literature

The Self, The Ego and The We

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HulioJules's avatar
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Literature Text

I also don't know
if it is the right way
but I think we should take it
there's little to stay

how's it come to this you ask
yourself in wildest of despair
how did joy become a task
why did take become of share

all the glee and all the lust
under tons of piled up dust
hidden much to hard to find
and escorted by a grind
that grinds slowly on the trust

frames of guilt and shades of shame
The Self bound in their chains
by The Ego deep inside
the master of these pains

But do not believe in it's lies
look it right into the eyes
look closely at it, make it flee
find your slaver now and see
it ripped of it's disguise

This glance is to obtain right now
right now, here and today
I also don't know
if it is the right way
but The We will just fade if we stay
...
© 2010 - 2024 HulioJules
Comments4
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Thinking-Silence's avatar
Erinnert mich an mich... hm. Deine Denkweise..

"how did joy become a task"

Mein Gedanke war immer; Freude/Spaß ist nur ein Mittel zum Zweck um glücklich zu sein und ich mach mir selbst nichts vor, muss auch ohne Spaß bereits glücklich sein können.

Desto mehr ich schreibe, desto mehr kristallisiert sich für mich heraus wie gefährlich das ganze ist.
Steck(t)e erst in den letzten Wochen in einer richtig üblen Sinnkrise wegen des ganzen Nachdenkens.

Andererseits; wie du schon im Comment erwähnst, "it enables the poetic persona to leave this sad state" - so gehts mir auch damit. Wenn mir soviel durch den Kopf geht, das ich nicht einschlafen kann, schreib ich das alles poetisch auf und dann hab ich Ruhe, weil ich die Gedanken anderweitig konserviert habe und sie so nicht vergessen kann.

letztes Mal kam das hier dabei rum, in der Erkenntnis wie kaputt unsere Gesellschaft eigentlich ist:

Stories Of Truth (26.12.2010)

A broken world's record taped on my mind.
Stories of sadness, of anger and pain.
So many victims of illnesses, blind,
That sneak like a virus in every cold brain.

A suffering, dying world of decay.
Avoiding the truth, playing sunshine instead...
But behind paper suns, it just hides away
That most of their lives are hopeless and dead.

A cruel reality does - in fact - not exist.
We're living all happy together and glad.
No soul could state that it ever just missed
Any dreamlands we all always had.

Beyond this synthetic paradise
There is a true striking night!
But noone will ever see any those lies,
If they just hide behind facades of pride.

We have to admit that we totally failed.
We live in a world of a horrible truth.
Suffering people to their own crosses nailed,
A world - just keep forcing people to lose.