Blur

What should i write, is it right?

Is it wrong? Yeah it may, it might.

As long as no one's around,

I have an easy way out,

I can turn my face, or put it down,

Behead myself, join a mirror to frown.

Yeah i frown, my eyes want that,

There's a hidden darkness around.

It screams aloud, GET ME OUT!

Till darkness, its already out.

There is fun in the enemy,

There's boredom in a friend,

Myth of a happy ending,

Your end is your end, that's an END!

#TheImmaculateArt

I

The soul’s discovery of its own inwardness is constitutive of the soul itself. Not that we can say this intimacy straightaway has an individual character and consequently allows me immediately to determine this soul as mine. For the discovery of subjectivity precedes, we might say, the discovery of my own subjectivity. In reality the latter is an experience which is not primitive and instantaneous but constantly goes on and deepens throughout my entire life:

 I have never come to the end of distinguishing between the absolute subjectivity and this imperfect subjectivity through which I say “me” by contrasting myself with other beings who also say “me” and are present within the absolute subjectivity like me and with me. Yet the relation of each subjectivity to the pure subjectivity, or to another subjectivity, cannot be reduced to the inside or outside relationship: it goes beyond it.

 I become more interior to the interiority of being in the measure that I become more interior to myself again: and the mutual exteriority of two particular beings decreases accordingly. This exteriority is explained by the presence of the body: we know that the I is always linked to the body as to its limits and that these limits are variable since the I is never completely slave to its body but then again never completely its master.

TO WHOM THIS MAY CONCERN

This is about all those times, when you are stuck up with something that you can't shake off. Like being in a traffic jam, all the honking and nothing good on the radio; you can change on and on but there isn't anything that match your frequency. Like those odd songs that you listened in elevator or on a by-passing stereo; you don't even know why but you keep humming that cheep, dumb tune over and over again. Those songs, they are not even clever. What has happened to music?

They say, "Your music defines you, it stays in your ipod, in your play list, in the mix tapes that you used to make as a kid. You don’t choose your music; your music chooses you." music connects people; that there are more like you, it give you the feeling that those words were written for/ by you. Not just music but art as in whole is a representation of the generation in which it was created. It was one of the many reasons why art was created in the first place. and when I hear that song as it comes out of the stereo; the lines is about a guy who drinks every day and that’s his work for the week, no one stops him, no one objects his, and so on.

The singer wanted to be popular so he composed it as a party number. If art is a representation of the generation then what the fuck is our generation producing? Shit, that's what it is. I don't think my generation is a drunk and bad mouth to women. I see them working hard and enjoying what they have earned. They are party animals, adventurers, free thinkers not a drunk or a feint.

It’s never about what you create; what matters is how you created it. Something that would connect; a child, teen, adult, old as the same. Same goes for our movies as well.

Anything that we absorb becomes energy. All the art we absorb becomes food for brain a.k.a. thoughts. When I will absorb mediocre then my thoughts will become mediocre. Don’t listen to them; they are money minded blood suckers. Like, there are 3 big super stars and each one has there own "humanitarian n.g.o’s". why can't make at least one film for free in which they all can work; it would be magic to see them in one screen working in each others movies, undermine who is in the lead. And what amount that will come out will be donated to struggling actors or what ever they may choose. But they won't do that.

They make a movie on a budget of 10 cores and the film will earn 200 cores. And they will keep making all those crappy movies. Sure once in a while leave you head at home but it’s not wise to leave it at home all the time.

Some one once said,” if something is bothering you, then change it, because no one else is going to come to change it for you". I guess I am going to stick by that.

p.s. just thinking out loud.



#music #art #freedom #change

DAD

where did you go; i miss you so,

know that i am still right here,

and i wont go anywhere,

i wont leave ; the way you went,

all my life i have lived in a tent, 

in my heart you made a dent.

you went up high; like a diamond in the sky,

so now i cry,

when i look at the moon,

and no one says to me be home soon,

too soon you went away; left me feeling like a stray,

i was your only son; my life just had begun,

when some one found you; lying dead next to a bb gun.

if could; i would scream,

the same way i do in my dream,

and if i could; i would say,

please dad; throw your needle away,

but you are long gone,

like an old song,

and life goes on with or without you.

you are just a picture on the wall,

i got nothing to recall,

no memory that would connect me to you,

did you had a clue; that your son will grew,

and become just like you,

but i wont.

where did you go; i miss you so,

know that i am still right here,

and i wont go anywhere,

so what i could never call you papa bear,

i know in your heart you always cared,

and it's not my burden to bear,

when i think of you; i know your still right here.

#dad #poem 

INSANITY

They call me mad 
but they don't know,
it was this insanity
that derived my breath,

As a dead can never be blamed
for his bitterness and sweetness,
normal and sanity can always
be loathed upon, Tasteless moods would
always crawl out
& wake me back to brutalities,

Even though I am casted out
survival will never be the goal,
still people piss it all around me;
they don't even clean up afterwards,

I was alone, when
The walls beside, cracked out
some neighbor noise,
& the man screamed
KILL ME!! KILL ME!!
OH JUST KILL ME!!

A gun shot echoed
out hard, and pinched my lefty
to a silent beep,

After a while the beep voice stopped
& it was dinner time.

THE CRAZY LUST

She called me crazy,
She called me a fool,
Pissing on the poor in a rainy drool
And I collect the broken pieces of my sainthood,

Realizing that the eternity had left me for dead
and now the pain roars out my chest,

I feel my soul resisting,suffocating and burning,
as I curse the quake struck by her words,
Leaving my dignity to be a false in this existence,

I blame my self for my actions, but the lust refuses
to be called a quitter.

SHE ONCE BELIEVED

She once believed
that the habits that lied 
Within him in tiers,
were his imprisoned hunger bringing 
their claims, 
so she locked them away in chains,

She once believed
That she had loved an angry man
Who always had his temper as if
he was a demon with a cane,
Who cried in the in the winter rains
And smiled looking at a clown
get insane,

Now she Believes this is all
just an abyss
the lust inside him is always up-heaving out
and she doesn't want him to kiss,

He rolls up his sleeves
& punches his fist through the wall,
Breaking all her chains of belief
releasing the animals from the fall,
abusing her
again and again
loud in the hall.