Adversity Breeds Creativity

In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriage
With blue cushions.
We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in wait
In each soft corner.

You will close your eyes, so as not to see, through the glass,
The evening shadows pulling faces.
Those snarling monsters, a population
Of black devils and black wolves.

Then you’ll feel your cheek scratched…
A little kiss, like a crazy spider,
Will run round your neck…

And you’ll say to me : “Find it !” bending your head
- And we’ll take a long time to find that creature
- Which travels a lot…

Arthur Rimbaud

Days pass softly like

butterfly kisses on warm sunny days.

Subtle prose and peculiar reality

spar unknowingly

beneath a canopy

of technicolor laughture.

This is your time.

These moments define you

and I

in ways that literature

cannot

touch. Lets toss our pens and

allow

another form of magic

to sweep our frame

“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What’s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating…

…and you finish off as an orgasm.”

Vikrim says

Indeed. words are just water from a stream.

[ Ђ ε ª ŋ ] says:

that we are fortunate enough to grasp in our hands for even a moment and identify it’s beauty

Vikrim says:

to share amongst friends with either our bare hands or makeshift containers

 [ Ђ ε ª ŋ ] says:

For in our we hands hold our entire existance – the love, the loss, the pain, the joy

I watch the waves assault the pristine shore and couples halphazardly frolick in the sea, bodies thrown about like tumbleweeds, and I barely notice that time stops

I sit suspended with a bikini full of sand, a lukewarm beer at my side, and that damn pen eternally in my hand

Earth is a different place when you travel alone

While it’s at my fingertips with my trusty Aspire, I feel layers of superficiality shed like epidermis

Slowly, at first, but almost aggressive now. The worries held on these broad shoulders just yesterday feel distant and obscure

But with such vigour I held on

Like the soul within my rib cage relied on assurance for my physical body to move independantly here

So I remain in a land where time means nothing, where the syllabels in my name cannot be pronounced and where I have absoloutely nothing to prove – except to myself

I try and refrain from personal cliche’s, yet this certaintly cannot be denied – I will not return the same woman as I left

So when a pair of blue eye’s sang of a world on a string I finally feel at piece with the hands holding my own

Some say the world willend in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice

~Robert Frost

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and nec…essary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. “

–Dead Poets Society

Drunk on romance

or the memory of our

bodies pressed together

in the guise of dancing

Synchronized steps mimicked

similar smirks

Exchanged melodies

in transit

Welcomed euphoric flutters

like soft fingertips

caressing supple lips

Transcendent moments

enveloped in your arms

Tidal waves

wash across my frame

each time

your aquamarine gaze

meets mine

“Mom said that people are interested in birds only inasmuch as they exhibit human behavior – greed and stupidity and anger – and by doing so they free us from the unique sorrow of being human… I told Mom my own thoeory of why we like birds – of how birds are a miracle cause they prove to us there is a finer, simpler state of being which we may strive to attain.”

- douglas coupland

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” – Jim Morrison