I wake alone
in a woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone
and pretend that I am finally home.
The room is littered
with her books and notebooks
I imagine what they say, like,
"Shoo fly don't bother me."
I can hardly get myself out of the bed
for fear of never lying in this bed again.
Oh Christ, I'm not that desperate.
Oh no, oh God. I am.
How'd I end up here to begin with?
I don't know.
Why do I start what I can't finish?
Oh please don't barrage me
with the questions
to all those ugly answers.
My ego's like my stomach,
it keeps shitting what I feed it.
But maybe I don't want to finish anything anymore.
Maybe I can wait in bed 'til she comes home
and whispers,
"You're in my web now,
I've come to wrap you up tight
'til it's time to bite down."
I wake alone
in a woman's room I hardly know.
I wake alone
and pretend that I am finally home.
Cursive-The Recluse
I think it's beautiful no?
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Things I currently enjoy...
-this week
-the old tunes on my iPod
-the new shit as well
-my 2 jeans
-stryker out of town
-watching french open and NBA playoffs
-possible internship?
-driving
-getting stuck in 405 traffic...not really =[
-the old tunes on my iPod
-the new shit as well
-my 2 jeans
-stryker out of town
-watching french open and NBA playoffs
-possible internship?
-driving
-getting stuck in 405 traffic...not really =[
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
My Child, Go to Bed.
Madre, no puedo dormirme.
Me duele la inseguridad,
Me duele cuando puedo oirlo.
Que no me quiere contestar.
¿Cuando voy a poder dormir?
¿Cuando voy a escuchar la voz
que me a puesto en cama, que
me dijo que siempre me ayudará?
Me temblan mis manos, me tembla
mi voz.
Mother, When can I go home?
I feel weak, and so far somehow,
The sun does not have the warmth
That it did with you.
On this knoll I feel the leaves of grass,
Shivering at my ankles.
Are they as afraid as I?
Mother Earth kisses their feet.
Are they as afraid as I am?
Our trees seem hollow, and
Nature seems plastic, wax.
The entire image seems false,
withered, as if a breeze would
COLLAPSE it.
Is She as scared?
Here leaf by leaf, we put up a fight.
Here we can grasp at every green finger,
Lingering on each note, as the leaves
whisper through the air, falling in
a pool, and drifting on.
There was a nonchalance carrying that
fallen limb, at the child's FEET.
My Heart does not beat the same as hers.
The child. She needs a home, and I
Stand Rooted.
I want to hug her, But the swarm
Inside me pinching at her toes,
are the only touch I can muster.
Madre, ven por mi.
My foliage returns next spring,
but she only passes by from here
to then.
No dejas que te saca la alma.
No dejas que te apaga tu fuego.
Duermate, que este arbol,
siempre pondra las manos
pidiendole al cielo que
te protege.
Mother, this tree is empty.
And I cannot watch it decay
anymore.
Putrid thing,
poor thing.
Let it die, and I'll
stay. Hoping to stay my
overwhelmed mind.
Me duele la inseguridad,
Me duele cuando puedo oirlo.
Que no me quiere contestar.
¿Cuando voy a poder dormir?
¿Cuando voy a escuchar la voz
que me a puesto en cama, que
me dijo que siempre me ayudará?
Me temblan mis manos, me tembla
mi voz.
Mother, When can I go home?
I feel weak, and so far somehow,
The sun does not have the warmth
That it did with you.
On this knoll I feel the leaves of grass,
Shivering at my ankles.
Are they as afraid as I?
Mother Earth kisses their feet.
Are they as afraid as I am?
Our trees seem hollow, and
Nature seems plastic, wax.
The entire image seems false,
withered, as if a breeze would
COLLAPSE it.
Is She as scared?
Here leaf by leaf, we put up a fight.
Here we can grasp at every green finger,
Lingering on each note, as the leaves
whisper through the air, falling in
a pool, and drifting on.
There was a nonchalance carrying that
fallen limb, at the child's FEET.
My Heart does not beat the same as hers.
The child. She needs a home, and I
Stand Rooted.
I want to hug her, But the swarm
Inside me pinching at her toes,
are the only touch I can muster.
Madre, ven por mi.
My foliage returns next spring,
but she only passes by from here
to then.
No dejas que te saca la alma.
No dejas que te apaga tu fuego.
Duermate, que este arbol,
siempre pondra las manos
pidiendole al cielo que
te protege.
Mother, this tree is empty.
And I cannot watch it decay
anymore.
Putrid thing,
poor thing.
Let it die, and I'll
stay. Hoping to stay my
overwhelmed mind.
Live and Let Die...iono I was listening to it
Yo mangs I haven't blogged in awhile due to RL circumstances that present themselves in a an untimely fashion. yeah I am good thanks for asking, I love ramen....not the top ramen shit, but the actual ramen with the actual soup broth. Anyways uhh yeah I've got to study for this chemistry final so I will be back! In the mean time enjoy!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
OOO. (this is the image of my mind 3 yrs ago?)
The Son, The Spirit, And The Father; The One
My struggle for expression is deeply rooted in my dithyrambic loving of the word “love” . I have given up belief in the word yet am in a constant battle with myself to give in to the romanticized and dramatized lifestyle glorified by television and media in general. I preach against the fairy tales and subconsciously yearn for a life where I can save the day and be proclaimed the hero, the hero to the loyal and loving admirers. I want to lead a million into combat and conquer the enemy. I want to come out bloodied and bloodthirsty alongside the same million souls urging the force forward, forward to fight and destroy all oppressors and tyrants who choose to destroy the land our God bestowed upon us. But nothing like that happens. And to search for the right way to, if not given a different opportunity as listed before, express the emotions which tempt insanity and the shattering of a fragile mind is the plague from which I try to escape. But it seems the desire for a drain of emotion, negative and good, has chained me within the quarantined zone. Not only living within the darkness, but isolating myself within it.
This realization was dragged out through a series of events that was caused in part by my loss of faith. This is God’s fault.
When in the process of losing God I was attacked by demons. The searing presence awoke me and the pulsing energy looming over me paralyzed me in fear. Moving away not an option I stopped and waited. The malevolent entity caressing my back with its looming presence not pleasing nor soothing me but striking fear within me. Blood strains to course through my veins and thoughts scramble to make sense of an impossible situation. Just as blood overpowers the obstacles I regain control of my own body the presence disappeared and I am there alone- Breathing hard, sweating, dying, and alone. Within the week I had two more encounters with these demons each with more and more intensity than the last. But as my need for more information lead me on a chase I am told these demons, these haunting enigmas were no more real than my thoughts and growing paranoia of the ominous living shadows painted all over the walls and ceilings. The was nothing more than “sleep paralysis” in which the body remains in a state of dormancy as the mind begins to awaken. This causes the mind to panic as it has no control over the body. This inability to control gives the impression that it is under the influence of a foreign force. But since no foreign force is detected a being is fabricated fear consumes the victim. But science is not the answer. God was telling me to stay with Him; bull shit. I was telling myself to stay in His good graces, to hold dear what would give me a purpose, to stay within the scope of an existence which is more than what it is. But I refused to allow myself to be intimidated by my own mind. I would fight myself whether both opposing forces are drained and destroyed. The civil war began. Logic’s triumph proved to be a Pyrrhic victory.
What I lost in that, was the beauty and divine innocence that human beings where infused with at birth by God’s hand. With that gone what is left is a gaping, consuming hole, sucking deeper and ever expanding. This hole spawns in the heart, the hands and the mind. My head falls, my chest hollows, and my hands grasp at my own body draining my very own aura. This is what I feel when I am reminded of the demise of divine rewards, of the hideousness of individuals, of violent tendencies of a drunk father, a drunk nation, a drunk lover. The black of the world triggers a black hole within me, within my “soul” or consciousness which does not let me live, die, smile or cry. Now for the greater part of my life this black has tried to escape. Acoustics are not enough to bring beauty to my lack of dexterity, carbon tipped wood not lending my hand ability, I falter, struggle, fall short of showing it, of releasing myself. Where does one turn as many refuse to listen and turn away, not even paper staying long enough to release him? I am relinquished of emotion, relinquished of desire, relinquished of humanity.
Only there, on my knees, dirt and grass staining me, dethroned and abandoned by my romantic side, do I rightfully claim my deserved jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Heaven.
My struggle for expression is deeply rooted in my dithyrambic loving of the word “love” . I have given up belief in the word yet am in a constant battle with myself to give in to the romanticized and dramatized lifestyle glorified by television and media in general. I preach against the fairy tales and subconsciously yearn for a life where I can save the day and be proclaimed the hero, the hero to the loyal and loving admirers. I want to lead a million into combat and conquer the enemy. I want to come out bloodied and bloodthirsty alongside the same million souls urging the force forward, forward to fight and destroy all oppressors and tyrants who choose to destroy the land our God bestowed upon us. But nothing like that happens. And to search for the right way to, if not given a different opportunity as listed before, express the emotions which tempt insanity and the shattering of a fragile mind is the plague from which I try to escape. But it seems the desire for a drain of emotion, negative and good, has chained me within the quarantined zone. Not only living within the darkness, but isolating myself within it.
This realization was dragged out through a series of events that was caused in part by my loss of faith. This is God’s fault.
When in the process of losing God I was attacked by demons. The searing presence awoke me and the pulsing energy looming over me paralyzed me in fear. Moving away not an option I stopped and waited. The malevolent entity caressing my back with its looming presence not pleasing nor soothing me but striking fear within me. Blood strains to course through my veins and thoughts scramble to make sense of an impossible situation. Just as blood overpowers the obstacles I regain control of my own body the presence disappeared and I am there alone- Breathing hard, sweating, dying, and alone. Within the week I had two more encounters with these demons each with more and more intensity than the last. But as my need for more information lead me on a chase I am told these demons, these haunting enigmas were no more real than my thoughts and growing paranoia of the ominous living shadows painted all over the walls and ceilings. The was nothing more than “sleep paralysis” in which the body remains in a state of dormancy as the mind begins to awaken. This causes the mind to panic as it has no control over the body. This inability to control gives the impression that it is under the influence of a foreign force. But since no foreign force is detected a being is fabricated fear consumes the victim. But science is not the answer. God was telling me to stay with Him; bull shit. I was telling myself to stay in His good graces, to hold dear what would give me a purpose, to stay within the scope of an existence which is more than what it is. But I refused to allow myself to be intimidated by my own mind. I would fight myself whether both opposing forces are drained and destroyed. The civil war began. Logic’s triumph proved to be a Pyrrhic victory.
What I lost in that, was the beauty and divine innocence that human beings where infused with at birth by God’s hand. With that gone what is left is a gaping, consuming hole, sucking deeper and ever expanding. This hole spawns in the heart, the hands and the mind. My head falls, my chest hollows, and my hands grasp at my own body draining my very own aura. This is what I feel when I am reminded of the demise of divine rewards, of the hideousness of individuals, of violent tendencies of a drunk father, a drunk nation, a drunk lover. The black of the world triggers a black hole within me, within my “soul” or consciousness which does not let me live, die, smile or cry. Now for the greater part of my life this black has tried to escape. Acoustics are not enough to bring beauty to my lack of dexterity, carbon tipped wood not lending my hand ability, I falter, struggle, fall short of showing it, of releasing myself. Where does one turn as many refuse to listen and turn away, not even paper staying long enough to release him? I am relinquished of emotion, relinquished of desire, relinquished of humanity.
Only there, on my knees, dirt and grass staining me, dethroned and abandoned by my romantic side, do I rightfully claim my deserved jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Heaven.
Monday, May 4, 2009
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