Thinking Out Loud

What keeps us going? What is our driving force? I have tried to search for that factor that is the driving force. What is it that drives me? Well, Scotch Whiskey is the driving force of my uncle, and it drives my aunt mad. Whenever I feel the urge to do something, I often wonder what makes me feel that way. Too much Red Bull and coffee or both may cause these drivinisms (or drivinations?) but they may also have side-effects of diarrhoea and insomnia (or both)? People have driving factors ranging from money, stardom to downright lunacy. Not me. I do not have any ambitions. Why should I have any ambitions? What if a Tsunami struck, the day I come up with an ambition? What then? I was about to make plans but the recent Queensland floods have made me a sceptic. Until I get a clear answer, I won't have an ambition. I'm not one of those, who plan everything ahead; well not planning in the long run anyway. I do not know what I will be in 10 or 20 years time. So what does that make me?...

I awake and contemplate a lone bird singing a tuneless song over a cup of tasteless coffee as the death of dew drops announce an unwelcome morning. A connection becomes lost in the vastness as I search in vain; compelling dreams of constant darkness. I want to forget the night full of cold kisses from warm lips; the smooth satin covers your figure and I shiver. Caring, loving eyes full of hatred as your frozen smile has torn me to shreds as each piece of my broken heart reflect our wonderful, not-so-wonderful life together. I die every moment, thinking of you the ghost of a future life I wake up to die again your love was poison, so was it remedy I abide by the laws of this land of disbanded memories as I am free to be chained, trapped in a maze, in labyrinths, in caverns and I find the lost souls that roam the hills and fall madly in love where the spiritual lust is pure as the driven snow. Lost but never finding a solution nor do I want to as my search ends where my life begins and I...

Poets croon, lovers swoon As the moon rises The sky deep red, like the wine Over many fine hours spent Among wails, broken-hearted tales For sale, dime a dozen Regrets, heartfelt greetings Met with cold eyes Set on destruction of the soul In whole, an empty shell Dwell on your fear, as you hear Mere words that torture As the life you borrowed A boon that will soon disappear Disown this life As others judge in disdain Ease the pain, of living A dying flame flickers Hope In a dark world of stark truths and spectacular lies World weary men, slaves born To the corporate throne, mourn As they watch a new dawn, alone The horizon darkens Awaiting the storm Torn between death and depression Turn your back to hacked limbs and severed lives As the pack of wolves descend Dissolving redemption, evolving mankind Blind according to the maligned doctrine Gaze at the stars and cry over the endless sky In smoke filled bars Behind closed doors As Religious Wars of Commercial Gods rage on The world as it...