The universal conspiracy of the universe a.k.a. life

I still haven't figured out life

And I struggle to pay rent or attention

I sometimes doubt there's meaning to life

- Or to being a slave of social convention

 

But it pays off to know

That the universe works in mysterious ways:

events are secretly interrelated

as life is a complex matrix of secrets, matter,

time measured in days,

and people who matter and leave

-to teach us a lesson,

and people who matter and stay

- to share those secrets with us.

 

They all matter, 
and have things to do

they all have a purpose.

And so do you.

"You are truly beautiful"

M.S.N.

The simple truth of the average person

They love out of vanity
and spite -
there's no good intentions
nor sanity -
just vice.
Their world is a mirror
reflecting their silhouettes -
simple people telling lies
and smoking cigarettes.

Vanity is sanity

Vanity is sanity
selflessness
an abyss,
in a world where living isn't loving
and loving is a shame;
where we fight wars
with violence
and criminals claim rights,
and peace policies take lives,
and loving husbands beat miserable wives;
where money is spent on things that make us miserable;
We buy and buy
and try to hide the holes we've dig.
Listless eyes
lifeless minds
lack of reason
or courage
to admit that we are at war
with ourselves.

Dark green eyes

Dark green eyes
stare at you
within them something quietly dies.
Hope stays
when lingering lies
occupy their depths of despair.
Dark green eyes
blissfully stare
filled with pleasure and pain;
for every moment of rapture
a fare
is due to be paid.
Deeper than ocean,
my dark green eyes,
you are soon to be taken
far away to the skies.

To M.

N.A.

Imagine that you're a 70-year old man or woman. You live in a house just outside town. It feels rather lonely, because, although your child and its family live in the house, they have work, and school, and math lessons, and jobs to take care of. They're only home after 7 pm. And you're looking forward to that. You have a small dog in the house that's your only companion from 7 am to 7 pm. Every week day. Every month. Except for Christmas. Now imagine that you have cancer. And that you're undergoing chemotherapy. You don't know how long you've got left. Sometimes you wish it wasn't that much, because the chemotherapy is a two-sided sword - both saving and killing you. Or just prolonging the torture. Depending how tightly you grasp to life, and how much you want to live. As I said, your only companion is a small dog and you can't wait til your family gets home. Well, you do get along with your neighbors and aren't usually as lonely as this, but today you've been feeling more exhausted than usually. You've been feeling weak. You've got the flu, and in normal circumstances, that wouldn't change much, but you've got cancer. You've been lying all day on the couch, with the dog lying next to your feet. Or your head. Touching you with its nose. Now it's finally 7 pm and someone is knocking on the door; your family is finally home. You love them so much but you don't have the energy to stand up and open the door. You don't have the energy to be happy that they're finally home. You generally don't have any energy. Someone unlocks the door slowly. They see you lying there and perhaps they wonder whether your heart is still beating. Just imagine. I don't have to imagine all this, because that's my grandma, and too many times when she's sleeping I've caught myself eyeing her strenuously, examining whether her chest is moving up and down, just to make sure she's still breathing. And somehow every next time when I do it, it seems to me that her chest is moving ever so slightly less.

We've worked

We’ve worked
too many hours
and
our sinks have eroded
from rust
and
our souls have eroded
from cynicism,
because we’re tired
of cleaning again
and again and again
and it always needs more cleaning;
and we’re tired of being
hurt
over and over
and over
and there’s always someone to hurt us.