Distances Measured in Promises

I'll start this new post by saying it has been a good long while, but this blog is still getting attention so I figured I should post something new, so here goes.

Despite what you say, what you do, how you feel, or how you think
There is still a white light that shines through your perforated vision
Something unique and detachable, reachable, perchance retractable
This solititude I feel, is incomplete, because no man should be solo
The falling trees and the shaking earth, your conscience battered and bruised,
Contemplating suicidal tendencies but never suicidal action
You balance your belief system on the lies of your childhood,
And fall into your pits of fire like they were pools of water
And although you contemplate brighter times, you repeat dark days
Finding fault in the broken glass, but still embracing it
You are bloodied and broken
Crying out, but holding on to this rageful, spiteful vengeance,
That you continue without fault to do to yourself,
Here in this place about you, there are clouds of diminished capacity,
You see me fragile, and distraught, a smile upon the face of a porcelain doll
But strength abounds for under the fragile is rock
So when the earthquakes , and the tornadoes bruise your ego, and your passions
I will still be here, a little worse for wear but in tact,
It isn't blasphemy to curse God for this, because he cursed us first
Made us human, made us suspetible to mistakes, and stupidity
To knowledge and foolishness, he gave us not only the tools for our creation
but also the tools to lead to our ultimate destruction
I don't pretend to be a philosopher, nor would i want to be,
These impossible questions, with ridiculous solutions, since there are none
Are not reality's.
to the point at hand however, we are not perfect little flowers,
But I am not a rabid dog,
Perhaps a simple red fox,
Weaker, and vulnerable, but boxed in a corner, prepared to defend, and survive as best I can
Maybe the world will swallow whole that goodness that I want to stand for,
and maybe one day you can see this too, all of you, the you's out there in all this world,
Catastrophe is at hand,
But it is avoidable, and I will be here till i'm not,
And then i'll be gone forever if seasons do not change.

Possible Revised Opening for the Night Flyer

In a multitude of ways Simon Grace was like any other, a young strapping man with a penchant for simple acts of rebellion.  He tried his best to be the ideal grandson he thought his grandmother wanted, but something in him screamed to disobey.  If it wasn’t for that wonderful affection he received daily from her, he might have descended into a different type of young adulthood, but as it were his undying love, and respect for her ideals kept him in check, and molded his disposition.  He still had the urge to do his own thing, to walk free of the pack, but it wasn’t in any damaging way.  He kept to himself, his quest for independence was to allow him the chance to love his isolation, to understand himself, and the world around him.  Simon Grace was a strange boy in this regard, while others ached for the companionship of others, and finding comradery in friends, Simon demanded from his rebellion the right to be on his own, and to ponder his thoughts, with himself, on his own.  He was not a perfect grandson, he would often tell lies to his sweet trusting guardian, who would it seemed grant him a humorous knowing distance.  These lies he told were simplistic, you see Simon didn’t love fishing, but if you asked anyone in Placim what his greatest hobby was, his wonderous passion, they would tell you the opposite.  But Simon Grace didn’t fish, he pretended to fish, as an escape.  He never really gathered why he thought the lie was sufficient, that he was going out to catch his own breakfast, lunch, dinner, but he did, he felt as Placim was a fishing village that that would be the most understandable distraction a young man could have.  No one asked question about a boy in a fishing village who wanted to go catch fish, why would they?  They would assume that such a boy was shaping himself for a lifelong career of carving up smelly bass and trout, a lifelong career where one dreamed of catching and parading around the gutted body of a razor shark.  He however cared nothing for such dreams, for such life choices.  Simon would set off with his fishing line, a bucket, and he would go to the old town worn away by typhoons, and eatin by the blowing dune sands, and sit, dipping his toes in the waters at the end of the oldest, most worn docks in all of Placim.  And when he was there he would stare across the great big blue at the Isle of Grimm where in his mind the greatest mystery of all lied, where questions could be answered, and where no one could get to.

Jealous Flowers

There is a butterfly strong and knowing
Intelligent and fanciful
batting its wings upon flowers and grass
Soaring amongst everything
Until the last,
Bit of sunlight disappears from the earth,
She rests in the shade of the shadows of trees
And emerges glorious into the next day
Those human eyes taht are fortunate enough to see her
It fills with joy the days they toil away
All their mundane chores and causes,
Are silence in her prescence and they would lie on the grass
And let her land on their palms
And feel her tickle the skin ever so delicately.
They would let her, the beautiful butterfly dance all day,
And ponder nothing but her wings
but she soon floats away almost carried in the breeze
a delicate flower amongst the hurricane of leaves
And as they go about their day without her,
She is always in their minds,
And when they think on the butterfly there smile is, is ten times then.
The next morning as they awake from their slumber,
Its as though she’s waiting out the window just for them to hold her,
And the meager little people see beauty in their chaos,
and comfort in the storm.

The cute boy says here's a blanket to comfort you,
but it has flees
and small pox too
oh and if you sleep with it to close itll make you go blind
You'll become sterile
You'll learn to unlearn your life
The lessons that were taught you
This blanket reeks and will push your family away
This blanket was washed in a septic system
And scrubbed clean and dipped washed in sewage again
You'll learn to love it though
You'll carry on your shoulder,
You'll start to think its a good part of you
and you'll find another old blanket
And tear it in two
And soak it in fire, and pass it off to someone else
Here take this blanket the cute boy says
And the naive girl just stares in his eyes and says
This is exactly what i've always wanted
This makes me happy and whole
I feel safe and secure
She says these her eyes locked onto his
His hands still holding it for her,
And when decides to wrap herself in it,
And takes on all its diseases,
The cute boy disappears,
And she knows he was just a tool to get her to take it,
But she won't admit
Because she said she believed it
She said it was safe and secure and clean
But it smells so foul
And slowly she'll look into it
Discover all its little fibers
and look to dupe someone else into taking it
All because some guy pretended to like you to get you to take the shit stained blanket
That he passed out and charged you 120% for
But she won't admit that
No no she won't.