Interlude

One shooting star
In the black, empty skies,
Lights up the waters from afar
In a myriad of colours and dies.

Below the weeping willow
Many dansing flames
Cast on the bark a shadow,
Whorls and patterns of burning stems.

Along the stream of purple water
Lies the body of a thousand stars,
Bursting shimmers that falter
As the sun rises above the misty hours.



Simple words make simple poems in a language that is not I.

You know the world is really gone to hell when banks, of all corporations, are supposedly given billions from the people’s pockets and are allowed to not give an account of their spending... It makes you question whether the whole ‘bailout’ is even real or if it’s not another bedtime story to hide other things. So many lies, so many games of deceit based on the masses’ blindness...

I’m such a peaceful, child-like idealist that I could never understand the perversity that runs like poison through humanity’s veins. If humanity was a gigantic human body then its limbs would be black with necrosis, its heart still beating but slowed by the gangrene, its brain prisoner of a scortching fever sending its mind into a torpor interrupted only by sudden delusions.

Being human myself, it is very hard for me to choose between my kind and nature. If nature was to win, and it must at some point, then I would have to share humanity’s common destiny- no exceptions can be made. It’s hard to accept that we deserve the worst that is coming to us and yet yourself as a person have done very little wrong.

The people always pay for the greed of a few in power, that is how the human race works. Quantities of people rather than quality means that it is more likely to give a handful on top free reins for longer, and those who can still see through the web of lies are made powerless in their relative isolation and inherent lack of ruthless fighting skills. Good people can only lose because the good would never get caught in the corrupt’s games.

Then I imagine what it would be like if all the people were back in the wild, and I wonder who would survive. The wicked, the cheats and ruthless manipulators would, again, be kings in the jungle and people like me wouldn’t last a day. Or would we? I wonder...

I just can’t get my head around the reality that so many people could kill to get what they want, and if that is a remnant of survival instincts then where is mine? I just don’t understand how we can’t possibly all live in peace, really. How come it seems so hard for so many to question themselves and challenge their wicked streaks. I don’t understand how you could read these words and smirk, thinking ‘what a naive, child-like view of the world’ when it is at the core of everything our kind supposedly strives for.

We have such a unique and potentially formidable ability to think and reason, to learn from our mistakes and evolve. We can choose. We can remain under nature’s control if we want to, or we can attempt to become more civilised and create the most wonderful things, yet we choose to taint everything with blood and money, the latter being the biggest illusion of all times.

Anger and deception

Dawn is a special time of the day, its fiery veil hanging at the feet of the world to be slowly lifted across the skies by the invisible hand of time. As light prevails over darkness, so does the clarity of thoughts in the mind, but just as dawn is replaced by daylight, that clarity of the mind soon fades into blindness again.

The mighty sky

A fire crack

Bellowing cry

Of passing crows

Over the track

And the blue skies

Field of sorrows

And blooming tears

Along the sighs

Of winds and piers

Lost in a mist...

we live in such an illusion-based reality that it has become almost impossible to get back to the source of anything at all. I, myself, was born in the midst of a society completely immersed in make-belief and lies concealed under big words that inspire nothing but confidence and idealism. We yearn for big ideals such as freedom and justice and equality, and children will spend most of their time growing up in schools drilling ideal definitions into their skulls.

Those children become adults faced with the biggest sham there ever was: while such big words are held high like flags waving in the wind, the reality of how society works is based solely on how good a lier you will prove, how deep your pockets are, and on who you know, of course. Such blatant hypocrisy I suspect is inherent to human nature, always trying to step over nature and prove ourselves more worthy than the rest- more intelligent. Well if intelligence was based on consistency and logical behaviour then we would score quite low.

What I do come to realise is that in the great scheme of things man has barely begun to move away from a very primitive animal bound by its instincts. We’re not human yet, as many seem to believe and define it, we’re still in the process of becoming humans. There is still a long way to go until we finally shed away the remnants of feral behaviour poorly disguised under fancy materialism and a technology that can only be a reflection of our true potential as humans.

One day perhaps we will achieve the full state of human being, but until then we are in limbo. No longer complete animals, not yet liberated from our feral instincts.

Then again, what do I know? I only know as much as my limited perception of reality allows me. I look at the millions of other lives around and I struggle to imagine them as three dimentional people who actually are as alive as I am with lives of their own, doing other things at the same time as I am writing this. The whole concept of never being sure that everything around you is as real as you think you are is quite disturbing at times.

What if only a few were in fact real and the rest part of some simulation? No, that would be crazy. I can’t think of a reason good enough to grant myself the priviledge to be real over billions of others who would in fact be an illusion. That brings me to the conclusion that we are all very real, only stuck in a limited state of perception of our reality. Added to that is the padded version we are born into these days where illusions overwhelm our senses from every corner.

Television, movies, the internet, the telephone and all its gadgets... Big corporations and massive companies that have taken over our main means of survival, who feed us, cloth us, entertain us no end... We do not really become adults anymore, not in the independent, autonomous way. Parents let go of their grown-up offsprings only for society to take over and continue the chaperoning process, concealing its control under the illusion of choices in life when really there are so many choices flooding our heads that we end up unable to make any proper decision.

Ensuring that all basic needs are met and making sure that you are aware that others are worse off all the while dangling the promise that your life could get so much better in front of your nose gives way to apathy to change things. Because ‘it ain’t so bad, really’... Place a few rich kids who seem to have it all, fairy tale stories from rags to riches and you can feed the masses hopes that it could happen to them, too. Just like that singer who now earns millions, or that movie star, or that model who just happened to be spotted while shopping in Primark or something. Yes, YES! This could happen to you, too! believe! You must believe that it could happen to you, that what you see really is what it is.

Please.

By the way, who actually believes, still, in that whole ‘credit crunch’ business? I certainly don’t. Funny how the term just appeared the very day the so-called crisis started, as though whoever came up with it from higher up the social ladder knew it would be the perfect term to stick into people’s minds like the latest trend and whatnot. Now, of course, you hear that term everywhere, as one would talk about the weather, and whenever something is wrong, well, let’s all put it under the handy umbrella ‘credit crunch’ provides so conveniantly.

The whole environment worldwide ‘concern’ is another excuse to put shades on what the problems really are and at the same time it ensures that most people are busy worrying about what isn’t the issue. They’ll be too busy recycling their left-over brussels sprouts while driving two or three cars to think in depth about what could really be going on under their noses.

Oh, and while the ‘intelligencia’ and the ‘rich’ keep busy flying solo in their privet jets all the while buying land in third world countries to spend even less money on food and commodity production - though we’ll still be paying more and more for it-, don’t forget to cut down on your plastic bag consumption cos’ that’s really bad for the environment.

I just wish I could somehow have a bird’s eye view of the whole mess, of our world as a whole, so it would make sense, instead of being limited with my own tiny perspective. I can tell that things are not what they say they are and I can only offer ideas as to what is really going on...and that’s very, very frustrating.

December 2008

The trouble with ‘modern’ music is that no matter how much you like a song you end up sick of listening to it after a while and so the supply must be constant so that people get their fix. I’m an entertainment addict, I won’t deny it. How could it be otherwise when I am so naturally and easily distracted or dazzled? The only difference, I would guess, is that I know I am being fed opium for the brain. 

At times I try hard to go cold turkey but in the end I know every fibre of my body is soaked in illusions. I keep going back for more because it does numb the pain of living, the ignorance I know exists within me like a giant void nestled in my chest.

So come on in Britney, Christina, Pink and whatever other popstar the world will spawn next. 

It’s funny to think that until only recently I was dreaming of becoming an actress, and a famous, glamorous one at that. I bought the whole fame factory story and just like so many others I kind of believed the vibe. And then I suddenly understood that all that showbiz glitter is part of a much bigger illusion-making machine.

 It didn’t bother me that I should be part of such a machine, as long as I was part of the illusion. It is the realisation that I could never join in the illusion making that now puts me off, and so I retreated into the only thing I had left: writing. When illusions become more enticing than anything reality has to offer, existence becomes a form of burden: nothing is ever enough. No illusion or delusion feels real enough and thus you look for more ways to keep the dream going.

If I wasn’t corrupted already then I would be writing about deeper, more meaningful things, but my mind can only handle dreams and fantasy- the very ones that turned me into a living zombie. yet here I am attempting to keep the machine going... Spreading the virus like a good lapdog... My social self, a good chunk of what makes me who I am is definately common and weak; another, more subtle and easily overlooked by my person, fights hard to wake me up. Perhaps that is part of the reason why I write the way I always do, writing fast to capture the gist of what I really mean even if my social self doesn’t get it. “Impressionist writing” allows me to dive deeper and reach that hidden part of me, the only thing worth salvaging, just as an impressionist would capture a certain light fading too fast. 

And then, as I try to read myself I am often baffled and unable to really grasp what it is I am trying to say. Only after a few months or years does it suddenly make sense to me. So now I am waiting, i keep writing and barely ever bother to read back because it would be far too soon and useless- I, of all people, would not get it.