Tag Archives: Thought

Surrounded

The echos of my world reverberate within my soul. That space the doesn’t feel, but absorbs that which cannot be processed but with time. This space leaves my silence thundering across the horizon.

This is the beat my spirit dances and sleeps. I carry this weightless feeling with a heavy heart. The motion of my soul writhes in anguish, but all you see is a dancing fool.

There is a world within me that never stops beating. Fighting for every thought against a world of oppression. I’ll never be free until I grasp the wind that moves my spirit; but who can hold a soul. Its like grasping smoke after the fire has smoldered and darkness set in. It’s just faith.

I’ve slowed down to the point my mind races. Noticing the spirits that inhabit my world is dangerous. Part of us becomes them. You can’t defend your soul, it just absorbs, then the spirit moves till your mind awakens, but then it is to late. The damage or blessing is done. Then it’s time to heal or celebrate, but if even for a minute, all you did was drift.

This world is so much more than what we see. I sympathize with those that question truth. It’s hard to create a harmony between what we’re feeling, our action, and our thoughts. It’s much more complex than awareness, it’s freedom.

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Out of Rhythym

All my memories in a box filled with tears and laughter
It’s magical and mournful
As I stand here empty and fearful of what comes after

It’s all gone, but I’m stuck here
In between yesterday and tomorrow
feeling sadness and fear

I can’t be here now with my body and soul
No matter how I try I’m trapped
A fragmented existence neither present or whole

Some say slow motion, or maybe surreal
This space isn’t now
And doesn’t seem real.

I speak in sentences I watch float away
With memories of tomorrow
fearing yesterday

I hear those voices
whispering in my mind
Sometimes they’re yours
And others are mine

So together we’re lost in time
No rhythm is safer
Than living a rhyme

In My Own Way

Neon thoughts blinking and begging for my mind to settle. Racing thoughts speed past my brain leaving my mind to a primitive state of survival.
I close my eyes and the scenery doesn’t change, it enhances the confusion making me dizzy with nauseated fear the day won’t end if night is all i see.
My ears are deaf to my surroundings and scenes of an electric existence replace the sound of the tv that sits alone repeating episodes of drama.
I hold my keys in my hand forgetfully trying to escape wondering if the hum of the car and the sound of rubber on asphalt will at least transport me to the nowhere that’s quite and relaxing.

I can smell fresh cut hay and exhaust with my memories. I can taste the straw dangling between my tobacco tax stained teeth. My muscles tighten at the memories of the work I hated that I wish I could still do. At this moment I want a field of hay, or a 60 pound ruck to sweat the world away with the calm feel of exhaustion.
I’m never in the proper tense. Then I was here, now I’m there. I travel off kilter never in the moment. The hope and dread weigh heavy on my footsteps. It’s hard to move forward while I’m trying and difficult to sit still without thinking of every move that would get me to now.
I don’t know if I should slow down or speed up. I can’t seem to have my ambitions align with my motivations. I’m intelligent, but being smart eludes me. I’m compassionate, but angry. I’m engaged, but distracted. The pace of my life is impossibly random.
So here I sit writing to you hoping I’m not the only tortured soul who’s spirit has a mind of its own. I’m thinking about the work I have to do and the words screaming to get out of my head. Then I remember my mind controls my brain that is full of experiences and dreams. My life is full of hopes and dreams. So all I have to do is move out of my own way.

Modern Madness

Truth is real as reality is true
For those who enquire
Bidding ignorance adieu

To move along in the realm of subjection
Denying what is objective
Is a grammatical prison

So move past the post modern
Into a new reality that’s old
As the books you burn
Where truth is real and told

This ain’t no microdot mishap
With melting doors and walls
Oozing memories like sap.

It’s that one exception that gives you away
The one I have to ignore
To believe what you say

That’s the point of no return
For sanity and coherence
The truth of you
And a trail of ignorance

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.

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.