Identity #12: Metamorphisis

I have been…

Reborn? Rejuvenated?

Renewed.

Within this month, I feel like my brain has been recalibrated. That I’ve turned a corner and am suddenly on the path I’ve been trying to find my whole life.

“I’m on a new level” or some shit.

Continue reading Identity #12: Metamorphisis

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Got issues? Don’t we all…

Criticism doesn’t do anything but breed resentment and demoralization. Rather than criticize, consider the power of gentle reminders and recognition of the good actions taken. The right decisions made and executed.

Continue reading Got issues? Don’t we all…

The moment you become nothing you can be anything.

It’s like I could open my mouth and drink it.

Bullet casings, flowing into my mouth. Swallow.

Swallows. Against birds of prey never had a chance.

Draw my scabbard from my spine to pierce the eye of the scorpions

The wings of Adonis

Flight of a thousand sword slices

Cluster around the bleeding spring

The training was too specific.

AK rolls 47 times in its grave

 

Dream Scape

Washing cooked tofu in a wash machine. Set on rinse. Then it started adding soap, so I stopped the machine and rinsed again, then stopped it once done.

I was so sure I could still eat it, then something or someone said (possibly my Mother) “You know you can’t eat that right?”

“Yeah,” I said, completely changing my mind about 50%. “I think you’re right.”

I look at my handful of soaped tofu, realized I couldn’t just cook off the soapy liquid and eat it. So into the trash it went.

Life is what you make it

Fear can be the cement block weighing your feet 1000 ft below the surface.
Hope can be the wings that lend lift to your soul 1000 ft above the clouds.
Despair can be the inky scent of swamp and graveyards.
Peace can be the clean-smelling air after the rainstorm.
Family can be a group of strangers with one accord.
Destruction can be a single word of pain and hurt.
Battles can be a single, spoken “No”.
Surrender can be silence in the face of adversity.

Success can be one step, taken every day.
Failure can be one stop along the way.
Birth can be a strangled inhale.
Death, a solemn exhale.

Life can be fear and hope delving into peace and despair wrapped round family and destruction with battles and surrender striving to make success out of failure and celebrate the birth despite the deaths.

Life can be one second, of every hour of every day.
Life can be a laugh, a smile, exhilaration, and play.

Life… is what you make it.

I’m calling Bullshit!!

So what? I thought that your
Precious flag flies high
Over the heads of those who
Listen to their conscience.
Not popular demand
And man, this is crazy
That the freedom that you tote
To protect voices of hate
Is quick to condemn
The voices of inquisition and
Thoughtful inquiry.

It is not your right
To determine right or wrong
It is not your right
To condemn and raise contempt
It is not your right
To judge and “school” and “teach lessons”
To someone who has lived
Life you have never experienced
That you don’t understand
That you are quick to condemn
Because your pride and arrogance
Can’t conceive of a life
Different from your privilege.

That is your right, to think your own mind
And thoughts, and voice your opinions
But it is NOT  your right
To impose those thoughts and opinions
On everyone else
We like to say “we America”
But act like “we China”
How many babies can I have?
How many abortions can I have?
Censor or censure
You can’t claim to be enlightened
And behave like like an oppressor.

Sometimes

Sometimes I find it hard to care. I always manage to return, a stupid circle that doesn’t make sense,  one I cannot erase. I wish I hadn’t learned, or that I had forgotten. It’s a part of me now, it tears me apart now and nothing I do or say seems to work.

But I haven’t quite tried every single thing I could have done or do. A small scrap of hope and maybe this time- I am not optimistic. Pessimist is my given name and realist is my life’s creed and yes, maybe I just don’t want to feel pain, despite it’s ongoing affliction I still shy away from it. Should I not embrace it to my chest and suckle it to my veins and grow it as my own, a cancer of my demise?

I am tired, and I hardly win any battles as I lose this war, why can’t I seem to get it right? These bones warn me and my tally dissuades me. And is this the day that the ink and black claim me once more?

Coffee #23 – What the F**k am I doing?

“Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time. Look for a situation in which your work will give you as much happiness as your spare time.” ~ Pablo Picasso

Happiness –if I don’t feel it, I’m doing something wrong.

I can mark, very specifically, the moment that happiness began to drain away.

I can’t even draw anymore, all my creative outlets are practically dried up. I can’t seem to make music, or write stories, or even draw. The only thing left are words and poetry, anger and rage.

Not exactly a recipe for happiness.

Continue reading Coffee #23 – What the F**k am I doing?

Surrounded by Death

There was no need to get so close, I am well aware
Of how short time is and how closer I get -every day- to the grave
That there is no escape and how god is holding this loaded gun to my head
Teasing me with thoughts of futile eternity and imagine heaven
But I just imagine devils and demons and the fucked up existential crisis that boils down to
Hating what I have, that’s backwards ain’t it? Shouldn’t I treasure and enjoy
These fading moments; not concern myself with the thousand imagined commandments
That I be breaking and feeling obligated to say sorry without sincerity -what’s the point?
Not like I’ll live to regret it or expect it, forgiveness, not like fire and condemnation
No, Death, I am well aware of your presence, like an inescapable fetish, compulsion of bodies to die
And imagine a resurrection to a better place where magic makes everything better
Perhaps I am too cynical for heaven, but if so, why can’t I be too cynical for death?