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.

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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.