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16

Jul

It feels strange to even speak. Why is it that it never feels like existing is a property that I have. Watching the world and those on it deteriorate. But we call age an achievement, as its also a burden, a curse. Waiting for all of us to just come and end this existence of which we may have left a mark, but soon disappears, like chalk masterpieces on a rainy day, we lose our touch, we disconnect what was left of any connection. Mortality is terrible, but at least it brings some sort of closure. An ending to our story, with answers still unknown, yet don’t need to be known any longer. We are pieces of chalking drawing until we are stubs or are gone. We then leave our beauty, until rain or the unseemly hose, controlled by others, intent on ending all entirely, either to forge anew or just to keep a blank slate.

30

Jun

People say that life is a journey,
A storyline, where we are our main character, we are the focus of this whole world, but no, we are all just here, stagnant, we don’t have a plot, no actual story, so we read, we write, draw, build, make, among others, just so we can make ourselves a story, even if it isn’t our own. A journey for others made by us, to help us cope with this lack of rhyme or reason. Even those that have gods, they still can notice it, but have given up a hard truth for a chance to have a purpose. To me, the whole point of religion is to give hope that this world is all we have, to give reason to do good deeds, to live a preset “good” life, instead of just watching this world pass in front of us, whether we notice it or not. Authors have seen this, that life goes on after one’s death. This thought that we are here for nothing is both terrifying and beautiful, since we can change this world to a way that we find wonderful. A piece of clay for us all to mold. And even with all of these unfinished masterpieces, we still have that underlying fact that we don’t know what happens after we die.

04

Jun

vanconcastiel:

eridan-amporadorable:

neurologically:

deanspelvis:

milesjai:

madlori:

leogursky:

Missouri Pastor’s Fiery Speech Against Equal Rights for Homosexuals Has Stunning Twist Ending

Pardon my French, but this Pastor is a badass mothafucka.

The entire speech is further enhanced by the insight provided in this YouTube comment:

image

(Source)

Watch till the end.  Trust me.

Someone give this man an award. 

He literally just slayed their assholes open wow

Watch how uncomfortable the people in the background get when the speech turns around. They were probably agreeing with everything he had said up until then.

Give this man a gold medal to go along with those cast-iron balls.

(Source: thesecretaryofnagriculture)

03

Jun

The thing about reincarnation is that it is true.
Everyday we will walk around, slowly deteriorating in our minds
Waiting for an inevitable end
While we are only able to sit and wait and move on.

The thing about reincarnation is that we have all died at least once before
Through what we call our hearts being broken, that moment of death
The end
And then we begin again, whether as the same as we were or anew
To keep on moving
Or to end
Because somehow we either reached nirvana or we have given up on our search for it.

a-shy-stan:

Im annoying

You’ll have no joy saying false things

02

Jun

It feels as if we all have a rhythm
Some sort of sound behind even the most stagnant minds
Just resonating, while turning a page quiet or throwing a desk loud
Composing a song more ancient and knowing than we will ever achieve ourselves
Just going along with the drumbeat of the universe
Everything happens for a reason, but this reason will only come if it shows in the song
The world is random, erratic, but all around it comes the slow callous sound of the seas and and the hills
That high squealing sound of the beginning to the low hum of the end
All I can hear, all I can see, are the music notes, the page, the stanza
It just doesn’t end,
We are lost until we consider ourselves found, turning us from a ballad to a love song to a spoken word to a piano to a symphony to a broken guitar to a broken heart to a blood flow to a lost soul to punk to prose to poetry to complex lies from simple truths to the dead to the living to ink to pencil to eraser to the end

5k0rp10:

Okay, so we’re lost

…yeah

Physically or mentally?

A bit of both

Okay, well, at least we’re not dead

Are you sure?

If we were dead then we wouldn’t be here right now

Are you so sure that I am here?

What?

Where did you go?

Were you ever even here?

The end was never here my young friend, we just began again, anew, unknown even to you

Okay, so we’re lost

…yeah

Physically or mentally?

A bit of both

Okay, well, at least we’re not dead

Are you sure?

If we were dead then we wouldn’t be here right now

Are you so sure that I am here?

What?

Where did you go?

Were you ever even here?

30

May

I don’t understand why morals of the old matter when the world has become new but with the comeback of old designs…

29

May

They’ve finished the last line
And now they have no story to live for
But still hoping and dreaming, they
Cannot imagine a world without a story so crooked so lost
Death is not the end they say, but why just we
Escape? It’s always meant to happen
For why would we find so much wonder in life without the idea of
Gone, disappeared, not around, no longer existing except through
Hearts and minds and ideas, lost among those they knew before
In this, though, we find sorrow
Joy, too, we are not lost, we just haven’t found what we are
Know this, people may find you lost, lightheaded, even brash
Love, through others, yourself, to the abstract or object
May forever confuse, and even those who choose not to love
Now live for some ideal that those that don’t may never see
Or, lest they find themselves in changed mindset
Perhaps young or old, finding a piece of them uncharted
a Quest, moving on to see the end, never allowed to
Rest
See, the thing about social life is the fact that supposedly it’s
The nature of us to understand it, to be active in it
Under what we are told to be normal behavior
Vested in vaudeville, this vicious drama begins,
While the stagehands the elements, the beasts the actors, man
Xenagogues, leading the spectators to their seats to watch he end
Zoos, more than theatres, we act for ourselves and wonder what lies Outside