Hypocrisy

The perfect smile; leaves you with enough evidence, for it to be seen as hypocritical. Better yet, you know. In essence leaving them in their ignorance; with perhaps a smile yourself, but this is not new, nor rarely ever is it absent. And in those scarce moments of pity, this absence leaves an abnormal feeling of dissent, especially for the hypocrite. But for the brave, forlorn its not- But there is a thin line between bravery and stupidity.

Allow me to be impartial; to say it, like it's meant to be said. Read it like how it's meant to be read. Being as indulgent as possible, but removing all the doubts, taking away the improbable. Causing disturbances for the few, who feels the most; clearing the air, exorcising the ghost. For as you know; these are some perilous times. Where people commit, some in arduous crimes; but they are not criminals, just hypocritical minds.

Constantly, I plague my mind searching; why is it human nature to be a hypocrite? ''To love is human nature; maybe that's why people love, to be hypocrites''. But then, the time spent thinking was nothing gained. Maybe my cerebellum sprained but the answer it aint. As I now know, there is no answer. Like the cure for an AIDS or better yet Cancer. We are all spawned with ignorance; as to why, certain things are the way they are. Why simple cuts heal for some, but others just scar. Which leads me to the point, some heal better than others.

But some, they just can’t refrain from being hypocrites; they just cannot heal. As if to say; it’s a promise made, an immovable seal. Yet again, some can; but it all depends on their mental, their ability to not care. Or, perhaps not fear; not showing a sardonic smile. Not driving the crowd wild. For there are no heart attacks, no emotional breakdowns, for there are no casualties, especially in the heavenly faculties. We simply live on, living on free of thought. No entrapment; no freedom sought, of the afore behavioural concoction. Positivity enhanced, immoral reduction.

We see it rampant; in our churches, classes and everywhere else. We fear it not, for Machiavellian it's not, it's only Hypocrisy. The age old tendency; to be unreal, to see the truth and not reveal, But wouldn't that make us all hypocrites? No, not unless you're not brave! It’s not over till its over. Be not a push over, for controversy is good for the soul and for every surviving sole. We are all from the World, but all are not of the World.

A Metaphor for Love

Steel mirrors do not break! Often times dented. But then; love eventually happens, again! Reflections resolute-musing empowered. We admit to defeat, our senses scoured; there is no escape, without it no means of survival. We have been through its death, now its revival. But how hard is it to love? A World full of pain; for if there’s no pain, there is no gain! This love cannot be concrete, unless there is foundation. Love cannot be of spirits, unless there is distillation. This love is that plumber, who fixes all pipes-a dirty job it is. But it gets the blood flowing, leaves the cheeks glowing, keeps the teeth showing. Love survives, that is status quo.

Love is too little a word, to mean so much. Yet it's more than enough. Love is harder than tough. For glass it’s not, it does not break! Hitting the steel is painful; but it’s your pain to take. But you will endure; for love is unmoved, unchanged, and only clearer next time around. By both what not and your actions for with math it is your fractions. Love is there; it is in your before, after and again, basking. Incessantly recurring, just asking and asking. Showing its reflection like water, especially at sea; you punch, you kick and slap; yet, your soul is not free.

Attaining love is not easy. And it’s now a depression, the recession is over. You smile, wit and jeer and lose your composure. But nothing beats a good try; except, from writing a note, and having a good cry. Unless you’re smooth as silk or melt like butter, you’ll never find the words to say...just stutter and stutter. Until you find the one that appreciates, your mirror –steel that is. Then hunt along, but it is scarce as you can get. But there is hope, and you will cope, in most instances. And when you find; someone of the same ilk, someone of the same mind, some mirror that is not glass. Far more durable, perhaps vague, but will last. For with time, you will adjust no more of blur, no more of cuts. Happiness occurs: perpetually, incessantly, and again and again, for there is gain, and then there is gain!

Glass mirrors of love are good-handle with care. For long term they’re not. They are as crystal as clear; we see what we want, and get what we see. Reflections can be altered, by the mirroring effect of others who faltered, and just by the mere amoral we apply; which leaves it a little less than amative. We hop in; we look, and just leave and then we sigh. Little time spent on musing, for it serves best static, dynamic is confusing. Everything seems so clear, so: ‘that’s what I want’. Maybe that’s our fault; we focus not, on what we need. So the mirrors break, and then we bleed...

The Fabricated Truth: Sexy and Girls

We all have faults; no matter how self righteous, perfect we think we are. But when it comes to females, they embrace this fact with a wry smile. For cardinally it’s a sin for them to not; dress to impress. Dress like the rest, but look better, that much better. Matching outfits that glares in your eyes, just enough for you to become aware of their presence. Maybe a little more than aware; allow them, to become the centre of your attention. As surely they didn’t dress, so potently glamorous for you to take notice of them, only in small doses.

But they fail to grab hold of the male’s mindset. We are not impressed by the way they adorn themselves, well maybe but it’s not that essential. Her being sexy is and will be far more, essential. The Coco-cola bottle mentality; the curve keeps our eyes, straight on the figure. That’s me being brutally honest. For we care to let go, all the before, and think of how; sexy she looks now.

This leaves a big gap for girls to live up to, for not only are they plagued with the up keep of their dressing. But now, keeping up to the fitness regiments and watching that regular Pilates program, which seems oh so imperative; for the knowing girl. No girl wants to be that girl; who walks around with her hands smelling of chicken gravy. Creating more humor for the world at large; as she walks in those tight jeans, compressing the lard unattractively. No guy wants that girl, uncouth to say the least. No matter how narrow minded us males are; we aim for that sexy thing. But sexy is based on perception, which leads me to the truth….

The truth is; perception poisons our thinking, above all else. What seems to matter most are others’ perceptions about our perceptions that leave us, a little less than our selves. We are not free to be who we are. We cannot think as we would like, for what we like, is not of their liking. So we are left as wanderers; both male and female, living up to someone else’s perception of how things should be. Of how sexy that girl really is. ‘My nails really need to be done’- the celebrity mentality. Nothing is wrong, in aiming to become a celebrity. But something is wrong, in becoming like the celebrity. Nothing is wrong, in, more than appreciating the ‘thick’ girl.

Sexy and girls goes hand in hand, Likewise, beer bottles and males. Just maybe, these bottles are influencing our thinking, more than enough. They say females like what they hear and males see what they like, pardon my twist to the saying. But all in all, sexy girls like hearing that they are sexy. Leaving them; looking that much better, But that’s only perception, right?
Maybe not, maybe fabrication….

You’re Cheese

Nope, it’s not about smiling...try again, give up? Well, it’s about that important person in your life. And why you feel; everyone, just wants to have that big unspoilt slice. Well unless your lactose intolerant, then obviously the division of your cheese is not an idea you would take with open arms.

We all should know what happens to cheese when left out in the open, inadvertently it becomes stale. Keep your cheese refrigerated; allow it not, to be cheesed off. For no one really wants stale cheese which is too much pain to endure, even for the starved. The Cheese is, was and will be; such a wonderful thing to be wasteful of.

The great thing about it, Cheese is so abundantly varied; for there is a type of cheese, for every type, for every soul. But be cognizant, this Cheese is not for consumption. A moral adjustment, if not aware, for this ‘Cheese’ must be cherished to every single bit. But do not bite, instead appreciate – realize that your Cheese is special. Embrace the fact that no one else can have a slice, a piece. Fortunately, you’re not lactose intolerant, maybe to everything else, but not Cheese.

So be free to be cheesy, with your Cheese; undoubtedly love it. Cheesing is essential, when with your Cheese. For only then, your Cheese will come to the realization; that you in fact, are their Cheese, their spoilt milk.....

How yummy does that sound?

Etching is better

Etching is better, only if done cerebrally. One cannot condone the idea of a person literally carving into their skin, inflicting damage, equipped as the Surgeon at the ready for scalping, anaesthetics intentionally misplaced or erased. But as the blood spurs, from the relatively calculated cut that inflicted enough damage, for it only to be seen as stupid, not fatal. They find relief in the temporary pain it sheds. But the marks aren’t effervescent, rather grotesque and humiliating. For it is no one’s wish to show off their stupidity, at least for some it isn’t. A mental condition some may say, in fact, a mental condition it is. But how much so, would you want to be etched on someone’s mind? A different type of high...

Feeling important is not easy, for some. They rely on one’s opinion of themselves, to feel only just ok. Some enjoy the fact they can exploit people’s thinking, through disturbance but they in fact need deliverance. For etching should never be extravagant, boastful, imposing itself, it is unique to the Artist. Hence it is not; loud, it allows for reflection, a deeper meditation. But the beauty of it all, everyone possesses this ability to etch. Yes on skin, but that is not beautiful. Etching of the mind is.

We cannot allow this unfailing power to elude us, this artistry. The power of etching can be of greater significance; if only we allow it. Persons who etch illusions onto one’s mind are no less than liars, Magicians they are – they bestow the power to deceive and create confusion. We can all allow the Magic tricks to elude us, for it would seem very limited of us to be associated with trickery, at least for some.

Be not confused, etching is not glorification of one self. For it is merely the ability to bid another, with the beauty you’ve found; be it, inside or out. Creating a far more colourful; beautiful relationship with this other whether they’re significant or not. In doing so, one becomes a better person, self confidence begins to loom, maturity blossoms, negativity hindered. If an Artist etches every day, unavoidably he becomes a better Artist. Paint your picture today; it may very well leave an irreplaceable mark on someone.

Etching will remain parallel to its initial state, leaving a lasting memory of good...Use it well, to colour and engrave; the good amongst all.

Becoming the Neo you can be....

If I’m getting no sleep, why dream about it? A false sense of hope is nothing to save up for. If we sift our moral obligations, then by hand remove all trivial matters, what are we left with? Nothing less than standards and customs, so old our skins wrinkle to think of its inception. But it is good to standardize, to customize not so much. Conceiving an idea is neither beyond nor above anyone. The culprit can only become a criminal, if the act is a crime. But the criminal conceived a culprit’s psyche, and then by executing became the doer attaining the criminal status.

Are we all criminals to our minds, no? At least our thinking, we readily appreciate things of the old the real proverbial stuff. Conception is just a mere lake we visit, in our times of solemnity, trying to escape the world around us. We create new ideals, when the things of old become counterproductive. Too little for anyone’s liking, but that is standard, surely we know that things of old are not meant to be changed or tampered with. They are truths of this world, the untouchables.

Truth is not beyond us, conceiving truth is certainly not beyond. What seem to contradict our truths are misconceptions that lead us to errant results. Why bother play the law of averages in conceptualizing? Because one cannot hide behind the fact; that it takes only one great idea to ameliorate all that bad preceding us.

This idea of old is better, standards are certain and customs are tried and tested. Limits our ability to become creators of beauty and wonders, every being is entrusted with a talent. Each talent can and will conceive. This mental blockade of adaptation is cunningly disguised as what I call ‘truths’. For it is truth, that education is the high way for success. But who says we need education for success? For it is truth, that money can grant us joy. But who says there is joy in having money.

Customs and standards imparted from the old, simply produces nothingness, essentially endowing our minds to another’s intellect. My success is not your success; but we must aim to successfully remove standards and customs from the forefront of our thinking or intellect- if in fact, freedom is our wish.

Let’s standardize and customize to originality. For it is criminal to hold our minds in contempt for conception. The mosaic mind holds within it many pictures...Feel free to become beautiful!

A familiar...familiar

This is no ordinary fragrance; it possess within its powers, the ability to elude one’s comprehension. Causing a heavenly disturbance, whilst it lazily infiltrates one’s thinking bogging the delusions and perceptions. Inconceivably potent, its nature is distinct, but, beyond us. Uninvited to our exposed and very much eroded defences, it declares; ‘We come in peace’ for only in peace, will it gain its objective.

Its mannerism, would suggest that it can only, oppress and not suppress. Leaving us unclear, of its potential to inflict damage, is it malicious - vile in character or is it benign? We tackle this ‘thing’ with caution, not allowing it to understand our resources be it; destructive or constructive. Yet unknowingly, it has studied us, knowing our inner selves, makeup and characteristics, more than our selves. For its success, is incumbent on its knowledge of its victim.

As it continues to creep its way into our system, we send out decrypted pulses of compliance, in order to barter the control of our system. But it holds firm to its resounding claim. ‘We Come In Peace’

Adamant that we should comply without complaint and allow ‘it’ to configure or direct our paths into a rather vulnerable position. That may very well lead us, into prosperity? ‘Let your shields, your Hulk, your Norton, down. Do not withhold your inhibition to feel at ease’. But we remain intolerant to its demands, at least for some. Eventually leading to our demise, but the fool is not hardy, nor is it hard to be the fool. But for the seemingly or unseeingly wise, who gave in to the entrapment of one’s soul. They will perpetually remain prisoners of the ‘thing’ the ‘it’ called Love.

Been a prisoner, for some time now, I can tell that its hardships are hard. But equally so, is its ability, to compound the word happiness with one’s self exponentially. Some try to extricate themselves from it, some successfully so, but finding themselves, in the ocean, looking at sea.