Don’t Say A Word

The water rises, the levees go down
Houses disappear without a sound
A waving hand sinks beneath the waves–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

A bullied child runs home in tears
To a home where none will hear his fears
The rope swings in the rafters–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

An angry mob screams retribution and hate
Destroying another innocent’s fate
Blood stains the dusty streets–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

Vitriol and fury runs down the page
Fuck you!!! cries the internet sage
A nation drowns beneath the weight–
Shhh… don’t say anything.

A church shout their hallelujahs
A congregation filled with barracudas
Hypocrisy vibrant on every face–
Shh… don’t say anything.

A holy man steals a precious soul
A priest shatters what should be whole
Lust, greed, and envy run amuck–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Whip the populous into a froth
Direct the orchestra as the conductor taught
Distract perspective and reality–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Another bullet loads into a gun
Another world comes undone
A deluded last stand–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Easily amused, so easily confused
Dance along to this terrible ruse
As another thousand succumb to the sword–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

And while most still cling to thoughts of a messiah
Still more seize justification for warfare and pariah
Another fool succumbs to manipulation–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Even children are polluted
Their innocence convoluted
Worse still, in wars they are recruited–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

If a tree falls, no one will here it
Not unless it cuts out the Ethernet
Let’s get real, nobody cares–
Shh… don’t say anything.

Nothing more than eminent destruction
Apocalypse remains the final construction
Last one standing gains all the wealth–
Shh… don’t tell anyone.

Tick tock, time to expire
Just wait until it all catches fire
By the way, the earth was never not burning–
Shh… your words don’t mean a thing.
So don’t tell anyone.

While There is Life, There are… Inconveniences

Throughout my formative years, being the smart one meant that no one would mess with me -that much. They’d be more likely to ask for my help than bully me -I guess you could say I bartered my brain to avoid all that.

But once I graduated and started working, I began to understand how different that environment was versus the educational environment. In school, the goal is to get good grades, which depend on you (mostly) and sometimes a team. In work, the goal is to complete tasks and projects, which depend on yourself, your team and your supervisor.

The first year was great, I was knocking out my work at a wicked pace. But I later realized that this only inspired insecurity and jealousies that quickly manifested in numerous ways -which I will not discuss here.

Needless to say, the situation rapidly tanked. To summarize, it was like living in enemy territory while walking through a minefield every day: everything is a trap, everyone is against you, and everywhere is unsafe. You either crumble under the pressure, or you don’t. And then you’d also have to decide how you will behave under those circumstances.

On the other hand, you really get to see the type of person you really are.

Granted, in the large scale of things, this experience was nothing; but, in the myopia of my life, it was rather significant. Stress, anger, and navigating office politics were a knife’s edge tightrope where balancing expectations came second to managing oneself and choosing your battles -you always have to stay true to yourself while maintaining dignity, self-advocation, and grace under fire. After exiting the crucible, I realized that I had passed through the stages of:

  1. Denial – “Surely this isn’t happening.”
  2. Anger – “How dare this fucking happen to me!”
  3. Acceptance – “Fine, this is happening then?”
  4. Cynicism – “Of course this is happening, what did I expect?”
  5. Pity – “I find it utterly pathetic that you need this to happen.”

I’ll tell you this, I have grown a great deal both in mental fortitude and in standing up for myself while remaining respectful and supportive regardless of the situation.

The following quotes stuck with me throughout this time.

119386-Warren-Buffett-Quote-Take-the-high-road-it-s-far-less-crowded

We cannot control the wind, but we can adjust the sails (1).png

In the word revenge, hides the word never. REVENGE | EGNEVER.

I’m not interested in revenge but the anger remains a fizzling ember of thought which, thankfully, fades day by day.

I calmly breathe away moments of vengeful thoughts by placing these perspectives in place.

1) Time has passed, let it go.
2) It’s not worth the hassle.
3) They will destroy themselves -all by themselves- with no need of assistance from you.

Revenge can be a trap, a whirlpool of toxic thoughts and anger. But revenge should not be used for petty slights, no matter how badly you or I might want to punish the offender(s). It is a costly business that will often take away more from the avenger than the offender.

And so I close this chapter of my life, snuff out the anger, take cleansing breaths and continue to live a fulfilling life. Because this is ultimately the greatest revenge.

“I am a stone, unaffected
Rain hell down onto me
I am a stone, unaffected
Your fool I will not be.”

~I Am A Stone by Demon Hunter

Smokey Eyes

She spoke with the scent of fire
A fine spectacle of brimstone and fury
Like a dragon of flame, the rippling tide
Of liquid gold both repels and attracts;
She is still so lovely, I adore her regardless
I scraped the dirt from my knees.

I listened to the sentences and dissected the words
But all my concentration was snagged
On the smoke-tinged solitude
And the lingering sadness.

In all those moments
When we both speak
But cannot hear or listen or resonate
Like ships in the night slipping from shore
The smoke signals fade away
We hit the icebergs; we’re going down

Ah, I shudder in the flame of her incantation
Somehow even more furious
Somehow more attractive
Even if it was just a moment of anger infused lust

They warned she’d only bring me sorrow
But I store my tears for tomorrow.
Bathed in the flame of her desire
How can I stay away?
Beguiling kohl-rimmed eyes
Dripping gray tears -wet the palate

And when the flames cool and the fire dies
The volcano crisped to ash
She handed me divorce papers
Charcoal and third-degree burns

She spoke with the scent of fire
A fine spectacle of brimstone and fury
Like a dragon of flame, the rippling tide
Of liquid gold, both bevels and attracts.

I Believe when you Lie

Always is a word
That never should be spoken
By your lips.

Forever is vague
A concept foreign to your
Unfaithfulness.

How do we
Keep these strings together
That bind us?

I brought the yarn
But you came armed
With your scissors.

Cutting holes
In our tapestry and hopeful
Aspirations.

Viciously slicing
My frail principles into broken strands
Of spider’s thread.

I force this shunt
Into my chest to release the pressure
Of this pain.

Like junkies at the intersection
We wait desperately for the light to turn
Green again.

Predators prey

It wasn’t even dark
Laughter in the sky
And the blazing sunshine made it all too real.

The birds sang
And the full moon hung low in the sky
A pale shadow visiting from the night

He remembered asking about the man on the moon
And whether he would tan
In the glow of day.

Next door, children were laughing and playing
A shriek of delight
And a call for snacks and maybe candy!

The dust tickles his nose
He needs to scratch it so badly
But his arms are not his own

His arms are not his own
He has completely lost control
And innocence shreds like forgotten gift wrappings

Pain slices through the haze
He has forgotten his place
And now it all comes trickling back with accompanying horror

Screams and tears are silenced
Cotton absorbs more than moisture
Soaking up despair and shame and sharp screaming edges of revolted denial-

The shuddering of his frame
The inexplicable disconcerting break from freedom
Was it just moments ago he’d been clean?

Just moments ago, he’d  so easily given trust
To a warm smile hiding filthy lust
Led away from the direct protection of the sun.

He desperately wants to be the moon
Cold and frozen and so far away
No one could touch him there-

Water rushes in torrents from the faucet
He scrubs and scrubs but his body remains rife with soiled fingerprints
Polluted skin and dripping filth -how can he reach?
-How can he even bear to touch?
-How could he ever be clean?
-Would he ever be clean again?

Fury and agony
Dips his head into water
Thrashing and screaming “NO! NO! NO!”
At the rhythmic echo of foul penetration
The once precious mural is gone forever
And only shattered mirrors remain.

Disillusioned and dull, he finds himself rocking
Keening from within the bundle of cloth
How he would welcome the monsters beneath his bed
Welcome with open arms the terror of imagination
Rather than continue to remember the last hour
Why couldn’t it all have ended?

Abandoned.
Forsaken.
He knows what is right
He knows who should pay
But his voice was silenced
Since that day.

Boys aren’t victims
They don’t get touched
Or violated, that is a woman’s
Burden. It simply isn’t done.
It isn’t an action that could ever occur
Beneath the shining sun.

And so, the heavy mantle
Of injustice crushed his soul
Never again be held, never again to receive comfort
In loving arms, never again to feel
Safe and innocent
The predator has left his marks imprinted on his bones.

Ownership, the body is another object
The mind is another victim
Unkind and unflinching, it refreshes the past
Anew in every nightmare
How long shall he pray?
How long till he can escape?

He awakes on the platform
The rattle of the train
A desperate engine of velocity and locomotion
Steeling himself,
He shuts his eyes.
And steps into nothing.

Sapiosexual

I love your mind
The thoughts flitting from your lips to my ears
A most fascinating mechanism-
The logic processing-
Enthralled by the calculations
The outcome, astronomical.

Shinier than any diamond
More precious than any luxury
The wit as sharp as a blade
The humor snapping like a whip
Leaps of vulgarity in innocent consequence
Each word a gold doubloon.

They ask me if I’m an ass man
Ass man? Ask man,
Are you not a breast man?
Thigh man? Hips, legs and curves man?
Wingman?
Nah, man.

Challenge and debate
Philosophy not pontificate
Fantasy and desire
I can light your world on fire
Let me make love to your brain
Leave behind the sex, if it’s all the same…

 

 

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)*

*Minimal Spoilers

So, I’m fresh from the theater and can hardly wait to deconstruct this film. After tumbling through the latest films (see upcoming reviews on F8 of Furious and xXx), I had no high expectations, especially after viewing the titillating trailer featuring all the fighting highlights in the entire film in a teaser style that video game trailers love to over-utilize.

That being said, I’m not exactly coming from the perspective of one who has watched all that cinema has to offer on the topic of King Arthur, Merlin, the Pendragons, or anything of the sort. While I am generally familiar with the story of Arthur’s ascension to the throne, the only film I’ve watched in this vein was Monty Python’s: The Holy Grail. Consequently, my perception of this film is not impacted by the apparently disgraceful and inaccurate slant on the story.

So, onward to the good and the bad of this film. As usual, I’m focusing on:

  • Plot
  • Action
  • Characters / MC vs Antagonist
  • Cinematic Techniques

Continue reading King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)*

Listings via Craig

She says she’s looking for companionship,
Quite possibly a friend;
She says she wants to cuddle
And maybe, hold hands.

She says she’s looking for somebody,
That just might be the one.
She says, she’s open for conversation,
But not for sordid fun.

She knows what she’s looking for,
She knows just what to get;
Ain’t looking for a bummer,
Just trains that stay on track.

She has a slew of hobbies,
That tick off all the boxes;
She has a string of commands,
There ain’t no compromise -yet.

She isn’t very lonely,
But she sure could use a hand;
She’s looking for somebody,
Who knows just what to get.

She says she wants to take her time
And make this mission work;
She says she’s looking for relationships
Not just someone to hurt.

She says she’s willing to take the time
Give her own fair chance;
She’ll measure twice and cut once
Don’t count the steps, just dance.

She whispers to weakness
Beguiles the unbeloved;
She tempts the sullen bride
To leave her veil uncovered.

She beckons to the broader world
With open unlost reveal;
Does she mean to be this open
And expose all that she feels?

She spoke the words that rattled cages
Lit hope in darkened mists;
Remembering just in time
That this is just a written list.

Whether she is real or not
I know my limitations
Imagined or realistic
My confidence is mere imitations.

Hampered by my own demise
How could I extend candidacy?
A life going nowhere, a body abhorred
This dream is naught but idiocy.

So close the window, escape her words
And shake loose the thoughts of desire;
Tell Craig to leave us be
Lest she learns that we are liars.

Real or not, rattled in my cage
For once I wondered whether
I could be less detestable;
If only I could lose my tethers…

Coffee #27: Question mark? Semicolon; Zer0

( ? ) Question Mark:

I question everything and know nothing. I look in the mirror and see a stranger of unimportance and delusion.

Questions haunt me so much more beyond the simplistic -“what’s that?” or “google it?”- moments. When a definition provided clarity and answers completed the quest.

But words don’t mean anything, and words are just syllables and latin phrases derived and bastardized with blunt force trauma. Like a buffet, we can shop for words to define the undefinable, to label the unmentionable, to describe what is with empty words that mean absolutely nothing.

Is it a competition to collect the labels to define ourselves and others?

Is it asexual or demisexual? Is it heterosexual or homosexual or pansexual? Is it minority or person of color or the alphabet soup of checking twelve boxes on a college application form? Is it gender queer or transgendered or gender neutral?

Does it even matter when you are alone anyway? Does the starving individual worry about such trifles when trapped on a desert island, struggling to survive and maintain hope of rescue? At what point is it good to ask such questions? Is it just selfishness or spoiled indulgence to ponder and wonder instead of being grateful for breath and life and prosperity?

If there were any sense of clarity, perhaps I would ask these questions for the hope of enlightenment, to seek a deeper truth or a hidden meaning to it all. I don’t just want to know, I want to understand and with understanding gain some measure of peace. The rough sea of questions with no answers are an insufferable plague; couldn’t there be a final “aha!” moment to crown the months of struggle and analysis? To close the chapters of confusion with some measure of resolution?

Will I forever be tormented by these questions and uncertainties?

( ; )  Semicolon:

“How could I be sure, that you won’t walk away?
Angel of deception, let me live this way.”

~ How Can I Be Sure by Anomie Belle

Here I stand on the crumbling edges of the excavation
Peering into the depths of another conclusion
-Finally- a gasp from the back of my mind
At last, this morbid phase comes to a close
Just a few more inches, just a few more days
Just another adventure to cure this malaise
Let us finally close this chapter, petty one
Let us finally go our separate ways, lead on
Shutting the lid on this final viewing
We commend your past to the depths
This body isn’t yours to give and burn
But this memory is yours to do with what you will…

Time to pack, time to move, and time to find boxes and store items from each room. What can I live without? Everything…

My contract is ending, this period draws to a close and I am excited for the new opportunities available, the new doors that I can reach out and grasp, firmly, with both hands. I can achieve the goals burning in my soul, I can finally do what I’ve always wanted.

I can finally escape the madness! And what worse madness is there, than to see the insane and assume it a daily norm?

But I digress.

It’s never too late to start a new life. After staring into the mirror wondering “If this were my last day, would I want to do what I’ll do today?” I can finally respond with a solid resounding “YES”.

Raising a glass to the next step of the journey-

( 0 ) Zero:

Zero is often seen as a negative number. Nothing, without, and other negative connotations.

Mathematically, the number zero is neither positive nor negative -except for French mathematics which holds that zero is both positive and negative.

Zero isn’t nothing. Zero is both all and none -like a version of infinity.

So when I say that I am Zero, it is neither positive nor negative in its connotation. It simply “is”. It simply exists. I simply exist, without justifications or associations, without condemnations or hallucinations.

Just there.

Just alive and being, and thinking and existing.

I think therefore I am; if I think about the construct of nothing I still am. Existence isn’t determined by quantity but quality.

Zero is calculated by adding positive and negative numbers that cancel each other out in perfect balance and equality. Life in balance encapsulates the good and bad -nothing wrong with that.

Zero brings with it a zen construct of balance and possibility. Add or subtract, multiply and divide, all or none. Harmony and equality.

Neutrality at its finest…

In a society that emphasizes quantity and accumulation, zero is frightening and horrific. Zero balance = panic attacks. Zero tolerance = freak-the-fuck-out.

Yes, zero gets a bad rap.

But it doesn’t have to be negative. It can be positive. It can be neutral.

It can be what it is without explanation.

And, by extension, so can I.

(?) (;) (0)

So, what’s with the three symbols?

Nothing much, just punctuation.

Enunciation.

A declaration of independence.

Life as He Knows it

He wakes up, head throbbing with pain
Barely questioning the why of feelings obtained;
Brain checks out of the morning routine
Just get out the door, sight unseen.

Get to a place he can truly despise
Do all he can to not close his eyes;
Hope for a better change of pace
Knowing he’ll never leave this place.

Glaze through it all, abide by the rules
Unique to him, enforced by the fools;
Staring out the window of his prison
Giving up hope than anyone will ever listen.

Is it time yet to go? No, not even close
Sit back and try to just make it the most;
Exhaustion creeps in, slowing the run
Regardless of wind, rain or sun.

And when he finally is free, finally home
Weariness drags, he just wants to be alone;
Pass out in bed, wake up at night
Try to make do with the boredom in sight.

He makes do with the empty dial tones
Of strangers hanging up their telephones;
Candles flickering with an anemic glow,
Somewhere in the darkness, a bell tolls.

He shivers –here –with his empty arms
A vagabond bereft of all his charms;
He knows how it ends, he knows how it goes
He knows how this story comes to a close.

It ends in the morning when the sun comes up
After midmorning showers and chipped teacups;
It ends with him walking out the door
Taking a flight, to never return anymore.

It ends on the shores of a silvery day,
When crustaceans and dolphins come out to play;
It ends, not with an echoing scream or a bang-
But the drawn out silence after the last bell rang.