Bugs & The Purpose of Life

Happy are those, ever with work in progress
For they shall have a reason to live
More happy are those programmers with bugs to fix
For they shall persist till the end of time.

On a Hot Sunday Morning

On a Sunday morning graced with heat

I rode to that special place, painted dry

Where earth meets water and skies fade in too

Where meadows still abound and egrets fly around

Where every shore has a boat

And every shade has a cow.

I beheld the euphonious music of birds above me

As it merged into the rhythm of my feet

Pounding on the pedals of that majestic

Yellow bike of mine.

I found me a spot under the only tree exhibiting life

And alone with my imagination and thoughts

Sat in silence, to enjoy the gift of existence;

At peace with myself and all creation

Absorbing nature's song and its echoes

As the wind modulated every pitch

And birds making melodies, harmonized it all.

I felt like this should be my eternity

But a voice deep inside of me, said

Happiness will always fade away

But like the Sun walking the skies every day

It only matters that you trek along its way.

dreams 'bout school

i never stop dreaming of school

the same buildings, holding different lives

teachers that never age

and students that break every pledge.

i cherish learning

competing for things of every shade

pursuing food for thought

amidst hungry girls that lust for us boys of prey.

i detest and hate bullies

especially those fighting after the lights go out

or those who litter the compound,

breaking rules as the rest of us toil about like mules.

i wake forever to study

teachers pretending to guide me from every side

in classrooms filled with zealous folks

whose dancing minds hop on and off problems

at every opportunity to showcase the limitations of mind.

i often try to count my lessons,

some given in the depths of the night

others merely by passive presence in the library,

surrounded by arcane and imposing books

that implicitly torment the mind as cooks with sharpened spices do with scents.

i never stay at ease when lining up

as toes in my shoes gnaw at their mandatory leather cell

and a militant uniform causes me to sweat-

every aspect of me anticipating the night preps

during which i'd lazily gaze at the full moon

as illegal music repeats again and again in my brain

and my person wastes away in the deviant art of nonconformity.

i ever come late for the roll call

ensuring to posit the excuse of being the time-keeper

who must ring the bell first, so others might not come late.

i come to punishment as another means of winning favors,

never avoiding fun if it transcends momentary pain

but i'm yet to find the meaning in most popular sports,

instead cherishing meaningless puzzles and those unchartered walks at night.

i kind of always hang around labs

the idea of self-discovery not being the real motivation

but each thought of inventing noble lies

or the mere act of pondering cosmic jokes

being everything i need to win me alternative friends

and the respect of parents who never loved nor trusted symbolic thought in class.

i make friends

and try to share their secrets too!

not with foes, but with invisible voices in buildings,

who promise me numbing sex during every dream,

and the love of everything from stones to wandering scents.

i don't yet fully grasp the power of jealousy

just like i don't yet know the difference between money and girls.

i often visit the school canteen

occasionally pretending that crisps and soda aren't drugs

or that prayers are the true reason i still have change in my wallet!

yes, i still have dreams about school

and it's all the hope i need to believe

that all will be fine when i finally wake up today.

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Yeah, having once joyfully sat in a classroom worse than that depicted in Dmitri Markine's photo, all I can say is that his eye for awesomeness is totally amazing! 

Thanks Dmitri for the amazing perspective, and for bringing us closer to home.

The Social Lone & The Lone Elite

Don't you realize how slowly, steadily 

They are turning you all into antisocial, lonely beings?

In the name of making you "social" online!

In crowded streets and sold out movie shows

You'd think everyone cherished the company of others

But lo! You are groomed to be friends with the puppetmasters only!

They are stealthily robbing you all of the ability to crave human company.

A time is coming when you shall surely be alone no more,

Surrounded by unceasing notifications and friend requests

Some directly delivered into your brain's lounge!

Amidst eternally prying cameras and sensors 

Every miniscule detail of your life broadcasted live

But with the most unnerving, heaviest loneliness 

Eating away at your heart and soul

With none but algorithms and pathetic peer slaves in your circles.

But, there shall be a few 

Probably near-extinct minds

Seated somewhere or walking for walking's own sake

Observing, studying, meditating, practicing and

Living the perfect social life - 

Alone physically, but connected to all creation

In total control of their space and time

The monks, the sages, the elite of your near future.

To the wise,

Choose your lone with care

Seek true solitude, 

And you shall discover a mysteriously perfect social life.



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magnificent art concept courtesy of ka-92

Mass on the Road

Once every week
I put the eyes on the road
Ears on the bass kick
Feet on the pedal
And the mind where imagination does speak.
These are the divine moments of a bike mystic.

In The Desert

I dream of that place

No distraction in sight, no face!

I dream of getting lost

To myself and to you, the world.

I dream of walking and thinking, talking and crying

I dream of roaming under stars,

Calling on GOD, being called by gods.

I dream of 9 days and 9 nights

Of looking where there's nothing to see

Of listening where it's silent than death

Of holding what merely slips away

Of never ending horizons!

I dream of walking barefoot

Of transcending matter and these pathetic ways

Of beholding vanity in its majesty

Of finally understanding who I AM

Of reuniting with who I AM

I dream of seeking TRUTH in some desert,

Some day!

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the magnificent scene courtesy of andymumford

High BPM!

Life just feels divine,

When I'm jumping high

To a 145 BPM

At highly pulsating decibels!

With those uplifting lasers piercing my aura

And every neuron inside of me raving HARD!

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Seriously speaking, am not sure who the original author of the art was, but what that was,

it just is for me one true depiction of a neuron in a raver's brain.

The Pitch

Mesmer talked, and affected;
He enters a room, whether alone with a man or
amidst a mob,
Mesmer chanted and acted in a certain way without
Talking less to the ear, such a tongue that could dazzle anyone's spleenora!

"You are here to sell water to the well?"
Because, the well that lives never has a thirst quenched,
And thus, I get into a state of flow again.

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selling is a divine art... 
just like this divine owl by pnkfdarts

Startup

It's not just the code causing much gnashing of teeth,
Friendships do get traded, nature corrupted
And recurring headaches every dinner, and a good
WTFs served over handshakes.

I been walkin man,
It's the hustle they say-
Get rich or die tryin?
Man, fuck that 50 crap!
Tradin thoughtforms ain't no easy trip.

Lawyers, investors, co-founders
They share the same womb anyways-
Their hearts beat to the rhythm of green paper,
And your gray matter better be palatable!

Users, scribes, haters and passersby,
Basically you eat humans for a living too
But on a different savannah though-
The startup turns you into a mean Capital C Canibal.

I'm gonna get this mural out of my skull this one night
I'm gonna move fast and stealthily across this entire land
Am gonna breath all my hunger into this beast
And I'll sit back and watch as an egregore roams the web
Devouring all my foes, and washing down all my woes
It's that time again-
Time to start up once more,
If it's no more a dream, it's morphed into a lucid form
Time to stand up, keyboard in hand, and go own life's cockpit.


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awesome art concept by OlgaKalinovskaya

Cosmic Remedy!

I've not heard the punchline yet
So I move forward, in circles nevertheless
Persisting in my conviction of a purpose
Which might slip past our unfeeling deity,
Who it's said is ever at rest!

rock

innocence

rebellion

teenage

wishing

school

noise

naive

ego

sex

aged

pride

streets

willing

identity

embrace

parenting

Upon a Creaking Bridge

Separation with matter, a fracturing of order and attachment

Tears or a moment of gushing, warm urine leaving us behind

The sound of soil raining on a dead casket or 

The fortunate spill of an ice-cold soda onto that blazing concrete floor.

Such a moment of mystical significance and awe

When bursting with emotion, the spirit glimpses into the potency of its own fate

A likelihood lurking behind dense uncertainty,

Of a singularity beyond which the illusion of matter gives way to pure essence-

A sense of self or the cold embrace of absolute truth.

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The story in that photograph is courtesy of the gifted eye of artist neon-sunrise

Art of Night

As Clouds turn red on men with earned bread

All pigs go to sleep as avian rats awaken to mysteries of ye

Quiescent minds molding the orgone with no light

As plebs and incubi tug for conjugal rights all night

With dawn, the mage completes the great work

As capitalism drags the man into her jails of oligophrenic work.

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The mystical art courtesy of Karezoid

A Curse and The Gifts

Mine mind cannot rise to the contemplation of The Deity,
whom nothing approaches in sublimity,
unless it be entirely disengaged from mine senses, and of this-
 in mine present life, art naturally incapable.

To answer question with question-
That is the curse of mine reason!
Whomever decides to trek down this lane,
Shall forever be lost in that labyrinth, and
 thine tombstone shall bare symbolic insanity, incompleteness and paradox.

Mine silence and faith,
 mere gifts from grace,
Heal mine mind, and quicken I unto mysteries incomprehensible.

Divine moments of truth have come to pass,
 while lost to sense and reason,
In whose deathening embrace, I've dissolved into The One.



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the epic art from Technochrist

Becoming a Father

Confusion 

shock

desperation

fear

weakness

laziness

helplessness

fever

Uncertainty.

Hope

will

a plan

joy

strength

courage

wisdom

calmness

a Child.

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The breath-taking art from cozza1

Getting Up, Walking...

God is my witness

The fortress undone,

My age-old fear no longer has shelter

And I can finally start to learn to let go

Finally learn to be free

Learn to lose myself - get lost!

Like those mysteries surpassing the limits of our waking senses

Those manifestations that the tongue can't circumscribe

There's a Truth in the ether tonight

By tears, because it hurts

But with Will, because it creates

Am now on the path...

To the destination, a mystery

Willing to become One with God

Nor more shall I fear death

Because death bares life anew

Nor more should she cry

Because emotions merely entrap motion towards Truth

Nor more shall I dwell in that Past

For tonight, I start the Great Work.

Satisfied by going Hungry

Instinct conjured that uniting hunger

Why Difficult is

Letting go of that person.

It takes time and resources-

Probably a

Death or two.

But it's possible

to let go, 

And find oneself again.

Am going to let go now.

Guilty though I might be

It must happen anyhow.

Unlike foraging for gold and silver

The hunt for the one self

Pleasures the trap sooner than later.

It's not a hidden treasure-

The Free Self

is but an ignored treasure.

Better to let go of some thing

Than

To hold onto no thing.

There's no promise

of any happiness

But there's hope for much happiness

Whose strength lies not in staying,

But the will to go hungry,

And feed on free will.


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The amazing photography by ~nile-can-too

Probably Just a Wish

How I wish

I had

More blissful sex,
getting high on shrooms,
building an AI program that actually does something useful,
ridding a big open-roof vehicle with trance music
into an endless wild countryside,
getting laid some more,
fuck! getting high and experiencing extra-terrestrial life -
doesn't matter where, as long as I can come back
and re-live the experience...

No rules to follow,
no job,
just me
living life the way I deem it should be,
and finding the people to make it happen.

Knowing that I am
sentient or why not
- discovering my true purpose in life.

How I wish these things could come true
In this or the next life

I wish it could be true,

That these wishes talk to me 

about What Real Heaven Must Have Been

If I had not fallen from grace.

I wish to return into grace,

And

It's probably not just a wish..

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magical trippy art from AustinE31891

The Batembuzi

An ancient race arrived on this planet

 many eons ago,

They were visiting a stable planetary system

in search of divinity.

On this particular path, 

emerged a variant our natives would call Ruhanga.

Manifesting in areas of thick canopies and near mangroves,

they would easily bond with man

And this marriage would lead to the birth of the first civilization

of the Abatembuzi - our demi gods.

Harnessing any powers their ancestry code would allow them

This lineage soon became such a master of this floating rock

They would reproduce the ark in one place, and 

build colossal sun dials just to appease each other!

These were the great ones, from whom our great ancestors descended-

Our own divine race.

Carving marvels in stone, because 

their knowledge of the planet allowed them the luxury,

They were a very pragmatic people, ready

to bend time just to terminate a statement eminently.

Avoiding the evils of abusing energy, 

they adapted themselves to living in harmony with nature,

And were able to glimpse into great mysteries, and taste nature's bliss-

Those ancient, wise and primitive ancestors of ours.

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The genius art from inphi on DeviantArt

Suicide is my Will

Sick of this Peace
For once I awoke to seek a tranquility none could foresee
The rope in their hands-
Alighting from their savior's ark,
I thought for once I heard myself speak...

Indulge thy Will-
And stop dreaming the dream

There's no law on two stones
Nor purpose etched in the ether
Only thy Will is
And only it shall be thy law

Forget cohesion
Ignoramus walks the streets,
Satisfied with manna falling off the stalactites,
His one hungry troglobite child wades into the light-
Is given sight, and forever sees a shadow where they see them
Separated but one, that's his truth-
The ones you can't count are the slaves!

Matter repels its likeness
Divinity attracts like;
When I sought it,
Imbued with purity, infinity and simplicity;
There, manifesting before me was the one
As attraction finally opened it's embrace wide-
And as my will is the one true will,
Swallowed me into the ebbs of being.


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The Awesome Creative Art by liiga