MAY Blankets Pleasure Me in 30 Unlikely Ways

MAY Blankets Pleasure Me in 30 Unlikely Ways

The angels from the land of the Dutch, to those floating in the oceans of Korea, to those on the beaches of Brazil, to those dodging the city of Barcelona, comprehend me now, if the clock strikes me mad, as sometime you MAY see 30 past the hour, right before the big hand meets the little, no one alive can always be a Jesus Christ, you can’t always be an angel, no matter how beautiful your sensual smile is, and it’s fucking beautiful.

The bad becomes so clear, when everything turns mistaken, but I am just a lost soul dancing on the shores of good intent, I’ll be misunderstood even and everyway the angels glance at it, as I say the right things, wrong so many times, and there is no turning back the clock in real time, it’s just apart of the misunderstand.

Clarifications shouldn’t need to be conceived for reasons of justification, but you don’t realize my misunderstood visions of the MAY blankets that pleasure my heart in 30 unlikely ways, so I try to explain but I don’t know where it goes, except trying to the say the right things, but I don’t know how sometimes, I suppose.

When I move closer and clearer down the bumpy roads of vindication, I seem to only be getting further and further, lost in the fog of clarification, from the angels of misunderstanding, wanting to grab my MAY blankets of pleasure, only to realize faster than the spark of a cigarette, that’s my misunderstanding.

Maybe enlightenment of the truth is like a little boy with hopeful eyes attempting to wake from a daydream of illusion, trying not to be misunderstood is just a product of myself but still perhaps I haven’t attempted hard enough to explain myself, more than just shouts of forgiveness to the angels that grab a hold of my sacred words.

Just wanting to be treated like the norm, but the angels they are the ones that treat me differently, I want to believe, I desire in opposition but it’s all blinded in a fog of misunderstanding. The cold snowy winds blew us into a circle of confusion, turning misunderstanding into a mistaken hurricane of fabricated gusts of isolation and abandonment. I tried but only ended up stumbling on my own words deeper into a chaotic disorder, reaching for your hand but became restless thinking I did the best I could do, wanting to hit rewind only to shut my mouth but that’s only fantasy.

I’m not afraid to say that you seem to be answering questions that I am not asking, and it’s become apparent that my apologetic sorrows sound nothing more than a burnt disc skipping on flawed results that are fighting with emotion towards good intentions. Not a bit of this was a part of the plan, so reach out to my hand, and lets pull one another out of this quicksand, and we don’t need to try and understand…we just need to be.

Mike Ahuja

the ARTIST desires A muse NOT A spouse

the ARTIST desires A muse NOT A spouse

Genuine muses remain dreams eternally but for the artists that bond them to probing drudgery, A muse is nothing more than that of a reflection, distilled in mirrored monitors of the artist’s wishes, nervous ticks, thoughts and wants. Habitually the Muse will not act in response to straight and rational and consistent desires. She should be enticed with the lighthearted and good-natured moments that you have together.

Many artists, writers, poets and musicians have said that an individual whom they refer to as their muse has inspired their creative work. A muse is someone who has such a great influence on another that he or she becomes the focus and inspiration for that person's creative work and point of interest in living. Men to describe the women that they have been in love with and made the subject of their work have historically used the term, but may be married or in a “relationship” with another. George Harrison and Eric Clapton had the same muse at one point.

A muse is more powerful than Jesus, God, Mohamed, any religious figure, if the muse loves a man, then the man's worries instantly disappear. The artist whom is loved by a muse is considering being more sacred than a holy person.

Without muses Picasso would seize to exist, John Lennon’s solo career would have been nothing without Yoko. Gathering of that powerful energy when around that specific person can possibly mean that it is your muse, if inspiration is not wrecked, it’s with everything you have done or plan to do, if she is a CATALYST FOR CHANGE, she is a muse.

Commonly the muse flourishes with worship to impose pain, as she is born in pain, and it is the artist’s primary job to care for her, the muse, to nurture her because losing her means to go under an enormous arrangement. As an artist with a muse you are either connecting with your muse, or dealing with your demons, so remember that she only shoots you with insight, if you are suspecting so.

Let her have the mornings, it’s a muses favorite time, because in the moonlight when all the stars are sparkling in still moments of desire, but you have not passion or energy to write or paint or play guitar, brushing your teeth getting ready for bed, she speaks in a vent to you, even if she is unhappy, her words are like a kiss fueled with passionate energy, that inspires you to stay awake until the sunrises, she is a CATALYST FOR CHANGE, she is a muse.

Mike Ahuja

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Dark Sunshine of an Emotional Hero

Dark Sunshine of an Emotional Hero

By Mike Ahuja

Sometimes we all approach the fluctuating in and out of emotional states of mind, questioning our own sanity, thinking if this ping pong table of emotion is a pattern of the norm, or if we only have our hands tied behind our back in a submissive state of solitude from the rest of the human race, feeling that we could never be heroes, only arriving to the assumption that we do need heroes to save us from this unstable pattern of emotion.

The thing is we are all like this, we all go through ups and downs emotionally, constantly changing from one month to the next, from one week to the next, from one day to the next, and even for some from one hour to the next, and maybe if your emotional patterns do not rotate, than is that insanity?

You can’t be happy everyday; it just doesn’t make sense…

What seems to be so great about these emotional fluctuations, is that we tend to seek and search out something or someone that has that extreme power to alter these moods and emotional states, some people go on searching even until death and still are unable to find that “emotional hero” one could consider calling it.  When you do finally find this “emotional hero” you can’t let go, you must hold on tightly. 

How do you know when you do find an “emotional hero”?

You just kind of know when you have found this thing or person, cause you could be having a shitty suicidal type of day, hating every fucking thing around, but than it’s crazy how one smile, can make all of life’s complications fade away, like with me for example, this one girl, her smile, her voice, her presence, and the soft touch of her skin touching my skin just brings me back in one turn to the good state.  She is my “emotional hero” and it’s just something you know, you have got to pay attention to; to your mind and to your heart to really be able to notice.

You have to realize complications are everywhere in life, but you got to realize what levels you back out so that you can truly deal with these complications in a calm and stress free manner and ability.  Finding your “emotional hero” will make living life much more enjoyable, I promise you.  Make it your duty to find you “emotional hero”.  

Sharing is sometimes uncommon…

Fuck it’s hard not to fall in love with an “emotional hero,” I mean this person or thing is like a damn drug, like Prozac without the side effects, all organic, but you have to be okay with the dark sunshine and understanding the acceptance reciprocal behavior that may not exist, with your “emotional hero”.  Your hero maybe love with someone other than you, and that someone may not give a shit about your “emotional hero,” causing you sorrow and pain, but without that sorrow and pain, you may not have joy and happiness.  Sometimes even worse is when your “emotional hero” comprehends this beautiful ability but just rather not acknowledges it, or just does not really care.  You have to remember what’s best for your emotional state in the end.

My mind is now getting cloud from the dark sunshine that is starting to raise from the brightly lit moon lit sky, I must rest my mind from putting words to paper, search and never give up until your find what it is that makes you sane.

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Intimately Conceiving the Child Of Change - "Love Sick Diaries"'s MySpace Blog | lovesickdiaries.com/blog.html

Intimately Conceiving the Child Of Change

By mike Ahuja

I seem to have notice, recently during these golden California sunrises, which seemingly produce tingling rays of a changing day.  These days with so many people recently have been filled with the desire of adapting to a new something, in witnessing the birth of living in the new, and intimately conceiving the child of change only to stop to a halt and focus on wanting to get lost in the fields of our pasts for just one more time.

The fields of our pasts are not all the same, and not always do we accept those fields with the honor that we should, as I haven’t even come to terms with the truth of what fields I have rolled around in like a tumble weed playing chase with its own thorns in farm full of crowded winds, but regardless if you accept or not, your past, we always seem to want just one more time in that field.  Our shadows will always linger over our shoulders, but for most this causes a painful sickness of affection, that we feed with addiction and vices.

But we want to play in that field one more time, for some that field is living in the realm of superficiality, flying around with broken wings like a moth flying into the brightly lit bulb with a burning sensation, sort of like people all around the world floating and flying their eyeballs into the light of the television only to follow the light of the microwave oven cooking their Celeste pizza dinner.  We all have our addictions whether it be boozing, drugs, sex, shopping, eating, exercising, reading, writing, studying, working, painting, music, computers, myspace, facebook, masturbation, porn, procrastination, perfection, argumentation, and everything else in the world when you do something to excess. 

I really don’t know if we have to change, if we have to leave these fields, or if we even have to attempt to intimately conceive the child of change that we are programmed by the mainstream media in believing that we need; a new brightly lit field full of butterflies and rose bushes surrounded with the nice and gentle bees that don’t sting you or my girl.  I can’t enlighten you and I do not wish to try too, you may be obsessed with desiring to feel something else, but I wish not.  Your vices, you wish they are routes to escapism but they will not really bring you to some higher state of being that you might be seeking.  It doesn’t matter how much you meditate or how much you educate yourself, you will not be more than human, your vice is just your field so enjoy that field for what it is. 

My field is when I close my eyes, than my visions of your beautiful smile and piercing eyes seem to make all my worries vanish away into a silent atmosphere.  By closing my eyes from everything I wish to run away from, my visions of you start opening up much more and your voices start running toward me in these fields of intimately conceiving the child of change.

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