Brief moments,
in the end we are merely highlights,
a showreel – conscious, yet not of thought,
the sum total of action
and not a touch more.
In the end, intentions matter little,
desire is a petty distraction
little matters in theory
and theory matters little.
We are action.
Mercy, itโs in our prayers
and itโs our biggest cancer,
societies poison, humanities pill,
itโs mercy, the sweet nectar of power
at mercies behest some plunder and steal.
Mercy, it both separates
and connects us to the animal kingdom.
The power of mercy
bestowed upon lords,
the bedrock of hierarchy
and so much more.
Mercy, the noose around the neck
of the 21st century serf,
the promise of subjugation
at birth,
the promise of death by a thousand cuts,
mercy, so misunderstood in a merciless world.
Maybe thereโs beauty in passing,
maybe thereโs justice in violence and
maybe thereโs no life worth saving.
None except yours?
one life worth saving?
a set of dreams worth keeping?
Joyous times now replaced
with somber days,
short burst of joy spread
throughout longer days,
you ever felt so alone with friends…
And at the same time at home with strangers?
Still believe in time,
yet Iโve lost faith in patience;
they tell me youโre smiling
I miss how that face looked,
you ever felt invisible…
The true irony is when you face it.
Just a soul among many,
just a name,
excluding experience,
Weโre all the same.
At best we get a moment,
at worst, you are just a face.
Take my hand,
you are still my light
in the dark.
You just are,
my very own sun,
such a beautiful star.
Where you are,
is the place
that I seek from afar.
This times ours,
forever we stand
heart to heart.
What is constant in a world of moments,production is in abundance yet so many are still hopeless?So what is always in a world of โneverโin a world of sometimes,whatโs forever?Dreamt a thousand dreams.Hoped forevermore,for brighter days for the pooror just a chance at it,a shot at a future, a slice of hope,because while at times it shines here,the rains been constantand the joy has always been brief,yet the pains so constant.
๐๐๐๐ถ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐๐๐๐พ๐๐, ๐ต๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐ ๐ฒโ๐๐น๐๐
No silver spoon,
I only know drug antidotes,
only thing to ease my mind
when the demons call.
Five years my junior,
but the reason I became a man.
On these words I stand…
your lifeโs my only plan.
Jungle made of concrete,
seen no easy years,
lifeโs so unfair…
can still feel your soul in the air.
I always heard talk of โwhatโs meant to beโย told time and time again that life works wonders.
Time after time Iโd disagree.
Iโd ask,
โWhoโs to say whatโs meant for me?โ
whoโs to say I matter so much, so much that thereโs a plan out of reach, some divine notion, a greater guidance of sorts… on what grounds do I base such arrogant assumptions?
On what evidence do we assume our lives more worthy than the next…
our lives more righteous than the past?
If the individual is paramount, if โspecialโ is what we are,
then by what criteria is that marked?
this is all I ask
