Boom

Like a waterfall, a calm washes over me,

a dullness in my mind, yet a sharpness of the senses,

lights, sounds, people, explosions of clarity,

time speeding up and slowing down,

alternating in its rhythm.

I inhale again, feeling the harshness in my throat,

yet, a smoothness as I let go the smoke;

with reverence I pass it around,

for one respects that which is given with love,

nature's heart being generous with its beautiful bounty.

Grass - a word that does this magic herb little justice,

this potent, powerful substance, which gods approved of,

and ascetics use to gain insight,

to escape the trappings of the body;

who are we to refute that which is sacred?

As I ponder all this,

the joint nears its end,

Another hit,

a burning of the lips, it's almost over;

time is serene,

let's roll another one.

Finale

I asked myself this question today. What if I had just one day to live? What would I do in those 24 hours? The answer was right in front of me, glaring, not with menace but with an air of silent disdain. Death I did not fear, for the Reaper and I had met on several occasions, but something greater; greater than death itself. My great, secret fear is to have departed this world a statistic. Nothing more, nothing less; Just another notch in some dusty tome. No name, no face, just a cross to acknowledge my having existed. That is what I truly fear. Don't ask me why. I should ideally not care but I do. I care about what the human condition has become. We as a race, have stagnated and mediocrity is what most of us ascribe for. Society has us believing that it's best to be slaves to the masters, to follow the order and the beliefs that they feed us. The reinforcement is right there in front of you, it's in your face, 24/7. If you're not watching it, you're dreaming it.

I wish to teach people the truth. The truth the way I see it. Sure it's fucking subjective. MY interpretation of reality. What I teach would not be for those who would prefer to lead their delusional, ignorant lives, with their blinders on, focused only in the direction that the jockey that is society rides them in. It is for those who would like to rise above mediocrity and disillusionment and let the light of their being shine through the murkiness that is life's window.

Death. To die without having left an indelible mark is fearsome. Enough to make me snap out of this daze I find myself in. To make me take that first step. And then the second. Until I finally reach a goal. What goal I'm not really sure. For what is a goal but and endpoint to self actualization? What happens beyond that, beyond the point when goals are met? We need a new drive, something else to believe in, to pursue and to achieve. A new goal. The cycle never ends.

I wish to write. i realize that it's not just a form of expression for me anymore. In fact it probably never was beneath the surface. It's neither a form of self-aggrandizement or masturbatory glorification. Rather, it's my way to stay immortal, by making people think and question and ponder over my words and it's lessons. My goal then would be to change lives. That is what I think truly makes me happy. Not writing. Not teaching. Those are means to the greater end. It's the drive beneath that veneer, the drive to make people look inside themselves and realize their own infinite beauty.

I care naught for money or fancy possessions. For what are they, but the product of some slick marketing? Advertising that tells me what underwear is 'cool' or what brand of cola I should drink? Fuck that. What I care about is that one moment of joy when someone thanks me for teaching them what I know, or for just being there for them by being a presence in their lives. That is what's tangible to me. Damn straight it's a selfish act. For what act can be deemed selfless when one derives some degree of pleasure from it?

I wish to be thought of not as a smear on a windshield that's quickly wiped off but as a rainbow that brought color and hope to someone's less than colorful being.

I do not wish for immortality of body or soul; but immortality in the mind of men.

Unbound

The urge overwhelms,

My heart beats faster, my pupils dilate,

every time I see someone light up,

the smoke signalling it's invitation,

like a punch in the face, a mix of emotions hits me;

'you're killing yourself',

'you're going to die someday anyway',

echo the voices in my head,

and in that din of noisy silence, I hear her voice,

Distinct and clear, burning a hole in my brain;

hoarse but melodious.

'Don't do it', she says,

No reason, no explanation.

...'don't do it'.

And from those simple words,

I find a strength I have never known possible,

temptation has no hold on me any more,

the voices in my head become mute,

her strength becomes my strength,

a calm comes over me.

I quit.