Amongst the Butterflies.

Lie with me a while
Down by the bed of roses,
Settle down beside me
And remind me of the stars

Wonder me with those eyes,
The palest blue and greenery
Hold me close to the skies
Watch the stars gaze down lightly

Follow my call in silence
I beseech you to be mine
Standing by your side Everes
My heart is lovingly thine

Bleeding Earth.

If you were to stand on a satellite orbiting the earth, everything would look like it’s at absolute harmony, the deep blue oceans scattered with its masses of brown and green land with cloud blankets hovering above them. Nothing would seem out of the ordinary except when you start to descend down towards it and touch down on the ground. On the surface is a totally different story, one of devastation and destruction.

Earth is in danger of losing what sets it apart from other planets, the existence of life. With everyday that goes by, some feature of earth or form of life is threatened of its existence by the phenomenon of global climate change and the avarice of man. In our callous pursuit of riches, we have abused our earths resources, endangered its inhabitants and raped the future of life.

Everyday, animals are affected as their habitats are lost to modernization, trees are cut down without remorse, skies are saturated with toxic chemicals and yet nothing significant is being done to stop it. Though we maybe the smartest species on earth and at the same time the dummest, to have engineered our own destruction, we are lucky to have realized what we have caused.

We seriously have taken for granted everything we should spend so much time taking care of and conserving. Even now as your reading this, your using electricity that maybe generated by means of a thermal power plant which pours pollutants into the air every second thereby contributing to global warming. Has that ever occurred to you?

So now we are at a crucial pivoting point to what will become of life to come. We can either change our ways and counter climate change or we cant just let it be and rape the future for those to come after us. The choice is obvious, we have to stop the pollution and end the abuse of our earth because without earth there is no life.

The earth is bleeding today because we have abused it with our so-called change. So if it is change that started this, then it should very well be change that should end it.

Happy House.

I want a house in the hills,
with pristine views of the skies
and the forgotten mills.

I want the linen on my bed,
to speak to me in riddles
and leave me with stories worthy of pickles.

I want a stone fire place,
with skewers made of iron
and a fire that mimics a dancer’s grace.

I want my cutlery to be happy and queer,
with mismatching colours of the rainbow
to leave my guests puzzled with cheer.

I want the sunshine and I want the rain,
and when you walk in through that door,
I want you to blink back in amaze.

JAMES BLAKE.

I love the mess of it. The search for harmony. And the autotune as an art.

Enjoy!

An Analogy even the Gre couldn't Think up.

losing a piece of myself. losing you. losing my identity. losing hope. losing anything... is akin to miscalculating something I know to be certain...

• walking, and over-reaching during a step. how could my legs falter like this? how could the right leg break out of formation this way? traitor.

• wearing heels and going to the home bathroom to check the mirror, reaching for the sink without looking, and grasping wildly in the air where you know for sure the sink should be. you would have staked your life on the fact that the precise angle your elbows took naturally was the correct angle to put your hand in line with the sink. you look down and see the increased height and realize the heels added length and distorted your mental map.

• driving in the snow, with all the expertise of a seasoned driver. you've had your license forever. you could maneuver through anything, you know the slight nuances of the car like the back of your hand... but the snow is an added variable that you could not account for. your hands are unsure. you are unsure of the way your car is sliding as if it had a will of its own. this creature you had tamed, understood, fed and trusted all these years is now a crazed monster on a self-destruction path.

• running down the steps you always run down. counting the familiar rhythm of the steps as toe then heel crash to each step. something happens, the rhythm is jarred, your steps are awry, you trip. you steady yourself against the railings... or perhaps sit, ego-stung, on the ground nursing skinned knees.

• closing your eyes to reach for that deep peace, and finding some kind of semi-vertigo effect happening: your body is weightless and at first, in the darkness behind your lids, you are swept back and forth gently as if by a passing wave. quickly then, you're pulled into one direction, then the other and it's like you're falling into an abyss, but in your own mind. at first, it's something fun, you try to maintain the feeling, but it slowly overcomes you and in fear, you snap your eyes open, surprised to find yourself safe on your bed, muscles tensed. and you're afraid, because how could you live all your life and not know about this dark hole in your mind? what if you hadn't regained control at the last minute, would you have fallen forever, cascading mentally and frozen physically for eternity?

Ah. The things I think of to procrastinate. I must depart.
Beautiful day people.
x

Some Deep Shi+

'in the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. in the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless [...]. do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads.

do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved but have never been able to reach. check your road and the nature of your battle.

the world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible... it's yours.'

ayn rand, atlas shrugged

So then.

I'm worried that everything will be okay. It constantly haunts me, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, where I can pretend that the dust has begun to build only because it's no longer of any use. I've come out of my depression, battered and evolved, but it's gone. I've settled into your average post-adolescent despondence; the worry of a relapse has long died. But what now? What happens? Am I to remain at this plateau indefinitely? I'm worried that I'll be okay, but not in the way that I want to be. Just that - okay. Nothing more, nothing extraordinary, no trembling nerves, no humming blood, mere complacence. I comforted myself with the prospect of eternal misery, but at least that had a fire. At least with that, I knew, or thought, I had a chance of somehow, someday changing that blaze from a harrowing blue to a glorious red. but I don't know what I can do with indifference. I don't know if I can function on it, on the remains of coal - worthless, feathery ash.

You see, before, I had an excuse. My tantrums were, if not verified, accepted. it was a battle, and in a battle, you release your claws. You fight dirty. You kick and you scream. Hey, throw a punch in if you want, too. But when you lose.. when you give it everything you've got and you lose, starting it up again is just you holding onto a dead, false prospect. It's you refusing to accept reality. It's your juvenile denial of defeat.

So what do you do now? Do you press on? Do you live within the restrictions of this new regime? Do you self-impose exile? banishment?

Really. Forget the self-soliloquies. Forget pointless words. What happens now?

I am the walrus.

I've always described black coffee as tasting like walrus feet. Now, I've never actually encountered a walrus, but books and depression have broadened my imagination's ability, and so, I transcend reality; I see things you would never see, and know things you will never know. And although I've never had the pleasure of a walrus's company, my vivid imagination tells me that should I ever, in fact, meet a walrus and by some curious chain of events, bite into his or her flesh, the taste would be reminiscent of a freshly brewed cup of coffee.

And yet, here I stand, morning after morning, and when occasionally the seasons alter my sleeping schedule and render me nocturnal, night after night, watching, with the unbearable spasm of an addict, as the ever luminous espresso machine pours its tears into my blue Peter Pan cup, offering me the satisfaction of the walrus I'll never meet.

Happy Friday Folks!

Twenty?!

I am no longer a teenager. Shocking that I discover this somewhat-well into my 20's right? But it has really hit me recently.
Did you know I am older than Kristen Stewart, Jason Derulo, and all but one of the girls on America's Next Top Model. Yes. Did you know that the UN's definition of youth is '15-24' I'm ALMOST NOT EVEN A YOUTH ANYMORE. F MY LIFE. WHAT SHOULD I DO!?
Somatic growth stops as 18.
Myelination happens the most during teenage years, so I will never get any smarter than I am now.
LIKE THATS IT. I am old. As in opportunity is NOT knocking anymore. As in I have one more egg left. As in grey hair and all that shmaz. As in scratch that epitaph into my tombstone.
Eff my life.
Anyways, that was my 'aha' moment on why I haven't been able to write anything. I over-romanticized every aspect of my life, abused the adjectives and the melodramatics to my heart's content, and now I am free- and depressed enough- to move onto my adult life. So I really should bid you all adieu, at least until I figure out what adult means. Maybe I'll be back in 10 minutes, maybe 10 days, maybe 10 months, maybe a decade. But seriously, I am lost now about everything.

A Girl Who..

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."
— Rosemary Urquico

If you're wondering why some of these old posts have resurfaced, it's because I was doing some editing and the dates got mixed up. That's all. Carry on, carry on...

From a straight road to a swerve.

My mind is bleeding with the realization of its captivity. It's inability to run free, to experience, to live like they do on silver screens, is haunting my every decision. Ignorance comes in many forms, the kindest of his masks, is the one that's always with me. My mind is blind to the most horribly annoying of things, and that is of a sub-conscience choice. An invited and welcomed ignorance if you will.

I have this closet in my head where I push away the unchangeable ways of politics, man, and religion. The things I have to accept, but that don't really make it through my senses are usually found in this closet. Imagine a Narnia type wardrobe. It's pretty and in a room by its lonesome. You see, that's how my closet looks like, pretty and alone, away from human parasites. Sometimes, I open this closet, and I weep. My closet is a horrible place. As soon as I close it I accept the ugly ways of life, but in those brief moments that it's open everything is unacceptable, there is no excuse. I will make a difference someday. No matter how small or insignificant, I'll make it.

Future, on your knees, man. We are coming, through the closets, all of us.

In a dream I was a werewolf.

You see things, I see a movie. This is how it always plays in my head. There's a movie reference in my pocket for every sentence and a lens for each hand movement. Close ups and black and whites, shots from a corner and a blurred background. Everything is nothing but a camera trick, illusions and magic mirrors- this is how I see things. This is what my mind sounds like, so listen closely, because the words may not make sense.

Post begins here.

From the beginning, as soon as you're born, you're like a wave crashing onto a shore. Some are more fiercer than others, and others, well, they're gentle and almost unrecognizable- these you generally overlook because you're waiting for the stronger ones. The ones that look like they can bust a bitch, you know? The ones that form caverns by the rocks, and ruin sand castles. We crave destruction, and that's why we like crash landing, because it means we've achieved something. The subtle waves that tickle your toes and give that sand castle of yours a moat don't really deserve a polaroid, or a cover page on the latest issue of The National Geographic. They're never seen, but they're the reason behind that soft smile or look of pride after perfecting the most awesome sand castle ever- though we don't even realize it.

A boy on a skateboard. A kid on a playground. A busboy cleaning tables. A car driving by. And of course, the girl that's reading a book, her hair ruffled by the light breeze, sitting cross legged on a bench, because that's what they look like in the movies. Right before the tsunami, tornado, or whatever natural disaster this blockbuster is about hits. Let's not forget, this is an analogy. We're talking about life and maturity and all that jazz. Behind this particular image and in the literal sense of things, this is the year when the kid still loves his mom more than his tiny friends, and eating ice cream; where he'd rather be held than run around turning tables and discovering that not everything is food. It's this scene, right here, for your entertainment. This is how we grow; this is what it looks like.

Then comes the actual storm. Where everything is rationalized and logic is twisted to justify the most bizarre of thoughts. Isn't that what kids are like, particularly teenagers? Dramatic displays of emotions, be it anything from excitement, contempt, or loathing. All rather theatrical really. We're all depressed, and there's no hope left. The world is out to get us. And no amount of positive, inspirational, and motivational shit can make us feel better, because hey "I'm different. No, trust me on this, I know nothing can change." We think that we're, to put it cheesily, the only exception. The wasted few, you know? That the universe has it out for a few people and we have the honor of being handpicked to represent premature wisdom. A bit conceited when I put it that way, eh?

That's why everyone's a smart ass, and when the storm eventually passes and they realize the reality of their messed up logic, they fade away into cubicles and become the workers of a factory that screws up the environment into another natural disaster.

Moral of the story: You are not special. You're not meant for anything great, stop believing everything you see in the movies. And more importantly, don't trust yourself- self-loathing is inevitable, hopelessness is a given, and society will always get in your way. Giving up, even when it feels so damn fucking good is not what you want. So again, don't trust yourself. Wait till the storm passes, it'll be when you're around twenty three, twenty nine or even thirty five. Whenever. So buckle up. It's a bumpy ride.

Mickey Mouse.

So Nigeria had me a little more focused on images
Rather than words but I am back for those who read anyways
I learnt quite a number or life lessons in just three weeks the last time I went
And I am here to just state some things about some distorted perceptions
ALL FINGERS ARE NOT EQUAL
I noticed in Nigeria, alot of people are OVER religious, to me that has become a problem and I will explain why
Religion is becoming the thing we fight that most, the devil in our lives
Filled so many lies and creating more problems than solutions
Most wars are as a result of some religious person's views on what is right or wrong
Taking souls in the name of whatever God they worship
It is one thing to pray and believe and another to act
A pastor said this prayer one day during a sermon ''i see 20 people here becoming millionaires'' And the crowd went crazy
You think you know a large church, mine is filled with over 500, 000 people, YES
I looked around me an knew for a fact that only 2 people in that crowd would be
And probably a 100 of them were already millionaires through the wrong way
And were in church for ''forgiveness''
People need to wake and realize religion is man made, hate it or love it
What matters are your deeds to your fellow human beings
If you are Christian and you steal and lie, laze around and take short cuts
You are only heading for the hell you avoid so much POVERTY AND DISGRACE

This goes for all religions
That make followers think that by following they have some divine advantage
For a fact, the richest people are not in anyway religious
But most have better values than most
Living life hurting older people in your endeavorer is wrong
WAR AND CORRUPTION are the main problems in the world
That lead to hunger, genocide and oil spills
Most people in their quest of richness are blinded
And it sickens me when I find out they are ''religious''
Everyone makes mistakes but if you perpetually in a lie
Telling your self ''I will stop once I get what I want''
You will never stop and praying for forgiveness after every act is madness

I heard a song talking about how the world is full of mickey mouse acts
Taking others for granted and treating your desire for riches and fame as prime
Not everyone can be rich but everyone can be comfortable and happy
Most ''celebs'' as you can see either end up dead or broke
Is that the path you want to take

Focus on being a good person on the inside
Rather than how you appear to others on the outside
Walk out the door without fear of being shot down
The president is not protected because he is so loved
Think about it some of his ''actions'' hurt people
All in the name of some greater good
WAKE UP, one day he will leave us all to the mess
Life has gone from being to short to being taken for granted
Watch war footage and if you dont cry, then you are the devil himself
Gunning down innocent people who them selves are idiots for picking up guns to fight
To fight a pointless war
It is one thing to protect your house from a criminal
And another to take a shot at a man you dont know

Man's everlasting need for the top is our timely demise.

Evol.

I have a theory: I think it’s easier to love the people who you know will never love you back, like celebrities or older men you see around, because they can’t hurt you on purpose. You can love them and give them your heart, but you do not trust them with it because you’re aware that they’ll probably break it. But you know that when you give your heart to them. When you they do break your heart, like when they kiss their celebrity girlfriend or hold hands with someone else, you can’t blame them, because they don’t even know they’re hurting you. It’s different from loving someone who loves you back. The piece of your heart that you give to them is breakable, yet you trust them not to break it. You trust them to protect it when someone else comes along to test its strength. And when you see them break your heart, it hurts so much more, because they know what they’re doing to you, and they do it anyway. How sad is that?

Concrete Jungle where Dreams are Made Of.

I want to go to New York. It's where I'd rather be. Just being there, doing absolutely nothing, and walking to nowhere in particular would put the goofiest smile on my face. The people, the skyscrapers, the hot dog vendors, and the ticket sellers. The scent of the sewers and the car smoke permeating the air, broken only by fleeting smells of salted pretzels, coffee, and sometimes even Chinese food. And in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep, I'll go up to our roof and listen to the sounds of the city. What was so poetic in my dreaming head will give life to nothing more than garrish sirens and aggressive car honks. And the stars I imagined to be canopied above me will dim in the wake of the city lights leaving nothing but the moon. Much like the myth of the city, only one will really shine. But the wind will carry the sounds back and forth and the night will blanket me in understanding. And though it'll amount to nothing I thought it would, it'll be the fabled Big Apple, the Grecian mecca of its time, a city with skyscrapers towering to remind us of our true size and alive enough to show us that it doesn't really matter.

The Butterfly Effect.

The flap of a butterfly's wings in Brazil can set off a storm in Texas. Isn't that amazing? Physicists call this theory "The Butterfly Effect". The breeze produced by a butterfly's wings could set of a series of reverberations that over time have a tremendous affect on weather patterns thousands of miles away. Imagine the effect of millions of butterflies.

Now bloggers and readers alike, if a butterfly can cause a storm thousands of miles away.
Imagine what impact we as a people can have United.

One Love. One Heart. One Voice.
Peace. x

Who.. Are You?

I used to do this thing when I was a kid, where I would just lie in bed, lift my hand up high and just stare at it for hours and hours. Partly because I had nothing better to do, but mostly just so I can think about it; how am I here, or if any of this was real. I'd focus really hard hard and wonder how on earth I was breathing, and where I am and I'd imagine myself watching me from space, the black nothingness and stars so bright, and say, hey, look at that, it's me: the speck. Is this a dream, and if so, whose is it? And if it isn't, then how is this happening? I would see all of this in my hand, for hours and hours, lost in thought, only a hand, I told myself- but what is a hand, really? And then I'd start repeating the word over and over again till it lost all meaning, and only after I broke that barrier that was my current understanding was I free to ponder, with no belief holding me back, what everything the world taught me was really me.

Someone made this, I repeated over and over, in my head, and out loud, it explained everything. And as a kid, I was told as much, but I was also told never to question it. God, that is. So I left it alone, but everything else was fair game, and the game always lead me to the same conclusion, which was god. And then I found myself questioning my inability to question god. I mean, if I believed in him wholeheartedly, why wasn't I allowed to just delve into that part of me that yearns to know, because it wasn't just curiosity, it was almost paralyzing, it was the reason I stared at my hand all day, and it's why I could do just that for so long, because I was told not to cross the line that was questioning god's existence, and so I stayed in mind limbo. Neither thinking or not thinking about, just lying on my bed, all day, and staring.

Fairy tales.

What about them?

They say they’re overrated, and they’re nothing but lies. This and that, and in a five worded summary, just plain ridiculous at times. But in reality, they really aren’t that far from the truth. Because however different the circumstances, by in large, the subtext applies to every aspect of our lives. Whether it be taken from a real life incident and tweaked for the minds of the young with unicorns and pixie dust or if it was just a subconscious thing. Simply, all fairytales are nothing but analogies to far greater simple tragedies in life.

But of course, we knew as much, because after all, we write what we know.

Take any Disney movie, strip it down to a basic idea, and there’s the spark that started it all. For example, Aladdin; a story about a girl and a boy, both wanting more out of life, both trapped by social status, and controlled by money- or lack thereof, and both outcasts on opposite sides of the social spectrum. On one hand, you have society questioning the worth of the poor, and on the other, we have them questioning why money would make anyone miserable. Because from their perspective, money is everything, and if you have it, why are you complaining. But it wasn’t that Jasmine wanted more, it was just that she wanted something different, and she was condemned for that. As is the case for Aladdin: when you don’t have the money, you spend your entire life striving to be noticed, as both a human being and a respectable young man.

A not so Disney reference to elaborate on this would be Wuthering Heights. If you’ve ever read it then kudos, but if you haven’t, then basically the character of Heathcliff was taken in by a rich family, he was treated poorly by the older brother and everyone ridiculed him and blah blah blah. But after a few years, he runs away, only to return later on as a successful yet mysterious business man with money coming out of his hands, feet and kisses. And suddenly, he was accepted by society. Moral of the story, money money money.

Another example is Beauty and the Beast, and this specifically applies to the female youth of Saudi Arabia. Stripped down, this is a story about a beautiful girl being ridiculed for wanting an education instead of a marriage. “Why would you want knowledge when you can easily seduce any suitor you please and have him give you the world?” said the poor ignorant soul. That’s what they whisper when a girl is lucky enough to get what she wants; when she’s lucky enough to leave this place. Moral of this story, beauty is a substitute for education. And if you’re one of those few who look past that, and if you’re in the even fewer who are denied that, then I’m sorry for your life.

Ignorance is what binds us to our shiny strappy heals and away from any window, razor, or prescription pill bottle, and anything else just shows you how strong you really are.

Rapunzel, also in Saudi Arabia. Basically, she’s a girl trapped in her house, given everything she wants and whatever she needs, told it was all done for her protection. The world cannot be trusted, they say. You’re constantly being told that you’re special, and then on one fine April morning, you realize that it’s nothing but a lie; a lie to keep you sedated and away from thought, because thought is always suspect, thought is not to be trusted, and thought leads to things like the truth, which is bad, very very bad.

So, it begs the question, where exactly is the lies, the fiction, and the silliness? People only see what they see. There isn't more to any story, there is no other side.

Ponderings.

We judge to cover up our own insecurities
I can see right through your words
Beyond the superficial and straight to your fears
So intangible yet so visible
Those walls are useless against these eyes
Because i refuse to judge
So i became perhaps not pure like white
But crystal clear

We smile about the past when we are seeking escape from the present
We smile about the future when we believe in the present
We smile about the present when the rest is forgotten
There is no past present or future
The past is gone
The present is past
The future is present

True emotional joy becomes physical
Happiness comes and a smile is formed
Hate comes and a war is begun
The world appears only in the way we choose to view it
It can be the world of love or the world of hate
Or it can be grey
Grey skies, grey days, grey nights
Money may not be everything
But at least you can afford to add some colour to your life

Life doesn’t make sense
That is the only way for it to make sense
There is no logical explanation for everything
The sooner this is realised the better
Someone once said,” My concern is not that you have failed
But rather whether you are content with your failure”
But what happens when you become satisfied with failure?
When that which you most feared becomes your only companion?
Will failure treat you right?