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Thursday, June 16, 2011

More than half of this was never real to begin with.

And at the end of the day,
There's always more to see
In your life, through your eyes,
And in your dreams, through your mind;

So don't worry.

The world is in no hurry,
And in the flurry of scurrying that is a city street,
Remember to stop sometimes and take a seat
On the bright yellow-line next to the speed-limit sign

Because those who work overtime,
Always seem to turn into balls of slime in the thrush of free-verse that is society;
And all the technicality as a result of liability issues is fine with me,
Providing they allow me to peak at the real reality to remind myself I'm free and more sightly than the tightly-knit and frightening father-figure CEO
Who can't go to sleep without affecting the lives of at least 1 million civilian bystanders,
Who forget to meander on the bright yellow-line next to the speed-limit sign from time to time.

Stop to make sure at least some of your words rhyme
When you write your hectic poetry through the overwhelming cries of 7 billion lives pushed into overdrive as a result of the 21st century.

Through all this I would like to pose a question:
Is it better to be happy than free?
Or greater to be free than happy?


And either way, if I'm working to hard,
I'll leave it to you to slap me back to reality,
Because honestly...


More than half of this was never real to begin with.
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The world is meaningless,

there is no God or gods, there are no morals, the universe is not moving inexorably towards any higher purpose.
All meaning is man-made, so make your own, and make it well.
Do not treat life as a way to pass the time until you die.
Do not try to "find yourself", you must make yourself.
Choose what you want to find meaningful and live, create, love, hate, cry, destroy, fight and die for it.
Do not let your life and your values and your actions slip easily into any mold, other that that which you create for yourself, and say with conviction, "This is who I make myself".
Do not give in to hope.
Remember that nothing you do has any significance beyond that with which you imbue it.
Whatever you do, do it for its own sake.
When the universe looks on with indifference, laugh, and shout back, "Fuck You!".
Rembember that to fight meaninglessness is futile, but fight anyway, in spite of and because of its futility.
The world may be empty of meaning, but it is a blank canvas on which to paint meanings of your own.
Live deliberately. You are free.