Diary Of A Dead Artist

Solar_Eclipse_Gansu_2I woke up this morning and realized I was dead. I m a ghost of my self and died a long time ago. This is the end. It’s past the end I m not real only a Ghost but I don’t really know it only moments like these but all too soon I go about as if I were still alive and place my self amidst the others. Play it like I was in their script but I am not actually. Because I am dead. Only a ghost in their frame of daily dramas. My shadows only imagined ones as much as my mind and body. I am but a ghost of who I was before.

The light was bright when I was just passing away. Yes that great white light was just as it was when I was born. Was it not the same white light as I came out of my mother’s womb. Pure light of love, pure energy so bright and light almost like flying but not so. I refused to go straight away. That’s why I am here still. You know how it is? But who am I talking to but myself after all I am dead. But I forget. Or maybe I don’t want to admit it. I am just another dissatisfied ghost of who I was before. Hanging on to do what I failed to do before I died. Dissatisfied soul with an unfulfilled life. Or maybe with too many impossible dreams? Over ambitious maybe? What was it did it become too hard as one by one they left you while wanting or was it just plain forgetfulness? Or excessive temptations that led to over-indulgence?

There is no point in hovering around and pretending I am still alive. Dead people cannot contribute anymore to life. The changes I was hoping for. I should have asked for it. At least spoke about them. Why did I not tell them? I was busy, I thought it was not yet time. Quite right. Now they have gone too far. The changes that became what it is now. Oh no!! Why didn’t I say it before? I had a right didn’t I? Well even not at least they could still hear you. Now no matter how loud you shout or yell no one can hear you. It’s too late. Too late my friendly ghost of your past man. Damn!!

It’s too bad!. It’s too late. It’s time to go, but like always you are too slow. Always behind kwhat ever it was supposed to be. Well oh well, that’s why they call me the master of going slower!! haha…look at me. A shadow of what I was before and still I want to stay? Perhaps I should go and rest? But not yet cause I am not in peace yet. How can I ? After all I did, the seeds I planted have not yet found its fruition. No not even started to reach out for the sky. Maybe showed some sprouts but that’s like bean sprouts. Anyone can plant those. What I planted? I don’t really know but surely not just little offshoots of them kuching kurap dah!! Some kind of hybrid for sure. Something that’s good enough to give a fruit for makan and some wood to at least make some decent stool with? If not an actual steady chair. Not a throne it’s ok. I don’t care much for them royalty anyway. But something steady not the kind that has one leg short and make the sitter feel insecure. Or so flimsy it will sink when fatty bomb bomb sits on it!! No not yet for me to rest in peace until i see them leaves at least reach closer to the sky. Yes. That’s why I am still here although I am dead and gone. Can’t go yet. No. Until those leaves reach for the sky….Ghostlee

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3 thoughts on “Diary Of A Dead Artist

  1. Pain of no pain
    Posted on May 2, 2013

    Pain is pain when you feel your body. I used to wake up everyday feeling pain. Now I am dead I feel no more pain. No pain no gain. That’s what they say. But my numbed heart is like a pain no explanation can I offer, the pain of no pain swears on the body of dead nerves like the cross that we bear if only we were to understand how blind we are in our daily lives. Yes I know you may not see it if I shaft it under your king’s nose. No you will not be able to sniff me out cause I am already dead and gone and also because the noses of kings and queens point long and high towards the sky.
    There was a time when i was a bundle of sensations swinging like a pendulum between pain of the deepest kind. The pain that every body had suffered from the beginning of mankind to the euphoric sensations of joy of pleasure.
    I used to wake every day to the sensation of pain, every morning it was the pain before I could feel anything else that needed an urgent response. Before anything else, I felt pain. It was the first thing I felt every morning. A twitch, a stabbing, a bitching… If it was not on my knee, it would be my back, or it would be my neck or just the knuckles of the fingers of my hands. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had my wife by me, just to hear her breathing sounds under the blankets would help me not to feel like this pain could just all end only when I die. It would help make it more bearable. But when I was alone sometimes it felt like this pain would drag me down. All the way down. All the way down to HELL!!!
    No No No I would get up shake these pain off with a will to fight that demon motherfucker killjoy giving me the privilege of a title, or some say the crown of the clown and yet taking away my body and my name. I want to fly in the sky with my body and my own name.
    Using my own will power to do what I want. When you see a man walk down the road with a certainty of every step you take. Every step you take. BUT sometimes I look around and can’t really tell whether we are we or what we are whether we are in heaven or are we in hell. I can never tell. Between the heaven and hell. I could never tell. I could never tell.

    Perhaps I have reached the end. I woke up one day and realized it was over and no more can I do it as before. At first it felt sad that I could not bring myself to admit it. I hovered about and around the familiar people. The friends, lovers, family and all my relations. Nay they were more than that to me. I saw everyone as a soul mate in the eternal network. Even my mother who claimed she doesn’t understand me and this thing i spent my whole life fussing over, fighting over, hahaha I probably even died for it. It got sour in the end. But it had to like a maturing of fruits turning sour due to the natural process of fermentation if we don’t pick them. Yes that was what happened. When fruits are left on the ground and no one to savour them. As how it happened in the sad god forsaken world where I come from, fruits uneaten unsavoured, left on the ground like fallen leaves of ordinary mundanity. Gems left for sand layg in the sun to rot if not turning to soured disdainful beauties unseen, untouched, virgin spooks uncooked.
    Don’t tell me it made you sad my lad. I rather hear you say it angered you. If I were still with you. Yes if i was still alive and kicking! Damn no tears ever won a war. Don’t even bother to wipe me your tears. Pick up your weapons of art and touch that heart of stone into one that bleeds if i were you and if not die trying!!!
    Sssshhhhhhh!!! Easy bro, you aleeady die why still like that want to fight ???

    sigh of sighs

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