Who gives the morning sun
To light a million smiles?
Who writes the suites of passion
To turn joy from a peasant’s cry?
Who blames himself
When doubts deafen the soul,
And overcome sadness
To escape from what people mould?
Dawn, sweat and dusk,
All ways lead to one
That an end is must
For those under the same sun.
“Survival of the Fittest.”
When I was younger I imagined it nothing more than devouring, bombing, punching the bully for taking my lunch, good grades and a good job, powerful armies, and greatness and economic worth of a nation or a group of people or just an individual. As days and years went by and nights spent pondering about the complexities of life – though I am not a Guru, or an expert, and you don’t have to agree to what I say – I have come to concentrate on the emotions and behaviours that truly define Evolution, which in turn is Survival of the Fittest, because those who evolve, adapt, and those who adapt, live. What I want to say is “Evolution” is not just simply standing erect, picking up your suitcase and trunk, moving to different places, signing business contracts, disputing over energy/resources and human lives. You see, human evolution is the single greatest gift which has gifted us so much more than we are capable of recognizing. “There’s so much more than we are.” I can not emphasize enough about what I think are these “gifts” that I am talking about. Many of you know them, use them and appreciate them, and are grateful for them, but there are many of us who don’t. I want to direct this message to those who see, but not comprehend, to those who hear but not listen, those who have ideas but don’t express, those who want to weep but revolt, those who laugh but not smile, those who have feelings and emotions but lie to themselves. You know what to do. As a human being, what creation or evolution, whatever you may believe in, has given us is, and if you can’t find out the reason, there is so much more than we are.
Thunder, lighting, tremors and rain
A silent losing battle inside my brain
No one seem to understand quite
The isolation and end that I desire
Contempt and grin behind their eyes
While I succumb to their laugh and whine
A secret memorabilia of an old friend
The Darkness in me never seems to end
Wish that I could run away from it all
find shelter under an angel’s breath
Question my courage and I will not refuse
to answer your crimes in hell’s due
What awaits there shouldn’t bother me now
Because I know good people end up how
No more Mr. Nice Guy to you
I have always found joy in solitude
I hare crimes, Lord!
I am a beggar of justice
And if I’d overdone my pleads
Believe me when I have over done my deeds.