The siren screams by,
As another innocent begins to die,
His heart still beating,
His life force fleeting,
As I walk through the valley,
Of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil,
For it all seems evil, every breath,
We dream of an end,
Of a force which might save us,
Books are written, films directed,
But the devil inside, sits, ready to enslave us,
Our lives have been made captive,
To immature dreams of greatness,
We scream for a utopian world,
Yet we can’t fathom being selfless,
“If I had the power,
I would kill all that is bad”,
But have you ever stopped to think,
That perhaps it is you is truly bad,
We have so much,
And yet it seems so little,
The warm milk and dirty knives,
And purple clad men playing the fiddle
A smile hides the pain behind,
Oh what we would give just to rewind,
And if we rewound,
Starting anew,
Would it really be different?
Would we then have a better clue?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
An Age Old Question
We will always return to the age old question, what is right and what is wrong?
Perhaps, the world is truly black and white, and as an excuse to do the things we want, we lie to ourselves and others and say that there is a large area of gray. This gray area seems to be the fog in which we hide all our misdemeanors and negative aspects, the fog which turns our actions from something wrong, to something tolerable. The phrase goes that there are always two sides to the coin, or its black or white, and we don’t like it to be as simple as that, hence the creation of the gray area.
We pour over our heritage, in deep analytical study, and search for fact. We take the fact and apply it to where its components fit. The two sides of the coin theory can now be defenestrated, because it’s not a coin where the black and white are its only two sides. If so, we get lured into the gray fog, which we created in the absence of a direction other than the two given sides of said coin. No one ever likes either side of the coin, hence the gray area. Look at it, rather as a disco ball; where there are multiple sides all black and white and that it is our job to discern this black and this white. The main thing to keep in mind though is that there is a side for each occasion and that it is all black and all white, and the gray area is the place of fiction we use to excuse ourselves. The disco ball is quite large, for you can have a situation, the same for two people, but must be dealt with differently. But in the end, for each specific person, during each specific situation there is a right and a wrong, a black and a white.
We don’t like this. Hey, I don’t like it. But it is reality, our freedom of choice in every situation. It’s our job to stop lying to ourselves and really get down to the nitty gritty of whom we are inside. For one person, a particular course of action might seem wrong, to us, but is the right thing to do, for him. For another, what may seem to be the right course of action, to us, would in truth be detrimental for him. Only we really know what is going down in our hearts we must search for ourselves, the right path to take.
Perhaps, the world is truly black and white, and as an excuse to do the things we want, we lie to ourselves and others and say that there is a large area of gray. This gray area seems to be the fog in which we hide all our misdemeanors and negative aspects, the fog which turns our actions from something wrong, to something tolerable. The phrase goes that there are always two sides to the coin, or its black or white, and we don’t like it to be as simple as that, hence the creation of the gray area.
We pour over our heritage, in deep analytical study, and search for fact. We take the fact and apply it to where its components fit. The two sides of the coin theory can now be defenestrated, because it’s not a coin where the black and white are its only two sides. If so, we get lured into the gray fog, which we created in the absence of a direction other than the two given sides of said coin. No one ever likes either side of the coin, hence the gray area. Look at it, rather as a disco ball; where there are multiple sides all black and white and that it is our job to discern this black and this white. The main thing to keep in mind though is that there is a side for each occasion and that it is all black and all white, and the gray area is the place of fiction we use to excuse ourselves. The disco ball is quite large, for you can have a situation, the same for two people, but must be dealt with differently. But in the end, for each specific person, during each specific situation there is a right and a wrong, a black and a white.
We don’t like this. Hey, I don’t like it. But it is reality, our freedom of choice in every situation. It’s our job to stop lying to ourselves and really get down to the nitty gritty of whom we are inside. For one person, a particular course of action might seem wrong, to us, but is the right thing to do, for him. For another, what may seem to be the right course of action, to us, would in truth be detrimental for him. Only we really know what is going down in our hearts we must search for ourselves, the right path to take.
Direction of Battle
We are only human. We live and we die. But we walk proud on this earth. We stand tall and magnificent. We are true power, we are true greatness. And we stand in our big cities proud over what we’ve done, proud over the beauty we’ve created, seemingly from our own great reserves of pure raw human power. And as we revel in this magnificence, as we stand and marvel on the vastness of our universe and our complete and utter dominance, and continuance of our great feats, we walk blind. One just has to peel back the outermost layer of reality and the truth stares us back in the face, like a nasty scratch on the back of a brand new CD. So, here I stand pointing an accusing finger at the stubbornness of the human race, and at the insensitivity of the human race. And this anger burns deep inside me. I have no specific direction for my anger; it is an anger which is directed at every facet of the problems in our world. Some share this anger, but direct it towards only one objective, for example war, hunger, governments, crime, violence or a slew of other problems we've gotten ourselves into. But this is not the right direction to follow. I look towards all these as one problem bound together.
Let us imagine that war has been abolished, and we all live in a beautiful utopia, a world where peace reigns supreme. What a great world that would be, but what then, when we have rid the world of this atrocity called war what then? We are still human we still make our own laws and we will still break those laws. We will have lost one part of our being, though be it a bad piece of our being, it will still have to be replaced, and with what shall we replace it? I don’t think that it is possible to just abolish war. To abolish war alone would not be enough. We would have to abolish everything else too; we would have to abolish all that is evil in the hearts of men.
And so, in this direction does my anger burn, in the direction of all these things, not just limited to one direction. It even burns in the direction of those who wish to do good, but do so in such a frustratingly stupid and asinine way that more damage is done than what is being fixed.
Rules made by man, rules and ideas which we have carved into the very essence of the fabric of our existence, written or unwritten, rules which we break on a whim just to fit with the times. This is for what I burn. In the times of the Roman Empire, it wasn’t looked as morally wrong to have two men thrown into an arena and fight to the death as thousands sat and watched.
In the days of old, there were forms of worship which demanded the sacrifice of one’s firstborn son and was not looked at as an atrocity as appalling as we do now as we sit in our homes with our families. And what of today, when we ruthlessly plow through our world so we can stay on the level, using the excuse “it’s a dog eat dog world out there” as if this gives us permission to do what we do. And when across the world little children die of hunger while we complain that the gas prices keep going up, what can we say to that? And what can the oil companies say to the rape they commit, when it becomes impossible for a father to drive to work, so that he can support his family. And what about the governments seemingly pig like greed to be the policeman of the world. And then what about those of us who condemn the government when the government intervenes and does protect us from harm.
If we could all just stop and take a breather from this mad rush to win the race, we would see something good, something perfect, and something which its beauty stands so far above what we have ever known. There is beauty here, and we just walk on by, ignoring it. We take what small bits of beauty we were given, by musicians, authors, or any of the few good people we’ve ever had, and we stop, maybe, and look in wonder for a few moments, but then right back to the race. We pass by the beauty which is contained in the human soul, and instilled in the world around us. The ability to love, to give, to create good, lies within us, seemingly dormant. The darkest and most depressing song holds in it a beauty so fine and pure, but it’s up to us to unlock it. Some have, some have tried to make a difference and what have we done with it, how many untold millions have been killed in the name of a religion which its main theme is to love thy neighbor. We took our emotions, the very things which make us human, and cheapened it. We look love and sold it for a hundred bucks on forty second street. We took anger and sold tickets to watch it in action. We faked happiness and aired it for the entire world to see. We give only because we expect in return. We have killed ourselves inside; we are all just tombstones walking around pretending to live.
The problem is not what is actually going on out there, but what goes on inside of us. What if we fixed that first?
In 1100 AD, an unnamed Monk wrote, “When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.”
Let us imagine that war has been abolished, and we all live in a beautiful utopia, a world where peace reigns supreme. What a great world that would be, but what then, when we have rid the world of this atrocity called war what then? We are still human we still make our own laws and we will still break those laws. We will have lost one part of our being, though be it a bad piece of our being, it will still have to be replaced, and with what shall we replace it? I don’t think that it is possible to just abolish war. To abolish war alone would not be enough. We would have to abolish everything else too; we would have to abolish all that is evil in the hearts of men.
And so, in this direction does my anger burn, in the direction of all these things, not just limited to one direction. It even burns in the direction of those who wish to do good, but do so in such a frustratingly stupid and asinine way that more damage is done than what is being fixed.
Rules made by man, rules and ideas which we have carved into the very essence of the fabric of our existence, written or unwritten, rules which we break on a whim just to fit with the times. This is for what I burn. In the times of the Roman Empire, it wasn’t looked as morally wrong to have two men thrown into an arena and fight to the death as thousands sat and watched.
In the days of old, there were forms of worship which demanded the sacrifice of one’s firstborn son and was not looked at as an atrocity as appalling as we do now as we sit in our homes with our families. And what of today, when we ruthlessly plow through our world so we can stay on the level, using the excuse “it’s a dog eat dog world out there” as if this gives us permission to do what we do. And when across the world little children die of hunger while we complain that the gas prices keep going up, what can we say to that? And what can the oil companies say to the rape they commit, when it becomes impossible for a father to drive to work, so that he can support his family. And what about the governments seemingly pig like greed to be the policeman of the world. And then what about those of us who condemn the government when the government intervenes and does protect us from harm.
If we could all just stop and take a breather from this mad rush to win the race, we would see something good, something perfect, and something which its beauty stands so far above what we have ever known. There is beauty here, and we just walk on by, ignoring it. We take what small bits of beauty we were given, by musicians, authors, or any of the few good people we’ve ever had, and we stop, maybe, and look in wonder for a few moments, but then right back to the race. We pass by the beauty which is contained in the human soul, and instilled in the world around us. The ability to love, to give, to create good, lies within us, seemingly dormant. The darkest and most depressing song holds in it a beauty so fine and pure, but it’s up to us to unlock it. Some have, some have tried to make a difference and what have we done with it, how many untold millions have been killed in the name of a religion which its main theme is to love thy neighbor. We took our emotions, the very things which make us human, and cheapened it. We look love and sold it for a hundred bucks on forty second street. We took anger and sold tickets to watch it in action. We faked happiness and aired it for the entire world to see. We give only because we expect in return. We have killed ourselves inside; we are all just tombstones walking around pretending to live.
The problem is not what is actually going on out there, but what goes on inside of us. What if we fixed that first?
In 1100 AD, an unnamed Monk wrote, “When I was a young man, I wanted to change the world. I found it was difficult to change the world, so I tried to change my nation. When I found I couldn't change the nation, I began to focus on my town. I couldn't change the town and as an older man, I tried to change my family. Now, as an old man, I realize the only thing I can change is myself, and suddenly I realize that if long ago I had changed myself, I could have made an impact on my family. My family and I could have made an impact on our town. Their impact could have changed the nation and I could indeed have changed the world.”
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A Search
I love and I feel,
Stronger, as the days go by,
Is it true is it me?
I hurt and I cry,
I ask and I pry,
But there is no-one,
I walk my path alone,
With my will undone,
I joke and I laugh,
Otherwise, I’d cry and moan,
Do you see me?
Do you see that I’m alone?
Are you me?
And me you?
Or are the lines we tread, parallel,
And never meet? tell me it's not true.
Stronger, as the days go by,
Is it true is it me?
I hurt and I cry,
I ask and I pry,
But there is no-one,
I walk my path alone,
With my will undone,
I joke and I laugh,
Otherwise, I’d cry and moan,
Do you see me?
Do you see that I’m alone?
Are you me?
And me you?
Or are the lines we tread, parallel,
And never meet? tell me it's not true.
we are so much more
We want to have fun. We want to have it so much that it doesn’t matter any more what the fun is, we just want it. Imagine yourself at say, a kareoke bar. A mix of all kinds of people, sitting around and getting up in front of everyone else and singing a song. A very chilling atmosphere, where we are all having fun. And then an older gentleman gets up to sing a song. Someone perhaps in his mid forties, dressed normal, no strange appearance about him in any way. So what crosses our minds when we see this fine gentleman standing preparing for a rendition of, say, white rabbit, or maybe Leila, just to get the feel of the old times? Some punk might think “what’s an old fart doing up there”, or someone a little more open minded might think that this guy is trying to get a taste of how it used to be, even though he’s way past this type of thing, just let him have his fun and be on his way. Whatever one might think, it all boils down to one thing, he doesn’t belong. However you look at it, whether to mock him, or to sympathize with him, what crosses our minds? That he just doesn’t fit the scene.
This is not to mock this scene, these are my ideas which I’m addressing, the question being, why does this older gentleman, not fit in? What makes him different than us that we do fit in? What makes what we do okay and him wrong? What if we are also wrong and we shouldn’t fit in either? The reason why, I believe, this fine person is looked strangely upon, is because, he has moved on, he is established, he is bona-fide. It doesn’t become a man, who is leading the real life, the life of responsibility, the life of supporting a family. Perhaps in a way it would seem to be a sign of immaturity on his part to act in this fashion. And as for us, well, we’re still young, we’re trying to live life to the fullest, we have to chill and this is how we do it. The scene was created for us by us, it is our niche and we fit in. we have a “status quo” of chillage to complete, so let us get to it.
But, I have a question for us. What makes us different from this man, that we can allow ourselves to chill in this fashion? This also goes for all other things us youth do where an old guy would look weird doing. Why do we reserve the right to just hang loose, and he not? What if we created a farce for ourselves, one which makes us believe we can do what have you, whereas the old guy can’t?
We need to have fun, life is very hard and we need to calm down. And we do have a ton of pressure being forced on us. But I think that we got ourselves thinking in status quo mode, meaning that we think that we must have this pleasure in this way and in these amounts, because we need it. The real chillers in my book are the ones who flow with it. They only take when they really need it, and in amounts that really satisfy, not the overflowing amounts that we convince ourselves we need and in the end walk away drained from all the pain and effort needed to get the pleasure, and not really having got much out of the “chill” at all.
Look at the people around us at this bar. So much talent, so much sitting and waiting to be opened. At one table, strong minds, sitting, huddled and talking, but about some stupid TV show. And in another corner, the great speaker, who can use the English language to create art, maybe change people's lives with his power of words, but belittles his friend instead because it’s cool. Or on stage where her great voice sings a beautiful, heart wrenching song, for the guy who is talking with some other girl at the bar. This is not who we are, these people are not this, they are so much better than this. Look what our scene is causing us to do, to become. There could be nothing wrong with a karaoke bar; it’s just how we use them that might be the problem.
So what is the right thing to do, and what is pleasure that is really pleasurable?
What I wrote is something to think about, as is the question about right and pleasure. I still have to think about them. I was at a karaoke bar, and these are my thoughts about the experience I had there. Let us think. I think, therefore I am.
This is not to mock this scene, these are my ideas which I’m addressing, the question being, why does this older gentleman, not fit in? What makes him different than us that we do fit in? What makes what we do okay and him wrong? What if we are also wrong and we shouldn’t fit in either? The reason why, I believe, this fine person is looked strangely upon, is because, he has moved on, he is established, he is bona-fide. It doesn’t become a man, who is leading the real life, the life of responsibility, the life of supporting a family. Perhaps in a way it would seem to be a sign of immaturity on his part to act in this fashion. And as for us, well, we’re still young, we’re trying to live life to the fullest, we have to chill and this is how we do it. The scene was created for us by us, it is our niche and we fit in. we have a “status quo” of chillage to complete, so let us get to it.
But, I have a question for us. What makes us different from this man, that we can allow ourselves to chill in this fashion? This also goes for all other things us youth do where an old guy would look weird doing. Why do we reserve the right to just hang loose, and he not? What if we created a farce for ourselves, one which makes us believe we can do what have you, whereas the old guy can’t?
We need to have fun, life is very hard and we need to calm down. And we do have a ton of pressure being forced on us. But I think that we got ourselves thinking in status quo mode, meaning that we think that we must have this pleasure in this way and in these amounts, because we need it. The real chillers in my book are the ones who flow with it. They only take when they really need it, and in amounts that really satisfy, not the overflowing amounts that we convince ourselves we need and in the end walk away drained from all the pain and effort needed to get the pleasure, and not really having got much out of the “chill” at all.
Look at the people around us at this bar. So much talent, so much sitting and waiting to be opened. At one table, strong minds, sitting, huddled and talking, but about some stupid TV show. And in another corner, the great speaker, who can use the English language to create art, maybe change people's lives with his power of words, but belittles his friend instead because it’s cool. Or on stage where her great voice sings a beautiful, heart wrenching song, for the guy who is talking with some other girl at the bar. This is not who we are, these people are not this, they are so much better than this. Look what our scene is causing us to do, to become. There could be nothing wrong with a karaoke bar; it’s just how we use them that might be the problem.
So what is the right thing to do, and what is pleasure that is really pleasurable?
What I wrote is something to think about, as is the question about right and pleasure. I still have to think about them. I was at a karaoke bar, and these are my thoughts about the experience I had there. Let us think. I think, therefore I am.
learning
The boy sits,
Quietly in his chair,
Hoping the call doesn’t come,
Hoping he could drift away into the air,
But the call comes,
As the boy surely knew,
And he leaves to go,
To begin work anew,
Now the day is over,
And he returns to his chair,
But no more does he hope,
To drift lazily into the air,
He feels the pain in his muscles,
He wipes the sweat of his brow,
but he smiles, and he laughs,
For this man has finally learned how,
Quietly in his chair,
Hoping the call doesn’t come,
Hoping he could drift away into the air,
But the call comes,
As the boy surely knew,
And he leaves to go,
To begin work anew,
Now the day is over,
And he returns to his chair,
But no more does he hope,
To drift lazily into the air,
He feels the pain in his muscles,
He wipes the sweat of his brow,
but he smiles, and he laughs,
For this man has finally learned how,
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