to live, is to die with a smile

messages for you

2011-07-12T17:38:00.000-07:00

"Dear Darling,

Where have I been? I was up and down, here and there, jumping around, and skipping through the needly grass. Experience cannot really be written again, unless someone else writes it, you know?
I thought I got it all sorted out. Lets talk in metaphors, it's always easy to do when I wana talk about deep stuff.

I came back from the farm lands, back into Britanya, and I thought the kingdom was ready for me, and I was ready for the kingdom. I wanted to emerge with those who I love into light from this world of darkness. 'Its pretty dark down here guys, we should really check it out up there.' I announced. At first, everyone was excited about the future idea, everyone agreed and wanted to marry through to the top. Everyone knew there was light up there, and it was most porbably nice light. But then, I kept talking about the future idea, of how we can get together and make ourselves ready for it, talk about it, see what everyone thinks about the world up there.
But so much talking I have done..."

"Dear Darling,

I love you in space and time.
I am down with the sleepy drawns,
singing harmonics, dancing among vultures.
I am down with a sickness I said,
a sickness I have made.
You are not here to harm,
this heart has one person to belong.
I am where I belong, in the bossom of the soul.
I love you in space and time."

"Dear Darling,

I remember now, it was a storm of emotions and thought, I thought... I thought. thought. thought, until my mind gave up. I thought thinking thoughts, kept doing it for a bit more, and then stopped, Fate, Goddess of Playfulness & Mystery, Lady of the Air, Master of Puppets, showed me: 'Love is not something that people have. Love is not dependent on you or me. Love is a Place, Love is a place where our souls can rest. When I am in Love, I am the Place of Rest. When I am in Love, I am with you and everyone else. When I am in Love, I become Love.'

So, with that in mind, I stopped searching for Love. She wasn't some person that I needed to find, neither a person I needed to help. And now I am playing in the soft & green grass fields."

Welcome to Petrovski

2011-02-21T22:13:00.000-08:00

(The blue/yellow bins we fill with pears and the house I eat, pee, and drink tea in)

Hi,
Today I hope to introduce you to my picking family at the current farm.
You already met good old frenchie Justin and Stan the man.
Here are our new family:

Victor The Victorious
Another german-russian man, very energic, once, we were aiming to do 6 bins (of pears) each for the day (our top score, achieved only once), on the last bins, he started talking to pears and told us "the pears are saying PICK ME, NO PICK ME, ME ME ME!" of course he is not insane, but definitly crazy. We have lots of fun making stupid jokes and faces.

Jimmy The Big Boss
An old man, the father of Arthuer (see below), goes around the farm while we are picking with his motor bike and tells us what to do, he is really funny, when he gets frustrated and angry he throws fucks and bastards together and then keeps on talking, confusing, for example he would be talking about trees that had two varieties of pears and would suddenly say "fucking bastard fuck" and then say "those jewish people make these trees". He likes talking with us, and mentioning "jiggy-jiggy" from time to time.

Arthuer The Boss
The owner of the farm, always working, from 7-8 in the morning till 8-9 at night, drinks coffee and smokes ciggirates all day. Really good boss, he takes everyone into consideration. Sometimes when I smile at him while he is working he would shout "WHAT!" and i would shrink and make up something to say or just say "nothing... how are you?" He is pretty cool, I might come back and work for him. He also gives us beer sometimes after work!

Trevor The Helper
Trever is a funny-fun old lad, in his 50s, yet still full of energy, a high funny voice, and a tendancey to talk to himself. He always makes a joke about him not doing anything and still getting paid, and gives a little devil's chuckle, its hiliarous, awesome dude. He wants to travel around with a fancy caravan when he finishes. I always tell him "Don't work too hard!" and he would reply "ha ha! yeaaaa right!" (he works as much as Arthur).

Jimmy The Clean
As I mentioned before, most men and woman here are Macedonians, and Jimmy is one that lives in Melbourne. We always sit with him at work, and talk about bins and picking. He likes Victor, and he would shout over the fields of pear trees "VICTOR! Too slow!" and will everyday, twice, say to Victor "If Hitler win, all speak German!" I think Victor is really tired of that. He is called The Clean because he picks 7 bins a day of pure pears, no leaves, no branches, nothing but pears.

Viki The Cats' Lady
She loves cats, and we have plenty of them under the house, "I come here every year, for 20 years (or something long like that), they are my babies!" she told me once about the cats. Every morning she would wake up and call "Puss puss poss" to feed the cats. She is the mother of the family, always taking care of everyone and providing help for who needs it.

Nicola The Confusing
The only words I understand from him are Yes, Hello, Good morning, Is Ok, and No. The rest of his words are either Macedonian and Russian, but he keeps talking, thinking that we (mostly me) would understand him, I can't, one word I would always mention to him is "What?!" He is a good man though, and has a joyful laugh.

Meitrai The Giant
A giant man with giant feet, picks 10 bins a day, and ONLY eats instant noodles, tomoato sauce, and curry powder everyday, every meal! We were all trying to figure out how he does it, but its really illogical.

Nygeal The Dreamer
I sleep in my tent, and he sleeps in his car, and I always hear him dreaming, mostly nightmares, they dont sound very good. I love his laugh and his laugh-face, espacially when he gets drunk on french brandy, he talks a lot and tells us some funny stories. He is fun to talk to.

Omar The Storyteller
As his name suggests, he loves talking stories, history, and politics. He doesn't live with us in the farm, but he comes over after work sometimes. "I never say please" one time he said, and he talks until we have to sneak out to go to bed. But I love his talks, I always find it interesting to listen to his view of politics and the history of countries.

And that is all, it's not a bad family, but I like it. I love how everyone is different and always love listening to all of them.

I am finishing work soon, my skin is full of scratches, my back feels like an old man, my bones are aching with pain, and my mind is aching for a thai massage. At the end of the Williams (the pears we are picking) picking season, the Big Boss organizes a barbaque for all the pickers with good food and beer, I am looking forward for that!

Melbourne, here I come! again...

Pears, pears, bin, pears, pears.

2011-02-10T17:05:00.001-08:00

That's all I am thinking about now, "today I have to pick 4 bins, I gotta pick the pears this way so I can get maximum speed!" "4 bins a day, 10 days to go, $31 per bin, $27 after tax, multiply 4 and 10, and then $27... that would be enough money then... what if I got 5 bins? what if I had 12 days instead?" my mind races and calculates.

But before I got on with the pears, I must try to rewind and start at where I stopped last time.

Butch and Ross came, drunk, and said "We've got you a job boys! picking pears! stripping! you don't have to think about which ones you pick, you just take everything and throw it in your bag! it's good money!" our eyes twinkled, we were a bit tired from the farm we were at, we had to wait a while until we picked plums, pears sounded better, and easier, and a new place would be a nice change.

A day ago, Butch came and sat with us, and he said "Respect each other, help each other out, stick together, and look at the world right in the fucking eyes."

So we decided we would go, the next day.
The day before "the next day" Butch and Ross came again and said "come to Ross' place! we going to have a BBQ!" I knew what that involved, lots of smoking, drinking, and senseless talking, and a bit of food. So we did, slept in Ross' house, woke up in the morning (5am, because we had to work at 6.30pm) went back to our place, got ready, and went to do some weeding in that vegetables farm we worked in before. It was really hot, and very tiring.

We went back home and packed our stuff, waited for Butch and Ross for 6 hours, and they didn't come (we found out later that they were getting drunk again that day)
So we called a friend of ours with a car (this is me, Justin, and Stan by the way) and she drove us to the new farm.

Filled with Macedonians, the farm was huge with many pears and small amount of apples. We camped outside a half-house (which contained 2 rooms and a kitchen in between them) The old men (most of the pickers here were old Macedonian men and woman) told us immediately not to touch their stuff, clean the "eating table" after eating, don't cook before 9pm, and go to sleep at 10. We didn't feel very welcomed, and it was a bit strange. Stan stayed at another house, which was a bit bigger.

So started the first day of picking pears, it was not bad, you pick the pears by pulling it up upwards (not downwards), from 6am to 5pm (but we get to choose when to start/finish) and we have to fill a bin with 500kg of pears. First day was not bad for a start, 8 bins for three people, but that would be boring to write about.

Sadly, there isn't much more to say. All I can add is I sleep on a veranda with my tent on hard wood, the ground has been wet (and wet again today) and muddy, it's either really hot or raining here (some days it's nice, but doesn't last long, it comes in between the hot day and the rainy day), I have been dance-picking (picking pears while dancing), I go crazy after 3pm (when picking) and start making animal noises, climbing the trees, pick with passionate rage, and run around like a ninja.

In the end, I will come back to Brisbane soon, after a week of Melbourne, possibly in the start of March.
End transmission.

In The Country where they say G’day to you

2011-01-24T23:25:00.000-08:00

Crazy, this place is crazy. It’s good, but also crazy. I am writing with a german keyboard, and the Z and Y are in different places, I even ment to write Y first then Z, it’s a strange keyboard. Anyway, i am changing, the people around me are again, affecting me, heavily. Country people, the french man Justin quoted, “Alwayz fuck fuck fuck, fuck.“ To Butch, the 54 year-old, old–timer picker, abronginal man living in the same farm as us. Good fella, great fella, very honest, but rough with his words. A great man, but it saddens me when I know that if I was a homosexual, I would have a very different treatment from him. Pofter, that’s the word they use for “the gay people“ Butch said.

They say a lot here, “That pofter“ “You pofter“ they keep saying. A lot of hate in them, sad.
But I can see the good side of’em. And I am (as in my physical presence on Earth, Ahmed) slowly changing to who they are, rough, always swearing, full of hatred (or un-understanding) towards their illusion of enemies. I found myself trying to race my friend in fruit-picking, and feeling jealousy and annoyance of some of Justin’s actions. I am observing it, obviously this journey is here to heal my male-ego, and return the balance within myself.

Back to physical realiy, the more interesting and fun side, I am still smoking lots of ganja, everyday, can’t help it, it always come back to me. I am beginging to think I am a bit too open. It’s all good though, still wake up 6am in the morning healthy, awake, and ready for another hard day. Lately, I have picked Peaches, Apricots, Plums, and TOMATOES! They are captilzied beacuse they were a pain in the back, you gotta “put your ass above your head“ they say. Simply means you bend your back a lot to pick them tomatoes. Good experience though, picked up a couple of pumpkins (2 days after, we had pumpkin curry, with onion, garlic, ginger, tomatoes, mixed beans and smooth and lovely coconut cream. Plus rice), 3 cucumbers, a bunch of tomatoes of course, a solo eggplant, and a big fucking zuccinni, so big it’s name changes to “Maro“ (or something like that, but crazy, no?).
(And after an hour I smashed it with a golf club, it was inedible anyway)

We also ate grass parrots, hunted and killed by our very own italian boss. I went through the stage of de-feathering them, cutting their stomach area to get all the guts, heart, and lungs out, with a finger, burning them lightly to re-clean the feathers from the skin, chop their head, legs, and wings off, stick it in a pot with some potatoes and onions, maybe carrots, and you get a really good grass parrots stew. I hope I don’t get stuck in this mind-state.

We worked a bit more, still picking, got a good amount of money, and smoked a bit more dope.
Life is good, no matter who surrounds you, even when you miss your friends back there where you can’t look at their eyes and smile in appreciation of their presence. I am finding myself feeling love from other people, because I accept who they are, or my face does. But my mind is haunted by thoughts of judgements towards them.

Although, we did have a nice day at the pool yesterday (Saturday, I am writing this on Sunday, but I would probably publish online on Tuesday. Sorry for the confusion), swam myself breathless, ate more sausages (we have been eating sausages for the past 5 days) played the card game Speed, the AWOeSommE game my older sister taught me and kicked my ass in, with other peeps, lost, and decided to jump in the pool again, this time swimming backwards in a slow relaxing motion. Very nice, I thought.

Although, 3 days ago, me and Justin were picking peaches, and came up with a “Shout“ for fruit picking, it went:
Up and down the ladder we go,
Picking fruit and that’s what we do.

We laughed on certain subjects, like Stan…

-- 10 days ago, Stan came in the picture, a German young man with a light black beard and bright blue eyes. He was a villigant man, looking for truth and asking many questions. Having never learnt how to cook proper dinner, Ahmed and Justin worked towards teaching the German young man on The Art of Cooking. Problem is, sometimes he asked a bit too many questions, leaving his fellow friends with a slight frown, adding to the already excisting frown manifested by the sun’s heat and rays. But Stan was willing to learn, and that was good. --

… being funny sometimes like a cartoon charactor, or predicting how long is going to take to fill this freaking bin with fist-full sized peaches, or about our friends back home, or our weird, yet epic, experiences we had in our life, or about how funny is the word given to italians here “WOGS“, otherwise proudly indentified by our italian boss as “people who like cash“, which explained after our question to him (9 days ago) “Why are you paying us cash?“.

2 weeks ago we also met Kevin, a 14 years veteran of fruit picking, half were which done in New Zealand, his home country. Good guy, he offered to show me around the north of the South Island when I visit in 1 year and a half.

Back to the end of this present, we are listening to good music and fighting the flies with “Fly Papers“ (sticky papers that hang from the cealing and holds down any fly that touches it, there is plenty of them.), and smoking ciggis. Time for me to disappear from the computer reality to the other one.

Journey to the country and beer!

2011-01-13T21:41:00.000-08:00

I haven't been in contact with much people because I have been living out in the country, where the dust is harsh and the sun is blistering, where your hands are always dirty and you wear the same clothes for 3 days minimal, where the cows moo and the wind blows freely.

I have been in Melbourne for a while, but I am not going to talk about that much, I will only say I was discovering some cool things like Lentil As Anything, a restaurant where you pay as much as you feel like to a box, and I volunteered there, and if you do for at least one day a week, you can eat for free the whole week. I have much more to say about that place, but I will leave it for now, for the country holds interesting events.

So I started my first job at a farm in Kyabram, north of Victoria, picking apricots. It wasn't too bad, but we had a shit boss that wouldn't tell us that we didn't have 4 days of work until a day before. May the spirit be with him, but I decided to go back to Melbourne. I was low on money by then, $150 I think, partied new years there with heaps of African people, and Jeremy and Allay, cool people, you might know Jeremy, some of you. Then I got another job on Monday (two days after new years), in Shepparton, the main north town (close to Kyabram, or Kyabram is close to it). This girl finds jobs for backpackers, we pay her $40 for a job (if it's at least 2 weeks). It was easy, I thought...

I arrived at night, I got picked up and dropped off at a Caravan Park (I thought I was staying in the farm), didn't complain, got a tent, but it was too dark to put it up, so I slept with my sleeping bag under the stars, very romantic if I didn't have the wind blowing really hard and the mosquitoes biting harder, plus I had a big headache, only slept for 4 hours I think, maybe less.
Woke up in the morning, my mom called me, talked to her for a while (she found it funny that I was working in farms now) Then my ride to the farm came while I was on the phone, so I had to run to get my stuff ready (I thought it was coming in an hour), and I had a big load of vegies from Melbourne in my tent (no refrigeration), so I just took what I could eat raw, celery, banana, and ... ciggis where my lunch.
Yes I am smoking more now.

That's when I met Justin, my companion, he was confused about the ride too, and he came in last. He sat near me and said "Hello Boy!" in a country French accent (later I discovered) I worked with him that day, and everyday since. He is a funny big guy, doesn't talk much English, so I had to talk to him in simple broken English, I started talking to everyone like that after a while. He owns a farm in France that plants one of the most famous flowers sold in Paris, he slaughter cows and sells their meat, he (used) to smoke lots of ganja, and had 18 plants outside his farm on the public road (so if the cops come and see them, he can claim it's not his, because it's on public property), and he has a spa!

Anyway, we both moved to the farm (to live in) the second day we arrived, he was as poor as me, and we ate food together. The place where we were living had an outside kitchen, with no water (in the kitchen) no hot water in the toilet, and not much to cook with, but enough, and we were happily satisfied because it was cheap.

We picked for 4 days on this farm, the apricots farm. Here how picking fruit works, you pick lots of them and fill up a "half-bin", which takes us (two people) around 1.5 hours to fill, depending on our motivation and energy, and you get paid depending on the fruit, in the case of apricots, its $30 (before tax). Not much pay, but then again, you don't spend much time, and it makes you work harder. Me and Justin were doing 7 bins a day, motivating ourselves by having a ciggi after each bin finished.

During our stay in the farm, there was Thaw (not sure if that was his name, sometimes we called him Boy, or Justin did, and I followed) he was a NZ old man that had a bottle of VB beer every time we saw him (even sometimes when he was picking). He was an old timer picker, many years of picking. At some point he offered us to borrow his van, me and Justin take it for a ride around the country to find jobs, just me and Justin. We were very excited, Justin thought Thaw was coming with us half the time, and he was as excited as me, imagine how excited he was when it was just me and him.
We got really excited... we talked about the places we will go, Mildura, Adelaide, about what we are going to do, discover winerys, pick oranges! it was beautiful.

Not until the day we were leaving. Becky (the girl that got us jobs) came and said we can work for a day in another farm after we finish (now it's Thursday), and she also offered me a permanent job at the farm for 3 months, it sounded nice, but travelling with the van sounded nicer. So we decided we will go with the van to the other farm, work one day, and then head off.

Thaw that day decided he want to join us, after having 4 big bottles of beers, he wanted to make sure we are ok. An irish guy, Mathew, was working with us, and he asked him to come so he can drive him back (since he was too drunk + has no licenses, that's why he was ok with lending us his van, Thaw that is). We packed up everything, I forgot my towel, and Thaw drove, claiming he was going to show Justin how to drive it. He drove half of the way, and half of the time we were silent, the other half we were constantly asking him to stop and let Justin drive... No use. At last, he stopped, Justin drove, we couldn't find the farm, so we went back to Shepparton, we (me and Justin) asked to be dropped at a "MarketPlace" (where Woolies is at) then we called Becky and begged her to drop us at the farm.

By then we forgot about the van idea, and plotted to both get the permanent position in the farm, everything was changing so fast around me, my head was spinning, I was feeling bad for dragging Justin with me, but he said "is ok, no worries". It was comforting, I found it really easy to trust him.

So we got to the farm, there was a place to live, we were going to stay in our tents, it was around 9pm now, where the sun was setting down, two old pickers, Ben and Boch, were drinking beer and smoking joints, appeared, and me and Justin gave a big smile to each other, "this place is going to be good" i said, and he nodded his head happily with a grin. So normally, we joined them and drank beer and smoked joints, it was a great first night, and we heard many stories from them. It was hard for Justin to understand, but he was happy to sit and watch, and he would tell everyone "i no speak english, you are my teacher!".

This continued until last night (today is Friday), the drinking of beer/wine and smoking joints every night, and we have been working during the day doing weeding and maintaining the trees, sometimes stopping because of the heavy rain.

Anyway, i have to leave now, library closing, but i hope everyone is well down in Brisbane, and everyone is well in their journeys. I miss Brisbane a lot, and I hope to come down as soon as my journey is finished.
The sky is blue now, we will work hard the coming days.

brains

2010-11-24T18:14:00.000-08:00

dear child

2010-07-27T07:22:00.000-07:00

"You."
He said to his child of two summers.

"You are not mine, even if you were part of me.
You are not a trophy, i can polish and show my pride through
You are not a puppet i control to do as I believe,
nor shall you be a puppet to others."

a tear flowed down his right cheek,

"I... I am but a teacher for your path.
I am but a receiver of the universe's creation.
I am but a lucky man to see such creation exist,
and grow."

his body felt warm and shaky

"You have no debt for me,
for I am blessed to have you,
You are the one that showed me the most valuable of experiences,
the highest of joys, watching a smile on a pure and beautiful soul.
I am forever in debt, and will always repay you."

the sun rays, through the patched window, shimmered his tears of happiness

"I am forever in debt, for you are my only claim to glory."

Why smile?

2010-05-14T05:14:00.000-07:00

I little kid was sitting with his dad in a bus going towards the central part of the city. He was observing the people around him, and saw them in their own world, looking at their hands, looking at their iPods, looking at their books, and gazing into distances.
It was normal for the little kid to see that, but his mind still wondered why so.

The bus stopped to drop people and pick up new people going the same way. The little kid was staring at the people passing by, trying to find a different face, trying to meet another's eye.

A young man stopped at the front of the bus, standing, with his earphones in his ear, just like the others, the little kid thought. But the young man looked different to the usual people he sees, darker skin, hairy face and head, and he was nodding his head to his music, it seemed for the little kid.

The little kid was confused, and even more confused when the young man looked at the little kid and gave a great smile towards him. The little kid turned to his dad and asked "Why is that young man smiling?", the dad didn't understand, and looked towards the young man, who was still smiling, looking outside the bus' windows. "Because he is happy, aren't you happy?" the dad requested with a monotone voice.

The little kid stared at his dad's answer and questioned "I am not smiling, does that mean I am not happy?"

Made out of Two

2010-05-08T07:00:00.001-07:00

A little boy once sat on his bed, wondering with curiosity and confusion why wouldn't people understand the religion he follows.

To him, it makes complete sense, to him, he wanted to experience the judgement days and fight the evils, side by side with the holy man. He knew the truth, and the only truth.

That little boy sat in front of screens for hours, getting excited from killing artificial monsters and internet invaders, watching a civilisation being built, dreaming of creating one of his own.

Nothing mattered to him and his friend, but to win this game, and reach a feared level.

Glory came from a button click, a shout comes, the screen shakes.

Lose is a misery, killing his puppet is worse than an uncle dying.

I came back to that little boy's room today, I saw in sadness how his life still exists.

Revived by his friends and family, they still call him to check if he's behaving or not.

I saw his friends fight for a game on a screen, I saw him and shivered, those feelings coming back, playful violence is just a theme.

He saw his family buy without asking, without knowing, doing thinking they are helping, shouting at workers, frustrated from ink on paper.

"Here, read this, you will get 1000 virtues, and this will give you 4000." I shook my head, and said "I prefer to sweat and learn, than receive worthless counted praises."

I saw then that my body was stuck between two cultures, two people. A little boy that needs his family to survive, and a person trying to create change in everything he does.

I am stuck between two cultures, two people, one i grew up with, and one I am coming back to.

Burning Village

2010-05-04T03:37:00.000-07:00

I watched, through a moving picture, as a village came closer and closer to my view.

The village was engulfed with orange flames, and I can see it burn slowly from a distance. A sense of hope emerged undetected in me, a hope of escape. A hope of all that was haunting me from that village is gone now, all that weight that I couldn't bare nor face.

I instantly felt a sharp jab of guilt stab into my heart, even though the hope of escape was blissful, I still did love that village and it's people. I do appreciate the nurturing it gave me. I do thank for creating who I am.

But still, I felt I have moved on, forgetting all those deeds, hoping I could repay them through helping the rest of the world. The stab of guilt was not enough to break through my forgetting black heart.

This is my reality. I have left what created and evolved me, and I have had no choice but to do so. To follow my heart, is a hard task to do.

As I approached closer to the burning village, I realised it was indeed alight, but minus the burning. My hope was gone, and I knew I had to face it now.

Face it now, or never in this life.

Remembrance Of A Long Dead Art

2010-04-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

the art of Random.

an art that is a life style.

a life style that is a life.

the art lost to the now constructed cities and societies, lost to the organized events and dinners. The art of Random is an art of no thought about "what to do next, in 3 hours, tomorrow, the week coming, and in a month". The art of carrying nothing but a train of thought that lights and darkens every moment, every second.

The art of Random was a sub-conscious creation, where a human that lived in a forest didn't have much to do but walk around, look around, climb trees, dig holes, and hunt food. A world where every moment is what we need to think about, no past, no future, but only survival and moment-self-entertainment.

Try this, walk in a street you never walked, and turn into another street you never walked, and by doing so for a while, you will run into unplanned events and un-manifested experiences.

Sit down near a person and smile, walk into a shop and say something that flashed in your mind, jump into a puddle of water/mud, eat an unknown leaf, high-five a branch, do a dance while walking for 5 seconds, pretend you are invisible, or even eat a 2 hour long breakfast.

You don't plan to be random, just do it when it pops in your head.

City Among Critters, Prologue

2010-02-22T16:44:00.001-08:00

Living by yourself in the wild? I thought about it a lot, for a long time, but something stopped me. What’s the point? I asked myself, humanity will keep going down no matter what I do, there is no point getting “enlightened” when the rest of them, or the vast majority, are lying to themselves, saying “This city is great.”

But I figured out that they got no choice, they haven’t heard of any other city, they haven’t seen a city in a jungle or a city under the sea. They have only seen it in their imagination, dreams, and screens. The dream of living in a beautiful perfect city is just that, a dream.

I don’t blame them really, the same way I don’t blame people following a new religion, when they got nothing to live for, or something to live for that doesn’t really make sense, what else would they do but join the new religion when it gives them truth of what the fuck is this world is on about, even when it’s of myth and magic.

What are humans if they have got no story to follow?

A question that appeared in everything I read and heard, every time I see a person following something, to me, really dumb, I understand why they do it. The story.

The story that will not only give you purpose in life, not only give you an “ultimate truth”, not only give you a reason to be a good person, but also immortality. Don’t we all wish we were immortal? What is the point, you might ask yourself, of living, if the only life time you have is just a lousy, fast-paced, up-and-down 60 years. I am going to heaven, fuck yes, I love that idea, I don’t want to shut down, I don’t want to live again and again in the same ball of earth, i don’t want to float around as a ghost watching people for eternity, hell no.

And that’s why I got a story to write, not a religious one, nor a mystical one, nor a-way-to-live one. A story for the hell of having a story, a story that will take us in a journey, period. Doesn’t matter what the story is going to end up, if it will ever do, all we care of is the journey.

This story started with a blog called “City Among Critters”. The philosophy of this blog first started with the pure need of whining, whining about the city critters I lived among, critters I looked down upon for being the stupid living creatures they are. Stupid in the sense of having so much possibilities, but never exploring even 2% of them. It was a whine about the shit city system we live in, in the way we relay on food imported from a town I never heard of, or luxuries from a country I always hear of, yet not from an environment I live in.

Why waste energy, power, and time on something you won’t be able to depend on all the time? I asked an architect friend once, and heard no answer but the usual “That’s the way it is, and it works.”

So here is the unusual story, a story not of myself, but a story seen through me, a story for everyone to account about. Don’t take my advice, take my opinion.

Shapeshifters - A Theory of Supernatural Humans

2010-01-27T23:10:00.001-08:00

Where people try to find magic and mythology, they forget they can find it here, right where they shit and speak, their self.
Where people want to disappear into the land of energy and power, they can't see that it is here, right where they sit and walk, the universe.

Today, I claim there is such thing as Shapeshifters, maybe more accurately be called Personality shifters, but for mythological sake, and avoiding the use of bad sounding names, we shall call them Shapeshifters.

Who are the Shapeshifters, and what can they do?
Shapeshifters refers, in the mythological world, to a person that can shift his/her shape into another's, sometimes into an animal, or an elemental form.
Basically, someone that can change their form to whatever desired, or however their ability limits to.

In the "real-world", Shapeshifters are persons that are able to change their personality representation, without putting on a fake mask, to better suite the person they are communicating to. Simply put, they can make everyone comfortable with them if their ability extends to maximum human capabilities.

Of course they are constrained by only the people they meet around them, Shapeshifters take certain attributes of those people and transfer them into their's, secretly. By doing so, the other person can almost see a mirror of himself, or a mirror of what would be comfortable for him/her, and feel safe and secure around Shapeshifters.

Please do not confuse Shapeshifters with ass-kissers, for they still reflect themselves, but because they are a flexible being, and their self is a secret and complicated thing, they have no cares of changing small things in them to better illustrate and communicate their ideas and talks with others.

Sounds scary? Such power can create a dangerous being. But you must release for such being to become a Shapeshifter, he/she needs to be on a high level of awareness and consciousness, therefore they won't easily use such powers to gain superficial needs.

The most frustrating of all, you're almost unable to learn their true self. And with Shapeshifters themselves, sometimes they lose the understanding of their true self.

It is a power with a double-edge.

Zombies of Amber Forest

2010-01-20T00:31:00.000-08:00

The zombies wore white gloves, looking indifferent to humans.

They walk again out of the forests, just like their God walked a 1,000 years ago.

Today, on the human Day of Death, a celebration and remembrance of the fallen knights of Vatricka, the zombies have come after many centuries of observation of the human race.

Today, the celebration shall become a day of moaning and sadness, they, the damned and wicked have become the wise and the swift, they, the zombies are no more the mindless corpses their ancestors have been, they have learnt to replace their corrupt conciseness into a clear mind.

Kadli, the elder of the zombies, still remembers the story his master told. The story of how Tashig, The Saviour, have replaced his corrupted brain with a human's one. The Wise Tashig was lucky to find a Zombie Scientist brain to replace his own. He has chosen a number of fellow strong built male zombies and attractive swift female zombies, and, by killing a number of intelligent humans, replaced brains of brothers and sisters with theirs.

The Saviour has taken the 20 re-birthed zombies and the rest of his race into Amber Forest. The foolish humans, happy to have survived the zombies' plague, never touching the leaves of Amber Forest, were ignorant to the powerful enemy growing behind the forbidden trees.

Tashig with his 20 followers have sacrificed the rest of their race, unable to control or save them. They have first used them to scare and kill any curious humans, and when the human leaders marked Amber Forest a forbidden land, they have used their fellow corrupt brothers and sisters to repair their ruined faces and to fill their empty stomaches.

The zombie race was never one to carry emotions, their curse was more a blessing, for they had the guts to eat their fellow brothers and sisters for the greater good of their race. And that made Tashig a God to the newly born race of zombies.

Now it was time for Kadli to fulfill his God's prophecy, with Tashig's shadow over his shoulder, he shall revenge the zombie race for their years of suffering by the human monsters.

Today, the sky is black.

Where is the point?

2009-12-03T00:45:00.001-08:00

He asked, "Where is the point of explaining things unexplainable?" But there was no answer, he was waiting for someone to scream the known to him, the hidden, but there is no one around.

He dragged the pen through the paper, wounding and bleeding the white creature with black inked blood that spread all over the poor thin white creature.

The white creature was white no more, the black inked blood has made the black creature.

At Last He Writes

2009-11-30T00:32:00.000-08:00

His hands was shaking once more, "YES!" he screamed, "Thank World I am back again on tables and papers." He talked to Nafsi, the ghost behind him, while writing excitedly about cities and destruction, orange and robots, creatures and ladies.

"maybe you are writing too many things at one time?" whispered Nafsi, to the now blurry figure of Lupin, who was writing like a a machine generated by 1000 volts of pencils and supported by 2000 kgs of thick white paper. The papers were flying everywhere in the sun-lighten room.

"I am doing fine, I have many to write, so why not splash it on?" spattered Lupin with his fast-pace talking, still writing and changing pencils every 5 human minutes.

The ghost stayed in silence, he knew he won't be able to stop the madness, although he also knew that the madness will fall as fast as it rose, "suit yourself..." Nafsi said what he always said when he was hopeless of Lupin.

But Nafsi didn't know one thing, how will the madness fall.

The room suddenly started to tremble, Lupin, shocked, stopped writing and looked for the source, Nafsi check outside the window "nothing seems to be happening outside." The tremble became worse and worse, the space around them falling down and morphing. Lupin glanced at the papers and saw images swirling from them, buildings and robots started to enwrap him.

The world around him started to change, the images once created by his writings, have turned into realities around him, he fell from the chair and disappeared in a deserted land.

He looked up to the sky, and saw small square shapes falling down. "i warned you, sir." Nafsi's voice echoed in his mind, and was gone.

i am drunk, high, and aware.

2009-07-19T15:00:00.000-07:00

"you know, this isn't working for me at all!"
I yelled at the strangers in front of me while sipping cheap wine from the glass.
I knew at that point I am high, three shared joints were enough to make me giggly and cheeky, but I was planning to get drunk, I wanted to get drunk to experience that feeling I have seen for numerous years... two years.

The whole night I was stable, even read one of my pieces with excellent performance despite the noise of chatter, until I yelled that, then I knew I was on my path to sick drunkenness. That did not stop me from drinking more of the cheap wine.
"Sure it's not, you can't even stand still!" drunken Louie replied to my statement, so i defensively said "True, but that is not the drunkenness my friend, it is but only the effect of thy weed, indeed!" I laughed inside realizing that I am talking poetically, and I loved it!

I tried not to laugh when the stranger told his other stranger friend that he is shitfaced. Steve, that's the name, the shitfaced guy, that was his name! "You are right Steve! pills and acid are shit, nothing like the green!" I was excited to remember his name, I did not care about my argument. "No man! the things you imagine while on acid are amazing!" the stranger said "or even mushrooms." "See with the mushrooms I don't mind, because it's grown, it's natural. All this acid and pill crap are weird chemicals man! unnatural!" Steve replied a wise one that made me node so fast, I had to stop after 3 seconds before I fell. It's starting now, I knew it, I'll just take my last sip of the cheap wine and let the feeling carry, I just had to experience it tonight, had to, I was the experiment.

But I had to stay aware, I had to point out everything I did. I thanked Jess for the wine, and announced to the audience "Time for me to visit the toilets!" and swayed my way through them, "Are you alright man?" the stranger asked, "Yea dude, I just need to empty my small bladder." I was as good as you, I said to myself, why would you ask me that question? I understood those mindless drunk people now, and their annoyance to that question. Of course we are alright if you stopped asking me! If I wasn't, I would probably say so, why let shame and honor stand in the way? We just have to accept we are not feeling well, and even better, announce it to people so they might help, if they are able. I stumbled on the way to the toilets, and laughed out loud, how ironic of what I just said.

Got to the long line of toilet-waiters and frowned "You guys all waiting to the toilet?" what the fuck did I just say? That sentence made no sense, but they nodded their heads, all they needed to hear was "toilet", and they understood.
Talked to a random girl, and entered the toilet, emptying both of my waste products. Such wasteful beings we are! Not just by actions and words, even by surviving this weird world.
I heard a knock on the door, gotta get back to my senses, to my morals, I hate making people wait... do I? Yes I do, fucking get up! Clean your shit and get up!
"I'm almost done!" I claimed to the knocker, flushed the toilet and ran away from the toilet, back to the stranger, Steve, Louie, Jess, and that french dude, who passed me another joint, took two puffs, and left the scene.

I was pretty dizzy at this point, everything moved too fast around me, everything was unfamiliar and weird, I have to sit, "I need to pause" i whispered softly to myself, a guy gave me a weird look, but I had no cares for his opinion, I wouldn't probably even when I am sober. I went under the Queenslander house, where all the sick and dizzy minds sat on couches. I found an empty spot on a couch near a sick girl siting on my side, Max? I think that was her name... "Hey Max! How was your night?" I tried to ask casually, realizing I used "was" in my sentence instead of "is", who cares anyway, she probably won't remember, "Alright" she said, but clearly is not, she didn't care that I remember her as someone else. "Oh wait, you're Anna, Tim and Bek's housemate!" I realized "Yeaaa..." she replied un-passionately , trying to say "Shut up, it's not the time for small talk."
But my superficial mind kept going "Sorry, I thought you were someone else! There is another girl that looks exactly almost like you! How crazier is that?" She gave an uninterested giggle, and that's when I realized I need to shut up and that I am going to vomit very soon at some point, at last, I thought, my system will be partially cleared from the two evils.

Another girl came and sat near me, trying to comfort Anna "How is your night going?" She asked me, "Very interesting actually, and I am going to vomit soon." I bluntly said with a smile on my face, "I might need some water to help the process." Had no idea if it would, nevertheless, got up, went upstairs, filled an empty beer bottle with water, after cleaning it... I think... and went back to the couch where the girl, Elise, that's her name! this water is helping, I took another sip. Anyway, Elise was on Anna's side now, I threw myself beside Elise, "Would you like some water?" I think that's what I asked Elise and Anna, Anna said no with her head, "Nah I'm fine, is it helping you?" Elise asked considerably, "Yep, for sure."
So we sat in silence for a bit, the silence of waiting, waiting for the vomit to escape, there was a dude standing near Anna, I think it's her boyfriend, whatever, it's that annoying blond girl again, that said Townsville was shit to a girl that lived there, talking loudly again, just 6 feet away from the couch. Fucking hell, I will never approach such girl even if I am drunk and high.

"Can you hold this for a second?" I suddenly asked Elise, the sober one, "Nah, I am fine." she thought I was offering the water again, "No, I am going to vomit now, can you please hold it while I empty my wretched stomach?" I laughed inside a bit, handing the bottle to her and turning towards the ground behind the couch, "Here we go." and the evil spirits started escaping my aware mind in the form of acidic liquidish pasta with tomato sauce, cheese... feta cheese, sundered tomatoes, and oily olives. Paused for 2 seconds, and then again came out the evil spirits that tried, but failed, to take over my mind, that tried to snap me into the darkness, and return my brain in the morning.

They failed, and will always fail, because I am drunk, high, and aware.

All was gone, I turned to see the girls have moved to another close couch, fuck it, who cares, that was then, and this is now "Neat, all is well and done, can I have some water please?" I asked Elise with excitement, she laughed and answered "Sure! That was really good aim man! good work!" I shrugged with a smile, and drunk some water from the bottle Elise handed me. "Small bladder calls again, gotta visit them toilets again." I announced again, there was only one toilet, but I kept saying toilets, I think its fun. "Good aim dude, see ya!" Elise's voice echoed in the background, and I saluted blindly in reply.

Arrived at the long line of toilet-waiters, a girl, I forgot her name but I knew her before, asked "How is your night?" that question again, but I have a different answer this time "Pretty good, I just vomited!" "Eh, that's bad." She replied, "Nah, it's actually pretty good, feeling well after that." She probably was smelling my drunk breath when I said that "Yea, it's good like that." Bree, that's it, Bree said.
I smiled, and took my turn in the toilet, faster this time, "Wow, that was very quick!" Bree stated when I came out "I usually am, small bladder." I replied with a shrug while we swapped positions.

I went back to the couch, and I still needed to sit and observe people around, Alan was siting there now, the dude with the lamp hat that switched on (using a switch in his hands) whenever he made a sound from his voice box, "Hey dude, how you doin'?" I asked, throwing myself on the couch beside him, sinking into a black hole. "I just took acid" he said, "Woo ow man, how does that feel?" I asked smoothly, "I dunno man, its pretty strange, it's like I'm in another dimension, and everyone is......" His voice started fading away, the black hole was pulling me down, pulling me into silence, pulling me out of reality. I couldn't move anymore, I couldn't hear anything, everyone was starting to get blurry and wavy, what the fuck? ah it doesn't matter, maybe I need to sleep now, just here, on the couch, it's quite comfortable, Alan can talk to himself, he'll be fine.
No more, no more, no more...

Then she appeared, the angel that saved my awareness, the angel that pulled me out of the black hole, the darkness that will only come back when the sun rises. Everything was in slow motion, her movement and her lips, she was the only thing focused in my vague sight. Shannon, one of the few angels on Earth, a higher being living among pathetic humans. Her voice faded in, "Do you want to go home now?" I heard her ask with a concerned face "Yes!!" I said excitedly with a huge smile.

wistfulness and happiness

2009-07-19T01:33:00.000-07:00

i came through a door of light, left behind a dark room, and saw shining souls.

there were questions on their faces, smiling happily but thinking deeply.

i didn't, i was blank, no more i can see through the mind, not anymore i can understand. such a strange feeling, confusing, yet calming, relaxing, flowing.

so i came back to it, came back to reality of talks and smiles, came back after a not-long-enough silence, that sucked me into fantasy and imagination.

i saw and smiled back, these faces beaming with love and compassion, never before i saw.

they came to me when i was wistfully smiling, sad to go back to chatter, yet happy again that i can hear, and i listened forever and ever.

but in reality, there is nothing forever, always changing, always passing away, anicca, anicca, anicca, always in the state of impermanence.

metta metta metta, my life was filled with metta, love, surrounding my head, body, and legs, surrounding my heart.

but my mind was sad, sad to see such things go back, such ignorance to exist, among all the rest.

not of people who i was with, but of the souls that lived years and years before and will live ahead.

for those souls are not truly souls, they are a collection of sankharas that lasted ages and never were crushed, collection of reactions, positive and negative.

i still can't get it into my head, these connections i got, those beautiful people i met, and you came back.

why do you keep coming back?

yes you, you who understands my mind

yes you, you who breaks my charm

yes you, you who takes care of the child

yes you, you who does, but means no harm

yes you, you who had a broken heart

and came to me to fix that part

hahaha, am i going crazy? or are you repeating yourself?

trying to find a person that i will connect with, without wanting dispense?

i wish you would stop coming back, but i do love your presence. am i craving?

because i don't want to, Goenka said my sankharas will start multiplying.

but i can't stop thinking about it, the idea of a person i would love without raving.

as long as impermanence exists, i will forever wistfully smile, alone, until my day has come.

because to live, is to die with a smile.

anicca, anicca, anicca.

mindful awakening

2009-06-25T07:36:00.000-07:00

It was a night of soft rain and chilly wind. The café was crowded outside with people, listening to the music that relaxed their busy minds.

He had to go down the wooden slope to get to the toilet, the wooden ground was not protected from the rain and his shoes had a slippery base.

It wasn’t a good idea to run down that wooden slope, when he slipped, it felt it took hours for him to hit the wooden ground, it seemed strange and unfamiliar that movement of time. He had time to think of it, to think of how his accident will change the night’s path.

He imagined it, falling and smashing the wooden ground, breaking his back, neck or shoulder depending how his body reacts and uncontrollably jerks to choose the least important and safest part to break. He would gash a scream that shakes the building and drives people’s head upward, jerking from side to side, trying to find the flying monster that will soon end their life,
the life they loved.

But he would release a loud moan, loud enough for the people to know its source.

“Over there! Down the alleyway leading to the toilet!” One man would say with relief.

“Thank goodness it is not my day to die…” He would think, running towards the now constant moaning of
the wounded man.

The one man will find him lying down, unmoving, on the wooden slope. His friends start to gather, worried about his health and his forlorn hope.

He wouldn’t move, “he looks like he fainted.” She would say, hoping that the worse is not real “Call the ambulance!” His friend would respond, trying to be the hero that saves his friend from the near death, but not actually calling the ambulance himself, too busy attending the wounded friend.

“Don’t move him!” She would yell at the wounded man’s friend, “He might have a broken bone! Just wait for the ambulance to arrive!” Everyone by now is crowded around him, in the small alleyway leading to the toilet, wanting to see the fate of the wounded man, waiting for the climax to hit the top and reveal the secrets they never knew, but always pursued.

He imagined the ambulance coming and clearing the small alleyway leading to the toilet, pushing mindless corpses away and throwing them behind, trying to save the wounded man, and only the wounded man.

His imagination breaks when he hits the wooden ground, it was finally the time for his long fall to end, to end his life, and for his imagination to become true.

He probably only spent a second lying down on the wooden slope, there was no time for him to release the wounded shout, there was no time for him to think, his body jerked upward intuitively, his imagination was false, his reality was nothing he perceived, his reality was the total opposite, his reality was challenged.

He didn’t understand his perfect stability and reaction at first, he was amazed, he was mesmerized, by his body and the ability to survive that fall with no harm. His mind was floating around the empty space, trying to grasp anything that can make sense of his situation. He stood there frozen, shocked, and unaware of his surroundings.

Suddenly, his eyes started to get bright, his smile started to appear and grow every second, grow so big it covered half of his face, he didn’t just grasp anything in the space that was once empty, but he also saw everything.

He saw everything around him and everything in life that his eyes glowed so bright, his eyes glowed with an intense chroma of yellow light, like a shinning sun in a clear sky, like the sun itself looking downwards on all living on Earth.

The night was no more, the light he had made it clear, even clearer than a burning room, he could see every detail of the physical world around him, all the small cracks on the wooden slope, withered by the changing seasons
over the years.

“Such weak thing you are.” He said solemnly to the wooden slope, “Unable to hurt me, unable to hold yourself.” He thought about the years he withered and pained, to reach a dream he couldn’t gain, but he always stood back up, he covered the cracks and gained resistance for his surface shall not be scared again.

And on that he exploded into laughter, a laughter that shock the world around him, a laugh that made everything tremble from the power he possessed, the power he already had and just discovered.

A laugh that trampled every object around him from the fear that they carried; that fear of being unable to reach the power he had, the fear of staying a weakling
all their life.

He laughed because he realized how pathetic his imagination was, how he expected people to run for his help when he already knew he was dead, he laughed at how he was dependent on people to save him from an inevitable death, how he thought people would truly help him, when all they were trying to do is comfort themselves; comfort of the idea that there was no flying monster that is going to take away their precious life, with their precious clothing, their precious hat, their precious breath; their beautiful face, their beautiful hair, their beautiful soul.

He laughed because he realized they all had that power he possessed, they all knew how great they were, but they never grasped it, they always questioned themselves, questioned their true self.

He laughed so hard and so loud, so whole-heartedly, his eyes turned to amber, still filled with brightness, but it is a different brightness to the sun’s, a brightness of wisdom and the soul, the brightness of mindfulness that is foretold, the brightness of knowing the truth.

He looked up the alleyway, there was no one looking down, no one that dared to get up from their seat of comfort and their drink of relief, no one that dared to see the power the laughing man possessed, no one that dared to see such power exist.

The evening’s darkness came back, a silence he never heard before arose, a silence of fear and anticipation, a silence of all existence that heard the powerful laugh. His smirk never left his mouth; he walked up the wooden slope, with a grip that crushed the wood’s spirit, a grip that vanished the color it bred, a grip that no physical power can move or slip.

He reached the opening, where no one has moved at all, no one has changed their seat; no one has drunk their drink. It’s like he just entered the alleyway leading to the toilet for a split second and returned.

But this time all eyes were turned to his, all eyes uncontrolled by their owners, all eyes filled with fear, anticipation, shock, and they were fixed; fixed on the power that shock their belief, fixed on the energy that changed chatter to silence, fixed on the very eyes that glowed like a pure amber in a dark cave.

He scanned around, looking at those fixed eyes, that wanted to close and cry, that wanted to turn and look away at a cruel world, but they couldn’t, they had no control any more, the power the laughing man possessed was mesmerizing, the power the laughing man discovered was like a magnet that couldn’t help but be pulled by its opposite.

He scanned around with his smirk, that grew with every eye he met; every time he pulls them closer, he thought his smirk couldn’t get any bigger, but it did, it grew bigger and bigger until eventually it broke into a wild laugh, a laugh that seemed possessed by a demon from their perspective, their cowardly weak perspective.

But he knew the laugh; he knew the power he possessed, the power that didn’t possess him, the power he controlled. He laughed upon their wrong perspective, their cowardly frightened perspective.

He laughed because he saw the truth in their eyes, he laughed because he dug through their superficial layers, he laughed because he saw who they truly are.

He knew the question that dug deep into their head, he knew the question they wanted to ask so badly, but couldn’t have the courage to ask, he knew they just wanted to shout “What is so funny?!” He knew they just wanted to cry out “How can you laugh in this horrid world?!”

And he knew they would never ask, he saw their ego telling them that this is just a stage he is at, that at some point his smile and laughter will vanish, that he will realize the reality of their world, the reality that will sink him back into himself, the horrible reality that will bring sadness and unrest.

But he knew better than that, he possessed the power that possesses them; he overcame the superficiality that enslaved their hearts, he overcame the slime that covered their mind, and at last he told the question that stirred so deep in their soul, afraid and
unable to emerge.

“Why do I laugh?” His voice echoed like they all asked it with their eyes, and he paused for a second, for them to realize that he knew them more than
they knew themselves.

It seemed like hours have passed, trying to grasp something in their empty space, until he finally answered, they held their place.

“Because,
You all are beautiful people, but you reject it.
You all are unique and special, but you resent it.
You all are loving and peaceful, but you cover it.
You all seek conflict and survival, but run away from it.
You all have the power, but you’re possessed by it.”

His words swirled in the air, but he didn’t see any reaction, he didn’t feel that he answered their questions; he didn’t feel that he fulfilled their anticipation.

His laugh’s echo faded, his smile started to mutate, his eyes lost its brightness, and his body lost its grip and floated in the air.

It wasn’t because he was sad, it wasn’t because he lost his mind; because he understood it at last, he understood his imagination, he understood their selfishness and fear, he understood they are humans, they are earthlings, they are living beings.

He looked back into the alleyway leading to the toilet and said to the wooden slope “You are not weak, you are filled with wisdom, the wisdom of death.”

The wisdom that cannot be understood by the living,
the living that he is not.

He walked back down the alleyway, back to his spot.

i swore

2009-01-14T05:01:00.000-08:00

"i need to avoid relationships"

that's it, i just said, with my lips

it is sewing too much delusion

and its always slips

left my french friend

smiling with relief

that no more, i have to pretend

my arms for people, i will extend

i took a turn and stopped

thinking i saw World pointing at something i dropped

but i didn't look back, i stared

at the blue eyes against mine, flared

i couldn't remember her voice

i couldn't remember her size

i didn't really have a choice

her eyes were honest skies

days come, and days piled

her friendship always smiled

but to the first line, i was hostile

i knew the situations

but thought it was worthwhile

i read once, that accepting your love

towards someone that has a different dove

towards someone that didn't feel ties

is love acquired by the wise

and i learned from her

that if someone hears your heart

and still accepts your part

that is someone you cherish, a lot

and i was, i did

i said it to her twice

"i greatly value our friendship"

i don't need to seek the relationship

but i swore

i will not fall in love once more

until that feeling again comes fore

dream of reality

2009-01-06T12:57:00.000-08:00

a pink explosion

suffers my eyes

internal implosions

rips my thighs

emotionless is the way to go

for peace and harmony to grow

my face receives a fist's blow

"wake up, wake up"

"this isn't wonder land"

i stand, he spits

"this world is made for man"

i refuse, i kick

i shout: "i am sick!"

i punch and flick

an image snaps, 'click'

i look at the discarded photo

i see a person dismissed

with "dream" as his motto

with eyes that said

he knows, but doesn't

he sobs, but within

his core, is burning

his doors, left broken

i threw the photo

it broke

into tiny pieces of mirror

reality is not clearer

a strange place called home.

2008-12-13T00:36:00.000-08:00

I came down the plane
my head goes to pain
all memories clicked
all images snapped

now it felt that i just left for a week
the sun, the wind, still bleak
the eyes too, of people

even though this place seems familiar
my feelings are massively unfamiliar

the people, the smell
the weather, the blend
the road, the side of the road
the food, the drinks

again i am lost in this space
i thought "home" is not this sand
when home is a strange place
then "home" will tag another land

in beautiful chaos, opening passage.

2008-12-05T04:57:00.000-08:00

I left at last, left behind the friends and people i knew today, last week, last month, last 6 months, this year.

I only talked for the first 5 minutes with the taxi driver after waving goodbye to them, then I fell into silence, fell into my head, disappeared into my dimension.

I remembered her tearing eyes, my tightening throat, her shivering lips, my vacant stare. I remembered when my eyes teared for the first time in years, I can't even recall the last time my eyes teared, even when my grandmother passed away and my father, whom I never saw cry, falling into my mother's shoulder sobbing over his mother's death after 2 years of her being in a coma. Even when my uncle died, I did not feel a shred of sadness.

But that sadness conquered me. "How can I love someone so much, without an idea why, with no control of, but not be loved?" I asked, "she does love you, as a friend", "But why don't I feel it's enough? why do i still have hope?" I remembered her being silent after that question and shrugging, "the expectation of being loved back is dangerous." nafsi whispered like he was talking to himself, to me. "Yes." I said without resistance, "but it is still there." I nodded.

I felt it again, that sadness, I was looking through the taxi window, looking at the sleeping night streets, the sadness that wrapped around me like a black blanket, the sadness that spilled from her tearing eyes.

It was not only my confusion of love towards someone which stoned my vacant eye, the feeling of actually "i am going to miss this place, those people" was shooting at me too. I could not understand that feeling, the same way I could not understand why I did not feel any sadness when I left home for the first time to go to study in Australia for the next 3 years in 2007.

And now after 2 years in Australia, 1 year of self deception, 6 months of religious and spiritual challenges, and 6 months of awakening (to what, I don't know yet), I felt like I was abandoning a village I lived and loved for 20 years. "you will be back", but I have no idea if I would, that factor depends on my parents' reaction to the truth of how I am right now, and how I changed since they last saw me, "9 months ago." I exhaled with exhausted agreement.

"We are here." The taxi driver's voice snapped me back into (the so called) reality, nafsi left.
I payed him the fair, got my luggage, and entered the airport. After 15 minutes, I left the airport with even more confusion, I missed my flight, I was going to stay for 9 more days in Australia.

purple flower virus

2008-10-08T06:35:00.000-07:00

beautiful purple flowers

filling days with love's power

on trees, their energy empowers

falling gently on streets every hour

bright purple flowers

with calm light in my heart

i look at trees and towers

i seek no other part

as i walk, i think

this purple flower virus

made me no longer sink

made my expectations no more desirous

i left the time of future

and lived the time of now

there is no more vows

brilliant soft gentle calm purple flower

thank you for enlightening my soul

back to Being.

a soft light

2008-08-27T06:23:00.000-07:00

i lost hope, when chaos came

i thought i am lost, no one to blame

being in myself, i didn't know what i became

i thought IT will never come

but the moon is not the only light

that keeps me guided at a black night

a soft light now, shines so bright

that i can't describe, neither i can write

i thought "no, it's another mind trick!"

but with my heart, i can not pick

i'm confused, but i won't let it beat quick

i don't know, to be happy or sad

i can't find a way to add

the confusion fades

i can only gaze

into these eyes, i daze

a soft light apears around the street

i stop,

the empty alley

2008-08-17T21:25:00.000-07:00

i walk through roads
beyond the broads
i walk in tides
only in my mind

i look at the pole
and the digging mole
i see the art
in different parts

i pass the night streets
in the void fleets
there is nothing around
except ghosts and ground

i walk to the valley
through the empty alley

a voice whispers in the dark
don't act like a shark
or listen to the loud barks

smile and surrender
to peace, you shall not plunder

i stride away in silence
love in my heart, not violence

funny how things change

2008-08-17T06:11:00.000-07:00

i used to hate it

now i breathe it

i don't understand it

but its life, take it or leave it

i wanted to fly between buildings

i dreamt of building

now i write for those siblings

to build a future worth for their livings

i felt ecstasy and lust

all i wanted is to thrust

currently, i feel peace and just

i don't want to combust

in the fire of disgust

in the flames of the unjust

i see more light

i see more plight

i am no longer afraid of height

i just want to fly a kite,

not to fight

funny how things change

how clear things become strange

living a life, i need to arrange

a peaceful death

2008-08-15T12:10:00.000-07:00

breathe, keep breathing

awake, no sleeping

imagine, don't stop dreaming

smile, always beaming

look into the world

don't stop for a smoke

listen to what is been told

don't stay in one block

hear, even if you don't agree

believe, to a certain degree

have faith, but don't decree

truth will set your spirit free

compassion will create your de

tolerance will make your eyes see

a peaceful death

is not a myth

be good, take a breath

blue fires

2008-08-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

what are they

what do they see

those cold blue eyes

those haunting phantom mimes

what do they see

through that clear sea

what do they imagine

among that wide margin

who do they inspire

with those blue fires

nothing but me, everything around me

thoughts of the coffee singapore girl

2008-08-14T08:21:00.000-07:00

she sits with her parents, interested of what they say, amazed by what he explains

but she still looks around,

the english, the chinese,

the malays, the indians,

the business man, the school kids,

the friends, the couples,

the old, the young,

and that stranger,

he doesn't look from here, with his interesting different look,

his black low hat, who is he,

why is he looking towards me and write in his little notebook,

what is in that book of life

i guess the only thing i can do is imagine, live the moment,

smile back, and laugh the present

a brighter contrast

2008-08-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

there is only one path in our life

we don't go back

we can't alter the past

we don't look sideways

there is no other cast

learning from mistakes

we look for a brighter contrast

look into your heart

find your path

help yourself, to help others

a kid with a plane to malaysia

2008-08-14T08:16:00.000-07:00

he has no cares

his eyes glitter for the unconscious future

his imagination is that of an artist

his observation is that of a scientist

his smile is that of an actor

his mind is that of a writer

he is a traveler, yet he is 5

a kid with a plane to malaysia

the darkness inside

2008-08-14T07:39:00.000-07:00

"the yin-yang is true" he says

how much more can be said

where every evil has good

every good has evil

people say i am a good guide

but inside, is a different tide

running through my vein

trying to drive me insane

when the sun fades

and the moon blaze

and the void replaced

there comes a new perception

of destruction, death, and corruption

not for those i love

but those i am sick of

those backstabbing materialists

perusing only their self-interests

the darkness inside

taking over my pride

i need a soft light by my side

a path, i take

2008-08-10T04:22:00.000-07:00

behold and be found

i don't know who i am

i search this land

for a rooted stand

i don't know what is right

i don't know what is a plight

i don't know who to fight

i don't know when to stay white

where is this world taking me

where is this door leading me

i guess it doesn't matter in the end

i guess i don't need to know this bend

there is something in my wake

there is something up ahead

telling me to stay and look

at the people, you will not lock

a path, i take

a person, i wait