I cant believe im here again
I thought i left it in the past
But a mask cant be worn forever
Biting my tongue in jelousy
Bringing out my frustration into anger
On the people who dont deserve it
Im sorry
I guess the only thing wanted was what i couldnt get
That special "something" you had
Why can't i have it
Maybe im not ready nor mature enough for it
So i attempt to find my someone and instead i found lies
And the worse part is i lied to myself for 7 months straight and didnt notice till the end
So again here i am biting my tongue in jelousy
And wishing i have what you had
Anger against "your type" because i wish i was them
"****** *******!" and isulting the weak that you like
has made me the same im nothing but mentally weak
All i ask for is unconditional love from both ends
Too bad i only found it for one
I truely feel sorry for her
And i congradulate anyone who wins your heart      For i envy him
Here i am letting my tongue free of jelousy
Im sorry this poem didnt rhyme
But right now i dont believe i have the stregth to do so



F.C

What it feels like when you cant run as fast as the others
When you can listen as well as the others
When you cant read as good as the others
When you feel like you are not as good as the others.
But there are people who have lost their privilege to even walk,
and they have finished their race
People who cant hear anything at all but they know how to understand
Some who cant see at all to read, but they try to find themselves a way
They have a smaller chance than us,
We have an advantage to them
Yet they have been in better places than us
We needed faith, something they had and we didn't.
Trust in someone stronger than us.
All we needed was to put who we were in the power of God in order to succeed
Some people go down and a person gets them back up,
But with that, another person as strong can turn them back down
But if its God who pick the person up, then no man as strong as it is can throw him below.

under the shell, inside
my chest, lies a hole,
blacked and beatting still
all the sorrow burn it down
at my 20s, later the pain becomes
a chain hollow and vain

and after all y become free,
from the chains self made
for contain the pain,
only need the one
, that breaks the spell
hearing
nutshel  in my heart

he give my stregth to persist
untill im dead y will die free,
as a man not a creep or a shame,
just a ***** man, trying to be free
fromm pain and deceit.

sacre femme set my freee
fromm the pain and release me
fromm  the burden of shame
and the eyes in my back, looking
some girl to wash them
and take the stains by loving me.

as a beast looking for the one, who
let him free fromm chains of the curse
just by love the sacred connection
that perhaps will set me free.

Is personal gain a must, even when that personal gain hurts,
and scars you...strength beyond strength is one of those personal gains... this stregth stats to tears the body slowly but surely....
Chi heals the senses but  as chi grows more and more as well that also tears the body and the soul.
But Love heals all without time restraining to limits of self worth because just cause you don't feel worthy don't mean you aren't it just means there's another test in your way.
A lesson to be learned....
Can you Learn to many lessons when the lessons are killing parts of you but knowledge gained is a lesson learned right....
Just hold strong to your beliefs no matter who ***** with ya believe in your strength and ya morals which Love has all the healing in the universe especially  when its True Love.
                                 So do you have a Love Like I do?

There is a wall in the journey
One you must go past
But it stretches high and goes out wide
It makes those who pass by, aghast

This wall is solid, standing strong
It blocks the way to the city
It is a blockade, hard to pass
It gives no one pity

Many men bring their carts
They try to enter the city
But many men also fail
Many men lose the trail

They travel so far to be brought to a halt
They leave their cart and go
So outside the wall is a grave yard
With more carts and carrion than you'll ever know

Here is a man who has brought his cart
Through the sea and through the marsh
He arrives at the wall and sees its tall
His thoughts being,  why is this so harsh

He traveled around and round and round
Trying to find a way in
But the eall was made strong and complete, no where is it thin

After he fails to see a way through
He simply say there is no way
With thoughts like that, it is impossible
You always tend to stray

Here is another man
One who is strong
He tries to scale the wall, cart in hand
But he will only fall

Your own stregth isn't enough
So many journeyman give up
This man came, cart and water
Hoping it will help him,


But one cup will run out,
Leaving you with a longing for more Something greater still
So will they ever leave the floor

You see here is three men
All of whom have failed
But here is three men
Of the graveyard almost filled

There are many more
Many stories untold
Many journeys to death
But to tell there is no one bold

I look into your eyes.
I see straight through you.
You give the apperence of stregth.
To me this is untrue.

When I look I see you crying.
I see you screaming out in vain.
I want to be there for you.
I want to take your pain.

I want to make you smile.
But not just on the outside.
I want to see you laugh.
The peace you long to find.

I want to help you to do this.
I want to be right near.
I long for you to listen.
I long for you to hear.

When you look into me.
I hope you feel the same.
I want us to help each other.
Help take away the pain.

The pain from the past.
Which is still close behind.
We can begin to run from it.
Your hand locked in mine.

As our hands are tangled.
With our hearts and souls.
We will find one another.
Two halves now a whole.

I can not promise perfection.
I am only a man.
But I will show you.
That you can love again.

borrowing from a pink floyd album cover:
it will take a 12h shift:
standing: not marching: i'd much prefer
a 12h shift of just walking than standing
in one spot: rooted in like a tree:
your skeleton is not supposed to imitate
a tree:
you almost want to stand on one foot...
but your toes are only so numerous (x10)
before the pins and the needles reach into
clarifying you are a bipedal creature
with an ***** spine:
i tried dancing on the spot
i tried being a hunchback i tried everything...
bypass comes after about 10h when
the fatigue wears off and some strange
adrenaline kicks in and the pain is numbed
(which wasn't a pain, just an irritation
to begin with) - and the body is worn enough
like a gratitude...
plus is was Wanstead and all the east London
hispters and the thoroughly bred
well: all the women are mothers but they
look so average so average
none of those whorish **** types you want
for one night:
then there was this couple and obviously
middle aged with two boys...
one had an oversized head and absolutely no
shoulders
his brother in a wheelchair all strobe-light happy
in spasms of trying to give birth to ego
and to the vector of ego that could be translate
as thought:
a happy vegetable: well: all botanical life
is alive and moving to the waves of photosynthesis
so much parody:
i was thinking in splinters of moments:
if i am so degenerate in my ethics of perhaps
my biology and i am not given access to
reproduce: i will... just watch this spectacle
of the receeding hairlines and the weak jaws
and the choice women have made
and i will be deliberately humble about
how people want life to be the conjuring
of a magic of misery...
am i o.k. with "nature": yes! am i concerned
about the civilization of nature:
the unnaturalization process that spews out
of the mouths of Christianity:
how the weak are supposed to humble the strong
and leave the strong unwilling to protect
the weak?
that is what Christianity has spawned...
                        the weak bias of weakness...
there is no strong bias of stregth:
even in that single sentence i see...
                        there is only strength and will:
determination...
but the weak spawn a -ness: a quality about them
that crumbles under the weight of
solititude and: eventually that solitutde turns into
a solipsism: which, is a veneer: a mask:
a prototype which becomes an archetype of
imitating a mountain...
standing ground watching as time erodes...
how time bends...
for those 12h i tried to conjure a narrative akin
to the peep / peak show... with an internal
narrative to hush hush talk miserably about the people
around me:
but i realised: when you negate thinking:
i.e. i'm not thinking:
when you obstruct thinking rather than pseudo-obstruct
thinking with acts of meditation and
meditation is such oriental *******...
we're Europeans! we don't meditate!
we either think! or we don't think!
meditation is a pathology of the lack of obsruction!
to borrow from architecture and the dams
and how rivers swell and become lakes
and in turn are harnessed to create electricity...
at this Wanstead festival i witnessed the holistic
jargon eye and ******* swelling crap
like 45min sessions of people sitting in
a darkened tent tapping their foreheads...
listening to windchimes and witchcraft...
as i said to my Pakistani coworker:
well: i can imagine that massaging the temples
would do you some good: since that's the most
vulnerable part of the cranium: besides the eye sockets:
but tapping your forehead thinking it would
conjure up Buddha's third eye...
i can ******* headbutt you... do i need to tap
my ******* forehead too?
i can ******* headbutt you like a Mongolian yak...
savvy?
oh jeez... and the music: this karaoke was
so terrible...
                     well... what i was trying to figure out...
Wanstead is not Chelsea and these hispters
with their families:
some apparently deflecting biological hazards
of leaving it much too late to reproduce...
but everyone was just giving themselves a pat on
the shoulder for having achieved a momentous
clarity of family:
while i just stood there: twinkle toe...
a vastness of reading and isolation...
                              sparingly a comment came
which i overheard between four men
concerning the "yellow jackets"...
         until one approached me and asked
me for the direction to the toilets: which he already
knew:
but the way he approached me was
from a descriptive angle:
well, you look stern and authoritative...
do i?
                      the black cap and sunglasses
are not a ******* Batman suit:
do you see me wearing underwear over my trousers?
i didn't say that: i didn't even think that:
i'm only now, writing about it...
ad hoc hindsight... which i find more and more:
hindsight is a great tool for narration:
because you don't have any narratative component
when the moment comes:
it's only hours later that it creates a dawn of a splinter
a suffocation of silence that needs to be
broken...

so in that: all well known album cover...
light passes through a prism: for the sake of argument
the prism is 2D...
so white light passes through a prism... triangle...
and emerges as a rainbow...
now...

  thinking                      not thinking...
besides meditation:
meditation in the oriental sense is...
i saw those *******...
they obstruct not thinking by creating
frequencies... making sounds...
and i don't mean Mongolian sound generation
of the khoomei... the Tuvan practice
of reaching into your stomach for a breath
and raising it to your throat
while also blocking your ability to breathe
through your nose creating a blocked
cavity (misnomer aplenty, regardless)...
but these ******* are willing meditation:
they are so blind to: not thinking...
that they are actually thinking about: "not thinking":

by way of honing into a specific sound
of the "guru"...
                    i never thought that i could
experience seeing people so pathological about
clinging to thinking:
and these people are, categorically:
pathological concerning keeping up with
the Descartes and the Kants...
thinking without focus / systematications...
no labyrinths no rivers...
no great yawn seas of perverted time of
their own, singular, vessels...

          you either think: or you don't think...
so if i take the light and the 2D prism away...
and instead...
i posit a cube...
and just draw a straight line into the cube
and just call it time...
i can replace light with time...
but for me to replace light with time
i need a 3D object for the vector to pass into:
after all:
what does thinking cushion, absorb...
time... thinking has nothing to do with space:
and i think that's what really bothers most people...
that thinking is associated with time...
while not thinking is associated with space...
categorical-negation: NOT-THINKING

**** i even had to craft a hyphenated compound
for the subject matter!
not-thinking ≠ meditation...
                               maybe meditation is something
the orient invented itself in because
its phonetic encoding create a dissonance
from how simple and universal sounds are...
i mean:
     i once wrote a poem about red and green...
but that became deleted (somehow: ooh woo hoo)
octopus, milk, sugar... otherwise oscar, mike, sierra...
that's what came through the radio
and i just giggled...

                  why are traffic lights
red amber green
green is safe
but what if blue: blue is flow... good to go...
otherwise blue is the light of an ambulance
speeding:
blue is: let us pass through:
so it's not like people can't see blue
in the daylight...
ah but red and amber: conjure up brown?
no... blue and red contrasts...
yellow and blue make brown?

                  shifty tactic... now just spewing...
but regardless of light...
if time is the equivalent to light...
and passes through a 3D rather than a 2D prism...
(in the case of 2D: an optical element,
so viable)
                           ... thinking is associated
with time...
but not-thinking... that's the cushion for space
to absorb you, chew you, digest you: spit you out
but retain a part of you that will eventually
be ******* out...
                              yet time and thinking...
a bit like medtiation:
meditation is a laxative:
you want to enter a state of meditation whereby
you stop thinking: but you're not not-thinking...
meditation is an answer as to why we were
able to domesticate animals...

                            oh no one here who's a loud
mouth and know it how...
these words: written with the envy of silence
have no voice of my own...
but they can be the reader's own words...
i will not utter them...

                        that tapping on the forehead
bothered me a great deal...
                           meditation is not a negating-obstruction
of thinking...        there is only the categorical-negating
article of: NOT: the definite articulation of
the swaying-obstruction of NO...
                     there is NO moon
                     becomes: that is NOT (a / the -ism) moon...

12h shift... several hours later and
my plughole of an **** gets finally unblocked
with relaxation my rummaging my intestines
with a bread that doesn't use the ingredient of wheat:
just seeds and white cheese (not as salty
as a feta)...

                          and we even haven't began to
talk about Islam's fascination with consciousness...