Halloween is a great festival where kids will soon be introduced to the world of dentistry. So that is how I remembered Halloween as a child.
Embodying a spirit that is beyond the nature of your own, whether it be a representation of bad creation of heroic character or an infamous entity that should have never retain the place in our minds.
Never been a part of that culture, as I am a firm believer in treats, not the trick of putting on costumes. The best I had been is a cigarette smoking blonde, the thing I am not in reality. Hence, the celebrated custom adopted by people over the years on 31st October.
Perhaps next year I could host a ritual of food and drinks. With the sound of Misfits airing out of the tiny holes on the speakers.
Perhaps I have been looking at fun from a different angle than others.
Blood Lies
The kind that bring about detrimental effect.
It is generally accepted that lying is for the purpose of deceiving others. Sweeping some matters under the cover to avoid conviction.
Popular defense would be that lying would protect self and also others, in some form of disguise - as some matters should not be disclosed of, to preserve the belief of oneself. A mother lies to her child on the revolving situation, to protect the internal spirit. Ballerina lies on the pains suffered, as an avoidance from company exclusion. A person lies to own self, for hindrance on difficulties to be adhered.
Would we be under any authority to submit these people to some standard.
If I lie to you about my existence, would it ravage your purpose of living.
To reproach on this manner would only be imminent upon using lies to the disadvantage of others, or for the own promotion of the goods in life. Or anything that would provoke your soul.
The only way honesty could come in is when we stop accentuating our own faulty mechanisms.
It is generally accepted that lying is for the purpose of deceiving others. Sweeping some matters under the cover to avoid conviction.
Popular defense would be that lying would protect self and also others, in some form of disguise - as some matters should not be disclosed of, to preserve the belief of oneself. A mother lies to her child on the revolving situation, to protect the internal spirit. Ballerina lies on the pains suffered, as an avoidance from company exclusion. A person lies to own self, for hindrance on difficulties to be adhered.
Would we be under any authority to submit these people to some standard.
If I lie to you about my existence, would it ravage your purpose of living.
To reproach on this manner would only be imminent upon using lies to the disadvantage of others, or for the own promotion of the goods in life. Or anything that would provoke your soul.
The only way honesty could come in is when we stop accentuating our own faulty mechanisms.
Under Self Arrest
You don't need to bother
Once I wish to be lost
For few weeks, I have been seeding negative ideas on myself. Constantly acknowledging the fact that this wouldn't go on further. Perhaps it's the rambling child inside of me. Protesting every bit to attain the last pleasure. Perhaps it's just me, finally giving up on my own being - the ironic aftermath of the view I have on everything else.
With years finally catching up on my state, the uncertainty of things begin to proceed to the final reveal.
It's not a matter of being discontented.
I understand the need to recoil. The compulsion to regain memories of yourself. It is in consideration for the construction. Though fumbling skies might be the only obstacle.
I have been planning for Texas or India, as diverse as they seem to be from each other. Good food and companion. I want to know how it feels to be in touch with unfamiliarity again. I want to be somewhere, with no one I can disassociate myself with. I want to sleep where no one could see me reeling through the night. I want to be touched by the air - to slowly tremble from the gesture.
Once I wish to be lost
For few weeks, I have been seeding negative ideas on myself. Constantly acknowledging the fact that this wouldn't go on further. Perhaps it's the rambling child inside of me. Protesting every bit to attain the last pleasure. Perhaps it's just me, finally giving up on my own being - the ironic aftermath of the view I have on everything else.
With years finally catching up on my state, the uncertainty of things begin to proceed to the final reveal.
It's not a matter of being discontented.
I understand the need to recoil. The compulsion to regain memories of yourself. It is in consideration for the construction. Though fumbling skies might be the only obstacle.
I have been planning for Texas or India, as diverse as they seem to be from each other. Good food and companion. I want to know how it feels to be in touch with unfamiliarity again. I want to be somewhere, with no one I can disassociate myself with. I want to sleep where no one could see me reeling through the night. I want to be touched by the air - to slowly tremble from the gesture.
Suarez-Evra Debate
Racism is indeed a horrendous recourse for rage - even if it is within the nature of human being to preclude any ill-meaning or derogatory remarks upon the coming of unwanted situation.
I am not in the position of commenting the situation in hand. Supporting racist or any idiot is not part of my interest. However, in light of such outrageous event, I just like to point out how ridiculous the Manchester United fans are, considering their players are not the most innocent beings.
They are calling Suarez a racist, without putting any effort in considering the claim, simply for him diving around like a twat, biting a player, and the handball incident. Basically they are adamant Suarez is a racist for him having dived, bitten and used his hand on the pitch. If such hypothesis is to be concluded in that manner, we would be disappointed to see a massive crowd of racist footballer.
I am not setting aside the chances of him making such terrible and unforgivable mistake, but to jump into conclusion that he DID such is a worse offence.
By adopting Manchester United fans approach, I would like to say they are the worst kind of supporters, alongside with the club, players and manager, due to the constant twattance and annoyance brought to the table.
Evra IS a tool with conducts not even close to the standard of professional, proven by the amount of statements made discrediting fellow footballers and clubs. One would be by calling Arsenal a 'training club' and others from his idiotic rants.
Suarez is a diver and carries a poor selection of actions on pitch, proven by replays.
Other divers include the whole collection of footballers' names and most idiots call Old Trafford home.
I am not in the position of commenting the situation in hand. Supporting racist or any idiot is not part of my interest. However, in light of such outrageous event, I just like to point out how ridiculous the Manchester United fans are, considering their players are not the most innocent beings.
They are calling Suarez a racist, without putting any effort in considering the claim, simply for him diving around like a twat, biting a player, and the handball incident. Basically they are adamant Suarez is a racist for him having dived, bitten and used his hand on the pitch. If such hypothesis is to be concluded in that manner, we would be disappointed to see a massive crowd of racist footballer.
I am not setting aside the chances of him making such terrible and unforgivable mistake, but to jump into conclusion that he DID such is a worse offence.
By adopting Manchester United fans approach, I would like to say they are the worst kind of supporters, alongside with the club, players and manager, due to the constant twattance and annoyance brought to the table.
Evra IS a tool with conducts not even close to the standard of professional, proven by the amount of statements made discrediting fellow footballers and clubs. One would be by calling Arsenal a 'training club' and others from his idiotic rants.
Suarez is a diver and carries a poor selection of actions on pitch, proven by replays.
Other divers include the whole collection of footballers' names and most idiots call Old Trafford home.
56
Don't leave your back up against the water as the winds are catching up to you. With your lips moving indifferently. Abruptly touching the tip of my tongue. And when I am done chasing the sun. Is it part of your plan to sever my feet. To complete the look you have been wanting away from me. It is playing. Sealing my skin in you. Reeling on the feeling of you itching it away. Trapping the voice telling you. Don't leave you back up against the water.
10 years forward, I will forget every faces that have looked at me. The eyes searching for the affinity. All aligned far away from me. I won't regret erasing the very memories you had forced in me. Embedding calamity. It is within reach to grasp the fact that I will be gone. So don't speak the words. Because I will forget to remember. The pieces that work for you.
I'm not yearning for collected similarities. Because they look at you the way fools do.
10 years forward, I will forget every faces that have looked at me. The eyes searching for the affinity. All aligned far away from me. I won't regret erasing the very memories you had forced in me. Embedding calamity. It is within reach to grasp the fact that I will be gone. So don't speak the words. Because I will forget to remember. The pieces that work for you.
I'm not yearning for collected similarities. Because they look at you the way fools do.
Dear God of Football
It is inherent, to be burdened by anxiety.
The only thing I could do is be the 12th man, as progressively asked by the King and the boys.
Good luck to both teams, and may the God of Football (or God) spares me the mental cry.
The only thing I could do is be the 12th man, as progressively asked by the King and the boys.
Good luck to both teams, and may the God of Football (or God) spares me the mental cry.
Prolong Infatuation
Love does not exist. It is merely a prolong infatuation. A borderline limerence, without the need for reciprocity.
The indulgence of infatuation. A potential cure for depression. Though one must confine the boundary. To ensure a manic obsession would not be within contemplation.
I like some people but mostly believe people, in general, are bastards. Such happen to be proven over the course of my lifetime. So if genie would asks me on who would I want to be with, I would gladly provide no name. As we usually develop a new set of feeling, once the joyous days been carried away.
Instead of wasting my time building an emotional standard to experience love, a preference in keeping a mental portrait of several beings to drown myself in emits a better outcome.
So mother, don't fret when I fail to introduce you to a creature collecting my affections. Friends, don't let your annoyance beat the crap out of the beauty of my object. And internal structure of human, don't allow myself to be a blushing idiot when a name of the object is pronounced in public, as it is nothing more than an intricate infatuation that would probably lasts for a couple more weeks.
Maybe I should be an animal. A cat or a goat. Goat seems like a wiser option, as they do smile all the time.
Distorted Reflection
Most would rather ponder upon the encounter of an exact replica, physically.
I have always pursue an exact level of vitriol when it comes to the name given to me. Believers accept the idea that names build characters - that it inspires action and outlook on matters. As pleasant as it comes to offer, imminently one must divulge the need for refusal.
For the past 20 years of living, my name on another being has yet to bring pleasure. I don't enjoy the act of those existing under the same name as I am. With this it is impossible for names to have any direct involvement with the shaping of a persons' mind and characters.
However, I am enthralled by the discovery of a very fascinating Martin Kelly. Not the one chasing a ball around the field with a ridiculous price tag and salary on his back, but the one who actually make sense of things that grow around his population of interest. A read up on the thoughts colouring his blog would, apart from my own testament, assist in the triumph of my conclusion - names do not entail any consequential effect on the being itself. It is only a tool of better communication, bringing about a warmer interaction.
A change of name is within contemplation anyway. Will not necessarily be a whole new fixture of alphabets, more likely be an improvement of the current positioning. Though I like the name that I have been called of since birth.
Why must man be terribly fickle and default in possessing a content soul.
I do have to point out that the person controlling (pretending) the tech Martin Kelly happens to truly appreciate my comments, which is remarkable considering none of the humans I know of embrace my ideas, or thoughts, or questions. So really, if you happen to read this, we should come into contact. I bet you enjoy guns, sports, eerie events/history, and everything else in between as much as I do. Perhaps you carry the name I have on my birth certificate. Perhaps the believers are right after all.
I have always pursue an exact level of vitriol when it comes to the name given to me. Believers accept the idea that names build characters - that it inspires action and outlook on matters. As pleasant as it comes to offer, imminently one must divulge the need for refusal.
For the past 20 years of living, my name on another being has yet to bring pleasure. I don't enjoy the act of those existing under the same name as I am. With this it is impossible for names to have any direct involvement with the shaping of a persons' mind and characters.
However, I am enthralled by the discovery of a very fascinating Martin Kelly. Not the one chasing a ball around the field with a ridiculous price tag and salary on his back, but the one who actually make sense of things that grow around his population of interest. A read up on the thoughts colouring his blog would, apart from my own testament, assist in the triumph of my conclusion - names do not entail any consequential effect on the being itself. It is only a tool of better communication, bringing about a warmer interaction.
A change of name is within contemplation anyway. Will not necessarily be a whole new fixture of alphabets, more likely be an improvement of the current positioning. Though I like the name that I have been called of since birth.
Why must man be terribly fickle and default in possessing a content soul.
I do have to point out that the person controlling (pretending) the tech Martin Kelly happens to truly appreciate my comments, which is remarkable considering none of the humans I know of embrace my ideas, or thoughts, or questions. So really, if you happen to read this, we should come into contact. I bet you enjoy guns, sports, eerie events/history, and everything else in between as much as I do. Perhaps you carry the name I have on my birth certificate. Perhaps the believers are right after all.
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