Live in love
Time, is it here forever? Cant you feel it running, surging through your veins, time... I find time to cast a darkening shadow in the past, Not from tragedy but because time moves forward toward the light. We've been in the blue and green,but red im still traveling. Traveling toward the light, traveling with time.
Do we mark our lives with years, months, minutes? What stakes do we drive along the track that make a difference. What things do we leave behind, and what do we take with us to the light. Ask yourself this, "Did someone feel my love." Warming arms, cold heartache, worried hands clasped. Time reveals who felt these things from you. Scattered in the past are some who went separate ways. While others have traveled beside you all along or have met back up with you bringing forgiveness.
To say that you have wasted time would be foolish, time never leaves you and every moment is yours to have. Its here, You ride it along ,aging, becoming wiser or bitter. All coming from how you loved. Not who you loved or why you loved, but that you loved. Treat your friends like they are your days and nights, Treat your family as though they are your lifes blood. Leave an impression on those you care for, letting them know you tried. The only regret should be if no one ever felt your love.
A taste of red is wise, a shout of green is growth, a bit of blue is humble, but you should know time travels all these colors. What did you paint with what you were given. What moments made the strokes upon your canvas. Life is not something to regret... not something to forget... and not something to be wasted, no matter how tough the time or dark the colors might be.... Its good to have contrast, Thats what brings depth.
When its time that you are done with your moments and your painting is to be revealed, Do let everyone know that you tried. Tried to paint a picture of your life so that everyone could tell that through love for them a masterpiece was created. To answer the question, Is time here forever, the answer is simply "not for you."
29 April 2007
27 April 2007
Blanket of Hope
I try to give comfort, I try to say that life will get better. But then I am halted in mid-sentence. For I realize that to say so would be a lie. How can I give comfort when I have none of it for myself? How can I say that everything will turn out alright, when I doubt that it truly will? Is comfort but an illusion? A blanket against the cold night of despair that we throw over ourselves in vain hope? Hope is the comfort of the doomed, a shield against the bitter harshness of inevitability. Can I give this comfort to another? Am I capable of it? Although it feels right, it feels like a lie too. I should not be in this position now. I am still that child deep down, who is cold and alone in the dark. I am still that child who cries out to be given comfort. Yet I am called on to give the comfort I do not possess. It's like being cursed with the knowledge that everything will not end up just fine, that any hope taken would be in vain. I know that life is cruel, and hard, and that we are but shadows and dust on the vast stage of eternity. And that knowledge makes me feel cold. I am not given a blanket of hope. But I keep hoping. Yet I can give one to another. It is a gift one need not possess in order to give. But do I give it? It would be merciful. But it would not be right. For in those last moments, when they come to realize what I have known all along…I become the betrayer, for I will have told a lie. Perhaps it is better to know the bleakness of reality, to be aware of the lack of purpose that we spend our entire lives seeking fruitlessly to find. At least that way we do not waste our lives looking for something that is not there. But, really, what purpose is there in that? Perhaps, then, it is better after all to delude ourselves. To throw the blanket of hope over our eyes. It will keep us blind…but warm. Still, I would not do that. I cannot trade my sight for warmth. Because the truth is, it really is cold. And that blanket can be taken from you at any time. And then it would be even more painful than to never have had it. We have to find our own meaning in this life. There is no grand purpose for us at the end of it all. In the end…we are all just shadows and dust. And we must make the most of what we have, while we can, knowing all along that anything we make will ultimately be torn down. There are those moments…when you get a glimpse of hope, a glimmer of destiny through it all, and it can make you believe for a moment…that just maybe there is something for us here after all. When you behold the glory of a sunset or the vastness of the sea, or the grandeur of the earth from atop a mountain, and you feel like there is some purpose to everything. But can you ever achieve any of those things? Can you achieve a sunset's beauty? Can you touch the skies? Can you put the sea in a bottle or embrace a mountain? We humans are only spectators. And even the earth itself will end no more purposefully than us someday. But still…sometimes the beauty of life is just too much to ignore. Sometimes you just breathe in the air and, knowing fully that someday you will die, those you love will die, and the very earth will someday die, you still find inspiration. You still find warmth. And then you realize not that you had the blanket of hope all along, but that hope is not a blanket to be given or taken. Hope can be embraced at will, as can your destiny. And whatever meaning we find in life, though it lasts not beyond our mortal lives, it is enough.
I try to give comfort, I try to say that life will get better. But then I am halted in mid-sentence. For I realize that to say so would be a lie. How can I give comfort when I have none of it for myself? How can I say that everything will turn out alright, when I doubt that it truly will? Is comfort but an illusion? A blanket against the cold night of despair that we throw over ourselves in vain hope? Hope is the comfort of the doomed, a shield against the bitter harshness of inevitability. Can I give this comfort to another? Am I capable of it? Although it feels right, it feels like a lie too. I should not be in this position now. I am still that child deep down, who is cold and alone in the dark. I am still that child who cries out to be given comfort. Yet I am called on to give the comfort I do not possess. It's like being cursed with the knowledge that everything will not end up just fine, that any hope taken would be in vain. I know that life is cruel, and hard, and that we are but shadows and dust on the vast stage of eternity. And that knowledge makes me feel cold. I am not given a blanket of hope. But I keep hoping. Yet I can give one to another. It is a gift one need not possess in order to give. But do I give it? It would be merciful. But it would not be right. For in those last moments, when they come to realize what I have known all along…I become the betrayer, for I will have told a lie. Perhaps it is better to know the bleakness of reality, to be aware of the lack of purpose that we spend our entire lives seeking fruitlessly to find. At least that way we do not waste our lives looking for something that is not there. But, really, what purpose is there in that? Perhaps, then, it is better after all to delude ourselves. To throw the blanket of hope over our eyes. It will keep us blind…but warm. Still, I would not do that. I cannot trade my sight for warmth. Because the truth is, it really is cold. And that blanket can be taken from you at any time. And then it would be even more painful than to never have had it. We have to find our own meaning in this life. There is no grand purpose for us at the end of it all. In the end…we are all just shadows and dust. And we must make the most of what we have, while we can, knowing all along that anything we make will ultimately be torn down. There are those moments…when you get a glimpse of hope, a glimmer of destiny through it all, and it can make you believe for a moment…that just maybe there is something for us here after all. When you behold the glory of a sunset or the vastness of the sea, or the grandeur of the earth from atop a mountain, and you feel like there is some purpose to everything. But can you ever achieve any of those things? Can you achieve a sunset's beauty? Can you touch the skies? Can you put the sea in a bottle or embrace a mountain? We humans are only spectators. And even the earth itself will end no more purposefully than us someday. But still…sometimes the beauty of life is just too much to ignore. Sometimes you just breathe in the air and, knowing fully that someday you will die, those you love will die, and the very earth will someday die, you still find inspiration. You still find warmth. And then you realize not that you had the blanket of hope all along, but that hope is not a blanket to be given or taken. Hope can be embraced at will, as can your destiny. And whatever meaning we find in life, though it lasts not beyond our mortal lives, it is enough.
18 April 2007
16 April 2007
Worth
Even when I've felt completly useless I've never felt worthless.
Sometimes I look at things that I've done and they have turned out so completely wrong I've wondered how I could have possibly thought that they would turn out any other way. Or how I could have been so blind to some other persons motives. But it hasn't made me feel worthless. It has made me aware of a pretty glaring blind spot I have in my relationships with friends and past. But hey, now I know that i have them I just make sure I only offer what I'm prepared to lose, whether it be emotionally or otherwise.
Even when I've felt completly useless I've never felt worthless.
Sometimes I look at things that I've done and they have turned out so completely wrong I've wondered how I could have possibly thought that they would turn out any other way. Or how I could have been so blind to some other persons motives. But it hasn't made me feel worthless. It has made me aware of a pretty glaring blind spot I have in my relationships with friends and past. But hey, now I know that i have them I just make sure I only offer what I'm prepared to lose, whether it be emotionally or otherwise.
05 April 2007
Is the Abuser not initially the Abused?
i was clearing up my junks few days ago when i finally came upon a pile of papers and it must have been hiding in there for more than a decade. Most of it was my thesis and this paper on "Is the Abuser not Initially the Abused?" had caught my eyes leading me to more thoughts about had things, our time, the society's changed since?
i used to hate to write, if i wrote somthing down, i felt it would last a day past forever and that was too long a time for me to bare my soul to such an "unsignificant" piece of paper. i felt i was admitting a truth to myself and the rest of the world, and as we all know the truth burns!
To me writing is like giving "amunition" to my enemy (whoever they may be) to one day stab me in the back with words. only to confirm what i had always felt, that "insignificant" piece of paper comes from an oak tree! so you can imagine my fustration as someone who always has somthing to express! why? i'm always contemplating "life" and it's meaning (is it a deal or no deal? am i the weakest link?) this is boring!
Sometimes i need to write so much that my heart starts to beat like an nigerian talking drum! to me that must mean the words are coming from my heart? thus from this day and forth i will "spill my guts."
we always show the decay of society, community, neighbourhoods through mediums such as news, magazine, radio and in my opinion most emotively through film. we show the ultimate conspiracy theory bad guys; "the government and police", we show the good guys who sometimes nobely do bad things as victims of their circumstances, then we show the DEVIL SPORN, the heartless, cold blooded, "came straight from hell to do some grocery shopping" characters that seem to have no mother or taste in their mouths for that matter.these are the murderers, rapists, drug feens,drug dealers, child molesters, gangsters, alcoholics, domestic abusers and racists that film potrays to audiences provoking hate for the character and everything it stands for.
don't get me wrong i am all for spitting on the bad guy and i have most definalty crafted the fine art of shouting taunts at the t.v screen whilst eating popcorn at the same time. I become fearful when i realise that the characteristics of these "DEVIL SPORN" are what fills this world today. That beggs the question is it deeper than that? i have an answer, one that people would proberly deem too simple; LACK OF SELF LOVE, LACK OF SELF WORTH CREATES THE "DEVILS SPORN"!
movies like, american history x, kidulthood, storm damage and most recent freedom writers show great thought provoking reflections of society's decay over significant life time periods, but the bad guy never changes!
would it change your mind about that bad guy if you knew:
that rapist was repeatedly violently raped as a child and despite the fact that he promised he would never inflict such a pain on another human being, he has become addicted to being the abuser so the victim can feel the pain he feels. it is the only thing that keeps him alive, reminds him of his worthlessness, he feels he deserves to be reminded of it! or when the racist was tormented as a child by other races that brought him near death in racial attacks, such as setting his house on fire, using his head as a football and making him eat dog mess. when they had finished with him his skin was all different types of colours! that child molester has extreme body dismorphic syndrome that stems for being emotionly, physically and sexually abused as a kid by his gymnastic coach and starved by his parents to fufill their dream of him reaching the olympics. aproaching 50, supprisingly he was never an olympic finalst (for some unknown reason)and he has never had a decent intimate relationship ever! everytime he molests a child it "STEALS" a piece of his soul and when his soul is gone he knows there will be nothing left but to take his own life, that time is soon approaching! that the street gangster that everybody fears, suffers from severe depression and cuts him self, most of the "war wounds" on his body are self inflicked. he has nothing to lose because he don't care if he dies, he has seen his whole family die and all of his real friends. he now only has associates who in his eyes are just as expendable as he is. he smokes weed all day and crys himself to sleep at night like a baby, but in many peoples eyes he is the cause of rain. beef? what's beef? a chance for him to prays that someone will put him out of his misery!
so is the abuser not the abused?
is the tormenter not the tormented?
is the killer not dead already?
these are just some senerios that i've watched from movies doing my research while writing my thesis on psychoanalysis to provoke thought, that everything is not how it seems or is portrayed to be (yeah but we all know that!). let's write a screenplay that goes behind the scenes of the bad guys, what brings them to that desperate heartless point? they are human, or arn't they? what is that self loaf they are battling? do we see a little of ourselves in them, as terrible as we think they are?
self hate is a curse a devilsh plot to destroy humanity through the devastating life cycle, one word, action or circumstance can have on a persons interpretation, understanding or growth.
sometimes i feel like we are "MOUTONS" (sheep) following the suggestion of who we are:
"you are ugly..." " wow i must of been slapped with the face like a cow stick 10 times"
"you are nothing..." " i'm a couch potato! bake me!"
to love oneself must be as "impossible"? as diving head first into a sea of flames to find a needle in a billion stinging nettle haystacks!(pritty easy if you think about it!)
kinda glad that i took the time to read it where it got me thinking again how our mind is extremely powerful and one thought can plant a seed for the demise or empowerment of you. so to who this may concern (i thinks its suzy or joe, but my psychic powers are weak today) let me plant a seed in your mind with my words that will hopefully turn into an "OAK TREE" in your life.
i was clearing up my junks few days ago when i finally came upon a pile of papers and it must have been hiding in there for more than a decade. Most of it was my thesis and this paper on "Is the Abuser not Initially the Abused?" had caught my eyes leading me to more thoughts about had things, our time, the society's changed since?
i used to hate to write, if i wrote somthing down, i felt it would last a day past forever and that was too long a time for me to bare my soul to such an "unsignificant" piece of paper. i felt i was admitting a truth to myself and the rest of the world, and as we all know the truth burns!
To me writing is like giving "amunition" to my enemy (whoever they may be) to one day stab me in the back with words. only to confirm what i had always felt, that "insignificant" piece of paper comes from an oak tree! so you can imagine my fustration as someone who always has somthing to express! why? i'm always contemplating "life" and it's meaning (is it a deal or no deal? am i the weakest link?) this is boring!
Sometimes i need to write so much that my heart starts to beat like an nigerian talking drum! to me that must mean the words are coming from my heart? thus from this day and forth i will "spill my guts."
we always show the decay of society, community, neighbourhoods through mediums such as news, magazine, radio and in my opinion most emotively through film. we show the ultimate conspiracy theory bad guys; "the government and police", we show the good guys who sometimes nobely do bad things as victims of their circumstances, then we show the DEVIL SPORN, the heartless, cold blooded, "came straight from hell to do some grocery shopping" characters that seem to have no mother or taste in their mouths for that matter.these are the murderers, rapists, drug feens,drug dealers, child molesters, gangsters, alcoholics, domestic abusers and racists that film potrays to audiences provoking hate for the character and everything it stands for.
don't get me wrong i am all for spitting on the bad guy and i have most definalty crafted the fine art of shouting taunts at the t.v screen whilst eating popcorn at the same time. I become fearful when i realise that the characteristics of these "DEVIL SPORN" are what fills this world today. That beggs the question is it deeper than that? i have an answer, one that people would proberly deem too simple; LACK OF SELF LOVE, LACK OF SELF WORTH CREATES THE "DEVILS SPORN"!
movies like, american history x, kidulthood, storm damage and most recent freedom writers show great thought provoking reflections of society's decay over significant life time periods, but the bad guy never changes!
would it change your mind about that bad guy if you knew:
that rapist was repeatedly violently raped as a child and despite the fact that he promised he would never inflict such a pain on another human being, he has become addicted to being the abuser so the victim can feel the pain he feels. it is the only thing that keeps him alive, reminds him of his worthlessness, he feels he deserves to be reminded of it! or when the racist was tormented as a child by other races that brought him near death in racial attacks, such as setting his house on fire, using his head as a football and making him eat dog mess. when they had finished with him his skin was all different types of colours! that child molester has extreme body dismorphic syndrome that stems for being emotionly, physically and sexually abused as a kid by his gymnastic coach and starved by his parents to fufill their dream of him reaching the olympics. aproaching 50, supprisingly he was never an olympic finalst (for some unknown reason)and he has never had a decent intimate relationship ever! everytime he molests a child it "STEALS" a piece of his soul and when his soul is gone he knows there will be nothing left but to take his own life, that time is soon approaching! that the street gangster that everybody fears, suffers from severe depression and cuts him self, most of the "war wounds" on his body are self inflicked. he has nothing to lose because he don't care if he dies, he has seen his whole family die and all of his real friends. he now only has associates who in his eyes are just as expendable as he is. he smokes weed all day and crys himself to sleep at night like a baby, but in many peoples eyes he is the cause of rain. beef? what's beef? a chance for him to prays that someone will put him out of his misery!
so is the abuser not the abused?
is the tormenter not the tormented?
is the killer not dead already?
these are just some senerios that i've watched from movies doing my research while writing my thesis on psychoanalysis to provoke thought, that everything is not how it seems or is portrayed to be (yeah but we all know that!). let's write a screenplay that goes behind the scenes of the bad guys, what brings them to that desperate heartless point? they are human, or arn't they? what is that self loaf they are battling? do we see a little of ourselves in them, as terrible as we think they are?
self hate is a curse a devilsh plot to destroy humanity through the devastating life cycle, one word, action or circumstance can have on a persons interpretation, understanding or growth.
sometimes i feel like we are "MOUTONS" (sheep) following the suggestion of who we are:
"you are ugly..." " wow i must of been slapped with the face like a cow stick 10 times"
"you are nothing..." " i'm a couch potato! bake me!"
to love oneself must be as "impossible"? as diving head first into a sea of flames to find a needle in a billion stinging nettle haystacks!(pritty easy if you think about it!)
kinda glad that i took the time to read it where it got me thinking again how our mind is extremely powerful and one thought can plant a seed for the demise or empowerment of you. so to who this may concern (i thinks its suzy or joe, but my psychic powers are weak today) let me plant a seed in your mind with my words that will hopefully turn into an "OAK TREE" in your life.
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