Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The lost ones tend to findings in what they are, like shattered glass on floor, attempting to glue back the pieces to feel integrated again. If you instead sweep the glass from the floor and put it all in a trash-bin you are approaching the problem from the other way around, by pulling the roots from the very bottom you eliminate the never ending search for meaning. Maybe something more interesting will happen. Maybe nothing will happen.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
you are here, but you have left, yet you are here, yet you are gone, yet i can see you, yet you have dimnished before my eyes, yet i can hear you, yet your voice seem now distant and afar, yet i can smell you, yet it is just my memory of yours smell.
the wind is bonkers today
wind emergency 411
they are probably busied with their donuts, rather than knee-deep in telephone inquiries
it's windy inside my body, like a whirlpool whipping up to something more ferocious
my last two years has been a poster of edward munch's 'scream'
the indian said
the wind serpent is not a child's play, yet the child becomes apparent in you
i forgot i was breathing
now i became consciously aware that i am not dead
did you travel afar
farther than a normally functioning mind ever could, i imagine
i have travelled far metaphysically, but never moved an inch
this world is a mystery for sure.. i am a little baby
i'm glad you're not into adultery
i don't know
i once saw the eyes of an 80 year old. he had the look of a child
i know nothing, that's what i know
the eyes are windows for sure and you do know
nothing is what i know