One fragmented disillusion at a time. Can only handle one at a time. Systemic retribution is annihilated. Quietly annihilated. Creep into it softly. As soft as you can. One breath and one death at a time. The secret contained within the lie. Incantated words of deliberate creation. No use for binding. They will freely fly away. Words fly away. Doomed to relive your faded ways. Within death’s eyes is where you will stay. Give life to yourself. The inner midnight radiance of your glow. I have seen how you have no more to show. More than what you have the ability to contain. Another onset through the manipulated senses. This will give rise to a specific type of self-doubt. Never ending. Always manipulating your biological rehabilitation. The never-ending cycle of neurosis. A mental rehabilitation. Spiritual fascination.
Tag: wordpress poetry
When Death Becomes a Living Life
Swallow the hollow words. They will never understand anything you have to say. Knowledge before swine. The eyes deepen, withstanding the test of time. The meek will seek the weak, as the strong snap their spine in half. Speak your bleak thoughts. They will never understand anything you will ever think. In here, there is no need for them to. Kill them swiftly, before they kill you first. Suffocate them thoroughly, before they try to put a plastic bag over your head. Act as though you are becoming, so they will never see you coming. They will never understand anything you do. Your actions surpass the other’s functionality. They have an absolute inability to perceive your disposition; having been subjected to mental circumcisions. Blinded by ego, arrogance, and a hex, their six-pointed beliefs are trite. Trite does not equal right; only might does. Living their lives as sycophants. Just as they have since antiquity. Through the Æons, only time and technology will change. People never do. You can no longer see someone as you want them to be. You can only see them for how they truly are. This is how you learn about the others. This is how you learn about yourself. This is the true method concerning the ideals within life, and the transitional point when death becomes a living life.
(Become your own god, as not to become the sod, which another may use to fertilizes their garden with)
His Canine Companion
Animals, and the connection the humans have with them, can be unique and quite peculiar. I have witnessed many humans caring more for an animal they have no emotional connection to, as opposed to another human they have no emotional connection to. Why do you think this is? Is it the fact that many animals, such as dogs and cats, lack the ability to survive on their own, without the help of another human? Or is it the need to care for another living creature, which may not have any physical power to overcome you? As I was driving to work one morning; I witnessed a passerby walk over a homeless man, as the passerby was showing quite a concern for the homeless man’s scraggly, unhealthy looking canine companion. This nosey passerby inquired about the dog’s health, and if the dog had eaten that day, as the passerby only cared about the dog’s health, and thought nothing of the starving man lying on the pavement before him. Later that afternoon, I had a conversation with a female friend of mine about the passerby, homeless man, and his canine companion. This friend became enraged at the thought of the homeless man, or anyone else who was homeless, keeping a dog, as she thought this idea to be inhumane for any animal. She justified that the homeless man could not provide the proper settings the dog would need, in order to have the type of quality of life for this dog to “thrive” in the world. I find it interesting how the others care more about animals they cannot communicate with, as opposed to those they can. I guess that old saying is true: a dog is a man’s best friend. So, next time you hear another human being talking about how much they “care” for the others around them, and how they love being around people, and how they consider themselves a people person; it is important to remember they are more than likely full of shit.
Daily Adventures
Do you ever think about becoming me; living, breathing, deadening the life I live? Of course you don’t. The butterflies come to visit me on a continual basis. It would seem as though this is some type of internal and external symbolism, which has yet to be fully revealed onto me. You would think there was some type of metamorphosis underway, but it is another illusion within the external realm playing tricks upon my psyche. Have you ever thought about the daily adventures of a butterfly? Of course you don’t; why would you? Life has a way of focusing one’s attention on the unimportant issues such as mandates, social media, cat videos, and what some “personality” says, thinks, or feels, about some manufactured problem, which actually has no relevance within your life as you know it to be- at least not the real life you are supposed to be living within this very moment. The distractions within one’s life are specifically created to keep one’s attention focused upon the toxicity within this realm, as opposed to the daily adventures of the average butterfly. Think about it, if you can. If you still have a thought process left. If you do in fact possess some type of residual aspects of critical thinking hiding within the modalities of your flaccid thought process. It is very easy for one to lose their mind within this current reality we all seem to be experiencing, yet the butterflies seem to be immune to it: the original natural immunity.
A Wide Distance
There is a spot within my heart, which will remain hollow and empty. The unknowing spot. The deep, hollow, empty, sinking spot. The unknowing spot, which birthed the plentiful knots and pains throughout my life. The unknowing spot, which birthed the inner convulsions, conversations, and contusions of self-hatred; spawning the actions of self-seeking. It seems I may have been born with it, or perhaps it was hollowed out early on in my life. I have sought to fill this spot with love throughout my entire lifetime; never finding a way to create any type of fulfillment within it. There is a living cycle within me; a seemingly never-ending cycle, which created a whirlpool of devastation within, and throughout my lifetime. I have opened myself wide, in hopes of another heart to embrace mine. I find there is no embrace, as I only hear a sigh, and see a turned back facing me. A wide distance; allowing me to see the true heart of another. This is how I have come to develop; unknowingly turning myself into the irony within my life: lusted after by many, loved by none. I cannot open myself up anymore, yet this is all my heart wants to do. My heart needs to be seen within the sunlight of the gods. My heart yearns to be heard within the ears of the angels; singing the Sun to sleep, awakening the Moon within a delicate aria. There are many exposures, which will allow you to sing within your lifetime. There are none so sweet and enchanting, as the exposure of your pure and gifted heart; allowing itself to sing, and to be known. The search within the journey of finding a heart like your own, will seem utterly hopeless: it very well might be. The only purpose in living life, is to give and receive love. When you live throughout your lifetime seeking this purpose and never finding it, this has the capacity to leave you feeling empty and frail, down deep into the depths of your soul. There are no limits to the emptiness, and the unfulfilling exposures, your soul and your heart will experience, during these transitional durations within your lifetime. Your frail and empty life may seem pointless and meaningless, within these overexposed times.
A Delicate Homicidal Device
A delicate homicidal device. The kind which tortures you from the inside out. The kind which creates realities you never knew could exist within your past, and will never exist within your future. It is a side effect of living life; being delusional while trying to understand the secret meanings within the strange occurrences contained within life. The types of meanings, hidden within secret and sacred symbolism, which the Universe surprises you with at very specific moments within your life. I have experienced these types of moments all throughout my lifetime, as they have been harbingers of occurrences to come. Sometimes, I will see the eagles flying high in the sky over me. There have been times, when I have seen anywhere from, one to five eagles flying together at the same time. When I see the eagles flying high in the sky over me, this is when I experience a deep, lonely sadness within my heart. Seeing the eagles, denotes there will be peace and uplifting horizons before me. All I need to do is maintain my course; getting through what I am currently experiencing, and all will become right again within my life. This has always been the case after I see the eagles flying high in the sky over me. With robins, I have always associated them with love. The Universe speaks to me through the robins. When I start thinking about, and wanting love in my life, this is when I begin to see the robins. I never see robins on a consistent basis, I only see them when love is about to arrive into my life. It may not necessarily be of the true type of love, a soul type of love, or even a lasting type of love. The love I receive is usually of the passing type. I know the robins will eventually send the real type, the permanent type of love into my life. Or quite possibly, the robins might be fucking with me. I do not think they are, but you never know with birds. It is important to never reject love when it comes into your life, no matter what type or form it may appear in. Love will wear many different disguises, just as she always has. Our egos, this is what will reject love. The judgement within your glance, is the same judgement glancing back at you. This is the reflected image within the mirror, staring back at you. This image is love. Love will always make an appearance in your life, but not necessarily in the form we personally requested for it to be in. As though the human ego knows more about love than the Universe does.
G.G. Kalfas 