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July 31, 2006

Posted by K in Uncategorized.


thanks, viewers 😉

July 29, 2006

Posted by K in Nonsense, Poem.
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scrunch scrunch

scrunch scrunch srunch


A wail

that cleared

accumulated phlegm

A deep breath

Am I free?


I still love thee

But you’re faceless


To me

To me.

Forked tongue

I accept.

Dug out from the attic… July 27, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, From The Attic, God, Life.

Merely to kickstart the blogagain.

Fairies and pixies are not of this world. Much as Enid Blyton and her clan of fantasy writers would have you believe otherwise, these creatures are created so man can have a feel-good factor once in a while. They are distractions from the harshness of the battle of life. They are distractions from the unpleasantness of your everyday hurdles, they are a distraction from me.

I am not really of this world either. How, then, do you know I exist? Maybe because I wasn’t created by anybody to take you into a dreamland once in a while. What am I? Now that’s a difficult question. Lets just say I cannot be defined. Some people perceive me as Fear, some as the Lord of Darkness himself, but what is fear, but a few electrical impulses in the brain; and is there any Darkness, not to talk about the Lord of it, himself? Yet I am not so far removed from the concept of them both. Talk about Darkness of any sort, and there’s fear associated with it. Talk about fear, and most people would tell you in an embarrassed whisper: the dark. Fear of the Dark. When you’re walking the dark road, you’re the man who walks alone. The rustle of a gnarled branch, the shadows from behind, the sense that something’s watching you. You have a constant fear that something’s always there. Maybe you’re not wrong; and maybe when, in bed at night, you feel your hair standing on an end, its not the fear of the unknown. Because you know me. That you don’t want to acknowledge my presence or existence is a different matter.

Spirits, phantoms, ghosts… these are names that have been assigned to the sensation of my presence. Supernatural occurrence, paranormal activity; pseudo-scientists holed up in ancient castles with meters to detect my presence…where does it lead you? Back to square one. Sometimes a few lines jump a little on their monitors and they call a press-conference, only to have their claim counterbalanced by a thousand scientists with even more theories and proof to my inexistence, leading to doubts, confusion, and tales of the Boogie Monster under the bed. What you need is not what you get. You get penny worth bottles of Boogie Monster spray; why would you want to get rid of me anyway? I cause you less damage than you cause yourselves in one day. In a strange way, I am the connecting link between you and yourself.

Perhaps I have been building myself up, wrongly, as a dark, evil power. I did mention that it is difficult defining me. Why am I even bothering to do so? Because it is Time.

I don’t expect you to understand or comprehend the concept of Time. There is a saying, the sands of time doth run through, slip through those slender fingers of Lady Time, as she standeth alone in a quest to finish time. Does she herself understand Time or the purpose of it? Does she know me? Know of me? Perhaps. Does she acknowledge me? Never once in the aeons gone by. Perhaps she has her version of pixies and fairies to blind her. It bothered me at first, how everybody closed their eye to some realities, pleasant and unpleasant. It doesn’t anymore, especially as nobody is immune to it.

Am I the Supreme Power of the universe? Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps you have wondered at and even questioned the Big Bang Theory, you most certainly would have questioned the theory of spontaneous creation. After all, what are physicists but a bunch of fellows with a line of university degrees and a wild imagination that they kid themselves is science. How advanced IS this science of yours? After all, its so basic that you can even test it sometimes. You cannot test the Big Bang, you cannot test Stephen Hawking, so does that make them Science? Who knows, least of all, them.

Ever wondered where it ends? After all, doesn’t everything have to have a boundary, even the universe? Perhaps it is contained, perhaps it is not; perhaps I know the answer, perhaps I don’t.

Perhaps I know of others like you, not of your world, but not fictitious like the fairies and pixies either. Perhaps they know of you, perhaps they are you. You wouldn’t know and I would never tell you.

Those of you who rant about God and his various classifications would call me Satan if I questioned Him. And if I didn’t, the agnostics would term me a fool. But do I question Him? Perhaps I AM him.

Is your world a lie? Should you trash your science? Perhaps. But then you would have nothing left, would you? Just a big empty question mark, a null, an endless void? Perhaps just thinking of me inspires a sense of emptiness, of loneliness, of insignificance. I wouldn’t tell you what to do or what to think, only to think. For as long as you think, you will sense me, feel my existence. When the day comes that you go through this diary entry of mine that I am revealing, and don’t agree or disagree at any point, that will be the day you know you are lost. Perhaps such a thing has happened before, maybe I have seen many such happenings, maybe I have seen none.

Maybe someday you can put an age to me, but I doubt you will ever reach that stage. You will never reach that stage where you can define or even feel me to a large degree; if and when that happens, you will become me.

Is anybody then supposed to find an answer to me? Most definitely. The day you stop looking for me is, perhaps, the Doomsday that you like to talk about.

What matters is that I exist. I am not bad news, but am I good news? I have revealed myself endlessly to each and everyone of you when you weren’t looking, will you prepare to look? There is no reason for you to look though. You are not deprived of anything through your ignorance of me. However, this I can promise you: when you discover me, you will have Raihzorrh; a reason, an answer to everything.

Is that enough to motivate you? I await to see.


July 16, 2006

Posted by K in Abstract Ramblings, Poem.
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Throb throb throb my blood moves slow a poisoned blue it stiffens. Stops. Then starts again an ancient machine as has no rest a solid blue cylindrical view unveiling, unravelling, unthreading, putting through to achieve anew. Push push squeeze let the last of it escape, a dreary dead, silent, exhausted, fetid, limp. The tubes hollow travel in search in search in search, stretching from here to infinity, what lands it traverses, what kingdoms it passes. A magic blue, a cyan swan, until it is light again and takes on slowly slowly fastly then suddenly-it is a rich dark hue, a crimson blue, it floods, it rushes, a frenzied dash, overboard, inboard, aroundboard as it sheds the acquired sloth, it breathes.