Lucifer You

I once met Lucifer and he said

A man is a man, even when dead

He hurts and kills even when 

He's buried six feet under

I once met Lucifer and he said

A man is a corrupted descent

He lies and steals even when

He's entrapped in a wooden casket

He once met Lucifer and he knew

He is decaying down in his core

He’s an infestation of sin

Swarming out of his eyeballs

We all met Lucifer and we saw

We are Lucifer in disguise

Mirrors gleam and mirrors glow

With different frowns of despise

Stone Padded Green

Its beauty lies within the indecisiveness of its elements. I can’t decide if life is trying to reach out to it or if it is trying to desert it, leaving it in the middle with no closure. I was left once in the middle with no closure; left to dig out my way, my path, out of it all. These brown, dry branches hanging down, reaching to the stone building, seem to grow little leaflets. The building has this mystical mischief sense of grandness and dismay; a part of a grandeur that was taken away from it, when it was taken down from the fortress to which it was assigned to be part of. The maybe old, high-tower-chamber surrounded by these thick trees, a forest maybe, tickles my sense of danger, yet I feel tranquil.

It’s the green that’s crawling up these ancient stones like venomous vines, still padding the harsh edges of the paving rocks in the entrance of the circular edifice with softness; inviting me in, yet keeping me out. The stone fence surrounding the trees is keeping land and water intact; water to water and ground to ground, like ashes to ashes and dust to dust. It’s the deadly liveliness in this scene that bewilders me. The slight turbulence in this greenish water surrounding the only thing that stands up right seems so still, adding beauty to the curios composition.

It sounds like I’m describing me more than describing the scene; projecting my tired and restless soul on a deserted stone-cold tower chamber, cut off magnificence to swim down the static stream of life and desolation, seeking to reach a land that it can call home.

A stone of green padding at its feet

A grandeur stolen, yet clung to fiercely

A sense of impossibility

A soulless projection on a lively death

A contrast of black and white

Dark and light

Water encircling sharp edged rocks

Standing up straight between the twisted branches

Of brown decay

As little green life

Trying to escape them

It’s a gate, a hollow shape in the center

As dark as night

Fighting the mist pushing it down to the ground

As dark as night

Under the burning, rising sun

Quitting Anti-Social Social-Media

It’s the waiting! It feels nice not to be waiting for anything, or anyone! It’s hard, very hard, especially when you’re waiting for something that you don’t know.

Have you ever waited for something that you don’t know?

_I did!

And they ask me why I quit social media. Isn’t it obvious! I mean, do you really have to ask! It needs no asking to figure it out. Our lives are being sucked out; our marrows sucked out, cleaned off our bones! We’re growing hollow!

Is it by any means useful?

_NO! It is just not!

What is useful in being addicted to a certain page or a certain post. You are being trained to wait through the so called “social media”. It is anti-social! Think about it thoroughly; you consume your time, energy and health on waiting and writing and getting disappointed. You wait for people to respond to your post by reacting to it, commenting on it, sharing it, and so on. It is absolutely nonsensical while you can just call someone.

Why did people stop calling?

_Because texting became available.

Why did people stop writing or texting?

_Because voice notes on whats’app became available.

Why do we not meet each other anymore, as in real physical meetings, as in we get up, get dressed, wear makeup and bust our butts to a place where we are all going to see each other, feel each other, sympathize with one’s miseries and difficulties?

Why did it become that hard to know the answer to why did we stop communicating like real people do, not like phantom apparitions?

I’m done for waiting for him to inbox me, or for her to send me a link, or to be tagged in a group status. I’m done. It actually feels nice to be missed. It actually feels nice to feel important. It feels nice being asked about and accordingly you receive a call from people you thought wouldn’t even think of you or wouldn’t miss you but they did. I felt alive when one of the girls called me the other day, knowing that she never normally calls. NEVER! This time she did, there was no other way to check up on me but such and so she did! They will know that calling you is the way in which they can reach you, and so they will call. They will feel that you need them, as much as they need you. I need them more than they need me. I need to feel their empathy and love and warmness. Most importantly, it’s important to me to know who actually cares that he figures out that I’m no longer available and thus he would go looking for me, asking about me, and checking out if I’m still alive.

I am not alive

I am not dead

I am no phantom

I am no apparition

I am no human

I am no person

I am no definition

I am just a pile of emotions

I am a combination of feelings

I am a complex state of mind, a roaring turmoil