Let us stick to our roots,
embrace our dismal pasts.
let us pretend that we,
as humans are advancing.
Let us herald our old heroes
and rejoice in their transience.
Let us never ever question,
why it is that we ARE HERE today.
My dear readers,
Very often I find myself in the company of people who follow archaic beliefs and practice archaic practices. They do not stop and think about the utility this practice produces or the effect or impact it has on different people. No, they insists of practicing these methods and imposing it on people regardless of circumstance. Let me give you a small example.
Many people sleep late and wake up late. Is this a bad habit? It is if you’re doing nothing productive all day – and night. It is not, if you work best at night, regardless of what early to bed nutcrackers will tell you.
I have nothing against you imbeciles who wake up early in the morning, having slept for at least ten hours, given that most early risers I know sleep at 10pm. But I do have a problem with those who look down with disdain at my poor shell of a body which has received rest for only around 4 hours, having slept at 6am, due to the amount of disturbance and nagging it receives from those who think that waking up at 10am is a sin worthy of perdition.
It does not matter if they’ve done less, in a day, than what my pour lifeless body has done 1 hour in those wee hours of the cold winter morning. Nope. All that matters is propriety.
Well to hell with all those useless propriety and etiquette and all those nonsensical practices which prove to be useless.
Please, I beg, as the Beatles once sang, leave me be for “I’m only sleeping.”
Blow blow softly at the glass,
watch the blurry blurry world.
Draw the image of your mind,
And smile as your favourite song comes on.
Watch the mist slowly fade,
Talk soft things to yourself,
Wipe away the tinted glass,
And cry as you stare at wrinkled hands.
Flames lap up my clothes.
Flames burn my scorching skin.
Flames weave their arms around me.
Flames coax out a voice buried in disapproval,
Flames draw my fate and signal the draw of the curtain.
Flames eat me from the outside while my soul dies from the inside.
Flames speak to me silently as the world stares on aghast at my dance.
When my eyes shut, the world shall light up in flickers and when I’m gone, so will my flames.
The lonely march to Jerusalem,
The empty boxes of nothingness.
Prisoners of fate, all march on quietly.
All around, the music calls,
Tells all of the riches that lies in wait.
The hollow eyes, the gleaming eyes,
Shined with a polish of hope,
Forever to march till dust do they turn
In hope for a paradise they’ve spurned.
The beautiful words, of beautiful humans,
Which enchant and beguile the masses.
The promises of endless joy,
The words that none have ever seen.
But still they’ll march undeterred,
Not fooled by the lack of something more,
We have our books, just as you do,
And we cannot…we cannot…
The night seems far away from me tonight. I sit here alone with nothing but the ticking of the clock to keep me company and I cannot help but think, that the night seems far away from me tonight. The curtains are drawn and the lights are switched on, I want to give away to a sweet soft slumber, but my eyes remain stubbornly open and my mind refuses to feel the narcoleptic urges of a night embracing human. I stare at the portraits around me and I’m constantly interrupted by the sudden snores of my friend’s grandfather who is asleep soundly in the other room, and I envy him.
My young heart still beats freshly, my young mind at odds with the thought of doing anything educational or aiding in recuperation. I hear the dogs bark outside energetically and I wonder why I am awake to hear them bark so. There is no mystery to a mind that refuses to sleep at times, but it introduces into my tired self the recognition of the distant comfort of the night and my yearning for it.
I long to close my eyes and sleep. Not forever, no. At this point I am startled by the sudden cuckoo of the clock, that old friend of all we punctual humans. Ah yes, I long to sleep. But not forever no, in fact I feel a terror every night that slowly becomes more familiar with each passing night that perhaps my time on earth could end with the close of those eyelids of mine. Not an amplified fear no, but a rational fear, and so I wake up the next day, comforted by my existence in a world that does not seem interested in offering me answers unless I go looking for them. But oh, I only said offer didn’t I? There’s no guarantee that you could ever find your answers.
In my solitude I write of the night that seems distant even though it is all around me and moving on as I speak. We’ve called it night haven’t we? The time when the sun sets and we close our weary eyes to sleep. Indeed, tonight when even the night has sought to abandon me, I shall lie on my bed and wonder about things that are shallow and nonsensical, and I shall close my eyes and embrace the dawn, only to wake up with a tired body.
Let’s save the good words for the strong,
Let’s reserve the encouragement for the weak.
May the tide be with the competent,
And let luck glance upon the struggling.
Today we unite once again as we always will,
To make pretend and rejoice for the equality of humanity.
May the crippled man run with the fit,
May the mute debate with the politician.
Oh yes indeed, let us all rejoice,
At how very equal mankind is.
For surely we are equal?
Our sanity has been approved and the stamp
of many a dozen, reputed, medical institutes grace it.
If there is confusion amongst the peoples,
A simple query is posed,
“If what is spoken of seems so blatantly unequal,
and if humanity is so very sane and kind,
how could such a system still exist?
For wouldn’t the warrior that the common man is,
rise up to fight against such inequality?”
The very existence of such a system,
in an age filled with such civil people,
Is proof of its legitimacy.
And so it is said,
Let the voices of the few who dissent,
be stifled down and silenced!
The world, our world, does not need their equality,
Their equity! We are complete as we are now.
Indeed, let us break bread with the insane,
and laugh knowledgeably at his words.