Nocturnal Thoughts

"I can't forget you not because I have a strong memory.But because I have a heart that never denies those who settled in it once"

"When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time. Up to a certain point, it is necessary for a man to live his life in the world in which he finds himself, and to make the best of it. But beyond that point, he must create a world of his own. And the greatest thing about life is that it is always giving us the opportunity to create something new. It is never too late to start over, to make a fresh beginning, to blaze a new trail. Life is short, and we have but a brief time in which to explore, to learn, to experience, and to create. Let us make the most of that time, and let us burn brightly, like meteors across the night sky, leaving behind us a trail of light and inspiration for those who come after us. ~Jack London (Book: I Would Rather Be a Meteor https://amzn.to/3ZkFnBQ)

“There’s never any escape from anything at all. You’re always going to be burned. There is never any pleasantness, easiness anywhere. You’ll be burned down to the grave. No matter how much you know, no matter how much you feel, you’re going to be burned, burned, burned till the last minute you breathe. When you open a cap on a mustard jar, you’re gonna be burned. If you open up a can of cat food, you’re gonna be burned. Everything is burning. All you’re trying to do is walk across a room and drink a glass of water and take it easy. There’s always things burning, ripping at you. It’s the whole universe. It’s everything. Women, men, friends, everything. Rips and tears, man. Rips and tears.” - Charles Bukowski

A note from old pages 17th of October, 2019 - 2:47am Like most writers and “self” proclaimed poets, I incline to listening, reading and some writing. I incline to watching people who come my way loosely I incline being spontaneous with words than situations I incline taking in (sometime overloading) than expressing I enjoying imagining and creating scenarios that never happen/could never happen I incline staying in my mind and drifting through thoughts than living them I incline to listening to whosever’s authentic confession I incline admiration in silence I incline to attachments that could last but probably won’t I incline to solitude when I feel disappointed I incline to quietness when am sad/mad or both, I incline becoming very distant when am in need But then again am not a writer nor self proclaimed “poet” Am just.... some one,..... Just someone working to become something But while cooking that something Learned to play with words and enjoy their tunes.

She is killing me and keeping me from dying,that's how I know it's love

"you've got to burn straight up and down and then maybe sidewise for a while and have your guts scrambled by a bully and the demonic ladies, you've got to run along the edge of madness teetering, you've got to starve like a winter alleycat, you've go to live with the imbecility of at least a dozen cities, then maybe maybe maybe you might know where you are for a tiny blinking moment." - Charles Bukowski, Bone Palace Ballet

Man's main concern is not to gain pleasure or to avoid pain but rather to see a. meaning in his life. That is why man is even ready to suffer, on the condition, to be sure, that his suffering has a meaning. ~Viktor Frankl Book: Man's Search for Meaning

He looked at her like she was the sun Only in frustration. He complained when she was gone, But he never looked. On days she was stronger, he hid from her On days she was less bright, he complained but never looked at her until she was leaving, And in the beauty of the sunset he wondered how, He'd never seen her before

“Remember that we sometimes demand explanations for the sake not of their content, but of their form. Our requirement is an architectural one; the explanation a kind of sham corbel that supports nothing.” — Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations