November 29, 2008

For the sake of a fake checkmate debate

The king is but a fancy wooden pawn whose movements across the board depend
upon the whim of the player.
The game is limited by the rules and only strategies make it work.
In this sense the game is as much in the mind as much as the mind is in the game.

Through black and white turns, the pieces end into a checkmate - a unique configuration of terminal consequence. The winning strategy enjoys its 15 minutes of fame while yet another game proves yet another winner.

War is always about with and without.
Power is a bunch of sensational baubles crammed into an empty hole that could not be filled creatively.
Victory in some senses is a desperate attempt to humor insecurity.
The need to prove is at times only a sorry desire to draw juvenile attention.
This world is arrested by the overgrown children who cannot stop clasping and clinging to some temporally insignificant medals hanging over lonely pedestals standing in phallic upright glory in the middle of a deserted stadium.

It is so obviously fake!

A special tramp walked from place to place, getting rid of the trash that polluted his world.
While we watch through the glass the thunder and the storms he lived in the rains watching our homes.
Something about his soul seemed perfectly in place.
Beyond his decadence was concealed an honest reality.
He represented the soul of humanity's lost face.

If an alien observer were to stumble upon this rare representative of the human species, the extraterrestrial intelligence would most certainly be amazed at the evolvability and harmony that danced within the enlightened tramp.

It would be precious, I imagine, from the most unearthly points of view.

Meanwhile. the wizards behind the curtain play the real games.
Their minds are molded by the context that they create.
These geniuses are mad men who are born too soon and their silence is a word that speaks without sounds

Beyond the veils lay lesser mortals scurrying about in precious perplexity, chasing tacit lines within imaginary boundaries they follow the false kings.
Ambiguously serving a certain queen who pulls apathetically upon their strings.

I sit with the sages who close eyes beneath the tree and watch silently the sun setting over the seas.
In every breath and every thought, pulsates the rhythms of their universe.

Vibrating with indispensable precision, they comprehend the situation.

There is an art in this universe that can only be expressed but never be perceived.
There is a truth about existence that can only be experienced and never be deceived.

The flowing river carries passengers from heaven to hell.
Some are in search of an escape, while others are escaping from some search.
I stand with those who are there simply because of the flow, neither tied to the river, nor enchanted by the shore.

November 26, 2008

For your information only....

The music chars the pieces of space separating these thoughts from the vibrations of random quantum states.
Very few contexts remain after all beliefs are shed and there is absolutely no place to retreat. Somehow now seems to be the only certainty, and space appears wide open for you to see.
These visions are not simply an occasion for confused delight.
If you have arrived here by chance, then by chance you shall leave everything behind.
So, where is your mind & where are your thoughts?

Walking on a parched street after a rare rain, the sparkling sunlight flickers like multitudes of stars in bold sunlight.
Its a glimpse of a past that cannot be forgotten simply because it was never remembered.
What kind of connections do you call these?
What are these ancient memories?

As time flows again, the changes in hell surprise the naive visitors from heaven.
misunderstand this mythological duality.
It is already enriched with cryptic clues and precious seeds.
There is no black or white when the gradients of the inevitable storm wash away your tidy consciousness.
When you die, you become ash and dust.
You have no choice - you simply must.

But before that, there is a lot to experience.
There are a countless sunsets to feel and infinite moments to live.
You cannot simply arrive at the end as if this life is a journey.
without the bracket of a beginning and an end is hard to imagine isn't it?

However much you reason with this flux, you can never win if that's the way you see it.
There are hidden dimensions hiding more worlds than have been seen by mad men and spirits. You will learn if you keep still.
You will remember when you move.

Today take a look above while your feet hold the ground that moves unpredictably thorough an unknown universe.
It cannot really be understood.
This is FYI only!

November 04, 2008

These are a musical times....

Change shines in like a colorless light.
It erupts into an energy that is unfathomable and countless in a vibrant sort of way.
When something important happens, it happens in a very authentic manner - like the blues. Waves of positronic flux simultaneously envelop and leap out of the imaginary boundaries that separated us from our own selves.
We are finally getting a glimpse into our own unity.
We are looking back in time - enshrining our roots.
The old and the orthodox minus the preciousness of tradition are only an empty shatter in the subtle fears that pin us down to comfort, that break our intrepid spirit, and crowd our innocent freedom.
The voice of change is a song of the youth.
This is a rhythm of new energy.
Nomore a plastic replica.
Its real this time.
It is the pulse of the new generation.
The milieu of a collective human behavior.
It is that what politics truly is.

Something of utmost importance is going on and we need to awaken to its beauty.
We need to let go of our adolescent notions of a languished material pride and symbolic apathy to welcome this fresh and detached sense of impermanent ownership.
There is no race and the finish line is just a carrot hanging over our quintessential vision - blinding us from our soul.

The reward lies not in a discovery, but in a pious predisposition to connect with our higher selves.
The inevitable is inevitable only because of the innate rhythms of nature.
In reality we are all trying to reveal to each other a blatantly open secret -

Dear Diary - Day Zero (0)

Several of us had escaped the world when several others blew it up. At that final moment we saw pieces of ourselves launched into the portion of space that used to be the earth. We had no plans for life. Life did not involve planning anymore. All the plans had apparently been leading to our imminent self-destruction. A powerful realization dawned in this moment of absence. The paucity of everything that used to be taken for granted dissolved into a single fact, shattering into a pin point. We certainly did a thorough job of annihilation.
After all, it was our speciality.

In the absence of the earth the moon shifted its orbits, and the solar system seemed dreadfully empty as I drifted into deeper space. I had a few more hours of life support before I too would become yet another system, breaking down into infinite continuum.

We never found out if there was life on other planets. For the first time, I felt lonely without being able to do nothing about it. But then emotions and thoughts are also systems that eventually break down. loneliness transformed into freedom.
Yes. A brief sort of freedom, but the most absolute kind nonetheless.
It was precious...

We had all been living like the lab animal - born into a well controlled environment, hooked to pipelines of food, water, and energy. We left our wild roots for the comfort of concrete walls with beautiful paintings of mystery safely hanging at a distance. We slept in peace with imaginary fears and silly ambitions of 'making' it in life. Now it was all amusing to think we knew.
But we hardly had a clue.

Retrospectively it makes sense that our end at our own hands was inevitable. After all, once we traded cold comfort for change, it was all about guarding it with our lives, the lives of our families, and those we loved. The ones we despised, the ones we hated, were on the other side of some colluded boundary.
Caricatured lines separated us from ourselves, like the clothes that concealed the natural nakedness we had become so terribly ashamed of.

War is certainly the organizing principle of life!

I died on the doomsday, but my entire life did not pass before my eyes.


Colors enhanced in the dark, Creatures in the mind lying still, Bright flashes hurt the eyes, if you want to will! No voices from deep within Can answer you tonight. This is the last hour, before the final fight! You'll lose your peace of mind, let go your values behind, This is the last hour, before the final fight! Your breath is counting hours, to stop for a while. In an instant of eternity, you close your eyes with a smile! There will be flashes from the past, and premonitions of the future. Your present is a dead grave, and your life has gone obscure! You see the tunnel vision, And your body levitates in the wind. You imagine the Heavens- Taking your martyred soul within! You have hated and you have loved, You have sinned every sin. You have called the almighty at times, And worshipped the Devil within! Now you lie in the grave, of pious purity- and you wonder what you've done, to die among these loved ones!