nothing is there
nothing is illusion
illusions are illusions
back to nothing
nothing is there
nothing is illusion
illusions are illusions
back to nothing
I lost a place to stand on.
Imbalanced like a halm.
Tortured maiming beliefs threaten.
Diplomacy became truth.
Senseless conspiracies,
honesty like putty,
rule by force,
power-rush toxicity,
deities of greed and gain,
observed by AI,
judged by the blind,
sentenced by all,
executed by myself,
…
falling
towards nothing
clueless and lost
A day…
like watered down milk…
– indifferently choreographed between white and grey
– tasting like soup with too much thickener and too little salt scooped from a burned pot
– conducted by a metronome seesaw clock stuck on one hour for half the day,
and then suddenly nothing happens, again, and it’s evening
A day…
of night aeons and darkness’s conquests and shadowy ghosts infesting my mind
– preserving its light in a heart-locket necklace in memoriam
– where Nothing sticks like clueless glitter lost on my forehead
– when angels were sought and found only in thought but never caught
– of skulls and crossbones destabilising sanity with orchestral irrationality
A day…
of X-rays beaming through my skeleton ignoring my transient flesh in their own celebration of reflection…
– where demons dismember my heart and grill the tendrils of my feelings
– of ego-tripping maniacs grinding me to dust with their mortar and pestle rhetoric
– when my ashes become the spice of the devil’s lust,
– when ‘burn his soul’ is chanted by the karmic choir at the tortured gates of reincarnation,
and the cosmic eraser is bigger than any of my dreams
A day where…
Angst is the fire and defiance the air…
– blood is the drug knocked back with a double shot of death
– the soil that I stand on cries louder than hell pronged on a pitchfork
– I am misplaced like a bee on the sea
– I am like a butterfly squashed in the cooler grill of an abandoned racing car
A day…
that none of us asked to be part of…
because it perforates and slices with its shrapnel,
it blinds and dumbs the mind with chaos,
it breaks every ethic and moral and belief,
fatally demanding life and remuneration through recurring vengeance,
this day of the feasting vultures of dismay
Cloudman why are you waving at me?
Is there something I don’t see?
I am nothing
I am clueless
I am lost
No cheque in the post
Fruitless attempts to summit my life, oh yes
Contempt with insanity’s grin
Decades have rolled on
Overgrown now the paths I once ventured
Blinded and stuck on some, — far too long
Sometimes it really feels that I’m done
Now, time is called the ‘aftermath’
That little left should be made to last
Create the antecedent of tomorrow
Leave out today’s horror,
relegate that to the past
Nothing: is all that matters
Clueless: the more the better
Lost: is the prize not the cost
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
As if something touches me, it's how I feel There's nothing I can see – A week ago my life aligned, I penetrated a wish of mine A willful effort gave it life carved from my dreams to rise Perfumed like rainbow candy is the air, my nostrils seek the whispering wind Like spumy foam of rose and honey my thinking thinks – Effervescent, present ever this affair My spirit lifts and floats away, unconfined this day On the brink of real and magic my mind dwells, fluttering its wings to a broomstick's spell Passion-power, imagination, mojo fuelled with elation, fondness for the sky, I am on the fly! The wheel then turned Today-o'clock is present time Loud rings my chime again proclaiming: another wish affirmed Today is real as true as now, the pain I feel, and what I miss and what I see and consciously allow This very wakeful moment a torch into my memory shines Archive of the past, like an empty bottle reminding me of wine Sweet though it was, bubbly and alive, that flight has landed, – now I drive Part of this moment in the future rests, inspired by the past It visualized and learned Towards the light it yearns, then takes to flight once more, leading to my heaven's door T'is not the last time that I'm flying higher than the stars Climbing, reaching further and afar Sending rhyme and prayer to the lofty shrine When I'm flying, paradise is mine Something touches me, it's what I feel There's something I can see – I think I'll make it real