Tuesday, 26 March 2013


In all religiousness there lurks the suspicion that we invented the story that God Loves us.
Even some believe God exists, some fear there is none after death. To God be the glory, all things are possible to him who believes.

Every generation looks up to the next, blaming the one before with hopes that the sun doesn't lose it's energy and all of our frustrations still dwell beaten on our doors. With all our hopes and fears we remain hostages within the claws of fate, till death imprisons us, making us eternal prisoners to those we could have loved, so bad all the bits of paper drowned with so called perfect thoughts, tainted conversations, that's all we've got. We all talk a different language and yet all in sheer defence, the survival of vanity. So we open up a brawl with the present and the past, intertwined, but only sacrifice the future, where the bitter sweet nothing lasts and cruelly surrounded by oblivion.

This path that we are now starting will be long, and we must follow it to remind ourselves of the great principles that, in our understanding, should always inspire us.

Be wise and don't yield to the fortunes we sometimes see as fate, which may have a new perspective, presented on a different time or space and if we don't give up, and don't give in, we may just succeed in our time and space.

In all our achievements and disappointing moments, for the fulfilment of the oblivion, we yet remain on the edge of confusion. Who is to save us if into the darkness we drown? Now that we sure greed more than ever our God to be nearer. The wrath we place upon each other through disgustful manipulation, raises evil through mighty envious destruction, of the good we bear.

Temper is a weapon that we hold by the blade.

Offer men good or evil and we choose pride and arrogance because here in our days of our times, evil pays as much as good, astonishingly vanity is the difference, why look up to the most high as we are filled with all forces abundantly, gluttonously we stray away from godliness. Our destiny remains the fear that overshadows our hopes, we perceive the past, ignore the present and lavish the future, nevertheless, all three destinations has nothing but vanity in common.

Nothing sharpens sight like envy.

A constant is death, in death is fear and surely never a thing as peaceful death, painfully all shall pass the last breath, bravely encountered with regret and desperation. Grouchy as always. Immortally noisy we fade, as if endlessly alive, that we really incur. Our only hope, our only constant, armour and ammunition. How long to live none knows, may be forever, hope not for that's no man ought to have, yet wish to gain. Greed is vanity, but the fit, as well as the weak will always lust greed gluttonously.

Rite-full news for the forces of greed and the defenders of the status quo; our time has come and gone, yet we fail to change.

What if our gods do not exist, did we ever wondered what God wanted from us? What do we not see?
What in our brainwashed prayers? Should we never questioned the truth of our being, our presence? Never once have we dared, nor we cowards, nor provoke religion, nor enrage the scientist, such is ignorance and vanity?

It is of the nobility of men's soul that we are insatiable: for we have a benefactor so prone to give, that we delight in us for asking. Do not our inclinations tell us that the world is ours? Do we not covet all? Do we not long to have it; to enjoy it; to overcome it? To what end do men gather riches, but to multiply more? Do we not like to add house to house and lands to lands, that we may get it all?

We surely have to be there for each other. What about familiar faces, worn out faces in war torn places. Confused and bemused by evil faces for their daily races. Their tears maze up their gazes without repressions as we neglect their expressions, such insolence we feed evil faces to take their places. How about our beliefs, yet there is no tomorrow and all we cater is sorrow. There is nowhere but to die in our dreams and gleams, oblivion is the unanswered and such is religion too.

Insolence is the vile that vices us through evolution, such is vanity. Slothful is our means to dwell in religion, such is vanity. Pride and lust lead us to believe in life after death, such is vanity. War is our weapon, such is vanity. Here and now is all we got, yet we grieve, strive and lust for that which is vanity. We is all that there is, will be and a god in each of us, but sadly and objectionably, we have only a shot at life and then back into oblivion, which makes us all a work in vain.

Great, it's no wonder why we always grieve in dark and dwell in black, why we should never see bright colours on our back. For the poor and the suffering, though our fancy clothing, flashing cars, gloomy houses, we remain evil.

Big mouthfuls often choke.