ST56 ... Lies my'self' told me written by someone else
This is his story….. "It's about time i told you the truth about the lies".
It is about time i told you the truth about the lies i carry around inside. They are the little ones of little importance to anyone, like, 'i don't really care about you all that much, you could die and i wouldn't really miss you, much, i hardly miss you now… but sometimes i hate myself for this, but not for long and not that often'.
The big lies are sacred. They're between me and god, that nameless mystery. I don't even know if i really have any, really, i mean, i don't feel responsible for any of my thoughts, (when i'm way out there) they're all so mechanical… (and that could be a lie)?. That is the way i see them when i'm stripped of myself, left watching the strange universe present itself while I'm stoned out of my mind….literally, out, all culture wrapped up inside me is wiped clean, and i know nothing, floating, seeing, moving thru time as a spirit…..it's then i have no sins, no responsibility, nothing, just conscious awareness, being, floating, going, gone.
That's my story…..sure i could give you some secret desires lusting in my cells, no weirder than any other animal from this dust of life….what for, to measure them, so we may feel normal?…. i'm a man, the old kind, real, one penis, i love all women, every race colour size and shape…they are worth every thing in certain segments of my mind, there is nothing i wouldn't give to be with them, some of them, caress them, touch them, hold them, love, adore them…take them to the farthest edges of the universe forever...so many are so beautiful, so sensitive, so perfect….that's about it. Sometimes it all means nothing… and this of course, is not at all completely true, hardly…. what is!…. the truth is, there was only a few.
I know there are many comments about me, my writing, my images that are stuck in space of minds of friends and foe i'll never know. That is not me, i am not there. That is not on me, you got my opinions, more or less, for the world to see, contemplate, judge, analyze, critique and to do with them whatever this new world media will do….and who cares… but who are you? I wonder sometimes.
Well, there is a little truth escaping out into the air, the fantasies, the false exposures, the attempt at nearly every thought this brain could come up with in fine fragments of broken letters and disputed paragraphs. That's life here, this wonderful world of deceit and beauty, harmony amidst five lanes of one way highways to more of the same. I have nothing really to report other than the true love that flows thru out my brain when I'm whole and sane. Those moments are embedded deep foundationed somehow, nothing can alter their weight, they are the lightest beings that could ever resist darkness to exist. They are the angels of love, nothing to doubt about, a free spirit in the land of the dead.
I am going home up head, i can feel it, nothing peculiar really, we all are.
We all know we will miss the pleasure of just seeing beauty, the perfect act of children playing, the sensitive gesture of a mother with child, the sun as it falls within the mysterious rainbows at the edge of the mind….. we will miss this earth, its love beyond the fences facing…. (as an unclear voice whispers… “We will miss nothing from there, it is only from here our thoughts belong”.)
The day is closing its door to me. I have a responsibility to do the things i negated, to talk with you. Talking to you is like talking to me. There is some beauty in that, stretching words across a pure grey page, sometimes torturing them to tell the truth, coaxing them into higher realms, pushing their letters into feats never dreamt, sometimes into a tender embrace of the purest.
I need to go but i don't want to leave….. you have been my life line to freedom. ‘Nothing compares to you, forever young, love is all you need…. it's just your imagination - runnin away with you’. Then i snap out of it.. back on the road, the trail to the end, the end that never ends….and then, and then… i decide to go.
I rode my horse out into the shores where waves were fierce and loud. I was afraid they would smash me up against the huge magnetic rocks that were growing up out along the tender invisible sands of this long eternal beach. The horse swerved into a hollow, quick, it led up into a trail, out into a forest, deep into the dark. My fear grew, it was an energy made of thick thought that weighed endless of pure nothingness, heavy, dark and inescapable.
Fear is everywhere when it owns the self that is stuck inside, sick. It takes but one slight sliver of light wrapped in pure courage to say…no…. and stretch into the night with a clear simple spirit of an unknown power to push thru anything, no matter how thick.
Fear is the friend of the enemy, and the enemy is you. You decide, or do you, or do you let you, the you made of your own deception make moves that locks more of you up inside another you. Escape, it's easy, stop, move, refresh the screen, wipe it clean into another illusion of you, a softer one, one that forgives, lets go of itself, finds humour rummaging thru the haze and carries on, alone, with one hand in the waves and another reaching for the sky, swim, keep swimming, love is waiting patiently thru that hazy purple.
She lures you onto her motherly bosom with a caress that makes everything worth living and you carry on dreaming dreams anew…….that's it.. there, where words die…. silence enters, air becomes breath, you breathe life, your soul is you…. you carry on….walking along a familiar shore thru the illusions of viruses, facts and love, and all along… secretly preparing for replacements.
Thank you for reading Weyword Times…. an ‘off a rough-cuff-publication’
Worth a drop of time…. a dime… share…
A simple coffee….
WeyWord Times / All Writing and Images by Patrick Wey
Series of Photo Work in Progress…. Moments in Bent Time
Hang Me Up Somewhere…. View Images Here
Raw, haunting and beautiful, like a strange dream. Isn't that what life is? Who knows.....the challenge of trying to know who we are, what this strange experience is, wading through illusions within illusions, deceits within deceits, inner and outer, while trying to hang on to our selves, the self beyond all the masks, all the programming, all the voices of interlopers, all that's there to confuse and torment us, and remember what we know, way down deep.