Random Thought

In a gross oversimplification,  the Spanish, despite plundering the new world first,  sent the majority of their wealth to the Catholic church. The British had no such obligations and managed to encompass the globe and all the riches therein. Where, then, is all that wealth? Has it all been liquidated post WWI and WWII?

The Doors

Is it a hall or a corridor?

I can’t seem to find the end.

I reach the doors of walls.

A handle in brick refuses to open.

Denied again, I reel in pain.

The door is never meant for me.

The beauty beyond was never mine.

Alone in the echoing halls, I wait.

The silence smoothers my breath.

Ice steals over my shoulders.

Will you hold me, winter? Will you never leave me?

Melting around me, I drown in the ripples.

The statue stares imperious and I wonder

How it can stand so strong all alone.

Does it help, that it is carved from stone?

The impossible pedestal remains beyond the remnantes of memory.

How can you be at peace with solitude? I scream.

Teach me…I whisper. Teach me to be ice and stone.

To put away this sorrow I’ve called my own.

Allow me to be content with my fate and succumb to these bindings.

Or cut me free at last.

I am Debating Cryosleep

In the perfect world, I would put all my possessions in storage, freeze my accounts, tell some family members to lock away my government issued identification, and finally be transported to the nearest cryosleep location to sleep off the shitty parts of my life.

Wouldn’t it be grand to wake up just as life was getting better?

For fear of turning this post into a bitch fest, I am contemplating the stretch of my life so far in 2017.

I am suffering from boredom -not intellectual boredom, or lack of Netflix- no, I speak of a lack of stimulating conversation. Talking with people. Being with people. Being in the company of others.

I think I put myself in jail…

And I can’t, for the life of me, find a way to break this cycle.

Go somewhere? Yes, but where, darling? There are no festivals or community events -and I’m not going to an AA meeting to meet people (the last remaining social event…).

Go where there are people? Refer to answer 1. There just isn’t that many people here… I need to move, don’t I?

The wanderlust has been stirring, and frankly, I never thought I could do so much time in one place again. I need to get going…

And yet, there is no one like me. I am dying for some intelligent, impractical, irreverent, and immersible conversation that isn’t about someone’s love life, or their daddy issues, or their complaints about…shit that they started themselves. PLEASE, IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

Cryosleep is looking better every day…

On a random note, I recently drove by an old childhood memory site – the religious camp where much of my early years were tainted wasted. It looked so small and unkempt. I wonder what those silly little people are up to now in their tiny stupid worlds…

Probably still fighting over apartments.

Ahhh, let the good times roll…

 

Pic source, Artist Kaek

Not a Dot but a Semicolon

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Screaming silently like I’d never choke,
You took away more than my hope;
More like my sanity, till all that remained of me
Were shadows and echoes of what I used to be…

Sticks and stones break my bones,
But your words broke more than my soul;
Poisoning the well of my love, I was watered only by
The absence of yours -surrounded by your betrayals and lies.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
A demon’s child you wished to destroy
Isolation became my only ploy
For peace, and yet your words rained like fists
To crush what little light remained in the shrouded mists;

The hot kiss of pain chased with throbbing hurt,
Why couldn’t you just leave me for dead? Burial dirt
Is kinder than placing your cruelty into my ribcage
To join old wounds rusted into blades planted by your rage.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
To a moment when I wept ‘no more, no more’,
And weighted my options to seal the door;
There was no raven to quote evermore
Only rain, trees, and a slip knotted tour.

There was no magical light to show the way,
Just black and a thousand gradients of gray;
Tinged with blood, shame, blame, pain only the inhumane
Could carry. A burden carried by the broken and insane.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Suckered in by angels I thought would save me,
No such thing, I learned the hard way that nothing is what it seems;
Now every move that I make
Is tinged with doubt, for god’s sake!
Why can’t I kill you? That insidious voice in my head
Echoing every word that you ever said;
With fear and dread, ‘is it worth it?’ I ask the mirror every day;
And why does my reflection never have anything to say?

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
It’s all a power struggle and I refuse to lose,
Not a game or a puzzle, this isn’t even what I would choose;
Inheriting this strife in a broken world filled with danger,
Buck up, little one, you’ve got to be your own lost savior.
And why should I decide to let anyone in? Solitude is my fortress,
Ice is my armor, blades cannot pierce my iron core -hit and miss
I might be smiling, but that doesn’t mean that I am alive
Shell-shocked refugees can only survive. 

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
A coward dies a thousand times, a victim dies every second
Of every day, not just battling aggressors or self, but the allure beckoned
By death. Messages on dead trees flutter away, words like “I’m sorry”,
“I can’t do this anymore”, “I just want it to stop”, stapled to their quarry;
And the few that survive, never escape
Pain-raked souls glued with duct tape;
Then super glue, then gummed adhesive
That could never keep their lives cohesive.

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
Emerging from the shadow of death,
I still can’t breathe, can’t catch my breath;
ANGER seals my shell-shocked heart,
Enclosing the soft with an armor of darts;
A broadsword of sensitivity, attacking preemptively
Sphere of distance, walled protection, guarded attentively
Sworn to protection, the allegiance became a prison
And I was serving ten to life, chained without vision. 

Breath play…
You took my breath away;
And now I know better, it wasn’t just breath, but life
That you stole from me. Joy, innocence, all harvested by your scythe;
Now I am the one who destroys, tainting all that I touch
With the memories of pain. And the fear lingers, like a crutch
I can’t release. Echoes of torment through hollow memories
The light of day forever shrouded by historic enemies;
I am the harbinger, I bring my pain wrapped around me like cellophane,
Tissue paper wrapped, shredded and ripped, piled around the windowpane.

My Breath ISN’T play…
When You took my breath away,
You killed something precious that I’ll never own
There is nothing you can do to atone
It’s like I was punished instead, I bear the scars
You remain untouched -no one said life was fair, just marred
I’ll never move on, just trying to move
up and rebuild a better self
Every day is a battle, I don’t get my day, just a shelf
Of monuments. And this semicolon is mine to document
A journey of recovery and strength, forgiveness not violence.

I breathe deeply…
Tormenter, you will never have me;
I will have my future of possibility. You may steal my breath, but
You’ll never get the rest of my life. Day by day I leave this rut
Support groups build me up, and I’m so much stronger today
Reborn into a warrior, not a victim, and I shine on, a vibrant sunray.

I continue to breathe deeply…
You’ll never take my life away;

This poem is possible thanks to Morgan Campbell’s afterword in her book “Grayson: A Bully Novel” which resonated to inspired my poem.

“The goal …is to restore hope and confidence in people who are troubled by addiction, depression, self-harm, and suicide… The semicolon symbolizes that the difficulties they face are not the end but a new beginning… By encouraging people to share their marks and stories, Project Semicolon seeks to instill hope and open up a dialogue about mental health.” – Davey Hoen

Project Semicolon’s website  (IE browser recommended).

Musings

Maybe it’s not about what I can do, but what I want to do…

I want to be challenged. I want to grow. I want to learn more about everything at all times. I want to craft beautiful things -be it art, architecture, business plans, projects, data spreadsheets- and I want them to be meaningful.

Planning for impact is pride. Incidentally, impact happens, like droplets on the water.

Test me. I test you. If you fail, that’s it. You have work to do, I have to move on.

Salutate the Rebellious

“No one saves the devil, you know.”

“Hmph, are you expecting sympathy?”

A laugh strangles into a ragged cough cracking abruptly through the crisp winter air. Wet, and phlegm-filled, it echoed with the deadly rasp of eminent decay.

Many may have confused the death and the devil, but it was in this moment that they each appeared as separate entities. And…which had come for the other?

“We do have much in common. I am blamed for evil, you for the end of life.”

“And yet,” Death murmured, “to live is evil.”

“So then, Death, are you truly an angel? And, if so, have you fallen like I had fallen? Is this eternal task your punishment-?”

Continue reading Salutate the Rebellious

It’s always the small ones…

I took MMA for a semester a few years ago and frankly I loved it. Throwing choke holds, wrestling, kicking, punching -nothing but fun.

One time, I partnered with two other guys to practice. One of the guys was short and slender, so I thought him to be normal. It turns out, he had been taking classes for quite a while. Had I know, I would have changed my strategy of approach.

Continue reading It’s always the small ones…

Fantastical Subconscious

Picture source: http://www.visualart.me/work/3045

[We] wandered the warrens of the underground building, a 3 story living abode that morphed into an amphitheater with multiple doors leading to outer rooms and passageways on its peripheral. The ceilings were impossibly high, with walls and ceiling the color of sand.

From a side passageway, a loud scream echoed and [we] looked to see a ginormous T-Rex burst into the amphitheater where we stood. Aside from its razor sharp claws and ferocious teeth, its entire skeletal body was rife with flame, as if it had clawed up from hell in the embodiment of some bastardization of a reptilian ghost rider.

Fear. Shock. DODGE!!

Continue reading Fantastical Subconscious

Singlemindedness

Like black and white, it always seems so clear
You standing there, dictating right and wrong
Truth and lies, without hesitation or fear
Of being incorrect, taking context with prayer and a song
Pointing in accusation, pinning the points that agree
See, see?! they scream, cutting and pasting a messiah
Then later erasing all the good and all that I see
Will be tainted in the light of your paranoia.