Tag Archives: dreams

Office Lights

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City Street At Night Wallpaper Desktop Background by Stina Haglundh

 

In the dark of night, the city burned

Lamp haze illuminating out towards alleys and their mysterious corners,

Ordinary objects of notice depending on circumstance

Lining the drive forward one beacon after another

 

The car encapsulating our secret, you distant

Yellow windows arranged into faces peered down and I just kept thinking,

“how many of those poor lonely bastards are still caged in their towers?”

Whether intentionally or not

 

It was at this moment that my voice betrayed me

Completely consumed by the lit geometry of society

I didn’t feel your attention, didn’t hear your question

But there I was replying to something worth answering

“I hate it here.”

 

The last word trailing off into the hum of the car engine

Shadowy fingers of night reaching out and grabbing any response given,

I found myself silenced in the despair of confusion

Bewildered by my bizarre state-of-being

 

You kept driving to the center of everything

The weight of your hesitation creeping over the center console,

Isolating my thoughts to focus on sensing rather than seeing

As we always tend to do

 

Eyes glued to the graveled shoulder of pavement

Never daring to confirm if you were still in the car with me,

Knowing and questioning through the silence

Feeling insecure and lost in the absence

Thinking back, I’m not sure where I meant by ‘here’

The metropolis mirroring my favorites of experience,

Chicago, New York, Dublin, Miami

Visions design a conglomerate of what it is and what I’d like it to be

 

Claiming architect to discern the meaning, if any

Retelling the story as if there’s supposed to be an epiphany,

Over and over the memories tickle reasoning

As flashes of office lights dance behind my eyes

 

I am grateful for car rides ❤

Underground

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Ignoring his creamy fingers soiled muddy

Palms pressing on earth as fragile limbs fist one by one

Modest wishes leave him tempted of lifting substance

His innocent curiosity alerted to grasp the gravity of power

Existence watches on in rebellious indifference as

Black dirt sifts through self and back onto ground

The overhead light bulb swings in motion of the day

A pendulum of awareness forced from underground

As a child of wonder is sheltered in the recesses of a broken World.

I am grateful for solidarity ❤

Robots

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Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

we are all robots with our industrial legs and arms

emitting static data through chained sprocket mouths

chewing down on metal teeth while spitting out sparks;

tasteless words to condition into subjection

the accomplishment of production as day’s profit

obtaining satisfaction in facilitating the genocidal submission

with one’s own expiration date stamped axiomatically;

one by one we live, work, and die

I am grateful for the heavy hearts ❤

Monthly Archives: September 2013

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Monthly Archives: September 2013

Dancing

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Muscles relax and unclench
Stretching out past the movements of the day
Music floating, strobing electronic symphonies of post modern instrumental harmonies
Synthesizing feelings, connecting to the slightly monotonic pumping beats
Gathering and interpreting thoughts Classifying wisdoms to the count
Of the sound, as if nothing else matters
All of the everyday chatter and the confusing banter, not relatable to anything remotely rational
Senseless noise fades out into the translucent wavelength of a vibrational humming
Gathering together and tickling tiny antennas attracted to any audible sensation
As long as we’re listening
A mournful ending of a connection severely shattered by the limited time of evaluation, appreciation
An attachment to something almost tangible, or as defined by the tangible like addiction for more
Until the first few seconds of the next cry out for attention
A battle for the extreme devotion of claiming soul
Moving body to follow the drumming heart intoxicated by the challenge to go faster, harder!
The satisfying reassurance of head once thought catches up:
This sounds like a promising song to get lost into.

I am grateful for my love of dancing

The Ultimate Experience

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Another interpretation of the

ultimate experience and

To feel the response of true

compassion, passion

in return.

Your eyes, your stare

The slight tilt of head and squint;

but the intent is what drags me in

The undeniable force of penetration

of moment that seems too intrusive,

too good, to be given the thought of

forgiveness

An interest in a woman, with the

same pattern of every traditional

love story told to all of the listening

children:

The lore of a hope and a faith that

tempts the daring hearts, what

We’ve grown up to believe.

Now it’s our turn

I am grateful for random encounters.

To die for our freedoms

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To die for our freedoms
What a damn conundrum!
Of willing participants offering their heads for stacks of receipts
Little pieces of paper more powerful than life could afford, displaying out
Barcodes ending in the bold: The End
Another number scanned through by jagged lasers flashing in a bloody red
Checking off the last box on the chore-list and hiring the gardeners to plant fate and grow fields of strawberries
The most profitable crop known to man
Each weak seed plucked from the soil and forgotten
Never learning how to grow old and juicy:
A fulfilling plumpness of tasty satisfaction, wanting touch, to be eaten willingly, those
Finding religion in the sensual pressing on lips and being awarded the flavor caressed in mouth
A strawberry for a life who doesn’t want to die but to live until living has been enough
One by one, or however connected throughout those should be
The little receipts become pages in novels, thin sheets of memories kept in history to beg for understanding
Describing the time and the place of each printing of ink
When monsters become heroes because it’s easier to believe
But the harder reality only validates that violence creates the evils of mind and the many faces of man; sets the theme for the future plans ahead
So why must one fight for freedoms of life; gifts of ordinary ideals worthy of battles that vary from the most opportune prize?
To be free is to live but to die to be free without living at all doesn’t seem like the rational response to anything threatening
Or awarding devils mercy as they hold out skeletal hands in wanting:
Either complete surrender or the key to the soul.

I am grateful for a day of exploring with good friends.

Nights and Days

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Skin inflamed in sunshine, radiating in a pinkish hue of fleshy human porcelain reflecting in the summer’s glow
An intensity of warmth penetrating beneath the layers, traveling into the very core of being
The sun of the sky can shine so bright
As a lover of light to humble the moon
The trading of their roles of ownership and authority; balancing out the shadows of the world
Giving motion to the flow of life and the days and nights one is awake to see;
How one perceives the random life lessons, how we are all forever learning
Continuing this idea of education and exploring the different methods available to express,
Whether hidden behind a writer’s language and his or her own estimate of the ways of the world,
As if the sun shared his insight by burning, his fiery touch placed upon our heads
A kiss of passion based on the personal inflictions of an emotional soul
Infecting the minds and tightly embracing each tongue
As we wait for the chill of the night to cool a swollen mouth
For the Bella Luna to cover fire and temporarily snuff it out
Clearing the smoke and shaping air
A willful mother offering whispers on the wind of hope and encouragement
Speaking of a loyalty as consistent as the transition of the nights into the days.

I am grateful for laying out on a beautiful day!

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The Rejects

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The rejects of a militaristic society
Graduates of a unified humanity, ostracized for their unique scholarly ambitions
Motivational questions?
Of knowledge, regardless of time and of place
Condemning the thoughts of these thinkers and establishing such creativity as the cultural group of a cliche form of crazy; or, identifying masculine as losing his “identity” of self
Their image reflected only from their own facial reactions seen from a glance in the bathroom mirror, oh the horror!
But what is right, that which is based on the very concept of what defines the plural wrongs in life
These views of the everyday normal and how awful that can be
What of this movement?
To live within the means of abnormality and the standard of the current teachings of normalcy and how it is expected to be, to mean
To understand the hidden meanings of the gifts we’re given in a time where anything is possible, or impossible not to believe
Any group of believers can learn enough to buildup empires of memories
And share them in glances of experiences and guidance.

I am grateful for a few days away

Happy Friday the 32nd?

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Happy Friday the 32nd?

Band Website

Hey Everyone, welcome to Friday! I wanted to send out a quick message to promote a band I love named ‘The Chromaphones.’ They are based out of Madison, Wisconsin and give off a funk/jam band vibe. They are releasing their newly recorded album tomorrow (Recorded, mixed, and mastered by drummer Will Bailey) titled “Friday the 32nd.” I am super stoked about it!

The album is titled after the same song of its name as an instrumental, written by keyboardist Graham Marlowe. Lead vocals and guitar are shared by Tim Coughlin Jr and Cheyne Trost, who also switch out bass between songs. A couple of my favorites are “Don’t Wanna Know,” “Venus,” “Unrequited,” and “My Vitamins.”

I am so proud of these guys and I can’t wait to share their music with you.

The Chromaphones’ music video for “This City”:

Will Bailey Productions

Enjoy your weekends!

I am grateful for music ❤

Monthly Archives: August 2013

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Oh, How I Cry

Posted on August 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

Oh, how I long to cry

To shed these tears as memories, to ignore the pain seen;

Felt from afar

How many families suffer?

Innocents, children in pain?

Can we pretend that we’re still hungry

and feed each other

blissful responses so as to push one step

closer to the unfamiliarity;

Of how peaceful humanity can be?

Oh, how I long to cry

One tear lost for each fallen soul

Those silently attacked while sleeping in their homes

Laying in their beds, dreaming up the stories that the

Collective consciousness strives to see

Are we so cold?

Oh, how I long to cry

We are the same you and I

Hearts struggling to see the good;

To see the love that they try to hide

This isn’t a battle against one and two

Nor an epidemic of hatred

Are we so eager to be told what to think?

Are we really so blind?

Oh, how I long to cry

Even worlds apart the devastation is clear

A time is coming, there’s no room for fear or

fighting over distractions of mercy

Would you show mercy?

Is there anybody listening?

To those screaming out, wailing cries

To satisfy the wicked planning;

Oh, how I cry.

I am grateful for every second of life. ❤

 

Stomach Flu

Posted on August 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

Legs straddling the porcelain
One hand back, pulling up sweaty strands in a tight fist
The other, lost in the confusion of the movement
Body shaking, collapsing, suffocating
A putrid stench opens eyes to another wave of volatile cleansing
The bathroom floor has never felt so private
Deliriously making way back to bed
To dream of the reality of the moment
Until feet understand the urgency of the next second before
Eyes open
Another dance into submission

I am grateful for Jess. ❤

 

Foreshadows

Posted on August 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

Take a stab in the dark

To see which holes bleed

To see how long before I start silently screaming

wheezing out all of the damages done

Those perceivable wounds that ooze a contemptuous red hue of thick liquid

that slowly caresses skin

before falling down

Escaping body, rejected from the living

Breathing, suffocating from the metallic smell

hauntingly drifting into each nostril

to inhale one’s self

Foreshadowing what’s to come?

I am grateful for change. ❤

 

I’ve Always Been a Spider

Posted on August 22, 2013 by MuseWriter

Weaving the web in my head

Tying and twisting all of the knots, the

suspicions forming their shapes

and the confusions of everyone

as they stare into the transparent work of art

glistening in the sun

I guess I’ve always been a spider

Announcing to the world that even the definable delicate are strong.

I am grateful for sunny afternoon walks. ❤

Doubt

Posted on August 21, 2013 by MuseWriter

The first stage of doubt:
Being forced to recognize the limitations
Of time and distance
A one hour flight to travel into the depths of mind;
Second guessing position of desire
And what you want
The incessant rain keeps my feet wet, creating
Dirty tracks that lay out the roadmap of the steps carefully placed and manipulated
Just like want and desire?
Knowing the pain to grow stronger with each layer of question, confusion
I sometimes wonder if there’s any strength available for purchase
The expanse between your world and mine is great
I don’t know if I’m capable of ignoring the empty space surrounding
Even though I crave it, I can’t stand being alone
Or, the forgotten thoughts of those who claim ownership

I am grateful for every thought. ❤

 

Paths

Posted on August 20, 2013 by MuseWriter

How many paths must we cross,

Must we stumble through;

Guessing which part of the fork is best positioned for the tastiest bite?

To chew on the destination of thoughts that enable blood to pump and flow

Parallel to the bordered trail like a stream;

A continuous reminder of water and the other elements one person needs to survive

Removing the requirements of life and focusing on all that is surrendered

To a compartmentalized pandora’s box

Categorizing important cargo in a wooden reminder of vulnerability

Dried salmon candle wax puddled on the cracked surface

Staining the purity of all that embraces my mind

I am grateful for friendly neighbors. ❤

 

Cupid’s Enlightenment

Posted on August 18, 2013 by MuseWriter

Skinny fingers grasp the threaded line

Pulling back the thin fragments with a practiced hand

Eyes focused, not on object of manipulation but within the two figures out of reach;

The one and the two of the mission

The Amor, as he’s called, marks each piece of the puzzle with his target;

The cross point to aim so as not to confuse the scattered faces and bodies

Humming a familiar lullaby tune

Another mindless act to balance the shot

Calculating wind and distance, counting down breaths until the perfect moment

Two arrows let loose from his single bow

A skillful act of original tradesmanship of the god of love, son of Venus

Forgetting his resentment to his indifference, he contemplates what will happen to his latest victims

Unusually curious enough to sit upon his gargoyle perch to see the story unfold

Imagining his sport as a work of art and reflecting on the murals dedicated to his masterpieces of past

As an excited child he waits, watches as one lover finds another

Two hearts beating to the similar thoughts projected from their maker’s intense stare

Mystified, he trembles, he questions mortality and the gift of happiness

Longing to understand the passion of pain brought about by the penetration of his pointy arrowhead;

Staking claim as the narrator of their story

The reality of his genius keeps his heart beating

Even without the possibility of ever surrendering to his own magic.

I am grateful for Cupid’s art. ❤

Most People

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Most People

Most people only ever come into our lives just to be temporary distractions. These walking, breathing, and talking amusements stimulate action to help escape the shackles of the monotony of everyday survival. The Universe perceives these occurrences as the heightened view into the inner workings of an individual human being. Two people can come together as separate entities to try and satisfy some sort of need, whether that means physical or emotional and/or both. The best result of these acquaintances only amount to brief, inconsequential encounters with their mind-numbingly, two-dimensional connections. The moments these relations afford are based more off of the selfish emotional responses to one’s own goal of betterment, instead of relating and tuning into the actual character of a being other than self. The soul, when bound into itself, enables the body and mind to regulate the creation of happiness, or at least to settle for the satisfying accomplishment of instant gratification in finding various methods to not feeling/being alone. Euphoria is met, boredom ensues, and the people disperse to find their next source of entertainment meant to be forgotten.

Most people live in debt to this life, never seeking out nor accepting in the sensations of knowing something other than self. As the Human ages, daily demands slowly attempt to terminate the innate innocence and curiosity that we inherently practiced as children. We begin to avoid the situations and the people that threaten to upset the defining factors of what we choose to believe in as “me;” separating oneself out of the collective human race and claiming stature as “other.”  But as other, we project an estrangement of disconnectedness, a thick and impenetrable essence that effectively blocks out any passing beam of light willing to shine. Refusing sensations of meeting skin to skin to the point of ignoring the opportunity for a friendly handshake or hug. Refusing any chance of mental stimulation for fear of vulnerability of giving away more of self than wanted.

Most People become static, lost in their hollows; the hollows being defined as the shadow World. This suffocating place where indifference and apathy are born. The bodies and minds found there are lost, having chosen a reality without the attachment of soul, to soul. The shadows are comforting to those who cannot handle the light or the dark. The “others” hide in the shadows, allowing the numbing embrace to cocoon them within their wished-for complacency; never inspired, never inspiring.

But what of us who don’t fit into these black, white, and gray planes of existence? What of us who can relate to all of the moments of awareness; never asking for the experiences but seemingly overwhelmed with them throughout the entirety of life. Tired empathetic souls who were fortunate enough to be selected out of the billions at random(?), whether grateful for the gift or not. What is our fate, when the majority of ‘Self’ is nowhere around to mix within the questioning contemplations floating out of our heads and into the collectiveness of our World?

We are connected, you and I. We share a bond that neither one of us has claimed, or claims to understand. Both of our souls are struggling, battling against the ailments of the Human inadequacies of mind and body. All of the while attempting to recall our past lives and their accomplishments and failures. Giving into the passions of feeling to please our insatiable souls. We do not label ourselves with the mundane and we do not settle for complacency. Our destiny was planned so that we would have the option of choosing our pathway to death, instead of living a life already dead.

We exist in this moment because we believe that we do and I believe in you. I love you. I love you in more than just the verbal classification of the word. I love you in a state of complete openness and vulnerability. I love you more than what is said between one person to another. I love your soul. I love your passion. I love you. I send this love out because it’s not said enough. We should be grateful for the intensity of love, not afraid, not jealous, not embarrassed, not hated.

What we have together, what we have experienced together, is more than average; we are above being typical. And with that knowledge of self-actualization (“self” describing the bondage of our souls into one), we can become lost within the ideals of moral absolution and the stigmas of society. After all, we have been chosen to feel for the World so feel it ALL we must. The highs become shared expressions of elation, and the lows that we connect on, push us apart.

I don’t want to push you away and I don’t want you to push me away. Our infantile shortcomings are at no fault to any of us, we’ve been awarded these roles for a reason. You are not just another temporary distraction in life, you have shared your soul and I have shared mine. That alone is more than Most People can say. But in doing so, we will always and forever be connected; this lifetime and the next. Perhaps we’ve been connected since the beginning of time.

You are my everyday companion, a shining light to keep me from giving into my curiosity about the shadows and any morbid thought that seeks to destruct. We are higher beings who consider the philosophy of life to be easier than surviving here outside of the mind. We are not enemies nor do I claim any. You are my family and I will always love you, and in that, always accept love from you.

I am grateful for changes of reflection ❤