No matter what I do. Nothing ever changes.
The world changes around me,
While I while away the hours;
And my life becomes a memory,
Of some graveyard in the country.
No matter what choices I make. I am here.
I cannot change how I feel.
What experience has taught me.
My version of what is real…
If real means anything at all.
No matter what I try to change. It is.
I cannot save anyone.
We all live, die, and are forgotten.
Does fate exist and pull everyone…
Into that field of gravestones connecting reality?
K. Aldaya, 9/24/16
Picture: Cabot Village Cemetery, Vermont; http://www.cabothistory.com/cabot-s-seven-cemeteries
Eyes see, they don’t perceive.
Your eyes cry, but you won’t hear.
Eyes are blind to conclusions;
As the head will refuse to peer,
Where its’ truths lead to confusions…
And spill out bloody tears,
From acknowledgments’ contusions.
Eyes see, they don’t conceive.
Your eyes cry, but you ignore,
Observations which conflict,
With who (you feel) you are at your core;
And question what you constrict,
To the foot of reality’s door.
Your ‘facts’ they are too strict.
Knock-knock. Will you open the door?
K. Aldaya, 7/11/15
Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://favim.com/image/1861935/
No matter how far we reach,
Our spirits remain distant.
We long to meet…reach…and reach…
Yet our skin is resistant.
Our skin and bones detain us;
Hold us under lock and key.
On and on our sentence drones.
In death will we be set free?
Or is this a death sentence?
Life in prison. No parole;
Without recourse or defense,
Then shot dead through the keyhole?
Someday if our deaths’ pardon.
If souls traverse the cosmos.
Will we finally meet someone,
Discern and draw in so close,
That two souls may become one?
K. Aldaya, 4/7/15
Picture: By kelsey-makes-you-smile.xanga.com; http://favim.com/image/54089/
Fate controls our destiny’s,
And destiny’s our truths,
But never will it e’er control,
The worth of men or dynasties!
Mind’s create our raging thoughts,
And thoughts our engagements,
And engagements our fates,
Of squandered ‘remembers’ and ‘forgots’.
Emotions control our wants,
And wants our emotions,
But fate thwarts everything,
And controls and taunts.
Control, controls our fate,
And fate our destiny’s,
And destiny’s our truths-in-head,
And the wants within the head,
To emotionally create fate.
Ah, why men say, “We choose our fate!”.
K. Aldaya, 05/08/06
Picture: Artist Unknown; http://www.topnews.in/health/music-brain-hemispheres-sheds-light-schizophrenia-215694
Oh science thinks it can discover all truth,
But, “What is truth?”, should they ask.
For they may have the way things seem to be;
All truth held in a little flask.
For as to find what one cannot see or touch,
Would be too difficult a task.
The question becomes, “What is real and true?”
Does the knowing of each sense,
Conclude for all how truth should be measured?
For even quarter more mind to dispense,
Would change every scientific truth we know;
If scientists didn’t state: “Nonsense!”.
K. Aldaya, 12/12/04
My hands they are there,
Every finger I see.
Each finger can move,
To a thought’s plea.
But is what we perceive unvarnished reality?
If reality is purely perception.
If moved a finger not.
Shall I see the hand as false,
When feeling is not sought.
When feeling is all gone,
What truth or real have I got?
K. Aldaya, 8/1/04
The wind it blows through these wheat fields. The sun shines down, warming the air. I stand amidst this stunning beauty just looking all around. The ground is soft. The air is cool and light. The clouds they are many and scattered about in this sky that is bluer than ever before. The scents in the air are of perfumes of angels, and the wind blows with a lightness that goes right to the bones. I close my eyes and breathe it all in and hope that this will never end. Suddenly the sky grows dark and the sun is gone and nowhere in sight. The wheat in the distance starts to fall and vanish; leaving only the dark dirt in its’ wake. Quickly it moves…closer and closer, until all around me is dirt; and the scent in the air of damp soil burdens my lungs making each new breath harder and harder. Then all at once the wind dies as well and my body feels heavy and weak. I just stand there in this scene of nothing wishing this scene never had to appear; but this scene and world is reality and the other only something that can be in my dreams. So I fall to the ground and close my eyes wishing that this world didn’t have to be and the world with the life was the ‘real’ reality; not this picture of emptiness and desolation…this world of nothingness, nothing, none….life, totally gone.
K. Aldaya, 9/21/02
Picture: Photographer Unknown; http://wheatgrassbenefitsreview.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/golden-wheat-field.jpg