familiar camphor mixture, the dilution of the blood gives rise to the emergence of a different persona that seeks to strive and understand the nature of identity. It is a realisation so seeped within self consciousness that one begins to ponder the inadequacy of delving into the mysteries of DNA, RNA and cultural methologies and its asssociated anthropologies. The gist at times which shouts at us a loud "hey!" yet as screams that fade into whispers that fade into nothing. We graps at the empty visages with clawing hands that our minds believe are there, only to realise that the vapor in the wind is swiftly blown aside like the remnants of an extinguished candle. We forsake the ideals of the present, unappreciate the nature and nurture of growth within familiar environments and places for the dreams and hopes and desires that we know just might not work out. Like a bolt that has been tightened too tight, it begins to gain difficulty in the understands and appreciations of a different culture. Yet alone the facial values of our collective dissonance of member serves us into locking ourselves into such a path. What rather not than a disfigurement of a return. As idealistic as it might be.
The difficulty in backtracking in one's nature is seen clearly within the nervous system. We gain no insight yet crave for the very thing we despise. Notably so it is seen by the spread wing idealism of green pastures and seas and sea shelled shores. Yet we might desire the trailer trash lifestyle as an ample substitute towards the understanding and maintaining of artificiality of the visage of happiness and joy. Both being emotions with too many reminisciences that cloud our visages of memory. It is clear to be kind towards others, and that includes being kind to self. Not kicking a stone when the times have come to nothing. Amazing they say, great they so proclaim about how it reeks of the very thing we desire not to abandone. We abandon then crave the very thing we threw away. Like banana skins in the trash headed to incineration. We run not towards it in deeper understanding. Yet stand at the distance, desiring so and rejecting the very possibililty of realism to be played out, figuring instead of the theoretical models of understanding the likeness of what things might seek to become. Such is the waste of the complexities of life. Its vissitudes give rise to allusionary moments of grandeur. Seeped within the internalized passions to come real. It gains no momentum thereafter after hitting hard earth. We wax over the lyrical nature of the idealised life and the theory of gamers. Yet in no respite do we draw a nature of conclusion to the children who will doubtlessly inherit a heritage so difficult to upkeep in their ten pound lithe shoulders. Peace gives us no peace. We seek the very things we detest under the influence impinged towards us by mouthpieces that proclaim it so into a necessary evil.
One of the easiest things in life is to drive. Yet one of the easiest and hardest thoughts we might gain would be where to stop exactly. Where to park perfectly in the chasm of the minid as it envelopes the journey in the head to travel before the other parts of one's existence convert that to a similar model of reality that replicates the chemical imbalances within us. The confusion we face on a daily basis, with cigarettes and beers that lead us to do what we desire to do within the close quarters of others. The security and peace offerred in the ironies of places ultimately bring us untimely unhappiness of the future. The drawing away of future happiness to pay back the past debts of sadness. The ironies. The fall to the floor that slams us to sing. The desire to invest and later divest in time for a future stake in the vested interest of happiness for self and others and the animal. Within us strikes us the nature to win it all for ourselves then divest it all in the hopes that it might bring us meaning in life. Such is the human being, the rational thought conflicts with the peaceable desires of the heart to bring notion to us of happiness. Such a mixing of cultural clashing value systems results in a disoriented minority, yet in its very nature the pie will split along many ends towards the favor of one's memory.
BEFORE I SWORE I WOULD BE ALONE FOREVERMORE. We understand the nature of life in its complex subtleness. Of values and friendships that keep us bound together like the racketbox of antiquity. With its familiar camphor mixture, the dilution of the blood gives rise to the emergence of a different persona that seeks to strive and understand the nature of identity. It is a realisation so seeped within self consciousness that one begins to ponder the inadequacy of delving into the mysteries of DNA, RNA and cultural methologies and its asssociated anthropologies. The gist at times which shouts at us a loud "hey!" yet as screams that fade into whispers that fade into nothing. We graps at the empty visages with clawing hands that our minds believe are there, only to realise that the vapor in the wind is swiftly blown aside like the remnants of an extinguished candle. We forsake the ideals of the present, unappreciate the nature and nurture of growth within familiar environments and places for the dreams and hopes and desires that we know just might not work out. Like a bolt that has been tightened too tight, it begins to gain difficulty in the understands and appreciations of a different culture. Yet alone the facial values of our collective dissonance of member serves us into locking ourselves into such a path. What rather not than a disfigurement of a return. As idealistic as it might be.
The difficulty in backtracking in one's nature is seen clearly within the nervous system. We gain no insight yet crave for the very thing we despise. Notably so it is seen by the spread wing idealism of green pastures and seas and sea shelled shores. Yet we might desire the trailer trash lifestyle as an ample substitute towards the understanding and maintaining of artificiality of the visage of happiness and joy. Both being emotions with too many reminisciences that cloud our visages of memory. It is clear to be kind towards others, and that includes being kind to self. Not kicking a stone when the times have come to nothing. Amazing they say, great they so proclaim about how it reeks of the very thing we desire not to abandone. We abandon then crave the very thing we threw away. Like banana skins in the trash headed to incineration. We run not towards it in deeper understanding. Yet stand at the distance, desiring so and rejecting the very possibililty of realism to be played out, figuring instead of the theoretical models of understanding the likeness of what things might seek to become. Such is the waste of the complexities of life. Its vissitudes give rise to allusionary moments of grandeur. Seeped within the internalized passions to come real. It gains no momentum thereafter after hitting hard earth. We wax over the lyrical nature of the idealised life and the theory of gamers. Yet in no respite do we draw a nature of conclusion to the children who will doubtlessly inherit a heritage so difficult to upkeep in their ten pound lithe shoulders. Peace gives us no peace. We seek the very things we detest under the influence impinged towards us by mouthpieces that proclaim it so into a necessary evil.
One of the easiest things in life is to drive. Yet one of the easiest and hardest thoughts we might gain would be where to stop exactly. Where to park perfectly in the chasm of the minid as it envelopes the journey in the head to travel before the other parts of one's existence convert that to a similar model of reality that replicates the chemical imbalances within us. The confusion we face on a daily basis, with cigarettes and beers that lead us to do what we desire to do within the close quarters of others. The security and peace offerred in the ironies of places ultimately bring us untimely unhappiness of the future. The drawing away of future happiness to pay back the past debts of sadness. The ironies. The fall to the floor that slams us to sing. The desire to invest and later divest in time for a future stake in the vested interest of happiness for self and others and the animal. Within us strikes us the nature to win it all for ourselves then divest it all in the hopes that it might bring us meaning in life. Such is the human being, the rational thought conflicts with the peaceable desires of the heart to bring notion to us of happiness. Such a mixing of cultural clashing value systems results in a disoriented minority, yet in its very nature the pie will split along many ends towards the favor of one's memory.
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