Kayfucius

A collective of thoughts, poetry, writing works, blurbs, and other randomosity

A sage soul once said When you hit rock bottom,there’s  nowhere left to go but upand up. I always envisioned this asdiving feet first into the ocean;Maybe the deep end ofa pool – never fully do I reach the bottom;Even as gravity tugsand despite its insistenceI’m already buoying back to the surface… A question: Did …

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There’re occasions when I spend more time with my wishful thoughts than my realistic ones, Because sometimes I wish things could be different; Also because…wishing isn’t wrong, as long as I’m able to accept the possibility that wishes won’t always meet reality in the middle – Still, I miss the times when everything was so …

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Can’t be my own person by your perspective standards I’m too weak, too naïve, too unoriginal to think for myself. It’s only when I disagree with you that I’m wrong, such contradiction – you disagree with who I am and feel justified in doing so… When will we learn that double standards do not equate …

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In all honesty,I can’t handlemy liquor – Even in pure consciousnessas clouded understandinggrows thicker… There are no meatballsin these forecasts;Even substantial chunks of logichaul themselves upat half-mast. Laughter resonates,fuel for thought pilotsof hopeless bombast. Free as finality,so they say,free at last,bright as the day. And I… Release allthat’s not worthwhile – even admittedly, I smilemuch …

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We never notice when the ice melts; And through feigned annoyance at the precipitation on the glass as the water mellows to meniscus; Somehow we miss the naked glory divine in the simple, prepense cycles of the life that we declare inane and eventually leave behind.

Evening, Ma’am, Sir. Evening walks to nowhere in particular and everywhere I’m going. Evening coffee, evening meal… Evening matinees awaken the sky, as sun sets horizon alight with gold and orange; rose and wine and blue. Evening – shadows. Moon is rising the wanes of Gibbous in half… Evening, crickets – how melodic your trill. …

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Clock always ticking but I can’t catch the rhythm in its tempos, I’m always just a little off. Hours keep hostages; Small cells into which are squeezed essential bits of life. But I don’t like the constraints; [To be] ensnared in eternal judgment by encroachments of minute captivity where there are always seconds… Perpetual measures, …

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