Everything mixes together
Goulet
Posts: 918
You're so young and so naive,
and you're so beautiful
and full of energy,
and you burst through doors
and laugh at almost everything,
and you can't get enough of
love and friends and sex
and nature and nurture
and dreams and nightmares,
and your dreams and nightmares are so good
that they make you cry and smile,
they're so real and dramatic;
full of pirates and thieves,
and armies, upon armies of barefoot soldiers,
and lustful girls with big breasts
and platinum blonde hair,
and you dream and cry about Christ-figures,
and you get scared and cry
when your nightmares are dark
and the thoughts squeeze in around you
and choke off your breath
until you're gasping for air,
and your lover has to split you from your dreams
with a slap to the face,
and that's when you start to make love,
and it's dirty and hot
and the sweat drips off both you
and her heaving chest,
and you're so glad in your heart
and couldn't be more proud
of yourself,
and you move in-and-out
and in-and-out,
and it feels so good you could cry,
but you know you're just dead inside,
and your heart is only good for pumping blood
not loving or caring
for someone,
it's not good for letting you feel something
emotional,
you are a physical being
and that's all,
you are a monstrous being
and that's all
you are an addict
and you want nothing else,
because your life is "easy-hard"
and you do love it when Gram Parsons sings that song
because he's just like you,
so you think,
and when you're done making love
and fucking,
and you both roll off each other
and lay in the sweaty mess,
you begin to think you could be something special,
and you feel warm inside
and know that you wear sandals all the time
for a reason,
maybe you're the next Buddha
or Christ-reincarnate,
or Krishna,
but you've got no chariot and no Arjuna
to fulfill your deepest and wildest desires,
so you lament about your life
and wish you were something special,
something recognizable,
because you just know everyone else is
and that's why they're all so happy,
so you go on comparing yourself
to every nameless face you see
and every faceless name you see,
and you go on
smoking cigarettes,
and walking lonely streets,
and you go on living like you're supposed to.
and you're so beautiful
and full of energy,
and you burst through doors
and laugh at almost everything,
and you can't get enough of
love and friends and sex
and nature and nurture
and dreams and nightmares,
and your dreams and nightmares are so good
that they make you cry and smile,
they're so real and dramatic;
full of pirates and thieves,
and armies, upon armies of barefoot soldiers,
and lustful girls with big breasts
and platinum blonde hair,
and you dream and cry about Christ-figures,
and you get scared and cry
when your nightmares are dark
and the thoughts squeeze in around you
and choke off your breath
until you're gasping for air,
and your lover has to split you from your dreams
with a slap to the face,
and that's when you start to make love,
and it's dirty and hot
and the sweat drips off both you
and her heaving chest,
and you're so glad in your heart
and couldn't be more proud
of yourself,
and you move in-and-out
and in-and-out,
and it feels so good you could cry,
but you know you're just dead inside,
and your heart is only good for pumping blood
not loving or caring
for someone,
it's not good for letting you feel something
emotional,
you are a physical being
and that's all,
you are a monstrous being
and that's all
you are an addict
and you want nothing else,
because your life is "easy-hard"
and you do love it when Gram Parsons sings that song
because he's just like you,
so you think,
and when you're done making love
and fucking,
and you both roll off each other
and lay in the sweaty mess,
you begin to think you could be something special,
and you feel warm inside
and know that you wear sandals all the time
for a reason,
maybe you're the next Buddha
or Christ-reincarnate,
or Krishna,
but you've got no chariot and no Arjuna
to fulfill your deepest and wildest desires,
so you lament about your life
and wish you were something special,
something recognizable,
because you just know everyone else is
and that's why they're all so happy,
so you go on comparing yourself
to every nameless face you see
and every faceless name you see,
and you go on
smoking cigarettes,
and walking lonely streets,
and you go on living like you're supposed to.
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
"and you're so glad in your heart
and couldn't be more proud
of yourself,
and you move in-and-out
and in-and-out,
and it feels so good you could cry,
but you know you're just dead inside,
and your heart is only good for pumping blood
not loving or caring
for someone,
it's not good for letting you feel something
emotional,
you are a physical being
and that's all,
you are a monstrous being"
I wonder if Jesus wore socks with sandals?
i totally forgot about that
and maybe it's better that way
no
i don't
fair enough, so i'll forget about it as well.
i really just want to get up and leave work forever
and go find an empty fireplace somewhere
start a crackling fire
and find a sweet cold-to-touch girl with big eyes
and start a crackling fire with her
and then sometime down the road
in like 8 or 9 years maybe i'll be ready to do something with my life
something good
Here! Here! I'll toast to that!
Try to turn that sadness into some good writing, it may make you feel a little better!
I'm sure you'll do something good with your life even if you don't know what it is right now. Be patient. Be strong. You're not alone.
or Krishna,
but you've got no chariot and no Arjuna
to fulfill your deepest and wildest desires,
so you lament about your life
i say,
everyone has an Arjuna and a Krishna inside. The question is, are you sober enough to listen and if you are not, Jesus loves you anyway.
i like that poem a bunch!
you're right because everything is everything and everyone is everyone is everything
interconnectedness and all that
one part of the whole is the whole and the whole is but one part
i could go on forever talking religion and philosphy and love and i could be wrong about it all and i probably would be, but at least i'd be going on about something, eh
i quote from the gita translated by eknath easwaran
The body is called a field, Arjuna; he who knows it is called the Knower of the field. This is the knowledge of those who know. I am the Knower of the field in everyone, Arjuna. Knowledge of the field and its Knower is true knowledge.
yes, but Socrates said "I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing." yet he also said "Know Thyself" so if you know nothing how can you truely know thyself and if you know that you know nothing don't you in fact know something, thus negating the fact that you know nothing and thus no one can be the wisest and no one can really know anything....