It might be necessary to simply let go of wanting to achieve hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals. It might be necessary to simply let go, and to live life within one’s true self. There is no external world, for hopes, dreams, aspirations, and goals to live within, as these types of paradigms only exist within the external, not the internal. I am my own internal and external. I am my own consciousness. I am my own reality. I am beginning to see just how frivolous the external world of achievement truly is. Achievement within the external is measured by what you can get, how much you can get, and how one may look within another’s eyes. What a waste of energy that is. Living one’s life, has truly become a lost artform. Not many of the others possess any type of comprehension of what consciousness truly is. It is another lost regimen, an informal specimen within the cracks and crevasses of the human soul. Life without a purpose or a goal. Living deep within a self-created hole. It is the living manifestation within fear and hesitation, which creates the worthless glorification of life’s cessations. There is no more life to live or to give, within a name with no meaning. The robin has always flown alone, searching hurriedly for his lost home. Looking for a place he can fit in, but has not found a place where he can begin. Life began a long time ago, yet Death has pulled a thread, which Life forgot to sew. Rip, torn, and spread, the life which was once lived and read. Another sarcasm, another phantasm, another reason, another internal treason. When eyes have the power and possess a taste which is sour, dirt shall be all which is left to devour. Another truth with no worth, another psychological mishap, another verbalized jaw strap. The conclusion to a life once lived. It died a long time ago, along with the goodness in me.
Tag: #darkpoetry
Tomorrow is Now
How much longer do you think you and I have left? I am not sure either. This is why you and I must treat tomorrow as if it were today; as if it were now- as if it was occurring at this very moment. It is interesting, as you and I do not know what will occur tomorrow, let alone within the next five minutes. Consciousness transitions both time and space, yet consciousness also transcends within itself. Life is a state of consciousness, just as death itself is. There is no escaping tomorrow, as at one time, right now, was once considered tomorrow. Fucked up how that works; isn’t it? But then again, you and I are pretty fucked up.
Sin and Sorrow
There are no words I can use, which you will not misinterpret or abuse. A loose fuse, dying to lose. If there was one thing I could choose, would be to forget the memories, which haunt my thoughts every second I live within this life. There is nothing else contained within this life, which I could use to rhyme. It seems that time has run away from me, and has sought greener pastures without me in it. So, now I am here, with nothing and no one listening loud and clear. How else did you think it was going to end? A red rose, which smells sweet and romantic, or a delusional oppressed mind, running in circles, fragmented and manic? Life is a cycle of sin and sorrow, with no afterthoughts of death tomorrow. Sometimes life just does not rhyme, yet whether or not if it does, we all will eventually run out of time.
Pretentious Pretending
The sounds of the sirens keep knocking. The looks from their eyes keep staring. An easy distraction, which will pull you under its spell. Basic words for basic minds. I know you don’t mind. I know you do not understand my words, wordings, or meaning. A one hit wonder that no one wonders about. A cyclops-minded type of enthusiasm, which leaves you emptied, but full of guilt. Those day have now died, along with the attention you once had. And no, you will never see it again. I know you still do not understand my words, but your pretentious type of pretending suits you the best.
The Potential of Your Internal Nature
The dead always wonder what happened to their life. Where did it go? How did they get here? Why do I feel numb? Some of the living ask themselves the same questions. It is said the most important part of living, is the way you lived your life, the quality of one’s character, or if they found true love or not. Non of this is true. In this reality, none of this matters. The only thing that matters, is your internal nature. If one lives their life in accordance to their inner nature, then one has lived throughout the potential of their existence within this mortal realm. If you think or feel my claim is false; ask anyone who has crossed-over and came back, or any entity who has crossed over and didn’t come back. They will most certainly back me up on this.
Fully. Completely. Thoroughly.
The deep chasms keep burning their thoughts into my soul. Another leftover for a new remembrance. They are always the same. Bitter. Bloody. Breakable. Gnawing deeply into the marrow. Drink of the sweet juices contained within their thoughts. I enjoy feasting upon their forgotten memories. Their old remembrances. My new pleasure. A toy to break at my convenience. A life to take to the grave. A secret to nourish into extinction. The slopes of the female form. The devastation I can provide for them. Traumatizing their embodiment. Fully. Completely. Thoroughly.
G.G. Kalfas 