Fight the power

Procrastination isn’t so bad,
not especially in this world,
where you’re being dragged down rabbit holes of consumerism,
against your own will.

My indecisiveness and over analysis of the minutest details,
suddenly becomes genius.

The lack of impulse to dive into impulses is my greatest impulse.

Now, I’m not a spineless coward,
but a patient sage,
suddenly I’m not an emotional wreck,
nor do I throw tantrums with the best of them,
when I don’t get what I want,
but I’m a composed giant,
with far greater emotional intelligence,
than most of society.

How long will you let society,
quacks in academia,
and media lure you away from goodness,
from simplicity and minimalism,
from letting spiritual intelligence,
reign supreme over being an emotional simpleton?

My procrastination isn’t a problem,
it’s revolutionary,
a simmering of my soul,
bringing it to just the right temperament,
to resist authority.


past the gates

past the gates

the summit of my being,
is insignificance

the peak of eloquence,

the realisation of all realities,
submergence in non-matter

the destination,
dust of annihilation’s scatter


Gratitude can only be shown through action.
I tip toe towards my ultimate gratitude,
that is having nothing left to say,
no more questions, no more noise, no more vibrations.
There will be no more confusion,
as everything will just be,
and I’ll go from being,
to becoming,
to vanishing.

It all just is,
there is nothing nihilistic about it,
I’m ever the optimist in it’s lather,
where it all at once, does and does not matter.


escape plan


There’s a point,
you become so far ruined,
you have to create back doors into yourself.

That takes courage most won’t taste in their lifetime.

Those people are usually the artists, writers, poets and musicians.
They’re the reformers, revolutionaries, game changers.

A person swaying in a hammock of comfort wont be remembered, and I don’t trust people without these back doors.

It means they’ve never stepped out of themselves to hold themselves to account, everything is fucking dandy in their homes.

Introversion Impulses – 2

I can’t breathe there, that place where you suffocate me with the pillow of prosaic function, cant you see, the definition of that is dysfunction, malfunction, no junction, synapse sever, disruption, cut cord, short circuit, blown board, no words, too much herd, sheep prattle, wool damp with discord, the elephant isn’t in the room its sitting on my chest, birds nest, bullet proof vest, shots fired, souls bereft, treble clefs, piercing noises, nothing left, I’m deaf, mute got heart just let me rest.