Tuesday, 16 August 2011


You are the highest of highs
You are the reward of my toil

You are the untouchable
You are the insurmountable
You are unprotected, and thus indestructible

You are the epitome of the human spirit
Yet you're only human
That's what makes you supreme

You are the promise land... the dream destination...
You're always the goal, yet always unattained

You're the light at the end of the tunnel
Always in sight, but always far away

If only I could have you...
I would be redeemed of my sins
I would be immortal
I would be alive........

If only I could.

You're the frail beauty that perishes when possessed
But I would never know

You're the angel's voice in despair
that I have never heard

You're my saviour, my guiding spirit
The twilight of eternal youth
The elixir of life

So I'd like to believe

You're the love of my life
You're a figment of my imagination

I'm trapped in a loop of my own hope
That would never manifest, and never die.

You are the absolute
You're too good to be real
If only you were real
Are you?

But I must believe in you
To preserve the integrity of everything I stand for.

For you are the culmination of my faith
My only surviving hope.....

Before I find out otherwise.

"How can you ignore my faith in everything
When I know what Faith is, and what it's worth"
-Steve Harley (Make Me Smile)

Friday, 5 August 2011

That Whereby Men Live

I was about to write something stupid but thought against it. Metacognitive as I always am, I am aware now that my feelings might merely be a projection of a conscious reflection arising out of the superimposition of years of environmental conditioning, social structure and human evolution. In essence, I might just be constructing a reality that is made essentially out of nothing. But yet, these fictional realities sometimes overlap, sometimes coincide between two or more people, resulting in consensus. Consensus doesn’t necessitate correctness, it merely represents reinforcement arriving from mutual acceptance. The consented matter might be grounded in reality, or floating in delusion, yet for the consenting believers, that's all that matters. That is true, that is uncontested, that is given.  In a sense, by the very nature of human incompetence of arriving at an absolute, only the relative can be consented on. And so, every act of consented conviction must probably arise, to some extent, out of an irrational judgement of merit made by an other-than-cognitive process. And so long as the battle is not entirely fought on terms of syllogistic logic, there is always the possibility of longevity – through compromise and adjustment. Is that really bad though? Not until one finds out otherwise. And it can still be rationalised – we're all schizophrenics that way. And how long can it last, before reality takes over? Well, it lasts some people a lifetime, and that's as long as we can measure anyway. Psychology is a science but isn't physics, minds work roughly on rules but aren't computer programmes, hearts beat but aren't mechanical pistons. Not even close. We may never find out otherwise, maybe we don't want to either. Machines don't want, we do. We desire, emote, express, feel. Machines need fuel and commands. We need love.