Tag Archives: Thought

Shadows in the myst

Lightening Streaks across the horizon peeling back the colors of darkness.

Reflections reveal the surface of the lake is real, and it holds colors hostage in its dark depths while secretly making love to shadows.

It’s the thunder that awakens or distracts our senses to our fears, light or sound; the storm is just a word.

The crack of air tears a second of reality open for all to hear, but no one listens, they remember or fear shadows in the wind.

We live in a world of surfaces. Colors and textures dominating our landscape with stolid waves of dirt undulating still, as our feet move through the valleys and peaks carrying thoughts like embers in a pouch.

Lightening reveals a glimpse of chalk painted figures dancing with smoke around orange shards of warmth. The storm is their power.

To them there are no forces of nature, only the power of nature to be harnessed and rode through the shadows of life. No width, depth, or breadth to be concerned with, not even time can catch the mind on fire.

The earth moves in mysterious places open for all to see. This is how the still mind travels and the racing mind runs in circles searching for its peace. The shadows between the two dance with lighting to the sound of thunder surrounded by surfaces like a prism and in between each color the shadow sits silently wondering how they can’t see they’re one.

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Thoughts on truth and knowledge

Every stroke of the pen brings me closer to the realization that thought is the pathway to all peace. The rigors of survival require ingenuity and fortitude. The constant nature of thought within empty spaces of freedom, untethered to the directed realization that thrive on mutual ignorance, protect us from disaster.

It’s alone where ideas are bold and independent. Consensus is for the weak. To dilute your thought with the intention of others is to rob the world of truth. This is not to say we should reject or dismiss the value of opinion; we shouldn’t concern ourselves with the response to our thought. Great thoughts are validated by time.

Boldness is not a character reserved for the warrior. The thinking man must attack his ideas with the same doggedness as an individual in a life and death battle. These warriors, of words or war, don’t protect their victories or care how they survived, they move on to the next battle with their lessons in hand.

We, citizens of the world, are in a battle with no armor or weapons. There’s a war being waged against our philosophical sense like none in history. An organized offensive that challenges our base of knowledge using opinion and persuasion to attack and infiltrate our sense of what it means to be human, spiritual, and patriotic. They wish to define your thought, direct your thought for their own financial and philosophical profit.

This is the critical hour for critical thinking. We need an Army of thinkers to launch a barrage of thought onto a field of dreamers. Wake up the sense of the common man against the well funded army of idiots using entertainment as a research laboratory for imaginary subjects creating imaginary truths.

Truth stems from reality, not vice versa. Only those brazen enough to blind the masses believe otherwise. Reality doesn’t change and truth relies on this priori path of circular enlightenment. Questioning truth is fundamental. Validating those questions leads to knowledge. However, the question is where the work begins, and just because you have an answer doesn’t mean you have a truth.

The warriors who hold truth must continue to rule while the dreamers challenge reality. It can’t be the opposite or compromise. It must be the rigors of true knowledge that lead us. This does not mean we stifle thought like an oppressive beast of ignorance. Free thought has value, like speculation, or fantasy.

I’m looking for those stalwart minds that stand firm on the grounds of truths. Those minds that evaluate consensus and speak up for realities within the truths of our times. Too many minds have been computerized into submission. Merely aping responses without thought are the fortitude to test what they’ve regurgitated.

We are a world within ourselves capable of creating within the constructs of our environment. We are capable of hypothesizing possibilities within and outside of these constructs. We are capable of destruction as well as construction if we lack the adherence to basic principles as protections from dreamers and mad men.

There are a myriad of examples of great thinkers whom we learned much from. However, if we would have followed them into the path of illusion we surely would live in a crueler world, Nietzsche comes to mind.

There are great ways to think and great thoughts. There are simple ways of thinking and simple thoughts. We can learn from each of these if knowledge and truth are our honest pursuits. You are what you think so protect your senses with a heart towards humanity.

Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.

Drifter

I sat before eternity silent
No answers did I seek
Listening for the future
To gently kiss my cheek

Being everywhere but nowhere
A space outside of time
Lacked color or purpose
Living in the sublime.

So I stood up and brushed my pants
And walked towards the crossroad
Where I felt a better chance.

And in the distant dust loud
Just behind the ochre road
Death rumbled in the clouds

Not one to take the middle road
I walked with open eyes
An ever slowing pace
Towards ever changing skies

I walked through the mirage,
And into the heat of day
Gathering the colors of life
For when the skies turn gray

The end of the earth is a lie
For fools who dream
Or ask themselves why

There are no rhymes for reason
To hold the truth alight
Just changes of the seasons
Stretching day to night

Ism’s and Ist’s

The ism and their ist’s imagining life is lived through manicured paths of thought. Not a step taken out of turn as passerby’s quickly move from place to time. Fluid thought reacts to forks and bends with the decisiveness of experience.

Capturing the echo of thought is like grasping smoke. Empty handed we read the signals of what was thought and only written. Folks dreaming of magic words and incantations of harmony dissipate in the silence that screams common sense.

Love is as violent as hate is silent. People get in the way of love for these brains in a jar, always somewhat short of the imagined, but here lies the beauty, a brain without eyes or flesh can’t know it’s an ugly process.

Hate hides behind anger like a barking dog chained and muzzled. Without teeth the power of fear becomes a memory or dread. These hands of wisdom never get bitten by truth they walk, they muse safely at the other end of the leash.

In a plastic world the idea of emotion molds imitations of life. Art can reflect life, but like a mirror, can only mimic reality. To truly live we must shed our reflection and wrap it up tightly in our image for disposal.

And are we not thinkers? One mind vibrating across the universe so obvious to the stars. This concentric egocentric warped existence that leaves most dizzy. The power to stop the world from spinning out of control is simply closing your eyes. Like the pre operational child who covers her eyes, no one can see you and the world is yours to create, if only for a phase.

So it’s in my space, within my circle that my world revolves. I’ll love and hate equally, adore and detest with out regard, and never will I compromise my beliefs for another man’s promise of enlightenment. I am human without a suffix to corral my freedom at distances so far I think I’m roaming the range. Words and letters are silent tools at times for those gathering.

I refuse to be cultivated, corralled, or muzzled. My thoughts are the last bastion of defense. Vigilance within doesn’t rely on physical prowess, but silently creates and destroys the barrage of intent. So here I stand, on thoughts that are free, with my feet firmly planted in the soil of dissonance open to the melodies of life.

Spiritual legacy

Twisted realities spin around my mind leaving my soul to wander in search of sanity. I know we’re not alone in our grief and confusion, but it seems spirits don’t communicate with words.

Words don’t unite or divide us like friendships aren’t about hugs and handshakes. It’s sentiment that knows no boundaries between space and time. What we share our spirits have carried across time, through space, without a sound.

It’s the whisper we can’t hear that gets our attention. Knowing has no real value. Feeling is the essence of humanity. Our minds have become lazy over time and just want to dichotomize the world into verbal confusion.

Troubled souls travel inside broken vessels looking for kindred spirits. Our souls reside within our hearts while our spirits wander for peace. All the while we open our minds to distorted spaces furnished with illusion.

One day my spirit will make it back to my soul and nestle safely in my brain where we will Rest In Peace. Until then ill Rest In Distortion holding onto truth like a buoy in the expanses of an ocean.