Ahoy! There.. captain.. sahib

It must be nice to pick up the pen and just start writing again. I was naive enough to think i'd outgrown it; this unstoppable urge to write. it didnt matter what i wrote, the point was that i wrote. But i was too naive to think that i was no longer naive. And now im back to being naive.

Nothing much has changed.

Oh but it has. But has it? I don't know. I think i have matured in certain ways don'tyouthink? But i also think i have unwittingly carved out this pretentious air of maturity for myself which has run out the course of its illusion. I have bared myself to myself again. But i dont think i've been fooling a lot of other people.

But maybe this is the illusion. And this apparent expose of myself to myself is intself a trick brought about by stress. Look there! yes there; that way lies paranoia.

Well, whatever. I have been busy. At least my level of activity has been steadily increasing. I am trying to cope but intensity levels are still rising, Captain! permission to focus on riding the wave until it reaches its peak! Permission granted.

Am i getting any less cryptic here? I can't tell

Wastepost

In the desert there existed a grain of sand. It was just an ordinary grain of sand, although it may have been slightly priviledged because it had the luck to be situated on the top layer of the ground; enjoying the assorted benefits of being able to roll around the endless expanse of the desert both in the gentle evening breeze and in the wild desert sandstorm; something hugely enjoyable.

It considered itself a grain of sand of the world. An intellectual grain of sand, but its peers often thought it was slightly presumtuous in this regard. A grain of sand was a grain of sand. And in the desert all you saw was other grains of sand or the stars anyway. The latter depended on whether you were on the top layer or not. But eventually, arguably, every grain of said got a chance to stay on top.

Its elders thought it naive, and quietly listened to its boasting without saying much. They considered themselves wiser, of course. And the young grain of sand resented this. But it pretended it didn't care, bacause that's how it rolled.

It saw in its elders a reflection of itself as seen by its peers. And it saw in its peers a reflection of itself as seen by its elders. It chilled out a bit on top of a freshly formed dune. Thinking about this.

Analogy and Feathers

Green sparks! greaan sparks revolted in the red fire. they amulgamated and formed little flames of their own. They had been hiding in the tiny metal substrate the secret ingredient; the exotic dense substance that had missed the attention of the destroyer class disposal unit sent from the Establishment.

Kangaroos flew into the mind in billowing cloaks liened with regard into the flaming pew stickers in the renaissance of the decaprio saga. The giselle bunchens and other assorted lingerie models not withstanding the gossip of the amazonian pshycopaths, the egyptian druglords and american jailbirds.

but reclaiming land has always been a reconnoitering mission of serious psokage that has embittered the masses against the would be devils of the landlords. liberalist ideals have formulated the basis for the spawn of animated cartoons to disintergrate into remorseless interpretations of Sexual Man.

B ol cols trembling old a controlled attempt a ontrolled shally wally bang bang bang of dispropotionate. A metaphor released into a vacuum that was the test. an analogy released into a singular universe it ceased to exist but what is an analogy but something dependent on something else?

I am an analogy an analogy of you him them. You are an analogy an analogy of me her him. We are analogies floating on each others whim, we will not survive in vacuums.

we will not survive we are dependent i am dependent on  you ? on you? it pisses me off but i am forced to admit i am dependent on you are dependent on me? it may piss you off but force to admit that you are are are depended on me. convolution be damned this is a scenario a problem of perception we must solve this.

Self Censorship

Here i come into the next phase

Propelled by hope and an expectant look

on my face

Here i come running a different race

one in which only winners run

oh what fun

Here i am self censored

here i am mentored

by fearful people

Yet i am grateful

and my sacrifice is powerful

but not as powerful as their love

For their sake, i must fold?

Sway

A reek of sweat
it may or may not be the doom
of impending death

The waves have met
and ricocheted
the boat didn't collapse
but it swayed.

And my heart swayed with it
on the blue waves
and it almost jerked free of its moorings.

A monstrosity then
rose up and bled
turned my insides on a whim
like the roiling shore bed

But the patience of encounter
by then long practiced
saved me from a flounder
and another night
I sleep free