This happened as I died

The filth of the city drives us all mad with craving, with hunger, with lonely silence bleeding through our ears.
A couple catches my eye on the subway. He must have been handsome at one time. She must have been beautiful. But they have destroyed one another. Clinging to lost hope, want, and jealously. They now die in each others arms. Never being what could have been.

The city destroys you like love. Like procreation, or political banter. The metropolis is a lie we all know of, but still choose to believe in. We will all crush one another someday, and feed off the flesh of the the lost dreams. I see it in the eyes of the infants. Living as orphans though they still cling to their teenage mother's breast.

The metropolis stings my eyes like the sun if you stare directly into it. Why have I given it so many years? Why don't I go off to some tropical escape? The only true answer is; I thrive on the emptiness, and bitter hatred the city has to offer. If I did make my great escape. It wouldn't be for tropical isles, with girls in skinny bikinis. It would be for more of this. Gas masked citizens, and barely beating hatred hearts of men, teenagers plugged so deeply into the machine they can't remember what planet they're on.

I am the dream of my former self. I've come to introduce you to the filth left behind by the loveliest butterfly you have ever seen. But I already know you wouldn't recognized a butterfly if it's metal wing brushed up against your retina cutting the first layer of it completely off.

I am Josalisa and my life is ending every second of every day.

Is This Forced? Or May The Force Be With Me.

People say you have to practice your craft every day. You know as disciple. I try but I don't like things to feel forced. If writing isn't just a natural inspiration then it's just boring. I think having to do the same thing every day is boring anyway. So there's the conflict of interest. I don't know. I sometimes like to think of myself as a post-punk poet. Nay I just made that up, I don't create titles for myself like that. For me it's all just random mathematics. So what's that like? A giant jigsaw puzzle with the different pieces all falling constantly at random.
So what's the point here? I forgot. The New Kids On The Block are on Jimmy Kimmel right now. I don't have anymore time for this. The moral of the story is. I want white waves to flow over my body, as the sunshine kisses my lips.
For now I have the sweet light of the moon. And it is brilliant.

Insomnia

So I have been awake all night. It is now 5Am, and your girl is still conscience. I watched way too much television tonight. And now I am hoping music can put me to sleep. I have to say I am enjoying being up all night. Getting kind of tired now, so I'm going to try to enter Morpheus' gate. Dear friend please be welcoming. I have a high sensory situation going on right now, I have a feeling tomorrow will be a nice adventurous day. Or I could just sleep all day. Whatever. Good night. For me at least.

If I Didn't Live Among The Robots

If all my dreams came true
I would look around more often
And realize your girl's been hot
I'd write more poems to the ether
And perform improve in theaters
If I didn't live among the robots
I'd realize this is all my crazy fantasy
Daughter of an android
In an alternate galaxy
I'd like people more
If I could just stop meeting Orwell in my dreams
And the cameras weren't on all the time
My final destination will be a Martian work colony
Ray Bradbury told me
I'd be more free
If it weren't for all the robots
I'd be a real girl
Not just a poet on a spaceship
Disguised as a planet

Floating In This Space

In the interest of preserving the mind
I offer these lines
To the empty waves of ether
I woke up from a dream last night
And didn't know what dimension I'd stumbled into
Are you real
Then why am I so far away from you
In my own haze
Or slumber
We can all be just want we want
Yet we all choose to be astronauts
Floating by the sun
Here on spaceship Earth

The Suck My Sosa Adventure

I had a cool little adventure yesterday. I went to see Jess, & Johnny.
I got to show off my knew short hair cut.
Contrary to my previous belief. Short hair is more fun.

We took the bus everywhere as usual.
And got on peoples nerves with are happy go lucky ways.
As usual.

The Reader

This is not a movie review. I never know what an artist intentions are.
None of us do really. Not even the artist. This is just what was inspired in my mind at the conclusion of the film.



Dreaming & Sickness.

I read somewhere that being sick is God trying to communicate with you in a personal way. Like making you take time off for a one on one with the universe.
I kept this with me because it made me not feel so sad about being sick. So instead of me getting all frustrated, and missing the things I would naturally be doing if not for the illness. I just meditated and listen for the sound of God. I learn a lot of things in sickness now. It makes sickness more like a dream, than a time of headache, and fever, and the smell of vicks vapor rub. I know someone my reply that this may not be true for the chronically, or terminally ill. To you I say this is not about illness, it's about The Reader.

The boy being sick in the movie lead him to his fate. So maybe the sickness was a gift. Something that took him out of his natural element, and into the arms of the person who would change him. And whose life he would change.


Silence

It's a strange thing. Not the silence of the night, or the silence of the mind. But the silence of people. Those who refuse to speck, or that will keep a secret for ever. I have to say I find these types admirable, only because I myself have to by my true nature say everything. I often wonder what gives a person the will to hold in certain things till their death? And if this act is an act of strength, or weakness?


Knowledge

This film is a testament to it's power. The character Hannah had no knowledge of certain things. Due to negligence by others, or her own disinterest I know not. But the fact still remains the same. Having access to this information impacted the woman's entire life. Would access to this information have saved her life, intern saving the life of hundreds of others? And what does this say about our role as individuals in a society? Is knowledge a thing of privilege, as it is played out in our modern theater? Or is it desperately essential to or survival as humans, and in some cases to the survival of animals? Is the sharing of information vital to our survival as a culture? Could lack of it lead to a holocaust? What does this mean I should do with the limited amount of information I hold?

Love

Can it be measured, or judged. And is every human encounter something bigger. I mean can the person working at the check out counter, or someone you meet by chance be a major part of ones life journey. And what does this say about relationships, or life in general. Should we be looking for something deeper in every moment of the day? Is every so called casual encounter an act of love? Even the negative ones. It could be that they are love unexpressed, or misinterpreted.

Books

Only here to say this. They have saved me in this world, and made me what I am today. A nobody with a simple dream. To know what it is you are trying to say in this world. By you, I mean we. By we, I mean people on this planet. All the people. Sometimes when I go into a new place( like someone's home, or a bookstore), and I see a very large amount of books it just brings me to tears. And this movie helped me to understand why. There is so much to say in this world... So much to say. As a side note. J.D. Salinger I fucking miss you, and I wish you would write another book.

The Nazis

All I can say about the Nazis is, they where people. And this world is crazy.

Before it was a movie

It was a book written by Bernhard Schlink. We often forget writers when we see movies of their work. This is him.


Anyway I have more to say. But I don't feel like saying it right now so that's that.