And round it spins, and round it goes around your fingers; a perfect world in a perfect circle, a portal through which your soul is channelled to the heart for which it longs, to a cradle in a room that is your home, to an empty bottle, to a lonely glass, to a desolate shadow that is not yours to embrace.
Your eyes can no longer sleep, awaiting a ray of light that’s gone astray, for all you see are blackened shards of shattered glass and bleeding curtains of murdered hopes. You turn the ring, you close the portal, you lock the door, and back to the darkest of all of them corners you crawl.
“Stolen chords and borrowed rhymes,
fractured songs of madness
Echo with the bleakest chimes
dragging trails of sadness
By the altar of the lost
and torn, her vows she’d utter
Bathed in darkness, with a crown
of thorns, her heart aflutter
So broke the void from whence he show’d;
a crow of wit and age
And there he stood, with night adorned
Thus quoth the sightless sage:
“This my kingdom, thou behold
nigh the shores of Lethe,
nurtures neither love nor gold
hence foredoomed shall be thee”
Stolen chords and borrowed rhymes,
fractured songs of madness
Echoed in my bleakest times
and wrought my life of sadness”
Idiots, waiting for the end of a 365-days cycle to plan, love, forgive, do “good” and remember the ones worth the remembrance; all to be forgotten by the dawn of a brand new day, a day that’s no different from any other day except for the stench of shame that stinks off your soul during a 24 hours marathon of alcohol consumption, improvised patriotism, consumerist-grade immaturity and primal screams of beasts trapped within.
Time is defined not by the way you break it down into equal, swallowable doses of darkness and light, but by the deeds that outlast the decomposition of your mundane existence, separate from time and space, separate from the temporary selfish measures of right and wrong, separate from the savage genes which would kill one of their own to survive a hand-made apocalypse.
Here a toast, to a species that keeps stabbing itself in the hand, forever learning, forever failing, forever falling, and soon to be wiped off the face of the earth.
The harder I try to understand what they want, the deeper I drown in misconceptions. And the harder I try to speak my heart out, the further they’re lost into misdirection.
Raven, queen of land and skies, guardian of the shades and seer of all that dwells, to your eternal wisdom I submit my heart, and the answer I await to all that burns inside.
And then I have to pretend that nothing has happened, that the night has never been, that the words were never spoken, that the dream I once had and the wish I once smothered were never those of the distant soul for which I’ve yearned; for when the sun rises I am the only one who knows, and as the sun sets I am the one to never sleep, for I am the one who saw, I am the one who heard, I am the one who felt and the one who tasted your tears.
Terrorists, martyrs, soldiers or mothers; you all look the same engulfed in a flame, and the burning flesh smells of a dying wish of a prophet without a name.
This piece was found in an email I sent to myself on the 2nd of August 2012, I don’t recall writing this at all, neither do I remember what it is about. But there’s one thing, and one thing is for sure; they are already here…
Microscopic cyborgs invading stagnant brains in search for recyclable nerve cells and unused storage space. Grey matter matter not anymore; you are but a defectively engineered, high-maintenance, low-efficient and constantly pollutive mess of low-voltage transmission lines and carbon-based circuitry. Micro-cyborgs now come with nanotubes and atom-scale pneumatic drills, Micro-cyborgs know what is best for you, Micro-cyborgs shall set you free…
These my words shall not be judged by a poet, a critic or a writer, hence them I hang on desolate walls and them I shout into the void. They’re meant not for the tainted hearts or tainted minds, for they are not but fading rhymes for the thirsty wanderer, soothing chimes for the lost and the mad, aching howls for the deaf and the wicked, and waning hymns for a barren god.
I await for my soul to transcend your mundane filth and inherited ignorance, as I leave this my corpse for your fangs to shred and your hungry lustful eyes to devour all which does not last.
Tired counting the seconds, tired watching them fly away as the halo wanes, tired wasting minutes, hours, days and years waiting for nothing, waiting for no one; no one but a phoenix, bathed in darkness, shining with a blackness of a thousand crows, for she is my raven, for she is the end for which I yearn.
I cling to your shadow, I scream your martyred name; Black Bird, guardian of the night, keeper of the keys to my insane mind, don’t leave this hawk blindly drifting southwards, don’t fly before the dawn takes me away, don’t burn until I burn, don’t fall unless I fall, don’t die before I do.
You greet the pellucid walls of thin air and redundant space, scanning them with blurry eyes, it has been some time since the two of you had a genuine conversation.
I know you gave up on planning, for it seemed not to ever work, but there’s this someone, this out-of-the-Matrix individual, who makes the relative heaviness of the burden of time dedication feel relatively bearable, yet absolutely worthwhile.
I don’t think time matters when it comes to these few, these singularities, these ones of a kind, the ones you never knew yet yearn to unite back with, the ones whom lifelines shall interweave with yours—or thus you aspire—, the ones who found their way out of the headless crowds amongst which they were raised, the ones who follow not, nor lead the herd, but stray away from the paths once paved by their forefathers, finding their own destiny, sculpting their own future, and seeing you in it.
It is for the one who makes you sway your quill with binary thoughts and scribe them onto the frail walls of imaginary space, the one who makes your ashen heart of a leopard-hawk reclaim its colour and ache again with melodies of alien hopes, the one who makes you render undying structures of concrete dreams and artificial realms for the barren minds and forlorn souls, and see a reflection of a human form in these shattered mirrors of age; a form that has been replaced by an abhorrence of an infernal shape since the departing of faith.
And you thought it was the time you got back to erasing. But I think not, my friend, for it is time you rewrote your fate.
“Guardians, down the hills they march
and blackness they beset
As watchmen eye them from afar
and havoc they beget
Seize them words of baleful bile
blighting this my fit
for now I ride to earn them scars
and them I shan’t regret”
The deeper you dig in this chaotic mass of thoughts, the stronger the gravitational pull of your grey matter becomes, sucking in all the dark words you want said, drying the black ink off the sentences you want written down, and negating the third face of what once was a trinity. And the closer you think you’re drawing to the balance you sought out, the further you find yourself falling, down to the compressed space-time of your black-hole mind, where your existence collides with your illusions, nullifying both, and your dark thoughts clash with your conceptual being, producing artifacts of anti-matter and emitting rays of black light, only to be pulled back in beyond the event horizon, where your memory—or what is left of it—gets scrambled and randomly scattered all over your multi-word DNA deviations.
An absolute erasure of data in its physical form, a 40,960 bit encryption in a quark-plasma cloud, and you thought you were too alone? Wait until you meet singularity…
Never in my conscious existence have I imagined that someone can be brought into my life, and then be taken away in an instant… It hurts… It fucking hurts…
This is the one you cannot see, the one who hides, the one you’ll never hear, the one who lurks in the shadows of his own smile, the one with a black hole for a heart, a black hole for a mind, and three black holes for eyes…
An unexplainable feeling of guilt for a sin I haven’t yet committed, and a haunting sense of shame that I can’t run away from… What Have I done to deserve this…
You can feel your insides getting torn apart… And then you wish it was for real… You wish you could just leave this fucking hell…
You can feel hatred filling the void within, as anger crawls out of your blackness tickling your fingertips… You want to kill, and you know your target… He’s right here… Inside of me… Oh how I wish I could slit his throat…
Do you realise how much I hate you?
Do you know how hard it is to laugh while you have nothing but pure fucking hatred inside?
It’s brewed from the ashes of the last Raven-Phœnix, the one who opened the eyes of the blind, then shut her own; never to awaken, never to rise again…
What a beautiful day! To my fellow mortals; humans, cats, ravens, crows, angels and phœnix. To my fellow illusionists, craftsmen, musicians, artists, geeks, warriors, poets and rebels. To the hopeless, the honest, the sad, the ugly, the moron, the sane, the dead, the brave and the wicked. To those waiting to live, to those wanting to die and to those now watching over us. To YOU, the prisoner of your own virtual cell, locked up behind curtains of smog and walls of multi-touch displays, to YOU, once the dreamer, now the nightmare chaser. To everything that breathes, and everyone who no longer does, such a wonderful day to waste, such a glorious day to kill, such a good day to die…
Disgusted, all the way deep down to your inner-self… Your hatred grows tenfold with every beat your crippled heart tries to make… Love has no place here no more, as you can almost hear The Guardian impatiently boiling as he climbs up, with his claws piercing through your throat, promising of a painful takeover, chanting with fading words of an eternal anthem to self-destruction…
Back to confusion, looking for words and reasons haven’t been harder, you barely have enough will to move your fingers and press these buttons; but they’re aching for something else… It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the trigger… Maybe that was your only chance…
I’d give ten years to go back another ten, to slap this kid in the face, to wake him up, to let him know it’s not worth it, to kill the coward puffin within, at least then some good could’ve come out of him.
You’re forcing words out of your fingertips, I’m trying to hold them back but you won’t let it be… I don’t want you to read my lines yet I’m throwing them unto your face, it is the mundane silent scream for
I think they’ve completely misunderstood the point of us “having a brain”; they’re supposed to “use” it, not deplete it by a non-ending stream of small exhaustive quests and a series of stupidly mixed error-rich signals, that’s what MACHINES are for…
Yet sometimes I wish I was one of them machines; for at least they’ll have someone to take care of them, oil the gears, clean their parts, and fix their short circuits may an idiotic user decide to use his child-like creativity and convert them into a coaster for his coke… But then I turn towards the mirror, and what my photoreceptors send back to my occipital lobe is nothing but a blurry image of a rusty broken engine…
ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:13)
A blank mind can do no good to anyone… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:14)
But in this age you don’t need to commit suicide…
There’s always someone who’s willing to do it for you…
For free…
Change… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:15)
Open your heart to the dead…
For the living can only make it worse…
The dead will never judge your language…
They can read right through your words… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:16)
They know what you mean…
They know what you are talking about… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:17)
Raven…
Phoenix of the black dusk… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:18)
It is time…
He’s waiting…
Come and take back what he owes you… ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:27)
H.Q. ΞΨΞ ŦџġєЯ Ω ĦəшҜ ΞΦΞ … said (22:28)
22:27
Tue. 17/04/2012
Don’t smother yourself within your digital curtains, don’t waste your life behind progress bars; for the day is still young, and so you are. Go out, leave this colourful cage of yours, let whatever is left of life breathe into you, and get to know the Sun…
In a world of stolen words we live, in an age of copying thoughts, in a time where everyone has something to say, but no one has a thing to do but spitting out them words they utter…
I speak not but of my own self, I speak not but the words out of which I bleed, and with the same words this web I weave, to catch you, the lost, the blind, the fractured flies of a human race…
Speak, shout and scream, for that is what they want you to do, they sold you letters and syllables, and they bleached this grey matter of yours so you no longer know, no longer feel, no longer do what apes should do…
Shut up and live, and speak up once your words do matter, once your words do change, once your words are more than a copycat of a torn schoolbook on an altar of hate…
Yesterday, around 19:00 GMT, three young friends of mine driving through a military checkpoint for the Syrian Arab Army on their way to Homs, to celebrate Easter with their families, were asked to stop… what happened at the checkpoint is a thing that we’re all still waiting to find out, but what is for sure is one thing… Fadi Garrouge is dead… Nadim is injured and Ibrahim is wounded with gun shots…
Three pro-Assad peaceful civilians and good friends of mine, two injured and one shot dead by the same soldiers who vowed to protect them… What an Irony… What a shame… It only makes you lose faith in everything and everyone… For in the end, all you held true to your heart was a lie, and all you once trusted with your life is the first to stab you in your face…
Armies, religions, blind beliefs, tyrants and Gods, what have they brought us but death, separation and destruction. Pro or against, your blood tastes the same to the maggots underground, as so it does to the maggots above, spewing hate, screaming vengeance and breeding blind headless generations that follow nothing but the words of their Gods or the trail of molten lead bleeding through the skulls of their ones beloved…
Awaken my brethren, Ye Sons of Baal, the time has come for you to open your eyes and follow the light, the light of your own hearts. Kneel not to a God neither do you bow to a mortal, for in the end, they all shall fall, and only those who’ve followed none and knew how to walk their own path, shall walk the path to freedom, the path to eternal bless, the path to the land where they once belonged; now soaking red, overfed, waiting for the sun to dry its soil, to shine again through clouded eyes and hearts of smog…
Fadi… If there was a God, I’m sure he’s now laughing his ass off at one of your fucked up jokes… But there’s none, so you’re left for us here to cry…
Fadi Garrouge… My friend… May your soul rest in peace…
Sad is this day, the day we all got used to the limited virtual colour range, all we see now is sRGB tagged, and all we hold has a best-matching Pantone cloned -again- especially for it… We have an entire new generation that cannot see beyond 16 million colours, and thinks that Amber is the pale orange-yellow shade they see on their iPads…
“Rich” and “Vivid” are what we see when we push the saturation and brightness levels up to +100… We break our surroundings down into their RGB values yet always fail to recreate the shapes, we block the sun rays with our expensive shades, and desaturate chlorophyll to match our cheap printer’s CMYK colour profile. We’ve lost our shadows and dropped them behind gradient squares and badly-crafted lines of code, we’ve sacrificed the hot summer air in exchange for the recycled smog we get from our A/C’s, and gave up our 4-hours game of football for a 15-minute match with virtual hogs and motionless sloths, gulping gallons of acidic flavoured water and devouring mashed corpses of birds and other insects fried or grilled with a choice of one of three indifferent artificial chemicals.
What else have we left for the little monkeys inheriting our dumpsters and dead-ends? What is it that matters, that we have left for the unborn poets to ponder upon, and the stillborn dreams to nurture in? Why do we even bother breathe? Why is it so hard to lift your head up and check the starless sky for one more time? Why is he staring at us? And why is he laughing? Why is it so cold withinside? And when does the whole sick game end?…
I am the Shadow Walker, roaming the land of the living, lurking in corners, hiding in caves and wandering under moonless skies… I live through your fear, feeding off your hate, and thriving on your negative thoughts… I cling to your nightmares like a reverse hook to an unwary fish, sucking all hope and draining your will to live through invisible wounds and long forgotten scars…
Beware the night, for it belongs to him, he who walks the shadows, he who kills the light, he who embraces darkness and enslaves all that breathes… He who owns the lives of all but his…
What is it if it’s not for the few, the genuine, the genius, the mis-employed, the forlorn talents waiting in patience for the day to come, for the misinformed, hollow, brainwashed, tasteless, consumptive, over-appreciated, over-paid and narcissistic masses of sheep to notice them…
We are the silent masters, we watch them fail and slowly fall as we laugh in secrecy, we know it isn’t but a waste of time, for when the time shall come they all shall kneel on their digitally-crippled knees asking for the magical recipe for fire… And then, my brothers, we shall rise to burn again, from our ashes, from the spider webs covering our wings, from the rotten thoughts and slimy dribble dripping off their stagnant minds… The Phoenix is not a myth, the Phoenix is not a dream, the Phoenix is not a lie, the Phoenix is not dead; I’ve seen it with my own blind eyes, but the mirror shattered for it could not withstand the heat…
H.Q.
IV:XIV a.m.
dies martis, ante diem II Nonas Ianuarius, anno MMDCCLXV a.U.c
God kid… It’s snowing as if it doesn’t want me to ever leave… It was snowing since 20:00 yesterday… then never stopped but for minutes; only to bring more snow and cover the whole town… I really wish you could come here… Right Now… I’ve never seen such beauty since 1992…
Suddenly all your childhood memories come alive on a fragile white stage… Weird, how a deaf cold layer of crushed ice could bring such warmth to the heart of a dead crow.
And still the rain comes down to wash all our sins… 14 hours nonstop… And we’re yet unclean.
Maybe water isn’t pure enough… Maybe God should’ve used fire…
I’m sorry Raven… I’ve passed your words to someone who shouldn’t have known of them… But it’s not easy…
I’m sorry…
Those words shall now be sealed, if they are to ever be spoken again then it shall only be when they’re given back to you…
I’m searching in my daydreams for the future of your reality, and all I see is blood, mutants, shattered faces trying to keep me away from the truth… I don’t trust them, I did never trust anyone but those in black feather….. I’ve got the scrolls, the old texts, they’re safe in me…
Emotions interweave with a momentary loss of vision, as they draw paths of their own, swerving away from a destination once set by a knowing, all-seeing, conscious mind; on which it struggles not to drift astray. But then you try to push it and then push it more, and ultimately fall into a sudden wake of the self, it leaves you out there, emotionless, a naked mechanical skeleton exposed to the eyes of a species to which you’ve never belonged. And then you try not to lie, for you have meant no harm, but end up doing more harm than what your lies would’ve caused, you try to use logic, for now the brain is master, but you find out that those who demand it are those who are hurt the most by it. So now you’re standing there, not knowing what else to do, for in every move you do you’re breaking wings, in every step you make you’re shattering mirrors, and in every word you say you’re disfiguring faces once ablythe; and now you’re dubbed a beast, a catastrophic mess of an unholy creation, for you have succeeded to ruin every beautiful thing you’ve ever cared to keep, and break every precious soul you’ve ever wanted to please, and no matter how hard you try to make it right, your words are failing you once more, choosing to add more to the misery you’ve never meant to create…
And then you wish that everyone was as simple as you are… I am here, and I won’t go nowhere… I tried, and I tried more and yet I failed again… I am what I am, a defect miscreation of an imperfect God, take me for what I haven’t chosen to be, and I would promise you nothing, nothing but an everlasting memory in a dying brain, nothing but a promise that you would be left unquestioned once you’re tired of this old owl, nothing but a fluctuation of anxiety and sudden bursts of manic laughter, nothing but a few smiles and a lake of tears, nothing but an honest word that would hurt you and hurt you again if you don’t give up this selfishness of a human nature and instinct-driven canister of selfish genes… I’ve never demanded a single thing from an alien soul, and I never will, all I had to offer was this chaotic mess I am, I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t belong to any place, I’m only alive for I know I’ll soon be dead, and that’s where I truly belong…
You, on the other side of the night, my newborn morning has been announced dead on arrival, and my tomorrow has already been rendered wasted…
Reason helps not those with anger, sanity helps not those in pain, only the loss of patience can bring you change, as dreams forgone open wide the gates for hate to conquer, taking over this my faceless innocence, unleashing my Cerberean self to spew out fire into the hull of the soulless shells of them; the ignorant illiterates; controlling the wheels in motion…
Yet it all ends somehow —that I know, thus I wait…
I still remember that day quite clearly, as it was one or two days before the first school day of my last year in high school, I remember waking up to my brother’s voice, I looked at the scene and it took us all quite a while to absorb what was really happening… It was very shocking, and it was so real, we were all frozen in front of the TV screen… We wanted to believe it was only an accident, but then the second plane hit and cleared all the doubts… We knew something very wrong was taking place, we knew lots of lives were being lost… We only didn’t know that this is only the beginning of a new era of fear, an era where even more innocent lives are going to be taken, and a new tyranny is ruling the world we once knew…
The US invasion of Iraq and Iraqi refugees fleeing to Syria have had a deep impact onto the well-being of the economy, demography, education and the quality of life and even the sanity of the nation, as the influx of refugees counted in millions brought with it a new language to the streets, new traditions, AIDS, weapons, racism, radicalism, and a sudden rise of prices of commodities, fuel, food and accommodation which was easily absorbed by the Iraqi families as they had a much better financial condition to start with, not counting the thieves and criminals taking advantage of the chaos of the war and stealing large amounts of money, cars and gold and running away to Syria to live a life of kings, while Syrian families had to suffer more trying to catch up with the skyrocketing prices being doubled or tripled for food and basics of life, and up to five to ten times more for accommodation, and then it started taking a downhill curve when Iraqis started buying properties and taking over businesses once owned by Syrians, bringing in their own workforce and adding to the unemployment of the Syrian people which was already too high…
All that, and we haven’t even started talking about what Arabs in general and Muslims had to go through and still do every second when it comes to the freedom of travelling, tourism, working, studying abroad, and even moving in their own towns or visiting their own families overseas, and the horrible cases of discrimination that we had to go through even when we were clearly not Muslims, which some friends had to go through even though they were Christians! And of course, the increased security measures taken by all countries and the screaming invasion of privacy and freedom on all levels all over the world under the name of national security and fighting terrorism…
Some might say that the USA was bitten by the snake they raised, but the truth is, this snake had eggs waiting to hatch, and what they needed was a tiny bit of hate and heat, generously supplied by speeches of prejudice, falling bombs and burning grounds, now the descendants of the first snake are running amok around the globe, bringing hate, death and destruction to every child on every corner, slaughtering smiles, hopes and dreams. And now the whole world is paying the price for a world-wide war started by a handful few blinded by made-up religious fanaticism and oil-fuelled political greed…
Terrorism knows no boundaries, and has no religion, and the best proof is the last massacre in Utøya, and as long as it’s fought with fire it will only keep getting stronger, which is what politicians and arm dealers are working hand in hand to make sure is the case, for they want people to cower silently in fear, watching their rights being shot down one by one, as more weapons are being manufactured and more are being sold to the very enemy we are fighting.
But it has always been this way, an endless greed and an unstoppable crushing force in search for money and power is leading the world to an imminent fall… But this has to end now… And I know that only you and I can make it happen… And only we can make a change…
