Thoughts Illusions and Patterns of A Bohemian Gypsy

I still feel stuck. Most days are bland, colorless or the meaning behind certain stimuli doesn't seem to exist.  There will be a day or two, or maybe even a week where I feel slightly elated to some extent, but then it starts all over. As I go through this,... I don't even know what to call it. Best I can describe it, it is some variation of a neurotic schizophrenic psychosis. There is definitely a degree or neurosis. I have at least noticed a pattern in my thoughts that border on the line of depression. I feel anxiety most days and I have no idea where it comes from. The schizophrenia I notice in my attempts and desires to withdrawal.  The correlation between my own thoughts and my feelings is so far off center, I am only left confused in my obsessive compulsion to think. Think through the problem, reduce it to its most simplest form. Find common ground, make the connections and by default, find comfort in who I am and understanding in the essence of my nature. But the more...

        Rites and rituals, they seem to all be gone. Or maybe not gone but have become so construed by our society that the essence of what they are has been cast by the way side. Maybe there are some that see things the way I do, but I do know I want change. I can even see its latent course beckoning for awareness. But I feel as though the dogmatic fight me because they themselves are afraid of the change. Time changes everything. To fight it just means you prolong the inevitable.  And I feel put in the dark because of your antiquated perceptions of grandeur that fell by the way side as soon as I realized religion was not all that it was told me to be. I felt put in the dark when I realized that our politics were a giant fucking game that the corruption of which only  hurts people on every level. I felt put in the dark when I realized I was utterly alone in fighting this abhorrent war between freedom of mind, thought, expression and the condescending energ...

Nothing can take Superman down. The power, the force of nature, the heroine, the suave, the enchanted...not a damn thing except kryptonite. Have you ever been referred to as someone's kryptonite?  I have. Sometimes I think I only feel hurt and pain. Like nothing else would register unless on the spectrum of agony. I feel more at home there most times and this scares me. Like the only thing I recognize is the dirty grunge of a hollow soul, my soul. The empty cries echo off the walls of forgotten misery, I ache for a longing that I won't allow myself to feel and in the wake of it all.... a love so pure, so raw,....and I refused to see it. So what does the kryptonite feel? A beautiful emerald green, power so forceful the sands of time bow to its fury. But, it only knows to be, to stay true. And even in the honesty of its own  existence, a way still seems to find the destruction that it can cause. Like Murphy's law, anything that can go wrong will go wrong.  Even now, I feel ...

I can't say for certain why I choose to write such things down. Some times I believe that it is because I enjoy revisiting the feelings of what it once was. Some times I feel that it helps me to come to terms with what I know is of a surety. Some times, there is no reason except, that I feel the urge and need to do so. It could be that it is all of these within the same reason. What ever the reason maybe, I do know, that in putting words to my anguish, my grief, my triumph, my passion, my never dying love for those that I truly fall in love with, it helps me to see things more clearly. In a sense get the thoughts that plague my mind, out of my head. It happened quite suddenly. In a completely different way than my first experience with love. I had met her several years before, in the midst of my struggle with the repressed emotions of my first lost love. But even in that moment of time, there was something special, something invigoratingly different  about her. Different from all...

Perhaps it was her sleek raven hair falling down her back, like a dark silk glistening in the moonlight. Or, maybe her eyes that pierced through my soul with a fiery passion, yet captivated me with soft illuminating emotion, that caused me to fall in love at first sight. It was as if I were dreaming. I felt captured in a world of euphoria . My first love. That should explain it enough. The passion I felt for her was unmovable,  so much so I can still feel it to this day. For a year she  was my queen, bringing me higher and higher in a whirlwind of emotion, that I can only describe as love. I was young and passionate and had yet to experience her touch. Let alone any other woman's passionate embrace. Perhaps I was just naïve, or, so caught up in the feeling of passionate emotion that all I wanted was for her to be happy. Religion was the crucifix of my innocence. Adhering to the laws and standards of Christianity is what kept us apart. Not on an intellectual level that ha...

He had to do something he didn't want to do. But that does not mean he would not readily and willingly accept the outcome. Its the how to get it done he wasn't too keen on. Drinking his beer pondering the task at hand, and just like that he snapped himself out of it. No point in thinking about it right now. It was sure to happen so why not just go with it. Taking time to plan out the more important details of course. He could feel it coming on. That feeling in his gut ever so slowly growing more and more intense. Leaving him with almost absolute emptiness. Not scared in anyway, just slightly paranoid about something going wrong.Which is a delusional thought, because it only leads to bigger and worse thought patterns. Which, you and only you are projecting outwardly constantly. So, it manifests. You must crucify this treacherous unproductive way of thinking at the source, before it gains strength. Its no way for a man to live. Bound by his fear of fear itself. A sh...

The moon light was falling, gently, so silently if you listened close enough you could hear the almost in-audible  rumble of a heart, preparing for an exertion of energy. This heart, so light with freedom of will and natural beauty, had a secret. Remarkably similar to a "little white lie", but far more serious in nature and much more cunning in it's ways of romance. Finding its way in, unnoticed by the damned. He stood alone atop the pent house suite, in the heart of downtown Dubai. Gazing over miles of  dense white sand. Below him the city was illuminated like a carnival of stars, in the clearest blue pond. He stood tall, firm and very rigid, almost stoic in pose. Completely lost in a trippy world of thought. Normally about this time in the evening is when it begins. A hard day of work dealing with mundane banalities, which ironically enough is what affords him the life he lives. A gentle flic of his thumb to bring fire to life with the green lighter. A cherr...