Wednesday, April 27, 2016

The White Noise

My open mouth spills out white noise
Because I cannot bring it to dictate
That which bothers the morose nature
That is hidden beneath linear smiles
Which can be determined as false
Based on the make up that composes it
In this way they finally figured me out
They took the chance to toss the flag
Wave away the motion to kill us all
My open mouth leaks the white noise
It cannot help but insult the wayfarer
It is in all honesty my heel
Poised for destruction based on an arrow
And its direction
My open mouth is dripping white noise
Because that is all it can do
Let's be honest about the truth
Let's be honest and say its false
A means to an end, and a method
A method to save face
Because who can tell where hell ends
And where this earth begins
My open mouth is a disaster waiting to happen
When I speak I cause tremors
When I argue I bleed the trees
and when I scream I kill the universe
This is because I am a tool
My open mouth is white noise
My opnion is a cluster of grey fuzz
My emotions are the insects that cause itching
My choices are insignifcant
When I spew out the facts
They are seen as lies
When I spew out the reasons
They are seen as excuses
And when they do the same
I'll be the recipricol
I'll be their oppressor
Becuase I hold the grudges
That no one admits they hold
When I am wrong
My white noise is right
And when I am positive
My white noise is negative
Let the static annoyances of your determination
Slice open the cyst that is the human condition
Look to this lesson
As I have planned it
And think me foolish
For praying to the white noise.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016


Half the brain moved to the other side,
And shifted its luggage like it was due or die
The world doesn't care if skulls are present
The Brain demands what the brain can
As the faded fables accumulate and brain cells go and deteriorate
It becomes the proximation of the ending
Because though the books are open the mind is lost
It jumps where it can moves where it wants
But the host is stoic and lost
Faded and just simplisticly mute
Watching games, and not computing
That in order to grow they must do more interacting
As the acicidity eats the way
The worms prepare for the day they get to feast
On the rotting emptiness
Of this, our planet earth.

Monday, April 11, 2016

The Big Picture

They bled on the roses
But no one could tell.
But the failings of the gardener
eventually gave way to revelation.
By then though it was too late
The bodies were gone.
It's too late in the night,
And carrion have devoured the impressions.
The roses were not bothered though,
For they were just flowers,
And people were just disease.

Countdown - A short story

Peter felt rather relieved that his fiance had spent a decidedly small amount of the small fortune he thought would be required for the wedding that she wished.  He knew she had compromised ideas and worn herself thin with worry and second-guessing, but she had been frugal and for that he was happy.   It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the fortune for a day that was - hopefully - a one time occasion in his life, but he felt rather bothered by the hullabaloo that went into the day.  Quite plainly Peter thought it silly to spend several months pay on a ceremony when they would later have a lesser amount for their honeymoon.  All in all he was satisfied with her choices, and the fact that he'd be able to spend more at a later time on their vacation.

The big day was at the end of the week, and while the wedding excited him it also placed in his toes a coldness familiar with anxious wedding participants.  He wasn't second-guessing that he loved her but he was second-guessing if he thought he could handle the commitment.  The idea of having to be present for this singular person at least ninety percent of his life, and to start a family and commit to vows that he was terribly afraid to break set in his marrow with a weight not unlike terror.   The terror of failing was his worry.  His feet though cold were not cold on the thought of his bride but on the failings of himself as a human being.

Screw it, he figured, if things didn't work out they were adults.  They could come to a mutual conclusion and understanding that things weren't working and then they could go on their separate ways.  They were big enough people to conquer that pitfall of unhappily married people.  Peter didn't like thinking such things, but he could not help himself.  Statistics about failed married life flooded his head like a growing flu epidemic.  The information was always present to him, if not by some internet headline then it was his mates who would ask him if he was sure and he always quite confidently said of course. 

They didn't hate Peters fiance either, at least he thought, she was quite plainly one of the party and he saw once in awhile hints of jealousy that he had nabbed her before they had had a chance to sink their talons into her.   Peter didn't see her as a prize he won, again he was a realist.  They complimented and benefited each other, the fact that she had a higher level of attractiveness was just a bonus though in the end her redeeming qualities outside of physicality were enough to recommend her to the world.   She could talk to him on end about the geekiest items, but also happily debate their political differences.  It was, Peter thought, almost unreal that he had found her.  He sank into his love seat in their downtown apartment, and sighed to himself even then; however, that sinking feeling set in.

He was bothered by his return to the what ifs of life, but he thought it inescapable.  There had to be an escape plan.  If she was unhappy he wanted to let her know that she could go, and he hoped that she would do the same.  He didn't want to be unhappy, and he always heard that marriage was work, but just in case he wanted terms.  That seemed at odds with the day though.  He doubted himself more.

He didn't like the fact that this was flooding his head now.  He wanted to talk to his fiance about it but he didn't want to bother her.  If he was feeling this way, he was sure that announcing it would only serve to terrify her that the man she was marrying didn't fully love her.  That wasn't the case.  People could fall out of love, but still love right.  He then began thinking about what love even meant.  He then began thinking of his parents.

They had been married for so long, but were less happy for just as many years.  Often they had slept in different rooms, and had spent their days doing opposite things.  As a child he thought nothing of it because those were the roles that were required of them.  She was a homemaker taking care of him and his siblings, and doing the laundry and washing the dishes, and his father worked for countless hours and demanded supper be ready and his house maintained.  That was ordinary.  Then as he got older Peter saw this system change, he saw the independence of all the girls about him, and he didn't want them to be reduced to his servant. The thought almost disgusted him.  Peter wanted whoever he was with to have their own identity, and specific roles were not only not necessary they were highly discouraged.  Through this lens that developed on through his adolescence and into adulthood he began to see his parents relationship as a sham.  They had stayed together out of some misplaced adherence to old religious rules and that was terrifying.  What if Peter once married changed his mind about what he wanted.  What if he in some unconscious way slowly became his father and belittled his wife's feelings, and let her waste away alone as house maid of an empty house.

He shook his head, and sighed again.  He thought about sins of fathers being passed down onto their sons, he thought of genetics and all of these gaps that were slowly filled in with the familiar bile of societies masculine trappings.   Would he always feel so content that his bride was her own person, or would he want her eventually to fall in line and be his property.  He grabbed a class of water and swallowed a few painkillers, the thoughts were piercing his head and he needed to clear his mind.   

The marriage was a bad idea he began to see.  All the bullshit about everlasting love and soul mates, and best friends forever and all the usual suspects of expectations.  Peter didn't want to destroy her so he instead destroyed himself.

Then the door opened and she walked in.  She could feel his unease because the first thing she said when she saw him there with his blank expression was, "What's the matter?"  So he told and ruined everything.