Inheritance

Like the time, I was born, I dint know I was born
Maybe, when I leave, I wouldn’t know I have left
Maybe, such is the nature of birth and death
And everything in-between is not mine, it is of the other, it is the inherited thought of the other to the other to another

So I ask myself, how can I rejoice of my birth, that which I dint know
How I feel sad of the approaching death, again, that which I don’t know
For both the sadness and joy are of the known, are of the inherited thoughts

Maybe, such is the nature of hate and love, fear and fantasy
Maybe, it is someone else’s fear, somebody else’s definition of love that I made it mine
Maybe such is the nature of relationships, it is someone else’s thoughts I have made it mine and started adapting, adopting, acting them, passing them on to the other to relive another day

Maybe, so is the reason that each of us is called a person, meaning, a mask
For each of the masks I mask myself in, I task myself with to bask in my many masks

The mask of the male, the mask of the mother, the mask of the female, the mask of the father
to create a cask for the masks to fit, called relationships
Like a fish in the water, unknown of its water, I swim under the ship of relationships, carrying, storying and marrying my masks

For in these masks I makeup my life that I call mine to relive to revive the marriage of my masks
Making Life a knife edged with good and bad within which I find my pleasure of the strife

Maybe, one day I may realize that Life is neither in the good nor in the bad. Neither in the light nor in the dark
And that day, maybe I let not the opposites be a requisite for life

For the day of departure may arrive within any moment
The moment of suffering can move in within any movement
I let not my power over the other be my own cower

The mask of Suffering is real, as real as the body
The task of my perceptions are real, as real as the perceiver
The basking of pain is real, as real as the memory of the pain brought into the moment within the movement of its elegant expression

I cannot change you, I do not want to change the you nor the world
I do not want to wait for the day of my departure to realize, to actualize, to mesmerize the beauty of life beyond the walls of my masks

For the end of the rainbow is near, very near
So maybe I sacrifice the me, to be born form the ashes of the me’s me
to give freely, to outlive that which I give to maybe relive really

For the path of truth has no path of the fruit
It is a path I have to unmask and face it on my own two feet
to stand up to the habit and to the uncomfort where no other stands, where no other walks, where no other marks
It is a path that I create for myself and myself only to walk alone, all alone
For I am that has no claim for I am is always alone

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Power In The Tower

In the name of the Power, I am trained to crawl up the Tower
The lover & the giver is just another name of the power over the other
For each is another control tower to hover over the other
To tether, to hither & thither, the other

Living through the other, unable to examine my own perception of power
I look for the other that is also after the power

In this race for power, to create a space for my control tower
I divide my mind to create a self called myself to abide to my divided self
A divided self, fed and bred by my denomination of abominations

Abominations of denominations of Race, Religion, Color, Country, Culture and every other segregation
I aid to this fire power to build up for my hour

Maybe I do this, so “I” don’t have to change, I don’t want to give up my habit, my mechanistic way of my miserable “known” life
for the unknown, for the new that is not known is abandoned, is condemned to the habituated slave mind of mine

For example:
A thief justifies his/her way of life through another thief, thus calling the world as a bundle of thieves, so I don’t have to change myself, look at my own self and my way of life

Maybe this why I identify myself in everyday life with, my race, my culture, my country, my religion, my this & my that, inside/outside
And actually want YOU to do the same and I AID you to do the same through a million masks of mine

Satisfaction as my gratification
Ratification as my formation
I live for the proof of the other, in the spoof of another

Holding on to the “My”
Shielding the My from the I
Yielding to the My over the I
I am lost within the tide of the MY, a divided MY

The day is here and the sway is near
Like the footprints on the sandy shore
Every mark will be wiped
Every spark will be swiped
Wiped from the face of the earth and the very mask of the man

For every tower will fall, every power will stall
Above all, every flower will hail & prevail

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Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

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Scarred Mask of Man

Great Wars are fought, Great scars are marked
On the Face of the earth and on the mask of the man
Wars remembered but the masks still rotten

With the rotten masks, wars are fought again and again
Only to remind me of my rotten mask

When I speak of war, I speak not that which lies beyond the walls
But I speak of the war, that lies within the walls I have built
For the walls I built is the reason, is the very reason for the season of war

Blood is spilled and the hearts are chilled
And I bask in the memories mask of the bloody heart
For a bloody cold heart can only create another muddy heart.

The memories that were drilled, made my thoughts dulled
Only to fortify my walls and prepare me for my battle
The battle that rattles me within the confinements of my walls
As I color a rag, call it a flag, raise it on my back, to carry it on my crack.
The crack in my very heart and in my very thought

Not knowing this, I go beyond the walls to tear down the others wall in the name of protecting my wall

The more I tear, the more I wear
The more I wear, the more I smear
The more I smear, the less I care
And the less I care, the more I tear.

When I realize this, I realize its time
Its time to tear my walls, bore out my battles and pour out my bloody heart
For the heart that cares, never scares nor scars.

Impression

Scars

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