The Secret Room

It has been a while since I posted anything here other than poetry.

Today I must talk about a recurring dream (one of a series of several different ones that recur) You might be wondering why I would talk about my dreams on a random blog. The thing is, I’ve always felt it in life that there are things we as humans don’t comprehend yet. Things….that are just there, they’ve been in front of us for thousands of years. We’ve just forgotten how to look for them and where to look for them. Dreams exist at a strange place consciously and I believe they always give us clues to understand our universe, which is why this narration.

Also, in case the internet or humankind as a civilization ever ends, I hope that in some place this blog post will be archived and stored, hidden for millennia. A record of it might help someone to retrace steps.

Somewhere, there is a building with a secret room. To the normal person, it’s nothing but a wall next to a lift. They’re blue-marble granite-ish. Depending on the path one takes to reach that particular place and the identity of that person, the room may or may not reveal itself to you. But if you truly are supposed to be there, you shall see the wall slowly dissolving in front of you with nothing but a white cube in holographic form in front of you.

Now imagine, you weren’t expecting it and you were actually just staring at the wall. You get curious. You push the cube, the tiles in the wall slide up to reveal a strange new world. It is quite unlike the world we know right now. The sky is all around. There are white blocks, black blocks. At first, there doesn’t seem to be a concrete ground and yet, these structures flourish in mid-air on some kind of quantum alien technology. I am not sure how it works, really.

All I know is. I push the button and I walk into that world. the wall seals behind me. I do not know how I intend to return back.

Before I move forward, I must reveal that all of this came to me in a vivid dream which was I daresay, quite life-like. What happened next, has become a bit hazy right now. Which is why I’m writing this, before I completely forget.

I walk around, explore for a while. It seems hovering and flying in this world is effortless. I jump from block to block, structure to structure. Perhaps gravity works in a different way here. On one hand, I wish I could have explored this world more, and on the other hand it would terrify me to ever think about the prospect of going back, partly due to what happened later.

I soon met creatures in this world, quite unlike anything we know in this world. Most of them seemed to be compassionate and alway intended to help you find your way through this strange twilight-zone-ish world that sometimes would not make sense. Often things would be upside down or rotated at an angle that seemed to defy all the physics I know. But somehow, I navigated. The sky was beautiful and the world was full of strange, new possibilities that kept pulling me into it. Deeper and deeper. I do not know how much time passed. I was asleep maybe for 3 hours. But the time that seemed to have passed during that time seems to me more like 3 millenniums. I learnt things, how to build ideas and cities and how to break them down. How to rearrange these floating structures and put them back together. Maybe I was learning how to be an architect, maybe I was just figuring out the shit in my head, I do not know for sure. But what stuck with me was this intense feeling of clarity and unification. Like, anything was possible to a large extent if I could learn how to break it down and then put it together.

And one odd day, I did venture back and wonder whatever happened to that sealed wall I found my way in to this world from. I decided to find Point of Origin again. It was a terrible, terrible mistake.

These creatures that I kept finding along the way were morally good, I was sure of it and I never quite did question their motives or their agenda because I was so busy breaking things down and putting them back together that it never quite occurred to me that there is always a price to pay for your time in paradise.

I found one of these creatures back there and he whispered to me ‘you must never find your way back here again, but you inadvertently will. It is not something I expect you to comprehend currently. You have been in this world haven’t you? you are marked, friend. You must escape before it is too late’

Now, if you were in a world for 3000 years, I’m pretty sure you would be quite uncomfortable leaving it as well. And I guess partially maybe that is what karma is about. You don’t always get to choose your fate. Sometimes you must pay for your actions in past lives. Then he said to me ‘There is another cube somewhere on this block. You must activate it before it is too late, the red-dwellers are on their way, RUN! FIND IT before it’s too late and with that I sensed the world getting tainted. There were gurgles, and strange sounds of boiling, Red-orange-is pus-like liquid seeped in through the crevices of the point of origin.

I saw these creatures deforming, howling and moaning in pain. Perhaps, even paradise is prone to ugly things. I tried hard to find the cube, but with no luck. Soon these creatures were orange muscular creatures with part-human part-bull like features. And some of them carried spears and swords and they seemed to be trying to find me.

I ran, I hid but eventually they did find me around the same time I found the cube. I had a decision before me, activate the cube or arrest my fate to these creatures. Alas, I activated the cube and nothing happened.

It was too late.

And then I heard one of them shout with their deep guttural voice ‘I am here to claim you as mine, you have spent too long in this world, now you must repent and burn in hell to eternal damnation, come! Or I shall drag you with me into the great roast’

Having no other alternative, I surrendered. I was shackled in chains and dragged into a box. The box was sealed shut. Then I heard his voice again ‘Let the mighty roast begin. Suddenly the box was lit in orange, all around me were corpse-like people, half-dead half-alive, moaning and begging and pleading ‘please let us go, kill us, put us out of misery. And then the temperature turned excruciatingly high. We boiled for all eternity.

A warning, never stare at walls as you never know what you might find.

war drums

bip, bop.
bippity-bitty pop.
war drums clock, clock. clock.

ad-hoc, black bloc.
anarchy rules, walk. walk. walk.

two dogs bark.
the world watches, some in awe. others in shock.
“feed em’ to the croc! feed em’ to the croc!”
the chants get louder
a radio full of propaganda, or a censored browser?
take your pick, white wolf or black schnauzer

flip, flop.
new rules, news rule.
loose runes, loons rule.
war drums bop, bop. bop.

noose lune is here, time to sharpen the crop!
we shall march! light the torch and fire the glock!
nobody gets away, build the walls and seal the docks
once and for all, burn the commies and massacre the ox
tear up all the pretty frocks, feed em’ to the fox
tomorrow they will come for you too, knock knock knock
all that’ll be left will be roaches and rocks

nuke them, duke them. puke them, spook them.
it’s time for a war, the band marches through Anaheim.
flares shoot up in the sky, all hands up for hate crime
a collective suicide at an uncertain time
it used to be viva la revolución across the rhine
but it all simmered out somewhere down the line
all sense of moral abandoned, hanging atop an amazon ravine

and yet we have the audacity of questioning whats divine
it’s all past saving. the water is saline
drink and dine, shrink and die
it’s not a revolution, if it’s just one last whimpering cry

and the day we disappear
maybe we could start again all over and try

naye, delusions and the collective mind all too high
to remember we’re all just living one collective lie

trip, drop.
a riveting mop.
war drums chop, chop. chop.

flip, flop.
new rules, news rule.
loose runes, loons rule.
war drums bop, bop. bop.

ad-hoc, black bloc.
anarchy rules, walk. walk. walk.

war drums clock, clock.

click.

Disappearance.

A figment of the universe
A fragment of time
tis’ all that’s left
of this mighty warrior, once brave
wore a gold vest
eventually we melt

crave.

a year past, and the same familiar circles
trappings of my own, a comfortable bunker
evermore safe, while the war rages on

in his mind, in your heart
a death of valour, the funeral of the forgotten

a seldom wisp of remembrance
the past, and the future continue to whisper
to me, a sandwich of entrapment
designed to kill, peanuts with spikes

splintering your cell.
the mind stays awake.

time and again, dripping nostalgia burns
etched into your soul like a beautiful fever dream
it shines like a bright star
above your hell.
some days, you are surprised it’s still there
others, you tell yourself not to care.

oh, sweet nothing prayer.

why must you call me back.
to the end of my eternity!
why must you torment me.
trapped in between the gears
friction slowly rots the bones
here, another ice cream cone
you will feel better
it all means something

secure delusions, unhinged dreams
alas, what truly is a sweeter poison –
a raging night full of green
or the daylight scream?

doesn’t it all feel the same now
the colours don’t stab me.
beautiful, bloody irony
to feel too deep.

A gift.
A fucking curse.

But all the same.
Severed corpse, but an intact spleen.

Disappearance.

in another seventeen.

no internet is the new rain

A day isn’t
a day well spent
unless it’s spent
trying to make
screeching violin
noises sound pleasant.

what is this? a new present?
or maybe the generous givings
of a very kind peasant
a new sample library?
or maybe, an old Wagner (or any)
others are in the race
and they’re far too many!

worked out of my hard penny
This is not just fun, Jenny!
ruckus here, and a tumble there
oh look, there’s Kenny.
On Twitter he is, creating quite the flurry
while trolls and hackers make some merry!

Are these workings of a strange planet?
Or maybe Pokemon is the new game for Janet
and Jane, oh so trendy yet so plain?
everyone runs around the city
while I adjust the gain
in an iffy-jiffy!
What is pain? is it sitting in a train?
you see, no internet is the new rain

yet round and round we go,
all in vain.

Fear Talks

The setting was impeccable
flickering lights, foul winds
shattering glass, hurricane ring
The prospect however, quite terrible
the bitter cake in front of us, barely edible

‘Let us begin now, child’ fear tapped on the table
with its fingers long, dark and brittle
Unavoidable as this chance encounter was
I could already sense it going south, thumbs twiddled

‘Um.. How do I begin? Where does this start and where does it end?
What came before? the chicken or the egg?’
I asked, expecting a reply, barely holding back a sigh
Fear sneered itself into a mocking scowl
‘I do not know. Ask another question’
And so it continued one after the other
All to no avail

And thus, went the night
No sudden fright or icy spine-chilling roller coaster ride
Just an inert presence slowly fading away into distant memories
And once time was up, fear did not need
to disappear or even continue with the sneer

For the most lethal and darkest of fears
are not quite what they might seem
made not of tears or unfinished beers
not of companions found or lost
to the depths of time or even spectres in the rear
none of these situations perhaps even come near
the true depths of real darkness as it might appear

nay, the true destroyer is the question
the silent whisper in the back of your head
on a lonely rainy night, you very well know or you might
that silent whisper that slowly asks you to give up the fight
it’s all quiet and serene before its begins
a violent internal riot
tears you up, smiles as you slowly and slowly
choke your own dreams, kill your own means
until all that’s left is a few spare beans
nothing radical as you die watching tv in your jeans

there is perhaps another vague voice in the back
of your head that talks slowly while all the lights get whacked
and then before you know it, you killed it
every single cheat code hacked
while you play your video games
silent bliss oblivion
no desire nor fight left
it disappears and stays at the same time
reduced to not a even a nickel or a dime
ladies and gentlemen,
I present to you.
The power of the human mind

Bravo. Hurrah. Hallelujah.
Now, die.

Watercolours

The wonderful thing about life,
It starts with a blank canvas and a box of brand new brushes
You just need to find where the colours are
Magenta, green, purple and red
And some of them you conjure up all inside your head
And thus begins the journey

The more interesting thing about this situation
You start not knowing how to draw
A splash here and a spatter there
Some of it hits where it needs to, some doesn’t
Alas, a flawed masterpiece
But what does one truly do
when there aren’t any erasers or a clue
It does even seem that nobody cares
for a while

You keep splashing through
Like you’re learning how to swim
But you cant seem to see beyond the deep blue
You can’t find another colour
It’s quite the struggle to
find the colour you need,
perhaps because what you want is a different book to read
Not the same one over and over
You want to breathe, smell that strange clover
That once revitalised you, made you hover
Alas, it might be over

And then, the colour starts hardening
and so do the principles and the beliefs
You never realised this would happen
A great deal of more questions, a lot less answers
What must a hardened artist do,
After years and years of mistakes
centuries of colour shakes, watching sunset lakes
trying to get that inspiration before its too late
Maybe it’s already too late
The questions change everything

The next few years dissolve
trying to pick apart the hardened canvas
There was no other eventuality left
In between the confusion and the questions
The search for brand new colours, abandoned
Dismissed as a pointless charade
You don’t need brand new colours, you just need to get better
and there lies the belter
An artist destroys one’s own shelter
why you may ask, why the helter skelter
Is it perhaps disillusionment
With how the world works or perhaps something more conflicting
In nature

Maybe it’s our own opinion curvature
That spins us round and brings us back
to where it all began, in the rusty mind shack
Old canvas, old beginnings
No winnings
Airs are bold, but white hair eventually take hold
Another machine sold
For barely a percent of a life
Why even try anymore, why keep wrestling trife
Yet that one canvas slowly crackles away
As you go about your day
Harder work, lesser pay
Until one day it all dissolves before you
And another beautiful painting is lost
Memories, people and places
They all eventually disappear
The crackling paint finally melts
Death finally knocks
And finally asks that one question you always feared
What is it that made your life worth? What did you achieve?
Another blank canvas waiting, you say
I lived.

Failure, The Creator

Success once asked failure ‘I give a man everything he wants – fame, money, a good life, high esteem in society. what do you give? nothing but pain,misery and sorrow.’

Failure replied – ‘I give those men a road full of stones, pebbles and potholes to walk on. they bleed, scream and curse their fortunes. I am their worst nightmare. I crush all hope. I’m a monster. It’s true. but know that without my existence, their life would be hollow. Without me, there would be no you. I am the creator.’