Sunday, April 1, 2012
ehngou
The world is humming beneath my heels, trembling to the sounds of everyone's footsteps and tears.
Why are there so many tears?
And everyone seems to be running.
I am so confused.
Every day dawns and passes
as I stand motionless
and from this peculiar vantage point of static bemusement I see
from the corners of my vision
Their shifting eyes and the apathetic choreography of their footsteps.
The Universal Them is teetering more than I am.
----------
I saw them eventually not as lights, but as candles.
Every few seconds some blew out as others flickered and flared in to existence.
----------
I don't mind who I am,
but I mind what I remember and think.
The problems lie in the systems of thought I have accrued.
"Enough!"
One word.
In the System.
System-ized pathways of abuse.
I'm subscribed to systematic abuse.
System-ized pathways of thoughts that hurt.
Why must I link so much back?
He was right when we spoke that night.
There is something unresolved, a desire, an addiction, something.
"Enough"
I scream.
I scream inside.
I scream inside constantly.
I scream inside constantly.
Which isn't beneficial.
Which isn't quite true.
I forget sometimes and it's lovely.
When it is not I wonder why.
Why must I remember with this much clarity?
It was an accident, I promise.
I didn't really understand what was happening.
That's why.
That's why it all blew up.
That's why I'm clinging and falling and failing.
I want to understand,
and I want to understand more than just me.
I want to understand the why of others and them and her and you.
Why?
I don't understand.
I don't understand the needs and falls and throes of humanities tyrannical fluctuations.
Why?
Enough of the blood and the pain and misdirection.
Enough of the loss and hatred and clos-minded dispositions.
Enough of the solitary confinement and picking, prodding, slapping, twisting, pinching, punching and plasticization.
Enough of the gruesome distortion of everything we should stand for as brothers and sisters.
ENOUGH.
Enough.
NO MORE of your HALF-HEarted lies. No more of your sly fickle movements.
Where is this so-called humanity we are supposed to exemplify. Enough.
You do not display this, none of you, none of us!
ENOUGH.
Why doesn't everyone Look and See and Think before they leap and cavort and slam into others?
Why must they squable petulantly over these seemingly pointless issues?
Why do these petty things concern them?
And WHY do they speak of them to me? ALL the TIME. So and so is blah blahblah blahblah!
And when this blabber comes it's from those who blabber because they cannot think for themsevles, they don't want to think for themselves.
it's the ones that do think that I would like to hear from every now and then.
The people who Don't speak because they are thinking about how to actually fix their problems.
ROAR.
I MEAN, WHY? WHY COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT A PROBLEM IF YOU AREN'T ACTUALLY GOING TO FIX IT? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. STOP WASTING MY TIME.
ENOUGH.
STOP wasting my Time.
I don't want you to come to me with a self-deprecating smile to tell me about how you've most recently screwed up your life (for the six?seventh?twentieth?fiftieth?one-hundredth?), and expect my sympathy, because frankly, I will have a hard time scrounging up some for you. Clearly if you have constantly repeated the actions you perceive to be so damaging to yourself, you really don't care about fixing the issue as much as you claim to care. So, grow up and show a little spine for once in your life. If you actually care about what you've pretended to care about for this long, have the courage to grasp your life like the rumpled, knotted bed sheet it is and unravel the knots, shake out the critters, throw it in the washing machine w/ soap, then throw it in the dryer or pin it to the clothesline. When it has dried snap out a few of the wrinkles and then whisk it onver your mattress. Remake your bed, remake your life. If it is so upsetting, change it; if it's not, stop complaining to me about it and go send your spam mail to an actual garbage bin, rather than another human being.
I am tired of being a human trash can.
And I am utterly sick, physically sick by the weakness of humans, all of us.
What are we?
Who are you?
Why do they never understand the question? Why?
Tears, I cry about this sometimes.
Why don't they understand the question? It's so simple.
Do you know who you are?
Who are you?
Answer: [insert your name here.]
DUH!
Why does no one understand that question?
Their answers! Laughable!
"What do you mean?"
"I don't understand."
"In what sense?"
I understand what each person means, but I still can't truly conceive why no one seems to be able to comprehend that the question could be phrased at the most basic and honest level.
It's not a BS answer question. I want the most honest answer you can give me, so give me your name. That's likely the closest you'll get to true honesty.
Try.
I have faith.
Try.
Because I am sick of these BS answers. Answer honestly and tell me what you truly feel and try actually thinking for once. Please. Please.
I have faith in your ability to think.
But I don't believe you ever will.
HAHAHA.
And, planet of humanity, I'm beginning to not care. I'm beginning to give up on you. I'm beginning to give up on the hope of a sizable number of people being able to actually think through their lives.
I think I'm beginning to despair of ever being able to comprehend mine.
I need to hear a steady heart beat, or at least feel one, even if it means pressing my hand to my chest constantly to feel the pu-pound of life, the assurance that this is all real.
I'm floating through life, and my dreams are washing over me and into my realities and my realities are becoming dreams in this caterwauling nightmare. My life is one of my nightmares, one of my re-occuring nightmares, and I've yet to find the key to re-writing the code behind it. My life. My life?
I need something more than this. I need a nightly dance before a bonfire to tribal drums and raucous chanting. I need something more inside than the emptiness that is sucking my ribs down, and I need a viable way to express my anger. A viable way to convert this suppressed rage into something positive and constructive.
Because right now I alternately fly through life with fearsome ferocity and fall to the ground beneath the weight of thousands of fallacies.
Enough.
Heh. Alliteration. I <3 alliteration no matter the level of corniness.
Why are there so many tears?
And everyone seems to be running.
I am so confused.
Every day dawns and passes
as I stand motionless
and from this peculiar vantage point of static bemusement I see
from the corners of my vision
Their shifting eyes and the apathetic choreography of their footsteps.
The Universal Them is teetering more than I am.
----------
I saw them eventually not as lights, but as candles.
Every few seconds some blew out as others flickered and flared in to existence.
----------
I don't mind who I am,
but I mind what I remember and think.
The problems lie in the systems of thought I have accrued.
"Enough!"
One word.
In the System.
System-ized pathways of abuse.
I'm subscribed to systematic abuse.
System-ized pathways of thoughts that hurt.
Why must I link so much back?
He was right when we spoke that night.
There is something unresolved, a desire, an addiction, something.
"Enough"
I scream.
I scream inside.
I scream inside constantly.
I scream inside constantly.
Which isn't beneficial.
Which isn't quite true.
I forget sometimes and it's lovely.
When it is not I wonder why.
Why must I remember with this much clarity?
It was an accident, I promise.
I didn't really understand what was happening.
That's why.
That's why it all blew up.
That's why I'm clinging and falling and failing.
I want to understand,
and I want to understand more than just me.
I want to understand the why of others and them and her and you.
Why?
I don't understand.
I don't understand the needs and falls and throes of humanities tyrannical fluctuations.
Why?
Enough of the blood and the pain and misdirection.
Enough of the loss and hatred and clos-minded dispositions.
Enough of the solitary confinement and picking, prodding, slapping, twisting, pinching, punching and plasticization.
Enough of the gruesome distortion of everything we should stand for as brothers and sisters.
ENOUGH.
Enough.
NO MORE of your HALF-HEarted lies. No more of your sly fickle movements.
Where is this so-called humanity we are supposed to exemplify. Enough.
You do not display this, none of you, none of us!
ENOUGH.
Why doesn't everyone Look and See and Think before they leap and cavort and slam into others?
Why must they squable petulantly over these seemingly pointless issues?
Why do these petty things concern them?
And WHY do they speak of them to me? ALL the TIME. So and so is blah blahblah blahblah!
And when this blabber comes it's from those who blabber because they cannot think for themsevles, they don't want to think for themselves.
it's the ones that do think that I would like to hear from every now and then.
The people who Don't speak because they are thinking about how to actually fix their problems.
ROAR.
I MEAN, WHY? WHY COMPLAIN TO ME ABOUT A PROBLEM IF YOU AREN'T ACTUALLY GOING TO FIX IT? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. STOP WASTING MY TIME.
ENOUGH.
STOP wasting my Time.
I don't want you to come to me with a self-deprecating smile to tell me about how you've most recently screwed up your life (for the six?seventh?twentieth?fiftieth?one-hundredth?), and expect my sympathy, because frankly, I will have a hard time scrounging up some for you. Clearly if you have constantly repeated the actions you perceive to be so damaging to yourself, you really don't care about fixing the issue as much as you claim to care. So, grow up and show a little spine for once in your life. If you actually care about what you've pretended to care about for this long, have the courage to grasp your life like the rumpled, knotted bed sheet it is and unravel the knots, shake out the critters, throw it in the washing machine w/ soap, then throw it in the dryer or pin it to the clothesline. When it has dried snap out a few of the wrinkles and then whisk it onver your mattress. Remake your bed, remake your life. If it is so upsetting, change it; if it's not, stop complaining to me about it and go send your spam mail to an actual garbage bin, rather than another human being.
I am tired of being a human trash can.
And I am utterly sick, physically sick by the weakness of humans, all of us.
What are we?
Who are you?
Why do they never understand the question? Why?
Tears, I cry about this sometimes.
Why don't they understand the question? It's so simple.
Do you know who you are?
Who are you?
Answer: [insert your name here.]
DUH!
Why does no one understand that question?
Their answers! Laughable!
"What do you mean?"
"I don't understand."
"In what sense?"
I understand what each person means, but I still can't truly conceive why no one seems to be able to comprehend that the question could be phrased at the most basic and honest level.
It's not a BS answer question. I want the most honest answer you can give me, so give me your name. That's likely the closest you'll get to true honesty.
Try.
I have faith.
Try.
Because I am sick of these BS answers. Answer honestly and tell me what you truly feel and try actually thinking for once. Please. Please.
I have faith in your ability to think.
But I don't believe you ever will.
HAHAHA.
And, planet of humanity, I'm beginning to not care. I'm beginning to give up on you. I'm beginning to give up on the hope of a sizable number of people being able to actually think through their lives.
I think I'm beginning to despair of ever being able to comprehend mine.
I need to hear a steady heart beat, or at least feel one, even if it means pressing my hand to my chest constantly to feel the pu-pound of life, the assurance that this is all real.
I'm floating through life, and my dreams are washing over me and into my realities and my realities are becoming dreams in this caterwauling nightmare. My life is one of my nightmares, one of my re-occuring nightmares, and I've yet to find the key to re-writing the code behind it. My life. My life?
I need something more than this. I need a nightly dance before a bonfire to tribal drums and raucous chanting. I need something more inside than the emptiness that is sucking my ribs down, and I need a viable way to express my anger. A viable way to convert this suppressed rage into something positive and constructive.
Because right now I alternately fly through life with fearsome ferocity and fall to the ground beneath the weight of thousands of fallacies.
Enough.
Heh. Alliteration. I <3 alliteration no matter the level of corniness.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
deep but dazzling darkness
I glimpsed Eternity the other night
like a ring of pure and endless light,
becalmed, divine insight
and round beneath it Time, in hours, days, years,
empowered by the spheres
like a vast shadow trailed, in which the world
and all her claim were hurled.
There is in God some say
a deep but dazzling darkness
a bottomless well of significance
a velvet death to pride
There stood the King of glory on his throne
the motes of starlight trembled, dimly shone
pure, resounding, infinite tone
their silent song of praise heartfelt response
awestruck by majesty
O for that endless night where I in Him
might rest invisible and dim
like a ring of pure and endless light,
becalmed, divine insight
and round beneath it Time, in hours, days, years,
empowered by the spheres
like a vast shadow trailed, in which the world
and all her claim were hurled.
There is in God some say
a deep but dazzling darkness
a bottomless well of significance
a velvet death to pride
There stood the King of glory on his throne
the motes of starlight trembled, dimly shone
pure, resounding, infinite tone
their silent song of praise heartfelt response
awestruck by majesty
O for that endless night where I in Him
might rest invisible and dim
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Resignation
I'm done.
I'm turning in my badge,
my stethoscope,
my x-ray and hammer,
my paints and paintbrushes,
my dagger,
my dirk,
my running shoes,
my pencils,
my books,
my food,
my water,
my shade
and last of all my warmth.
I resign.
Thank you for promoting my brief stay/employment.
Mercy.
I'm turning in my badge,
my stethoscope,
my x-ray and hammer,
my paints and paintbrushes,
my dagger,
my dirk,
my running shoes,
my pencils,
my books,
my food,
my water,
my shade
and last of all my warmth.
I resign.
Thank you for promoting my brief stay/employment.
Mercy.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Traveling
They said it would be a walk to remember,
the voices in my head.
They were right of course;
They always are.
the voices in my head.
They were right of course;
They always are.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
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