Category: Uncategorized


floating through subnivian space

late night thunders

dim lit rooms

wind flirting with rain

wet windowpanes by candlelight

wind-chimes in melody uncluttered of human touch

rain spoke to me, with every droplet of heaven tracing through my skin, disappearing past my heart, disappearing somewhere a tantalizing touch.

`.. loooves it.

but knowing the pathetic haram mess you are + my neverending compassion for you + your distraught, lost existence of everything that makes a man ( – a steady job )

I will pray for you

I will pray differently than I did a solid 2 years ago

because

after all this, I don’t freaking know why I care!

but

i

do

LaH

&& not to feel like a complete hypocrite’ currently so am I .. a haram pathetic mess that is.

& somebody’s got to do the job … to un-haram ………..& ya … lost the thought.

so this is what ‘true’ (shameonme) love does to you huh, must I rot in hell forever for your arse

Between time and a goldfish capability to store anything in memory, I’m way overdue in coming about in all my heartlessly b!tc|-|y glory, that one that defined who I was, my shield against the ugliest personalities in human existence. Somewhere, innocence cut me by the throat. . . god damn.

There is a difference between ‘ignorance is bliss’ & ‘ignorant by education’. Mind you and mind me, they both serve amazing results to successions of human dynasty, power struggles justified, inequaility glorified, injustice blamed on the victim . . and an utterly impossible sense of self-worth. Ignorance’ is bliss. Ignorance is the shield that makes you selfish, that is the enabler of every *****r******n souless B&B out there.

And somewhere along the way, most of us forget or just simply disbelieve in any existence of God.

He himself seems to favour the deathly cold . . but hey that is the point of perseverance, patience, experiential learning.

There is a bigger difference in what I feel now, dictated by a fast (yet excruciatingly slow) comingbouts’  in this translucent black water personality of mine. All it took was 3.5 days watching myself succumb to cruel BUT truest reality &&& then 4.5 days of watching myself rise up slowly’ with more hatred anchored to the abysmal ocean of my torrid existence. . . heartbreak redefined, faith renewed, life thrown in perspective without the deadly grip of “hope”, of “what if`s”.

Hopefully it stays, for it will fuel my motivation to ….. everything.

. . and when I have remained heartless long enough to establish my foundation that’s broken in too many peices; I will return to you, I will return to innocence. I will hopefully shed this snaky skin and embrace life just like I did before I stepped into the real world; without all my safety nets.

Come back to me, . . For I never left while you left me.

Remember me, . . the stifing process of healing will begin.

Recognize me, . . I still look the same despite all that’s destroyed.

Accept me, we are two halves of One.

This vicious cycle of self blame is also done. Pucker Up, find that cloak & move on forth’ if you want to live.

I guess the most effective blow is the one that comes fast and teaches you in a split second’ what your dreams are made of.

I am not bitter today. I am real today.

Live free but keep death in mind
choose your affections but watch your true will
feel nature in every heartbeat but realize destitution

walk a mile but with the walk of life aligned
mean what you say but joke with a grin
exile in happiness but remember tragedy’s a step behind
be a lover but keep your soul in your vision


Ok… reminder to self’

– start writing

– get over it

– get back on track

. . learn to hate!


and repeat*

vent`ing

Are you guilty?               yes..!!.

Why?                                   far too many crimes of deranged, wretched hopes.

Does it matter?              Not for a single bleeping second it does not.

 . . at least for that which cannot be seen, heard, acknowledged, felt, illicit disgust from another {but your royal abhorrently weak self fuelled by your pathetic heart & tortured warrior mind desperately trying to break free from any association with that heart !}

The solid bold taste of black coffee leaves my taste-buds more satisfied than de most orgasmic cuisine. If I tried hard enough, I could see my reflection in this cup. If I tried even harder, I could exhaust myself without anymore one-way conversations with God.

We’re not much different, shades of black & I, descendants of the dark &&where I find myself in another stimuli-laced, mind numbing tirade of questions without answers, answers without reply, replies without basis. Philosophically driven, realistically miracle quality material drumming up fantasies in the corridors of your imagination. Kind`a like staring at your naked reflection in your bathroom mirror fogged by steam, sexy but barely recognizable. Hot water dispensed in the bathtub you spent seemingly hours soaking in, breathing in lavender & magnolia candles watching your silhouette do a dirty dance & then disappear in your comfort zone hoping for tomorrow to be better than yesterday, than that very moment.

Self-talk, a billion & 1 ( for that dimly burning candle of hope which don’t ever die down). Fkuc the rest, 1 life is not much for hell if you believe in reincarnation & If you don’t . . don’t bother get yourself thinking of what comes after death when prior to death, sin loves you to death?!

Oh it’s been a God damned long while, but realistically another chapter has only begun, carrying forward from the unfinished ones.

Any bloody pursuers? I wonder if he will know what he’s in for, or be driven by infatuation like the rest, until they fall flat. I am my own perfect disaster.

“Life is what you make of it” – he said.

Right you are..! but where the ╒∞|< do you start?

writers block ¤

¤ 29/09/2009

Countless requests, urgence, persistence brings me here to gnaw myself out of this state of blank towards something of a collective expression. I never realized how hard it would be to dilute this longstanding writers block, but then again a rapidly changing human mind is anything but (“emo”-chemically) solvent though I wish that were possible. In essence perhaps what I am trying to do is refine some of this torrentially, dry & wordy sandstorms of intellectual deficits, growths, pursuits, resonance from the depths of my existence, pack them in little pretty bubbles & bring to the surface.

Writing used to be an outlet at a time, words would flow out of my heart & some would be easily written off on virtual notepads with these clicks I fire off on a well compensated Toshiba laptop. Ah yes, all i can draw my conclusions on, is that i was naive then, watching this universe from my well-protected windows with rose-tinted glasses. I remember being a total doll! With innocence, a sense of goodness, compassion oozing out of me. . . I suppose I can say I’m more realistically evolved to “survival of the fittest” theoretical nowadays, which just might be the reason WHY I have this writers block that totally refuses to just go away. After-all it’s not like I’m asking my  conscious to let go of its guards & show itself to the entire world, just for me, only for me.! I can do that for me, I like to hope!?!

Moments before now i dragged my tired body from the most comfortable sofa, hoping to maybe catch some of these thoughts that descend on the streets of my consciousness, dancing away madly, engraving their imprints through another midnight hour with tired eyes but the sharpest state this mind every conjures to within its circadian rhythms. It’s odd how so many conversations, so many things to say were speeding through the corridors of my conscious minutes before & now they draw a blank. Must be the light reflecting off MS WORD!

&& yet here I am now, firing off whatever comes to mind but none of this is worth it. It’s verbal diarrhea @ best blocking my intellectual receptors, scattering gazillion thoughts in one go, all irrelevant to what I really was thinking (but who else is going to make it through reading this jibberish some 3-4 years from now so it is ok, I forgive me! For wasting me time, now & later…)

But i can feel my heart pumping, beating slowly as it has been since the aches got weaker, time did it’s bit of healing magic (not moving away from it :))

¤pain

¤ confidence

¤ assurance

¤ indecision

. . another night I spend in bed with these dominant emotions, one-way conversations with God will eventually lull me to sleep again tonight, whilst soothing powers of Enigma’s musical genius procreate new realizations, recreate old emotions/realizations & I will fade off with another “I know” smile for myself.  It’s always the same. Navy-blue skies engulf me, starless nights embrace me; I run from me.

I wait for difference within myself, I wait for change in my vision, I wait for strength to walk away from the life that betrayed. I wait for the day God will give me the green signal to take on this new life, this recurring cycle of life; with irreversible confidence, brand spanking new solace..

None of it makes sense to me any longer. The fight, the sacrifice, the injustice, the untouchable, the invinsible tragedy, the defeat of purity, the victory of evil. (& I look to the sky for answers why . . why God, is this fair? In your court is this fair? . .)

I continue walking wherever life leads me, faith seals me, God takes me, searching for reasons, 1 reason perhaps, to believe in happy endings again, to return to innocence, to fiercely believe in something again.

. . I will never understand why we must hurt one another, i will never understand why good always suffers. I have given up trying to understand why it is next to impossible for many to change for the better, there are simply too many reasons, too much cause, none the better.

Silly me, I still hope on good nature of the human race while i watch with these eyes widening beyond physical perimeters just how far people go, to get their ways, how many invisible murders we commit, how much we fail to see a damn thing.

The lifespan of the child within homo sapiens continue to decrease every year. Beauty is superficial, a sappy advertisement to produce propaganda. We grow up faster and faster, forgetting all that matters, all but our individual selves.. why are we humans such monsters in disguise?

{{ps . maybe I will know the answer when I read you years down the line again =) . .}}

© .S K.

Lifehouse – Broken

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight

Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time

And I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts

I am damaged at best, like you’ve already figured out

 

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing

With a broken heart that’s still beating

In the pain there is healing

In your name I find meaning

 

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head

I tried my best to be guarded, I’m an open book instead

And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes

That are looking for purpose, they’re still looking for life

 

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing

With a broken heart that’s still beating

In the pain there’s the healing

In your name I find meaning

So I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on, (I’m still holdin’)

I’m barely holdin’ on to you

 

I’m hanging on another day

Just to see what you will throw my way

And I’m hanging on to the words you say

You said that I would, would be ok

 

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone

I may have lost my way now, haven’t forgotten my way home

 

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing

With a broken heart that’s still beating

In the pain there is healing

In your name I find meaning

So I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on,

I’m barely holdin’ on to you

 

I’m holdin’ on

I’m holdin’

I’m holdin’ on

I’m barely holdin’ on to you

23/09/09 : 2.25am

It’s that time of the year, when the world around me dances in celebration & silent pain within dead quiets of the nights. As winds go from warm to breezy to chilly, it invades every sense, my disposition becomes cooler as the nights progress faster within its slumber, leaving me to reflect upon the cards of destiny dealt thus far. My senses heighten at this time of the year. I take in every breath, feel in every person, sense every smell, observe every expression, recall 23 years of scattered memories, passionately fall in love with the burning smell of wood on chilly mornings & taste the very last drop of freshly brewed Arabica coffee.

In this very moment. . I’m surrounded by absolute silence as the world around me rests in deep slumber while a quiet blanket of seeming serenity has encapsulated this town. The leaves are turning crisp shades of auburn, subtle winds gravitate weightless leaves from their places, turning this town into shades of auburn all around. It is truly a beautiful sight, when Canadian autumn arrives. Such melancholy, such heartache, such beauty, it is the season of change, of loss, of passion, it’s Autumn.

Off in the distance, I can hear the sounds of cars speeding past off a highway ramp. Such ambient sounds take me back in time, of memories drowning in wine, conversations laced in intrinsically pure aches from the deepest corner of a heart, whilst her demons danced on her walls. I still remember my reflection on a wine glass half full with chardonnay, verses & stanzas raining heavily in my head. I still remember everything as if it happened yesterday . .

For I know, Autumn was when I was born again, little less rigid, embarrassingly transparent, lost within life’s first real test, clutching to faith but ceaselessly, pure.

But for now, I will continue to rock in this chair, watch my shadow on the wall, lose myself in intoxicating sonatas of Arabia, wish on this beautiful night to stretch just a little longer for the only thing to complete this moment of melancholic memories is cup of coffee before I may disappear within the night once another day more.

for “I take my coffee black, black like my heart” black like my soul . .

 

& my words remain scattered, nowhere is there continuum, nor flow neither composition, there is as much silence in this heart as there are voices in my head. It appears, some souls truly come alive when all else dies.

& written words can never do justice, for they cannot slightly capture the beauty in tragically beautiful chaos. For now, I wish to hear the sound of rain lightly falling over my windowpane, rain on me, perhaps release me from my memories, just for a little while..¤ 

 

© .S K.