Nothing happened today
and everything happened too
These days and nights have
become habitual
Feet falling into the ground
Standing in a comatose-like
zen posture, I blink
People mistake it for meditating
But nobody bothers to ask
and I offer no information
People make their own stories
they feel smart in their thinking
When they open their throat
and speak
stupidity dribbles from their mouth
like babes feeding off
breast, back and butterfly
They swarm in your thought
and condemn you for it too
You want to lik...
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Welcome to my blog... pants are optional
I think I was born in an act of defiance.
If I can't drink coffee, read books, do my art and have my own space, I will scream.
I am addicted to my iMac.
I believe in Buddha and his teachings, I find him fascinating, as I do with God, but God hasn't spoken to me in years and I'm trying to pass the olive branch...
My poetry is my own. I like it and that's all that matters.
My novel will never be finished, because I don't have a plot.
I seek to throw off all constraints and come to know myself through insight. But with transcendence comes much emphasis on perfecting oneself. So if I could transcend without perfection, I can still allow myself to be helplessly flawed.
I only care in what I think of myself and not in what others think of me. If I felt that my value lies in merely being decorative, I fear that one day I may think that's all I really am. Time erodes all such beauty, but what it cannot diminish is the wonderful workings of my mind. My humour, my kindness, my moral courage - these are the things I cherish.
