They battered my senses with dissatisfaction,
Mutilated with chainsaws, and stripped of its dignity,
My senses pleaded no contest in their criminal court case,
The judge through the book at them,
And together they strolled across the pond,
And pondered what they could have done differently.
My senses rejected me, took me for a fool,
Packed their bags and fled the country,
I'm unsure if they'll return.
I suppose my senses were fed up,
Without their satisfaction,
Lying there so lifeless,
Indecisive,
Indiscreet, and beat,
All their time was limited to nothingness,
and then,
Well it all began to spread,
And when they commited their crime,
It was because of neglect,
On my part, I am ashamed,
I should have shown them more,
Took better care to understand their needs,
Sight, touch, taste, smell, and sound,
They all were left in the dead winter,
While I was sitting by distracted by my loneliness,
Feeling nothingness, is the emptiness,
And at best,
They pitied me, but they couldn't take it,
So they did what they shouldn't they left me,
Committed this crime, and were then forced under penalty of time,
To flee forever.
And I see here in the dark,
I sit here in the dark.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
All those Shitty People, Where Do They All Come From
I've discovered a method to your madness
Of course you'll wiggle out of it,
But your friends are dicks, and bitches
They slander everyone's name and yours
and you continue to smile with them
You are outspoken as they are outspoken
You voice your opinion as they do to, but the difference is
They have an air of superiority
You want to know the truth
I can't stand being around you when they are there
These people, trapped in mediocrity, making sure everyone is as miserable as they are
Unlike them, I cannot stomach it,
The leech like way they poison a mind,
Turn it into something that feels insignifcance, that just beccause you are no one of significance that your words, and your thoughts serve no purpose,
If someone else had said what I said,
If someone else had wrote what I wrote
someone with a status in their eyes,
They would think it interesting, they would contimplate it,
But they say nope, he's no one,
the words can mean nothing, because I think I know him,
And oh yes, they think they know you,
These liars, and spider women,
These jerks, and goblin men,
They know enough to keep you hurling upon the earth
Kicking you in the stomach for sport,
While they have uncontrollable sporatic bowel movements all over themselves,
And they do, they reek of shit, of spoils, of excrement, of partially digested ideas,
And they will dying smelling of a bottomless trash heap,
Because that is what they are trash.
I wish you wouldn't let them touch you before they wash their hands,
You try to be like them,
Because they want to be like you,
If you want to make your life better you need to let these people go,
They already changed you,
You already let them influence your thoughts,
And it broke my heart,
But behind your eyes, I can see, that you are suffering like me
Let them go,
Speed away,
Live.
Of course you'll wiggle out of it,
But your friends are dicks, and bitches
They slander everyone's name and yours
and you continue to smile with them
You are outspoken as they are outspoken
You voice your opinion as they do to, but the difference is
They have an air of superiority
You want to know the truth
I can't stand being around you when they are there
These people, trapped in mediocrity, making sure everyone is as miserable as they are
Unlike them, I cannot stomach it,
The leech like way they poison a mind,
Turn it into something that feels insignifcance, that just beccause you are no one of significance that your words, and your thoughts serve no purpose,
If someone else had said what I said,
If someone else had wrote what I wrote
someone with a status in their eyes,
They would think it interesting, they would contimplate it,
But they say nope, he's no one,
the words can mean nothing, because I think I know him,
And oh yes, they think they know you,
These liars, and spider women,
These jerks, and goblin men,
They know enough to keep you hurling upon the earth
Kicking you in the stomach for sport,
While they have uncontrollable sporatic bowel movements all over themselves,
And they do, they reek of shit, of spoils, of excrement, of partially digested ideas,
And they will dying smelling of a bottomless trash heap,
Because that is what they are trash.
I wish you wouldn't let them touch you before they wash their hands,
You try to be like them,
Because they want to be like you,
If you want to make your life better you need to let these people go,
They already changed you,
You already let them influence your thoughts,
And it broke my heart,
But behind your eyes, I can see, that you are suffering like me
Let them go,
Speed away,
Live.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Innards of a Frog - a short story
Adam took his scalpel and dissected the frog exactly as he was told, and labeled its insides as he was suppose to. He did this properly, with patience, with understanding. He did this as he imagined he would, cool, calculated. After the class was over he packed his things into his locker, and prepared for the ride home. On the bus he thought about the dissection. He began crying, and he did not know why. The tears were suddenly bursting through him. He wiped them quickly so he could hide them from the people behind, in front, and next to him, and to shield them from the bus drivers eyes in the rear view mirror as she inspected the obnoxious teenagers. No sobs were coming from his lips, no lump formed in his throat, just those waterfall of tears streaming down his cheeks, bursting forth from his eye lids. Why was this happening, he pondered. Truth was he couldn't comprehend the cutting of the frog to be the source. How could it be? He didn't flinch as he thought about it, his thoughts were stable before hand, the animal was dead after all. No, it couldn't be the frog.
As he stepped off the bus Adam's tears had subsided but his thoughts on the matter had not. They were still a flood of wonderment to him. So random and bizzare were these tears that they surely, truly, could not have belong to his body. They were a foreign substance inside of him that his body must have been rejecting, and needed to remove, like a splinter that his finger would push out. These tears were not true tears he decided.
This solution worked through dinner, that silent ritual his single mother put him through. Now she was a crier after every meal the familiar click of the lock in her bedroom door singling her misery to young Adam. Tonight would be no different, he could feel it. She slowly cut her steak, slowly chewed it, slowly swallowed it, slowly waited to continue the scene. And then the tears returned. Adam under no control of his own rattled the familiar scene. His mother became alive, concerned, she asked him what was wrong, wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood by his shoulder. "Adam whats the matter?" she repeated.
"Nothing mom, it's silly." He smiled wiping the tears from his eyes. He looked strong and confident, just the way he felt, but the tears were a signal of weakness. His eyes bursting with that familiar ritual that drop like rain down his face, to his chin, on his shirt, or on his plate. A flood.
He knew his mom didn't believe him, "You can tell me sweety. You know that you can tell me anything. I want you to tell me." He looked into her eyes, she really did, she wanted to know. He saw in her eyes she wanted an excuse to get rid of herself, to escape her memories.
Memories of fists, of screaming voices. Memories of blood. Memories of pain, lost love, lost hope. A dream like nightmare, someone she loved with all her heart whom even after he made her lose his baby sister, she stayed with. "We dissected a frog."
"Oh you poor child. How could they make you do such a horrible thing?" She was horrified, cutting into animals.
"I guess it just affected me. The poor thing." He said lying through his teeth. The poor thing had been dead, was always dead, if it had a soul it was long lost, probably in distress that its body was being used for nothing more than a science experiment for people who would never use the information for anything. That poor thing, Adam laughed in his head. The tears were stopping again.
"Maybe you should go to bed early, sleep it off. And remember, I know your older, but I can help Adam, I can help." He knew she needed to feel useful, he knew she longed for conversation, he knew she needed it.
"I know mom." He said, standing up to take her advice, he went to his room but did not sleep.
Most of the night he laid there, staring at the ceiling dreaming of ways he could see the future in it. It was blank slate, white, free. An open canvas, and when he thought about escaping he wanted to cry. He wanted to burst into sobs, and reflect on the misery he went through, and that his mother was punished with. But now when he thought of the things that hurt the most, he could not cry. He could not when he wanted it to happen, the tears were absent, they'd skipped school. And this, this made him angry.
The next day at school he looked over his notes for the frog dissection, he studied, and he took the test. On the bus he didn't cry. At home, he did not cry, but his mother did. Adam was irritated, after another week, he couldn't cry. A bitterness started to grow.
The weekend came, he found himself climbing out in the woods on the tallest trees he could find, like he was a young child again. Alone, no one to dare him, to challenge him, no one to be a winner or a loser in a foot race, a climbing race, a race of wits. He was by himself, with nature.
The thought entered his mind gradually, like a worm emerging from the earth after a cold rainy day. He jumped from the trees and made his way down to the creek. As the night approached he could hear the croaking of toads, the chirp of frogs, echoing, deafening. A horrid song, sung by horrid ugly, slimy disgusting little amphibians. With a rush of naughtiness he searched for one of these chorus singers, he pushed away grass, pushed away slime. Frantically he sought his victim. And then there it was, a big one, a massive one, adult, warty. It was a massive toad. But it resembled the toad next to his petri dish almost exactly. He lunged at it, and it hopped away, he lunged at it again with his open hand. Again he hopped forward.
He gave up, and slammed his booted foot down on its back. It cracked. When he raised his foot he stared at its smashed body, the guts oozing from its mouth, and he felt nothing.
When he made it back to the house eatin to death by mosquitoes, scratching and poking where they'd eatin his blood, he sat to dinner. Like his mother he was silent, rigid, white, pale, uninterested, distracted by his plate. He ate his ear of corn slowly, unlike the usual race to finish. He dropped it from his mouth to the plate with a thud.
"Mom?" He finally said cutting the solid air with his words.
She reacted as if prompted several times instead of the once, "Yes honey?"
"What's wrong with me?"
She shook her head, "Is that frog still bothering you?"
He shook his head.
"Oh." She stood up and walked over to him, she grabbed his plate and put it in the sink. "You need to be more specific Adam." She came back to him and kneeled at his side.
"I think I'm broken." He said. Still a blank look of nothing on his face.
"Oh sweetheart, you are not broken."
"Why can't I feel?"
She poked him with her finger, "You feel that don't you?" she tilted her head and smiled.
"I don't feel bad. I don't feel sad. I don't feel happy. I don't feel good. I feel angry. But I cry. Why do I cry if I feel nothing?" He looked at her, with neither concern or worry on his face. He asked the question, but didn't look like it.
She didn't say anything, her smile faded away. "I don't know."
He stood up and walked to his room, leaving her in the kitchen just staring at him as he walked away. On his ceiling he couldn't see shapes anymore, in fact he couldn't see anything but the gray shadow on his white canvas, the white invisible now in this light. Where were they now?
The next morning he woke, cooked toast, ate it, went to school, studied, came home. He looked for his mother. His mother was nowhere. She was gone. Her suitcase was gone. Her clothing almost all gone. He opened the bathroom slowly and checked the tub, but she was gone.
That's when he saw him. He saw him in the mirror, staring him down. He saw his father teary eyed, as Adam stared back blank, emotionless. Then his father began laughing, and Adam stared back, blank, emotionless.
"Are you coming to eat Adam?" his mother said from the door way.
As he stepped off the bus Adam's tears had subsided but his thoughts on the matter had not. They were still a flood of wonderment to him. So random and bizzare were these tears that they surely, truly, could not have belong to his body. They were a foreign substance inside of him that his body must have been rejecting, and needed to remove, like a splinter that his finger would push out. These tears were not true tears he decided.
This solution worked through dinner, that silent ritual his single mother put him through. Now she was a crier after every meal the familiar click of the lock in her bedroom door singling her misery to young Adam. Tonight would be no different, he could feel it. She slowly cut her steak, slowly chewed it, slowly swallowed it, slowly waited to continue the scene. And then the tears returned. Adam under no control of his own rattled the familiar scene. His mother became alive, concerned, she asked him what was wrong, wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood by his shoulder. "Adam whats the matter?" she repeated.
"Nothing mom, it's silly." He smiled wiping the tears from his eyes. He looked strong and confident, just the way he felt, but the tears were a signal of weakness. His eyes bursting with that familiar ritual that drop like rain down his face, to his chin, on his shirt, or on his plate. A flood.
He knew his mom didn't believe him, "You can tell me sweety. You know that you can tell me anything. I want you to tell me." He looked into her eyes, she really did, she wanted to know. He saw in her eyes she wanted an excuse to get rid of herself, to escape her memories.
Memories of fists, of screaming voices. Memories of blood. Memories of pain, lost love, lost hope. A dream like nightmare, someone she loved with all her heart whom even after he made her lose his baby sister, she stayed with. "We dissected a frog."
"Oh you poor child. How could they make you do such a horrible thing?" She was horrified, cutting into animals.
"I guess it just affected me. The poor thing." He said lying through his teeth. The poor thing had been dead, was always dead, if it had a soul it was long lost, probably in distress that its body was being used for nothing more than a science experiment for people who would never use the information for anything. That poor thing, Adam laughed in his head. The tears were stopping again.
"Maybe you should go to bed early, sleep it off. And remember, I know your older, but I can help Adam, I can help." He knew she needed to feel useful, he knew she longed for conversation, he knew she needed it.
"I know mom." He said, standing up to take her advice, he went to his room but did not sleep.
Most of the night he laid there, staring at the ceiling dreaming of ways he could see the future in it. It was blank slate, white, free. An open canvas, and when he thought about escaping he wanted to cry. He wanted to burst into sobs, and reflect on the misery he went through, and that his mother was punished with. But now when he thought of the things that hurt the most, he could not cry. He could not when he wanted it to happen, the tears were absent, they'd skipped school. And this, this made him angry.
The next day at school he looked over his notes for the frog dissection, he studied, and he took the test. On the bus he didn't cry. At home, he did not cry, but his mother did. Adam was irritated, after another week, he couldn't cry. A bitterness started to grow.
The weekend came, he found himself climbing out in the woods on the tallest trees he could find, like he was a young child again. Alone, no one to dare him, to challenge him, no one to be a winner or a loser in a foot race, a climbing race, a race of wits. He was by himself, with nature.
The thought entered his mind gradually, like a worm emerging from the earth after a cold rainy day. He jumped from the trees and made his way down to the creek. As the night approached he could hear the croaking of toads, the chirp of frogs, echoing, deafening. A horrid song, sung by horrid ugly, slimy disgusting little amphibians. With a rush of naughtiness he searched for one of these chorus singers, he pushed away grass, pushed away slime. Frantically he sought his victim. And then there it was, a big one, a massive one, adult, warty. It was a massive toad. But it resembled the toad next to his petri dish almost exactly. He lunged at it, and it hopped away, he lunged at it again with his open hand. Again he hopped forward.
He gave up, and slammed his booted foot down on its back. It cracked. When he raised his foot he stared at its smashed body, the guts oozing from its mouth, and he felt nothing.
When he made it back to the house eatin to death by mosquitoes, scratching and poking where they'd eatin his blood, he sat to dinner. Like his mother he was silent, rigid, white, pale, uninterested, distracted by his plate. He ate his ear of corn slowly, unlike the usual race to finish. He dropped it from his mouth to the plate with a thud.
"Mom?" He finally said cutting the solid air with his words.
She reacted as if prompted several times instead of the once, "Yes honey?"
"What's wrong with me?"
She shook her head, "Is that frog still bothering you?"
He shook his head.
"Oh." She stood up and walked over to him, she grabbed his plate and put it in the sink. "You need to be more specific Adam." She came back to him and kneeled at his side.
"I think I'm broken." He said. Still a blank look of nothing on his face.
"Oh sweetheart, you are not broken."
"Why can't I feel?"
She poked him with her finger, "You feel that don't you?" she tilted her head and smiled.
"I don't feel bad. I don't feel sad. I don't feel happy. I don't feel good. I feel angry. But I cry. Why do I cry if I feel nothing?" He looked at her, with neither concern or worry on his face. He asked the question, but didn't look like it.
She didn't say anything, her smile faded away. "I don't know."
He stood up and walked to his room, leaving her in the kitchen just staring at him as he walked away. On his ceiling he couldn't see shapes anymore, in fact he couldn't see anything but the gray shadow on his white canvas, the white invisible now in this light. Where were they now?
The next morning he woke, cooked toast, ate it, went to school, studied, came home. He looked for his mother. His mother was nowhere. She was gone. Her suitcase was gone. Her clothing almost all gone. He opened the bathroom slowly and checked the tub, but she was gone.
That's when he saw him. He saw him in the mirror, staring him down. He saw his father teary eyed, as Adam stared back blank, emotionless. Then his father began laughing, and Adam stared back, blank, emotionless.
"Are you coming to eat Adam?" his mother said from the door way.
Holy Bible Quest Part 1
Its a story told in picture stills
A story no one knows
Of a little princess walking tip toed through mile high snow
She looked just like her mother
That's what the onlookers all said
Utterly foolish and crooked but it was all the same to her
There words she couldn't take the time to hear
For she was on this quest
Walking tip toed through mile high snow
As the roosters no longer crowed
She tried for days to brave the weather
She always made it as far as she intended
And always made it back again just the same.
Under her arms she held some books
Stories her father told her, she never read them
It was said, because the princess couldn't read
In fact this was a truth,
Not commonly known by all,
She would make up her own words to the stories
And on its cover it read "Holy Bible"
And what she produced was gospel
The answers they told her were all in this book
They gathered around her and warned,
But she knew nothing of damnation or brimstone
Of salt people, or giant men,
Of blessed hair, or water to wine,
She only knew what she had imagined,
and its true she was just like her mother
All carefree and wild too,
But she had a gentle heart.
A story no one knows
Of a little princess walking tip toed through mile high snow
She looked just like her mother
That's what the onlookers all said
Utterly foolish and crooked but it was all the same to her
There words she couldn't take the time to hear
For she was on this quest
Walking tip toed through mile high snow
As the roosters no longer crowed
She tried for days to brave the weather
She always made it as far as she intended
And always made it back again just the same.
Under her arms she held some books
Stories her father told her, she never read them
It was said, because the princess couldn't read
In fact this was a truth,
Not commonly known by all,
She would make up her own words to the stories
And on its cover it read "Holy Bible"
And what she produced was gospel
The answers they told her were all in this book
They gathered around her and warned,
But she knew nothing of damnation or brimstone
Of salt people, or giant men,
Of blessed hair, or water to wine,
She only knew what she had imagined,
and its true she was just like her mother
All carefree and wild too,
But she had a gentle heart.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Happiness: The Beautiful Lie.
"It's a compelling argument," she said removing her shoes.
"Not have as good as yours," he said removing his socks.
"I've had lots of practice," she said removing her earrings.
"Probably more than I'd like to know," he said removing his belt.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said removing her skirt.
"Actually yes I would." he said removing his shirt.
"Believe me no you won't." she said removing her blouse.
"And why is that?" he said removing his slacks.
"Because you won't like the truth." she said removing her brassiere.
"I like what I see." he said removing his briefs.
"This is only skin honey." she said removing her panties.
"Truth doesn't matter." he said removing his glasses.
"Truth always matters." she said as she laid down.
"I could take it you know." he said laying down beside her.
"No you can't, it would kill you." she said as she kissed his lips.
"I'm tougher than that, truth can't mortally wound me." he said kissing on her ear.
"Don't tempt me." she said as she pushed him away.
"Tell me, what truth could you have that could harm me." he said as he boiled up with pride.
"No, because I'm decent, and I'm kind. The mistakes of my past lives are not for you to dissect, are not for you to comb over, and to inspect with a fine tooth comb. The mysteries of my being must be kept from you, the horrors I wish to forget." she said as she returned that which she had removed.
"Where are you going?" he said standing bare naked at the foot of the bed.
"I love you too much to let your heart fester with hatred over those you never knew. Over a history that doesn't concern you. I am too good to do that to you. It will only make you angry to think that some man or men have conquered me. That someone spoiled your prize. I've heard this song and dance before, it's too familiar. You'll want to be done with one truth, but then you'll wonder if there's more. And you'll ask and you'll pry, and inside I'll die. I cherish these moments with you, with us, but not with them. You could have lived a beautiful lie." she said as she slammed the door behind.
"Fuck." he said as he stood exposed.
"Not have as good as yours," he said removing his socks.
"I've had lots of practice," she said removing her earrings.
"Probably more than I'd like to know," he said removing his belt.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said removing her skirt.
"Actually yes I would." he said removing his shirt.
"Believe me no you won't." she said removing her blouse.
"And why is that?" he said removing his slacks.
"Because you won't like the truth." she said removing her brassiere.
"I like what I see." he said removing his briefs.
"This is only skin honey." she said removing her panties.
"Truth doesn't matter." he said removing his glasses.
"Truth always matters." she said as she laid down.
"I could take it you know." he said laying down beside her.
"No you can't, it would kill you." she said as she kissed his lips.
"I'm tougher than that, truth can't mortally wound me." he said kissing on her ear.
"Don't tempt me." she said as she pushed him away.
"Tell me, what truth could you have that could harm me." he said as he boiled up with pride.
"No, because I'm decent, and I'm kind. The mistakes of my past lives are not for you to dissect, are not for you to comb over, and to inspect with a fine tooth comb. The mysteries of my being must be kept from you, the horrors I wish to forget." she said as she returned that which she had removed.
"Where are you going?" he said standing bare naked at the foot of the bed.
"I love you too much to let your heart fester with hatred over those you never knew. Over a history that doesn't concern you. I am too good to do that to you. It will only make you angry to think that some man or men have conquered me. That someone spoiled your prize. I've heard this song and dance before, it's too familiar. You'll want to be done with one truth, but then you'll wonder if there's more. And you'll ask and you'll pry, and inside I'll die. I cherish these moments with you, with us, but not with them. You could have lived a beautiful lie." she said as she slammed the door behind.
"Fuck." he said as he stood exposed.
Color Coated Copy
I am blanketed in colors
They clothe me
Blue Pink Green
They serenade me
Coat me in their fictions
I am covered in their complexity
White Black Gray
They fill me with joys
Utterances of happiness
Echoed in silly whispers
Voices hushed by their fathers
Voices silenced by their mothers
I am here in these colors
A rainbow pattern on a blank palet
That taste sweet going down
I am here in this place
Dissecting the sunshine
Because it can not be deciphered
I am light
I am colors
I am joyous ocassion
I am blanketed in colors
Joyless and drab
Maroon Peach Hazel
Brown Teal
Pitched in darkness
Bathed in light
Slighted by circumstance
I dance here
I can't there
I am hushed
Silenced
Brought back to mercury
brought back to burgundy
i know you
Red
red
red.
They clothe me
Blue Pink Green
They serenade me
Coat me in their fictions
I am covered in their complexity
White Black Gray
They fill me with joys
Utterances of happiness
Echoed in silly whispers
Voices hushed by their fathers
Voices silenced by their mothers
I am here in these colors
A rainbow pattern on a blank palet
That taste sweet going down
I am here in this place
Dissecting the sunshine
Because it can not be deciphered
I am light
I am colors
I am joyous ocassion
I am blanketed in colors
Joyless and drab
Maroon Peach Hazel
Brown Teal
Pitched in darkness
Bathed in light
Slighted by circumstance
I dance here
I can't there
I am hushed
Silenced
Brought back to mercury
brought back to burgundy
i know you
Red
red
red.
Living in My Shadow
My reputation proceeds me and I am trapped.
Because it shut me in here and locked the door
Because it can't stand that i've strived for more
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me and it tears me down
Because it has a hammer and it won't relent
Because it knows I know that i'm trapped by it
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me and it mocks me thus
Because it knows i can do nothing to defend myself
Because it knows what i was
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I won't let it keep me
Because i am not my reputation
Because I am forever changing
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I will debunk it
Because i know more than it knows
Because its stuck in the past
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I just can't care
Because I am not my reputation
Because i breathe my own airs
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
Because it shut me in here and locked the door
Because it can't stand that i've strived for more
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me and it tears me down
Because it has a hammer and it won't relent
Because it knows I know that i'm trapped by it
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me and it mocks me thus
Because it knows i can do nothing to defend myself
Because it knows what i was
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I won't let it keep me
Because i am not my reputation
Because I am forever changing
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I will debunk it
Because i know more than it knows
Because its stuck in the past
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
My reputation proceeds me but I just can't care
Because I am not my reputation
Because i breathe my own airs
Yes my reputation is bitter and jealous because its stale and unchanging
Thank You TV, Thank You Movies. Thank You Mad Men.
Currently watching Mad Men, that AMC show that you've heard so much about that you probably are or are not watching for any particular reason, I know right, that made absolute perfect sense, while being a completely idiotic statement. As i've grown up I have really matured in my TV and movie viewing, because I find that I still like the same type of shows and films, but the thing thats changed is how much more I appreciate the styles I watch. Take Mad Men for example, maybe a year ago I would have watched thought it was okay, good acting, interesting dramatic plots, a period piece (which I love) but I wouldn't have been wowed then, and the reason is, is that I might not have stopped to truly watch it, it might have been a passing fad, something that I checked out and watched as i was typing something up, something as a distraction, entertaining, but ignorable, and not because its bad, it isn't in the slightest, at that time I probably would have admitted it was good, and admired it. In fact i'd probably feel the same way as I do now. So whats my point? I seem to contradict myself at every turn so far with what i'm writing. I think its life, that is the point. As I experience each new woe, and triumph as I grow up, I love a certain dynamic in television and motion pictures. I seem to understand the plots more, the character dynamics, their choices, and reprucussion. Yes these are fictional characters we are watching, even biopics, we are watching a dramatic, fictionalized version of a real person. The people behind all this is the writer, the creator, the god of the piece if you will, who made something from nothing, man from dust, they are creating living breathing creations, whom if occupied by the right channel, right actor, become real undeniable flesh a blood, inhabiting a planet earth of their own devising. We are witnessing an alternative reality when we view real good cinema, real good television, when we even read a book to a lesser degree (not to knock books, i love them, I read when i can, enjoy it, a whole world created by an author, but this is visual media i'm talking about here). These are real people, inhabiting if not true to life dialogue, sentiments that are true to life, written by real people. Mad Men is a perfect example of this philosophy of media, that it inhabits a new universe all its own, in sync with ours. These people are flawed, dishonest, hurting, bitter, desperate, loving, scared, witless, digusting people, and sometimes one person inhabits all these traits, this is a show that doesn't give easy answers, it gives us the impulse of most peoples natures, it gives us the stupidity of the human race in its most elegant form. The average horror we can inflict on our loved ones, that isn't murder, or cheap melodrama, but subtle rage built up, burning behind smiles, behind gentle eyes, people with deep sorrows who act professional but want to lash out. This is a testament to the writers, this is a testament to the actors and actresses, this is a testament to anyone who has a bit part in this show, this is a testament to a director, the orchestrator, the architect, who has the pieces and knows where to put them. How a show likes this, or Dexter in a different light, can do this, build us this alternative world, with real people, and make one care for them, feel with them, judge them, hate them, love them, empathize with them. It is shows like this, behind all the sex, allure, beautiful faces, chain smoking, behind all that stuff that reveals something about human nature, drama is a window into ourselves, and if we let it it can make us better people. Mad Men won't change the world, that is not my point but all good drama, all good comedy, even horror, lets us understand something about the human condition. If people could accept this, and not scoff or mock the people who see it this way already, maybe this world could be a better place. Instead many of us are too distant from it, we see silly distractions from these outlets, we don't want to accept that they say something other than executives trying to make money behind the scenes, some shows, i believe serve this purpose. I think movies, and television, and music, literature, have made me a better person. And i thank people like the cast, writers, directors, crew of a show like Mad Men for doing that. These shows, these movies, give us a window into worlds we will never see for ourselves, if more people accepted this I think things would be better.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Reaction Buttons
added some reaction buttons at the bottom of each post, please if you don't want to take the time to comment on anything at least click on one of the boxes with your initial gut reaction to whatever you just read, I do say shit to polish in my sub title so even if you think its good or bad just give me an idea what you out there are thinking. Thank you.
The Suicide of Tinkerbell
She waved pixie dust over them
And told them to think happy
They smiled and refused
And she took their joy away
She took a time to think it over
And for them to do the same
And returned and repeated
But they hadn't changed a thing
She waved her hands,
She was done with them
And she flew away to neverland
She cast her eyes onto her place
Atop a tree like tower
And she rested her wings behind her
trying to sleep the disappointment away
But she couldn't bear it,
She didn't understand it,
How had so much changed
The next morning she sought her answers,
Flipping threw a news page
She saw towers burning,
Bombs were dropping
And children were crying heavy
Where had all the joy gone now
Where did all the smiles hide
She tried to find a purpose for her purpose
But to no avail her job was through,
Returning to the little child room
She slit her her wrist and hung herself
Because no one wanted innocence
And when they heard of this back where she came from
They didn't understand,
All the things they took for granted
They saw could be destroyed
And in the midst of thinking this,
They quickly made a game
In her memory
For that's how children should play.
And not be stuck with misery.
And told them to think happy
They smiled and refused
And she took their joy away
She took a time to think it over
And for them to do the same
And returned and repeated
But they hadn't changed a thing
She waved her hands,
She was done with them
And she flew away to neverland
She cast her eyes onto her place
Atop a tree like tower
And she rested her wings behind her
trying to sleep the disappointment away
But she couldn't bear it,
She didn't understand it,
How had so much changed
The next morning she sought her answers,
Flipping threw a news page
She saw towers burning,
Bombs were dropping
And children were crying heavy
Where had all the joy gone now
Where did all the smiles hide
She tried to find a purpose for her purpose
But to no avail her job was through,
Returning to the little child room
She slit her her wrist and hung herself
Because no one wanted innocence
And when they heard of this back where she came from
They didn't understand,
All the things they took for granted
They saw could be destroyed
And in the midst of thinking this,
They quickly made a game
In her memory
For that's how children should play.
And not be stuck with misery.
International Highway
There is a road they said that wanders on its own
And all those upon it are never sure where they will end up
They go to the city of misery,
And live int he town of mystery,
But on this road,
Should they choose to take it,
Could be taken to the obvious and happiness.
There is this road some say that just doesn't go one way
But twirls around and cuts in on itself
So that you may end up where you came from
A little thinner,
A little hungrier,
And maybe a bit bitter,
This road they say
Goes all the way
Into the village of hope
And into the kingdom of desire,
But you may not get there over night
In fact you may rest on the road for all times,
For the sake of a journey
no one wanted to travel.
In fact there are many who choose the road because of its ever changing scenery
They see snow one day
And flowers the next
They see smiles on tree branches bare and naked
And they see frowns on blooming apple branches heavy and sulking
They say this road is always clear
Who clears it no one knows
But all those who walk that path,
They never cared to know,
It is a journey to a destination
A destination not yet determined
and in that journey they find solace
in having traveled at all,
Some think its a dream they've all encountered collectively
And who can blame them
Because instinctively,
We cannot hold still too long.
And all those upon it are never sure where they will end up
They go to the city of misery,
And live int he town of mystery,
But on this road,
Should they choose to take it,
Could be taken to the obvious and happiness.
There is this road some say that just doesn't go one way
But twirls around and cuts in on itself
So that you may end up where you came from
A little thinner,
A little hungrier,
And maybe a bit bitter,
This road they say
Goes all the way
Into the village of hope
And into the kingdom of desire,
But you may not get there over night
In fact you may rest on the road for all times,
For the sake of a journey
no one wanted to travel.
In fact there are many who choose the road because of its ever changing scenery
They see snow one day
And flowers the next
They see smiles on tree branches bare and naked
And they see frowns on blooming apple branches heavy and sulking
They say this road is always clear
Who clears it no one knows
But all those who walk that path,
They never cared to know,
It is a journey to a destination
A destination not yet determined
and in that journey they find solace
in having traveled at all,
Some think its a dream they've all encountered collectively
And who can blame them
Because instinctively,
We cannot hold still too long.
The Defeatist Remarks, "I can't"
I think it was a defeatist who said,
I'm happy the way I am,
look.
I think he was right or probably she
It doesn't matter
A sexist, is what it was,
and a liar.
The defeatist would smile often,
but not too much
just a little
A grin hiding crooked teeth,
muttering a word like fierce.
Tigers are fierce,
not people.
We the defeatist remarked are beautiful wallflowers,
A splatter pattern seen as pedals on our wall,
We don't need to strive to anything else,
than what we already are.
and then she cried deeply into her pillow,
and stared at a model in a toothpaste ad,
and remarked that she wished her teeth were that shiny.
The defeatist was, is still here,
as much as those who think they are ahead of the curve,
I don't know if I disagree with their terms,
But I hate their arrogance,
The defeatist is a little person trying to be strong,
not making themselves stronger,
Trying to have its appearance,
They crack more than the honest ones,
The depressed ones,
More than the complainers,
the defeatist is likely to seek out the noose.
I've said much about the defeatist,
I've remarked remarkably about this hypocrite,
Because i've tried to adopt her persona before,
And the best solution is honesty,
I am unhappy with this, and that,
I am unhappy in my poverty,
i am unhappy in my looks,
I am unhappy in love,
But i am okay with that, I am happy in a type of misery,
But I will not pretend I don't want the rest,
I will not sit here, and lie to you, or anyone by saying I dream of the way I am,
This is not my perfection,
And while the defeatist grows bitter with age,
And what ifs,
I will grow content and satisfied with age,
and grow like a wine,
Better, and still pondering what ifs, but pleased with my now.
Now what of the artsy ones,
Those that fill the spotlight,
Those whose mediocrity but buttering up has landed them on the silver plate
of a fast food joint,
Who spew out the odd ones, because they believe they have achieved a celebrity
What of them,
Let them have it, let them have the first and middle laughs,
But I will have a last one,
I don't say this out of bitterness I say this out of respect
For those who struggle daily,
Those with true talent who are squandered because somebody blew the proper people
I say this because you don't deserve your fifteen minutes, but that's okay,
I see you, those who think because they know this act or that scene,
And can sing this song just "okay" that they have reached some higher plain
That they are better than us,
I see you, and you make me sick, you pricks,
You fuckers,
I am bitter on this point, but not for long, one day you will envy me,
You will say to yourself, he's not so good, he kind of sucks,
You will mock those with guts from a front row seat because your casting is assured,
Somehow you have surpassed a rat, but your still a feral cat,
I am man,
I am a human being,
and I will prove this american dream.
The defeatist see's you and follows you around like a damned dog
He looks your dirty feet,
She dresses your wounds and listens to your self loving bullshit,
I am a bitter person,
I am not me,
But a version of the lost souls,
Struggling from within
And starting without,
I am them, all of them, pissed, driven, but afraid,
The one time complainers, who realized the game can be one
with enough quarters,
The truth is you don't have taste,
You don't have virtue,
You don't have time,
i bleed sadness, and I bleed drive,
While my mind is clouded and muddled,
A one time almost temporary defeatist,
I tried to persuade myself to think "realistically"
but I will rise up,
And be happy with my life, and my choices, because they are what I want,
I will arrive at my destination because I drove me their,
I will become my own idol,
i will worship me, and keep myself polished,
And I will be prideful in my accomplishments,
In my wife,
In my children,
In my work,
In my time here on this pitiful sad planet,
I will hope the future can be as bright,
I will hope this for my children,
And when I die I will be burned,
Turned to ashes,
Because I am gone.
The defeatist would say misery is her friend
That he needs it
Deserves it,
And it does deserve it, and needs it,
It needs a reason to be defeated,
And I will not offer my hand more than i can,
i will not let them make me a part of their club,
i will set the scene,
light the mood,
and mold my life, and my thoughts to my carriage,
and i will ride comfortably into the sun,
loved,
understood,
and complicated,
filled with what ifs, and how did i accomplish this, i will take pleasure in that,
What i managed to do, not what i could have done,
To have grown from a fetus into a human,
From a baby into a boy,
from a boy into a man,
To have survived as long as I will,
That,
That is a success story,
While never wishing ill will on anyone,
While never purposely hurting anybody,
While being direct, and bitter to make people wake up,
I am him,
I am me,
I am sorry for that.
I'm happy the way I am,
look.
I think he was right or probably she
It doesn't matter
A sexist, is what it was,
and a liar.
The defeatist would smile often,
but not too much
just a little
A grin hiding crooked teeth,
muttering a word like fierce.
Tigers are fierce,
not people.
We the defeatist remarked are beautiful wallflowers,
A splatter pattern seen as pedals on our wall,
We don't need to strive to anything else,
than what we already are.
and then she cried deeply into her pillow,
and stared at a model in a toothpaste ad,
and remarked that she wished her teeth were that shiny.
The defeatist was, is still here,
as much as those who think they are ahead of the curve,
I don't know if I disagree with their terms,
But I hate their arrogance,
The defeatist is a little person trying to be strong,
not making themselves stronger,
Trying to have its appearance,
They crack more than the honest ones,
The depressed ones,
More than the complainers,
the defeatist is likely to seek out the noose.
I've said much about the defeatist,
I've remarked remarkably about this hypocrite,
Because i've tried to adopt her persona before,
And the best solution is honesty,
I am unhappy with this, and that,
I am unhappy in my poverty,
i am unhappy in my looks,
I am unhappy in love,
But i am okay with that, I am happy in a type of misery,
But I will not pretend I don't want the rest,
I will not sit here, and lie to you, or anyone by saying I dream of the way I am,
This is not my perfection,
And while the defeatist grows bitter with age,
And what ifs,
I will grow content and satisfied with age,
and grow like a wine,
Better, and still pondering what ifs, but pleased with my now.
Now what of the artsy ones,
Those that fill the spotlight,
Those whose mediocrity but buttering up has landed them on the silver plate
of a fast food joint,
Who spew out the odd ones, because they believe they have achieved a celebrity
What of them,
Let them have it, let them have the first and middle laughs,
But I will have a last one,
I don't say this out of bitterness I say this out of respect
For those who struggle daily,
Those with true talent who are squandered because somebody blew the proper people
I say this because you don't deserve your fifteen minutes, but that's okay,
I see you, those who think because they know this act or that scene,
And can sing this song just "okay" that they have reached some higher plain
That they are better than us,
I see you, and you make me sick, you pricks,
You fuckers,
I am bitter on this point, but not for long, one day you will envy me,
You will say to yourself, he's not so good, he kind of sucks,
You will mock those with guts from a front row seat because your casting is assured,
Somehow you have surpassed a rat, but your still a feral cat,
I am man,
I am a human being,
and I will prove this american dream.
The defeatist see's you and follows you around like a damned dog
He looks your dirty feet,
She dresses your wounds and listens to your self loving bullshit,
I am a bitter person,
I am not me,
But a version of the lost souls,
Struggling from within
And starting without,
I am them, all of them, pissed, driven, but afraid,
The one time complainers, who realized the game can be one
with enough quarters,
The truth is you don't have taste,
You don't have virtue,
You don't have time,
i bleed sadness, and I bleed drive,
While my mind is clouded and muddled,
A one time almost temporary defeatist,
I tried to persuade myself to think "realistically"
but I will rise up,
And be happy with my life, and my choices, because they are what I want,
I will arrive at my destination because I drove me their,
I will become my own idol,
i will worship me, and keep myself polished,
And I will be prideful in my accomplishments,
In my wife,
In my children,
In my work,
In my time here on this pitiful sad planet,
I will hope the future can be as bright,
I will hope this for my children,
And when I die I will be burned,
Turned to ashes,
Because I am gone.
The defeatist would say misery is her friend
That he needs it
Deserves it,
And it does deserve it, and needs it,
It needs a reason to be defeated,
And I will not offer my hand more than i can,
i will not let them make me a part of their club,
i will set the scene,
light the mood,
and mold my life, and my thoughts to my carriage,
and i will ride comfortably into the sun,
loved,
understood,
and complicated,
filled with what ifs, and how did i accomplish this, i will take pleasure in that,
What i managed to do, not what i could have done,
To have grown from a fetus into a human,
From a baby into a boy,
from a boy into a man,
To have survived as long as I will,
That,
That is a success story,
While never wishing ill will on anyone,
While never purposely hurting anybody,
While being direct, and bitter to make people wake up,
I am him,
I am me,
I am sorry for that.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
My Favorite Moments in Movies: Action/Suspense.
The Movie: Terminator 2
The Scene: The T1000 is chasing down Arnies terminator, John Connor and Sarah Connor, slamming into their slow ass truck, it is basically glued to the bumper, Arnold loses a grenade round as he tries to reload so he improvises my grabbing his assault rifle off the dash, climbing through the back of the truck and onto the hood of the chasing Cryo truck, and kneels at the windshield pumping the liquid metal antagonist full of bullets, and twisting the wheel so that it crashes.
When: Near the end of the movie, it is the final vehicle chase of the film, and this moment is at the chases end.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5lBO6ndaf8
The Movie: Alien
The Scene: Chestbuster. Self-explanatory.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuapyExYJBI
The Movie: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
The Scene: The entire tank chase sequence. Since both heroes are fighting, one on the inside, one on the outside, influencing events both in and out, its amazing, after all these years the scene stands as one of the best action scenes ever, shadowed of course by....
The Movie: Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Scene: Truck chase. Self-Explanatory. They don't make them like these anymore.
The Movie: Inception
The Scene: The winding hallway, and hotel room sequence, even a glimpse of it in the previews was bad ass, and it is exceptionally brief, but its probably the most iconic image from the whole movie.
The Movie: Let Me In
The Scene: Richard Jenkins hiding in the back seat of a young man's car as his plan to acquire blood for his vampire are royally screwed up. I just love how they set it up, and put the camera in the car as it rolls down the hill. Great sequence.
The Movie: The Matrix Reloaded
The Scene: during the highway chase, when one of the ghost like twins leaves his vehicle for the car the heroes are in and proceeds to have a fight with them in the car, i find myself smiling at this sequence, because after all the lengthy kung fu scenes this one seems goofy but at the same time amazingly awesome.
The Movie: Collateral
The Scene: Jamie Foxx is tied to the steering wheel of his taxi that hitman Tom Cruise has hijacked essentially. It is towards the end of the scene after Jamie Foxx is robbed by some redneck hooligans and Cruises assassin re-emerges, they try to threaten him by putting a gun in his face but with lightning speed he takes the gun and turns it on the two and dispatches them just as quickly, recovers some stolen property and puts one more in the head as he walks by to make sure.
The Movie: Wanted
The Scene: our hero Wesley just told off his boss, and his "best" friend tries to high five him calling him the man, Wesley slams a keyboard into his face instead, and the flying letters go toward the screen spelling FUCK YO with a flying tooth making up the last U.
The Movie: From Russia with Love
The Scene: the fist fight on the train is amazing, watch it!
The Movie: X-2 X-Men United
The Scene: the opening Nightcrawler sequence is still pretty sweet, and a bad ass way to open up a movie.
The Movie: Brick
The Scene: Joseph Gordon Levitts high school private eye type is being chased by a local knife wielding goon, going around the corner of the high school lockers, Levitt takes off his shoes as the footsteps of the assailant grow closer he turns back in the direction they are coming and slides out feet first tripping the man and sending him headfirst into a metal pole. Best part about it is that there is no music, all you hear are those footsteps through the whole thing, brilliant.
The Movie: No Country for Old Men
The Scene: Woody Harrelson sits in a chair across from Javier Bardems psychotic killer, and just watch the sweat and defiance of Harrelson as he literally stares down the barrel of his demise trying even though he knows he's defeated to reason with a man he knows he can't reason with. Brilliant!
Those are good enough for now. I may come back and re-edit this post, add some more stuff try and include video, but here we are.
The Scene: The T1000 is chasing down Arnies terminator, John Connor and Sarah Connor, slamming into their slow ass truck, it is basically glued to the bumper, Arnold loses a grenade round as he tries to reload so he improvises my grabbing his assault rifle off the dash, climbing through the back of the truck and onto the hood of the chasing Cryo truck, and kneels at the windshield pumping the liquid metal antagonist full of bullets, and twisting the wheel so that it crashes.
When: Near the end of the movie, it is the final vehicle chase of the film, and this moment is at the chases end.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5lBO6ndaf8
The Movie: Alien
The Scene: Chestbuster. Self-explanatory.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuapyExYJBI
The Movie: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
The Scene: The entire tank chase sequence. Since both heroes are fighting, one on the inside, one on the outside, influencing events both in and out, its amazing, after all these years the scene stands as one of the best action scenes ever, shadowed of course by....
The Movie: Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
The Scene: Truck chase. Self-Explanatory. They don't make them like these anymore.
The Movie: Inception
The Scene: The winding hallway, and hotel room sequence, even a glimpse of it in the previews was bad ass, and it is exceptionally brief, but its probably the most iconic image from the whole movie.
The Movie: Let Me In
The Scene: Richard Jenkins hiding in the back seat of a young man's car as his plan to acquire blood for his vampire are royally screwed up. I just love how they set it up, and put the camera in the car as it rolls down the hill. Great sequence.
The Movie: The Matrix Reloaded
The Scene: during the highway chase, when one of the ghost like twins leaves his vehicle for the car the heroes are in and proceeds to have a fight with them in the car, i find myself smiling at this sequence, because after all the lengthy kung fu scenes this one seems goofy but at the same time amazingly awesome.
The Movie: Collateral
The Scene: Jamie Foxx is tied to the steering wheel of his taxi that hitman Tom Cruise has hijacked essentially. It is towards the end of the scene after Jamie Foxx is robbed by some redneck hooligans and Cruises assassin re-emerges, they try to threaten him by putting a gun in his face but with lightning speed he takes the gun and turns it on the two and dispatches them just as quickly, recovers some stolen property and puts one more in the head as he walks by to make sure.
The Movie: Wanted
The Scene: our hero Wesley just told off his boss, and his "best" friend tries to high five him calling him the man, Wesley slams a keyboard into his face instead, and the flying letters go toward the screen spelling FUCK YO with a flying tooth making up the last U.
The Movie: From Russia with Love
The Scene: the fist fight on the train is amazing, watch it!
The Movie: X-2 X-Men United
The Scene: the opening Nightcrawler sequence is still pretty sweet, and a bad ass way to open up a movie.
The Movie: Brick
The Scene: Joseph Gordon Levitts high school private eye type is being chased by a local knife wielding goon, going around the corner of the high school lockers, Levitt takes off his shoes as the footsteps of the assailant grow closer he turns back in the direction they are coming and slides out feet first tripping the man and sending him headfirst into a metal pole. Best part about it is that there is no music, all you hear are those footsteps through the whole thing, brilliant.
The Movie: No Country for Old Men
The Scene: Woody Harrelson sits in a chair across from Javier Bardems psychotic killer, and just watch the sweat and defiance of Harrelson as he literally stares down the barrel of his demise trying even though he knows he's defeated to reason with a man he knows he can't reason with. Brilliant!
Those are good enough for now. I may come back and re-edit this post, add some more stuff try and include video, but here we are.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Survey Says
Why,
what's the point?
Why,
Do I do this to myself.
You won't change,
You won't change.
Why,
What's the answer?
Why,
Do you do this to me now,
It won't change,
It won't change,
Why,
Whats wrong with you?
Why?
Do I even bother with it,
Thing don't change,
No they don't change,
Never,
Change.
Why?
Am I Afraid of this?
Why?
Do I go on feeling sick?
Its not changing
Its not changing
its not changing
Why?
Do I see spots?
Why?
Am I vomiting socks?
Its already changed,
How has it changed,
I didn't blink
I was right here
Watching it all the time
You kissed my lips,
And I kissed yours,
I fell through the floor,
Like a ghost,
Flesh white and translucant,
Fading fast,
The change is changing back
Why?
Is it back to this again?
Why?
Do you continue to lie?
About our change,
About our change,
Why?
Am I crying inside?
Why?
Do I feel rage out here?
Because of the change,
Because of the change,
Why?
Are you staring at me?
Why?
Do you need me again?
Promise me if it changes,
That they'll remain, these changes,
Why not?
Why not?
Why?
W-
what's the point?
Why,
Do I do this to myself.
You won't change,
You won't change.
Why,
What's the answer?
Why,
Do you do this to me now,
It won't change,
It won't change,
Why,
Whats wrong with you?
Why?
Do I even bother with it,
Thing don't change,
No they don't change,
Never,
Change.
Why?
Am I Afraid of this?
Why?
Do I go on feeling sick?
Its not changing
Its not changing
its not changing
Why?
Do I see spots?
Why?
Am I vomiting socks?
Its already changed,
How has it changed,
I didn't blink
I was right here
Watching it all the time
You kissed my lips,
And I kissed yours,
I fell through the floor,
Like a ghost,
Flesh white and translucant,
Fading fast,
The change is changing back
Why?
Is it back to this again?
Why?
Do you continue to lie?
About our change,
About our change,
Why?
Am I crying inside?
Why?
Do I feel rage out here?
Because of the change,
Because of the change,
Why?
Are you staring at me?
Why?
Do you need me again?
Promise me if it changes,
That they'll remain, these changes,
Why not?
Why not?
Why?
W-
The Room
This is my room
See the posters on the wall
All the people smiling for you
Movie stars,
And big pop stars,
And everybody that you hate
yes this is the room
the place I go to keep you out,
Fake smiles looking at me
Soothing through me,
Dancing on me,
This is my room
Pardon all the mess,
Scraps of paper around the desk
Little songs I wrote in spite of you,
Or to spite you I forget
yes this is the room
No your not allowed in without me
Stay off my bed,
Don't stain my sheets,
Only stand where I can see you,
hands where I can see them too,
Don't fuck around now,
Or i'll have to shoot you down,
Welcome to my room,
Its a hacks apartment all lit up with broken lights,
Glass shattered from the night,
Before we met,
yes this is the room
Where my dreams won't come true
Hours and hours of sitting down
Waiting on the sound
of inspiration,
Though for awhile its been dead,
Caged in my sins,
Lost in the reverse psychology of me,
My room,
Is a place of torture and serenity,
Computer screens staring back at me
Blank and desperate,
Even after all this time i'm lost in here,
Can't find the door amongst the tears,
Yes this is the room,
Where a legend could be born,
But not today,
So please go away,
Leave the window cracked,
Let in the breeze,
I'm desperate for it,
So would be so kind, please,
And thank you.
My room, my room, my room,
I'm not sure if I can get it from around me,
Break the boundary,
make the sound react,
a friction blast,
I can't last like this,
The whole wide world and its beady little red eyes staring down at me,
Eating away at me,
Taking the piss with me
Ripping me to shreds,
Now i'm off to bed,
I can't keep on dreaming of death songs,
Cause I just want to live here,
in my room,
A disguise in place,
Where my guise is restrained,
like a shirt hanging in my closet,
Neatly dangling there,
When i'm forced to leave,
oh yes i'm forced to leave,
I can only hope one day i'll find our room,
Where we can hang out insecurities on the walls,
Put our hopes on a shelf like little china dolls,
Breathe lightly with one another,
Feel safe and secure in a little hollow cage,
Serenity,
My room, is serenity, our room, is serenity,
Please shut off the light.
See the posters on the wall
All the people smiling for you
Movie stars,
And big pop stars,
And everybody that you hate
yes this is the room
the place I go to keep you out,
Fake smiles looking at me
Soothing through me,
Dancing on me,
This is my room
Pardon all the mess,
Scraps of paper around the desk
Little songs I wrote in spite of you,
Or to spite you I forget
yes this is the room
No your not allowed in without me
Stay off my bed,
Don't stain my sheets,
Only stand where I can see you,
hands where I can see them too,
Don't fuck around now,
Or i'll have to shoot you down,
Welcome to my room,
Its a hacks apartment all lit up with broken lights,
Glass shattered from the night,
Before we met,
yes this is the room
Where my dreams won't come true
Hours and hours of sitting down
Waiting on the sound
of inspiration,
Though for awhile its been dead,
Caged in my sins,
Lost in the reverse psychology of me,
My room,
Is a place of torture and serenity,
Computer screens staring back at me
Blank and desperate,
Even after all this time i'm lost in here,
Can't find the door amongst the tears,
Yes this is the room,
Where a legend could be born,
But not today,
So please go away,
Leave the window cracked,
Let in the breeze,
I'm desperate for it,
So would be so kind, please,
And thank you.
My room, my room, my room,
I'm not sure if I can get it from around me,
Break the boundary,
make the sound react,
a friction blast,
I can't last like this,
The whole wide world and its beady little red eyes staring down at me,
Eating away at me,
Taking the piss with me
Ripping me to shreds,
Now i'm off to bed,
I can't keep on dreaming of death songs,
Cause I just want to live here,
in my room,
A disguise in place,
Where my guise is restrained,
like a shirt hanging in my closet,
Neatly dangling there,
When i'm forced to leave,
oh yes i'm forced to leave,
I can only hope one day i'll find our room,
Where we can hang out insecurities on the walls,
Put our hopes on a shelf like little china dolls,
Breathe lightly with one another,
Feel safe and secure in a little hollow cage,
Serenity,
My room, is serenity, our room, is serenity,
Please shut off the light.
My Last Joke
For the record i'm not afraid of jokes
I just choose to avoid certain humors
That wish me ill will
It's not like i'm avoiding you
you are not my plague
You are my greatest distraction
But you just won't give me breathing space
I don't know what to do with you,
My laugh track is all bogged down in technical glitches,
And i'm ashamed at my off kilter remarks about your grandmother
This is no time for blame
just turn around and leave me be
You don't have to go out of your way to avoid me
This is not the way to behave in a civilized world,
Though i'm not sure you would care
Seeing as how you sit at the back of the club with the wild beasts
It's not the end of the line,
But the start of the dance
And i'm not too sure you should be here,
Don't you have shit to do,
Men to screw,
Who are not me,
Don't give me that shit, don't make me take your hand,
Hold you up,
Give you the coat off my shoulders,
I know whose dick has been in your mouth,
And the comedy just rolls out,
Hey I made you smile,
But you'll make him gasp,
And I can't take this boiling anymore,
Who the hell, and what the fuck do you think you are accomplishing
I'm hurt,
I'm broken,
I am trying to stay positive,
Trying to paint off my frown,
I'm all upside down,
This isn't working,
So smile for me, i like it of course I do,
But you won't let me kiss you,
or hold you,
you keep running off into hell, following demons,
And if you keep on doing this,
They'll lead you right to the devils door,
And you'll knock and you'll shout,
And even he will kick you out,
And say wake up bitch, this isn't how you should behave.
I just choose to avoid certain humors
That wish me ill will
It's not like i'm avoiding you
you are not my plague
You are my greatest distraction
But you just won't give me breathing space
I don't know what to do with you,
My laugh track is all bogged down in technical glitches,
And i'm ashamed at my off kilter remarks about your grandmother
This is no time for blame
just turn around and leave me be
You don't have to go out of your way to avoid me
This is not the way to behave in a civilized world,
Though i'm not sure you would care
Seeing as how you sit at the back of the club with the wild beasts
It's not the end of the line,
But the start of the dance
And i'm not too sure you should be here,
Don't you have shit to do,
Men to screw,
Who are not me,
Don't give me that shit, don't make me take your hand,
Hold you up,
Give you the coat off my shoulders,
I know whose dick has been in your mouth,
And the comedy just rolls out,
Hey I made you smile,
But you'll make him gasp,
And I can't take this boiling anymore,
Who the hell, and what the fuck do you think you are accomplishing
I'm hurt,
I'm broken,
I am trying to stay positive,
Trying to paint off my frown,
I'm all upside down,
This isn't working,
So smile for me, i like it of course I do,
But you won't let me kiss you,
or hold you,
you keep running off into hell, following demons,
And if you keep on doing this,
They'll lead you right to the devils door,
And you'll knock and you'll shout,
And even he will kick you out,
And say wake up bitch, this isn't how you should behave.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Passing in the Night - Short Story
Passing in the Night
A story of SIDS
(originally posted on my Myspace blog on August 3rd, 2009, I have written different variations on this story, it is for all intense and purposes as it happened, obviously dramatized, i was going on 3 at the time. Pieced together from a subconscious memory I continue to dream since it happened, and talks i've had with both of my parents.)
The baby cried as he often did, just a little, probably in his sleep, but that cry would forever haunt the parents all their lives. They would ask themselves, if I had responded and arose from my bed, and strolled just feet down the hall would my son still be alive. They would not be able to say for a certainty if it would have changed a thing, but uncertainty is a horrible thing. For that was how the night had begun.
A baby’s simple little cry in the night. They were not neglectful, on the contrary, they gave their son the utmost attention, rushed to his every inkling, took time to discover what was wrong. The little being had existed three months in this world, and sometime around two in the morning on a Valentine’s day in nineteen ninety his life left him, and he passed from this world. But it was not neglect that made them stay in their beds, it was the routine, it had happened before, a simple cry in the dark, and then he would go back to sleep, and it can only be surmised that that was what it had been. The cry in actual fact had nothing to do with the passing, but the parents continued to ponder it, to this present day.
At some point hereafter, the mother arose from her bed, responding to the cry, just in case something was wrong. What she found in the crib was a sleeping babe, but resting in sleep of the eternal. It is said God accepts all babes, for they are the innocent, perhaps that is why he takes some, to keep them from being corrupted on this earth, to save them from hardship. But tell that to the family’s, and they’ll be enraged, for why should he remove from them their joyous laughs, there cuddly faces, there wonderful gooh’s and gah’s. In their searching eyes, family’s have seen beauty in a bleek world, and when the candle fades away, and the life force gone, where is the beauty now.
A closer investigation by the mother to her infants frame, she discovered that his chest was not moving, and that his body was still. And she screamed for her husband, who came rushing at once, for it was a scream that stated the worst, and no one can ignore a scream such as this, or even understand it till they’ve known. When the man had arrived, the mom was cradling her babe, beckoning him back to liveliness, hoping that he would cry, those cry’s that they found so repetitive, how much she would give, what a sigh of relief she’d relinquish if she could just here that amazing annoyed cry of her son once more. And it is strange how we long for the things that we never thought twice of as anything grand, such as the changing of a diaper or the suckling of a bottle, and how much now were they wanted, and missed, that it was uncanny the way the world could work.
She passed the baby boy into her husband’s arms, and rushed for the telephone, and dialed out the emergency trying to sound collected and frenzied all rolled into one. And then they walked about bouncing the baby gently in folded arms, hoping in some way it would return him to them. They could not accept the worst, they could not accept this horrendous thing. And in their commotion they awoke their eldest son, and he could tell straight away that something was wrong with his littlest brother, for the other little brother was still asleep in his room, soundly sleeping while all hell broke loose.
The father and mother tried to inform in the most childish ways to the their six year old boy that his brother was resting a very long sleep, and they even tried to tell him it would be okay, and he tried to believe them, but in their faces were signs of belief that this just wasn’t so, and that he could not hold his baby brother anymore. And he wept, he cried out, tears streaming down his face, he could feel the joy escaping, he could feel the saddened future approaching, as if a sixth sense had grabbed hold of him, so he grabbed hold of his mother nightgown and clung on, hoping to hold them back from such a fate.
And then the police arrived, and the ambulance wasn’t far behind, and the police came inside and began asking questions. It was the flashing lights that awoken the soon to be three year old from his slumber. It was the lights that passed through his window, first red, and then blue, and then red once again that forced him to stand up off his bed, and rub the tired from his eyes, and walk himself down the dark hall to the fully lit living room. What he saw he did not comprehend, at first he thought maybe his mom and dad were in trouble, for he figured that was what the police had arrived there for. But when he saw his father pacing about the small trailers kitchen in a most agitated and frightful manner who knew other things were wrong. There was his big brother still clinging to their mother who was talking to the police and holding their baby brother, whom she then passed on to the paramedic, who took him outside and right out of view.
The father did his best to collect up his two sons, and to escort them out to the car, telling them that there was something wrong with the little baby boy, and that their mother was going to ride in the ambulance with him, to keep him company and to hold his hand. They a trio of male’s jumped into their rickety little car, and drove as fast as they could to keep up with the ambulance as it raced through the Ravenna country side to the hospital miles away in the next town.
Inside the speeding emergency vehicle, the mother held her baby Jordan’s hand, and would not take her eyes off of him, repeating to him, hoping his ears could hear her, “Jordy, Jordy.” And she continued again, it is unclear if she said it the whole way there but it was absolutely not beyond possibility, for hope continues on, it fights, and hope can hope that a familiar voice saying a familiar word can pull back life from beyond. And maybe it can, but tonight it couldn’t, and somewhere inside the mother knew it was done, but her motherly compassion couldn’t let it be so, and so she continued to mutter, “Jordy Jordy,” to her little infant son.
In the hospital they sat and they waited, it may have only been minutes but it had felt like hours and hours, they waited for inevitable news, and when the doctor came out he gave it to them straight, and the father yelled out a fierce unnerving cry, and burst into sobs, crying the cry of the broken hearted, a cry that cursed at God, a cry that wanted an answer that would never come, no matter how hard the cry questioned. The doctor told them they could hold him if they wanted, just one last time. The father could not do it, he couldn’t take the finalization of it all, and he somehow believed even if he wasn’t thinking it consciously that if he kept his eyes from his lifeless son, and his hands off his cold body that it couldn’t be true.
But the mother had to hold him, it was instinct inside, and instinct brought on from love, and compassion, and from carrying him in her womb. No one can understand the power of a good mother’s love, not even this narrator can fully comprehend. The love was not gone yet, and maybe she was in shock, but she held him as delicately as she had ever done, and kissed his forehead like she often did. And she stood there rocking him as if nothing were wrong. And she still loved her little son, she loved him so much, too much in fact, her shock was so great that she couldn’t even cry, because her love was grand. At one point though, after holding him sometime, she had to hand him back to the doctor telling him, “he’s turning blue.”
It was the worst night of their lives, and was not likely to be replaced.
There were no answers for what had happened, only questions, and unnecessary blame. Blame from one side, and blame from another. Doctors throwing out answers that they did not know for sure. What caused the passing of this beautiful child, no one really knows, but he was not the only one with this mysterious passing, in the world there were hundred more. SIDS was what they called it, the bastard took many lives, and left many family’s broken and unsure. Left many family’s wondering if they were the causes of it. It made them ask themselves should I have laid them a certain way, had I killed my? And the answer was never to clear, and so some would say yes. But in truth every which way a baby had been laid was reported as still producing a victim to SIDS, so it’s not fair to say someone should have done something some way, because who really knows; neither you nor you or I.
I’m writing this because I wanted to. I’m writing this because I needed to. This is about the night my brother Jordan died, I am the middle son. And it may be sad and it may depress you, I don’t care, that’s your problem. It’s affected my family and I, to this very day, and it is a horrible thing. Perhaps it has shaped me into what I am now, but I am not afraid to say I wish my little brother was here, I wish he was here growing up the same as you and me.
He would have been twenty-one October 26th.
A story of SIDS
(originally posted on my Myspace blog on August 3rd, 2009, I have written different variations on this story, it is for all intense and purposes as it happened, obviously dramatized, i was going on 3 at the time. Pieced together from a subconscious memory I continue to dream since it happened, and talks i've had with both of my parents.)
The baby cried as he often did, just a little, probably in his sleep, but that cry would forever haunt the parents all their lives. They would ask themselves, if I had responded and arose from my bed, and strolled just feet down the hall would my son still be alive. They would not be able to say for a certainty if it would have changed a thing, but uncertainty is a horrible thing. For that was how the night had begun.
A baby’s simple little cry in the night. They were not neglectful, on the contrary, they gave their son the utmost attention, rushed to his every inkling, took time to discover what was wrong. The little being had existed three months in this world, and sometime around two in the morning on a Valentine’s day in nineteen ninety his life left him, and he passed from this world. But it was not neglect that made them stay in their beds, it was the routine, it had happened before, a simple cry in the dark, and then he would go back to sleep, and it can only be surmised that that was what it had been. The cry in actual fact had nothing to do with the passing, but the parents continued to ponder it, to this present day.
At some point hereafter, the mother arose from her bed, responding to the cry, just in case something was wrong. What she found in the crib was a sleeping babe, but resting in sleep of the eternal. It is said God accepts all babes, for they are the innocent, perhaps that is why he takes some, to keep them from being corrupted on this earth, to save them from hardship. But tell that to the family’s, and they’ll be enraged, for why should he remove from them their joyous laughs, there cuddly faces, there wonderful gooh’s and gah’s. In their searching eyes, family’s have seen beauty in a bleek world, and when the candle fades away, and the life force gone, where is the beauty now.
A closer investigation by the mother to her infants frame, she discovered that his chest was not moving, and that his body was still. And she screamed for her husband, who came rushing at once, for it was a scream that stated the worst, and no one can ignore a scream such as this, or even understand it till they’ve known. When the man had arrived, the mom was cradling her babe, beckoning him back to liveliness, hoping that he would cry, those cry’s that they found so repetitive, how much she would give, what a sigh of relief she’d relinquish if she could just here that amazing annoyed cry of her son once more. And it is strange how we long for the things that we never thought twice of as anything grand, such as the changing of a diaper or the suckling of a bottle, and how much now were they wanted, and missed, that it was uncanny the way the world could work.
She passed the baby boy into her husband’s arms, and rushed for the telephone, and dialed out the emergency trying to sound collected and frenzied all rolled into one. And then they walked about bouncing the baby gently in folded arms, hoping in some way it would return him to them. They could not accept the worst, they could not accept this horrendous thing. And in their commotion they awoke their eldest son, and he could tell straight away that something was wrong with his littlest brother, for the other little brother was still asleep in his room, soundly sleeping while all hell broke loose.
The father and mother tried to inform in the most childish ways to the their six year old boy that his brother was resting a very long sleep, and they even tried to tell him it would be okay, and he tried to believe them, but in their faces were signs of belief that this just wasn’t so, and that he could not hold his baby brother anymore. And he wept, he cried out, tears streaming down his face, he could feel the joy escaping, he could feel the saddened future approaching, as if a sixth sense had grabbed hold of him, so he grabbed hold of his mother nightgown and clung on, hoping to hold them back from such a fate.
And then the police arrived, and the ambulance wasn’t far behind, and the police came inside and began asking questions. It was the flashing lights that awoken the soon to be three year old from his slumber. It was the lights that passed through his window, first red, and then blue, and then red once again that forced him to stand up off his bed, and rub the tired from his eyes, and walk himself down the dark hall to the fully lit living room. What he saw he did not comprehend, at first he thought maybe his mom and dad were in trouble, for he figured that was what the police had arrived there for. But when he saw his father pacing about the small trailers kitchen in a most agitated and frightful manner who knew other things were wrong. There was his big brother still clinging to their mother who was talking to the police and holding their baby brother, whom she then passed on to the paramedic, who took him outside and right out of view.
The father did his best to collect up his two sons, and to escort them out to the car, telling them that there was something wrong with the little baby boy, and that their mother was going to ride in the ambulance with him, to keep him company and to hold his hand. They a trio of male’s jumped into their rickety little car, and drove as fast as they could to keep up with the ambulance as it raced through the Ravenna country side to the hospital miles away in the next town.
Inside the speeding emergency vehicle, the mother held her baby Jordan’s hand, and would not take her eyes off of him, repeating to him, hoping his ears could hear her, “Jordy, Jordy.” And she continued again, it is unclear if she said it the whole way there but it was absolutely not beyond possibility, for hope continues on, it fights, and hope can hope that a familiar voice saying a familiar word can pull back life from beyond. And maybe it can, but tonight it couldn’t, and somewhere inside the mother knew it was done, but her motherly compassion couldn’t let it be so, and so she continued to mutter, “Jordy Jordy,” to her little infant son.
In the hospital they sat and they waited, it may have only been minutes but it had felt like hours and hours, they waited for inevitable news, and when the doctor came out he gave it to them straight, and the father yelled out a fierce unnerving cry, and burst into sobs, crying the cry of the broken hearted, a cry that cursed at God, a cry that wanted an answer that would never come, no matter how hard the cry questioned. The doctor told them they could hold him if they wanted, just one last time. The father could not do it, he couldn’t take the finalization of it all, and he somehow believed even if he wasn’t thinking it consciously that if he kept his eyes from his lifeless son, and his hands off his cold body that it couldn’t be true.
But the mother had to hold him, it was instinct inside, and instinct brought on from love, and compassion, and from carrying him in her womb. No one can understand the power of a good mother’s love, not even this narrator can fully comprehend. The love was not gone yet, and maybe she was in shock, but she held him as delicately as she had ever done, and kissed his forehead like she often did. And she stood there rocking him as if nothing were wrong. And she still loved her little son, she loved him so much, too much in fact, her shock was so great that she couldn’t even cry, because her love was grand. At one point though, after holding him sometime, she had to hand him back to the doctor telling him, “he’s turning blue.”
It was the worst night of their lives, and was not likely to be replaced.
There were no answers for what had happened, only questions, and unnecessary blame. Blame from one side, and blame from another. Doctors throwing out answers that they did not know for sure. What caused the passing of this beautiful child, no one really knows, but he was not the only one with this mysterious passing, in the world there were hundred more. SIDS was what they called it, the bastard took many lives, and left many family’s broken and unsure. Left many family’s wondering if they were the causes of it. It made them ask themselves should I have laid them a certain way, had I killed my? And the answer was never to clear, and so some would say yes. But in truth every which way a baby had been laid was reported as still producing a victim to SIDS, so it’s not fair to say someone should have done something some way, because who really knows; neither you nor you or I.
I’m writing this because I wanted to. I’m writing this because I needed to. This is about the night my brother Jordan died, I am the middle son. And it may be sad and it may depress you, I don’t care, that’s your problem. It’s affected my family and I, to this very day, and it is a horrible thing. Perhaps it has shaped me into what I am now, but I am not afraid to say I wish my little brother was here, I wish he was here growing up the same as you and me.
He would have been twenty-one October 26th.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Once Upon a Time on Myspace September 14th, 2009
Osmosis
when you foster pain
you get pain
its there
you have it to regain
nothing you do
if its always in pain
will ever be different
you reap
you sow
you gain pain, again
its unavoidable,
and it seems obvious
but the cataclysmic meltdown
you will sustain
is nothing more than pain
what you wanted
you lost
by your own hands
and you've brought yourself here
so why ponder on pain
why put yourself through it again
its only going to continue
a cycle of viciousness
aimed at yourself
and perpatrated the same
there is a light at the end of the tunnel
but if your sitting in the smog
you won't make it
walk
better yet
run
pain is still there sure
but there are other things
and the pain you feel
may not be pain to others
your life is fragile
why live like chipped glass
smile
be bright
the sun may shine through you
be in you
design your future
a light
beyond the tunnel
and you'll live much better
and you won't remmeber pain
as the clouds part
when you foster pain
you get pain
its there
you have it to regain
nothing you do
if its always in pain
will ever be different
you reap
you sow
you gain pain, again
its unavoidable,
and it seems obvious
but the cataclysmic meltdown
you will sustain
is nothing more than pain
what you wanted
you lost
by your own hands
and you've brought yourself here
so why ponder on pain
why put yourself through it again
its only going to continue
a cycle of viciousness
aimed at yourself
and perpatrated the same
there is a light at the end of the tunnel
but if your sitting in the smog
you won't make it
walk
better yet
run
pain is still there sure
but there are other things
and the pain you feel
may not be pain to others
your life is fragile
why live like chipped glass
smile
be bright
the sun may shine through you
be in you
design your future
a light
beyond the tunnel
and you'll live much better
and you won't remmeber pain
as the clouds part
Once Upon a Time on Myspace September 16th, 2009
Glass Clothes
a cloud in the sky descending on the masses
coating them in glass
not in harm
not in vice
but in simple protection
a covering against the rain
the breath
but a fragile protection
easily shattered by the chuck of a rock
the snap of a pipe
it is not unbreakable
but it lets us see
we can still hear
but others do not like it
they forge out of their hands
steal cloaks
that cover there eyes
it blocks the insights
it blocks the feelings
it blocks the outlooks
of everyone else,
it makes you hard
you can only hear the faint sounds of the gentle voices
garbled into something nasty
you are impenetrable
and destructive
the weight it puts on your shoulders
makes you crash down and push through the glass covered masses,
and you break them
you destroy them
and they are fearful to ever come out on a hail strewn night again
this is the end
the end of momentum
the end of progress
we all sit in our caves,
or behind our coverings,
and we lie,
and we cry
and we die,
and we never really experience the joys life has to offer,
all because we couldn't keep from breaking the glass,
the fragile glass
that blocked out the rain.
a cloud in the sky descending on the masses
coating them in glass
not in harm
not in vice
but in simple protection
a covering against the rain
the breath
but a fragile protection
easily shattered by the chuck of a rock
the snap of a pipe
it is not unbreakable
but it lets us see
we can still hear
but others do not like it
they forge out of their hands
steal cloaks
that cover there eyes
it blocks the insights
it blocks the feelings
it blocks the outlooks
of everyone else,
it makes you hard
you can only hear the faint sounds of the gentle voices
garbled into something nasty
you are impenetrable
and destructive
the weight it puts on your shoulders
makes you crash down and push through the glass covered masses,
and you break them
you destroy them
and they are fearful to ever come out on a hail strewn night again
this is the end
the end of momentum
the end of progress
we all sit in our caves,
or behind our coverings,
and we lie,
and we cry
and we die,
and we never really experience the joys life has to offer,
all because we couldn't keep from breaking the glass,
the fragile glass
that blocked out the rain.
Once Upon a Time on Myspace September 18th, 2009
Reflections on a Spinning Plate:
a lone star feeling of servitude to the fellow man
who spits in your tea
and licks your palm to disgust you and give you disease
the pathetic son of a pathetic father
who doesn't understand the human condition
blasted by the masses
for being to encompassed in compassion
a bold mistake in the mere flakes of snow falling down
you are nothing but cold
and the laser light show has been reserved for nothing
catastrophe is bittersweet
pushing you down and pulling you out
what is it then that lets me sit in turmoil
who spits in your tea
and licks your palm to disgust you and give you disease
the pathetic son of a pathetic father
who doesn't understand the human condition
blasted by the masses
for being to encompassed in compassion
a bold mistake in the mere flakes of snow falling down
you are nothing but cold
and the laser light show has been reserved for nothing
catastrophe is bittersweet
pushing you down and pulling you out
what is it then that lets me sit in turmoil
under the stars dreaming i am happy
feeling it to
in this last indignation of morose ideals
pitted under my cleated feet
the time may come
when the grass is torn from the earth
and fire prevails where water once flourished
and the rivers don't run
but collide into nothingness
against jagged stones of lava rock
do not begrudge me a grim outlook
it is not for me to say what isn't said
the time may come when you understand these words,
and until then you will see me as depressive
but the answer is as clear as ice
and gone just as quickly in a desert sun
once removed from the cooler
i am optimistically stupid
and naive thoughts serve to better me
i am a child trapped in an aging body of flab
and failure may follow me around
but i choose to look on some brighter plane
and when you decide to finally spit on me
and lick my palms
to give me diseases,
i will take them
i will wipe them, and die
and i will try to find a guided light
shrouded in what you supposed was misery with me
Once Upon a Time on Myspace September 23rd, 2009
Bitter Growth
a radiated bill of fifty or more
stashed under the bed
for ghosts to find out
taken from hell
and plated with glitter
it woo's the eye of the beholder
poisoned and crass
those pains in the ass
will seek for what they can
those pale man
in nice suits
grated through the brain
chiseled to be monuments of power
taken from nothing
and given for something
the heart of the poor man
goes on through the hoop
tight assed monothestic manners
grip the hair of the girl
as she takes her cash
and tries to run from the end
of the world to beyond
granted its nothing so much for the world
to finally find some place to define as normal
this is the end of the world
and nothing so much as conscious behavior is
disintergrated,,
a gross indecent man
has radiated his hands
and is found out by the powers that be
ghosts consume him
and spit him into enternal fire
and the children cry for the means to survive
was thrown down with him
consumed into nothing
not even ash
bitten by the vampiric bat
they have to pretend in pale skin
to wear suits,
only to become what the game was
a radiated bill of fifty or more
stashed under the bed
for ghosts to find out
taken from hell
and plated with glitter
it woo's the eye of the beholder
poisoned and crass
those pains in the ass
will seek for what they can
those pale man
in nice suits
grated through the brain
chiseled to be monuments of power
taken from nothing
and given for something
the heart of the poor man
goes on through the hoop
tight assed monothestic manners
grip the hair of the girl
as she takes her cash
and tries to run from the end
of the world to beyond
granted its nothing so much for the world
to finally find some place to define as normal
this is the end of the world
and nothing so much as conscious behavior is
disintergrated,,
a gross indecent man
has radiated his hands
and is found out by the powers that be
ghosts consume him
and spit him into enternal fire
and the children cry for the means to survive
was thrown down with him
consumed into nothing
not even ash
bitten by the vampiric bat
they have to pretend in pale skin
to wear suits,
only to become what the game was
Once Upon a Time on Myspace October 3rd, 2009
A Grotesque View of My Naive Soul
when you look at me
when you speak to me
when i feel the warmth in those
i can feel a warmth inside
and tons of fleas go biting my flesh
and i am tingling with irritation
because the butterflies are fluttering
and the wasps are buzzing
and cockroaches won't get stamped out
im bugging out
my wounds are deep
it festers grossly
beetles and such
go on burrowing in
poisoning my cynicism with hopefulness
and then i begin dying in hope
i go diving into a pit of joys
and hoping somewhere ill be caught
otherwise i fall right through the hole
and from the sky
and onto a termite mound once again
insecticide is a beautiful thing
i got the bug
the disease
im looking ont he brighter future
while the flu sets in
the worms eat my lies
they feast on my fears
and there is something out there that i can reach
and in the mean time it hurts
just waiting for the small to distinguish the big
and soon my core will be exposed
and the virus will attach
and ill be a smiling fool
gleaming like a diamond
watered down by projectile vomit
from the mucus of the maggot
newobrn inside
im alive
once again
back to the earths innards
i have found a perfection
i must wait for it to get eatin too.
when you look at me
when you speak to me
when i feel the warmth in those
i can feel a warmth inside
and tons of fleas go biting my flesh
and i am tingling with irritation
because the butterflies are fluttering
and the wasps are buzzing
and cockroaches won't get stamped out
im bugging out
my wounds are deep
it festers grossly
beetles and such
go on burrowing in
poisoning my cynicism with hopefulness
and then i begin dying in hope
i go diving into a pit of joys
and hoping somewhere ill be caught
otherwise i fall right through the hole
and from the sky
and onto a termite mound once again
insecticide is a beautiful thing
i got the bug
the disease
im looking ont he brighter future
while the flu sets in
the worms eat my lies
they feast on my fears
and there is something out there that i can reach
and in the mean time it hurts
just waiting for the small to distinguish the big
and soon my core will be exposed
and the virus will attach
and ill be a smiling fool
gleaming like a diamond
watered down by projectile vomit
from the mucus of the maggot
newobrn inside
im alive
once again
back to the earths innards
i have found a perfection
i must wait for it to get eatin too.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Sighs of Optimism
No, you misunderstood them,
You couldn't fathom their complexity,
but love is not so hard to decipher, when we take it as we should,
The forever happiness we've longed for,
Something to smile over,
As your shot and bleeding out all over,
love would make you feel like this was alright,
you've finally reached the benchmark of your existance,
Of course you'd be sad to be removed from your love,
But in truth your love became innate,
So in your final hours,
love is transfixed behind your eyes,
you see everything through rose glasses,
and you know the beauty of it all,
you are bitter to lose the touch, the sight, the sound, the taste, the smell,
But somewhere in side you've kept all photographed,
Ingrained on your mind,
And you happily content with your choices,
Will smile onwards,
Tho of course for the purest lover, that is the worst case scenario,
Best case scenario, if we want to be a little more bright,
And not lost in lovely shadow,
In broad daylight, amongst the happiest of bumblebees,
You find this pure ecstacy that warrants an embrace,
you bubble over with foam,
You are home,
in this place you are home,
and its like nothing you've ever felt before,
But what about when its gone?
What about when you have to move on?
You can remember the good times,
The great times,
Until a new love comes to you,
They are not interchangeable,
and the new may come with some glitches or upgrades,
Its just an update of your software,
And this love too,
Will make you feel wonderful,
And brand new.
You couldn't fathom their complexity,
but love is not so hard to decipher, when we take it as we should,
The forever happiness we've longed for,
Something to smile over,
As your shot and bleeding out all over,
love would make you feel like this was alright,
you've finally reached the benchmark of your existance,
Of course you'd be sad to be removed from your love,
But in truth your love became innate,
So in your final hours,
love is transfixed behind your eyes,
you see everything through rose glasses,
and you know the beauty of it all,
you are bitter to lose the touch, the sight, the sound, the taste, the smell,
But somewhere in side you've kept all photographed,
Ingrained on your mind,
And you happily content with your choices,
Will smile onwards,
Tho of course for the purest lover, that is the worst case scenario,
Best case scenario, if we want to be a little more bright,
And not lost in lovely shadow,
In broad daylight, amongst the happiest of bumblebees,
You find this pure ecstacy that warrants an embrace,
you bubble over with foam,
You are home,
in this place you are home,
and its like nothing you've ever felt before,
But what about when its gone?
What about when you have to move on?
You can remember the good times,
The great times,
Until a new love comes to you,
They are not interchangeable,
and the new may come with some glitches or upgrades,
Its just an update of your software,
And this love too,
Will make you feel wonderful,
And brand new.
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: October 9th, 2009
Inwards:
A silent voice rings out from within
and no one can hear it
but the inner ear of those whom it passes
The inner ear then passes it on to the silent voice
and the cycle goes on and on
and pretty much we learn so much
but are never aware that its there
until we are dying
and we think our life was wasted
but the inner ear
and the silent voice
were happy they got to taste it.
A silent voice rings out from within
and no one can hear it
but the inner ear of those whom it passes
The inner ear then passes it on to the silent voice
and the cycle goes on and on
and pretty much we learn so much
but are never aware that its there
until we are dying
and we think our life was wasted
but the inner ear
and the silent voice
were happy they got to taste it.
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: October 21st, 2009
Paralyzed Optimist:
a broken piece of flabbergasted man
entrails sprawled out in a circle
eating sausages and crumbs
from the bread that was made by his mum
and nothing ever made less sense
he is cataclysmic in his archery
an archnemesis of himself
slinging arrows that fly off without care
and dissection that prevails nowhere
this in fact is his swan song
bleeding out in most obvious ways
obviously lead to death
its not absurdity
To see inside
and to feel it on the outside
to notice the pathos of a wounded soul
with wounded body
eating the dead flesh of another creature
created by god but mutilated by man
this is the last resort of the priest to teach
and his tact is lost
on the man savage in nature
still flabbergasted by his distinction of being the first
silent dead
alive in his spit
and castrated through deceit
you neutured his soul
and spewed out his entrails
and arranged them in a pretty pattern
circular heap of wounded disgust
he can't stand up without falling
and he can't fall without first standing
and so he sits eating sausages
kissing frogs
and licking up lollipops that smell like astroid rock
and you can't tell him
or me that this doesn't make sense
when chaos ensues what sense can be had anyhow
go ahead prey on him
he won't defend himself
if he could have ended it long ago he would have
but he's been at war for so long
a war with himself
you can't expect the air to change
a musk hangs over all
and he and them and all of us
inhale it
and wait till the day we'll burst
and pray the vultures will pick us off
while still craving sustanance to go on living it
it being the life we think we had
go ahead.
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: October 29th, 2009
I Remember Dreaming Once:
a glass house
with marshmallow pillows
and cardboard furniture
Where I sleep
and where I die
Codes for names
and lies for limes
Christmas trees inside the attic
collecting dust
mistaken for disgust
we sleep
and we die
in dreaming liveliness
wonderful smells
cotton candy feathers
cold sweats
monitored by lighting flashes
china plates
and crimson gates
boa constrict my toes
i sleep with light
wake up with dark
and find a whole hope digested
i can't remember
a glass house
with marshmallow pillows
and cardboard furniture
growing up
can feel painful
cause you will only make it so far
if you make it anywhere
cold menace
menacing peelings of bananas
candy canes
peppermint sprinkles
minty chocolate chip
ice cream flavors
cool monkey
precious stones that never make it more
than what it was
a glass house
a glass heart
a glass shell
all that shatters at once
in awakened dreaming
on marshmallow pillows
on marshamallow smiles
all that fluff at once
and the cardboard
that burns so fast
to fast to sleep on
to fast to sit on
to fast to live on
and no one cares to stop by
to put the fire out
and it burns on and on and on
why??
a glass house
with marshmallow pillows
and cardboard furniture
Where I sleep
and where I die
Codes for names
and lies for limes
Christmas trees inside the attic
collecting dust
mistaken for disgust
we sleep
and we die
in dreaming liveliness
wonderful smells
cotton candy feathers
cold sweats
monitored by lighting flashes
china plates
and crimson gates
boa constrict my toes
i sleep with light
wake up with dark
and find a whole hope digested
i can't remember
a glass house
with marshmallow pillows
and cardboard furniture
growing up
can feel painful
cause you will only make it so far
if you make it anywhere
cold menace
menacing peelings of bananas
candy canes
peppermint sprinkles
minty chocolate chip
ice cream flavors
cool monkey
precious stones that never make it more
than what it was
a glass house
a glass heart
a glass shell
all that shatters at once
in awakened dreaming
on marshmallow pillows
on marshamallow smiles
all that fluff at once
and the cardboard
that burns so fast
to fast to sleep on
to fast to sit on
to fast to live on
and no one cares to stop by
to put the fire out
and it burns on and on and on
why??
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: December 5th, 2009
Sex Life of a Fool:
I never wanted to pretend that this was going to go anywhere else, but I couldn’t help myself. When someone offers me kind words, since they are so few and far between I eat them up, craving the sustenance of recognition, of support, of feeling, caring, all of those things that make you feel linked in chains to everyone around you. But maybe no one is linked, maybe we are all just floating silently and alone, we all have our ways we really feel, but because of how we think we are suppose to act to people, with this fake decency we lose our individual drives, we delude ourselves into thinking that to connect we have to conform. We have to sit and laugh at the things we don’t find funny, we have to sit and nod to the things we don’t agree with, and use the words we don’t want, and like the people we don’t want. We always have to put on fake grins, and use polite words. Even those people who claim they are honest and blunt, are they? No, in some ways they have a persona too, they think this is how people want to see them, even their feelings are hidden under their icy exteriors, but those are not the people I have problems with. The People I have problems with are the ones like Allison, the ones that sit there on this throne of politeness and fun, and intellect, who are none of the above, inside they are as judgmental, lame, and stupid as the next person. You can see it in the hunger of one’s mind, the eclectic words they use, and the vocabulary is essential, how do they describe what they’ve seen to the people around them. There are ways in which we react that we don’t manifest for fear of judgment, a movie for instance, if it touched you sometimes you can’t say that, so you simplify it, you say oh it was funny, oh it was cool, oh it was thrilling, those may be true, but if you really mean powerful, life-affirming, bad-ass, thrilling, touching, that it pulled at your heart strings, then why the hell don’t you just say it? I’ll tell you why you are hiding; you are hiding in your own image. It starts when you are a child, it forms with the people who grow to be your friends, and if you have few friends all your life, then god help you, because you will have only known the way you express things, and if you are only expressing them to yourself well then that audience is the purest and can’t judge you, so you are free to say whatever the fuck you want. Maybe I’m being unfair, maybe people aren’t really dumb, and I never meant dumb in the academic terms, some of the most ignorant people I know are the ones earning the degrees more often than not statistically of course it’s the ones who are not educating themselves on a daily basis that are dying away. But I digress, what was this rants purpose really, I can’t really say, but the world is this stage, and we the players, to misquote Shakespeare. I just want to know when nice became mean, and mean became kindness. Those fakes, those blunt fakes are some of the nicest people I’ve met, they don’t want to see you, they will tell you, they don’t like something they will tell you, even if you don’t like it. But those nice masses, those annoying nice people, myself included from time to time, will look you in the eye and lie to your face with a smile, pretending somewhere deep inside, that they are not jerks, but aren’t they jerks? Yes. There’s nothing worse than sustained silence broken by a beautiful voice saying beautiful words of how you should spend more time together, how you should do this and this and this, and you come alive, I came alive, I felt like someone wanted me. Then the next time you speak it has changed yet again, they barely say anything all emotion, all want is gone, and then you sit in that silence and you delude yourself into thinking maybe maybe maybe all the rest of your time. I will wise up one day I’m sure, but I never expected anything to come from Allison. It was in the midst of another silence when it happened.
Allison’s voice came over the receiver, “what are you doing tonight?” I was stunned I hadn’t heard from her in three weeks, except passing her in the college halls, and now she was calling me asking what my schedule looked like this evening. At first I wanted to yell at the bitch, I wanted to yell at her indifference for the past few weeks, but then what would that have accomplished, all she would say was that she had been busy with this, and busy with that, when I knew for a fact that she wasn’t busy at all. And why would I do that, when even though I was irritated I still had that naïve feeling of hope buried inside, that when someone contacted you out of the blue they wanted you specifically, they could have called anyone, but they called you.
So what did I say, I said, “nothing. Why?” And then I waited for her to ask if I wanted to hang out with her tonight, perhaps go to the beach, or to a movie, playing hop scotch in the elementary school yard, I could give a shit, as long as I was around her.
“Well I wanted to know if you wanted to see that new romantic comedy that came out, that one that everyone’s been talking about?” she said, and in my mind I was like yes I will go see that overly popular fad of a film that I’m sure will be a piece of shit, but yes, I’ll see It even though it’ll not only be a waste of two hours of my life, but a waste of eight dollars and twenty five cents of the very little cash I have, yes I will go see it even though I will complain about it to my friends, even though I know I’ll lie to you afterwards and tell you it was good, yes I’ll go do anything you want to do as long as I’m with you.
“Yeah sure, I thought about seeing it, my curiosity was kind of pushing me to finally check it out, even though it’s a chick flick of the highest order, not that I don’t like chick flicks, some of my favorite movies are chick flicks, Pride and Prejudice for instance, and I liked like Moulin Rouge, and all that stuff. I mean,” I was digging myself into a hole, yapping on and on about this obscure thing and that, I never knew how to shut myself up, when you got me talking about movies. I could go on all day and gladly would if someone cared to listen, but in this instance, I had to pretend it was dumb of me to be talking so lively about them, “oh sorry, they are just movies. I do that sometimes.”
“You sure do,” she says with a laugh. I didn’t understand that laugh, I mean I knew she was laughing at the fact that I talked so much about them and ranted, but for some reason I don’t know if it was in thinking it was a cute thing to do, or just stupid of me to just continue talking like that. I wanted to assume that it might have been kind of cute. “So how about you pick me up at my house tonight at five and we’ll go see the movie at eight.”
That was three hours in-between. “There’s three hours in-between that.” I said.
She laughed again, “Well we want to have plenty of time to have dinner and talk before we go, I’ve been putting off eating all day for tonight.”
Great I thought food too. It wasn’t so bad that we were going to get food, it was just that this had happened before, two or three times, and it was very casual for her, she didn’t think of it as anything but I wanted to think of it as something, but how could I, if it wasn’t I would feel like the biggest loser. So then I tried to think of it as just friends, but that’s futile when some people you don’t simply want to be friends with, and if they know this fact, and they ask you to hang out with no care to the fact, the last thing they want to be is simply your friend, then isn’t that kind of low, wouldn’t it be nicer just to say you know what I don’t’ like you. You don’t have money, you don’t have looks, you don’t have personality, you don’t have charm, you are boring, lame, anything, in those situations those words would be nicer than letting them live the delusions just because you are bored and want someone to hang out with. And then shelling out money for cash, particularly at a nice restaurant well that’s just a pain in the ass, and will put quite a big hole in your pocket, and I was personally prepared to spend as much money as possible if it was going to go somewhere. I always was, and here I was ready to do it again. “Oh cool where do you want to go?”
“The Oriental Palace”
At least she wanted Chinese. I could shell out a ton of money for Chinese no problem.
But was this the same old run around as before, I had to know. “So is this a date?”
“I don’t know.”
The most common answer. I don’t know. How the fuck don’t you know, honestly, where the hell do you get off telling someone who is ready to jump for you, that you don’t know if it’s a date or not, was it originally one, was it not? Isn’t that simple enough to figure the fuck out. Apparently not, apparently it was very complex. Apparently Allison couldn’t decipher her feelings like I could, apparently the whole feelings thing was invisible to her, maybe she didn’t know what a date was, and maybe she was numb in the brain. Maybe in her guise as the sweet, she had gotten stuck in her honey and now realized she had set up a problem area, that proposing dinner and a movie could be interpreted this way, she was buzzing with fear, maybe. Or maybe she was just to plain nice to say; no it is not a date, just as friends.
“Oh.” Is what I said. And then she jumped in, “so tonight at 5 right? You’ll pick me up?
“Yeah sure.”
“Alright well I got to get some stuff done around the house I’ll see ya then.” And just like that she hung up.
Why was it like that? Why was it when you asked the core question, the question that they know is buried there, why is it when you get into the feelings, they jump ship, why is there always something to do at that time: A paper to write, shopping to do, cleaning, and on and on, why is there always something to do when I am most looking for answers. I suppose no one can really give that answer right? You are to busy paying your bills, to busy mowing the lawn, to busy drinking whiskey, to busy living, to worry about the answers to the question I am posing, I would say I was busy too, but I’m not.
So five roles around, and I go and pick her up, she’s wearing her winter coat, and a nice pair of jeans that give her ass a nice plump firmness, in the best most sexual way possible, in the way that I can’t help but checking out, and she sits in the car, and we drive off to the Oriental Palace. On the way there we talk about homework, we talk about professors, about books, and movies and films, we even sing along to a song on the radio. Then we get to where we are going, we get our food and we eat and we talk and talk about obscure things, about how she’s worried about her future, to which I reply that know one can really know what it is going to happen, and fear is only going to push through our lives, and the best thing to do is to find distractions, and by distractions I’m talking about finding solace in me, it’s very much a wink wink, hint hint type of thing, and I’m being so obvious I know she knows what I’m talking about, but she pretends she doesn’t. And when we are finished eating, we decide to drive to the book store, and we do and we look at everything we can, there is still thirty minutes to kill before the movie starts, and then suddenly out of the blue she says, “do you really want to go to the movie?”
“Don’t you?” I ask, I don’t want to be put into a trap here.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“yeah.” That’s it, that is all she says about it, one word, I’m looking for an answer to what she means and she just says yeah, apparently she’s looking to me to finally say that yeah I would rather not go. But I’m not going to say that.
“Well, what do you want to do instead?” I say.
“Let’s go to your place, watch a movie there, I don’t feel like being out.
So of course I say that’s fine. So we go to my house, we watch movies, we sit there and silence and watch a musical, then we watch comedy, and then we talk about our favorite musicals, and then she says she’s tired and its about time for her to get home and get some sleep. I think okay, sure. So we leave I drive her back home, drop her off, and then I never here from her again for a month, she calls and asks me, “what are you doing tonight?”
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: January 8th, 2010
I Fell Into a Vat of Ice Cream:
I feel into a vat of ice cream
of mint chocolate chip
and strawberry swirl
algae filled gobs of scrumptioius delight
much like my disgust
born in the waters around this place
gross green globs
my whole life
held together by the glue of the lakes
and not even as sweet
i fell into a vat of false hoods
of lost souls
and broken tools
a wind pipe punctuared by ink pens
i can't breathe with the writing on my soul
what have i done
what have you done
this wasn't so hard
to taste and treat
and trick and puke
and lie
and lie
and lie,
nonsense words in soliloqui
I feel into a vat of ice cream
of mint chocolate chip
and strawberry swirl
algae filled gobs of scrumptioius delight
much like my disgust
born in the waters around this place
gross green globs
my whole life
held together by the glue of the lakes
and not even as sweet
i fell into a vat of false hoods
of lost souls
and broken tools
a wind pipe punctuared by ink pens
i can't breathe with the writing on my soul
what have i done
what have you done
this wasn't so hard
to taste and treat
and trick and puke
and lie
and lie
and lie,
nonsense words in soliloqui
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: February 14th, 2010
Rainbow:
I remember your eyes
the way they peered into my soul
I felt a fire burning there
I could turn my face to the sky
But you were imprinted on my sight
A disgusting face of beauty
Why are you still there.
I want you more than ever,
but I know this is stupid,
Perhaps it will repeat itself,
this ravished flesh of insanity,
this gloom and doom
this total destruction
laid on me by the miniscule flesh
No one can be left alone to this device
your heavenly voice
it lifts me to an oblivion
i'm fading
fading fast
please, i plead with you to stay
let this moment stay
let the rains come down
and let it flood
keep the doors and windows shield shut
i want to drown in you
inside your love
look at me
my eyes are lost in you
my ears are lost in you
I remember your eyes
the way they peered into my soul
I felt a fire burning there
I could turn my face to the sky
But you were imprinted on my sight
A disgusting face of beauty
Why are you still there.
I want you more than ever,
but I know this is stupid,
Perhaps it will repeat itself,
this ravished flesh of insanity,
this gloom and doom
this total destruction
laid on me by the miniscule flesh
No one can be left alone to this device
your heavenly voice
it lifts me to an oblivion
i'm fading
fading fast
please, i plead with you to stay
let this moment stay
let the rains come down
and let it flood
keep the doors and windows shield shut
i want to drown in you
inside your love
look at me
my eyes are lost in you
my ears are lost in you
Once Upon a Time on Myspace: September 25th, 2010.
I'm Still Breathing:
Maybe it seems like a lost cause because there was nothing to save in the first place
Maybe it seems like a lost cause because there was nothing to save in the first place
You go marching into harms way with the intention of liberation,
And yet there is no one to be saved,
No lives to lead on into a better tomorrow,
Only the cynical tyranny that reigns in the minds and will not let them stand,
So we crawl,
Our fingers gripping the earth, pulling ourselves out into the clouded plains,
Out of the smog of city streets,
Our minds beginning to breathe easy,
But still you have to go to back, we have to retrace our steps,
This is not an unkindness,
We can’t all smile, not all the time, and though many of us are frowning,
We can’t be stuck like this,
We can see some light, sunlight, moon beams that don’t fade behind sheets of metal,
Though you walk on eggshells,
And they crack and shatter under your bear feet,
As they cut in like shards of glass we do not feel it, we know the truths,
They may tell us to scream,
We won’t,
They may tell us the sky is falling,
It’s not,
Don’t any of you remember dreaming, and as its shrinking don’t you remember the grief,
Don’t you remember it, anyone, all those thoughts of a better tomorrow,
Don’t you remember that even though it was raining,
Even though the storms were raging we still had puddles to run in,
Raincoats to forego, soaked to the bone, and enjoying natures faces,
When did all become so bleak,
When did sunshine become a burden, burning into our flesh,
Don’t you miss it,
Don’t you miss it when you see it
Don’t you miss it when you see it on childrens faces,
The innocent wonder of it all, even if we have break a bone, we explored the fortress,
We fought the monsters in the forest,
We saw beauty in the shrubbery.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Life Happened.
Who the hell puts a road block in the middle of the road,
Cross traffic is fine, but you and high nearly had a head on collision
Nearly fucked up each others automobiles, and in its course us as well
nearly died, nearly broke,
nearly lost our soul to a gravel plane.
And in this place, they saved us, this world we live in,
Because someone put a fucking road block in the middle of our intersection,
We wanted to veer into one another,
Take each others lights out,
Crash our cars in a river, just for fun, for shits and giggles.
But fate its a bitch, and we weren't meant for this meet cute,
You and your glasses, and your disgusting laughter,
Me and my jabs, and my desperate jokes,
We were the flip side of a coin, that someone picked up,
And spent on cigarette smokes,
and I can write a better lyric than the fucking guys in the band,
But I look like this, and can't pick up the guitar to save my life,
You think you know what you want, but you'll learn,
But he wants your blood, you see that one sitting next to you in the car
or behind you, wherever you were,
That's why he was so desperate to say so, distracting you, and you knew it,
Good thing that road block was there, or your car, and my feet would be broken
And mangled beyond repair,
I dont hate you, i'm happy, im not bitter,
And you shouldn't be either, but open up your eyes, and quit living your dream,
live in reality, come on before you do some damage that cannot be undone.
I've never been mister unreliable
Cross traffic is fine, but you and high nearly had a head on collision
Nearly fucked up each others automobiles, and in its course us as well
nearly died, nearly broke,
nearly lost our soul to a gravel plane.
And in this place, they saved us, this world we live in,
Because someone put a fucking road block in the middle of our intersection,
We wanted to veer into one another,
Take each others lights out,
Crash our cars in a river, just for fun, for shits and giggles.
But fate its a bitch, and we weren't meant for this meet cute,
You and your glasses, and your disgusting laughter,
Me and my jabs, and my desperate jokes,
We were the flip side of a coin, that someone picked up,
And spent on cigarette smokes,
and I can write a better lyric than the fucking guys in the band,
But I look like this, and can't pick up the guitar to save my life,
You think you know what you want, but you'll learn,
But he wants your blood, you see that one sitting next to you in the car
or behind you, wherever you were,
That's why he was so desperate to say so, distracting you, and you knew it,
Good thing that road block was there, or your car, and my feet would be broken
And mangled beyond repair,
I dont hate you, i'm happy, im not bitter,
And you shouldn't be either, but open up your eyes, and quit living your dream,
live in reality, come on before you do some damage that cannot be undone.
I've never been mister unreliable
Wake up and See the Douche Bag
I think I tripped and fell on your bullshit
All the way down the well of my insecurities
As I tumbled down that hollowed out earth
I thought it had no bottom
And here I am now, still falling, kind of floating,
In place.
You think you knew the truths behind the fairy tale
But once upon a time was your deciding factor
You thought you could rewrite history, but you gotta figure out you
I think I fell on purpose,
Tripping up on your bullshit was on purpose,
I wanted to test you, unmask you,
Take the glint out of your glasses down this far away maze,
I wanted to see you for real, and not just a distant stare,
At the douche bag roun the corner.
You think you knew the false in this unreal
But once upon a time was your common jump,
You found your way through history, unable to change a thing
And life goes on, dun dun dun,
History won't repeat, dun dun dun,
Forward motion is a bitch,
And its your glitch,
Your glaring system failure,
A malfunctioning space robot,
That can't do its mission,
And i'm still falling, floating down your hell,
i mean well.
All the way down the well of my insecurities
As I tumbled down that hollowed out earth
I thought it had no bottom
And here I am now, still falling, kind of floating,
In place.
You think you knew the truths behind the fairy tale
But once upon a time was your deciding factor
You thought you could rewrite history, but you gotta figure out you
I think I fell on purpose,
Tripping up on your bullshit was on purpose,
I wanted to test you, unmask you,
Take the glint out of your glasses down this far away maze,
I wanted to see you for real, and not just a distant stare,
At the douche bag roun the corner.
You think you knew the false in this unreal
But once upon a time was your common jump,
You found your way through history, unable to change a thing
And life goes on, dun dun dun,
History won't repeat, dun dun dun,
Forward motion is a bitch,
And its your glitch,
Your glaring system failure,
A malfunctioning space robot,
That can't do its mission,
And i'm still falling, floating down your hell,
i mean well.
The Hapless Woodsman
He walked this road before,
Held her close before,
But he never meant for things to turn out the way they did,
He said harsh things,
But never lifted a finger against her,
Only rattled her cage, and left her shaken,
She feared violence would come,
But it never did, she knew inside it wouldn't,
She knew what he had said was for her own good,
and it wasn't a threat, just a warning,
Not for her pain, but to prevent it,
he saw the road she was going down, and wanted to destroy it
Topple the bridges, and build walls,
Trap her inside a fortress,
and not for himself, but for her well being,
He could see her there, trembling in terror,
and it broke his heart,
So misunderstood and all alone,
With the big bad wolves dressed like sheep,
Standing outside the door,
Waiting for her to sleep,
And he was locked out of her life,
A door slammed in his face, and he heard the window break,
But she was a heavy sleeper,
Sound and gone, in her dreams,
Locked away with her key,
and they ate her up,
Gobbled her down in small little bites,
And she was gone,
He beat on the door begging them to stop,
To reconsider their terrorizing,
But they woudl not stop,
They refused to back down,
and heard them congratulate one another,
Give each other pats on the back,
And high fiving,
And he took an axe to the door,
Broke in down, turned it to splints,
And there she was,
On the bed, and they were gone, strolling around in their full wolf glory,
Monsters, with gnashing teeth, and beady eyes,
Done with her, after they broke her, simply done with her,
he tried to hold her close,
She knew his truths,
But she refused to admit her soul was gone,
She was gone,
and he wept and left her there,
After much debate and much reflection,
he had too, because she would lead them both down the road
To the caves,
and put them each in mortal danger,
She wanted it more,
The eating and horror,
It was all she would know now,
and he wept and left her there,
Broken,
Beyond repair,
but he would always leave an ear open, and try to save another,
Whom he worried was going down the same road,
Why is it the wolves always attract the lambs to the slaugher?
Held her close before,
But he never meant for things to turn out the way they did,
He said harsh things,
But never lifted a finger against her,
Only rattled her cage, and left her shaken,
She feared violence would come,
But it never did, she knew inside it wouldn't,
She knew what he had said was for her own good,
and it wasn't a threat, just a warning,
Not for her pain, but to prevent it,
he saw the road she was going down, and wanted to destroy it
Topple the bridges, and build walls,
Trap her inside a fortress,
and not for himself, but for her well being,
He could see her there, trembling in terror,
and it broke his heart,
So misunderstood and all alone,
With the big bad wolves dressed like sheep,
Standing outside the door,
Waiting for her to sleep,
And he was locked out of her life,
A door slammed in his face, and he heard the window break,
But she was a heavy sleeper,
Sound and gone, in her dreams,
Locked away with her key,
and they ate her up,
Gobbled her down in small little bites,
And she was gone,
He beat on the door begging them to stop,
To reconsider their terrorizing,
But they woudl not stop,
They refused to back down,
and heard them congratulate one another,
Give each other pats on the back,
And high fiving,
And he took an axe to the door,
Broke in down, turned it to splints,
And there she was,
On the bed, and they were gone, strolling around in their full wolf glory,
Monsters, with gnashing teeth, and beady eyes,
Done with her, after they broke her, simply done with her,
he tried to hold her close,
She knew his truths,
But she refused to admit her soul was gone,
She was gone,
and he wept and left her there,
After much debate and much reflection,
he had too, because she would lead them both down the road
To the caves,
and put them each in mortal danger,
She wanted it more,
The eating and horror,
It was all she would know now,
and he wept and left her there,
Broken,
Beyond repair,
but he would always leave an ear open, and try to save another,
Whom he worried was going down the same road,
Why is it the wolves always attract the lambs to the slaugher?
The Plea
I was thinking that recently there was a certain spice in my life,
Something more than welcome in my depressed state of affairs and it reinvigorated me,
I know longer feel let down by everyone,
Though at the same time, i don't feel held up,
I think it doesn't matter if they kicked or spit on me,
Cause i don't care what they've been thinking
I've been thinking of higher places,
Of trying to figure my own shit out, and letting it happen at its own pace,
Chasing dreams is still on, but I have to watch the cross traffic less I get splattered on the cement walk,
Here we are though, me and you, whoever you are,
Divided by a wall, fire and ice about us,
We either burn or we freeze, and whether it happens now or yesterday or it alaready happened yesterday I won't abandon you,
I feel obligated now, seeing where the future comes,
I can't let you fall into self destruction,
Let you get fished in with the assholes, and be chased down by vipers in kitten costumes,
They'll poison you, not just bite, and when they sink those venomous fangs in,
It's all they have to do to send you into self-destruct mode,
You may think you are making a statement,
But your not, your doing and saying the same things that I dozen, over a thousand, did before you,
And you'll follow there examples and make their mistakes, and be sitting amongst your blood and tears in a shower somewhere,
They see your beauty your perfection and they want to steal it,
I feel like guardian now, the prospects of the future, how can I stand by when i know whats coming
I've seen it before,
I hope you'll accept my assistance before you wind up in a ditch,
Because i'll always mean well, even when you don't understand.
Something more than welcome in my depressed state of affairs and it reinvigorated me,
I know longer feel let down by everyone,
Though at the same time, i don't feel held up,
I think it doesn't matter if they kicked or spit on me,
Cause i don't care what they've been thinking
I've been thinking of higher places,
Of trying to figure my own shit out, and letting it happen at its own pace,
Chasing dreams is still on, but I have to watch the cross traffic less I get splattered on the cement walk,
Here we are though, me and you, whoever you are,
Divided by a wall, fire and ice about us,
We either burn or we freeze, and whether it happens now or yesterday or it alaready happened yesterday I won't abandon you,
I feel obligated now, seeing where the future comes,
I can't let you fall into self destruction,
Let you get fished in with the assholes, and be chased down by vipers in kitten costumes,
They'll poison you, not just bite, and when they sink those venomous fangs in,
It's all they have to do to send you into self-destruct mode,
You may think you are making a statement,
But your not, your doing and saying the same things that I dozen, over a thousand, did before you,
And you'll follow there examples and make their mistakes, and be sitting amongst your blood and tears in a shower somewhere,
They see your beauty your perfection and they want to steal it,
I feel like guardian now, the prospects of the future, how can I stand by when i know whats coming
I've seen it before,
I hope you'll accept my assistance before you wind up in a ditch,
Because i'll always mean well, even when you don't understand.
Back Again
If your reading this thank you,
I don't know what I'd do without you,
perhaps there's some sort of intimate connection between me and you,
and maybe not, perhaps you glanced at these words and took off,
Like the flash, like a blast from another place,
But i'm sorry if i've neglected you,
i'll try to be more consistent for you,
for myself too.
I don't know what I'd do without you,
perhaps there's some sort of intimate connection between me and you,
and maybe not, perhaps you glanced at these words and took off,
Like the flash, like a blast from another place,
But i'm sorry if i've neglected you,
i'll try to be more consistent for you,
for myself too.
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