the unwritten cliche

half way across the world and i still can't escape cliches... square one has never been so boring, and so invigorating... still in the same ole cliche coffee shoppe, still sitting with the same cliche empty-eyed people, still writing with the same cliche paper and cliche pen. everyone writes in coffee shoppes, its like some trans-cultural paradigm "thou must scribble and sip". a requirement that carmel must atop carmel machiattos and "no shoes no service". still i raise my pen (cuz i am not sipping) here's to the life that is one big endless cliche in a coffee cup...

so at what point do you reconcile that even the extraordinary is ordinary? when do you finally learn that not everyone is open to living? why is it that for most part people convince themselves into believing that life is easier to comprehend when they object it? when they spend all their time resisting it? why do they think it is so much easier to live in the pretense of happiness, in the depravity that can only mimic love, joy, pain and fear?

life is in all the screw ups and in the monumental moments... that's how you know you are doing it right.... seize every mistake, every smidgen of joy, every shed of darkness and embrace it wholly with arms wide open. that's right. start over. again and again... changed and changing...

what would my life look like if i hadn't tripped up every few steps and examined the drops of blood on the gray pavement? if i hadn't reached curiously and held my sadness with scraped up palms? if i hadn't mistaken tears for rain and gotten lost in it?
break break break
until tears scourch indifferent skin, until the salt penetrates and burns. until the rivers stream down your face and purge you of your previously conceived and taught paradigms, until the sky collects the shards of inhibition and splits open, bare and open like the red sea in your heart.
until you know that what you think and what you feel is yours and yours alone... until the shards reflect your face alone...
let it be. let it happen. let the shards stand testament in the midnight sky, barred to the world as the monument of life, of living, of the vision that has pierced apathatic stubborness, and habitual unconciousness.
our life's sole purpose is to change. the path to the world is completely within the self. the road to eden is the road to comprehending the incomprehensible. and the only way to reach it is thru callused palms and hard-earned sweat, thru going into egypt and breaking free. thru taking a chance and making the biggest mistakes of your life.
but you can't teach people this. you can give life but you can't teach how to live. you can't teach people that it takes the greatest courage to live. you just can't. most of us tend to get very lost in the drone appeal, in the touristed existence... i can't get on a soap box in ben yehuda and beg people to "love, love, love" cuz its all we can ever do unconditionally, because we all may be gone in an hour and some of us will have so little to perpetuate our own eternity. to prove that we were here at all... i can't stop people and tell them to give in to their higher selves. to cross the threshold that defines living from non-living.
yes. it's easier not to be great. yes the great people are always those that live their dreams because dreams are not fantasy but the soul's and spirit's sole objective. it's easier to ignore it...its easier to give up the chance for Everything for the safety of Nothing. Because what Is, is Unreal.... because you can be afraid and unafraid, because you can comprehend both joy and sadness together, because you can love all things beautiful, tragic and trivial above all else.
life is unwritten. planned, maybe, on some alter dimensional universe, but for the most part, reality is an open book, a blank page, or more precisely in my world a suspended pen. we write the routine. we choose to fill in the habits, we dictate the schedule, we condition the conditioning.

i refuse to exist in the shadow of regret. if that makes me more susceptible to tragedy then i'll take it... i'll take it because it is the only way to know that what you are aiming for is not the habit, is not the expectancy, but the penetration of the dream itself. i'll take it because at least i am writing my own words, cliche as they may turn out to be....