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yori_wheeler
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Name: yori
Gender: Male
Interests: metaphysics
Expertise: what is needed? rely on the resourcefullness of the spirit
Occupation: I pick liberation
Industry: the industry of enthropy
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
7/21/2006
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| New EntryI love love.
I hate machines.
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| ManI feel such a calm
That my mind is fighting so viciously to corrupt
In the end, life is blended together into a soup of a single color
Unless you forget what you know
And learn about time
And what it means to be alive in that fleeting second
But then it's gone
I miss my hometown despite the corruption, the pollution, and the bourgeoisie. I miss being ignorant and spoonfed...daily life. I miss those moments of thoughtlessness.
And now I'm always thinking.
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| Like LeavesEver watch the world set? Ever watch time set?
Ever watch your own eyes shut? Don't shut your eyes.
I look up as the clouds trample my spirits. One after the other, and they're all more darker than the ones before. I'd be surprised if you explained this to me: "the sun's setting."
And I'd look you in the eyes and fall in love again, because in your eyes are the clouds of the sunrise. They will pass overhead getting lighter and lighter, but before I get my eyes burned out by staring at the sun, shake me and tell me what to look at.
We're all so vulnerable...especially those who seem unshakeable. Crime bosses will tell you, kings will tell you, it's all talk. We need each other, because no one acts alone. When the sun rises, it is the earth that is moving, and it is the chemical reactions in your EYES that tell you all about it. None act alone, so let's stop and also realize that human beings don't act alone as a species.
Let me ask you, what you think you're made of? How many times has Henry VIII been recycled? How many Dodo's do you have in you?
Skip this note always
Because it keeps repeating
over and over
I look beneath sheets
That blow silently outside
Smiling black roses
Oh, whatever it is around you, you can use it for something.
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| Letter to magicianna NUMBER2Chill...for me.
When you stand up to shout, remember that shouting hurts your vocal chords.
I saw a foggy sunrise which told me things I refused to listen to. I shut off my mind to the mysteries of the world.
Another told me that listening would kill me. I was whacked upon the
head, my mouth was taped, my ears plugged, my eyes have been
shadowed by the mass of the world. I smell trouble.
When I feel with my finger tips, I touch goosebumps. I feel hairs which
stand stiff on end. I feel the warmth from the foreheads of people on
the street- fever.
I walk with this taped mouth, these plugged ears, and these shadowed
eyes, but my hands are free, as are the hands of those who are sick,
that they may arise and grab whatever there is to make them better.
Magicianna, tolerate my stall tactics...that I may look deeper inside
myself in this prison of mine and everyone's, before removing what
binds me. That some good might insue.
Hope that my senses remain intact.
I write to stave off this starvation...
and dance I will if you touch my hand
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| The Mythology of ManI love the forest in the morning.
The empty evening streets impress me. The marvels of or culture's creations are just matter when no one's home.
Can you imagine yourself in a dark and desolate skyscapper? Perhaps you've planted a garden on the roof. No one bothers you, and so you're lonely.
One day you look out and notice another adventurous soul with a delightful smile on her face. She waves and tells you, "well come on over ya big stiff. What ya waitin' for?"
Maybe you eat barbeque tofu and tell stories of the old world where people actually had jobs. In ten years, you're living on a hill above the city. Flowers poke through dark windows.
At college, I cannot recover from the sight of that soft morning in the wet fog two days before I started. Small trees and large trees and spiderwebs between them.
*winks*
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