This is where you and I depart. You portrayed yourself to be something and someone you are not. Another illusion within your childish confusion. Maturity, depth, and substance, are character traits you are incapable of possessing. What you do not know, and will probably never know. Me. You simply never took the time to peer beyond the hair. The jacket. The personality. The soul. I do not blame you, as it is not your fault. You were groomed to live this kind of life. Your parents, social media, and the propaganda of “Toxic Masculinity” has brainwashed you, along with 95% of the other sheeple within this global society. You cannot seem to find the term in the dictionary. Depth and consideration were never strong character traits within you. A selfish disposition is your body armor. The new normal. The new way of living your life. One. Day. At. A. Time. One childish fantasy at a time. Another death from childhood, which keeps your ideologies fresh and clean. You have been contaminated by everything you have thought was healthy for you. That type of death will slowly and steadily seep into every part of your being. This is why you will never know the depths contained within me.
Tag: #blogpoetry
Undertows
Words have undercurrents, or undertows you could say. Contained within these underlying depths; this is where the true intentions, the true meaning of that in which is being communicated and inhabits. This is also where the fragmented deaths you have experienced within your life go to live and breathe. Nothing is permanent, as life, and everything contained within it are temporary. Finding peace within yourself (within your words) is the only peace you will find within your waking life.
All we need to do is think for ourselves properly; never allowing external forces to propagandize our thought process. Many “people” within our current civilization, do not have the capacity to properly think for themselves, as they are strangers to the critical thinking aspect of their mentality. For the majority of “people” this aspect of their mentality does not exist. These “people” become confused when they hear words they do not understand; moreover, they become more confused when the definitions of words they use have been suddenly changed. Words are used today, in which their definitions do not belong to them. Change the words and definitions of the “people”; you change the way the “people” think. This is the Control Machine’s undying purpose and goal. To control one’s thought, is to control one’s very own soul.
Returning our mind’s ownership to ourselves, is probably the most important act you will ever endure within this lifetime. The majority of “people” no longer enjoy thinking for themselves, as they prefer to be guided, and ultimately told why, what, and how to think. For the majority of “people”, they no longer see the purpose, or find any type of need to think for themselves. It’s okay, let the Control Machine think for you. By doing so, the Control Machine will comfort you with all of the mental anguish you have always longed for. When one accepts mental laziness, one ultimately accepts mental death within themselves.
Self-Reliance
Henry Rollins once said, “…all you have is yourself and your mind…” Over the course of my lifetime, I have come to understand just how true that statement is. Self-reliance within itself, is truly the only tangible grasp one can feel within their lives, as one is holding on to their nonconformist ideologies. In case you were wondering, I have never been able to depend on anyone within this lifetime; let alone trust anyone for that matter. All you can trust is one’s nature, and how they will live their life in accordance to their nature. Resourcefulness, nonconformity, volition, and self-reliance are the traits of an individual, who will only know success within their lifetime. Compliance = Death. Not necessarily a physical death, but the death of your consciousness. Remember that.
Conditioned.
At this very moment. You are being conditioned. In thought. In word. In deed. They are not your own, as these are circumstances “brought to you by (buy)” the Control Machine. Your new best friend. Your new God. Your new parental advocacy committee. Your New Normal. You are living a lifestyle/lifetime, that has been carefully molded and mandated for the consumption and convenience of your consciousness. That gritty taste upon your tongue, and in between your teeth; that’s the taste of dirt in your mouth. What else would you be tasting lying six feet under, trapped in a casket?
Which One Are You?
They are still talking to me; reminding me how little I have left to fall, in order to hit the bottom of life’s cesspool. Another pacifist trying to give me survival advice. Another noose I will need to tighten. Another indulgent delight I get to take part in. It never gets old; pacifying the ones who constantly need too much attention. Death, will more than likely be the only type of attention they will ever receive from me. The tears and fears they spread amongst themselves. Another virus to add to their motion picture pandemic. What kind of face covering do you wear to protect yourself from their stupidity? Some wear pointy hoods of cotton, while others wear M-95’s. I prefer for them all to see my face; naked and bare, and the disgust which is displayed upon it. It makes no difference to me, of how the others live their lives. All I ask is for the others not to proselytize their stupidity upon me. Really? Is it too much to ask? They get bored too easily; with absolutely no type of personal interests whatsoever, to keep them sharp, agile, or even self-aware. Self-awareness is truly lacking within these types, as though they are expecting everyone around them to be as dull, numb, and as stupid as they are. Very few have the ability to honestly think for themselves. Tell me; which one are you, agile or board?
Life Crushed It.
The sweet moans of life being birthed. The confusion settles in, as the sweet moans are not so sweet. The moans are the crying screams of thoughts, goals, and aspirations being crushed; one at a time. Life has a curious way of encroaching itself upon you, and upon your very consciousness. Life has a sense of humor only it understands. Ha fucking ha. Cyclical. The silent laughter of pain, torment, and rage. I have gone deaf from the silence.
G.G. Kalfas 