So I’ve been trying to think of what the best metaphor for life is, and I thought that it would be interesting to see what other people think too. If you have any thoughts about life as a metaphor, say so as a comment. It can be about any facet of life, looking at it from any angle, but make sure you explain why you think so. Feel free to share, this is a judge free zone! I’m very interested to see what other people think.
Che gioco complicato tra
The people flock before my eyes
they have purpose,
their legs propel them rampantly,
their eyes full of desire.
Their feet pound the pavement
with the thrill of the night.
Excitement pollenates the air
leaving a numbing sensation
at the tips of their fingers.
These people gravitate
to the well lit houses,
where they mingle and mix
with people they will never remember.
Here, at this party, or that party,
they find meaning.
It’s might be hidden
at the bottom of their bottles,
It could be in their forgotten memories,
or those first encounters,
that will be first encounters next time they meet.
It might be in their hollow cackles of laughter,
or just at the prospect of a new adventure.
After all, didn’t the Buddha,
or Confucius say that you can find inner peace
with a little reckless mayhem?
If only the sensation remained,
beyond sobering up.
We live in this kind of paradise
where the stars follow the sun
and the roses stay red
and the wind beats gently,
on the back of the waves.
Of course the wind can get violent
and thunder can clap
and a storm can drown the grass,
but not everything is lost.
Just beyond our sight, the sun
and the stars still
would make us feel insignificant.
And so, things might
get a little messy in this kind of paradise,
but the stars
will always follow the sun,
and the roses will always be red,
and the wind will always beat gently,
It’s just beyond our sight,
but only if you keep looking.
So keep your head up for as long as you can.
Your eyes have the potential to save you.
Keep looking for the stars at night
and the red petals juxtaposed against thorny bristles
and the light sea breeze
that cools salted sweat,
these small things could save a night,
or a year,
or a life.
What is rain to a crow?
Do they not feel as humans do?
Do they not fall from the sky,
as we do?
Can they hear the whispers
of the night, as I do?
Do they sit over the dead,
waiting for them to rise,
like we do?
Do they give everything
for nothing in return,
or kill for the thrill,
Do they think the world was made
just for them to wreck it?
Do they have a place to hide
from the sanity and insanity?
For are they not like us?
With the capacity to be perfect?
Or are we like them,
dark omens of a past life,
come to haunt the day.
Do we squeal to excite the hearts of the gone.
Do we peck at dirt,
just to survive?
Is it their job to remind us who we could be?
For a while, I took pride in the fact that I was able to upload something to this blog at least once a month. It wasn’t ideal, but still being in school, it was tough to find free time to creatively write, and then be able to post a final product. However, I think this will be my first post since maybe February. Between now and then, I finished my sophomore year of college and have had a month of vacation so far. I know that you’d think that summer would bring more free time to blog, but a lot of things have been going on since I returned home for the summer. Some things have been good and some things have been pretty bad, but I’m here to say that I will be posting more consistently from now on.
I will admit that between my own poor health and family emergencies, I haven’t been compelled to post. I’m not obliged to, so I don’t see an issue with that, however, I think that returning to my blog will be able to help me with this tough time. I think that you’ll be able to notice a change of tone in my words, but I don’t think you’ll find anything to be too depressing. Hopefully you will be able to relate to my words, because I hope to help anyone that is also going through a tough time.
Sanity is a privilege
don’t spoil it for everyone
but it’s too late for that
you used it like a toy
and now mine’s gone too
you have no brain of your own
you mold yourself so you can fit in
all you can fit into is a shoe box
the good times that were shared
are distant memories
old photos, all those laughs
they just leave a pit in the stomach
knowing everything that happened
was taken for granted
and still is
who are you
but a shell of former days
spreading the lies
that make me who I am.
I wrote this while I was sleeping
I wrote this while time slipped through my fingers
The shadows of dream land surrounded me
as I drifted off into another dimension.
Joy flowed throughout the air.
It was contagious
and it was outrageous;
But oh so beautiful.
The colors were indistinguishable,
they played tricks on the mind.
Everyone one speaks in unknown tongues.
The rules were written on stone;
those stones are blank.
Dreams are written by the beholder
of the most perfect world
that ever existed that night.
All though none of this lasts past the night
it was more real
than any reality you will ever known.
I am at your every whim.
I can be whatever
you make me to be.
Mold me to your heart’s content
I won’t complain.
Make me a super hero,
so I can save your life
Make me an airplane,
so we can reach new heights
Give me all the power in the world,
so I can share the greatness (only with you)
Appreciate what I can be
because while I’m being
all that you desire
I’m still being
your best friend.
No matter what I be.