Life is labour.
All is entropy.
From the moment
we're born,
we decay.
We must feed
to renew,
we must breathe
to energise.
We strive to prolong a life
we never asked for,
living inside a machine
needing constant maintenance
against built-in redundance.
What an existence!

i read an article
on self-realisation today
about how
we are an echo
of the universe
and how we can use
that awareness
to unlock our greatness

it stated that
an echo is merely
a vibration bouncing
from point
   to point
across an expanse
it explained that
all objects
throughout the universe
pulsate with energy
that all objects
are a manifestation
of energy;
therefore we are
nothing more than
clusters of energy
vibrating
           bouncing
     ricocheting
through space and time

over time
echoes weaken and fade
into nothingness
returning to
the universe's preferred
state of equilibrium
that cosmic balance
between order and chaos
which existed long before
our disturbance and
will surely return again

the article was meant to be
an aid for practicing inner peace
but it seems i may have
missed the point

Worthless, worthless, says the preacher
Self-important, self-taught teacher

Worthless, worthless, says the buyer
Yet your price was never higher

You get it cheap, and start to boast
And then leave nothing for the host

But emperors are like their clothes
Their what and whether no-one knows

You take their treasure in your hand
And feel your fist is full of sand

You search for some security
See things become, but never be

Why seek to run a perfect race,
If past the sun is only space?

Would you rather face the end?
Or live to chase the wind?

Am I to be a poet?
Who writes of all he sees?
Who spews his dreams across the page?
Reflecting harsh and cynical?
Deep within old age?

Shall I grow much in wisdom?
A Sage who’s never enraged?
Filled with patience, hope, and heart
Because he lives on stage?
And his mind on a page
His rage in a cage
The readers head
Filled instead
With the things he never said

What shall I be?
Should I dart to share my art?
In forms of clay and word
Which never will curd but always will curb
And roll and refine
As gems from the mine
That make the most beautiful ring

That’s what I shall be.
A gift,
Shining bright.
—a ring—

A sweet story being told
Melting, it fills the mold
Every word is a piece of us
Every new world on the canvas

Couldn't you see
Every part of you and me
Has shaped the flowers
Until they became ours

Don't allow yourself to close your eyes;
To sleep or rest, to look away.
You see, you know,
They all lied to you.

Existence;
Immersed in it's ambiguities.
Meaningless suffering,
Life is unjust.

Left behind.
Drowning in real
Refusing to ignore,
It's killing you.

It is all truly there,
It is all that there is.
Onerous to accept it.
You're creating a war with a reality
Who only seeks to destroy.

Nearly lost elation,  
Thoughts transmitted in times of joy,
Hope at times afforded.
Faint memories of it will linger,
Just try to hold on.

-

You think so highly of such a lowlife as yourself,
Or are you it?
Are you it?

Hell is here
        And here
        And everywhere you don't want it to be
You cut to the part of the play where we see Rome burning
        YOU: Sisyphus! Here is your rock!
        ME: Thanks, I thought I lost it!

I hit pause.
Up I go and down I come a
        Merry-go-round that throws up red water
        Free as a stallion
        Free as a show pony

                 Running running running—

You pull me back into the auditorium
        With a thought unheard in an unclean
        Chalice I can't help but drink from
Water from my head filling the crevices that are
Hidden deep
        Deeper
                Deepest and—
Cue the [crash]! and [burn]!
       (Ha! Get it! You’re burning in hell!)

That’s all this is, isn’t it?
       A carefully scripted (comedy) tragedy by a (God) Devil.
I read the script again.
You’re drowning in the fire of your sins
"Condemned by the Father you once loved
Like an unfulfilled prayer
Gathering dust in hell."
I throw it in the fire.

        Running running running.