Ruminations of the Sole/Soul.

To ponder a love so vividly reflected in her allowing it, was all my heart required.

 

The thought of half this life as my own and half of hers, my desirous paradox, extrapolated beauty even in the flattest of, what I always thought of as, the most whimsical of throw-away phrases, one’s other half.  Immediately two-peas-in-a-pod of sheer cliché and comfort, cherishing every cusp of confliction, we merged beautifully into rapturous mirrors,

 

-Oh I could have stared into her soul until I saw the world was at peace. And it was upon this foundation of excited and careless process (we should have known better, but); like a whistler’s echo in the innermost caverns our resonant hearts bared love as solid as the cement that holds the bricks of these very walls, a bond of commitment from the very nucleus of this kinship is what we knew would let us go about living this summer dance until the grass that amuses our naked soles has turned to dust and our delighted worldly souls have long departed our aching bodies and exceeded or transcended this life,

 

-in which our hearts only appear pump to the compulsory beat providing us with oxygen and life enough to breath the essence of each other to manifest the basic interaction of hormonal and electronic signals, to be alive and in love.

 

Hand in hand, minds in symmetrical exploration; bodies aligned with lustful wishes answered, and overbearing intimacy that we guiltily hoarded and bottled as ‘one to lay down’ in a cellar of plentiful resource. The only thing I have ever seen as detriment, a bad year or corkage of the aforementioned delectable, is ones own sense of value when holding aloft something of such flawlessness.

 

 I imagine it similar to having a priceless painting, would one hang the masterpiece where it would be enjoyed the most by a maximum of spectators, endangering to wear and tear, theft or even the value of it being put to debate? Or, would it be best simply stored for it’s own safety? or hung timidly in the securest of corners in order to selfishly ensure it’s use? 

 

Therefore I locked her in the cellar!

The best laid plans of bunny rabbits.

Ferocious anguish and fear strike me today, for actions of principle to protect the girl I love, have transpired in their nobility with a fiery twist into forging a villainous shadow upon my every step. It is an argument that has been subscribed in double dose due to the fear of self-reproach from its sickened target and as the medicine before it was absently swallowed to a placebo effect my drive and emergency hastened to me to bring out the ‘shock therapy’.

 This solid yet naive approach would see me martyred to my lovers comfort – our relationship strained by the menace would simply subside if his hatred for me would grow towards a realisation of my truthful words and would finally leave her free from it’s contempt and his neglect. But low, a plan so simple as for me to paint a picture of his true colour s a portrait, if you will – appears to be yet again too ugly a reflection of his harsh tongue and not nearly as penned by my artistry than by others. 

If one were to see a man shooting bunny rabbit and explained that he believed that shooting that rabbit was unacceptable would one be talking on behalf of the rabbit? Surely not, only explaining one’s own opinion on hunting. And if the man not a week since explained that he actually understood that the killing of the rabbit seemed quite bad – you would assume that he would no longer go round shooting at rabbits. And if he had said, if you have a problem with my hunting send me a private letter about it next time and he then made such letter public he would in all circumstance be a hypocrite.

I am unbelievably saddened and pained that people are quick to turn to an articulation of point, that I feel was needed for a greater good. A bruised ego would have been all that remained for this fellow if my medicine had been received with open-ears and without the re-iterated self-reproach, but given attention by those who it has nothing to do with – his ego maybe hastily recovered and the aching problem ignored. Until next time it arises with a more vigorous contempt.

And in my attempt of solution spectators of this mad-cap farce now see me with tainted eyes, would they rather the bunny rabbit suffer this neglect, as even now I must watch by my saddened rabbit as she is fussed and panicked by all of us? I’ve had better laid plans – but never better intentions, it’s a shame that one must seemingly standby and hope for the best instead of fight for change. My only apology goes not to the weeping wounded to him simply a mirror, or maybe a pot-kettle, all my woes and regret go to the rabbit.  

The God Delusion

There cannot be a God because if there were one, I could not believe that I was not He.
Friedrich Nietzsche 

 I once thought I was God, or had some-kind of Godlike ability, It was when I was much younger and I was going through a bit of an emotional roller-coaster, self obsessive and as far from sanity as I have ever been I came to believe that the weather around me was controlled by my emotions, so if I was happy the sun shone, and if I was sad then the clouds would seemingly roll across the sky. Obviously when realizing this emotional link probably worked the other way round due to the emotive qualities of UV and lack of it, seasonal anxiety disorder etc.,  I had to unfortunately question my God-complex. Here is a two part argument for and against the possibility of myself,  Mr Charles Flamingo, as you know and love him, existing as God.

FOR:

First we have to establish what God is, this of course is really an open question as we have no way of proving who or what God is and therefore we would have as much chance proving what God is as we would proving if God exists.
As I do actually exist, for example, breathe, eat, sleep – and I am substantial, consisting of proven matter and atoms and such; it would be easier to a degree to prove that I am God, rather than a faith-followed God because there is simply proven evidence that I exist. Although this theory could be applied to any corporeal object or substance, water or fork or one could even argue that a crab knife was God with a better argument than any theologian could make of a God in which one could only accept through having faith. It would only require faith to believe that the crab knife was God, but not that it actually existed - as we can touch and sense the crab knife – maybe even use it to enjoy dissecting that painfully Caribbean singing fellow from the little mermaid. Therefore I may well be God.

AGAINST

If we supposed that God represents creation of the universe and all things with in, then my argument would fall down, as a human I have not created anything of dimension – energy transfers through me as it does through every one, for example a carpenter is not the original creator of his carpentry – he uses energy from food which gives him energy to apply friction to the existing wood transferred from his tools through heat etc… so no human has the ability to create new energy and could not possibly be able to create from nothingness, anything. Therefore I may not be God.