deeperception chronicles

An essence. The thought of presence and what lies beneath. Lost in translation the ones who speak the same. The once affectionate Dame. The lost look. The once kind game. The bad and scary Duke. In the waves of passing time, words get haunted. Places become empty and full. The heat turns to cool. And so the winter comes.  To freeze these fragile gums. For words to be crystal. To be clear. What someone lived through this year. Collective compost of a fear. So dear. The man has said to know. Before this year ends. Before the time bends. It will snow.

Get on, in limbo. Get off , an endless second thought. What it will give you, is less than more. Nostalgic, the frantic system behind your eyes. You 've seen. You 've let it vanish. Where this loop will drop you off. Older than most of the oldest you have ever felt. And every time you get on boat, you lay down on the deck. You place the coins, he plays the harp. In every mistake you give up the trip. You sketchy. He knows. Cause it's ok. But, how many times you've lost the coins..

The bracelet has fallen. One round around, your leg surrounds. Loose or tight, everything is right. You go left. You left. Your right. I gamble next to rabbits. Demythologize the air and mythologize the ground. One round, around. With gems and dark red string. What will this loss bring. The bracelet has fallen. In every lie i grow old. It fall off. It fall on my chest like iron. One lion, prideless, wanders out in the desert. The over. And what is under. A tiring thunder.

The poles divided beneath your step, under the space you define. The circus, wreck but  floating in depths of beauty. To what the beauty left behind instead of her. An inconceivable lack of wellness. A joyless sorrow next to the saddest joke. The poles are apart. Your feet are struggling for the impossible. Will you be punished or will you be praised. None nourishment for prophecy. The poles are far to reach. But poles are poles. And they'll be back in time. And we all know time. Cause, we all know back. And back and forth. How many times we've lost our north.

Be wise. Stay where it feels comfortable, live there if you feel it. And if something changes, it isn't bad. Everything is changing. That is a nature law. And if the new space has become uncomfortable, you still don't have to stay in it. Be wise. Be aware of what you feel and embrace the change. It will always master you in living in peace. And if you don't feel the stay right anymore, then leave silently. Just like the changing. Leave for the better. Leave for the peace and leave peace also behind you. Be wise. Noise is unnecessary. Attention is irrelevant. Just like the raccoon. Follow your nature into your nature. Be wise.

It is so smooth.  It silences the breaking. The dry yellowgreen, the fading blue, the melting white world. The foggy past has left a crust, over the sleeping pool. Crows at the crack of dawn, squirrels like acrobats and hummingbirds good morning. Awake but still. You know the deal. A coffee pot, my habit smokes. My wet and dirty boots. Your strong and solid roots. Await for the sun. It's there, even if it doesn't come. I draw a circle and I wait. I'm in. You 're in. "The ceremony is about to begin." Good Day.

Απο αποσταση και ασφαλης, δεν βλεπεις αυτο που υπαρχει. Για να το δεις πρεπει να περασεις απο σενα. Υπολειμματα στοιχειωμενων επικριτισμων σε ελεγχουν. Γελοιοποιεισαι, θελω να σου πω. Κι εγω αυτοχλευαζομαι που σταθηκα καταμεσης στην ανεμελη κι αναρχη πικρια σου. Κι ας ειχε ενδιαφερον.  Ετσι κι αλλιως δεν ρωτησες. Μα μην επικαλεισαι τιτλους φεγγαροσκονης χωρις να ζεις στο φως του. Μοναχα φτασε και ξεπερασε αυτο που ο αλλος πιστευει για σενα. Δεν ειναι ολοι για ολα. Ομως πολλους τους ενιωθες τους λιγους που υδρωσαν για να σε ξερουν. Κι ισως οι υπολοιποι ζηλευουν, ισως ζηλευεις εσυ που δεν ζηλευουν κι αυτο γιατι πιστευεις οτι θα αξιζε να ζηλευτει κατι τετοιο. Δικο σου το καρμα. Δικο σου το σοου. Δικια σου κι η μαιμου. Ολα τα αστεια αντεχονται. Αυτα που δεν αντεχονται ειναι αληθειες που κρυβονται σε αναςφαλεις κι ανευθυνες ατακες. Ανανδρα, δηθεν στοιχεια εντιμοτητας καμουφλαρισμενα με το πιο προχειρο στοιχειο κωμωδιας. Μονο η φωνη ακουστηκε.. Και δεν