For All That Seems...

For a fire that burns deep within

For a force that cant be expressed in words

For intensity I am grappling to be able to take

For a struggle that never seems to die within

For a smog that’s filling my lungs as we speak

For all the gravity I feel within

In that area, that so called place

Which houses all these things

Which are but a waste of time, if you see it that way

Words? Sound? Tune? Breath?

What can come out

What is it that’ll finally at least make an escape

What is it that the eye outside will finally see

Assuming, it does, of course

I am as eager as you

If this wasn’t such a struggle its made out to be

I would be sitting back with a pile of popcorn in my hand too

Oh! If only I had ever wished to be so conveniently fathomable.

I chose not

I wished not

I hoped not

Not this, not anything else

But I crave, yes. Unfortunately yes, a million times over.

But help it, I cant

To a Common Chord Then..Lets All Sing.

After a certain point, you have no idea what gets those precious drops rolling. A little something of your own or something that belongs to someone else? What does it matter, I say. It’s all the same, isn’t it? Your own, a borrowed one. The point is… the point is that there is one underlying thread that’s common to all of these stories. A common thread that speaks the same language that your story speaks. Its that language you understand and respond to. A revocation of the past? Whats to revoke? What remains? Why is this such a routine farce of living it up or living it out? Is that too harsh an expression? Is this so bad a thing? Rather, I should be asking, if this is how bad it can get. Why does it have to be? How long can deviations fill up. That’s what they all ultimately are..deviations. true. You never know what touches a chord where. You never know what invokes what. What lies beneath is common. The faces with which it comes into each of our existences varies. I know it as a lost dream, you know it as an unrequited love, or a passion slighted or whatever you might want to call it. The point is… it stays on.

One fine summery saturday evenin..Wen al's chaotic n jammed in pearl planet

Wats bad and wats not

Wat warrants apologies

Wat warrants confrontations

None I guess

The whole point of the story is that

I cant always be left to myself

And expected to turn out full bloom

Well maybe I should, ideally speaking

But fact remains

I cannot just go on just because I have to

Not now, not forever

Is there a pattern building up in all of this?

Of course not

There is a definitive difference

Between a one time fling

And a full time affair

And then obsession is an altogether different thing

Th point is.. well

I really don’t kno

I will not let this build up

That is for certain

But yea it was a crazy thing t do..

I gues.. J

I love nor hate

I pray nor wait

I sing but not

for someone I ought

I ought? Are you sure?

I look no more

To see if he’s coming

There’s no one there

Don’t you know?

Cant you see

As I see it?

There IS no one

There wont be him, that I’m sure of

What’s it you say?

There ought another, to be?

Oh yes? That’s what you feel?

Well, I know.

And this you should too.

Sit up, straight, you there

And listen, to what I say to you

I will not tell you words you’ve already heard

I will not chant sermons of life oh so sweetly

I tell you this, instead

Life, is too long

Too weird, not always a song

I wont preach I dare not teach

But live it all

As t’were the last

For most are, until they really are

The last, but then its too late

And you remain a lesson

Only for some other

Who wont, mightn’t and perhaps even shouldn’t, learn

For each his life has his own set of lessons

Live yours

To learn yours

Go on living

Keep showing up

Disheartened, yes

Desolate, yes

Alone, yes

Totally lost, yes

But keep living

Keep showing up

Keep going on

Until one fine day, you walk here no more

And walk elsewhere, where, we shall see

Sense and the Senseless?

You mean the world to me. I need you to be with me unto eternity. You are all that matters or makes sense anymore. I could not go on without you. It’s a humungous void without you. I wish you’d never have to leave. You make life seem like a nicer thing. You make living worthwhile. You render meaning to my existence. If not for you, I don’t know if I would have gone on living. If I had not found you, I would have kept looking. It could never be anyone else but you. You are the essence of my life. Without you, I am a desert, vast, expansive, but dry and mostly dead. And even if found to be harboring life, only the defunct and detestable kinds. Oh dear! What would have ever happened to me if not for you? Tosh! Puppy crap! Does any of that make sense? If that doesn't, as it shouldn’t, what ought to? Hmm. Science, I suppose. Market structures I’m thinking. Logic, I know. Sense, above all. And every realm and area that it encompasses and those myriad other known and unknowns that await the magical kiss of introspection, silently slumbering away until someone stumbles upon them.

Simply Put

A devouring cause. A cause that could actually eat into you. a cause that would eat into your very being and evaporate your existence step by step, inch by inch. It would leave no traces soon enough. And then there would be nothing to speak of. Not you. Not anything. Such is the cause that is needed. Perhaps situations or rather people decide such causes. Actually, what goes into a cause makes it worth all that much. The ruling purpose behind that cause is just what the people involved in it have attributed to it. Or, is it? It’s not unlikely that the people outside this cause, the spectators, have disregarded a cause and have hence been responsible for its slow death and its going unnoticed in the annals of history.
The point now really is, that I need to attribute that kind of do or die importance to some cause already existent in my unflattering existence. Or, if lucky, find some such convenient cause I can adopt. Or, here’s something that can probably really put some meat on it. Maybe I can do everything that comes my way like it’s a do or die cause. Its worth dying for. Of course that would be deception of the self of the first order. But who cares. I have myself something engaging to do. And I have my mind off the things that I will do good to not obsess over. Why do things always sound so simple in principle? And so herculean in retrospect? I have heard that personal tragedies bring out the best in all of our celebrated love poets and poetesses of history. I didn’t quite think that rule would permeate down to the likes of me. Okay, now that is one first order confession. Not that it should mean much anyways. Ah well, vanity thy name, miss. Maybe self obsessions are more like it. It’s not really a crime though, if you ask me, unless someone else is encumbered by it! I don’t suppose a lot would disagree on that one. Anyways, to my devouring cause now. And that would be, I am guessing, a book, that is called lion taming. It’s about coping with and managing all the undesired forces at your places of work. Need references from it anyone? Lol.