Archive for the ‘Philosophy’ Category

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A Matter Of Perspective

May 10, 2010

One summer evening, lucid in sleep, I’m woken to the noise of chattering children….All of a sudden, in the darkness I’m troubled by faltering rotations of an old rattling fan, the sound of water gushing out on the floor, and the careless ticking of the clock…. The passing away of precious time. The break from my hectic, tiresome life, into my world of dreams has shattered. I lose hope of all sleep and get back and move, and that ugly feeling sinks in yet again.

We all identify with that, don’t we? The hollow feeling in the pit of the stomach, the aching heart, the burdened mind, the feeling of being mechanical, and everything good coming to an end….all leading to one conclusion, life’s tedious, it’s dragging and you’re in it alone.

However, it’s life, so it must go on, it doesn’t wait to hear, the song of the soul, steadily moves forward…Well, and so be it. I get up and move out in the open, so that all my senses wake up again, to continue work. I walk out, and hear the sound of the wind, the wind blowing against the leaves….I look up to a perfectly blue sky, and birds soaring through it, I hear the musical hum of bees, the chirping of birds and the chattering… which now seem like careless whispers of little children, their expression of the joy of life, portraying clear hearts and callous, unburdened minds. I drift back into the sands of time, and memories of my own childhood, the chattering in parks, the water fights, the picnics, the walks, all come back to me with renewed force. I leisure in my past, bask in it’s glorifying beauty, and intuitively, quietly, my eyes are filled with teardrops….. Maybe life isn’t bad after all.

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THE DARKER SIDE

May 10, 2010

In labyrinth allies, and pitch black nights,

I add the sparkle and the light.

Or in the lives of the rich you ‘ll find,

Ill fated things,just of my kind.

You look at me with hateful eyes,

Fill me  with shame and despise,

But that s the story in the sun shine,

In the darkest hour, you want to be mine.

From me you ll want your greatest pleasure,

Or simply share your secrets’ treasure,

Burn me with cigarettes  and act insane,

To watch me whimper and cry in pain.

To satisfy your deepest desire,

I’m served to you on a bed of fire,

Or keep you warm in the winter’s cold,

Every passing night, I change my mould

Purging the society, but yet impure,

The mother of a child you never bore,

I am a service and nothing more,

A pseudo woman, a slut, a whore.