Undiscovered Answers and New Consciousness

People don't fully feel natural to dramatically change.

Isn't it interesting that conservative or 'establishist' theory is a necessary tool used to create the idea of progress. Insignificance is the embodiment of science, rationality, and making sense of the unknown. The unknown can then be used as power. The only concept of freedom is to be free from the unknown. Anarchy. Rules exist in the self. Every self applies different rules to their existence.

When the sun burns and the rivers flow let us then revisit the true nature of ourselves.

This collective being which has been blessed with telepathy long before it could speak is only now making sense of things using language. However so many other tangible and ideological beliefs have yet to be discovered within the communication of telepathy.

Let us discover. Let us venture in new ways of dreaming to uncover understanding which is floating amongst space. Very likely our answers are false. There are never answers for those who belong to the creator. One must dream to initiate the conquest of the cosmos. A rocket or telescope displays only what the eyes can see.

Imagine and dream.

Indigenous Brothers and Sisters

I left on the bus this morning. No I actually walked to the grocery store to buy some food in the early morning. An unfamiliar feeling was haunting me. It was positive.

I listened to music. Music that most would not care to listen too that early in the morning but it was one of those special mornings. The mornings when I wake up to the adventure of my own solitude. Walking to town on an overcast day, no shoes, no heat, just pursing a partial destiny and not even knowing what to focus my attention on. So I gazed.

The streets were baron as all shops were closed. So I waited.

After the shops I was sitting on the bench waiting for the late bus. It was an enjoyable moment with cigarette in hand, Nietzsche in hand, ipod in ear, but appreciation was dissolved by distraction.

A dark man, some would call spooky, simply touched my umbrella in my backpack as it precariously lay on the bench and side walk. I looked at the man, smiled, and replied to his action with a soft "hi". He was somewhat startled as I disrupted his world.

"Your not from here are you a foreigner?" he asked, due to the lack of my Australian accent. I replied, "I am Australian" and his reaction was expressed oddly. He rebutted, "Right, Well I am the real Australian. 1st generation bratha!" "I am aware of that" I said while smiling back to him. We introduced ourselves before he told me to stand up to give him a hug. It was the best hug I have ever experienced. Time was irrelevant. It was pure. He said, "Bratha I wish you and your family all the best." Shortly after we dis-embraced his friend brought him a pack of Victoria Bitter to drink away his sorrow. He is a lover. Am I a creator?

I look inside the pages of my book to see whatever it is that I am meant to see. One people have conquered another people and the pain is acute in some and not in others. Sympathy from society is merely a social reaction from their oppression.

Nietzsche writes On The Way Of The Creator,

"Alas, there is so much lusting for the heights! There are so many convulsions of the ambitious. Show me that you are not one of the lustful and ambitious.
Alas, there are so many great thoughts which do no more than a bellows: they puff up and make emptier.

You call yourself free? Your dormant thought I want to hear, and not that you have escaped from a yoke. Are you one of those who had the right to escape from a yoke? There are some who threw away their last value when then threw away their servitude. Free from what? As if that mattered the Zarathustra! But your eyes should tell me brightly: free for what?"

That text resonated through my experience with the real Australian.

I caught the bus home an rethought about colonial oppression, the lover and the creator.

B

I am as fluid as water,
I fill all cracks
even the deepest,

Water worries without reason,
I get caught in the waste,
be calm water will rejuvenate,

I blind my vision for a moment,
and feel what it would be like,
All the horrors disappear,

I picture myself living my life,
without visual perception,
all is black and all is nothing,

The apocalypse comes,
to rescue me,
but its beauty I can not see,

So for a moment,
I open my eyes,
I see reflection of a burning flame,

The human world did stop,
but I didn't notice,
all the reaction I preconceived?

Nothing changed,
change does not exist,
our Earth grows as we pass,

Passion is with me,
follow it,
and live through it,

I can't go wrong,
all of this is my song,
my life am the one.

Escape

I need to escape from my head but it is not that easy. No wonder why I'm confused. My head is a complex electrical circuit and the pathways are deteriorating from so much usage. Not from over thinking but strenuous thought all the time.

When I open my eyes my head hurts, I pause for a moment to try and think less or from my heart but the feelings do not last as this time is merely an alternation. In that moment of feeling, which is now, the leaves drop around my communicator and the gray ski blows a steady breeze past my bench.

I think to better myself. I came to Australia to better my self and direction. Indeed I have done that with support academically and socially. But there is a gaping hole in my self. I'm am learning, breathing, growing, and now I am left with complete dissatisfaction. My heart is not with me. When it is, it is only there for a moment and I can not live through it. To tell you the truth I am very afraid to stop using logic in the prediction that I will stop growing. But the contradiction is there and I am aware, but it is the fear that stops me.

I sense my father within me when I am in Australia. When we see each other our twisted logic collides into some sort of murky energy. This energy is not influential as it does pass.

Not like a friend who I will have to the end, has shown me his way, one which is truly influential. But it is his way. I will have my own, and I will continue to grow even when my material is compressed into stone.

There is a skill to be comfortable in yourself whereby you can treat yourself with the up most respect and love.

An individual I must continue to be. A balance of love and logic.

Looking At Smoke spilling contradicting thoughts

Is it always right to waste for the pleasure of our own eyes?

Fireworks for the sake of expressing whatever. Freedom? I was thinking it would be funny to make a study about the human reaction to fireworks? Imagine if the study concluded that it decreased the human tendency for aggression and war-like feelings? Or I guess as Ahmed told me, 'a reason for people to drink'. 'I don't know man', I replied.

It is unquestionable that the 'dumbing' down of society exists and alcohol and fireworks are a perfect combination, with of course, the preamble by the media concluding that 'tonight will be a special night and I hope to see you there.' Really I doubt that there is an easier way to keep people in line. Booze and fireworks.

As I sat there I hoped I wasn't the only one thinking about the carbon emmissions from the result of a fireworks show of any magnitude.

But for some reason I am still dazzeled by a $7.4 billion F-14 scream accross the sky unloading its fuel for the sake of celebration.

Western Sky

Picturesk sky tells no lies,
the sun sets from east to west,
the light has come it will again,
the time is now for referendum,

A better place is of baron land,
So much space but we can not erase,
this established race white faced,
will learn the land not dominate it,

Towers of technology,
so high tall and unnatural,
buildings blocks are mobilized,
I will build a house from a tree,

Seriously here we are,
no escaping only traveling,
I am happy that this is true,
I will live my life with an I,

So now I strive to tell no lie,
a positive step in space and time,
Give freedom to me and the others,
Empower the mothers and brothers,

Change is no natural like life,
thus the only thing we know is right,
grasp your inner beauty to find,
that your mind and heart is not apart
it is concealed in your bodily art

Over Analysing

She sits there by the Forgan Smith,
Her eyes are sharp and they will wip,
my perception is art deep and close,
I feel that my body is a floating ghost.

Over analysis is used to make sense of life,
I can't accept your reaction as right,
Quarreling birds above me are fueled with life,
Their energy smells like cheap cough medicine.

Pretentious pricks are pink like pansies,
A flip of the hair that you wear on your head,
A turkey pecks at human waste abused and dead,
Are those umbrellas pink or purple?

Communication has become useless and wasteful,
carbon is expelled from your blood cells,
Social circles always a circle unbroken and strong,
I can see truth that you will become a killer.

Do I need life is my connectivity strong,
Was I born to be this hobo bum,
I'm fucking insane with relational insanity,
I don't need drugs to get outside reality.

I feel so far out through over-analysis,
I am now a threat to progressive pretending,
This perception is back its back again,
The energex is fighting us away,

Lock me up I will not live another day...