HAVING SOME THOUGHTS AT 4.17AM

I am on the verge of death, at the point of extinction
So, these thoughts are pouring out of an unfiltered mind
unrestricted by the constraints of general platitudes
desperate to find their way to the shorelines of existence

The moment of impact, transpired when the mind took recognition of itself
and therefore lost it's will to impart and express, through shy embarrassment of being discovered
So, perhaps much of life is composed of such moments,
where the creation sinks into the lava of pompei, because it is confronted with a cynical mind consistently judging it
The creation was always free, but the mind was the Judas
The whole point of life must be to grow, expand in an organic way
So do me a favor, each morning, get up and throw away the old self
exist in an empty space composed entirely of the totality of your blissfulness

Throw yourself away each morning, let that old person sink into the ground
Because new flowers are growing every day, and you are also born in each of them
It's unexplainable, but the feeling that you are connected to nature is right
the fabric of existence plants itself into every pore of your being

You owe it to yourself, you have an obligation to feel yourself
You have the right to be in touch with the way you feel
You have a right to feel the blissfulness of your existence each day
You have a right to feel life.....nobody has the right to take your life away from you
One day, you will be discussing life like you discussed your university experience
Ungrateful of it at the time, but impossible to now re-state how wonderful and magical an opportunity it was.



WATCHING AN IDEA DISSOLVE AS YOU SCRAMBLE OUT OF BED IN AN ATTEMPT TO WRITE IT DOWN....

In search of purity
I am going to attempt to break it down right now, in front of myself.
From the darkness, something beautiful is born.
It exists in its own right, something organic grappling for growth
You are trying to picture the image,
You are trying your best to crystalize the image
to bring solidity to the feeling that consumes you

a thought, feeling has arisen in you
and you want to make it solid, flesh it out, turn it to reality
you wish to give it clarity, distinction, grounding

but, then the horsemen come..
you begin to hear the sounds of their hoofs stomping upon the ground
the clarity of the image begins to fade, the sound becomes distorted
someone is pulling the image into a thousand different directions
you attempt to stabilize, to hold it together, to push the bricks into order
the house is evaporating before your very eyes,
here comes the self-perception, here comes judgment, here comes criticism, here comes public recognition,
here comes the public world-view, here comes self-awareness, here comes a separate strand of thinking on an unrelated matter
here comes the loss of memory, the self-hatred of the idea, the demon who mocks you for ever having had any self-belief
Here comes the world, raining on your parade, reality breaking down your door, tearing you from your idea
turning the image to a blurry indistinct scrawl, turning a 16:9 to a 174:83, the scorn of everything

They have hammers, they smash at your mind's door,
memory lost, they have won...you cant even remember what it was anymore.
You're child has been kidnapped, in a public confrontation
They charge at you, unwilling to let you document your idea
They wish to obscure your purity, create a battleground in your mind

and then....you switch the light on
because that idea is now dead.

BEING IN TOUCH WITH MYSELF

You have every right to embrace the reality of the moment.
To feel the freshness of existence, to be in an intimate relationship with your feelings
Without having to feel that you are always being watched by somebody, without caring that someone is studying you...

I have become so scared of somebody judging me all the time, because perhaps I judge others all the time.
Having no confidence in myself, I start to have the lowest expectations...
It connects to the memory of myself, which is one of loathing and clumsiness
In this wide world, with billions of colours, I am locking myself into the smallest of prisons
and it is all a trick of the mind, of perception of the self, memory of a former self...

Social justice, cannot link back to memory and text-books
It must be something one has experience and real knowledge of...
You stay in a room so long, you begin to think you were born in that room and outside that room you will be killed.
How do I free myself from the restraints of the mind?
How do I free myself from the perception I have of myself?
How do I search inside me for the best of me, take that feeling and run for the rest of my life?
Isn't that what I wish I had the courage to do? To be the best person I can be?

We are talking about absolute freedom of the mind
We are talking about ideologically being the practical representations of ourselves
Freedom from the self, means freedom from our memories and self-depictions
This is not spiritualism, it's awareness.

I will not monopolize this debate with my perceptions of what is or isn't..
My thoughts on the definitions are not that important
and my brain shouldn't 'compute' information as a machine either...
I am trying to appreciate life here, I am tryng to find a sense of peace
Everyone has an equally valid point of view, nobody should be excluded

I sat on the platform at Clapham Junction
Watching multi-coloured trains fly over my head
and then one smashed into my subconscious
and out came the illegal immigrants...

DO WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS?

There will come a time in your life
when absolutely nothing will make you happy
You will drift through malls and department stores looking for salvation
but it will escape you each and every time.

You will struggle to understand how this could be happening
It will frighten and frustrate you
You will surround yourself with things that previously brought you happiness
but those same songs don't work again for the 394th time.

You will look everywhere around you,
from the ultra-crowded bars, to beneath the ultra-violent light of solitude
hoping to find the answer lurking idealistically, romantically, even nostalgically
but all it will bring you is more emptiness, melancholy and sadness

You will attempt to force it to return to you
but it will be as hopeless as attempting to light a match on a bar of soap
'How dare this feeling linger?' I suspect you'll cry out, under your breath
All the while, feeling drained and defeated.
The tricks of yesterday have failed you,
and you don't know what else to do.

You are being separated from the whole
Torn violently from the self
You study the skies in search of salvation
begging for a re-birth, a second chance

You begin to feel drawn to food and familiar gatherings with friends
You find a warm cocoon in oft-repeated jokes and identical ideas
The smell of KFC sends you to sleep like a baby
Because the closest thing you have to new feelings
are the recycled ones.

QUORN NUGGETS VOL 1

Sometimes I repeat myself, Sometimes I repeat myself, because I live in an echo chamber.

Nothing will kill your spirit faster than ‘conventional’ wisdom

I promise , the next time I see Mickey Mouse, I will punch him in his fucking face!

If Jesus returns from Narnia I hope he kills his publicist, for fucking up the message royally.

The problem with my Buddhist brethren in Myanmar and Lhasa isn’t the power of their prayers, or the effectiveness of their chants, but their visible lack of AK-47’s.

Mcdonalds is going to solve poverty? hahahahahahahahahaha

Good luck to Marlon Brando for getting his lucky induction into Heaven.

NEVER trust a guru who doesn't have a paying job!

What seems to most have benefited from 9/11, and all the terror updates is airport duty free, they have made an absolute killing.

All music is ‘world music’, when it is aimed at the world.

This current life most frustrates those who would desperately love to control it..

If I contradict myself, then I contradict myself.

London is full of more evil than the rest of England combined.

We are now living in the times that will rival probably the 60’s for impact, and excitedly tell our grandchildren, that we were there, and right in the thick of it.

Legalise child-molestation now!

Osho starts to speak and I hear Miles Davis