I lay out there drifting weightlessly somewhere in empty space surrounded by the darkness of the universe Floating on nothing Lost in nothing I and my thoughts Unimaginably alone, — solely Unsad, content, clueless Too distant even to the nearest star Immersed in timelessness About 1:53 am in the feel The past an ashen memory No smoldering feelings I see my future winding through an echoing passage tiled with absorbing pictures turned into movies They distract consistently I am confronted with a view at the end A lookout point into future space, unlike anything I could ever conceive Visible is an indeterminately gigantic, colorful, spoked wheel of dimensions At the hub, where all dimensions meet: the bright center of fertility The source of anything, known also as nothing Close together here unfathomably far apart further out It is all so clear now: In order to keep on floating, I must stay lost and I must stay in a state of not-knowingness That is pure freedom, unbound from existence My only way back to source From this virgin source of nothing I can follow any spoke leading to any dimension Each dimension is another universe Probably entirely unimaginable from our reality As I engage thus I become un-lost in my new knowingness Now I am bound again I don't drift towards a new future I am the new future ...soon to become the newest past and be lost and clueless once more Drifting, floating, clueless, lost in nothing Towards a new future
Pastel on cardboard created by Norwegian Expressionist artist Edvard Munch 1895: was sold for nearly US$120 million, at Sotheby’s, in 2012.
I wail and scream. I howl
I bleed and I implore
Desperate cries distort my lips
Torn into a grimace
fearful open the visage
Clueless and lost I am
Anguish is upon my soul
Dark wrinkles now remain
where tears in streams
once hoped in vain
A devilish nightmare
horrible and mean,
from inside my ulcerating stomach
and my flailing heart,
forced its shadow onto my scene
Warning me, ‘beware’
A thousand cellars deep in agony,
dank with acid, bile, and irony
I bang my head and bite my nails
My soul from sorrow is impaled
and my spirit poison has inhaled
wishing for the comfort in the grave
Eyes in white rage ajar
now burned out,
once upon a time two sunny stars
My fists are clenched,
spiked with ragged bony hands
stabbing aimlessly at burned out plans
I once knew another side of this fence
helpless windmills are my arms
Harsh and vile the words accusingly escape
Hear me whoever and whatever you may be:
You are fearsome, belligerent, debilitating,
uncompromising, ruthless and emetic
I am on a vertex uncontrollably forlorn
Sickeningly, rhymeless, unpoetic
Pushed too far, beyond repair I’m harmed
Disappointed, disillusioned, hurting bad
Events heaped upon me that made me crying sad
Life’s definition –
amongst buried papers, dogmas, egos
and coated in red tape:
An endless suffering caravan of greed and hate
Controlled by law enforced by society
I scream some more
It is too late
Piety, sobriety, and deity, notorious dubiety
I scream again, I scream
I tell the universe I’m sore
Sick of all the hell, right to the core
Liberate me, bring about a change
Never will I accept some fate
Turnaround my life
I still believe it can be done somehow
But scream I must
Before I settle into dust
and blow away,
Scream, scream, scream in pain
I couldn’t sleep for thoughts of you Morning, feelings, cold and dew Everything was just so fine Clueless, lost that was my crime Nothing in my dark lit up Thoughts of you kept coming but the loneliness kept holding tight This opponent was my lifelong fight Seldom happiness would have a say All the vivid colors turned to gray Forsaken in my ice age day by day A cul-de-sac, a dead end stop I would rant and rave until I dropped Nothing changed, it wasn’t meant to be Even my dreams and wishes couldn’t set me free Some force was negating, maliciously intent a life of accomplishment and content I bargained till my beard turned white the other one just laughed at this my plight You could have cashed your soul for fun and lived a life of sin and some he even mentioned that my soul was worth a bit he’d talk to Karma even Hades could be skipped Then he left for he had other things to do I should call him if I'd feel I’m through In between he came around telling me I wasn’t sound I should think about a deal Rap it up and put a seal What’s the point when nothing works and your days are filled with hurt Life’s too short to live in pain All agree that is a shame and there’s no one here to blame But who was he who tempted so What energy did make him grow I made him up that much I know therefore why can’t I let him go Worry, fear, and disillusionment helped in his establishment Sunshine, love, and laughter will destroy his term as master To beat him at his game and bring happiness again my entire life I searched for you questioning exhausted if you could be true often clueless, lost, I lived through years of rue and spent much time talking to the stars with tears hoping that someone might open up their ears My angels came a running, just before it was too late They called the wind to blow a storm and change my fate You greeted me and we knew before a word was spoken that we had scars from many places we were broken Even now I do recall the times alone when my thoughts run away from home and I dig in places dark and drown forgetting all the joy you've brought and everything I ever sought There was no crime and no disorder Clueless, lost, I crossed the border Deep I sank into some feelings fleeing from my heart and being till you came along and stroked me with your song Finally, my life is mine to shine There never was a crime.
A ginger cat called Flash slinks through my garden regularly ignoring me as if I am vapour.
It’s four in the morning and I sit at my desk and thinks.
The streetlamp across the road is in a forty-five second on/off cycle.
Suddenly, poof, I have found an answer.
The answer is the SUN.
However, all the other questions I have, sadly, remain stubbornly unanswered. Two things generally happen to me: Either I am flooded with opinions or drowned in silence.
Instead, I really want to be surrounded by clarity and then engage with resolve.
I think that if I separate myself into an infinite number of parts it should be easier to become part of the whole, go with the flow and emerge with the answers.
To do that I cease thinking. Now I am not. The ‘I’ becomes an ‘It’ without an ego attached or a particular outcome expected.
I realise quickly that if this was the way it should be I would be a brainless grain of sand on a beach or a rock. After all, I am only one in a few billion not a googol gazillion. I’m special. Although…from a uni/multiversal point of view I’m so small making out I’m such a big deal, and in competition to the dumb universe, that my brain blows a fuse every time I try comprehending just a bit of this magnitude.
I start thinking again and I decide to ignore stuff like the Brexit.
I always wanted to live on an island and I trusted the wisdom of age to make visionary decisions and not create a dystopia. I just revised that.
Some things are so stupid they stick out like a grumbly square wheel with a puncture.
Democracy: a 49% – 51% guillotine; a really worn out flat tire and no wizzkid, political scientist or other boff rewriting that dusty, outdated bible. Ouch!
I still want to live on an island, but not that one.
I wonder what the sun thinks every day?
Just warm them up and give them life, they’ll come right some time.
Clearly, when you come from a sunny (dis)position, you can make better decisions. You gotta blame it on the weather. It would drive anyone bonkers and vote ‘Exit.’
And, in hindsight, to decide matters of such profound importance and far-reaching consequences during or after a full moon, when the sun is past the solstice and in pouring rain, shows a disconnectedness and ignorance, dare I say arrogance, towards all of nature’s powerful forces.
Now what? Another illusion? More reality?
Nothing, clueless, lost?
Hop on board.