Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds, with a simple and dark color, bitter to the mouth, but just enough sweet to keep having. Until an unhampering and unwinding death, oh how sickly that taste is?

Of how easy it can come, yet if opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door. For there could a chance to miss on the evil and live, blissfully what could never happen before all this.

Through the rains, hails, sunshine, whatever it is, it’s better in the wind, letting it carry from distance to another. Sharing what needs to be shared, with no judgment.

To that as seeing a gentleman is simply a patient wolf, waiting for the frail and white meal. Sinking the filed fangs, deeply-in, and having little choice to turning back on it.

Luck is when opportunity knocks and you answer, with a smile, not even knowing if that moment of happiness could end with a knife placed far in the depths of flesh. Having . . . forever freezing the smile and cold eyes to forever remember of that day, leaving little of all good behind. Leaving you, little mortal, alone, in the dark, just as the minutes before you were born.

Carrying what could be left as silent and listen are spelled with the same letters, yet we all choose not to do both. For we rather be loud and self. How else is there living, if you don’t mix the four things of what makes one . . . normal?

But I guess that I am learning all the time.  The tombstone will be my diploma. For, something that is written in stone is far stronger than written on a thin paper that will slowly crumble away.

In a time of rules, of any kind, small or big, a rule that cannot be bent will certainly be broken. Shattering like glass, easily to cut anything that dare crosses it. Spilling the oozes of blood and thoughts, for the world to see, knowing that no one would know what to do with it.

Primitive does not mean stupid, it means that simple things are much more to matter, than that something that is high as a skyscraper. So big, that no one would fully understand, as why this is here. Yes, there are answers for it, but not one true answer. As where with something primitive, maybe that as a smile, words of thanks, mean and hold so much more.

Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo, in the land of limbo, knowing it must choose . . . to live forever in endless delight or endless agony? As in sometime, it will become something of a problem, but is a bigger task to see it as one.

Having nothing left for soon having, with no care to see hatred bounces back from the maker to the taker. To have the eyes a line, minds sets and futures bleak.

Where not goes for motivation is what gets you started.  Habit is what keeps you going. You alone have to keep it going. Or stop, stand, and be still. As others go on ahead of you, taking the path you said you wanted nothing to do with.

Do not repeat anything you will not sign your name to, for it will follow you. Break you,
and remind you that you’re nothing but a dog look for meal.

For you petty humans want to become greater, than anyone else. Not caring who becomes hurt, left behind, and forever scared by you, when really genius isn’t anything more than elegant common sense. My brain quiet working on me long ago, and even I know that.

The patriot’s blood is the seed of Freedom’s tree, and that tree will keep growing for those who know what that meaning of life really is. No higher good is needed to be done, you mindless simian.

You know your goal, it is right there. You just have to reach out and take it; follow it just the flower that follows the sun does so even in cloudy days, because even passed the clouds, the sun remains there waiting. But even for a short time, for the sake of helping.

Even for the elements that means little, but hold so much, yet become so hard to master. Such as the most tangible of all visible mysteries; fire becomes the hardest to know and follow. Just the soft glow of the sun that tags you along, leading you.

Faith is what makes life bearable, with all its tragedies and ambiguities and sudden, startling joys. You know you’ll end up smiling in the end, with little knowing of to keep it from spreading to others. For, maybe you don’t want to?

We have more ability than will power, and it is often an excuse to ourselves that we imagine that things are impossible. For maybe, we choose not to do anything but use the seven sins to get by. And: not the will of faith.

Even if you become hurt, and not know how that came to be, reality is a crutch for people who can’t cope with drugs, is a way of able to cope that everything before one’s mind is real. Not fake and misleading.

I must acknowledge, once and for all, that the purpose of diplomacy is to prolong a crisis, and everyone else before not just me, but others as well . . . have just fallen if nothing changes.

Good decisions come from experience, and experience comes from bad decisions. If that is not enough of a wakeup call, to you humans; I have lost everything for this thus far.
I have no special talents.  I am only passionately curious. It’s how I made it through life, what about you? What have you done, to make a change to anything of that . . . world, you call home!

When I am in the country I wish to vegetate like the country, not the basics that fit well just for you, but can reflect to others, just as well, and do it just as well. What do I have to do, to spell it out to you, what? Tell me!

About Author

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.