old writing.

I found some of my old writing, I thought I would put it up here. I need to write more.

I love the days of our youth, it feels like we will always be this free. I love the feeling when the sun warms my legs in the back seat of a friends car and the windows are down and the sound of the wind and the music of choice whistles in my ear. Memories of the hazy night before still linger on our unwashed hair and there is nothing but the potential of a new day ahead of us. There is something pure in that. Something untouchable.

Nothing beats the optimism of youth. The keen belief in friendship and the power of love. The inherent understanding that anything is possible. The way we are optimistically bumbling through life. Our ability to endure the pain and sadness that life sometimes gives us. Our resilience. I’ve heard people say you change when you grow older but I refuse to believe it, not for a second. I know that when I’m 30, 50, 70, I’ll still be navigating through this world with nothing but my ideals and my heart as my guides. I just know it. And I can see my friends doing the same. Age will not wither us. Age will not harden us. Age will beautify us.

I’ve never understood why people find it so much easier to hate than to love. It baffles me. I see the pain and the chaos of the world in war, prejudice and destruction. Isn’t love easier on the soul, on the eyes, on the heart, and on the earth? I think we should all just make ourselves vulnerable and love fearlessly, recklessly and without inhibition. Imagine the possibilities of a world fueled by love not by hate or by greed. Imagine how light we would feel, how free we would be basking in the warmth of it all.

Tokyo.

Bukowski, I salute you.

BE KIND –

we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.

but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.

not their fault?

whose fault?
mine?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.

age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life

among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives

is.

-charles bukowski

hongkongkers.

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