A Recycled Me

Maybe my memories are like that of time, recycled over and over
My experiences like that of matter, creating my reality as my actuality through my memories
And my thoughts are like that of space, vast and yet are a result of my memories and experiences
Weaving the very fabric of the me I call as me

I am a fictionary element living in the dictionary
Defined by the Dictionary, confined by the images and intertwined by the images of my mind projected onto my mind

Cycle after cycle, recycled by my images
Revived by my images, recited by my images
I have become an image unto the image of my image

Unknown beyond my image, I am just a bond between my images, responding to my images, reforming my images
from the memories that memorized me, from the stories that mesmerized me
And yet I am surmised by the rise of the these prized memories

For the sunrise, I think I agnize is just another way to glamorize my image of the sunrise as my apprize for a rise

Aided by my images, graded by those images and shaded by the images within my image
Persuaded, degraded, barricaded and intoxicated by my images
I lead an experience of the past thinking I am fast not realizing that I am just a cast

A cast in the movie, created by the cast, for the cast to uncast the cast that cast the cast of this Mast I call me

I am the actor, I am the doctor, I am the redactor and the very common factor
For it is the I am that is the image of the I am that I think I am

This I am made me an I am for I am to show me My I am, to know me I am
So maybe, I am and I, and the I of the I am may loose its luster and its muster
to be free of memories, to be free of experiences that create memories that create the thought of My

And here, I wonder……

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A Mind that Doesn’t Know

To a mind that doesn’t know, it only knows through the kind it knows, through the bind it knows
To a mind that doesn’t know, it only knows the no through the know but never the no
To a mind that doesn’t know that it doesn’t know, it only knows the unknown through the known but the unknown through the unknown

For such a mind,
Life is a Game, Life is a Name
Life is a Fame, Life is a Blame
I become a Muppet to the name of the Game and the blame of the fame

In this frame, I only know the name and the fame, the games and the blames
but never the very life
For all I have known is only that which I have known, the known of the known

With such a defined mind, constrained mind, will I ever know life

I may know life as a highlife, as a lowlife
Life as a Strife, life as a knife
Life as a fife or may be, life as a Rife
But never life as life

For to the mind that knows the meaning of life, only knows the definition of life, a description of life to make it a prescription for its life
But never the very life

May be to know life is to be life
To be life is to unknow that which I think is life
May be then, I may find out for myself the very life
For when I am within life, when I am life, I will never know life as life.

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Memory as Life

From the unknown to known, I get to know the “You”
From the known, I fight for the you, I take flight with the you, making the you, an image of the You within me, making the me

I fight for the You to keep our memories alive, my memories alive
I come back again and again and again from the unknown to the known to make one more memory of you, with the you, for another dance with the you, a dance of me and you through me

Like a bee that searches for honey, I search for memories with the you, to make memories with you
Memories so sweet, sweeter than the sweetest nectar
Just like a bee that builds a hive to store all its honey
I build walls around my memories to store the memories of the you

In the memory I live, for the memory I am alive
In the memory I think, for the memory I drink
In the memory I blink, for the memory I ink
For another memory, I link

My mind loaded with so many memories of the you and the me, I go on creating more memories of me and you, to hold you, to feel you, to get to know you, so I can hold on to the memory of the you.

But,
The harder I try to hold on to you, the smoother you slip through
The slower I lift you towards me, the faster you slip through
Only to show me that I too one day have to slip through my own fingers, through my own memories back into the ocean, to the unknown

Just like the water is no water to the ocean and the ocean is no ocean to water
For the memory has no memory to itself, to hold on to itself

So will I live in my memories making memories from memories, will I live in my memory of my memories?
I wonder…..
I wonder of life with no memory of life.

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Reality of Reality

The reality of reality has no reality
The selective reality of the collective reality makes my reality a reality
When the mind thinking of reality is no longer in the collective reality, I create my own selective reality based on my experience, my memory of the selective reality
And yet a different selective reality within the collective reality but of the collective reality

Those that are of the collective reality may not understand this selective reality of mine, may not belong to, may not confirm, may not affirm to me or this selective reality of mine
For it is not their selective reality
For their reality is a collective reality of memory of each other, a selective reality of the collective memory of each other

When my selective reality is different from that of the other, I call my reality a delusion, an illusion
For my reality is an illusion, only when compared to the others memory of their collective reality, trying to make it my reality

Yet when the selective realities of a different collective realities form, come together to agree upon, to confirm each other, I gather myself to stand up for this new collective reality
For I am always looking for comfort in the others memory of the reality
For I am looking for a confirmation, an affirmation from the other of my reality to makeup my own reality

For I am even afraid of my own selective reality, I am afraid to stand ALONE!
For I have only been lonely but never ALONE.
So I go after more of the same reality to stay in the collective reality and yet create a personal reality based on the collective reality

This way I go after more and more of the same collective reality, a comfortable fantasy
For I always seek some more of the more
OR I go after more and more that has no more
For then, I also seek some more of no more

And the more I seek, the more I bleak
The more I want more, the more I need more
The more may not need me but the me needs more
For the me is the mean that wants more to need more
So I make a new me that wants no more and needs no more
Only to realize that no more is also another more of some more

Maybe the some more of the no more and the more of the some more is also more of the some more
For the quality of the more may differ but there is always more

Now with no more and no some more of no more, I mar the me that wants more and needs more
With no me to me and no more of me, I have no, no more or more of more

For all realities are illusions of my mind and all illusions are realities of my mind, that is seeking, that are peaking

And maybe when the me that is seeking, peaking and creating these realities reflects back on to its own selective nature of the collective and the very collective
Maybe then I may have no I, no I am, no me, no you that is neither you, nor me, nor you & me.

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YOU

Living in the YOU
Loving in the YOU
Teaching in the YOU
Preaching in he YOU

All i TALK about, is the YOU, in every word
All i WRITE is, for the YOU , in every sentence
All i walk is, in the YOU, in every step

Unable to know me, I have put an end to me, to be YOU
Unable to think of ME, All i think is you, All i ink is for you
Unable to look at me/Myself, all i blink is you

Every thought, is of the YOU, Every NOT is from the YOU, through YOU
Every fight is for the YOU, Every might is over the YOU
My every division is for the YOU, my every revision is in the YOU

As i live this LIFE, for the YOU, Full of the YOU
I have become you and the “I” & the EYE i am is that of YOU, only in reference to the YOU, only a comparison to the YOU

Such I, that lives in the YOU, makes the YOU of the YOU, to the YOU that I think of You, is another I, of the You to the YOU, to the You to the You

Such I only dwells in the You, swells in the YOU and smells the same as the YOU
Such I, WRITES in the YOU, plights in the YOU
Such I, dictates to the YOU and procreates another YOU

Such I, aid’s in the You, abides by the YOU, confides itself in the YOU
Such I, can never change the YOU, for it can never ever change itself, for it has never looked at itself, its own self

I wonder why there is so much of such YOU in me
I wonder if I will ever get to know me, with no more of the YOU, no more comparison to the YOU, no more hiding behind the YOU that i have become

I wonder if i will ever actually realize that
For the YOU to exist to me, I have to exist to me
And if that is true, then the YOU is only there because I/me the perceiver is there to acknowledge the perceived/YOU, isnt it?

If that is so, why do I use YOU so much, both as the word “YOU” in writing, and in my thoughts in thinking/feeling?
And what happens when I eliminate the word and thought of the YOU? can I still think and communicate? Can I still write without the word YOU,
if so, what would such writing be? What would such teaching/preaching look like?

So i question myself, who is this me that is there when the other, when the YOU is no longer there (in any shape/form/thought/feeling/thinking etc)
Who is this me that has no YOU, no reference to the YOU?
I wonder…..

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Identity

I see my Identity is very important to me and i myself always tried to have an identity assigned to me
I wonder if Identity is the memory of an entity as an actuality
I ask myself why do i need an Identity for myself
And my answer to myself will be, to be of value, to be valued, to be of someone, something

I wonder about value, what is value, what is being valued? Is it the other i have to be value to, valued of
If my value exist to me in reference to the other, then i am must be living in the other
Then i say, no it is not the value to the other or value in reference to the other but it is being value to myself

Many times, i deny understanding myself, as if a self is only a hallucination
I go on describing myself as the light, the bright and the knight
The very thought of any other word, i deny it, i run away from it and i dismiss it

How am i to know if i cannot accept that which I am as I am, acknowledge that which i think I am
how am i to know myself when i only strive to fit in the container of light, bright and knight?

So i give up and say, oh its just life, i have to have some dark and some light
In this hallucination, i swing between the light and the dark, not knowing neither but always referencing each other for another

Being stuck in such state of mind, how will i ever get to know me, the me with no memory of me in reference to another.

So maybe Without getting offended to myself and denying myself of the question that arises, i have to examine my own mind, my own actions to understand the nature my identity and the entity I am, the very my i refer to as my or I am

And with no judgment of right or wrong, i ask myself, what is being of value to oneself, taking care of oneself?
Most importantly I have to ask myself who is this self that is taking care of oneself/myself
is it another self that is living in the constraints of another hallucigenic memory of another?

To understand this i take into consideration two words.
I say I am intelligent and beautiful

So now i wonder, what is intelligence without the other? What is beauty without reference to another? intelligence without another mind, beauty without another eye whether it is the eye of the heart or the actual eye
For in both cases, there is a fundamental “thought” behind it that i ignore many times

Whether that another is external or within the mind that has a reference to another idea, another frame of reference within my mind
If it is true that one is only in reference to the other, then one cannot be itself, myself
I can only exist in reference to the other, in the memory of the other constantly seeking the other whether it is physically or mentally, isnt it?

In the memory of the other
i tether to the other
For further in the other, i seek another
And I in no other and in no another breaks my tether to the other, so in the other i suther
and I live in the other, for another, not knowing neither

Maybe when i let go of the thought of the other, the thought of the other will let go of me
So that i can look at the me, as me, that is thinking of me that is having the thought of me to think of me within me to know me of the me
Maybe then i may come across the me that has no memory of me, no thought of me nor the me
Maybe then, i may come across the unknown unknown of the unknown to the unknown
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