Quite like a sir, yes.

Since always, I never stayed at one hobby for long.
It gave me various experience.
But I kept telling myself: do I really not have a talent for anything at all?

And only recently I realized it just doesn't work that way.
You need to find your thing.
Everyone has their thing
That thing, they're good at.

Most of us never find out.
You could be a great singer. Or writer. Or baseball player.
But very likely you'll never know.

Yet, it does feel quite comfortable to know you could be good, right?

We all can be creative.
If we manage to take over the boundaries.
There are more boundaries than anyone knows.
Of logic. Of money. Of society.
And of morality. But I wouldn't cross these if not necessary.

I don't know if these two things are connected; they probably are, but,
since I started writing here, not only I started much more to think about life,
I also got better at many things. Like expressing myself.
Arguing and presenting my arguments.
And at last, but not least, being just damn creative.
I wrote this whole thing as fast as I can type. You know what I mean now? (That doesn't make it any less worth, though).

The "five more minutes" syndrome

You know you'll be tired tomorrow morning.
And you also know you won't have time to sleep anytime soon.
So you should use the time you have know.

Why don't you?
Why don't I?

I don't know. The night is too beautiful to sleep through it.
It shouldn't be wasted.

It's much better than day.
It may be depressive a little, yes, but still...

Scientists say that without the sunlight, we'd be emotionally very depressed and confused.
Well I know I wouldn't.
I'd be happier.
I might get sick if not having enough sunlight.
But I'll stay the way I am.
Or maybe, I'd be happier.

Happier? Me? Utopia.
Never thought about being happier.
It's interesting concept.
For once, be happy for myself.
If I can't make others happy, at least I should try to make myself happy, right?
No.
There is no happier me.
My life is great.
Or am I only telling myself that?
Well, I don't know.


When I read a review for Lana's new album recently, the reviewer said the lyrics were stupid, because she says her life was tough and it couldn't have been, because she has rich and caring father.

What the fuck?

Since when exactly does rich father equal to happiness?
If the kid is smart, and I believe Lana is,
It's exactly the other way.
Dumb kids with rich fathers turn to arrogant little brats. No doubt 'bout that.
But being rich makes your life a little on the edge. The people you know, that destroys you.
If you have your own opinion, you get hurt in a very refined way.
Having your own opinion is painful, after all.
And yet, I believe, worth all the trouble.

Them wheels keep spinning.

I gotta keep them spinning.
I gotta do a whole lotta things.
I just have to keep myself running.
And start running at first.

Reality is no fun.
But fun wouldn't be fun without it.

Dark Paradise

You know what Dark paradise is?

This sentence describes it most genuinely:
"I don't wanna wake up from this dream tonight."

But now don't get confused; it's not a beautiful dream.
It's a sheltering one.
It's a piece of serenity and tranquility before the storm.
It's when you've fucked up and will face the consequences.
It's when you know you can't fix everything.
In fact, you can't fix even your own shit.
But still; you must never stop caring,
you must go on.


I wanted to blog all day today.
But it hurts.

Shame

Running down the street,
the lurking black blob of shame,
its face makes it hard to run,
so it catches me.

I couldn't have hoped to run forever,
All I can do now is to regret.
The room is dark,
only a yellow butterfly staring from the wall.

It stares with disdain,
ashamed to be on my wall.
I cannot blame him for that.
I blame myself too, as I should.

I should have worked,
I promised myself to.
But I have failed to fullfill,
though all is not lost yet.

Shame
it and only,
exclusively,
lives on.

Guilt

Failing is one of the most difficult things.

I know I'm not always saint, but I've always tried to do one thing; to help rather than to hurt.
There is this piece of conscience hidden somewhere, that tells me I haven't been so good at doing that lately.

And what hurts me most is, my actions render me useless piece of shit.
I can think, or say, what I want, but I get feeling I don't deserve to be heard.

Am I really complaining just know?
How stupid of me.
People are supposed to complain about me, after all, it's me who fucked up today.

It's Lantastic, really!

I just got my hands on Lana Del Rey's new album.
It's friggin' awesome.
"Darling, darling, doesn't have a problem, lying to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf"

Maybe too pop and less what she calls "sad-core", though. Man, I loved the first album (yes, the never released one, you can get anything on internet if you know where to look) even though all the songs sounded the same.

Now, it's not any less great and each of the songs is unique.
And in deluxe edition is 9 new tracks.

How we killed the government.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, for the hope of greater good, we got down the government website today. At first, attack was aimed at OSA, which is the true villain organisation. OSA, however, turned their website off themselves. So the attack had to change a little.

Basically, I don't agree with anonymous attacks. I'd say I even consider them an act of terrorism. So why did I participate?
It's a battle of 2 evils. You just have to decide, which one is worse.

I'm sure that the dear reader is aware of many downsides of hacktivism, if not, read my previous posts.
Rather, I'll concentrate on the downsides of ACTA and aforementioned OSA.

The OSA is organisation specialized in protecting rights of artists. But how? From every single CD, DVD or even an empty hard-disc you buy, OSA gets money. It may be about 1/10 of price, so it does increase the price rather heavily. And what does OSA do with the money? Well, part of it mysteriously disappears and the rest is handed out to artists within OSA. Which is only a few Czech artists. And you pay them for nothing. You buy a goddamn memory card to store your photos and you give plenty of bucks to some smuggy teenagers who play gay-pop. The financing of this half-state-owned and half-legal organisation is unknown, so the majority of the money is still nowhere to be found.

ACTA, on the other hand, wants to use private sector to be judges. That itself sounds like a terrible idea. ACTA requires your internet provider to cancel your connection if you break any law online, otherwise the IP themselves are responsible. Virtually impossible to realize. Not thought through. But that's not only thing the ACTA says. It mostly is against creation of fakes of any kind. It would prohibit generic medicine, which would have terrible effect on healthcare. Just think: if only company who invented a certain medicine can make it, it can ask whatever price it wants. It doesn't have to compete. And the more important the medicine is, more money the company can ask for. And for things to be even worse, ACTA is near it's passing. Of course bureaucracy in EU is pretty complicated, but majority of countries has signed ACTA already. Including Czech Republic. That's why the government got down.

How the media works.

To assume people will have some knowledge about a certain subject, just because it is often discussed by them is, as I've learned, very silly. Usually, less they know, more they talk. And another thing that people love, is putting faces on stereotypes. Mostly, they put themselves as victims and the others as bad guys.

Raw.

Being subtle and reserved is all nice, but...
Sometimes, you might just wanna unleash some energy. Something, that's been building up in you for a long time.
And luckily, masterminds of modern music have given us just the prettiest tools for the job.
Songs that raw, that a raw fish looks like a burnt one in comparison.

I mean, who wouldn't want to give violet more violence? Frantic mash-up of anger, desperation. Fight against ignorance. And, dammit, her voice was made just to fit these sweet riffs. 

Dat BASS. What more can I say? Oh, I know! The wordplay with "UH" is absolutely wackoo. And great.

A classic one. Pure mix of blood and sex-appeal. No additives.

Another load of stuff you can only understand in a very certain mood.

If you claim you need me,
you must see to it,
that I get what I need.
because when I can't get,
what myself need,
you can't get myself.
It's as simple as that.

Don't say you do it for me,
if I don't want it,
nor it would help me
and neither make me happy.
You don't make it for me,
but to be with me.
And that's selfish.
Though today it's more colloquially known as "love".
It's not love.

If you can't do it, you're not meant to.

Just think about it.

The longest journey

I guess I have always been a little pissed off at people for not appreciating enough the things I loved.
Many of us are, must be.
But I always had a quite specific taste.

Today I've been called a hipster and praised for my good taste in one conversation.
Not a common achievement, considering hipster is more of a pejorative term lately.

What I'm happy about is that I've convinced almost all of my friends about the artistic qualities of Lana Del Rey, one of my most favourite musicians. Shame no one gives a shit about Garbage, they're even better.

And TV shows?
Someone barely knows masterpieces like Californication, someone doesn't have an idea. But majority, upon seeing a trailer, decide it's not worth watching. Don't get deceived.

And finally, video games.
My dream is, that sometime in the future, I'll play Dreamfall with my girlfriend. It's great, dramatic, beautiful, better than reading a book or watching a movie. And it would definitely make me feel like home. Which I've been missing lately.

Told ya'!

Remember how I said there's gotta be more to this whole megaupload thing?
Check this out: http://www.digitalmusicnews.com/permalink/2011/111221airvinyl
Now it is quite clear, why anyone had interest in taking it down. 90 %, no additional charges and money for free download is a SCANDALOUS rate.
Though, it may also legally kill Megaupload. It didn't cause almost any damage, but all the pictures, artist biographies and samples were copyright protected. This might be fatal, as it proves megaupload owners' participation in uploading illegal content himself. Now the racketeering charge does make sense, right?

Argumentation at its finest.

A dumb man once said: "Intelligence can't win no war."
And a wise one replied: "But, then again, intelligence wouldn't start any."

I believe I made it very clear I despise Anonymous in the previous posts. I've decided, however, to go deeper and say very specifically what I disagree with.

To begin with, the WWWI. When DDOS attackers were trying to drop Ebaum's World website back in 2006, they callid it the "Worldwide Web War I". The same term appeared recently, when operation MegaUpload by Anonymous declared something like that. They said they'd want to start the WWWI. Silly people! You can't win ANY political argument at all by declaring how you're gonna fuck up your opponent and by telling stories just about how badass you are. You need a discussion, reasoning, you need to convince people who don't at all know about any SOPA or MegaUpload, that you are the one who is right. And there is just no way of doing that while maintaining Anonymous' anonymity and ways of working.

Fight against SOPA and against so-called "censors of internet's freedom of speech" is dangerous. Many influential companies are interested in it, big 3 of music publishers included. We are dealing with corruption in its finest. And only way to convince senators to vote against is through public. Now, they can see only their potential income in hard cash from these interest groups. If they could see potential political rise in form of support by people, they surely would go against SOPA. It is as simple as that. No senator would agree with Anonymous just because they crashed his website for a couple of minutes. In fact, it is mostly considered as an act of terrorism and US government has a long and healthy history of fucking terrorists' shit up. Not negotiating with them.

And what does even Anonymous do? Nothing much, basically. They managed to stir things up a little, but their factual acts are lying low. DDOSing website is nothing rare. It is basically as uncommon as bus being full or shopping mall crowded, because these attacks are actually only ongoing, repeating of refreshing the sites, filling it with more demands than the site can answer, thus getting it down. You do not need any skill or power to do this. Only a few interested friends. Surely, however, it makes you feel powerful. And you know what? Many websites all around the world get DDOSed absolutely unknowingly, during Christmas sales for example.

Anonymous is a terrorist organization.

If they can even be called an "organization".

Prove me wrong.

I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer

The title says it all -- the ultimate life formula.

Insanity included.

Those two posts below are what I wrote during yesterday's night.
They might not make much sense. But they captivate just how I felt.

Today tries to say that youth should be much more simple and much happier than it is in my case, in my friends' cases. And also, it reflects how unusable I was yesterday, after a party.

And Cry of the Humble, I do not know what that says. I must have gotten to a point, where I can't even understand what I myself wanted to say. Not sure if that's good or bad. Anyway, make your own opinion, that's the only thing I want. I must have been thinking about the some sort of inner beauty, that should be important more than "big tits" or "simple, happy live". I think I'll get to that sometime later. And one song that might have something to do with it is "My body is a cage". Which is almost an obsession for me recently. And that shit has some true meaning. I feel I can relate to it.

Today

Darkness surounds me

And I’m afraid.

Not cause of the monsters,

That dwell at night.

But because of monsters,

That dwell in light.

I fear for future,

I fear now.

Is it anxiousness I feel in my stomach?

Or just the coffee I drank?

Going on might help;

But pain won’t go away.

I know what I do not wish to know,

But no one will tell me what I want.

The mirror is shattered,

Every small piece send a reflection,

And the reflections all together,

Are me.

And the mirror shouldn’t be shattered,

I shouldn’t be in pieces.

And what I look for,

What I’d treasure most to have,

Is far, far away.

Today.

A cry of the Humble

A swan with a golden beak is looking up with pride,

Haystacks in the fields are crawling under sky,

But which is more pure?

There can’t be good or bad,

Because if it were,

We wouldn’t know it.

And when something isn’t known,

It basically isn’t, right?

No.

Hiding in obscurity,

The kindness appears,

Like roses in the wild.

There were three,

Three lines,

Three humans.

One of them was moonchild, in its innocence.

Second was She, with beauty to rule.

Third was Mr. Dirty-pants, not noble, but good.

Who was the purest?

The cleanest of them three?

Who should be known?

Dirty-pants should rose to fame,

Moonchild to just very man,

And she, she should be forgotten.

And, oh look!

It’s the other way!
The virtue is dead, anyway.

What have we learned?

It’s, we shouldn’t be.

No one ever should.

We've nothing but to live our very lives,

To not care ‘bout the others’ vice, is,

To be the best we can.

A good man.

Study evening.

All of us have spent and will spend many evenings with our notebooks and textbooks. So, I thought, why not make them nicer?

I made myself a certain ritual for such nights, that makes them feel a little special for me.
So, first, the most expensive part, get yourself a good tea.
Try Pu-erh yetti. Not a common one, for sure, even teashop might not have it, but, goddamit, you ain't have ever tasted a better tea. And make that tea real strong. You'll need it! Never forget to buy real tea, not some cheap tea-bag shit though. I promise the price difference is not caused by lower competition, but by the difference of quality.

Next thing on the list is light. Less is better. And it sure helps if the source of it is behing you.

And at last, but not least, the music. Something calm. Classical music is fine. Peter Gabriel is fine. And Zelda, Zelda is the finest.
Honestly!

You call me Nietzsche? Fuck you!

I was just solving a rather existential problem.
As you may know, if you read my previous posts, Freud had a theory about Superego, ego and id. Look it up, if you don't know what it is.

Also, important problem of Freud was how lose of consciousness - being drunk for example may affect you psychic.

But what part does it affect?

I found out is is the ego.

Being drunk does not change your outlook on people, nor what you think of yourself and what you want.
It changes what you want.

Ready or not, here I come, you can't hide.
I'm gonna find you and take it slowly.
Cause I love you.
You just don't know it.
And neither do I.

following the advice of Ernest Hemmingway, I have decided to write drunk. So far, so good. Only if those two people weren't kissing behind me, that would help.

I need to stay sober.
Oh, fuck that shit.

I need to let out some steam.
Might not help the body, but sure will help the soul, right?

PS: You have no idea, how much time it took me to write this without spelling mistakes. Viva alcohol!

You know what I like about this comics? He never stops smiling.

Hey! I have an idea! Let's piss people off! That would be SO logical!

As you may have noticed, megaupload. was shut down.
It is accused of spreading pirate content, costing copyright holders 500 000 dollars on lost revenue.

I am absolutely against this move.
Megaupload founders themselves didn't suport or publish any such content. They just gave the pirates (along with everyone else) the ability to post illegal content. When informed about such content, they were quick to delete it.

This way, every page where you can publish your own content could be sued- If you put some illegal stuff in comment of this article, I might very well go to prison.
Youtube, facebook, google, twitter, they all could be guilty of the same thing as Megaupload is.

My guess is, there is some political background play. Considering this is probably the largest copyright lawsuit of all times, it is highly unlikely to be coincidental to the SOPA. Someone is trying to prove their point. To either help SOPA, or to sabotage it. But definitely, to bring it out to public. Because well-known problem can be easily controlled by well placed bias.

So as I see it, Megaupload is a victim, who fell for internet's freedom.
In such a great cause, it might look like a small victim.

But still; exemplar punishments were always an attitude I've hated and I will not support it. Especially, when the intentions are unclear.

Though my language is dead, the shapes fill my head.

What is it all good for,

I mean, the meaning,

where is it hidden?

What do you want from life?

Nopa!

Today many passionate discussions about the 2 internet regulating bills "SOPA" and "PIPA" have spread all around them interwebs.

So I felt I have to make a statement as well.

First of all, I'd like to say that hating SOPA became sorf of a sport on the net. And seeing those hateful and misinformed opinions everywhere, but especially 9GAG made me think "dammit, these people seriously need to be shut up". And just about what these bills might do, right?

Now don't take me wrong; I support various opinions. But only if they are build on solid ground, solid argumentation. And just being told by a random internet person "there will be no cat posts if SOPA passes" doesn't quite cut it for me.

But let's put aside haters' blabber and look on - rather than actual damage this bill might inflict - on moral righteousness of the whole thing.

I dare to say this bill would impair personal freedom of free speech. You see, there is a problem with copyright infringement. Because almost everything is some kind of copyright infringement.

Lamar Smith, the creator of SOPA, actually uses background image for his website that he doesn't have the copyright to use. He could be legally punished. And he doesn't even know he did anything wrong.

I am sure this blog of mine broke many copyrights. Not intentionally. I am no criminal. I only try to express my opinion. That is what they call freedom of speech, isn't it?

There is no way to kill piracy.
Stop hitting our heads against the wall.
Better cope with it.
If we move on, progress, make ourselves better, piracy will no longer be necessary.
I know lots of people who simply can't afford their games and music.
And yet, they are more socially helpful and productive than some people who pay.

Fashionista

Shirley Manson in the latest V-magazine issue.

She is 45.

To be humble

Humanity needs one thing, one thing it always tried to get and never succeeded.
Humbleness.
Take faith for example - a great concept to teach people they are not the center of the universe. But how does religion work in modern day? Commercial, most important aspects of it - morality and learning your place in the world are being forgotten, replaced by xenophobic and homophobic ideals from people who think they have a copyright for truth.

What I consider useful is to spread knowledge about the universe and the outer space.
Shamefully, today only 2/3 of US citizens know sun is a star (!!!) (according to most recent research).

And that is why I set up a goal for one thing I want to accomplish in my life.
I want to learn the stars on the night sky.
It means a lot of work.
But it surely is a work I'd enjoy.

Night is beautiful.
And the sky is mysterious.

-The Antennae Galaxies. (Click to enlarge)

There sure is a point to it

Ernest Hemingway once said:

Write drunk. Edit sober.

Can you see the truth in it?

I know I have decided many of my important decisions when drunk.

And when I got sober afterwards, I said to myself:

"How come I didn't think of this sooner?!"

Perhaps?

This very morning I had a psychosomatics lecture.
That is actually substitution for sex ed with much more noble name, in case you're wondering.

And the lecturer said a thesis I found interesting:

One of many things your generation and younger are unique in man's history is, there are many singles. Consume-oriented society makes us feel we deserve the best and thus, you feel like waiting for a Swedish blonde chick to appear at your doorstep.

I simplified this statement for it to make more of a common sense:

Lots of people, who'd be great together just don't date, 'cause they're fucktards, who wait a damned miracle to happen.

Subsequently, this denies modern day philosophy of "the one".

"The one" is not someone you meet; it's someone you make.
It is the one you grow close to.
A solid column, holding the weight of all your problem,
if you are her column.

Our society is ridiculous.
And as I am learning;
Not only the society.
The people are strange.

BUSY BUSY BUSY

The wheels keep spinning.
Not even letting me catch my breath.
I hope I'll get to write a full post soon.
Not just this filler-crap.

Themes I need to work on: moral, memories.

Sorry-existence.

One of the few Freud's theories I agree with involves 3 words I consider vital to human psychology.
Superego.
Ego.
Id.
What are these?
Simple!
Ego is YOU. The actual outcome of your existence. It's what you do, what you say.
Id is the way you take your surrounding.
Superego is what you think, your basic wants and instincts.

Superego and Id combined form the Ego. They are sort of balancing forces.

And in some people, they may "resonate".

Example: pessimistic, gravely formal and perfectionist teacher works his almost entire life in a school that gradually gets better, becoming the elite, the students show (appropriate) high-mindedness.

The teacher starts feeling left behind. Start thinking HIS good ol' school is being swarmed by pretentious pricks who don't know anything, who don't give a shit.

He is not right. It is obvious.
But he has the power to make himself true.
He treats his lamb like a dog, making it a dog being only a matter of time.
He proves himself his right,
Exclude himself from society, that doesn't his most brilliant views on the world (or at least that's what he thinks).

He becomes sick and lonely asocial.

Why?
Wrong neighbourhood, bitch!

Everyone of us keeps theirs in a very special way.

Someone remembers feelings,
others remember landscape, or music, colours, or anything that invokes feelings.
And finally, some only remember cold facts.

Me, I see my surroundings.
There is a song, that when I play,
A flat resembles in front of my eyes.
There is a huge bookcase on the wall. The books are green, or blue.
Then there is the table, covered with a bright orange sheet.
Other things are mostly bleak, only these things really shine, stand out.

Another memory; another song.
It is night, I am sitting in a bus.
Leaning my head against the window.
The outside is dark blue, blurred.
Drops of rain on the outer side of window.
The colours are dark and shiny.
The roof of the bus above the aisle is dark red, maybe violet.
Two lines of blue neon lights go through the aisle.
The seat before me is of dark pink, covered with lines of blue, cyan, purple, red, orange.
And everything; as dark as it appears; feels full of hope.
That's what the music does.
And my mates all around me.
It's deep into the night.
We are going on a trip to Great Britain.
We are 13. We don't speak English so great, so it's a big adventure.
And everyone is very alive. Sorta feeling the moment, you know?

That's what matters.

The night

I love the night.

The calm serenity of the night.
The air and the breeze of night in the city.
The forgiving dark.

There is no such thing as good or bad...

...there is just ordinary and special.

And today, I believe, was special.

My headaches are killing me. I fear that I have some kind of migraine.
On the other hand, my dance class today was just...something.

I see now, why people enjoy country dances.
And,
the most important part of the evening,
that didn't really seem important, but is important to me.

"Would you dance with me if [her usual dancing mate, who is also my gay friend] won't come?"

Maybe, I was just the nearest guy.
But, I hope, it meant something, at least.

Did you ever feel "elephantine" in your conversations?

The stream of relationships is so complicated that sometimes you find out something you've said might have hurt someone, because of a reason you didn't know back then.

It's awkward when that happens.
Problem with these situations is such;
No one should be blamed.
But it's logical you will be blamed.
And you can't really say anything in your defense.
'cept that you were drunk.

Which is the truth this time.

-"So, you're smoking, then."

-"No, I wouldn't say that. I'm just trying it"

-"Oh, right, same with me."

...

"And I'm pretty successful with that so far."

I'd rather not give a comment. Just enjoy the awesomeness.

We're chained.

I have watched a many tv series in my life.
Only one ever affected me, though.

Californication.
Not only it has absolutely astonishing soundtrack,
it taught me one thing.
"At the end of the day, it's all about her".

And I ain't calling it a day yet.
I don't even know who she is.
But I'm certain about who she's not, now.
That's a moving on.

I  had my illusions.
They were lovely, innocent.
But they were still only illusions.
I thought I like.
I don't know, maybe I still do, a little.
Or more,
but I know, it is not real.
it won't ever be.
For the good and bad.

I've been trying to find you,
you.
You, who are not reading this.
You, who may or may not exist.

Do you call this one of my desperation times?
Don't.
It feels...
...strangely,
Oh, so strangely.
But strange is not bad, is it?

No it's not.

You, we're chained, you.

The clock is not ticking; it is going smooth.

The lights shine bright. Except for two lonely lightbulbs.
They do not shine, since they do not work.

So like humans!

MIDI drums watching from the corner of the room.
One eye yellow, one orange.

The crimson scarf is hanging down.

The computer says only (1) Facebook.
The work is done,
the time for rest has come.
To procrastination we shall,
fall.

Unleash the fury

I am very calm.
Or at least I try to be.

But one things that always get me all fired up is when someone denies the work I done.
Especially, when they know the matter less than I do, or if they know it too much to keep their heads cold.

EDIT:
Now that is just insane. I work my ass off on this thing and still get screamed at for delivering it "in time, but not earlier than I have to"

Silly! Silly! Silly!

I have seen the photos,

the people are so happy, oh so happy,

and I what do I?

I spent the night discussing,

about the meaning of the word "gourmet".

What a pisser!

HOPE: The bridge between the haven and hell.

 I see bridge.

I stand on one side.

In the shadows of crooked trees.

Meaning is fading on my side.

But the other side,

That is different.

It is full of flowers, shining with vibrant colours,

Naked people, with no fear, running around, their loose hair smells divinely; of apricots and banana.

They have happy smiles,

And they drink ambrosia’s nectar and eat its fruit.

It is almost not real;

Why are they there, when I am here?

Standing in rugged smelly clothes.

I am the deaf musician,

The blind painter,

And the retarded intellectual.

While they hear better than any humans; they know only one song though.

They see the sharpest, and they have the brightest colours of the world close at hand. But they don’t need painting. Everything around them is a pretty painting.

They are the most noble minded, but they don’t seek knowledge, for it is not the key to happiness.

When they were first there, they kept looking anxiously over the river, to the other bank.

"Is anyone coming?"

But now, even though their senses sharpened, they never look back.

They can’t see me, nor my misery, but I can see them.

I am the opposite of them and they are angels. But I am not a devil; I am not bad. But neither I am noble.

I fear the crooked trees.

Oh, the vile sounds!

Wolves are paying their prayers, for the dinner is on their figurative table.

It is me.

I want to run.

To run to the other side.

And the bridge is there, but;

It is not.

It is just a creation of my imagination; it truly is not.

They have stopped looking back,

But I never stopped looking towards them.

Their joy made me happy,

But that time is long gone.

So I will be devoured by the wolves again,

I will live again,

Another life of watching the other side of the river.

Maybe I will wake on the other side,

Maybe I earned it; is my debt paid?

Debt I never made, but it still is; the primal sin-

Most likely not.

I will stay here.

The birds will fly here to eat my flesh.

Only the eyes will remain,

Because the eyes can see.

They can see their joy and its contrast to mine misery.

Ears cannot hear the music, the one song they know, it’s too far.

So the ears will be eaten by the birds.

And I can do nothing.

And nothing else.

Or perhaps, I should jump into the river.

Oh, what am I thinking!

I know I could never swim over.

The stream is too strong, but it wouldn’t stop me; what would stop me is the metal ball attached to my feet.

The waterfall is near, just a while by the river.

The rocks beneath it are as sharp as bird’s tooth-

Piercing the flesh.

But one is different there.

One does not come back.

Something great could be there.

But nothing may be as grand as the isle of nectar, the isle I watch every day and night.

I aim high and I suffer.

But I am afraid of the unknown.

I am a brave coward.

But not a madman.

There is a chance, I wouldn’t come back from depths of hell that time.

Every time I was devoured by the wolves and my skin was pecked to death by birds,

I went trough hell and back here; or maybe this is only another phase of hell.

But if I went down the waterfall,

I maybe would fall to hell for eternity.

Maybe there is nothing else there, but hell.

But I can never lose one thing, for it is what I carry,

And it is what my debt is in, what I pay for.

It is not maybe a thing even, but it keeps me from failing.

It is a concept as simple as existence itself.

Hope.

HOPE: The submarine of deepest seas

Look at me now.

I’m lying in my bed, in my dusty bedroom, in my sweaty t-shirt.

It’s 2:00 am. I am contemplating about the past and the future,

My mind is swimming through depths of ocean of thoughts.

The depths where you cannot see, depths you cannot describe, not even I can.

The eerie tones are fading away,

The music is brutal, evil clashing with despair,

I hear shouts in the distance.

But they do not distract me; for I am not who they are calling; no one is calling me.

Am I a refugee? In the middle of wasted nowhere, yet not missed by far?

Or am I a soul that is wished for by many, only their voices are even further, beyond hearing?

A refugee it shall be, for that is how I feel.

I cannot breathe,

However it’s not sickness’ fault;

Neither the weight of my laptop pressing on my stomach,

The anxiety rooted deep in me is to be blamed.

Now there’s something changed, oh wait, do you hear it?

The tones fade no more; now they shatter in my earlobes.

The ocean’s waves are crashing upon sand,

But how can I hear, when I’m so deep, so far away?

The voices are gone.

But not for too long.

Am I paranoid?

Is there something wrong?

Yes, there is. The constant crashing is gone,

Now there are dramatic violins.

The dark blue and black waters change suddenly.

A crimson, wildly aggressive red is slashing through the nothing.

A submarine, carrying the treasure of utmost importance is the maker of this deadly light.

It’s the red flashing light on the upper red side.

I can see it, though I cannot draw it, for the image would be to dark-

Like an ambulance strolling trough the city of night,

The mirror turns and the light goes for another roundabout.

The floor is not far below.

There is no chance the tip of the submarine would turn out of floor’s way.

Dramatic music ceases, giving way to much slower sounds; the ones of tribal drums, church bells and cellos.

Submarine hits the floor.

But the floor is not of sand.

It’s a floor of chessboard.

I can see it, yes.

The colours change again;

With a brink,

Yellow and orange, in their most damaging and aggressive forms burn their image into the eye.

Not into the other eye, that one’s blind. Covered with a pirate patch,

The eye is a window to the soul, yet it’s patched.

What could that possibly mean?

Explosion throws the stones of black and white everywhere around,

There is no more chessboard.

It is merely a warzone.

And even its message to us is the same.

For warzone is a place of despair,

And for the submarine carried the treasure of utmost importance.

Hope, that is.

After a break...

Hey, it's 3 in the morning.
A second day of 2012.
A last year of humanity existance as humans themselves say.
It is stupid; why would you pretell your own extinction?

Anyway, I have created two great pieces of what might be called poetry.
I shall post them right away.
But before:

Some things defying the nature if what I consider my goals and hopes have occured.
I do not wish to be specific. Not more than this:


In our childhoods, we were taught about the bad guys, who would do anything just to get close to their love; no matter the obstacles. Kill her dear even. We learned to hate this kind of guys.
But as we eventually find out in our lives,
It is not hard, to become one of such.