Faceless

Conversations created in zeros and ones,

Something’s lost.

Something’s wrong.

No subconscious signals,

No mirror neurons,

Just respond.

Respond.

I threw a stone at a man that struck him

In the eye.

As much as he tried to hide it, inside myself

I cried.

Sparked in a single moment’s transaction,

A frozen moment of reaction.

She is born from the pain of universal truth.

I wake in sweats remembering,

The stain of guilt that sticks to me.

Respond.

Arrested by anonymity,

Is the growth of…

I threw a stone in the dark.

I didn’t hear it fall.

As much as I tried to hear,

I don’t think it hit the floor.

Face-to-face is now replaced,

New life…

Naked in the wood.

And as trees fall in a digital wood,

They know not what they could.

Respond.

Guest Blog? Free post-age…

I want to grow my blog. As a result, I’m offering my weird voice to anyone. I don’t care if you have 1 follower or 1 000 000. You want a little content, drop me a comment or message.

Give me a subject or a one sentence beginning and I’ll create something. You don’t like it, don’t use it. All I ask is for a link back to my blog.

Sound good? Message me!

Pluto

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Did you know that there’s a mysterious place far beyond our reach? A place we once knew, but that keeps us, (and itself) in the dark.

It was once defined, but then forgotten. Who were we to demote a planet? Insignificant specks on earth pointing our fingers outward.

But it was waiting. Suspended in the dark.

Suppression.

You though you were in control. But now she rises! In plain sight she destroys everything you though you knew, everything you though you were.

Pluto is emotion.

It’s the undefined emotional current that streams through us all. It hides away until we forget it exists. It hides away, alone.

We once dismissed her, we called her small and insignificant.

But, now we know.

It’s what we have always known. The deepest voice inside ourself. The deepest breath that was once so audible, only a whisper amongst white noise, is now screaming.

Screaming.

What does your pluto scream?

– By Randall Evans.

The Sail

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When! When can we see the stars for what they are?

Constellations causing mutilations of a map in mind and heart.
They change our bearings, and our minds, like whispers in the dark.
Disillusioned, discontent; Spinning in a jar.

It’s getting hot, but he never stops.
It’s getting hot, but he’ll hit the spot.
The stars a map and the map is death.
They were never the same when his innocence left.

He’s been there before, the place on the map.
It draws him still closer…
The spring inside is poison and the waterfall is black.

Law of nature,
And of time.
There is nothing,
In this life.

Vision in the season of depletion,
Incompletion.
Repletion of all but the reason.

For strife in man.
Is here to stay;
Separate…
Emancipate…

Revealed by desire,
By a simple smile.
No barrier between self and liar.

To wish upon a falling star.
To wish upon a falling star.

– By Randall Evans.

Mind Your Mind

The corridors of the mind are ever changing. At first they seem dark and mysterious, but the hallways and rooms are traveled by your subconscious. The little person inside your brain has a very important job. My subconscious’s name is Bill.

Bill walked through the same corridors everyday. Back and forth and back and forth. On one particular night, bill sat down on an old bench in a dark corner of my mind. Bill felt a growing desire within his heart. he wanted more out of life.

He took out a map from his back pocket. On this mind map were all the corridors that Bill had ever traveled. To an outsider, the map looked more like a maze.

When I was young, the corridors of my mind were ever changing. As I learnt and grew into a man, the corridors began to become stable structures. Now, they are more like ancient ruins than magical ever-changing pathways.

Bill went into a deep sleep that night. He dreamt about unexplored tunnels and new beginnings.

When Bill woke up, he took a walk along the corridors. Let’s face it, that’s all Bill ever does.

Yet, on this particular day, Bill saw something strange. Standing in the middle of an old hallway was a door. A door that did not exist before. Bill’s new door.

You see, when I realised my subconscious was a living person, I felt ashamed. I felt ashamed for letting him travel the same thought patterns. I felt ashamed for forcing him to travel the same pointless passage ways when he could be exploring the unexplored.

Bill took out his map. It was ready to be changed. he burst into the door without any fear or hesitation. The mind is a complex structure. It needs to expand or it will suffocate.

It all starts with a choice. I chose to expand my mind, but I have to ask you: When was the last time you created a door?

– By Randall Evans.

The Ringing In Your Ears

I am The Ringing In Your Ears. 

In the beginning, I didn’t understand. Who does understand their life purpose in the beginning?

You recognise me, but you don’t know me. You hear me, but you don’t feel me. I was born as a whisper and the creator of the universe talked to me.

He told me that I had a small purpose in this life, but that he couldn’t tell me what it was. He told me my job was to talk to people when they damaged their ears.

In the beginning, I saw myself as a mere warning sign. All I was, or ever will be, was the ringing in your ears… But I still hoped for more…

One day I went to a man’s ears. He had been at a concert all night and stepped outside to feel the afternoon light on his face.

I don’t normally work during the day, but this man really damaged his ears.

His eyes were closed, but The Eyelids talked to me.

“Why do you look so sad?” They asked.

“Because, I have no purpose.”

The Eyelids looked surprised.

I told them I had nothing to be happy about. Eyelids rolled their eyes.

The Eyelids said to me, “We know how you feel. We thought our only job was to bring darkness to people. But, we were wrong. This man is not in darkness. He is in a light so beautiful… A light that is only possible because of us.”

I looked at the mans face. He was seeing something through closed eyes.

“Who is there with you?” I asked.

The Bright Orange Light smiled and faded away as the man opened his eyes. The Eyelids explained:

“You see, we are the only ones who let him see our love. The Bright Orange Light comes out only because we exist in such harmony with the sun. And The Warmth, The Warmth lingers still. Would you like to meet her?”

I slowly approached The Warmth on The Eyelids.

It indeed was beautiful.

“Why do you cry?” They asked.

“I do not know my purpose.”

The Eyelids said goodbye to the warmth.

“Your purpose is to bring a lasting light and a warmth to mankind.”

I looked through my tears at The Eyelids. They smiled back at me.

“You trigger memory… Every time a man experiences music so wonderful that he damages himself listening to it, you come along and remind him of that wonder. Last night, this man met the love of his life. You ring in his ears and remind him of the music which, in turn, reminds him of the woman.

“You are a pinhole to a shining light. You are vehicle to memories that we can never see.”

I whispered to the man. I warned him about damaging his ears. 

The man smiled and I found my purpose.

– By Randall Evans.

Shadows of Memory

 

The flickering light in your eyes brings sadness,

Thoughts painting shadows on canvas.

A cool breeze in the night from the window,

A ship floating nowhere… stuck in limbo…

Hold the wax above the flame.

The falling drops cause the flame self shame.

To see or not to see; the fading light of memory.

To flee or not to flee; the process of self mutiny.

 

Each breath irreversible every day you’re alive.

The end is an ocean, we all have to dive.

Avoiding the void? You’re one domino…

Falling into the past. Falling in tomorrow.

 

Tomorrows yesterday’s here, just for one day.

Embrace it right now, or keep running away.

 

– By Randall Evans.