Friday, October 16, 2009

Two to One

What can anyone say to sway the fists of those who thirst for vindication? What can anyone do to cease the tracks of tears that follow the aftermath of a strayed thought? All around, our dreams and hopes are crashing down and in their place we build a black faith, stronger and neater than any braided cordage, so intricately bound that it seems faultless. But if you'd only let go and allow the obstacles to meet in the middle, maybe you'd realise that it is but a faith that resolves all uncertainties whilst devoid of substance. Is that the resolution we all seek?

Two to one,
Static to the sound of you & i
Undone for the last time
There this was,
Hiding at the bottom of your swimming pool
Some september

Depth is relative, & i'd never claim such a quality. Why is it everyone's so eager to bestow it upon himself when it should be fairly obvious that the vanity in the proclamation itself is proof of the contrary? It is more than a few fancy words and a well-versed thought. Nor is it the rhyming of several stanzas of refined english. An actor could conjure as much without ever having made the connection between each individual thought. Depth is much more than that, it's an acceptance of life as it is without a cynic's view nor an optimist's naivety. Nor is depth related to wisdom. Of course, that is just my 2 sens. So said Socrates that: "I know nothing except the fact of my ignorance". Anyone care to redefine himself?

Don't you think i wish that i could stay?
Your lips give you away

Maybe we're all jumping the gun here. What do you know? What do you think i know? I'm not as smart as you give me credit for and i often have not the answer to my own thoughts, nor the means of deciphering them. But nonetheless, it is always selfish to string someone out on a line. But how was i to know if anyone awaited? When did it change that you could not bring yourself to wreak what was deserved? So that it only struck harder to know that the pinnacle may be more personal than i'd like.

I can hear it
A jet engine to the centre of the storm
& i'm thinking i'd prefer not to be rescued

But as the shells hit the floor, the echoes show me that i need no witness. I just need a little light, for the bridges on which we spat and sat miles apart, clinging onto the irony that inspired my jealousy. But it wasn't my intention, i had not wanted a separation. As the chrome sinks into my flesh i feel it displace the acidic heat, reminding me that i'm no saint. Definitely nowhere near as nice as some people seem to believe. Everybody hurts some time.

Two to none,
Roads that lead away from this
I'm following myself just this once
I got spun,
It appears you're spun as well
It happens when you pay attention
This could take all year

If i only take two steps back i find a more cheery picture. Or rather less dreary. What is everything we go through in comparison to the halls of time? Or even our life itself. We'll all leave the earth the same way we came in. Who knows what guidance we may have, or whether we even have a we to have? But what separates us, is how we go. But every moment, i change. Where at one point i was satisfied getting by in life, i've now succumbed to greed and the allure of money. It's only human, and i'd be crazy not to, some may say. But i say it's crazy that many of us are sucked into this mold, determined to produce line after line of gingerbread-men that can only look unique when individually packeted and scrutinized. Another slice of mainstream humans.

When it's quiet
Does she hear me
I'm jettisoned
To the centre of the storm
& i'm thinking i'd prefer not to be rescued

Pray, judge me not for what you read here though it can't be helped that most will jest and judge nonetheless. Maybe that's what makes blogging online so impersonal sometimes. It becomes difficult. Who do we blog for anyway? What do we blog for? Do our blogs reflect our thoughts or are they the facades we uphold to herd the school of thoughts in our ingeniously layered deceptions? Maybe, we're exactly what we want to be. & i wonder if my state of mind will die before i hit the commercialized wave of maturity upon gaining personal independence. Perhaps such a detached yet fully at-one view of life is most easily achieved without fear of getting by and even then it is difficult enough. What will become of each of us?

I can feel her
She's dying just to keep me cool
I'm finally numb so please don't get me rescued

How we love to muse the time away. How i see myself surrounded by whitewashed walls of music. But can i let myself be wrong? Will i fall asleep the same person? I refuse to concede, it's a fight each of us faces at some point in time. How can i allow myself to look back in satisfied regret?

& it's unclear
This may be my last song
I can tell she's raising hell to give to me
But she's got me warm
So please don't get me rescued

You don't have to believe me, and i won't say it. But when it comes to you, i don't remember lying as i always meant as much as i could understand. But as the sun set on us, i understood less and less. At the same time, i could not leave the wolves dancing around the coronal glaze, taunting them with whimsical ignorance. But i swear, i did the best i could. Neither am i trying to leave anything behind, but respecting wishes is the least i could do after all this. I hoped and i guess now the irony is only getting stronger, but it's the only thing i have left.

Say you'll miss me one last time
& i'll be strong
I need you, please don't get me rescued
Cause i'm feeling like i might need to be near you
& i feel alright so please don't get me Rescued
-Jack's Mannequin

To the bridges upon which my tears fester, note for note.

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