This is the blog of Achilles

We keep recording and we keep writing, are we recording for posterity? I mean, what did Achilles get out of that arrow in his heel? did he get to fornicate with the woman he lusted after? no.

Did he get to go back home and chill in his original Greek island and knock back a fine toddy? no.

Did he get to do all the other things on his 'list' like skydive, bungee jump and saw off the head of a roaring lion? i think not.

Achilles sacrificed his life for an idea of glory so that some beat up poet could 'immortalize' his name on paper. He wanted to be immortal, so he embraced death. Kind of ironic.

He was a sentimental nincompoop beneath all the warrior like gruffness. That whole 'you're a lion, take it, its yours' thing. I think the only guys who made any use of the legend of Achilles were the people who portrayed him in art. Homer, Brad Pitt take a bow.

A good story, but ultimately bad lesson. What good will a good story do to Achilles now? What good will this blog do to me if it gets famous after i'm dead? Its not like i could use the Google ad money then.

This is a celebratory post

My inhibitions tell me to keep away from this blog. it is dark and full of secrets that you rather not dig up. Not in a too embarrassing and slightly sexually deviant way of course. But more along the lines of old pictures of you with your braces in suddenly falling out of your almirah when u have friends over kind of thing.

I haven't been here in ages and Google seems to have upped their game. The stats page is much friendlier, the interface is smoother and looks less like something out an eighties sci-fi flick. The blogging scene as a whole has somewhat died down, or is it just me? There doesn't seem to be the same level of give and take. The same robust link and comment economies that helped bloggers feed off of each other. I scratch your back you scratch mine, but i think a lot us have lost interest in back scratching? or is it that our backs don't itch any longer?

Hmmm, it is a philosophical puzzle. But recently i did venture into David Blacker's blog and London Lanka by chance and they seem to be going fine. I haven't really been reading a lot of blogs actually. Sorry i don't mean to offend. But most of the people i used to read have slowed down as well.

Enough gloomy talk. A part of me misses the old days. Where your narcissism had enough and more fuel to burn off in the blogosphere. But here i could go into lines of yawny prose about the purpose of writing, but who cares?

Who really cares? oh shit, looks like im on the verge of ending this on an emo note. Quick! think happy thoughts!

A Brother Wright

Boy, some day you'll be a man
Girl, one day you'll be a gran
unless you do not marry
so a spinster you will tarry
But in the long term we are all dead
so what if i have a price on my head?
I will just keep running
And you will just keep running after me
Wasting your life
Fullfiling mine
For what more did i ever need but attention?

Look at that bird flying high
I looked and i wondered
one day might i, oh might i?
So then i made an aeroplane
But its not the same
is it?
The thrill seems subdued so i'll dive off of it
I fell like a stone for a while
But still, i couldn't fly!
Sigh

The clouds on up high
And the stars beyond
Encased in metaphor too frippy to pen down
But take it from me
We must suppose they are beautiful
For it cannot be anything else; the unknown
Mystery mud deep in similie
They may show me the folly of my existence
If i listen
One day i may fly

Einstein

can't sleep.

the world is round and it keeps it's secrets, strongly away from those who cannot handle them
science will speak and describe what it knows but we humans
we best remain silent

can't sleep

the pizzaria spoke of a blessing; anchovies, they said. eat
they are good for you, for insomnia
they are good for patients who can't cope with their mind's own side effects
the side effects of thought
that beat your eyelids open, awake, alert and then run away before you can see who knocked on your door

can't sleep

a nightmare is welcome to knock me unconscious with it's deadly hooves
a nightmare is welcome to freeze me silly in fear and so that i shall lose sense and consciousness
a nightmare is welcome
anything is welcome but this

can't sleep

God is one. only one is God, he said
If reality is controlled then why do my eyes not see
my heart sees but then disbelieves
must i live in terror of this impending blackness
or in gladness of the light, the grey dawn that arrives

but i can't sleep

the night is both dreaded and loved
dreaded for its presence and loved lest it flies before i rest
i must rest
for has it not been said
'the night is for rest'?

this business
this not knowing
works only if you are patient
this business
this burrowing
into wrath and necromancy
serves only the purpose
of killing your instinct
of freezing your facts
in the cold ice of General Relativity

When We Escape

so my muse
shall we take a cruise?
into the blinding sunlight
on an empty sea
with no horizon?
shall we take the pain and abuse?
self inflicted
(for if not what is the use)
and create a thing of beauty?

you and me
united
leaving behind what is useless to us
and embracing the unknown
wanderers, they will call us
lost, they will say
be we know
this is our way

springing free from a mundane existence
our dreams held sway
but are we sailing towards mundanity
towards and not away?
questions that we seek answers to will remain
doubts will seize us by the testicles
and they will not easily go away

but death is our promise
and for its cold embrace we await
but until then a bit of sun, wind, sand
and adventure
wouldn’t kill us as they say

so my muse
my friend of abuse
what say?

she was as the earth
and I, as the moon
to her darkened face
I shone my light
with no restraint
with selfless abandon
but she revelled not in my silvery gloom
and as I watched that cold lonely dawn
how she greeted the sun
with longing in her eyes
I realized
that i
could never become so bright.
for it was not my nature
I was one of a gloomier stature

shadows
loom bright
friendlier than light
for where is the warmth
in hot blinding light?
not for me the days of brightness
not for me the shiny bright
give me gloom and give me sight
for I wish to see
in the darkness

so what say you?
my shadowy clue
my signal in the dark
my direction In the night?
what say you?
to you and me
on a cruise?
exploring lost islands
wading in lagoons
sleeping in the open
with only the stars watching us
what say you?

The Upraised Fist

A scab on a wound
false skin
false reality
underneath; blood flows
red and rich.

a scarred body
full of bullet holes
the rubber bullets
were coated with lead
activism was dead

a power hungry
monarch
an arch criminal;
the henchman
and you
the lone tree hugger
standing alone in front of the digger
arms outstretched

Faith

the truth is not as simple as it sounds.
simplistic rounds
shooting from a 9mm
ripping through flesh
how many babies dead?
how many retards completed the test?
how many fools repented their flesh?
how many intellectuals
let down their people?
how many leaders failed?
how many theories abounded?
how many houses burned?
how many heroes fell?
questions have no answers
questions just have more questions
and ultimately; faith
the truth is faith