In your light....

Incandescent lighting paving the way to a better smile, useful and welcome is my outlook. The small sounds the big questions… my favorite taste just out of reach. Its like people can’t see what they need only want they want. Just to linger, adjusting there pace just enough to stay out of reach. Too small to see is the space I speak of, just enough to hide within… still this blind spot lingers. I say what you want to hear although I still hide, beneath the layers of time, just out of sight… out of mind. Do I question this fate… its odd sense of right and wrong? My own desires stir beneath just under the surface… enough still to stir the occasional ripple. Just close you eyes… listen… there in the background… it just passed. Time has a funny way of tempting you with chance… its a funny word… do you take one, do you tempt it… was there another one washed away on yet another ripple. Just dive in… just your feet wet… there comes a time when you swim or sink… so I jumped in the drink.

So what makes one’s self viable, what makes it possible… just how do measure the weight of one’s impact on someone… at what point are you viable… at what cost? Logistically speaking we are all viable… it just depends on the color of glass you are looking though… just how you reflect that person and what they see for themselves. Like minds don’t always think alike. 
So I taste… just a nibble… to keep down this ripple… for the sake of one, to keep this simple. Shall that taste linger… fear not… I’ll be round when times get tough… and when the splinter seems too deep; I’ll use incandescent light to see things another way... 

Commit to the fire.....

Commit this to fire… convert our past to ash 

It’s our wicked plan… our distain for our lives… our cause never found and you picture last laid down yesterday… illustrate your desires… play out your taste and make me believe you, more so than I thought possible yesterday… use your voodoo… lay to rest my passionate needs… bore me to death… lay out you plan, take your stand… bleed me dry, make your move… we all have more than we need… we are all less fortunate… we all cause this… and we all need be cleansed… violate my pride circumvent my trust… exponentially increasing my pain… scar me, use me… taste me, invade my space… penetrate my mind… setting up shop 24/7 your billboard vast and obstructive… such a distraction… such a waste of space… but like all people drawn to automobile accidents… I am drawn in… we look with nary a concern in our eyes… inevitably finding our gaze has little to do with the welfare of those evolved… appreciably more to do with the amount of carnage we can ingest… our collective hearts beating with anticipation… akin to the running of the bulls in spain… we are all patiently waiting for the impaling to begin… so set your line… I’ll be along in good time… just set your bait and sit back and wait… sending out letters to tell of my fate… 
So I have adoration for fire… the flame… that little friend that seeks fuel… not unlike the rest of us. 

Art... The Jealous mistress....

For those of us who are artistic and rely on then negative to get the juices flowing art can be a deceiving friend. In that it is always there waiting for shit to happen so it can manifest itself. It always wants attention and it has a hard time being neglected... but that’s what you do when you are happy... I myself cannot write words about happiness it just doesn’t suit me. I need the pain to be able to sit back and write like I do. I have to feel excluded from society and its masses of crap... I have to have a slight detachment from a situation to flip it and write the satire I do.
It basically means to me that its a fine line between being happy and being too happy... when I am happy I cannot create art and when I can't create art I'm are not completely happy. My art plays the jealous mistress in that when I'm happy she still wants to play and I don't have the fuel I need to play... but she’s always in your ear waiting for some juicy pain to sink her teeth into. For sometimes I feel best when I'm writing about pain and exercising my demons... its like I feel more alive then...than I do when I am happy.... 

Illustrate your mind....

Some people say time heals all… they also say a moment and the things said last for a forever…. That a single second in someone’s presence can influence a lifetime... which gives you more comfort?.. The fact a wound will heal with time… or that a wound simply scabs and scars over till someone comes along and picks at it… that its always there just under the surface… under the slightly pink scar tissue… discolored… for all to see, like a sign of caution… stating warning... contents under pressure. 

So you double your defense… draw your line in the sand… no one gets any closer than… this… and you explain your buffer zone to yourself… holding out you hands in a vain display of this new rule… the distance you will keep form others… and as you look at your hands they seem further away then they should be… just how will you feel the love and warmth you desire… with such a vast expanse at your finger tips… 

This is your dilemma… this is your stability …your structure at risk… in the heart of all people their first instinct is to build a wall… creating structure, a defining moment in which from they can derive control… giving them power, some sentiment of a defining purpose… and a small sense of victory… even if the underlying effect is a hindrance to their growth. 
Tell it like it is… throwing down your rulebooks in disgust and shame… buy a journal, paint a picture... write a song…. 

Illustrate your world… stop looking for answers in the horoscopes, for some one to give you a defining moment… a sense of who you are… for when its cold and quiet, and the light seem to dim to see the world… and you are left with nothing to fill your mind but your own thoughts… this is your moment… your cause… for if you cannot be alone with yourself you can never coexist with another… you must learn to get it out there in some way… in any way that allows you to step back and view it with a non jaded point of view… 

Illustrate your mind… get yourself out there… with any means possible… do not relegate yourself to the mindless masses… it is your duty to seek a more meaningful place in this contrived world… we mustn’t be content to exist purely for the sake of just… getting along… anything less than a impassioned quest for the quaint moments… the ones that really count… The boundless joy derived from a simple glance from your love… the painfully vivid encounters with happiness that fall from grace… the chance meetings that leave you forever changed… the nights spent in the company of friends where the topics don’t matter and the past is rehashed a thousand different ways…but the laughs remain the same… the trials and tribulations of this day and the next that make you question you very existence… the questions themselves begging to be answered… and the days that pass in a instant... and the moments that forever remain entrenched in your psyche. Anything less than an impassioned quest for all of these things… is a life not lived… but a life squandered… a prolonged journey filled with intermittent bursts of the life you could have attained. 

All of these things remain constant and quintessential components of any given life. You cannot go though life like a candy dish picking out all of the blue M&M’s because you find them less appealing… you can only try to live a different brand of life… in hope that your candy dish will contain a little more of what you like. 

Kill the captor...

Kill the captor & lets smoke the season out... cut the tumor at the core of your defeat... 

Lick the poison & do strap on the needle... run away from everything strewn about... 

I can't count the times that you been leaving... so Ill sell them all some new demons... 

I got a new need, one I just gotta feed... but Ill come crawling back... either to bleed or to attack. 

Have you seen the news today... the worlds going to hell, seems its full of moral decay 

Now some say all we need do is just prey... and all the wrong things will turn to OK... 

but I would hate to be stuck at such a precipice... and this be the only way... 

And although I cannot speak for others who may not feel this same way... 

I can tell you... 

...I need no such god to light my way... 

The use of color

As colorful and useful as I may have seemed it is in the thought that counts and as poignant as I can state this… my fatal mistake…. Never say what you mean… don’t get attached… for god sakes get over yourself… life is not special… neither were you. 

You can taste is it in the air… a small hint at the blood that drips into these hands… so dirty with shame… the were never meant to grasp beyond their reach… it was a fatal mistake… a small miscalculation… to think you would be good enough… and I don’t feel so colorful anymore… I can’t seem to find the use for my actions… no matter what I do… it seems to only affect everything negatively… it is in this I take solace… this is how I usually feel and at least this feels like home… my fieldtrip is over… I feel the kid who got on the bus by forging my moms signature… throughout the ride I felt out of place like I really didn’t deserve to be there… now things don’t taste the same… I feel empty and cold… and I feel worse after the fact than I did in the first place… so fuck you and the taste buds of life… for every time I get burned… everything taste differently, less like I remember…

Could have swore...

Taken hostage by the caustic dimly lit hollows you’ve left entrenched in my mind I find comfort in reasoning from time to time, but never on my own dime. I’ll make you pay the bill… I’ll leave the tip… I was always a better judge of service in this relationship. 

Pity I saw this same story yesterday and you still remain the same… I remember the way you used to taste… the bitter residue of a conversation spent spiting the seeds of regret to and fro. Have you seen it…? My passion… my drive…. Could a swore I left it round here this time… along this vast highway that we all ride. 

Cough, cough....

I can see you... I know what your hiding... you tail looms between your legs. I stand by and watch this all go down.. Perhaps one day I will return.... I will come round from my self imposed time of observation... to live again comfortable in my own skin again... to live again... maybe to begin again… and defiantly sin again.........

I can?

I can cover your skin… be your callus wall when the world gets rough. I could be your shelter… for the world will try to burn you down. I could be your looking glass… refract the things that confuse… give you perspective. Diffuse when the light is to harsh… reflect when darkness creeps in... 

I could be you vehicle… drive you to where you want to go… protect you in your journey. I could be a cause… one you fight for, one to match your effect. I could be your journal… tell me all I will not forget. I could be your sunset… appearing when it was thought there was nothing to see... 

I could be a lot of things… but I remain just me. 

You can wait till next time....

So cause and effect is all fine and dandy and a rope may come in ever so handy... till you take up the slack and do come to find… just what was I hanging onto all this time. 

So I sit and I smile alone all the while in the place I have made in my little cave and carve out my line, the one I will use and use in good time to spell out hope with this little rope and I swing and I sway though another filled day. 

So cause and effect has made me a wreck and stand and I wait for this I call fate, all the while it passes and you say just wait. So is it fair, of course not this is life and in life you can’t just sit there and be an audience member you have to help the script along. 

Problem is I have grown tired of writing, I have just enough left for small spurts of beauty nothing more than tempting lines I write from time to time, just a last gasp chance at forgetting the past. But what’s done is done… some battles can’t be won and no matter what you say… you cannot save the day. 

So I will write another story… in another life about personal glory… and the day that gets saved as if there was any other way. 

Unsure and back in the real world

I struggle... I lift my head and say ok this is it... find some words, some catchy metaphors. 

Why doesn't it make sense... why can't I explain this? It's funny sometimes you have a day so unlike the rest that it leaves you unprepared... you feel so unable to deal with you normal life. You see everything in blasts of color and lines of prose one day. Till you real life returns... you stand staring out a window much like one you remember in that kitchen, but it seems less quaint less peaceful, and you remember that view on the mountain and how anything was possible and you felt complete. 

Now I sit at my computer, and I struggle… struggle to find a way to describe a day so simple yet filled with so much meaning. It seems so distant now, so far away and perfect but not quite… but that was the beauty... it was real life only better, it wasn’t a dream, there wasn’t the promise of things to come or the regrets of things done… just the moment. 

So I struggle, just how far away was this world, this place of endless possibilities and zero regret. Is it the next town, the next state, or is not reachable on foot or by plane or any means of transportation… maybe it was just your refection you were seeing, that all your life had not been wasted that you we here… you were useful… you were needed. 

So I struggle… 

I cannot...

I cannot tell you all the ways I wish you knew me… 

I cannot say the words... yet they flow from every pore… You need but listen, my flesh… my eyes… they transmit more than words ever could. I see what I see… but still, you do not see me. 

The thought of mind against mind, skin against skin is intoxicating… the release of endorphins following the realization of a mental connection… the sudden need for more, not unlike any garden variety addict. The first innocent touch, that flickering moment when your hands barely graze… your heart pounds so loud you fear others will hear. The first kiss, that simple compression of the flesh covering ones mouth… these simple actions seem to say everything words do not… It is said during these brief encounters a sudden rush of electrical impulses races through you… crawling along the miles of nerves networked throughout the body… it’s in these short and increasingly rare occurrences that our strongest human connection can be found. 

Nothing is responsible for a wider gamut of emotions than love… Sometimes words only serve as unintelligible vocalizations of what remains trapped in our minds…

A daily thought

On one hand be calm, be steady do not rush to something you desire… For when you focus only on the desired outcome your moment passes you… you never fully accept the true meaning in each moment.

In the other hand life is meant to be lived… not planned or experienced in the passenger seat while you coast along afraid to drive. Some might say we should burn in each moment until we are ash, meaning we should never hold back, we should never be afraid of the moment… if we hold back we then exist in two separate places… one filled with happiness... one filled with fear... neither having our full attention nor commitment. We should be pure and inhabit each moment fully and with everything we have, if we hold back then it may be tainted with fear or uncertainty. 

Perhaps we should aspire to fail to exist each day… to let go of the fear and trepidations associated with the thought of ourselves as fragile… when we let go and cease to concern ourselves with the outcome of each moment we can then truly live in each moment without fear of pain or death. We are reborn each moment, each speck of time changes you… the old you dies and the new you continues along. 

The only way the past will hurt you is when you enable it too, you may revisit a moment in your mind that brings you great harm… but the harm is only in your mind… Time can be a flexible thing… you may actually feel the same because your mind does not know the difference between now and then. 

We may act differently in our daily life after a traumatic experience but we are the one hurting ourselves… we are allowing the past to taint our present… and our future… In that way we are never moving… we haul the past with us in each moment and how can we give everything we are in this moment with such a momentous weight on our shoulders… 

I think we must learn to except and move forward… now this is not an easy thing but it is certainly sometime to strive for… 

…How can we ever expect to find happiness if we continually allow our past and the fear of the future to dictate our daily choices?

Fossils...

And in my head I find the fossils of those I had left for dead… 

My thoughts awash with the regrets of being. I stumble through another days folly with nary a scratch on the surface… but inside I hemorrhage uncontrollably… I speak in lines of prose and promise but I never feel I can be honest, as if my true feelings can never be excepted. I feel I don’t connect… as if I am stuck on the AM dial while the world has moved on to bigger and better. How is it possible to never feel excepted, as if there is always something left in the cold… unwanted… 

I wish I could rewrite my inner workings, it feels like there are so few people who operate on the same wave length. Even when I have companionship I can feel so alone. When I feel I might lose something my first instinct is to burn it before I can be hurt… Better to be in control of your own fate rather than the victim. It’s really no wonder I have trouble relating to people with all of this dysfunction. 

I seem to only be good for people in small increments… I realize that I must always keep my distance because no matter what I do I burn the things I care about most. 

I feel great satisfaction and peace in my separate life… where I alone exist… however I feel great strife when speaking of my interaction with others…

Like a gunshot blast full of negativity...

They are only words but they twist and they cut… I can’t but feel stricken with some disease the strips me of my viability. People say the words but the actions never follow suite... 

Some will tell you your special… they lie… you are nothing more than an excuse to talk. A simple interface with which to exchange ideas till something better comes along. 

Pour forth yourself with concern you will eventually run dry… no one will be there to help refill. You must not forget yourself, do not fall into the trap of thinking you’re needed… you’re not … you are just a place holder. 

You don’t really help… you only think you do. You have nothing useful to offer… get over yourself. You offer nothing thousands of others already do better than you... welcome to life. 

Nothing last... 

We are not the people of the we have read....

From the screen one could hear a scream... loud gasps at the crumbling of her dreams. But not a cry of the defiant nature, but more in the how can this happen vain.

We have heard it over and over again and each time it remains the same…. But we dare not mention its name. Piece by piece we take her apart and ship her overseas… we strip her down and sell off her internal organs… and hope that the old time mental pictures and propaganda take hold… her life blood…her people too often fight against the greater good and for their own agendas. We tear her apart like rouge antibodies attacking each other rather than banding together to fight the true evil pumping poison into her veins….

Perhaps the country we all grew up learning about died long ago… her heart was crushed and in its place a mechanic replacement now rest…. made in a far far away land... It no longer pumps the life blood of the people who built this country… it now runs on the unending greed that permeates the landscape….

Welcome home…

The Minutes of Freedom

We wish we could be the passionate characters of our dreams... however we remain trapped by the timeless constraints of life and its barriers... sometimes we allow, we give permission to these shackles… we want them to hold us down. We need them to hold us down, we say we want freedom… but freedom can seem so empty… it can be difficult to discern who and where you are when you are not guided by road signs and the cute antidotes of what life should be….

After all most people do derive security from control, the warm blanket that is knowing your future and working towards a set goal… Too often this blanket is simply pulled over our eyes… we spend so much time looking ahead that we forget how to stand where we are.

It seems I feel the most lost when I forget who and where I am… I focus intently on the tip of the blade, struggling to manipulate its trajectory…

Tragically perspective is lost, we fail to notice as the blood pools at our feet… foreshadows our fate as we continually lacerate ourselves on the equally sharp edges just out of sight… spilling blood forth for the masses to ingest as they so often do with great haste. Their only concern… must win… must succeed… must crush the competition… pile it on when they are down. Their ascent can be tricky, filled with the wasted lives and broken bodies of those not willing to stab the person in from of them for the next spot in line….

Do you remember when our biggest concerns were who got the tire swing at recess? If you would get picked at P.E. for kickball?

Perhaps George Shaw was correct when he said “youth is wanted on the young”…

I prefer to think we simply become too smart for our own good, we become experts on everything… our minds become closed… we are certain of everything…

To a child flying to the grocery store by simply flapping their arms seems like a viable option… to an adult the thought is preposterous… but I ask who would you rather be?

I’m not saying we should ignore logic or the things we learn as we grow. But instead might we live exceptional, more passionate lives if we lessoned our grips on life and our focus on things that we cannot control nor influence? Might it be fun to approach life with the wonder and possibilities a child would have? Too often we fail to experience moments at their full potential… we assess a situation and categorize it… expecting a particular outcome and by doing so we create that very reality.

Ok enough with my declamation… Perhaps I will continue down this path later on….

I for one have to go… gotta catch my flight home from work…. Falcor never waits around when I’m late….

Luckdragon my ass….

If fire is on your mind.....

If fire is on your mind, I may have the time... 

So beautiful… so consuming... these things I touch… and slowly they turn to fuel. Tenderly I console, you and I becoming one… the fire burns hot but these ashes make poor companionship. I shift from one place to another seeking fuel… seeking my next flame. Each time my fuel, my lover in overtaken by the flames… and each time I reach to wipe the soot from her face she succumbs to gravities will… ashes crumbling back to earth. 

Each time it’s like this… the intentions are pure, but the results remain the same. I only search for someone who seeks fuel like I… and burns like I do. Along the way the casualties are many… Sadly understanding is often the first victim. The sudden light, the intense heat scares most off… we appear eccentric but we long only to be understood. The passion that drives the flame can be overwhelming to some. 

But a flame knows no other way… most that cross its path are burned not out of spite, but by the flames need to reach out to every bit of beauty it sees… the flame only longs to hold on to the beauty… for the light cast by its burning embers illuminates the darker recesses that society attempts to ignore but I am none the less drawn towards… it’s the ongoing battle to avoid the suffocating darkness… the fight to stop the hole in all of us from spreading… we attempt to fill it with any beauty we find in hope that those around us remain oblivious to the inferno raging deep within us all. 

It’s the reason we become bored with people, become bored with possessions… It’s the reason things fall from our graces… only so much fuel exist in any one thing. In time you consume that which you love; just as fire replaces what it consumes with char… we consume beauty and leave bits of ourselves in its place. Over time it becomes more and more difficult to see the beauty you once found irresistible… it begins to resemble ourselves more each day. 

Your flame oxidizes everything you touch…