I wrote this in 2002 during another one of my pondering moments on the meaning of life; the sense of something much greater than myself out there in the dark depths of space governed by laws of relativity; the feeling that we were placed here by a higher authority and should be complacent with our surroundings and what we've been given. That was my view (and sometimes still is) of Life and Divinity paired with stars, deep space and the couriosity thereof. Of all the aforemetioned- this little story was conceived.
___________________________________________________
MyWorld-
Oh, here she comes again. Sun-up? I suppose so. Earthquake. Oh my. Shake-shake-shake. Here we go again- Snowfall. The snow is falling once again as I remain here; as I have always been; as I always will be. The snow is nice as the chunks come down gracefully. To my right- my house; to my left- my green tree. This is my serenity. This is my sanctuary. This is my shrine. This is sometimes my bugbear. This is my world. The snowfall is coming to its end.
“Must keep shoveling,” I tell myself.
I would like to yell, but I can’t. Oh, why can’t I just yell out once? Please?
The weather is nice. I think it’s cold. I really don’t know. I really can’t tell. But from what I view, the weather is nice.
“Hey snowman! How are you today?”
Is it today? What day is it anyway? So hard to tell with the inconsistent patterns of sunlight.
The sky is clear and the ground is hard.
Sunset? It must be.
Lights out!
Once again, it is dark. I long for slumber, but this catatonic stupor has me feeling a bit stiff.
“Must keep shoveling.”
This dark state surrounding me has me thinking a bit pensively. I hate having too much time to think. I shouldn’t be thinking. I should keep shoveling. I wonder what the weather’s like outside? It’s so hard to tell from in here. Is it really possible to live in this H2O inundated milieu? No, wait. This is life. It has to be life. Will it snow again? Why can’t things just be consistent? I think I’m happy. But I’m not too sure.
“Hey snowman! Are you happy? Will you come help me shovel some snow?”
I want to see the inside of my house. The lights seem to be on, but I don’t remember leaving them on. I don’t remember even being in there to leave the lights on.
“Hello! Is someone in my house?”
Is there a thief in my house? Is there a vagabond? A vagrant in my house stealing my food or my belongings? Wait, what belongings do I have in there?
“Snowman? Do you know if I have any belongings in my house? Do you know if I have any food? How long have I been out here shoveling snow?”
He just looks at me. Why won’t he answer me? I think I’m beginning to feel cold now. I must smile. Life is good. I have much to be grateful for. I must be happy. I have so much to be grateful for.
There must be more out there. Where is it all?
“Hello?”
No answer. I don’t like it here. I don’t like it here at all. The tree seems to be happy. How can a tree be so green in the height of winter? Where’s the wind. So green.
“Snowman. Who made you? Did I make you? Did I make you before I started shoveling snow?”
He just looks at me and doesn’t answer. Now I’m sad. I’m so sad.
“Must keep shoveling.”
I work for no man. Or do I? I want to move. I want to move so badly. Why can’t I move? Why oh why can I not move? I must keep smiling and shoveling my snow. I always smile. I was made to smile. I must keep smiling and continue to shovel my snow. The snow never ends here. Everyone knows the snow always continues. The snow is the most consistent thing around these parts. I want to see what’s on the outside.
“I don’t suppose you would know what’s on the outside, would you, tree?”
No, I didn’t think so. Life is rapture- pure ebullient rapture. I know life is good. It has to be good. That’s the only way life can be.
Sun-up? Lights on!
“Must keep shoveling!”
Usually when the sun comes up, it snows. I haven’t shoveled enough! Please! No snow yet! I’ll work faster! I promise! Please, just let me catch up! Please! I will double my efforts. Oh no….here comes the large cloud again. Ok, brace yourselves tree and snowman!
“Hold tight tree! Hold tight snowman! It’s going to snow again!”
It always quakes before it snows. Oh, how I hate it when the earth shakes and quakes. Why must there be pain and discomfort before the joy and happiness? Oh, why-why-why-why?
Here it comes! Earthquake! Shake-shake-shake-shake!!
This is harsh! No more shake, please! I will shovel faster. Stop! I must keep smiling. I’m happy. I know I’m happy. I have so much to be happy about. Life is good- even when the earth shakes and I’m not so happy. I must be happy. I know I must. No, I don’t know why. But I will keep smiling.
Thank god- The earthquake has stopped. Once again, here comes the snow. Ah. So lovely. I love it when it snows.
“Must shovel faster!”
I can’t let the snow pile up. I will beat it this time.
There must be more to this. There must be more outside. This can’t be all to this world. I should be happy in my world, right? Right?! Then I will be shoveling more, faster and I will be happy. I always smile. I will always smile. Because I am happy. I think. I would really like to go inside my house now and rest.
“Must keep shoveling….faster.”
I will be ready for the next earthquake. The ground is so hard. I will smile; I will work harder; I will be happy; I will keep shoveling my snow. One day, I will see the inside of my home.
Sunset?
The light is gone again. My sky is so clear. All is quiet in my world. I am alone in my world. But I will be happy. I cannot complain; I will not complain. I have my friend the snowman and I have a very lovely house and I have a very nice green tree. Life is good in my world.
Life is very good in my world……I think. Sigh.
“Must keep shoveling……………………………………………………………………”
And somewhere in the near distant universe, a mother tucks her five year old daughter into bed and kisses her good night. As the mother embraces her, she whispers to the little girl,
“Merry Christmas honey.”
She responds,
“I love you mommy. And mommy, thank you so very much for the little toy you gave me. I love the little boy and the snowman. And the little boy always smiles when it snows. I love it. It makes so very happy.”
She smiles. Mommy smiles as she kisses the little girl’s red-colored nose. And of to the left, a long universe away on a little play-desk rests a snow-globe. And from that little snow-globe you can hear the tiny words of a tiny life resonating……
“Must keep shoveling. Must be happy. The sun will soon rise. Must work faster. I am happy. This is my world. I am happy…….I am happy………am I happy?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wednesday Study and Muse
I won second place Prose division with this blurb about me watching people walking by my window at the Pan Am library while taking a study break. I know- presumptuous and generalized, but funny.
As I sit here in my comfortable seat (the one I usually occupy) here in the trusty noise-free first floor of the library at the University, I gaze wantonly out the window and my mind takes on a pensive mode. I stare out towards the long corridor that provides the clones a walkway to their next class. The clones, you ask? Why, let me indulge you on this brief insight. The clones are those who are unsuspectingly snatched up from their walk by an unforgiving, relentless and demanding fashion entity. They are then brainwashed and stripped of their own constitution and free will and transformed into a slave to the fashion and social likings or norm of the scene. There usually is no escape from this unwanted (I’m almost positive it is) enslavement of fashion. Any sights of emancipation from this grip are farfetched. The conspiracy tries them, and the verdict strips them to the bone of any originality they once possessed. A man once said, “When a man can no longer choose, a man ceases to be a man.” I won’t tell you who it was, but if you know- then you know. Well put, that quote is. Clones, therefore, are a new breed wondering about, erratically, spreading attitude and advertising the works of their new Messiah (unwillingly, I’m almost positive). Trust me friends when I tell you that it is more contagious than a cold!
Clones are your everyday average “Joe”. But to further explain how common and camouflaged they truly are on the social grounds, I will point out a few that I have, with my weak sense of sight and smell, spotted unsuspectingly and without notice. I cannot help but to leer at this accomplishment. (Sometimes I can be so slick!!). The clones consist of: the successful people; the simple people; the flashy people; the insecure overly-dressed people; the angst-ridden, black-dark poetry writing, purple hairdo, torn hose, combat boot (especially the black ones) wearing, “I play a guitar to punish my mom!!” (God bless Pink Floyd) although I suck, but what the hell, it’s loud and noisy thinking, patches on the backpack next to the anarchy logos boasting free-speech and free-will using, agnostic, or simply atheist, “I can’t change the world, and the world won’t stare me in the eye, so I refuse to take part- but I will express and yell out my concerns to the clouds- my listeners, (expressing means so much to this group); the rambunctious nationals from Mexico (the largest amount of cloning is seen in this group and the Fashion State seems to favor cloning in this group), as they smoke and inhale their long trails of cigarette smoke (it is to my firm belief that if you could make or transverse all the miasma these clones inhale on a daily average into a line, we could walk on it to the moon.), they flick their used butts over and past the most conveniently, placed only two feet away from them, for some ungodly known reason, (sarcasm), little red barrel with sand in it marked, “CIGARETTE BUTT DISPENSER” in large unison. Next cigarette “Bueys!!”; introverted individuals; strutting jocks who boast about how far or fast they can throw or fetch and retrieve a ball (hmmmm, brag about that? My dog is a jock.); the geeks who like to use big words to intimidate the meek for reassurance that their presence here is not, after all, that much of a waste of time and space, (“Flex your brain” as my Dad would say.); the gyrating, too tight fitting attire wearing, “I know you’re looking at me, I can see the river of drool behind you and I like it and I will sleep much better tonight!!”, thinking girlies who like to intimidate and tease dumbfounded fools who cannot do a lick of anything about it but dream and suffer while pondering what it would be like to go out on a date with this “Barbie”, (the Fashion State most cruelly punish these clones paradoxically by lowering their IQ’s immensely and without remorse); the heavy starched, boot wearing, too big of a Stetson on the head, cowboys (who have never rode on a horse, but still wear the attire, AND THEY DRIVE A CAR!!!! BLASPHEME!!)…………………You get the point!!
So, the clones are walking on as I stare. Heading to their classes, marching in unison under a two-way corridor. (I swear I see the barcodes on the backs of their necks!)
Ants on a trail these clones are. Ants governed by Fashion and Superfluities. Take away the gruesome and constricting ground rules laid upon these poor, depraved beasts by the Fashion Messiah and they are just like you and I. Take caution, though, as you approach a clone. They possess a poisonous attitude that will make you feel smaller than starving pseudopodia! (You know what attitude I’m talking about). Smile at an oncoming clone and watch the eyes look the other way as if that ugly, featherless, malnourished crow that just picked up a left over, almost completely devoured pizza crust from the ground (probably discarded by one after seeing the dripping grease and imagining what it would do to their still “non-pinchable waist), is all of a sudden more important in their field of view. Now do you recognize that look? I thought so.
Anyhow, the ants on the trail are dissipating. That is to say, friends, that they’ve reached their destinations. I mean, they’re in class. Right? Oh well, I stare on. Looking out and about for my inspiration. (What a teasing ritual this is!!) This muse, which flies and hovers in front of me just far enough to be out of my reach, toying with my wanton mind, flies with its multi-colored (yellow, with spots of black) wings fluttering, is prone to my conscious net! (I need Raid!) What I’m trying to say is, I’m staring into space looking for a Super Nova wearing tight jeans and a tight t-shirt to cross into my line of sight! (Oops, did I say that out loud?) For the love of God, I need an inspiration!!
So, I’m contemplating my next move, chess king. And now, I am reflecting, HARDCORE!! I think of my next possible move. “Next step please!!” the impatient attendant in my head behind the counter with bars above it in front of her face yells out to me. I’ve got it now!! I’ll read!! I’ll do just what I came here to do!! Here, once more, back in my comfortable, noise free, study room on the first floor of the library at the University, (after my mental celestial journey), which has now attracted the likings of about fifteen more people. Whoo Hooo!! Full house!! Bring out the chips and beer boys!!………………Oh wait, I can’t do that. (Must study…) These temporary subliminal penetrations are such a distraction, yes they are. As Yoda would say, “Yes, study I must. Mm! Ponder no more, I mustn’t. Mm!” God bless Yoda and his queer, peculiar, morphology. (I like it!!) As I decide with hesitation (but, I must) to study, I look once more out the window at the corridor (this window is poison!!) and stare once more at the disappearing clones and ponder some more. The clones look back at me and gaze. I must seem inferior to these poor bastards! They forgot what originality is, and when they see it, it violates their social beliefs. (I’m sorry!) For one brief moment of solitude, the clones and I bond. They get a glimpse of what realism is, and I get a glimpse of what fantasy and falsity is. The Fashion State is attempting to penetrate my pure being. So, I unlock my stare with these clones. (Remember I said it was more contagious than a cold!!) I casually brush off the virus of an influence and stay true to myself. (I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do!! I do!! I do!!) I will not succumb to the chain wearing, ultra-seducing, Fashion Messiah with long, cold, and clutching steel arms lurching for unsuspecting dwindling cats on the walk. I’m much stronger than that, my friends. (At least, my walk tells me that.) Anyhow, I leave YOU to ponder on that. Now, I must tend to my studies.
As I sit here in my comfortable seat (the one I usually occupy) here in the trusty noise-free first floor of the library at the University, I gaze wantonly out the window and my mind takes on a pensive mode. I stare out towards the long corridor that provides the clones a walkway to their next class. The clones, you ask? Why, let me indulge you on this brief insight. The clones are those who are unsuspectingly snatched up from their walk by an unforgiving, relentless and demanding fashion entity. They are then brainwashed and stripped of their own constitution and free will and transformed into a slave to the fashion and social likings or norm of the scene. There usually is no escape from this unwanted (I’m almost positive it is) enslavement of fashion. Any sights of emancipation from this grip are farfetched. The conspiracy tries them, and the verdict strips them to the bone of any originality they once possessed. A man once said, “When a man can no longer choose, a man ceases to be a man.” I won’t tell you who it was, but if you know- then you know. Well put, that quote is. Clones, therefore, are a new breed wondering about, erratically, spreading attitude and advertising the works of their new Messiah (unwillingly, I’m almost positive). Trust me friends when I tell you that it is more contagious than a cold!
Clones are your everyday average “Joe”. But to further explain how common and camouflaged they truly are on the social grounds, I will point out a few that I have, with my weak sense of sight and smell, spotted unsuspectingly and without notice. I cannot help but to leer at this accomplishment. (Sometimes I can be so slick!!). The clones consist of: the successful people; the simple people; the flashy people; the insecure overly-dressed people; the angst-ridden, black-dark poetry writing, purple hairdo, torn hose, combat boot (especially the black ones) wearing, “I play a guitar to punish my mom!!” (God bless Pink Floyd) although I suck, but what the hell, it’s loud and noisy thinking, patches on the backpack next to the anarchy logos boasting free-speech and free-will using, agnostic, or simply atheist, “I can’t change the world, and the world won’t stare me in the eye, so I refuse to take part- but I will express and yell out my concerns to the clouds- my listeners, (expressing means so much to this group); the rambunctious nationals from Mexico (the largest amount of cloning is seen in this group and the Fashion State seems to favor cloning in this group), as they smoke and inhale their long trails of cigarette smoke (it is to my firm belief that if you could make or transverse all the miasma these clones inhale on a daily average into a line, we could walk on it to the moon.), they flick their used butts over and past the most conveniently, placed only two feet away from them, for some ungodly known reason, (sarcasm), little red barrel with sand in it marked, “CIGARETTE BUTT DISPENSER” in large unison. Next cigarette “Bueys!!”; introverted individuals; strutting jocks who boast about how far or fast they can throw or fetch and retrieve a ball (hmmmm, brag about that? My dog is a jock.); the geeks who like to use big words to intimidate the meek for reassurance that their presence here is not, after all, that much of a waste of time and space, (“Flex your brain” as my Dad would say.); the gyrating, too tight fitting attire wearing, “I know you’re looking at me, I can see the river of drool behind you and I like it and I will sleep much better tonight!!”, thinking girlies who like to intimidate and tease dumbfounded fools who cannot do a lick of anything about it but dream and suffer while pondering what it would be like to go out on a date with this “Barbie”, (the Fashion State most cruelly punish these clones paradoxically by lowering their IQ’s immensely and without remorse); the heavy starched, boot wearing, too big of a Stetson on the head, cowboys (who have never rode on a horse, but still wear the attire, AND THEY DRIVE A CAR!!!! BLASPHEME!!)…………………You get the point!!
So, the clones are walking on as I stare. Heading to their classes, marching in unison under a two-way corridor. (I swear I see the barcodes on the backs of their necks!)
Ants on a trail these clones are. Ants governed by Fashion and Superfluities. Take away the gruesome and constricting ground rules laid upon these poor, depraved beasts by the Fashion Messiah and they are just like you and I. Take caution, though, as you approach a clone. They possess a poisonous attitude that will make you feel smaller than starving pseudopodia! (You know what attitude I’m talking about). Smile at an oncoming clone and watch the eyes look the other way as if that ugly, featherless, malnourished crow that just picked up a left over, almost completely devoured pizza crust from the ground (probably discarded by one after seeing the dripping grease and imagining what it would do to their still “non-pinchable waist), is all of a sudden more important in their field of view. Now do you recognize that look? I thought so.
Anyhow, the ants on the trail are dissipating. That is to say, friends, that they’ve reached their destinations. I mean, they’re in class. Right? Oh well, I stare on. Looking out and about for my inspiration. (What a teasing ritual this is!!) This muse, which flies and hovers in front of me just far enough to be out of my reach, toying with my wanton mind, flies with its multi-colored (yellow, with spots of black) wings fluttering, is prone to my conscious net! (I need Raid!) What I’m trying to say is, I’m staring into space looking for a Super Nova wearing tight jeans and a tight t-shirt to cross into my line of sight! (Oops, did I say that out loud?) For the love of God, I need an inspiration!!
So, I’m contemplating my next move, chess king. And now, I am reflecting, HARDCORE!! I think of my next possible move. “Next step please!!” the impatient attendant in my head behind the counter with bars above it in front of her face yells out to me. I’ve got it now!! I’ll read!! I’ll do just what I came here to do!! Here, once more, back in my comfortable, noise free, study room on the first floor of the library at the University, (after my mental celestial journey), which has now attracted the likings of about fifteen more people. Whoo Hooo!! Full house!! Bring out the chips and beer boys!!………………Oh wait, I can’t do that. (Must study…) These temporary subliminal penetrations are such a distraction, yes they are. As Yoda would say, “Yes, study I must. Mm! Ponder no more, I mustn’t. Mm!” God bless Yoda and his queer, peculiar, morphology. (I like it!!) As I decide with hesitation (but, I must) to study, I look once more out the window at the corridor (this window is poison!!) and stare once more at the disappearing clones and ponder some more. The clones look back at me and gaze. I must seem inferior to these poor bastards! They forgot what originality is, and when they see it, it violates their social beliefs. (I’m sorry!) For one brief moment of solitude, the clones and I bond. They get a glimpse of what realism is, and I get a glimpse of what fantasy and falsity is. The Fashion State is attempting to penetrate my pure being. So, I unlock my stare with these clones. (Remember I said it was more contagious than a cold!!) I casually brush off the virus of an influence and stay true to myself. (I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do believe in spooks!! I do!! I do!! I do!!) I will not succumb to the chain wearing, ultra-seducing, Fashion Messiah with long, cold, and clutching steel arms lurching for unsuspecting dwindling cats on the walk. I’m much stronger than that, my friends. (At least, my walk tells me that.) Anyhow, I leave YOU to ponder on that. Now, I must tend to my studies.
On Life II
Same thing, just refined.
One of the most arduous questions in life that I have yet to comprehend, and has constantly thrown me into the ebb of confusion is simply that of: What is Life? This insidious notion whirling in my brain vexes me and forces the regurgitated, at this moment, answer-less demurrer to ponder endlessly without rest. The general concept of what “man-made” or “man-governed” life is is single-handedly understood. But, what are the true motives behind this issue at hand? What comes as our general purpose living through this vacuum of thoughts, emotions and experiences? Each living creature in this biosphere of subsequent activities serves its general purpose. For example- our solar source feeds plants through photosynthesis, our Rodents, Leporidae, and Bovine devour the grass; the Carnivores gormandize the Bovines, the Rodents, and the Leporidae, and so on, and so on. Many people generally run their lives under a hallmark assumption or belief that their purpose in life is to inure sufficient monetary income throughout their life span in order to celebrate in the end a sublime of gratifying mayhem. Why must we constantly be faced with a challenge? Life has become too complex; we are ironically faced with our own self-instigated drawbacks. To push our selves against a wall, so to say, seems to be our instinct or pre ordained destiny to subsequently preoccupy our everyday activities with. It is of my firm belief that the root and cause of all evil ultimately is money. Ironically, money is man made and ultimately the cause of our gradual demise. Our GREAT (if that word be suffice or the proper word) wars were conceived through direct results of monetary reasoning or in one way or another, through monetary haggling over land or any other issue in which monetary value was present. Ultimately, the malicious activities henceforth, sprouted from monetary influence. Jealousy and hatred have consummated and intertwined themselves to our moral state of thought through the influence of monetary value and worth. As a direct result, stress clinches on and joins in on the orgy of moral deterioration. All through the malevolent, inept, and rogue like attempts to claim one’s share of the pie, if you will. And in the end, one question still stands: “ What have we gained?” Why is it that we must feel content laying on our deathbed with the sole conviction that we have accomplished something so falsely appealing and inuring to life’s true and realistic desires? Superfluities have controlled and steered our ways of life as Humans. In one basic generalized concept, we do not live as we are meant to live. We clumsily live our lives striving, pushing, dragging our arms in the dirt, leaving tracks as we slowly tread onward going slower as the sun sinks and draws the evening closer. Is life a perfect model of Darwinism at its finest? Are we striving to be the strongest and aptly ready to dismiss the weak as a flake of burnt weightless, black paper in the state of ash? If so, what have we ultimately strived for? Thin fine slices of cured wood that has dominated, manipulated and controlled our directions and destiny?
One of the most arduous questions in life that I have yet to comprehend, and has constantly thrown me into the ebb of confusion is simply that of: What is Life? This insidious notion whirling in my brain vexes me and forces the regurgitated, at this moment, answer-less demurrer to ponder endlessly without rest. The general concept of what “man-made” or “man-governed” life is is single-handedly understood. But, what are the true motives behind this issue at hand? What comes as our general purpose living through this vacuum of thoughts, emotions and experiences? Each living creature in this biosphere of subsequent activities serves its general purpose. For example- our solar source feeds plants through photosynthesis, our Rodents, Leporidae, and Bovine devour the grass; the Carnivores gormandize the Bovines, the Rodents, and the Leporidae, and so on, and so on. Many people generally run their lives under a hallmark assumption or belief that their purpose in life is to inure sufficient monetary income throughout their life span in order to celebrate in the end a sublime of gratifying mayhem. Why must we constantly be faced with a challenge? Life has become too complex; we are ironically faced with our own self-instigated drawbacks. To push our selves against a wall, so to say, seems to be our instinct or pre ordained destiny to subsequently preoccupy our everyday activities with. It is of my firm belief that the root and cause of all evil ultimately is money. Ironically, money is man made and ultimately the cause of our gradual demise. Our GREAT (if that word be suffice or the proper word) wars were conceived through direct results of monetary reasoning or in one way or another, through monetary haggling over land or any other issue in which monetary value was present. Ultimately, the malicious activities henceforth, sprouted from monetary influence. Jealousy and hatred have consummated and intertwined themselves to our moral state of thought through the influence of monetary value and worth. As a direct result, stress clinches on and joins in on the orgy of moral deterioration. All through the malevolent, inept, and rogue like attempts to claim one’s share of the pie, if you will. And in the end, one question still stands: “ What have we gained?” Why is it that we must feel content laying on our deathbed with the sole conviction that we have accomplished something so falsely appealing and inuring to life’s true and realistic desires? Superfluities have controlled and steered our ways of life as Humans. In one basic generalized concept, we do not live as we are meant to live. We clumsily live our lives striving, pushing, dragging our arms in the dirt, leaving tracks as we slowly tread onward going slower as the sun sinks and draws the evening closer. Is life a perfect model of Darwinism at its finest? Are we striving to be the strongest and aptly ready to dismiss the weak as a flake of burnt weightless, black paper in the state of ash? If so, what have we ultimately strived for? Thin fine slices of cured wood that has dominated, manipulated and controlled our directions and destiny?
On Life
I wrote this, also in high school- probably upset at a bad grade or at my inability to do well in school.
One of the most arduous questions in life that I have yet to conquer, and has constantly thrown me into the ebb of tranquility is simply that of; “What is Life?” This insidious notion whirling in my brain vexes me and forces the regurgitated, at this moment, answer-less demurrer to ponder endlessly without rest. I have a general idea on what “man-made” or “man-governed” life is. But what are the true intentions behind this issue at hand? What is our general purpose at hand through this vacuum of thoughts and emotions and experiences? Each living creature in this biosphere of subsequent activities serves a general purpose. For example, our solar source feeds plants through photosynthesis, our Rodents, Leporidae, and Bovine devour the grass; the Carnivores gormandize the Bovines, the Rodents, and the Leporidae, and so on, and so on. Many people generally run their lives under the basic assumption or belief that their purpose in life is to generate sufficient monetary income throughout their life span in order to celebrate in the end a sublime of gratifying mayhem. Why must we constantly be faced with a challenge? Life has become too complex and we are ironically faced with our own self-instigated drawbacks. To push our selves against a wall, so to say, seems to be our only outlet or pre ordained destiny to subsequently preoccupy our everyday activities with. It is of my firm belief that the root and cause of all evil ultimately is money. Ironically, money is man made and is ultimately the cause of our gradual demise. Our great (if that word is suffice or proper) wars were born as a direct result of monetary reasoning or in one way or another through monetary haggling over land or any other issue in which monetary value was present. Ultimately, the malicious activities henceforth, sprouted from monetary influence. Jealousy and hatred have consumed and intertwined themselves to our moral state of thought through the influence of monetary value and worth. As a direct result, stress clinches on and joins in on the party of moral deterioration. All through the malevolent, inept, and rogue like attempt to one’s share of the pie, if you will. And in the end, one question still stands: “ What have we gained?” Why is it that we must feel content on our deathbed with the sole belief that we accomplished something so artificial and inuring to life’s true desires? Superfluities have controlled and steered our ways of life as Homo Sapiens. In a basic generalized concept, we do not live as we are meant to live. We clumsily spend live our lives striving, pushing, dragging our arms in the dirt, leaving tracks as we slowly tread onward going slower as the sun sinks and draws the evening closer. Is life a perfect model of Darwinism at its finest? Are we striving to be the strongest and aptly ready to dismiss the weak as a flake of burnt weightless, black burnt paper in the state of ash? If so, what is the strive ultimately for? Thin fine slices of cured wood that has dominated, manipulated and controlled our directions and destiny? On life…………………………
One of the most arduous questions in life that I have yet to conquer, and has constantly thrown me into the ebb of tranquility is simply that of; “What is Life?” This insidious notion whirling in my brain vexes me and forces the regurgitated, at this moment, answer-less demurrer to ponder endlessly without rest. I have a general idea on what “man-made” or “man-governed” life is. But what are the true intentions behind this issue at hand? What is our general purpose at hand through this vacuum of thoughts and emotions and experiences? Each living creature in this biosphere of subsequent activities serves a general purpose. For example, our solar source feeds plants through photosynthesis, our Rodents, Leporidae, and Bovine devour the grass; the Carnivores gormandize the Bovines, the Rodents, and the Leporidae, and so on, and so on. Many people generally run their lives under the basic assumption or belief that their purpose in life is to generate sufficient monetary income throughout their life span in order to celebrate in the end a sublime of gratifying mayhem. Why must we constantly be faced with a challenge? Life has become too complex and we are ironically faced with our own self-instigated drawbacks. To push our selves against a wall, so to say, seems to be our only outlet or pre ordained destiny to subsequently preoccupy our everyday activities with. It is of my firm belief that the root and cause of all evil ultimately is money. Ironically, money is man made and is ultimately the cause of our gradual demise. Our great (if that word is suffice or proper) wars were born as a direct result of monetary reasoning or in one way or another through monetary haggling over land or any other issue in which monetary value was present. Ultimately, the malicious activities henceforth, sprouted from monetary influence. Jealousy and hatred have consumed and intertwined themselves to our moral state of thought through the influence of monetary value and worth. As a direct result, stress clinches on and joins in on the party of moral deterioration. All through the malevolent, inept, and rogue like attempt to one’s share of the pie, if you will. And in the end, one question still stands: “ What have we gained?” Why is it that we must feel content on our deathbed with the sole belief that we accomplished something so artificial and inuring to life’s true desires? Superfluities have controlled and steered our ways of life as Homo Sapiens. In a basic generalized concept, we do not live as we are meant to live. We clumsily spend live our lives striving, pushing, dragging our arms in the dirt, leaving tracks as we slowly tread onward going slower as the sun sinks and draws the evening closer. Is life a perfect model of Darwinism at its finest? Are we striving to be the strongest and aptly ready to dismiss the weak as a flake of burnt weightless, black burnt paper in the state of ash? If so, what is the strive ultimately for? Thin fine slices of cured wood that has dominated, manipulated and controlled our directions and destiny? On life…………………………
"I"
I wrote this my JR year in High School as a classroom assignment in which we were to talk about ourselves as an introduction to the other classmates. I had my favorite English teacher, Mrs. Calahan read it for me. Cheesy, I know, I was only 17. She was amused though. And another student named, Dinorah, I think, asked me for a copy. That was very flattering.
Short in height, broad in mind,
Mute in pain, often one to deny,
Presently housed with one, not two
Brother and Sister to keep the Gods a ‘smile.
One to love the glorious splendor of the
Aidenn high above my puny self;
To love the splendid sorcery of music
Which rests within my self;
And, to love the plentiful stacks and rows of literature
Which rest upon my shelf.
This and all, yet furthermore….
I am one who feels the shocking pulses of a gothic sight
Why, of all, I am only mortal.
One who feels the soothing pleasures of none other than a tender kiss
Be it known, I am normal.
One who feels the sharp sickle swung at I by the evil hands of flaming peers,
None other than typical loiters.
This and all, yet furthermore….
I need,
Water, as a camel needs his;
Feathers as a bird needs his;
Love, as a thirsty Aphrodite needs hers.
I fear,
Fish in the sky, frantically swimming as they cry;
Birds in the water, flying not in the style of an otter;
A window with no frame only to guide in the rain;
A desert seeking sand;
A beach luring land.
This be it my Bugbear.
I am one, who gives,
A dog its bath, but not its path;
A mare its name, but not the fear that to some it is so lame
This and all, yet furthermore….
If within my own commanding swish,
See it that of the maker himself
And he would be it my only wish.
This and all, and further none….
Short in height, broad in mind,
Mute in pain, often one to deny,
Presently housed with one, not two
Brother and Sister to keep the Gods a ‘smile.
One to love the glorious splendor of the
Aidenn high above my puny self;
To love the splendid sorcery of music
Which rests within my self;
And, to love the plentiful stacks and rows of literature
Which rest upon my shelf.
This and all, yet furthermore….
I am one who feels the shocking pulses of a gothic sight
Why, of all, I am only mortal.
One who feels the soothing pleasures of none other than a tender kiss
Be it known, I am normal.
One who feels the sharp sickle swung at I by the evil hands of flaming peers,
None other than typical loiters.
This and all, yet furthermore….
I need,
Water, as a camel needs his;
Feathers as a bird needs his;
Love, as a thirsty Aphrodite needs hers.
I fear,
Fish in the sky, frantically swimming as they cry;
Birds in the water, flying not in the style of an otter;
A window with no frame only to guide in the rain;
A desert seeking sand;
A beach luring land.
This be it my Bugbear.
I am one, who gives,
A dog its bath, but not its path;
A mare its name, but not the fear that to some it is so lame
This and all, yet furthermore….
If within my own commanding swish,
See it that of the maker himself
And he would be it my only wish.
This and all, and further none….
Midrash on the prayer, “Our Father”
This was written in 2003, I believe. It was also an assignment for one of my English courses. It is based on the prayer, "Our Father," and follows many religious textures and themes, if you will. All in all, it's about love, hope, and forgiveness.
“Amen”, they said in unison as they concluded their post-dinner prayer. The sign of the cross, gently following as the father (the oldest of the two) passes the bread to his only son (the younger of the two). It was a gray and dismal evening that was made perfect by the thunder you could hear and the rain that you could see falling from the sky outside the window. The room is illuminated only by one sixty-watt bulb dangling from the ceiling directly over the table where the on going ritual of dinner at seven for two is taking place. The table resembles, or probably is, one from the seventies that could pass as a five-dollar garage sale special. Yellow as the table’s primary color does not blend in too well with the gray walls that make this room a kitchen. The dishes need to be washed in order to prevent the pile in the sink from falling over and crashing down onto the gray, faded and torn vinyl floor. The twelve-year old son, Jesse, usually stared around the room and it made him sigh.
“Dad..” he said after his viewing.
“Yes?”
After realizing that his opinion or comments on their dwelling would probably put more of a damper on the night, Jesse decided to refrain.
“Never mind Dad, nothing.”
His father clearly understood through Jesse’s facial expression what he wanted to say.
“I know it’s not much kiddo. But it’s a roof over our heads. I mean, take a look outside. That’s some bad stuff out there.”
Dad said this in intervals through his chewing.
“Hey kiddo, I know what you’re feeling. And I know that it’s been hard since we lost your mother. But, you have to believe me when I tell you that everything will be ok and we’ll see some blue skies very soon. And, as for our roof over our heads, call it our little heaven on earth, ok?”
Dad winked at Jesse as a sign of reassurance.
“Ya.” Jesse said as he played with his bread on the plate.
“I know Dad, we’re gonna be fine. I know we are.” Jesse smiled and reciprocated his sign of reassurance to Dad.
“Eat your bread buddy.” said dad. And Jesse did just that. And just then, the rain stopped and the thunder ceased. Dad and Jesse looked at each other with their eyes wide open and their eyebrows raised up for a few seconds and exploded into laughter. Dad winked at Jesse once more and told Jesse,
“Told you so partner.”
“Yeah, you sure did Dad, that’s just too cool.” Said Jesse. And he smiled once more.
Their times of happiness dissipated after they lost their mother/wife in a car accident. From that moment on, it seemed the days went from bright and sunny to dark and rainy. Whether or not this was complete coincidence, Dad and Jesse did not know. But what Dad and Jesse did know was that their family member was gone and would never come back. But, they had faith. And their faith would carry them through the hard times like a soft and gentle hand. Dad spends the majority of his time laboring at a steel mill in order to make what little ends they have meet. He cares for Jesse. He loves Jesse. Dad is well liked at work. His co-workers love Dad. They understand the responsibility that is required to carry on without the one you love, and raising a son properly in this world that can be so cruel now-a-days. The co-workers admire him for that and also his amazing ability to love and care for anyone without effort. One worker once said he would give the shirt off his back for Dad. Another bragged and said without remorse that he would gladly give Dad his week’s pay to help him out. But Dad would never accept such charity. Dad appreciated the kind gestures, but his attitude and response would be, “no, no, you save that kinda love for you and your family.” This kind of response baffled the workers and would usually shake their heads in disbelief at how any one man could express so much unselfish love for all. And this, of course made the co-workers love Dad unconditionally. Everyone loved Dad, as did his son Jesse.
Jesse was a sixth grader and was full of joy everyday despite his daily obstacles. He was seven years old when he lost his “mommy”. As a daily reminder that his mom’s death was not in vain, he carried a picture of her in his notebook. Dad continued the upbringing henceforth. Jesse was proud of his Dad, and was also looked up to by his teachers and fellow students. Jesse, like Dad, displayed unconditional love for everyone in school and out of school. He is a quiet child, but very smart. To many students he was very well liked. To a small few, he was despised. One day, after recess, Jesse returned to his classroom and sat at his desk. As he opened his notebook, he noticed that the picture of his mother was gone. Lost in his agony and dumbfounded, he sat there staring at the space where the picture was for what seemed to be hours, but was only a few seconds. As he sat there he noticed the other students were holding their breath staring in Jesse’s direction but above him. Jesse heard a sinister laugh from behind him. As he turned around, he noticed Roman “snake-eyes” Bissetti holding the picture in his right hand laughing at Jesse. Perturbed, all Jesse could do was stare and hope that “snake eyes” would not harm the photograph. “Snake-eyes” earned his name by his ruthless lunch money stealing, after school fighting techniques, and his light brown, almost red eyes that squinted sinisterly when he laughed. He was tall, lanky, and had red hair, and an abundance of freckles on his face. His braces seemed to resemble steel fangs, as his mouth wouldn’t open completely when he sneered and laughed. He had the class’s attention.
“Aw, so this is your mommy?” he asked Jesse.
“C’mon “snake eyes” please don’t hurt the picture.” Pleaded Jesse.
“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do this would you?” said “snake eyes” as he grabbed the middle of the photograph and tore it down the middle in a straight line. He went on to tear the rest of the picture leaving only pieces.
“Nooooo!” screamed Jesse as he witnessed this malicious act.
“Snake eyes” laughed hard and threw the pieces at Jesse’s face.
“Listen here punk, you wanna do something about it?” sneered “snake eyes”.
“Yes, I do.” Replied Jesse.
“Then meet me tomorrow after school, in the front. We’ll settle matters there. I own this school; I can’t have you getting all my attention. Just who do you think you are? You meet me tomorrow after school, you hear!?” Snake eyes” was yelling with drops of spit landing on Jesse’s face.
“Don’t tempt me “snake”, I will do it.” Said Jesse.
“Then back it up hero. I can hardly wait.” He said.
And with this “snake eyes” laughed hard and exited the room.
The class gasped and some cried as they saw Jesse slumped over in his desk crying. He wiped his eyes, got up and ran home. Dad arrived to find his son hurt and crying. As Jesse explained to Dad what had happened, Dad simply replied, “Kiddo, that was a picture. You don’t need a picture to remind you of your mother, do you?” Dad had his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and the two were sitting on the floor. Through tear covered eyes and a runny nose, Jesse stared at his Dad as he spoke to him.
“I’m gonna get that rat Dad!” he said.
“I’m gonna get him real good Dad! I’m gonna show him. In front of everyone!” he continued.
Dad replied with a smile, “No you’re not Jess. You’re going to forgive him.”
“What?!”
“Yes sir, you are. Your mother’s memory is in your heart, and you don’t need a picture to remind you of her. You’re going to forgive him, and you will not give in to his offer to fight you, you hear?”
“I don’t understand Dad. Why can “snake” do what he does to me and I can’t do it back to him?”
“You will come across people who are gonna be jealous of you. You’re a good kid. There’s gonna be people who hate you. That don’t matter kid. You need to forgive and love. You don’t need to fight. It’s always stronger to forgive than to throw a punch, trust me on this kid. Ok? You wanna ruin the image you’ve got? The one that has people loving you? No, I didn’t think so. To forgive is more powerful than to hit. Promise me you’re gonna do just that, ok?”
“Yes sir.” Jesse said as he wiped his eyes and sniffed.
The next day after school, the crowd of kids gathered in the front of school waiting for the confrontation between “snake” and Jesse. “Snake eyes” was already there in the middle of the circle waiting for Jesse cursing out loud that he would not show. “Jesse your hero is a coward, he ain’t showing.” He yelled.
And just then, Jesse arrived and calmly entered the circus wearing his backpack. The crowd silenced.
“So, what’s the deal punk? Are you going to show your fan club how tough you are? I’m ready punk.” Began “snake”.
“Yes, I am “snake”. I sure am.” Said Jesse.
“Then bring it on boy!” yelled Snake.
“O.k. snake, I will.”
With this, Jesse removed his backpack and approached “snake”.
“I want you to know that I forgive you snake. It’s ok. And I don’t hate you. Is that cool?” said Jesse.
Jesse approached “snake” closer and embraced him. Stunned, “snake eyes” backed off and screamed, “I don’t want your pity fag! Get your hands off me!”
“Snake eyes” spit at Jesse’s feet and ran off. The children were stunned and were silent as Jesse grabbed his backpack from the ground and exited the circle to walk home. As he was leaving the school grounds, Jesse could hear the crowd clapping.
Dad was proud of his son- for he had once again led him in the right direction. Jesse was also proud of his Dad- for he had instilled a life long moral lesson in his heart, and it felt good. Once again, a few weeks later they met at the table for dinner at seven for two. Jesse explained to Dad how his guidance is making him a stronger person and how good it feels to forgive and love.
“I don’t know where this is going Dad, but it sure does feel good.” He explains.
“Happiness forever Jess,” Dad says with a smile.
“Happiness forever……” he repeats as he winks.
Jesse smiles in return and looks out the window. His eyes widen and his eyebrows rise as he turns to look at his Dad and says, “Dad look! The sun is peeking through the clouds! It’s coming out!”
Dad smiles and says, “Told you so.”
Jesse is smiling and says, “I love you Dad.”
“Love you too kid. Now eat your bread.”
He winks.
“Amen”, they said in unison as they concluded their post-dinner prayer. The sign of the cross, gently following as the father (the oldest of the two) passes the bread to his only son (the younger of the two). It was a gray and dismal evening that was made perfect by the thunder you could hear and the rain that you could see falling from the sky outside the window. The room is illuminated only by one sixty-watt bulb dangling from the ceiling directly over the table where the on going ritual of dinner at seven for two is taking place. The table resembles, or probably is, one from the seventies that could pass as a five-dollar garage sale special. Yellow as the table’s primary color does not blend in too well with the gray walls that make this room a kitchen. The dishes need to be washed in order to prevent the pile in the sink from falling over and crashing down onto the gray, faded and torn vinyl floor. The twelve-year old son, Jesse, usually stared around the room and it made him sigh.
“Dad..” he said after his viewing.
“Yes?”
After realizing that his opinion or comments on their dwelling would probably put more of a damper on the night, Jesse decided to refrain.
“Never mind Dad, nothing.”
His father clearly understood through Jesse’s facial expression what he wanted to say.
“I know it’s not much kiddo. But it’s a roof over our heads. I mean, take a look outside. That’s some bad stuff out there.”
Dad said this in intervals through his chewing.
“Hey kiddo, I know what you’re feeling. And I know that it’s been hard since we lost your mother. But, you have to believe me when I tell you that everything will be ok and we’ll see some blue skies very soon. And, as for our roof over our heads, call it our little heaven on earth, ok?”
Dad winked at Jesse as a sign of reassurance.
“Ya.” Jesse said as he played with his bread on the plate.
“I know Dad, we’re gonna be fine. I know we are.” Jesse smiled and reciprocated his sign of reassurance to Dad.
“Eat your bread buddy.” said dad. And Jesse did just that. And just then, the rain stopped and the thunder ceased. Dad and Jesse looked at each other with their eyes wide open and their eyebrows raised up for a few seconds and exploded into laughter. Dad winked at Jesse once more and told Jesse,
“Told you so partner.”
“Yeah, you sure did Dad, that’s just too cool.” Said Jesse. And he smiled once more.
Their times of happiness dissipated after they lost their mother/wife in a car accident. From that moment on, it seemed the days went from bright and sunny to dark and rainy. Whether or not this was complete coincidence, Dad and Jesse did not know. But what Dad and Jesse did know was that their family member was gone and would never come back. But, they had faith. And their faith would carry them through the hard times like a soft and gentle hand. Dad spends the majority of his time laboring at a steel mill in order to make what little ends they have meet. He cares for Jesse. He loves Jesse. Dad is well liked at work. His co-workers love Dad. They understand the responsibility that is required to carry on without the one you love, and raising a son properly in this world that can be so cruel now-a-days. The co-workers admire him for that and also his amazing ability to love and care for anyone without effort. One worker once said he would give the shirt off his back for Dad. Another bragged and said without remorse that he would gladly give Dad his week’s pay to help him out. But Dad would never accept such charity. Dad appreciated the kind gestures, but his attitude and response would be, “no, no, you save that kinda love for you and your family.” This kind of response baffled the workers and would usually shake their heads in disbelief at how any one man could express so much unselfish love for all. And this, of course made the co-workers love Dad unconditionally. Everyone loved Dad, as did his son Jesse.
Jesse was a sixth grader and was full of joy everyday despite his daily obstacles. He was seven years old when he lost his “mommy”. As a daily reminder that his mom’s death was not in vain, he carried a picture of her in his notebook. Dad continued the upbringing henceforth. Jesse was proud of his Dad, and was also looked up to by his teachers and fellow students. Jesse, like Dad, displayed unconditional love for everyone in school and out of school. He is a quiet child, but very smart. To many students he was very well liked. To a small few, he was despised. One day, after recess, Jesse returned to his classroom and sat at his desk. As he opened his notebook, he noticed that the picture of his mother was gone. Lost in his agony and dumbfounded, he sat there staring at the space where the picture was for what seemed to be hours, but was only a few seconds. As he sat there he noticed the other students were holding their breath staring in Jesse’s direction but above him. Jesse heard a sinister laugh from behind him. As he turned around, he noticed Roman “snake-eyes” Bissetti holding the picture in his right hand laughing at Jesse. Perturbed, all Jesse could do was stare and hope that “snake eyes” would not harm the photograph. “Snake-eyes” earned his name by his ruthless lunch money stealing, after school fighting techniques, and his light brown, almost red eyes that squinted sinisterly when he laughed. He was tall, lanky, and had red hair, and an abundance of freckles on his face. His braces seemed to resemble steel fangs, as his mouth wouldn’t open completely when he sneered and laughed. He had the class’s attention.
“Aw, so this is your mommy?” he asked Jesse.
“C’mon “snake eyes” please don’t hurt the picture.” Pleaded Jesse.
“Oh, you wouldn’t want me to do this would you?” said “snake eyes” as he grabbed the middle of the photograph and tore it down the middle in a straight line. He went on to tear the rest of the picture leaving only pieces.
“Nooooo!” screamed Jesse as he witnessed this malicious act.
“Snake eyes” laughed hard and threw the pieces at Jesse’s face.
“Listen here punk, you wanna do something about it?” sneered “snake eyes”.
“Yes, I do.” Replied Jesse.
“Then meet me tomorrow after school, in the front. We’ll settle matters there. I own this school; I can’t have you getting all my attention. Just who do you think you are? You meet me tomorrow after school, you hear!?” Snake eyes” was yelling with drops of spit landing on Jesse’s face.
“Don’t tempt me “snake”, I will do it.” Said Jesse.
“Then back it up hero. I can hardly wait.” He said.
And with this “snake eyes” laughed hard and exited the room.
The class gasped and some cried as they saw Jesse slumped over in his desk crying. He wiped his eyes, got up and ran home. Dad arrived to find his son hurt and crying. As Jesse explained to Dad what had happened, Dad simply replied, “Kiddo, that was a picture. You don’t need a picture to remind you of your mother, do you?” Dad had his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and the two were sitting on the floor. Through tear covered eyes and a runny nose, Jesse stared at his Dad as he spoke to him.
“I’m gonna get that rat Dad!” he said.
“I’m gonna get him real good Dad! I’m gonna show him. In front of everyone!” he continued.
Dad replied with a smile, “No you’re not Jess. You’re going to forgive him.”
“What?!”
“Yes sir, you are. Your mother’s memory is in your heart, and you don’t need a picture to remind you of her. You’re going to forgive him, and you will not give in to his offer to fight you, you hear?”
“I don’t understand Dad. Why can “snake” do what he does to me and I can’t do it back to him?”
“You will come across people who are gonna be jealous of you. You’re a good kid. There’s gonna be people who hate you. That don’t matter kid. You need to forgive and love. You don’t need to fight. It’s always stronger to forgive than to throw a punch, trust me on this kid. Ok? You wanna ruin the image you’ve got? The one that has people loving you? No, I didn’t think so. To forgive is more powerful than to hit. Promise me you’re gonna do just that, ok?”
“Yes sir.” Jesse said as he wiped his eyes and sniffed.
The next day after school, the crowd of kids gathered in the front of school waiting for the confrontation between “snake” and Jesse. “Snake eyes” was already there in the middle of the circle waiting for Jesse cursing out loud that he would not show. “Jesse your hero is a coward, he ain’t showing.” He yelled.
And just then, Jesse arrived and calmly entered the circus wearing his backpack. The crowd silenced.
“So, what’s the deal punk? Are you going to show your fan club how tough you are? I’m ready punk.” Began “snake”.
“Yes, I am “snake”. I sure am.” Said Jesse.
“Then bring it on boy!” yelled Snake.
“O.k. snake, I will.”
With this, Jesse removed his backpack and approached “snake”.
“I want you to know that I forgive you snake. It’s ok. And I don’t hate you. Is that cool?” said Jesse.
Jesse approached “snake” closer and embraced him. Stunned, “snake eyes” backed off and screamed, “I don’t want your pity fag! Get your hands off me!”
“Snake eyes” spit at Jesse’s feet and ran off. The children were stunned and were silent as Jesse grabbed his backpack from the ground and exited the circle to walk home. As he was leaving the school grounds, Jesse could hear the crowd clapping.
Dad was proud of his son- for he had once again led him in the right direction. Jesse was also proud of his Dad- for he had instilled a life long moral lesson in his heart, and it felt good. Once again, a few weeks later they met at the table for dinner at seven for two. Jesse explained to Dad how his guidance is making him a stronger person and how good it feels to forgive and love.
“I don’t know where this is going Dad, but it sure does feel good.” He explains.
“Happiness forever Jess,” Dad says with a smile.
“Happiness forever……” he repeats as he winks.
Jesse smiles in return and looks out the window. His eyes widen and his eyebrows rise as he turns to look at his Dad and says, “Dad look! The sun is peeking through the clouds! It’s coming out!”
Dad smiles and says, “Told you so.”
Jesse is smiling and says, “I love you Dad.”
“Love you too kid. Now eat your bread.”
He winks.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Memoirs Of The Lost Doppel-Ganger- An Elaborate Delve Into One’s Self-Meddling Consciousness With A Dash Of Dadaism
I wrote this this month, actually. Although, it initially served as a free-associating outlet for pain, it eventually flowed in my mind as something else. It's a moment of serendipity how the thematic implication of a work in progress evolves into something much more creative and senseful. This is about one man's struggle within himself. I tend to be very existentialistic at times. The protagonist and the antagonist are the same person, but interestingly enough, there is still conflict within the self that creates two. I have always been fascinated with the divisional paramaters of the self, soul, or mind (However you see it) since the Freudian theories of the Id and Ego. Similarly, "Unconscious Saturnalia" is almost the same as this writing. As a fan of the human mind being finitely powerful, these are the musings that stem forth.
There is the Dichotomy.
That is to say- Me. The confusion grows and strips me in half, spawning the mongrel that I am. There is the rational being that screams logic and represents white. Then there is the beat and bruised schlemiel that thwarts my security and tells me, "All are out to get you- even those you trust." He represents black and discord.
And, although he is my nemesis, we dwell together.
The half I entrusted my love to considers me nothing more than a pile of dung. In my efforts, I have capitulated over and over again with it, to no avail. "How can my shadow grow stronger and stronger evermore over my own demise?" I ask him.
Could that be the control I handed over to it, as the priest once spoke above the alter on a Sunday afternoon? He stated that no one or nothing has control over you that has been given unto them by you. I often ponder on the easy nights if that be it the case. Nonetheless, the case is....part of me is torn and battered in a raging sea on a splintered boat, while the other dines with the elite. And the one thing I gave my heart to still says, it is by my own hand. Which hand was that again? I seem to forget.
I love it as the wind grows; as the sun comes up; as sure as the Earth spins. But, does this mask love as that? My bruised heart says "no." Am I selfish?
Am I sniveling? These are the questions that torment me day by day.
I have lost all rational sense whilst in this compounded relationship. I have lost our own footing. Yet, I'm not strong enough to step out of the suit.
WHAT KEEPS ME HERE?
I hurt daily, but I hide it. I smile, but falsely. I have cracked under pressure. I have cried. I have wallowed. No one turns. No one sees. And the one that does, utters the words, "It's YOUR fault."
Who am I? Who is this person? Why was I placed with him in my life through what many will consider and a divine construct?
This bugbear- the action of Karma. It must be. I have wronged many, and now, it is my ride into damnation to live in duality like this.
I've stepped out of this global cage- the one that provides air, light, and life, and into a third dimension. I am, as an observer watching fish through the glass of an aquarium, watching and seeing my limp body kicked and thrown across some dusty street of indifferent disparity by my evil twin.
How did I get here? What deal went bad? Why do I have no choice at auto-atonement? Why am I being crucified?
I have lost sight of the paradigm of Jesus; I laid down the rules of practice. Turn the cheek, he said. Yet, I have done this very thing day after day and sustained nothing but bruises throughout our ethos.
The one I gave my half to has no respect for me and calls me 'selfish.’ I've always put us first. I've always considered his thoughts above mine.
He is the product of what our world has become- Selfishness.
And why can't I leave him? Why have I given him that control over me?
The weakness I ponder over and still falter deeper yet over and over again as I stare at the body in the mirror before me. Ethos Euthanasia.
There is the Dichotomy.
That is to say- Me. The confusion grows and strips me in half, spawning the mongrel that I am. There is the rational being that screams logic and represents white. Then there is the beat and bruised schlemiel that thwarts my security and tells me, "All are out to get you- even those you trust." He represents black and discord.
And, although he is my nemesis, we dwell together.
The half I entrusted my love to considers me nothing more than a pile of dung. In my efforts, I have capitulated over and over again with it, to no avail. "How can my shadow grow stronger and stronger evermore over my own demise?" I ask him.
Could that be the control I handed over to it, as the priest once spoke above the alter on a Sunday afternoon? He stated that no one or nothing has control over you that has been given unto them by you. I often ponder on the easy nights if that be it the case. Nonetheless, the case is....part of me is torn and battered in a raging sea on a splintered boat, while the other dines with the elite. And the one thing I gave my heart to still says, it is by my own hand. Which hand was that again? I seem to forget.
I love it as the wind grows; as the sun comes up; as sure as the Earth spins. But, does this mask love as that? My bruised heart says "no." Am I selfish?
Am I sniveling? These are the questions that torment me day by day.
I have lost all rational sense whilst in this compounded relationship. I have lost our own footing. Yet, I'm not strong enough to step out of the suit.
WHAT KEEPS ME HERE?
I hurt daily, but I hide it. I smile, but falsely. I have cracked under pressure. I have cried. I have wallowed. No one turns. No one sees. And the one that does, utters the words, "It's YOUR fault."
Who am I? Who is this person? Why was I placed with him in my life through what many will consider and a divine construct?
This bugbear- the action of Karma. It must be. I have wronged many, and now, it is my ride into damnation to live in duality like this.
I've stepped out of this global cage- the one that provides air, light, and life, and into a third dimension. I am, as an observer watching fish through the glass of an aquarium, watching and seeing my limp body kicked and thrown across some dusty street of indifferent disparity by my evil twin.
How did I get here? What deal went bad? Why do I have no choice at auto-atonement? Why am I being crucified?
I have lost sight of the paradigm of Jesus; I laid down the rules of practice. Turn the cheek, he said. Yet, I have done this very thing day after day and sustained nothing but bruises throughout our ethos.
The one I gave my half to has no respect for me and calls me 'selfish.’ I've always put us first. I've always considered his thoughts above mine.
He is the product of what our world has become- Selfishness.
And why can't I leave him? Why have I given him that control over me?
The weakness I ponder over and still falter deeper yet over and over again as I stare at the body in the mirror before me. Ethos Euthanasia.
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