How is man to recognize his full self, his full power through the eye’s of an incomplete woman? The woman who has been stripped of Goddess recognition and diminished to a big ass and full breast for physical comfort only. The woman who has been silenced so she may forget her spiritual essence because her words stir too much thought outside of the pleasure space. The woman who has been diminished to covering all that rots inside of her with weaves and red bottom shoes.
I am sure the men, who restructured our societies from cultures that honored woman, had no idea of the outcome. They had no idea that eventually, even men would render themselves empty and longing for meaning, depth and connection.
There is a deep sadness when I witness a man that can’t recognize the emptiness he feels when he objectifies himself as a bank and truly believes he can buy love with things and status. It is painful to witness the betrayal when a woman takes him up on that offer.
He doesn’t recognize that the creation of a half woman has contributed to his repressed anger and frustration of feeling he is not enough. He then may love no woman or keep many half women as his prize.
He doesn’t recognize that it’s his submersion in the imbalanced warrior culture, where violence is the means of getting respect and power, as the reason he can break the face of the woman who bore him 4 four children.
When woman is lost, so is man. The truth is, woman is the window to a man’s heart and a man’s heart is the gateway to his soul.
Power and control will NEVER out weigh love.
May we all find our way.
Every day we find ourselves in the mayhem and operations of society..
Cinema, music and laws of attraction have made us keep an eye on the masses of flesh and bone to find the one. The alpha. The other.
Love at first sight
Target of affection
Freak occurrence in statistics.
The labour and daily routine that we live by keeps us moving..
Train tickets, terminals, cab calls and commutes.
Raves, reunions, apartment viewings and appointments.
The world doesn’t forget to turn, and the moon doesn’t forget to change faces.
Death is an accurate book keeper, and Birth is a virtuous time keeper.
Everything is written.
Maktub. Koudrat. Takdir. Destined.
We are spectators of beauty and visionaries of our desires..
We observe for a stone chip of time, to capture a moment of eye contact with another person.. to build a channel of thought, emotion and recognition in that very moment.
When the contact is lost, either by people walking through, or change in direction or merely a shy turn of cheek.. the connection is broken again.
But that small exchange is enough to intoxicate our mind with chemicals.
One look is enough.. I just need you to look at me.
Go about your ways.. you don’t need to stay.
But let me speak a thousand conversations in a second of contact.
I am blind in crowds.
So wake me.
Now I understand why Bank Robbers wear suits
“A city full of knights that have never been to war and princesses that fair no different from whores..”
“Don’t let the reality that I speak of burst the bubble you live in”
I can’t remember the last time I told a lie, a lie to gain someone, or to get myself out of a situation. See I’ve always believed that when you live by honesty, even your enemies will fear you because of the strength of the grounds you stand on.
‘Never Throw a stone and hide your hand’
One lie can only exist with another lie told.
I feel I can breathe better if the words I exhale come from the purest depths of my heart. But lately my demons have been getting to me..
We live in a world of liars, selfishness and paranoia, where no one can trust one another in fear of being sabotaged, hurt or exposed of their weaknesses. People plays games, reveal certain qualities and change shades of face. This is either a skill which they’ve gained by telling good person from bad, or a defence mechanism which they’ve been cursed to inherit. And it’s sad to say, that an honest person can be eaten up in this vicious cycle which seems to grow more ferocious..
Where do you find good people?
My faith was to never judge, my mistake was to trust too much.
There’s no such thing as Love without Collateral.
The people I think are innocent, turn out to be the demons of my nightmares, and so I come to the thought..
I need to Lie more.
Because honesty means you expose yourself to pain. And there’s so much a person can endure. Liars can win games. Liars take no risk. Liars can never lose.
It’s just an honest thought.
I’m sat here with an open book about bank regulation, along with pages of notes that i’ve been writing and looking at a laptop screen that’s too bright for my eyes in the morning..
Everyday is becoming a production target, working to meet deadlines and finishing the day with a satisfied output. We are utilized by corporate giants and government bodies to meet certain objectives to ‘fit’ into the programme that society has built for our lives.
I like how capitalism and freedom fit together like two lenses to create this vision of hopes and dreams, where a man can ascend to a life of lavish wealth and achieve self actualisation through hard work and ambition. Yet something’s missing…
I live in a digital generation, where energy is reused and the fashion is minimal. The problems of hunger and illness have been replaced with problems in paying off debts and how to overcome broken hearts in short lived relationships. The more I read about our society, the more I feel that we have narrowed our world, closing the blinds on what life really offers. We have become single units with an expiry date…
It pains me to know that my fathers’ fathers were more in tune to the notes that life composed for us. They were fishermen, artisans and warriors. Boundaries were set by how far they could travel before they were too old to return home to see their grandchildren. A world with no borders…
Living off the fruits that the universe created through astrological exothermic reaction, or maybe through an omniscient narrator, they were in the golden ages…
Danger was always present, from beasts of the wild and from marching armies of foreign land. But the people were so fine-tuned to the riches of life and to the beauty of the world they inhabited, that any threat to it’s harmony would bring out courageous warriors in them. For they truly loved their lives, and would die uncompromisingly for it to be passed on to their children.
They were physically beyond our typical desktop worker, and where as we go to a supermarket for food, they would set out with their sons in the hunt for their meal. Everything revolved around the values of family and in this day, even nucleus families struggle to maintain connection through the vast channels of globalisation. We watch YouTube videos trying to learn how to defend ourselves, and go to fitness programmes trying to combat obesity. We learn to cook by watching TV shows and printing recipes off websites. Our employers give us paid holidays where we fly out to man made resorts that offer high street shopping, clubs and pools by a beach. Why has the world become a shelf of products?
I’m sat here thinking about my forefathers, how they were young men already married with children, and far more established than I am. I wonder whether they were sat wondering how their childrens’ children would live…
I need to get back to my notes on bank regulation. I think im gonna eat.