A person's feet often stick out of every box they have picked up. Because people keep interfering in their lives - no matter how much they deny it -. Everyone has been burned many times by the frivolous, nagging, grotesque, hopeless Reality. It would be nice to hope even in the multitude of non-existent things, if that is all it takes for a person to start a new life, which - exceptionally - still has and can have value and meaning.

We have now become a little fed up with the fact that we have always inherited useless sermons and good-sounding hymns of praise from those who were in power at the time; The habit of being mean and sneaky really radically, oppressively settles on our already difficult, stuffy lives, like most of the slimy, slippery promises, with which the brainwashed, and therefore unsuspecting, average person can be lured in.

In the restless workshop of our lives, there is less and less room for the arrival of Universal loves, for a few eternal truer friends who brought salami bread and cinnamon milk gruel during the bitter cold; there are fewer and fewer four or five doors in this world where the prodigal, weak person can knock calmly, even at night or at dawn, because they are welcomed with welcoming love and even seated at the table without a whimper.

Everyone is a bit like the suffering superiority of those with a painful stomach ache, who already sense in advance and know what will happen unexpectedly, and they deliberately look down on those who try or those who get a foothold, just because they did not get it from the abundant interests and networks of patronage relationships. We can no longer be completely satisfied and generous with people who are confident in their superiority and who are perfectly satisfied with themselves, as they increasingly exhibit increasingly suspicious and calculating behavior, at least on the surface!

There, in the chapel rising on the small hill, where perhaps two people could barely fit, when you were brought in a carriage pulled by two apple-colored Pegasus horses; where a few diligent, busy women's hands gathered a feverish forest of flower bouquets, a rainbow flood of tired daisies strangled in wreaths - yes! There the blissful, redeeming yeses should have been said, which could only really mean something to us, since they reserved the Everything with a holy oath.

Then there should have been will, devotion, a beautifying dream - which at the same time eagerly nourishes, consumes, but nourishes - with which two beating hearts in love can finally belong to each other. You should have escaped a little while, when you did not let your snow-white voluminous veil fall to dust, with your moon-silver tiara, and a loyal protection, a protective harmony accompanying you throughout your life, which says in your superstitious doe eyes: "I have chosen you as my companion!"

- You should have arranged - only with a common will - the secret desires of immortal Fates, so that even the one-Beloved could be absolutely sure of his/her business, and doubt, suspicion, deceived temptation could not even fearlessly break the predestined bond of togetherness.

We would have clung to the plane with gazelle-like leaps, so that then on a half-uninhabited subtropical, paradise island, on a snow-white sand bed, in front of the sun's disc that wanted to set, we would have sworn in our hearts that we were beating: True, Good, Noble, so that the ragged life would take note two human, earthly stars, whatever happens, poverty or wealth, two immortal Universe-souls, now united until the end of time.

– The true word that resides in the deepest part of the heart should have been spoken as if it were the last one to be spoken here on earth: ,,If you really love, then neither Porsche, Ferrari, nor a fancy bag costing half a million, nor a castle on duck legs matters, because you feel that it is better to belong to someone than to just be floundering here and there like a luxury item for the seventh time in a lifetime.

Your children, later your grandchildren, will throw our loving instinct-egoisms at your eyes in vain; you can cry through a shower of abundant fountain pearls for an eternity, because you were a compromiser, a bargain-maker and maybe even a little coward, because you gave in to the predictable alluring power of prosperity and wealth. – Long, difficult At the end of our journeys, perhaps we will meet again, and then I will make your once golden, loving heart confess to you!

I keep turning back through the pages of my life's codex; memories, shadows of the past, even the persistent, tenacious deep layer, the poor pimples of annual rings still hint at a recurring ominous omen for my otherwise shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe life. The weight of crystal memories almost crushes me, even though I was no more sinful, foolish, or wasteful than the rest - a kind face, a good deal of good mood, unexpectedly comes to mind, because I often gain more truth from the reflections of talkative faces than from the cavernous depths of soiled, muddied souls.

In petrified depths, along with adverse trials, a few more eloquent sermons bubble up: "My dear friend! Why is this useless, worn-out life of yours not good for you?! It's true! Your bills and utilities are still in order, and even though you haven't bought yourself a new jacket, Lewis jeans, or elegant Italian leatherette shoes in ten or so years, you can still wait a long time for that sparkling toothpaste commercial smile.

Why do you behave like an orphaned light flickering in the darkness of the night, which deliberately prefers to hide its petty, selfish secrets and only glows from the inside?!" Your human attitude seems to last only for seconds, because at the same time you are attracted, but at the same time you are repelled by the sluggish, cynical indifference with massive awareness, the millennial principle of our time, since nothing changes, Existence can only seem more and more unbearable.

- A duel of spirits could not be easier, especially if the wise science of arguing is banned within radical frameworks by knowledgeable smart tonics, because they are truly terrified of the power of innovative creative thoughts and ideals. Your naive-childish, eternal Sisyphean worries and exploitability are now being played with by jerks and fools, while they splash pathetic, petty words at you halfway; be careful! It's not too late!

Don't Shed your viscerally restless life! Because you would like to reach there yourself in a worthy way, where joy and satisfaction await, and not the hustle and bustle of everyday robot work! And how good it would be there, arm in arm with your Beloved, to write the laws of the Universe in the sand!

A heart that beats for others deserves better than an empty, cold apartment. The broom of painted swallowtail eyelashes is a transparent exhibitionist curtain, where all essence is lost, because they let the echo drops of the soul be lost. Man no longer has great world-saving goals, only to finally reach a heart line identical with his split subconscious self. A beautiful supermodel-bomber is hardly noticeable, because the exaggerated body culture, the health mania, destroys and infects the levels of the Soul.

A skinned leopard fur coat - despite being an unaffordable luxury item - regularly exudes an unbearable stench; and while a manipulator is calculating with manipulative, deceitful methods, maybe he can have the biggest scam of the decade – average guys who are considered losers and suckers jump into the Danube as an internal consideration.

They are scattered around, as if their long-lost bohemian-dwelling eternal friends were mourning their second youth. A buzzing insect-circle dance – nowadays, this is all that the gigantic, principled treadmill of everyday life can be worth, because work never comes to the house voluntarily, that is the sole privilege of the big dogs and sharks; because everyone would rather look for the invisible, sure way out, while they can, hopes, stubborn illusions, foolish beliefs turn into frozen falls.

On the discarded, serviced street of Time, like occasional drunks, they stumble half-blindly one after another, the petty-murderous humiliations instilled over decades, the humility tolerated, the chasms towards which honesty and truth rush at once, since it may seem impossible to do anything with the Present!

Ever since we gained consciousness
We were-
Taught to slit throats; not algebra and geometry
Handed not cricket bats but automated rifles

Taught not to play but to hang them by the tree
Dressed not in uniforms but bandanas over our forehead.
Sworn not to education but to shoot heartlessly

We raided a village and killed the head
Took some more of their kind
Decapitated; watched the green turn red
We smoked their temple; raised our flag
Watch the light fade
As they fell into eternal nap.

Their forces marched with guns and bombs
But mostly useless; for we hid among shadows
We reigned over branches and slit them when they least expected.
We had sworn our loyalty when we hadn't learnt to speak
We felt no joy; no sorrow
We didn't know what our future would be,
Would it be a death in the form of a bullet?
Would it be called normalcy?

One raid complete- forced to fight the next
We were always fighting for they said we were the best,
All of us had our appetite for blood,
I robbed a mother of her child-
Snapped the little thing right in front of her.
Shot one up his ******,
Plucked one off his ear-
A girl my age watched with horror, the advocacy of a Devil-
Smeared in mahogany red with gushes of fluid splashing on my face.
I gripped the machete, ready to strike
But her eyes were an aegis of her own-
An iron resistance against something that had never felt warmth,
My heart ached as if Hell was gavelling every part of me.
To tear that perfect face of hers- To gouge out her aegis with my warhammer.
Every step towards her felt heavy, so I pulled out my pistol
Aiming right towards her, my finger jammed as if the metacarpals were commanding me to stop.
I had like a Godman bestowed mercy upon her to cover up my inability to blow her the Death kiss.

As I turned the other side, a bullet flew beside my ear-
The "swoosh" rapidity bedazzled me
With anxiety and fear, I turned my back
To see my Dead Deity,
The comrade shot her dead- his unholiness pierced through her shield.
A string passed through my head and it gifted me a memory;
Of us playing in the sand building castles
Of us going to school together
Never had I seen the beach,
Never had I experienced learning,
So what was that?

After the raid was done, I plucked a blood-stained daisy and placed it over her dead body.
And to this day, I think
How life would've been
If it was different and she was with me.