Dreams

A dream is a step out of reality. It’s a step higher and deeper. You could love someone you hate and hate someone you love. Go out of reality the wildness of the real and live yourself out of the paradigm of life. Lose yourself and imagine the unimaginable. Fathom the feint of insanity. Reawaken your thoughts you terror.

When the nights chill and the owl calls come you fall and lie you leave and despair. While your soul leaves you and you dream. Unaware of whom you are and why you are. Your soul raises, conscious mind halts, while your sub-conscious flows. Then you dream dreams you love and dreams you hate, and ones you love cause of hate. The mind forgets it because it doesn’t believe. Stands with spite. Must be a replay, a spirit, but your mind perceives you’re heart desire. There are those who dream whilst awake. They don’t know who they are. They just flow and follow their instincts.

Beasts in the lack of sense of reality. They lose themselves and think they know themselves. Their lost. Perceive an imagination of reality so insane so obscure. In a charm, they live in a dream. It’s a contagious account. The reality is an insane feat; just stubbornly believe the dreams dream.
Man dreams of hope a vision of redemption. From the self-delusion of his own serenity to the tranquility of the abode. He’s lived forever by play. He’s directed onto a scene and is not even getting paid. He’s committed his own victim. Neither cares or knows of its pain and gash it has inflicted, the harm it suffers. Its cry he cannot understand. Seems like a foreign language. More sonic waves we may not hear. The captive is yelling. Until he pulls the chain of development and yanks it till its heard and allowed for all to hear. “God oh god please save me from my misery. I beg you my lord please help!” forever he may plead. There’s journey of hope for when a man may desire it he will be enlightened and be flabbergasted and go beyond himself and know whole truly his potential.

Madness of God

We dream to see him but could we?
We describe his glory and splendor but should we?
We imagine his strength and wisdom but can we?
He envelops and engulfs this world in mystery.
He conceals himself within himself.
He knows everything before you.
You paint his face but does he have one?
You realize his strong arm but does he posses one?
You think he hates you when he loves you.
You describe his actions as curses when there really blessings in disguise.
You think you know him when it’s impossible to know.
You cry out of pain from your suffering, when really they should give you joy.
We credit the work of our hands when it was given to us.
We mistake nature as natural.
We have faith in time of glee and spite in time of pain.
The world is not when we think it is all.
We fool ourselves, and think we fooled the world.
We are petrified of insanity; we fear it or are it.
We have a phobia, illness, and madness for God.
We try to portray, describe, and imagine.
Dream, hope, and live.
Die to long, desire and feel.
All else we fathom but God we cannot.
With zeal I say we are mad for God.

Life's Goal

I’m sitting here trapped in my own dream; there is no reachable light just real far away. My hand keeps falling. I’ve been locked in this pit and am left with god and I ask and plead, “Why don’t you come to my salvation?” But my echo is all that is heard I beg and cry, the tears are mine. I have not lived to see failure for fear of success. I just dream of it. I trust in god to give me my strength and power.

My salvation has not been forthcoming. The heart asks but gets no response. Its blood is cold it sees no warmth. The mind is dull waiting for it to be let of. I’ve dreamed and dreamed in dreams but none to come true. I yelled and yelled none to hear. I asked and asked but none to hear an answer but yet you try again and again. Where is life if not for trying? I must strive again and harder each time. Because we were born for it, the goal of trying. No response no answer of reality. Just continue to try again and again, that is our goal.
God heard my cry. What use is it again if he has not told me anything back? Is there use in something pointless? Is it worth to try when you tried? That is the goals and desire in life. That is the idea to refine yourself and be of a better person. A time where we are all one and desire but one thing. If not for that is there a point living? Tell me. I feel like I’ve lived one hundred years my thoughts don’t stop the sound rings in my ears. My heart just can’t stop pumping. My mind wanders to celestials of places…

Art's Following

Art is the expression of the soul. It is where souls express itself within the body and mind. Lose yourself and allow your soul to express it. To reveal the inner secret what it wants and what it desires, the foretelling of essence or some might say sub-conscious. Art is a talent not possessed by all and those who have it and master it could achieve unbelievable heights. Reach to where the mind lays hidden to where it lies and quivers in the cold awaiting for the warmth of the heart. It seeks refuge and conceals. The art reveals that passion our hearts are waiting to reveal, out hearts know it all. To reveal the innermost of our personality and character. To enlighten this dark cave we live in. The solemn world concealed within us.

Walls are wet with tears, painted with myriads of colors. Complexion. Arrays of pictures, scenery, and scenario, where we paint our life. What overlooked lies and distressed thoughts? The multitudes of feelings mark our vessel, and wall where they hang. Haunt us and cry forever. This is the abyss of depression we dig for ourselves. Fooled to be left in utter gloom. Pen of sorrow. Develop and forget. Caged our conscious within the sub-conscious and forever forget.

For this we need art, lights up our hovel, which we dwell, and disgust. Lament on its being. It’s bright and we realize, and contemplate our soul and passion. Where we dwelled what seemed forever. Enlightened. Shone to us. This is the purpose of art it is the key and light to your inner and secluded self.

Yom Hashoah

Just a little something I wrote for Yom Hashoah:

As the day of remembrance approaches we all stand in silence for what and who we are now, a people loved and cared by all. What good is remembrance if we hope to forget? Life of lies and deception. Look at our people their tears and blood have not told us enough? For we seek that which lies beyond our realm of reality. But is that what seems true? Today is the day we remember our people who we have forgot in our lives of fortune and happiness. Today is the day we remember those who have fallen and those in which we seek refuge of their memory. Blood poured, hearts broken, lives destroyed. For what? For whom?

To whom is this mighty god that demands such sacrifices? Ask away as our forefathers didn’t. Die for an answer for they died for a question. The words of god written on their lips as they were brutally crucified by the Satan of humanity. Blood of grief and death covered their face as they yelled to the one who could answer their prayer… They didn’t die for nothing, at least I hope not! Perished for the question to be answered and our answer to be questions.

They told god. “Why has this befallen us? Choose another people!
Have we not given enough blood? Choose another people!
Have you not seen our suffering? Choose another people!
We have spoken from the depth of our heart. Choose another people!
Give back the gift of our holiness.”

On this day we remember and never to forget, for to forget is to let us die and those of evil to prevail. Remember their name and truth. Don’t we strive all of life to answer the unanswered? Haven’t they died trying? Tell me!

Today is the day where the sun stood in utter darkness. Seas dried from this heat of hatred and anger. Replaced with the blood of uncertainty. Have we lost all hope? Don’t know…
We have asked millions of questions, traded them for millions of lives. Have we not given enough? On this day we remember amidst all those that chose to forget.

Run run to the niche of your false salvation, for it will bear evil in return. Have you not seen the pangs of history? It’s wheel of death and servitude? Struggle the days end for the unneeded.

Our tears fill this gaping well of gun wounds. Salt tasting delicacies drip to my gaping mouth of awe and wonder. Puzzlement is far beyond what we could imagine.

Question. Answer. I believe answer is the true question to the answer. If we die trying at least we die like human beings. Mother of hope. Mother of dreams. On this day we remember the past, past and past. Tomorrow is the days of future of a better tomorrow. But today we try, just stop and try, try once more once harder. For the past is what brings us life and what brings us the future, enough about the past.

If we had a dream to live one day in the death camp would we live it? With the same uncertainty. Dancing with vermin or with angels? Would we? To live one second of time tainted with blood and suffering. Should we? Perhaps not. Have we nothing better to do then provoke memory? Today is still the day of remembrance!

As we lie awake in this sleep of memory. Channel one moment of time to answer one question that has been paid for. Live the life our friends couldn’t, only dreamed of. Wake up each day not to remember but to relive the life they have forever fathomed, is this not the answer? Is that not appeasing the boiling blood of wrath? We must live by what we thank, forget the despised and remember for what we live.

If I had six million days, I would be complete, sated, and content with the question we were born with.

Today is the day we may struggle to forget but die trying. Remember those who have died trying to live!