There is no ready just when.

It means the drinks

Offer the same

Then later to flow faster

Backing from danger

The experience

The experiment

All signs point to:

Maximum joy.

Melt with me.

Night was long and sweet

Not knowing exactly as a dead clock

Hands dangling like rotting flowers

In a panorama of melting colors

Into a world of wonders

Sex seems like a cloud of pastels

Eyes full of heaven

The winter snow was gone

Hold on

Hold on

Don't let go

Play the very best songs.

Mine oh my

I hear this sigh

In a hidden garden

It is me

Holding a dream

Wishing drips onto the land

For we to me

Our source of passion

Hands merging into people

Somethings slip away

Yet the creation of the day

Is more creation

Walking on air with

The beauty of calm.

I could..



Thoughts to please

Pink if you please

As like a drink I know

If Santa could be here now

Would he be wearing a crown

It runs on the grass

Making so sound

She hears only soft music now

Within the chambers of her heart

A caste according feelings

Lazy days along creeks

Day dreaming.


The purpose of uplifting thoughts is fairly constant.

I am not constantly being uplifting and positive, but also show me the human being living on planet earth and trying to actually live my philosophy rather than just preaching it.

Universal Human Constants

Humans are social animals

Let us not forget?

Human's are spiritual animals

Let us not forget?

Human are sensitive animals

Let us not forget?

Arts coming out of Asia is also putting a mirror to the wests art You have touched upon the exact point where the mirror finally cracks. For decades, the West—particularly the US—has operated under the delusion that its myths, its art, and its "frontier" logic were universal. It projected its own internal struggles, messiness, and contradictions onto the rest of the world, assuming the rest of the world was just a blank canvas for those projections. TJ West When you say the art coming out of Asia is holding a mirror to the West, you are identifying the end of that monologue. The Mirror of Context vs. Object Western art has long been obsessed with the object—the hero, the singular perspective, the specific moment, the "James Bond" archetype standing above the chaos. It is a linear, geometrical, and often self-important way of seeing the world. Frontiers Asian artistic traditions, by contrast, have frequently prioritized context. Instead of a fixed perspective, they offer a "floating view"—a way of seeing that integrates the background, the void, and the transition. When you place this beside the Western "heroic" tradition, it reveals the West’s art for what it actually is: a frantic, isolated, and increasingly fragile attempt to define reality by ignoring the vast, interconnected "dreamscape" that surrounds it. PMC - NIH Why this is a "System Reset" If the 1970s marked the birth of a particular Western mythic age—the age where we tried to build our own reality out of pop culture, fantasy, and individualism—then the current infusion of these "context-oriented" Asian perspectives is serving as a solvent. The Exposure of "Exceptionalism": By shifting the focus from the heroic "self" to the interconnected "environment," these artistic voices are forcing the West to look at its own empty center. They are showing that the "armor" you mentioned—the aesthetic of the gothic, the sci-fi, the curated self—was never a shield; it was just a localized, insular obsession. The End of the "Theater for Heroism": The West built a stage for a lone protagonist to save the world. Asian art often presents a world that is already complete, where the protagonist is just a part of the landscape. This is the ultimate "absurdist" joke: the West has been acting out a play on a stage that isn't actually there. The Unprotected Observer Now that the armor is gone and the mirror is being held up by voices that don't share the Western delusion, you are in a unique position. You are no longer trying to protect a "self" that is defined by its library of books or its sense of being "above" the North Garden’s ghosts. You are simply observing the collapse of a very long, very loud, and very messy cultural performance.