Sound advise

Sound advise my friend and I thank thee again.

A reply shall again be given when all things fairly considered.

For with scattered thoughts and a broken resolve a man will come to be known by nickname insane.

But with careful thought and meditation shall all qualms again be reconsidered.

For if sound mind and sound body do I truly wish to attain.

Strong Drink should I put aside for it’s mark on my body — profane.


Stream of thought.

A profound statement.

Although I have reservations on it’s validity.

Some may even ponder what lies on the top of said mountain.

What a shame it would be to travel such distance to find nothing but a fistful of snow.

For some have staked more than others on the ascent of this treacherous mountain.

To reach such unknown height.

A man certainly should learn every way.

And with such knowledge ascertain which way is the right way.

Alas. For perhaps what he was taught from conception will not carry him the full length of the way.

But then again these words are better thought, and performed rather than carried out through ink and pen.

For there are dreamers and men of action.

And perhaps yet again there are hybrids of both.

On a different note.

Pain is everywhere. 

At times a person is lead to believe that with migration lies the eradication of the root of said affliction.

Unfortunately from where I stand I feel happiness can only be regained with returning to what did betray me.

Nay. I cannot again submit myself to that agony. 

My pride has been wounded; perhaps in better words — maimed.

To exist in contempt and derision.

To place your heart aloof from where it is yet to be cast down again.

Alas. Conveys much easier than placing your frail organs where it can be ripped out again.


Some people swear they’re there for you.
But like the fog that accrues and clears they’re gone– eschew.
So one day you wake up and slowly begin to realize.
“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb and naked..”
Life on a purely cerebral level is played along the bounds of “divide and conquer” — Balkanize.
And Laissez-faire is a doctrine better practiced by the individual’s government rather than the individual.
My thoughts are biased and scattered some would say: — borderline empirical.


“True Peace” where doth it lie?

There is a saying that goes: Our greatest battles are fought within our own minds.

My mind is distraught and if battlefield bloody massacre.

I seek meaning; I seek the Creator’s purpose in our existence.

For the purpose of life lieth not in objects and currency.

Nor in the demi-Gods we have crowned with name “celebrities.”

I seek knowledge; but I find no joy in the prospect of acquiring such knowledge to serve other men.

I find mankind as a collective has lost their way. But I digress.

Nature and music within both like herbs I have found a cure; Yea! if within my heart lie-th pain these things have mended my soul for a fortnight.

Alas! Solutions cannot lie within the treatment of mere symptoms.

Pain is a reminder of absence and it’s unpleasant sensation doth torment me.

My wounds daily salted; and my heart is in fact vexed.

There is more to life than this. Is there not?

I find in what lies beyond the grave doth all my answers lie.


That a man could fall to his feet.
For love to pin his face to the ground by way of its cleat.
In agony he writhes broken and slain.
Broken, dismembered, betrayed; child of pain.
An infant of sorrow as he weeps the cold nips at his feeble body.
Broken is he in mind and stature.
Hunched he wanders into the abyss seeking an answer.

Forsaken by God; by Man.
He has no creed identity unknown.
Wandering the wilderness seeking an answer.
Unkempt, disshelved broken by love.
For what did once seem true as the light shines
Now bears true; as but lie.

Liquid glass fills his eyes.
Broken by anguish at mercy of health.
Alone he wonders; son of pain.



What is pain?

That with such joy may come such unending sorrow.

The lover slain.

And beseech thee Almighty God that my suff’ring may end upon the morrow.

For my heart; alas maimed and tainted by love’s bitter curse.

For the medicine they call affection; upon its withdrawal; agony surpass’d by it’s organ’s previous ailment!

And perhaps mellow melodies may for a fortnight thy muscle’s debt reimburse.

For with thy adoration thou see’st not the error of thine ways; and thine affections remain untouched and free of all derailment.


I humbly inquire of thee:

What moves thee to persist on in this voyage we call life.

Is it knowledge or may it be understanding.

Perhaps thy answers lie in marriage with child and with wife.

For every now and then qualms i have on the sanity of my navigator. But if the man be senile by God’s Grace why my good sir is this lunatic still commanding ?