Breaking the useless secret

If someone was to climb on that roof, fragile tinkling tiles all covered with moss, at thirty feet from the ground, watch carefully that special spot on the ridge, he could discover the remains of a meal, tiny pieces of nutshell, bread crumbles, the juice from berries or a fat worm, on that one special spot a shy bird brought his catch to eat it fast, with fervor, spying right and left for any danger, or meal snatcher, ten seconds in front of my window i've watched at that exact moment to pick up the short scene, and had that thought, the secret of that bird probably won't be discovered, what gain there is, except i was there and now i'm selling the truth.

For them

Constantly.

I don't know how to Love.

Sometimes.

I don't know how to Lie.


Already two reasons why i shouldn't be close to anyone.

Warp rider

Dusk, when the sky is a glittery dark blue, fringed to a deep purple, earth takes on an aura of faint white light, and the sun is a disapearing fire on the horizon.

A slight coldness seizes you, on your bike, at full speed down the streets, the wind makes you cry, and millions of lights dazzle you.

You can have an inquisitive sight on people's evening lives, through bright windows coming out of the falling night.

Slouched in their sofas in front of their enormous tv set, surrounded by random and most useless stuff to create the atmosphere they prefer to relax.

In their tiny kitchens, watching carefully a pot on the gas stove.

A bedroom, on the first floor, with every wall patched with football players posters, quite messy and oppressive, obsessional.

The monuments look bigger, with more edge, cutting through the air on a threatening stance, it's old and raspy, rusty chains and rings you want to touch, carving of faces or scenes from the past, deformed.

The modern style glassy and slick next to scaled façades with wobbly wooden shutters, the first one is mainly three, four floors residences with lighted stakes along the alleys leading into the place, the second still made of tiles on the roof and display small tidy gardens over the porches, people recreate the inside of their mind with bushes, strands of grass and figurines.

You'll cross the web of the train tracks countless times, deeper you go in the suburb, a bell and flickering poles will warn you to stop and stare, if you're crafty, and quick, you can slither down the ditch and carry your bike across to keep your momentum.

Maybe you'll enjoy too the fancy lighting of stores and restaurants along the biggest roads, changing colored lights, expensive and useless, trying to create a cosy, attractive mood, but you're only passing, fast, you can't pause, you need to ride, getting ecstatic over the different places.

The busy malls still open with their indecent neon letters, promising to satisfy all your needs, the alabaster on the churches vicinity, mirroring and shiny, it's so good to ride in silence on it, watched by the imposing godly structures.

Every house presents a peculiar color, and when you see a black one you are stunned, like you found the dark dwelling of count Dracula, so unusual, the materials are giving the expressions, and the many forms, crooked or stiff, will make you wonder, if some people are aware they are living on a bridge, with air right below the thin floor of their living room.

You'll find incredible some fumes have a taste of pistachio, and some families use a washing powder so potent that around their houses soap fills the air.

Animals are crossing your way, swiftly, with their bellies grazing the tarmac, perched on a fence, they turn back and watch straight at you, a glare in their opalescent eyes, ready to escape if the idea to stroke them and approach rises in you, so you stare back and continue, smiling wildly.

The night is busy, you stop, you climb sidewalks with a push on your legs, you're attentive for sudden walkers barging off gates and paths, how many street signs you ignore, how many one-way streets you wrongly descended or climbed, that's freedom at the possible cost of your life, you're just a warp rider, alone in those perceptions and so many more, and no one cares.

Long Road

We often say that children are born to fix the psychic wounds of parents, "give me the burden i'll mend it for you", too bad there will be no descendants, to pass on that hard acquired knowledge, to bring my mom that joy she seeks that way, like a lot of people do too, because the logical conclusion is that people make children by fear of loneliness and lack of love, humans can't stand to be alone with their thoughts, their rough cogitations, tyranizing them incessantly, if in the end i solve the pain my mother gave me, and that's the route i'm taking, i will be self sufficient, that will mean being fine to be all alone with nothingness, in complete control of the tempestuous vastness of the mind, getting rid of the dependencies, that is obliterating taking steps on love and others, on icons and looks, getting rid of forms and appearances, ideas and concepts, getting rid of my own thoughts and longings for anything, it's almost like turning into a stone, unchangeable, imperturbable, unaffected, immortal.
All that my mom wished and desperately craved for, (hence the three kids, the blind faithfullness to a bitter husband, and the taste for simplicity of pleasures and objects), i have to overcome it and erase it all of my life, for that only goal to find the sheer happiness to be one with the self.

One may ask, is that worthwhile... is that final emotion worth to forget everything and strip, strip of all, except the perfect unity of one absolute Being.

(this is for "pwetry" only because i know if i become strong and assured enough in myself, then I become the User)

shit motherfucking dicked cunt

The shit from a top model doesn't smell nicer than the shit from a tramp, and that's an absolute fact for now, when mankind would have created an over expensive substance which the intake will allow to perfume our excrement, rich people would be able to choose mint, fruity or woody, to superficially feel better about themselves and superior to others.
Until then people seem to forget it, even worse, they don't want to know about it, about our true nature as animals, instead of accepting themselves, all obssessed by the appearances they are, because their thoughts control them and when they picture themselves associated with the image of a smoking turd they become shaky and uncomfortable, their self image takes a hit in their mind, they can't get rid of it and lose self confidence.

Here's a writing to punch every shallow fellow in the jaw, Bazingaaaaa!



(Honestly i hope mankind won't fall so low.... )

Someone prevented me to speak about that in presence of a lady the other day, but i felt to write it here.

Pathological ego

Someone under the control of the ego can't recognize pain as just pain, but will see it as the only fitting reaction to every situation. In its blindness the ego is unable to see the pain inflicted to the self and to others.

...

The negative states like anger, anxiety, resentment, dissatisfaction, envy, jealousy, etc..., aren't recognized as negative but like utterly justified. Moreover it is wrongly perceived as coming not from oneself, but as caused by others or by any other external factors.
"You are responsible for my suffering." It's what the ego says implicitly.
The ego can't make the difference between a situation and the interpretation that we make about it or the reaction triggered in us. So you will say : "What an awful day." without realizing that the cold, the wind, the rain, the heat, or snow, to which your are reacting, aren't awful. It is what it is. What is awful, it's your reaction, your inner resistance to it and the emotion born from that resistance.

Shakespear wrote : "There is nothing good or bad as such. It's the mind who makes it good or bad."

Also, suffering and negativity are often wrongly perceived as pleasure by the ego because, to a certain level, the ego gets strenght out of it.
For example, anger and resentment hugely reinforce the ego by intensifying a sentiment of division, putting emphasis on the difference and by creating a mental position of rectitude as colossal as a fortress that no one can attack (any irrational fear, negative thought, creates a mental protection like this, when we irrationally feel attacked). If you could observe the physiological changes happening in your body when you are possessed by such negative states, if you could see how much those states affect the functioning of your heart, your digestive system, your immune system, and many body functions, it will be clear for you that such states are pathological, that it is suffering, and not pleasure.

Each time that you are in a negative state, something in you asks for negativity, something in you perceives it as pleasant or thinks that it will allow you to get what you want. Or else, why holding on negativity, make yourself unhappy, make others unhappy and create illness in your body. So, each time that there is negativity in you and that you succeed at recognizing that something in you takes pleasure out of it or thinks it has a reason to be useful, you directly become conscious of the ego. As soon as this happens, your identity goes from the ego to consciousness. This means that the ego diminishes and that consciousness grows.

If in a negativity crisis, you succeed in realizing that : "In that moment, i am creating my own suffering". this will suffice to rise above state and reactions of the ego. This will bing you to infinite possibilities, to different ways, more intelligent, to deal with any given situation. You will be free to give up your unhappiness as soon as you'll recognize it as non-intelligent. Negativity is non-intelligent and always comes from the ego. The ego may be crafty, but it's not intelligent. Ruse (as trickery) chases its own little goals, while intelligence has a complete view where all is linked. Ruse is motivated by personal interest and is greatly limited. Most of politicians, businessmen, are carfty. Very few are intelligent. All that is accomplished by ruse doesn't last long and always goes, at one point, on the opposite of the wanted goal. Ruse divides, while cleverness unifies.

Eckhart Tolle - New Earth

(translated roughly from my french book in the cold of my room, in two times after my computer crashed,  i had to copy half of it in my note book before reseting, it was tedious, my hands are stung, still satisfied of that great insight over the mysteries of mankind, it's time to eat, Yum!)

Hiting to go forward

 - "Even the most beautiful girl on earth, a universal beauty, won't please to everybody." he says to his depressed and lonely friend.

 - "Yeah, i know... ", apathetic.

 - "No you don't know, like most, you hear the concept and it seems coherent to you, but you don't understand it."

 - "... ", slightly disconcerted and crestfallen.

 - "We must understand WHY it is like that. It's the same with many concepts which seem logical to the majority of humans, but very few achieve the inner illumination, the genuine comprehension and integration by the Being of the intimate meaning about a fact, psychological, philosophical, even as logical as it is."

The Grin of decomposition

I want to hold you in my arms, encompassing your thin body like a vine around a noble pillar, and squeeze tight, trying to melt into you, to prison you, to make you feel weak, then finally... forgive your fears, so that you stop smiling, stop smiling.

I kill myself so that you can start living. If you can watch true love without smiling that means you found that strenght which belongs only to you.

(this is only a writing*, a painted veil made to lure people into emotions)

The loathed joy

"It snowed this night,
coming back from some walking adventures in the cold,
and passing by a bunch of young people throwing snowballs at each others in the street,
one of the projectiles whizzed in front,
cutting the path and almost hit the chest,
a girl turned her head in bewilderment like some thunderous accident could fall on them because of this childish game,
the stranger saying "Almost!",
as in "That one almost hit!",
and smiling frankly face to face,
the girl still looked scared,
trying to get the meaning of that word,
expecting an adult to denounce their behavior,
they heard so many times that being excentric and seemingly happy in public is improper,
a lack of decency,
kids are taught to be affraid about letting their joy surge ostentatiously,
she didn't understand why the word spoken was playful,
and lacking condemnation,
adults must be strict and straight in her mind,
but a snowball never killed anyone,
that one wasn't thrown to hurt or by malice,
snow flakes on a coat isn't dangerous,
and there's no need to get angry at such an harmless act,
humans are conditionned to be serious and feel personally attacked by any unconventional events happening to them, [pigeon shit on their shoulder],
even and that's the worst,
by the excentric beams of joy;
The little girl was confused by that magnanimous reaction,
but consciousness will rise and will show kids and adults that negative feelings are useless,
and it's more gratifying to play cheerfully,
to stay open for that joy we all need to share."

 - There are so many stories and reflections that you won't hear, because it goes through me in an instant, i give it a meaning and it lets its mark in my memory; we meet and it re-surfaces from the depth of my being, we talk and laugh about it, and joy [and benevolent consciousness] is carried on. -

Eternal Equilibrium

I love a girl who can be whole with me, completely, perfectly sincere, giving all in the security of her free will, i want to hear your mind, i lust for your body, if i ask for that it's because that's what i can give, naturally by letting myself be, and so an eternal balance is created.

To make me cry

People cry over a cliché, that's too obvious, limed in the universally accepted good Moral, sure he lost his son and his wife, and he himself is dying now, but what really touches me, shakes me cruely, are the little words spoken to hurt, the gestures of rejection from the daily life which prove how much we are negligent about each others for the reason we are frail about "what is me", it's criticizing, it's killing for self reassurance, ease an irrational fear turning us into fools, and no one notices that absurdity, because it's part of the system, part of human relations, an unconscious flaw.

Stuff my mouth with paper and blood

The main problem of humanity is identification, to form, to images, to icons, to others, to lovers, to concepts and rules, to dogmas. There's a peaceful way to be out of this where each is the benevolent presence in his own perception. But not everyone is ready to understand it yet. That will come, slowly, or humanity will choke.