Ha nudkie yado maxa Ya..
Hivenu muin Ha onye.
Xüwe t'aknu Ha kuné malnue ejla.
Poj ki, Ha zak ju.
Chijuma te, miyäyu istan ju maha yama?
Ha vutenae hina'a nö aleu yui.
Yabu, Oki sishum k'aula Ha juk.
Anö.. Yuk'wima na oki auwanami ijan..
Kä! Aztevi za mohérsa ke mi kétén nia !
Ya e bukunde ju..
Ha ketune ovuin xelö iknun la ke ajasan..
O'i va meyuwi gon ju..
Han hitvae ba kétkén arva yö kuné koyrnoe Ani mala.
Nön Aze mikafüe ba muwür'u..
Sani inzu azte ye muwür'u.
Xelö.. Han hina'a ke komeyu vialen.
Hina'a gana bukunde ju.
Oki va k'léne hae nemyat Ha
Poj ki Xüwe arnuke ju.
Ha k'léne vlöne zak Ya.
Poj, Ya su yteino ju.
Ya za dejamiö ta vutyr hae te.
Vénte ki Ha de'g'takme Ya xüwe unmat?
S'te ki Ha malnue yado yama?
Han haju hina'a vialen gana bukunde ju..
S'te ki Han azte yado haju yakor'a Ya vialen?
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 23, 2010
Defalcated Innocence
I have words to say to everyone; every man, woman, child with able-enough mind, and "tri to octo" genarian alike.
You all are to blame. Your hands have resulted in the plants that have been seeded and sown. The very plants that have procured prodigiously throughout your crude fifty years of maintainence. For such a time, your destructive seeds have grown into such plastic creatures; a beauty. For such a time, I have been born just 18 years ago in a hospital much in cohesion with every hospital on the facade of Gaea. For just some time, my seeds have been growing and sharing with the selfish ingredients of Gaea a wonderful spectacle.
These very selfish ingredients, being the various homo sapiens of this cosmic domicile, Earth, are to blame for each tidbit of my suffering, each malignant emotion, and every kilo that is my whole; one kilo for every nanogram of matter that composes my vessel. Selfish ingredients are parts of a complex soup that tend to take advantage of other ingredients. A soup is a perfect embodyment; a perfection of taste and delight. Selfish ingredients are those rotten who take control of the bowl and alter the flavor to their liking. These ingredients, so mixed together by the chef, are ordained within the bowl for the sole purpose of perfection.
Let's imagine that the Chef is the divine, the bowl is Earth, the restaurant is the universe, the soup is Life on Earth, and the various spices and ingredients within that soup exist as the various species of earth; more so placing importance at the dominance: homo spaiens.
For 18 long years, I have known and seen pain.
[ Here was an entire 400-word paragraph of multiple accounts of which included the very true historical testimony of my pain. I omitted said paragraph because no one is ready to hear my story. One day, I will formally share with the world these accounts. For now, the Internet can know what's merely on my mind. ]
I have seen pain and I know pain. I know pain so well that pain is my friend. It has been advocated all throughout history to know thy enemy much like you would a friend. I know Pain like how wonderful I feel when I experience the pure pleasure in ejaculating to bondage.
This vessel knows so much and has experienced so much--yet it is all smitten with adolescence. My experience is about as ubiquitous as "Peace on Earth" is, and what truly flabbergasts me is that these very selfish ingredients advocate that pain is a weakness leaving the body. They also advocate that wisdom knows only that which has endured for some time. Time is a continuum; it goes on and on and can be copied and separated into its own domain so one can study it; looking at a timeline. Within 18 years, I can experience everything from trauma, to abuse, to neglect, and so on. In 30 years, one can experience none of it. Said trigenarian knows more than me because said trigenarian is older and has "experienced more than me."
I have much "growing up" to do! As far as one conforming to irrelevant insults that intrigue me no longer, stating the obvious is not an insult. I have much growing to do, so much in fact that I cannot even fathom it... but what truly baffles me is how one has been divinely blessed with the eiphany that is knowing which direction my growing should proceed! I'm truly misunderstood here. Where the direction of "up" has come from, my brain knows no logic thereof. I cannot possibly fathom how stating the obvious has become the typical insult between an intergenerational relationship, nor can I fathom why I must grow "up". I fear they're relying on the intelligence that plants grow upward, and since that direction has proven so successful for them, the insult is to be more like vegetation and less like a human. I think that's a compliment--seeing as the oldest living creatures of Gaea are trees.
I must conform and disengage myself from being "different". Who or what is smartly different? If beauty were the ugly of this world, what then would the vain do? What could be done to fix the vast amounts of people who would purge themselves of their once-beauty to conform to this new accepted hideousness as the repalcement for true beauty? One tries to play on negatives and positives to try and prove a point, but one point cannot be proven here--the point is very obvious: people will remain the same and fall back on the norm because it is their ensconcement.
In a bowl full of ingredients that choose to maintain through existence as a selfish ingredient because of what other ingredients are doing, one can only see the black upon a field of white, or the white upon the field of black. In a vacuum, nothing can escape or enter. I propose that society is a vaccuum. Nothing can escape or enter, but everything within it can change. In a sea of shallow water, it is easy to spot the one oil spill--that one social defect; that one social mishap.
If I am the oil to your water, then I will fight indubitably to discombobulate--no--to hinder you further. If my existence must be made crude, imperfect, disease-ridden, ill, negative, dark, forsaken, a nuisance, pathogenic, carcinogenic, "different"... then I will strive my most to be myself only to spite you; to hinder your waters. Only through true pain can true peace be epiphanized and then appreciated. My innocense, much like the purgery of my own insecurities so that I too could conform to escape the agony of being "different", was defalcated in such a revolution that Gaea herself couldn't relate to. This vessel is smart, but tired. I am tired and I am jaded of these selfish ingredients.
Dear Recipients,
Please sow your seeds' manifestation because they're no longer gifts of Gaea, but demons of defalcation. She let you have free will and look what you've done to her. You are all selfish ingredients. You have all defalcated my innocence into a bank account that no longer exists. There is no way to return what has been embezzled. Through my time, I have discovered friend and foe--of which I am thankful to have known. Our Mother is angry; Gaea is angry and she will show her disposition. Like Prince Escalus said in The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, "All are punishéd."
You all are to blame. Your hands have resulted in the plants that have been seeded and sown. The very plants that have procured prodigiously throughout your crude fifty years of maintainence. For such a time, your destructive seeds have grown into such plastic creatures; a beauty. For such a time, I have been born just 18 years ago in a hospital much in cohesion with every hospital on the facade of Gaea. For just some time, my seeds have been growing and sharing with the selfish ingredients of Gaea a wonderful spectacle.
These very selfish ingredients, being the various homo sapiens of this cosmic domicile, Earth, are to blame for each tidbit of my suffering, each malignant emotion, and every kilo that is my whole; one kilo for every nanogram of matter that composes my vessel. Selfish ingredients are parts of a complex soup that tend to take advantage of other ingredients. A soup is a perfect embodyment; a perfection of taste and delight. Selfish ingredients are those rotten who take control of the bowl and alter the flavor to their liking. These ingredients, so mixed together by the chef, are ordained within the bowl for the sole purpose of perfection.
Let's imagine that the Chef is the divine, the bowl is Earth, the restaurant is the universe, the soup is Life on Earth, and the various spices and ingredients within that soup exist as the various species of earth; more so placing importance at the dominance: homo spaiens.
For 18 long years, I have known and seen pain.
[ Here was an entire 400-word paragraph of multiple accounts of which included the very true historical testimony of my pain. I omitted said paragraph because no one is ready to hear my story. One day, I will formally share with the world these accounts. For now, the Internet can know what's merely on my mind. ]
I have seen pain and I know pain. I know pain so well that pain is my friend. It has been advocated all throughout history to know thy enemy much like you would a friend. I know Pain like how wonderful I feel when I experience the pure pleasure in ejaculating to bondage.
This vessel knows so much and has experienced so much--yet it is all smitten with adolescence. My experience is about as ubiquitous as "Peace on Earth" is, and what truly flabbergasts me is that these very selfish ingredients advocate that pain is a weakness leaving the body. They also advocate that wisdom knows only that which has endured for some time. Time is a continuum; it goes on and on and can be copied and separated into its own domain so one can study it; looking at a timeline. Within 18 years, I can experience everything from trauma, to abuse, to neglect, and so on. In 30 years, one can experience none of it. Said trigenarian knows more than me because said trigenarian is older and has "experienced more than me."
I have much "growing up" to do! As far as one conforming to irrelevant insults that intrigue me no longer, stating the obvious is not an insult. I have much growing to do, so much in fact that I cannot even fathom it... but what truly baffles me is how one has been divinely blessed with the eiphany that is knowing which direction my growing should proceed! I'm truly misunderstood here. Where the direction of "up" has come from, my brain knows no logic thereof. I cannot possibly fathom how stating the obvious has become the typical insult between an intergenerational relationship, nor can I fathom why I must grow "up". I fear they're relying on the intelligence that plants grow upward, and since that direction has proven so successful for them, the insult is to be more like vegetation and less like a human. I think that's a compliment--seeing as the oldest living creatures of Gaea are trees.
I must conform and disengage myself from being "different". Who or what is smartly different? If beauty were the ugly of this world, what then would the vain do? What could be done to fix the vast amounts of people who would purge themselves of their once-beauty to conform to this new accepted hideousness as the repalcement for true beauty? One tries to play on negatives and positives to try and prove a point, but one point cannot be proven here--the point is very obvious: people will remain the same and fall back on the norm because it is their ensconcement.
In a bowl full of ingredients that choose to maintain through existence as a selfish ingredient because of what other ingredients are doing, one can only see the black upon a field of white, or the white upon the field of black. In a vacuum, nothing can escape or enter. I propose that society is a vaccuum. Nothing can escape or enter, but everything within it can change. In a sea of shallow water, it is easy to spot the one oil spill--that one social defect; that one social mishap.
If I am the oil to your water, then I will fight indubitably to discombobulate--no--to hinder you further. If my existence must be made crude, imperfect, disease-ridden, ill, negative, dark, forsaken, a nuisance, pathogenic, carcinogenic, "different"... then I will strive my most to be myself only to spite you; to hinder your waters. Only through true pain can true peace be epiphanized and then appreciated. My innocense, much like the purgery of my own insecurities so that I too could conform to escape the agony of being "different", was defalcated in such a revolution that Gaea herself couldn't relate to. This vessel is smart, but tired. I am tired and I am jaded of these selfish ingredients.
Dear Recipients,
Please sow your seeds' manifestation because they're no longer gifts of Gaea, but demons of defalcation. She let you have free will and look what you've done to her. You are all selfish ingredients. You have all defalcated my innocence into a bank account that no longer exists. There is no way to return what has been embezzled. Through my time, I have discovered friend and foe--of which I am thankful to have known. Our Mother is angry; Gaea is angry and she will show her disposition. Like Prince Escalus said in The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, "All are punishéd."
Jul 14, 2010
Love is Pain
I know something wrong with this body.
There are pains inside that make no sense.
I try every day to make my own way.
I never knew what was so wrong.
Do you know that my soul is grasping for straws?
I want to breathe but I know that I cannot.
I really want your love.
I'll do anything to get it here.
I want you near. Oh I fear.
I fear that you weren't made for me.
Do you care that I'm screaming in this song for you?
Do you know, there are people in my dreams who say,
You're not my true love.
You're not my way.
There is rain pouring from the ceiling.
I am wet with agony, I know now,
That you weren't for me but I tried too hard.
To make you my man.
To change the stars...
I feel there is a lightening bug.
Trying to teach me everything it knows.
To tell me that I'm wrong.
To show that I'm wrong.
To help move on from the agonizing blows.
Do you even care?
Do you really know how I felt?
I tried so very much to make you mine.
I'm a fool in love with a tool.
I can only use you now.
There is no voice, no heart, no choice.
You're not real, and you never were, you lied to me.
Blasphemy, do you know the tears that I have lost?
I tried so hard to leave you by yourself.
But my soul kept coming back for more~!
I was in love with a phantom that died.
I know there are rainbows on the other side.
For me, there is an awakening to see.
Without you in my life,
I am better off.
Plenty people witness the agonizing pain of love.
It hurts too much, it feels like burning skin.
You never know what to expect from the above.
So listen well and follow your love.
Never let them down, never try to cause a fight with them.
Or you will disrupt the flow of everything.
These rules are set in stone, so that lovers never fade.
But one false move, and your heart's removed.
Love is pain, know what to expect if you can.
Don't you try to change what's been written.
If it's fate, let it fall in place, Or you,
Will disrupt the flow and hurt your soul.
Love is pain, don't you dare try to change a single thing.
If it was meant to be then it would surely be.
Love is beautiful if you find the one.
Don't give up searching.
Don't let this one bring you undone.
There are pains inside that make no sense.
I try every day to make my own way.
I never knew what was so wrong.
Do you know that my soul is grasping for straws?
I want to breathe but I know that I cannot.
I really want your love.
I'll do anything to get it here.
I want you near. Oh I fear.
I fear that you weren't made for me.
Do you care that I'm screaming in this song for you?
Do you know, there are people in my dreams who say,
You're not my true love.
You're not my way.
There is rain pouring from the ceiling.
I am wet with agony, I know now,
That you weren't for me but I tried too hard.
To make you my man.
To change the stars...
I feel there is a lightening bug.
Trying to teach me everything it knows.
To tell me that I'm wrong.
To show that I'm wrong.
To help move on from the agonizing blows.
Do you even care?
Do you really know how I felt?
I tried so very much to make you mine.
I'm a fool in love with a tool.
I can only use you now.
There is no voice, no heart, no choice.
You're not real, and you never were, you lied to me.
Blasphemy, do you know the tears that I have lost?
I tried so hard to leave you by yourself.
But my soul kept coming back for more~!
I was in love with a phantom that died.
I know there are rainbows on the other side.
For me, there is an awakening to see.
Without you in my life,
I am better off.
Plenty people witness the agonizing pain of love.
It hurts too much, it feels like burning skin.
You never know what to expect from the above.
So listen well and follow your love.
Never let them down, never try to cause a fight with them.
Or you will disrupt the flow of everything.
These rules are set in stone, so that lovers never fade.
But one false move, and your heart's removed.
Love is pain, know what to expect if you can.
Don't you try to change what's been written.
If it's fate, let it fall in place, Or you,
Will disrupt the flow and hurt your soul.
Love is pain, don't you dare try to change a single thing.
If it was meant to be then it would surely be.
Love is beautiful if you find the one.
Don't give up searching.
Don't let this one bring you undone.
Jul 11, 2010
Faith Leads To Love
And he ran like the forest as it grew.
Faster and faster, he knew.
Words like a breeze blowing past his knees.
Pounding through the air as he ran without care.
Knowing all was well inside.
Never could his mind coincide.
Only if he knew what he was meant to do.
Only if Her love would pull through.
In that moment he ran as if to impress.
Oh how he knew the power of his goddess.
What more could he have asked for?
It was the last he could ask.
The power inside no more.
Outside of the surrounding flask.
Closer and closer, he felt he was near.
Faster and faster his mind thought with fear.
His anxiety and emotions seemed to swell like a wort.
And as he grew closer, he could not report.
It, that day, was like a phenomenal day.
The incense lit, he held no dismay.
Power in his palms, it rained like May.
Blood whizzing past his veins inside.
Oh how his veins did cry.
They wanted to be unleashed, his mind knew well.
The blood that was spilled there, nothing would tell.
A single word would never be said.
The convenant that was made like a sacred bread.
Effort and knowledge poured into He.
Every motion played with awoken sensory.
A symphony of words and a pinnacle of light.
Never could a mortal dance with such a plight.
He swooned his magic there and spoke to Gaea so fair.
And she came with awareness and approved.
This mortal in front of his altar, took and removed.
His last spell of love, a feeling so astounding.
A moment of delight and yet fear, it was pounding.
God how I wished inside to feel her again.
Gaea and Aphrodite, did you love me in the end?
He begged and pleaded and asked for a wish.
Oh how it came true, never could it miss!
With for so long as a red burned light.
Ever so true, the stars no fight.
They whispered and waned, they felt his cry.
That solemn wish among a sea of eyes.
All these humans, yet he was prioritized.
Moved to the front, almost victimized.
Yet Gaea worked with Aphrodite on his destiny.
He ran as fast as the way was known to be.
Inside his mind were the blueprints to love.
He challenged his body, kept a steady pace.
Even though he was tired, he wasn't out of faith.
And he thanked those peculiar beacons of light from above.
Soon, it was speaking to him in boughs of voices.
Soon, they said to him with ominous sounds.
Soon, he'd be riddled with very many choices.
Now, it was time for him to reach holy grounds.
This love, this joy, this beautiful world.
All a fantasy that he had unfurled.
Because he trusted the power of his hands.
Now he had in his sight, all of his demands.
And so he looked and waited to see.
This darling man full of mystery.
Thank you Aphrodite for acknowledging my pain.
And Gaea, too, for allowing this to ordain.
Let your magic pour and shelter me with your gift.
Now, for as long as I am, I will never drift.
We are one like all, and all like us--Thank you.
Faster and faster, he knew.
Words like a breeze blowing past his knees.
Pounding through the air as he ran without care.
Knowing all was well inside.
Never could his mind coincide.
Only if he knew what he was meant to do.
Only if Her love would pull through.
In that moment he ran as if to impress.
Oh how he knew the power of his goddess.
What more could he have asked for?
It was the last he could ask.
The power inside no more.
Outside of the surrounding flask.
Closer and closer, he felt he was near.
Faster and faster his mind thought with fear.
His anxiety and emotions seemed to swell like a wort.
And as he grew closer, he could not report.
It, that day, was like a phenomenal day.
The incense lit, he held no dismay.
Power in his palms, it rained like May.
Blood whizzing past his veins inside.
Oh how his veins did cry.
They wanted to be unleashed, his mind knew well.
The blood that was spilled there, nothing would tell.
A single word would never be said.
The convenant that was made like a sacred bread.
Effort and knowledge poured into He.
Every motion played with awoken sensory.
A symphony of words and a pinnacle of light.
Never could a mortal dance with such a plight.
He swooned his magic there and spoke to Gaea so fair.
And she came with awareness and approved.
This mortal in front of his altar, took and removed.
His last spell of love, a feeling so astounding.
A moment of delight and yet fear, it was pounding.
God how I wished inside to feel her again.
Gaea and Aphrodite, did you love me in the end?
He begged and pleaded and asked for a wish.
Oh how it came true, never could it miss!
With for so long as a red burned light.
Ever so true, the stars no fight.
They whispered and waned, they felt his cry.
That solemn wish among a sea of eyes.
All these humans, yet he was prioritized.
Moved to the front, almost victimized.
Yet Gaea worked with Aphrodite on his destiny.
He ran as fast as the way was known to be.
Inside his mind were the blueprints to love.
He challenged his body, kept a steady pace.
Even though he was tired, he wasn't out of faith.
And he thanked those peculiar beacons of light from above.
Soon, it was speaking to him in boughs of voices.
Soon, they said to him with ominous sounds.
Soon, he'd be riddled with very many choices.
Now, it was time for him to reach holy grounds.
This love, this joy, this beautiful world.
All a fantasy that he had unfurled.
Because he trusted the power of his hands.
Now he had in his sight, all of his demands.
And so he looked and waited to see.
This darling man full of mystery.
Thank you Aphrodite for acknowledging my pain.
And Gaea, too, for allowing this to ordain.
Let your magic pour and shelter me with your gift.
Now, for as long as I am, I will never drift.
We are one like all, and all like us--Thank you.
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