Saturday, July 15, 2017

Hiatus

It's been a while. And I welcome the sorrow. The sorrow is what defines me, what makes me human. And I yearn for that sleep. I had a taste of what it's like. It's scary, but at the same time, appealing. It's what I need. There is too much suffering in life. And I simply can't take it anymore. Stupidity is my namesake.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Pain

The Pain connects us all, calls to me like none other. The Pain that reminds me of being human, for without it, there is no anchor to reality. It is what is common to us all.

We cannot do without pain. It is only with pain, that the struggle of our life bears meaning. It is only with pain, that experiences become richer, that characters become stronger and show the differences between Good and Evil. And Pain, is neither of the both. It simply is.

And when the blood is released, much like the cutting of my hair, it is a release of the Self. Today is Sunday, and I feel the Pain.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Defeat

My life has slowed to a standstill, defeated by the obstacles of life. Where I have encouraged others to swerve away from this path of no return, I have myself walked down this road to nowhere. I am doomed for eternity to walk this wretched roads, as befits this life of mine. This is the nadir, the bottomless pit of which I am the slave of. This is nihilism.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Fateworks on the Eve

The whole blog reeks of negativity, of nihilism, as I rail against the unfairness, the shortfalls that punctuate my life, and yet, it is far from the dismal end. It is merely a phase, and all my pieces masturbatory pieces of art. The stench of my effusions mask both the truths and the lies, and I began to find a signpost in the desert of life.

I should be working for a cause now. I have been wandering too long, drawn away by the mirages of salesmen and preachers of lust.

It is all in the works of fate.

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Slaughter

Sent to the slaughter
The mirthless laughter
Fills the abattoir
It’s so cold, Father.

The gasps for breaths
The claws of despair
The bottomless pit fills
It’s so cold, Father.

The pain never dies
The tears never dry
The echoes sound off walls
It’s so cold, Father.

I have gotten used
To the cold and pain
The laughter and the rain
Don’t think you are real
After all, Father.

The sequel of Forrest Gump

Stupid is as I do. Fight stupid. When your mind, your worth is at stake. You fight stupid. You fight the myriad labels and condescending stares and incredulity at the apparent stupidity. You fight stupid.

Let the mind expand and encompass all, let the knowledge swamp the mind and reshape it, it shall be a weapon. A weapon that pierces all, that penetrates the dullness and fog of foolishness and naivete. Let the desert be your homeground and the ice be your support. Philanthropy and benevolence have no place in the pits of survival and condescension.

Let my words be my ammunition. Let the language sound in all its glory. Let me fight stupidity.

The Boat

The desert in watery terms, the boat is where I fight for my dignity, where I fight for my worth. The pain is muffled, the ruckus and cacophony of the heart is drowned, the feelings deadened. All one does is row.

This is the Boat. One rows or dies. This is the Arena on water. And I exalt in the pain and bitterness.