Smoke and Mirrors

What is smoke?
In my current state I find it to cover my apartment, clothes, and somehow my spirit

It is by no intention or desire of my own
Nor will it ever be
However, this smoke, this smoke of cannabis and tobacco still proliferates itself upon me

And that is where the others some in
The others who exist, rather are, in my habitat find the byproduct of this smoke to define who/what they are

Their identity is, and feel free to argue, is to feel nothing, I take that back, to not feel reality. To escape the demands of reality is to coward away from a mans calling and created mission. Reality is a fun place to be if you have set yourself up to experience it fully and naturally. But yet this cowardness is some well regarded and accepted practice. Beyond that…it is attractive…beyond me

How is running away the new sex symbol?
Why isn’t refinement, knowledge, the desire of wisdom, the will to learn, and the passion to teach not desirable?

Is there no mirror of morality and humanity to look in?
I guess that wouldn’t work anyway because the problem with a mirror is that it only shows the exterior, which apparently also isn’t a problem because people wake up everyday and greet their own pitiful, worthless selves and smile because they know their escape is only a breath away, time to go to work

The only examination that goes beyond skin deep is that of the living Word. But, we all know how far away the inhalers and exhalers are from its beat. They mock it, judge it, and defile it. But, they are of no credible source with sound argument

I find them empty, nothing, and an abuse of air. A waste of life by which change is not conducive nor interested in. There is nothing like rolling out of bed and hitting that pipe. Feeling the properties of cannabis burn your throat, flow through your lungs, into your blood stream, slowing your heart beat, and numbing your nerves…the breakfast of champions. I can only assume that is what goes through their minds, once a blank slate for knowledge and wisdom, now just blank

Am I cruel?
Shouldn’t I respect one’s freedom and personal convictions?
First, I don’t care about a perceived freedom, and second, there is no respect in manipulated convictions.

So, for one who swims in this smoke, and who’s lungs begs for the skyline of a third world country, I’m not judging. I’m making an observation of the perverse talent of persuasion and the view points of self-worth. Now take a deep breath

The Court of Moral Compass

There seems to be a thought that man has no moral compass

But when called to the stand many arguments of the cricket ring true

How is it then that on two opposite sides of this massive planet the same critique can exist?

Drowning themselves in a liquid brown secret apparently they strive to find purpose

Slicing themselves through their liquid red secret they attempt to find pure feeling

And inhaling unto themselves the not so liquid green announcement to encourage indifference

All of this to address the thought of a day is lost without enthusiasm; life is not lived without natural living and again, the challenge of truly meeting those demands of reality

If man does in-fact have a moral compass why does he introduce decoys of life into his daily existence?

When the principles of present time are sidelined due to the introduction of foreign economics to the local being, moral consciousness is altered and reconstituted

A new accepted system of principles sets in for the moment, then is gone

But, in that moment of the new economy, the transactions that are had are often mis-appropriated and negligent

And if called to the same stand as our friend the cricket, the jury would find the testimony of the
Fiddler down in Georgia to set a standard, and Mr. Twain would be sitting coy ready to follow with his rebuttal

When the final divorce from the court room occurs from an indignant real boy, he is left shouting, “at least I tried, at least I tried”

One can chase words of justification but only actions that feature vindication may entice a favorable judgment

Credit for the unnoticed is rarely given, yet it is the hardest to deserve

For a reflection of The Image is what we were created to be, but a mere shard of glass is all we can physically attain on this earth