Back again with some words to feed you.

So here I am back at square one. Well no, it's more like square minus 547596546541. At the moment, my life is a soothing gondola ride. I'm not searching for that missing piece right now, even though it's still missing.
I was when I wrote that article about the inert around 3 weeks ago.

But right now, as I see the end of another school year approach, and as I feel summer come back to life, I still see grey. I'm not depressed, but after spending time with other people and joking around, I still come home and put a few ideas on paper (less dramatically on word documents).

I'm trying to write new articles, to put up on this site anything that comes to mind, but like before, everything comes easier in poem form.

And so a poem was born out of the grey I see.

I write a lot, articles, songs, poems...the lot! I don't share much of it. I share some of my songs with my band mates, and, if we're lucky, it becomes part of our musical catalogue.
But apart from that, I like to keep my ideas for myself...and for all you faceless, anonymous beings that are reading these very words and the many thousand words I have written before.

I feel like sharing this poem because I didn't think about it while writing it. It just came pouring out. It was only after re-reading it days later, that I became proud of it.
It's pretty vague to be honest. I'm not the kind of poet that expresses a distinct feeling or experience.
That's too easy.

I prefer writing down words that go with what I'm feeling, and then let the reader interpret it to go with what he is feeling.

And remember, this isn't the product of a depression. I'm a happy person. I love my family and all my friends. This is just something that crossed my wild mind, and that I want to share with you.

So here it is:

Common Existence

I feel the stone in my soul, the shouting doesn’t stop
Twilight shines on rotten roses as rough hands die
Will they communicate, find what’s wrong? I think not
But I can see the strings controlling the puppets,
From where I lie.

Cleansing something that won’t be admitted strikes me
As full moon fever keeps me aware of the pain
Standing up costs faith for the prey, but I won’t flee
But laws of nature say, even if I try to soothe the sting,
I’ll only leave a stain.

So why try? The wolf has howled and left the mice to die
I will wait ‘til the next full moon to sing my song
Defying the kings and queens, making the aces cry
Black and white will know a steady gradient,
When they realize they’re wrong.

So for now, I stay down, don’t say much, just look sad.
I stay down, let it flame, let it bleed, let it die.
Watch them whine, drown the sound, let them bite, I stay down.
A common existence, I’d shut it down, if I could
But I stay down, keep cover on the floor, I stay down.

The leaders, the inert, and the free.

We all dream of something blissful. The complete height of whatever you're looking for. Whatever seems to matter. Whatever you want to matter to you. We all dream of becoming one with your passion, in what you believe in most.

Music can do that for example.
And no, I'm not talking about all the shit that's played over the mainstream radio. The simplicity of radio songs is sickening.
The average human being, I'm sorry to say, will not have a passion. Will not believe in something deep. He'll see the world in black and white. He won't see the truth: that everything is grey. He won't know that only you can spread your colour over it. "Good", "bad", "evil", "nice" are purely relative phrases meant to turn life in to a tally chart.
But life isn't a simple choice between right and wrong.

Simple people are too numerous. They're the ones who will listen to music that doesn't deserve to be music, like Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kesha and other bullshit. That's not music. It's not from the heart. They don't live for it. They live with it. They gather their money, puke every night after Vodka number 59.

Rock isn't like that.
Rap isn't like that.
Rock is a spiritual, passionate, musical masterpiece. When you rock out to bands with passionate lyrics. You become one with what you crave, and it's not a naïve song that can give you that. No. Rock dwells deeper in the absurdity and sadness of human nature. It dwells in all those fucked up things that traverse your head, except for they express it with beautiful music.
Some lyrics of rock songs are so deep that they make tears well in your eyes. The truthfulness and reality in them is striking. They unplug you from the matrix of radio/party songs. People have lived for rock. People have written all the crazy experiences they've gone through. The anger. The pain. The grief, but also the happiness. And they have put it into something beautiful, although it can be aggressive, but still beautiful.

Listening to bands that sing from the heart (I won't list any because there are too many) deserve to be listened to. It doesn't compare to the mainstream, ignorant crap that's played to the mainstream, close minded population.

Rap plays the same role as rock. It expresses all the pain and anger gone through an individual, and it's put into rhyming poems that are stringed into a rhythmic, intense, musical voyage. And I'm not talking about Top 40 rap. Fuck that. I'm talking about real rap, just like real rock, from the heart.

I praise that music. It fills me. Keeps me up when I'm feeling down, and down when I'm feeling up. It keeps me balanced.

Because life is all about balance.

Depression will hardly get anyone anywhere, but light-heartedness is just as unhealthy. The unwavering knowledge of being on earth, trying to find a sense of purpose through all forms of art, is what truly matters. That is what truly defines a mature being.

It's a never ending chase with purpose. We will never seize our sense of purpose. If we did, we could all just drift away in meaningless crap, and be happy for nothing.
But since our sense of purpose is unatainable, the people who flee in front of that chase, will drift too far into crap, in complete inertia.

It's a shame that so many people are stupid. But if everyone was chasing a sense of purpose, then we would have found it, and we could all live happily ever after...or more like happily never after.

People will try to escape the chase with purpose with religion and other spiritual rituals. It's cowardly, since the people at the head of those spiritual compounds are bastardly enough to take advantage of them.
In fact, everyone is being used. Used by the uncontrolable need of staying with the closed cluster that is the mainstream. Used by the need of escaping the unquestionable truth. It's easy.
Only the people who have passion are free.

(As a side note, I just realised I could also be conditioned into telling you this. But at least I was conditioned meaningfully and truthfully.)

Everything easy is meaningless. That's why we chase our sense of purpose...endlessly.
Only the people who truly see the thousand shades of grey, and not black and white, are the real people here. They can think on their own. They know what living means. Trying to grab at every spot of happiness, while keeping a track on infinite perception and purpose.

Too many people aren't like that. They'll use the stupid argument that it isn't simple. Rock and rap aren't simple, but they're meaningful. Meaning is hard to admit..hard to grasp, but it's the start on the path to purpose. It's the beginning of the journey you must take to discover your true essence. The fuel that keeps you going in this world. Your sense of purpose. And it's not by making a trip to spiritually and religiously symbolic places that you will find meaning and purpose.

It's by going to places where free people have been, and have made a difference.
Or even better, going where no one else has been before.

Meaning is hard to find.

People have gone mad trying to find their true purpose. Religion only helps to blind other people from that. Politics accomplish that same diabolical mission. All these "easy" life conditioners leave most of the globe inhabitants motionless, used, and left to drift into infinite inertia.

Reconsideration.

I started this to be more truthful with something or someone. Am I doing it?
Fuck.
All the fancy words make it nice to read. I'm just putting some mascara on the truth. Whatever fucking truth is out there. Or in there. My head. My goddamn head.
Just speak whatever's in there. It won't hurt the internet's feelings...
I'm doing it wrong. It's good I know. It's nice to read. It's deep. It's solemn, but the unquestionable and undeniable truth. Wait is it?
You dickhead.

I'm too afraid I won't live up to myself. I am myself. I'll live up to whatever is alive. Whatever gives the experience of living some meaning.
What the hell am I supposed to live up to?
Not what makes me happy. The world teaches you that.
So what is it?
I'm not writing it down.

Not here. Not yet.

Now it's time for raw words. Whatever's there. Fancy words make up the dressing. That comes later.
If I make this blog into a journal. I will not fucking put this in. No. There's all the real articles I wrote for that. Fuck it.

I'll be better.
I sincerely hope that for changing your ways, 26th time is the charm.

There's a freight train coming my way.

Note: I'm sorry I can't write as many articles as I used to. I've had a lot to deal with lately, and even though my mind is foaming with ideas, I can't bring myself around to calmly writing a decent article. This is the best I can give you now.

I don't do this often. Actually I've never done it. Today's article is going to be a poem. A poem I wrote. It draws it's inspiration from the pain and anger I felt after I found out my girlfriend did something wrong, she betrayed me, and now I realise she is probably only attached to me for the physical part of our relationship. It was just a freight train coming my way, but it still takes me aback. It pins me down on the railroad tracks as the train approaches...

I usually think teenage love and everything around it is pretty shallow.
It applies to me now, to the teenager I am. I still think it's shallow, but it itches, aches, hurts. I was going to write a full length article about it, but it came easier in poem form.
I've written articles about trust, time and how it affects people, happiness...the world in general. And now, those articles couldn't feel more real. Every word of it now stares at me in expectancy. That reality struck me harder than I thought.
It threw me back, and I had to re-evaluate my ideas on life, and put my entire persona back in the shadow of doubt just to come out with this mysterious (yet the subject and message are both easy to capture) poem that I present to you now:

Timber

Next time maybe she will think
Before close is to become closest

She never smokes or even drinks
But her jewelry wants some more
So cross out the gold miner’s eyes
He won’t deceive her but he’ll try

Because the guilt claws at his core
He will scratch it ‘til it’s deepest
And shun the reason ‘til the sky
Low before, will glow bright again

Songbirds cry in the dawn
Until the forest is clear
She won’t know when
To foresee her fall
She’s speechless, mute
He’s burned alive

Next time maybe she will think
Before closing off the closest

Now she shakes, ever regretting
But the dearest, never suspecting
Will never realize what she’s done
Because the love is there but gone

Next time maybe she will think
Before shutting off her own bliss

But now the stars will stare at her
And she will cringe because she knows
When the screaming trees collapse
The mute can not shout: "timber".