Warnings of Disdain

I cease to ask the world. I cease to exist.

I live under the pretence of a person. I speak languages. I think abstraction. I feel. Yet there is emptiness in each one, in everything.
                                      Everything I do.
For this world is an alien territory. The abyss of fanaticism. It wants everything. It needs nothing. The self-imploring machine of doom. It values a lot.
                                              And I do not have value.
The cynical cycle of sadomasochism. They love it. But there is no love. Instead, there is indifference. The seething hatred for empathy and change, mucking the filthy sewer system of narcissism. The vanity of the beautiful, the knowledgeable, the wealthy.
                                                      Wisdom is lost in translation.
No one bothers to think. Everyone is thinking. Thinking is not exactly the same as thinking. One is wisdom, the other is not. Yet the world has been blatantly obscuring everything that there is no distinction left. See it for yourself.
                                                                 Then again, what self?
Hold your nose up high. Stomp your feet on the soft pavement of the poor, the wretched, the underprivileged. You are the modern Pharisees of the 21st century. You speak everything, you do nothing. And worse, you are blind, blinded by your own light, your self-proclaimed splendor and glory. You have become your own God. And with your pride in yourself comes the damnation of your kind. You will be denied death. You will cease to exist entirely. And you will be locked up in a prison made of yourself, for even Hell will spurn you!

The mirror shatters into pieces.

On To Nothingness

For there is the word called existence
Self-sufficient, maybe
Indeed
Possibly
But then there is this word called
Change
And the suffix named
Anti-
How then, could existence's substance
Remain
And its meaning
Stand
On its own
There would be a clash of
Selves
And the creation of dimensions
Facets
Relativity
Dynamic existence conforms to change's will
Anti-existence destroys itself
Yet, both would still conform
And would be encompassed by
Existence itself
For inconstancy is a fractal
Viewed on the other
Side of the telescope
Is not itself
While inexistence is a paradox
Which cannot be found in the dictionaries of the world
Now then, is it not peculiar
that this humble story
Of words plotted against words
Reflects the grand conflicts of today?

This is an answer to liberalism.

No Fear - Science News

http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/67690/title/No_fear
So...are we really dictated by our brains?

Gene Genesis - Science News

http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/67926/title/Gene_genesis
Genetic history of things...familiar?

Cells Reprogrammed To Treat Diabetes - Science News

http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/67513/title/Cells_reprogrammed_to_treat_diabetes
A promising cure for diabetes, as well as other genetic diseases

Lamentation

There is a grief that is like no other
It infects the eyes too subtly
                                    it cannot be seen
The mind is seared, the spirit is extinguished
Yet not one man has ever felt pain or loss
It is a flame that burns, yet leaves no trace
It is the most dangerous weapon in the world
So dangerous that no one ever gets the advantage
                                    all sides are defeated
                                    all teams lose

This is the grief of the mother whose child rises to power and fame
This is the grief of the lover whose beloved has kissed him for the first time
This is the grief of the graduate whose valedictory address has been spoken
This is the grief of the nationalist who saw the revolution happen
This is the grief of the artist after finishing a masterpiece
This is the grief of the king as he looks at the expanse of his kingdom

It is the grief of destiny, of chance, and of fate
It is the grief of reality
That as one savors victory, triumph, success
       as a human being achieves his life-long goal
                                                his desire
                                                his purpose
There is another that groans in pain and misery
And takes all the inequality and oppression
Instead of you

Solace at Solstice

I mourn for the soothing wind,

It is lonely, and will always be

I mourn for those who never sinned

Mercy they will never see

I mourn for the early sun,

It gives light but unto itself

I mourn for all the things undone

Like old, unopened books on shelf

I mourn for the radiant sky,

It can never touch the ground

I mourn for those who wish to fly

They get lost; they're never found

I mourn for the evening star,

Or what remains of its past light

For what turns sweetness into sour

Or day into the night

I mourn for the comet's tail,

It will never return

I mourn for the weak and frail

Their strengths society spurn

I mourn for the midnight moon,

It is the sad reflection of humanity

The widow, the orphan, the dead, the loon

Oppressed by hostile insanity

I mourn for those who always mourn

They do for mourning's sake

For with the truth we are reborn

A banquet, we partake.