Imaginary Footprints
reflective layers
Friends and enemies, the point has come
Now no more mincing words
What the fuck is going on?
Don't we realize it or are we just hiding it?
We are mad, our madness is great
It's in our flesh, how do we get rid of it?
Maybe it's just my own view
Maybe I'm wrong and don't understand it all
But there are shows on TV that explain it's all about looks
While at school kids go on a killing spree
It drives me crazy
I can't watch this shit no more
More light, I can't see
I'm half blind and I can barely stand
It's so loud, I can't hear a thing
Everybody's talking through each other so they don't get lost
My childhood was beautiful, I played and laughed.
But when I was 8, I thought for the first time:
When I stand before God one day
I'll break his nose bone and ask him how it can be
That all his children here are deaf, dumb and blind
Tearing themselves apart in fear, their souls out of tune
You FREAK, what did you create?
You structure us humans as if we were your weapons
Built to destroy ourselves and everything else
We beg you for mercy, but you won't hear it
We scream because we feel that we are fearful and bad
Thunder, the balance of nature, are like the plague
YEAH! HOW CAN IT BE?
Someday I'll enter your heavenly kingdom
I'll grab you and drag you down to us!
Live this shit yourself, drown in it!
But today I am no longer 8 and I see life differently
God is ourselves, consciousness that wanders
From form to form, to grow and become
And the fear of every form is the so-called dying
But dying is becoming and suffering is learning
And the shards we inherit are ourselves, from far away
To give us what we have given
In words and thoughts and feelings and deeds
And become we will, until the world implodes
And all that is is born again from the beginning
For in us rests the infinite now
It penetrates and gives birth and decomposes
And unites and distributes and networks in such a complex way
That it shreds our imagination
Nature is nothing more than consciousness that grows
It is we who become, in the infinite now
Robert Gwisdek
reflective layers
Friends and enemies, the point has come
Now no more mincing words
What the fuck is going on?
Don't we realize it or are we just hiding it?
We are mad, our madness is great
It's in our flesh, how do we get rid of it?
Maybe it's just my own view
Maybe I'm wrong and don't understand it all
But there are shows on TV that explain it's all about looks
While at school kids go on a killing spree
It drives me crazy
I can't watch this shit no more
More light, I can't see
I'm half blind and I can barely stand
It's so loud, I can't hear a thing
Everybody's talking through each other so they don't get lost
My childhood was beautiful, I played and laughed.
But when I was 8, I thought for the first time:
When I stand before God one day
I'll break his nose bone and ask him how it can be
That all his children here are deaf, dumb and blind
Tearing themselves apart in fear, their souls out of tune
You FREAK, what did you create?
You structure us humans as if we were your weapons
Built to destroy ourselves and everything else
We beg you for mercy, but you won't hear it
We scream because we feel that we are fearful and bad
Thunder, the balance of nature, are like the plague
YEAH! HOW CAN IT BE?
Someday I'll enter your heavenly kingdom
I'll grab you and drag you down to us!
Live this shit yourself, drown in it!
But today I am no longer 8 and I see life differently
God is ourselves, consciousness that wanders
From form to form, to grow and become
And the fear of every form is the so-called dying
But dying is becoming and suffering is learning
And the shards we inherit are ourselves, from far away
To give us what we have given
In words and thoughts and feelings and deeds
And become we will, until the world implodes
And all that is is born again from the beginning
For in us rests the infinite now
It penetrates and gives birth and decomposes
And unites and distributes and networks in such a complex way
That it shreds our imagination
Nature is nothing more than consciousness that grows
It is we who become, in the infinite now
Robert Gwisdek