Poem: Finding Heaven

Heavens and Earth rose out of chaos,

as Milton said,

prior to it, life was just existence,

plain and empty,

meaningless with nothing to aim towards,

the fruit set man free,

digesting chaos and allowing it to spill into the body, into the blood, into the heart and mind,

with it came an aim,

aim to get back to the heavens which now separated from the plain existence of old,

get back to the ideal,

now the individual actions and choices mattered,

those who made order within themselves found heaven again.


Yet, every day we avoid chaos,

take the easy way, the comfortable way, the known path,

avoid what is unknown,

walk within the safe bounds,

only safe risks, safe decisions, safe impulses,

but in that safe life, we set the aim only to the ground we walk upon.


In order to find heaven,

your hellish roots must be visible,

in that is meaning,

to face the abyss,

to stand at the edge,

to shake hands with your shadow,

to embrace the possibility of disorder for eternity,

to jump off the cliff and make the parachute on your way down,

in that is life,

in that is heaven.



Poem: Movement

Sprint if you can,

Jog if you must,

Sometimes you’ve just gotta walk,

One step in front of the other,


Crawl if you can’t do nothing else,

inch by inch,



As both, the shadow of the rising sun and the setting sun wash upon you,

As the pale moonlight bathes you,

As complete darkness enshrouds you,

At the beginning, in the middle, at the end and beginning again,



At the pace you can manage,

Every so often testing your limits,

Crawling to walking to jogging to sprinting,

The rhythmic strides and the stumbles go hand in hand,

Until the eternal stop,

The only stop,

Otherwise, life is made up of movement,

Slow and fast and the in-between,

Moving up towards the ups, moving down towards the downs, moving back up, moving back down, moving, moving,


Poem: Is Enough

The flickering light of the bulb is enough,

the tiny sparkle of the star in the infinite darkness of space is enough,

the attic light,

the hallway glow,

the nightlight for kids,

the cigarette lighter for adults,

the flame that burns inside,

flamed by thoughts of success,

surrounded by thoughts failure,

no matter how weak, how brittle, how beaten it gets,

if it can give you even the slightest of warmth,

it’s enough,

if it can keep another’s light going,

it’s enough,

if it can fuse with another’s and cast a long shadow,

it’s enough,

if it keeps the body moving forward,

it’s enough,

no matter how slow, how painful, how stubborn the movement is,

it’s enough on its own,

you’re enough on your own,

the attempt to keep it going,

is enough,

for the attempt is all we have.

Poem: Ten Years

Ten years ago I thought I understood it all, life and everything in it, the steps in front of me felt so real, concrete-like, a path which could sustain my weight but the very first step showed the cracked foundation upon which my hopes were built on, the child-like dreams up in smoke, trying to bottle them back up in order to give it another go, happy to do so for the youth was with me, the naivety of which keeps the blood flowing and the body warm from just the possibilities,

Ten years later the same hopes rummage through my head, gluing together the wreckage of my life in order to make sense of it all otherwise, I know I’ll senselessly go down under and finally have some relief but before I can earn that, I gotta do something worthy of it and so I gathered the broken, the cracked, the splintered, the fragmented pieces of myself and form a happy, smiling face, tape it all together and show that I was here, I existed,

Ten years from now I hope that I’m not hoping any longer, that all those hopes lead somewhere, that the darkness was elevated from the light of a beacon, that the beacon wasn’t false, that the falsity didn’t break me too bad, that I still had the strength to crawl in the darkness finding the bits and pieces, that I had the courage to put it all back together and that I can take another step still.

Poem: The Death Tolls

There is never true silence,

always seeking some distraction,

those who seek, find it,

occupying the time with noise,

filling the head with all this junk,

so that when you do find yourself alone,

you have to sift through all this trash,

just enough time to get some noise going,

perhaps even ask someone how they’re doing.


While you see it’s face everywhere,

in the news,

in the movies,

in the music,

in the book,

paradoxically exposing yourself to it, and

hoping to forget it,

acting as if each movement isn’t commanded by it.


The fear of it,

of reality,

the unknown that lies in the core,

the gift of Adam,

the knowledge accompanied by your awakening,

the companion to your consciousness,

the one that remembers your vulnerability,

your wounds and your pains,

turn up the music so you can drown the rapidly increasing heartbeat of the counterpart to life,

known by all but kept quiet,

afraid to hear it, afraid to listen to it,

the bell tolls,

the reminder that is silenced by all the noise,

underneath the silence,

the death tolls ring.

Youtube: Learned Living

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/learned_living/

Poem: The Many Yous

Article: Indirect Battle Strategy and How It Can Help Us Overcome Our Own Obstacles

Short Story: Everything Work’s Itself Out

Poem: Outside/Inside

Outside, she sits pretty,

her pigtails tied with pink ribbons,

watching the green fields swell,

the wet droplets of spring shower worming into the damp soil,

her once innocent gaze follows the bee,

the bee which flirts with the sunflower,

her voice cracks, as she calls for rosy,

wishing to feel her warm belly,

rosy comes, waddling, tail wagging,

her belly as full as hers,


Inside, she thinks of him,

the tender touch,

the comforting words,

the fulfilling moment,

and now the lost presence,

the falseness,


Outside, mama calls,

“papa is almost home,” she says,

“mama please,”


Inside, she thinks,

trying to consummate the little she knew,

some nucleus of sense,

something she could deliver to make them understand,

her adolescent hopes,


Outside, her childlike eyes watched rosy sleep,

unbothered, untroubled, unabandoned,


Inside, her sullied thoughts wished to be rosy,

wishfully wishing that tomorrow will be better,


Outside, a child,

Inside, a woman.

Youtube: Learned Living

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/learned_living/

Poem: Electric Self-Help

Article: The Black Swan and Seeking Randomness

Short Story: Everything Work’s Itself Out

Poem: Electric Self-Help

We live in a detached age,

age of technology,

where the discomfort of being human is simply comforted,

detached from what’s necessary for your body,


attached to what necessary for the ego,

(likes and follows)

constantly seeking distractions from oneself,

while grasping at that which takes you further away from your spirit.


Our age allows us to connect with others, in

a way that has never existed in human history,

yin and yang,

ancient wisdom,

with connection with others, comes

the disconnect with oneself.


The computer screen lets me see the injustice that just took place a second ago on the other side of the world,

it lets me feel your happiness,

share in your nervousness,

open my art to you.


Grateful to the age of technology.


The computer screen shapes my sight to see the beauty behind a screen while real beauty goes unseen,

it normalizes me to the clicking of keys but not to the chirping of birds,

it lets me hide my own sadness,

turns my sight from questioning my own nervousness,

distracts my mind as I commit injustices to my own body,

shapes my art trying to please others.


For all of that, I take responsi——

Self-help books, five ways to identify your feeling, stream of motivational quotes, “how to be like me”, three easy ways to find yourself, two steps to becoming yourself, this is what’s holding you back from reaching your potential, one easy solution to your problems, follow this to be that and so it goes.

Motivational talkers, influencers, self-help gurus,

every day a new one joins the fray trying to explain to you what you are doing wrong, what you need to be doing and how to do it,

giving you a blueprint to live your own life.


Show me the way,

tell me the way,

lead my life,

O, stranger.


Here, the detachment is evident.

(for you listen to these strangers with long beards and shiny watches and in doing so you quiet the sound of your own voice)

Detached from your self.

Detached from your body.

Detached from your spirit.

Detached from your soul.


Instead of asking yourself how you feel,

you seek the comfort of a strangers words,

becoming a stranger to yourself,

deaf to your body’s cries,

devoting yourself to other people’s instructions,

(hence, living someone else’s life).


Is that living?

matching your steps on the imprint of others,





marching in a straight line,

conveyor bed human,

hoping this is good enough,

afraid to think for yourself,

afraid to make mistakes,

afraid of what your body begs of you.


Ask yourself what do you need and hear your body tell you,

it doesn’t want a new necklace,

it simply wants to go for a walk,

it doesn’t want to eat again,

it just wishes to move around, to feel the breeze, to smell, to touch, to hear, to see,

it doesn’t want a new leather belt,

it simply wants to stretch,

(tight hips, tight back, a knot in the neck, elbow flames, shoulder pain but all of that is just a momentary thought before you distract yourself, before you quiet the body).


But, this is uncomfortable.


So, the moment your body begins to speak,

you begin to scroll,

or type away,

seeking bodily pleasure,

pleasure for your senses,

pleasure for right now,

age of immediate gratification,

gratifying your detachment.


But, be uncomfortable,


Ask yourself questions,

for you know what you want,

you know what you should be doing,

you know which actions make you feel good and which make you feel guilty,

you know yourself better than any human being will ever know you,

love yourself,

for yourself, do what is necessary.


But that phone flashes and takes your mind away,

that new video comes and takes 20 minutes of your life,

that new alert comes and you lose yourself,

that itch comes, where you reach for the device, almost unconsciously,

and your mind tells you its fine, 2 mins, 5 mins, you’ve done enough work, 10 mins, your checking up on the world, 20 mins, your friends, 30 mins, and break, end of scene, back after the intermission of seeing how your doing — and back to the next scene, 2 mins, 5 mins….


Happy right now.


The detachment between thought and action has always existed,

always planning on what you’ll do next,

but not doing,

using the mind but not the body,

amplified with the aid of the new age,

your body softens,

not knowing work,

you mind continues a pattern of hoping, planning, distraction, inaction, dreaming, hoping, one days and some days,

as you watch others living,

your darkroom full of flashes from the video of others experiencing life,

you feel accomplished through the accomplishment of others,

human nature,

our group is successful which means you are too,

but now we imagine the group to be the world,

so you can always find something to justify your opinions, habits, actions, as you continue rotting,

your body tired of talking turns to whispering and soon it’ll go mute for that is nature too,

why continue something that has no effect?


An article on productivity,

a video about things you missed in a movie,

a plea from your body to do something about your back pain,

which to follow?

what to do?

perhaps look up what a guru would do,

but it’s obvious which one you should do and yet,


Disconnected. Detached.


All one needs is themselves,





follow the self,

pain/pleasure, needs/wants of the self,

self wishes to move, to love, to care, to embrace, to speak, to listen, to hold hands, to laugh, to empathize, to connect, to attach, to see, to wonder, to do, to act, to live.


Detach for a moment and be in solitude,

alone with yourself,

the silence speaks and guides you,

connects you with your path,

walks with you as you act,

fills you with feelings and emotions,

uncomfortable and comfortable,

growth through this way is everlasting,

growth through someone else’s path is unstable,

pleasure derived from solitude is fulfilling,

pleasure from someone else’s actions is fleeting,

no one can tell you who you are, if

they don’t know you then how can they tell you what’s best for you?

you know yourself,

your body knows you,

true self-help is when you aim to please your flesh, your bones, your muscles, your tendons, your nerves, your blood, your heart, your mind, your spirit, your consciousness, your soul,

selfishly aiming at getting to know yourself,

not your neighbor across the world,

that comes after.


Step 1: Help your self.


Age of technology is beautiful,

but don’t forget the other ages,

Know thy self as it says on the temple in Delphi,

true now as it was before,

for the age is changing,

but we are still human,

the same as the ancient ones,

same needs and troubles, same fulfillment and harmony,

our forefathers and mothers discovered the importance of listening to their bodies, trusting their instincts, following their inner voices, applying their own logic and reasoning, building their own habits, disciplines and work ethic,

and through this, they created all that is known to man,

there was no Buddhism before Buddha,

thus, this should be your primary foundation,


Youtube: Learned Living

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/learned_living/

Poem: Nero Dances

Article: Indirect Battle Strategy and How It Can Help Us Overcome Our Own Obstacles

Short Story: Everything Work’s Itself Out