rhyme

I look into your eyes and I see demise, the ashes of what we’ve come to despise. Its not really a surprise theres no doubt in my mind, reality was never meant to be a lullaby. Speakin in tongues with the syllable sums, suddenly seein where your comin from, and where your gonna go, maybe I don’t know, never was ever so cleverly shown. Open up to a tune like flames, pointing the finger with disparity of blame. But three point back you know this game, the subtle mind tricks that we all must play, not a stranger to the shame in our own way, time heals all wounds that’s what they say… but you’re beauty is a vice that I cannot slay.

One more time, open up your mind, speak the words of a life intertwined. Never you mind, what you could not find, true perception is the rarest kind. In a foggy haze full of doubtful pain we all suffer what we must in our own ways. Pass through this phase, this group of days, this too will pass and so we give you praise. Two hands to raise, guide me through this maze, in my darkest moments I become amazed. Of your healing power over this game, I stare into the sun and hang my head in shame. I’ve become the bain the source of my pain, the cause of the curse coursing through my veins. My own demise of my own my mind, will I stand before the endless march of time.

sink or swim

I love the holidays.

It brings out the best in people.

Christmas comes and for a short time, people more or less get along.  The world’s not perfect by any means, but unless you’re soul is dead, you can feel a hint of goodwill in the air, perhaps a smile on the faces of strangers.

New Years brings promises of fresh beginnings.  A benchmark for a new start.  Suddenly gym memberships increase, cigarette sales decrease, our cup is half-full, and the whole world has an excuse to party…

if only for a while.

For me, The New Year comes at an interesting time.  I see land but i’m still in deep waters.  I can almost taste the spoils, but danger’s abound.

There are sharks and there are currents, but what is most dangerous is my own weakness.  I want to give up.  It would be so easy to sink.

But I will swim.  I will put my head down, and I will go.  Even though I sometimes I swim forward, and move backwards.

As I look out at the new year ahead I see the promise of land that has been elusive for so long.  But I hear the siren’s song.  They offer the sweetness of stolen water, and I can’t help but be enticed, knowing full well the price.    

I feel like i’m at a very similar place that I was one year ago when I began posting my thoughts.  But something tells me next year will be much, much different…

one way or another.

the un-replaced

Time has come and gone astray
and memories won’t fade away
I failed the test and now I save
Indifference for another day

How can I let you leave this place?
The choice I made I now must face
Left with but a bitter taste
The vacuum of the un-replaced

A Bad Case of the Mondays

At some point I started counted my life in weeks rather than days. Days that blur into each other, with lines that are difficult to distinguish. I wake up at the same time, go to work at the same time, go to lunch at the same time, go home at the same time.

I spend the whole week waiting for a weekend that is over before it started. I tell myself, "Work hard, play hard" and then spend my weekend nights living it. Monday comes with a vengeance, and I'm suddenly at my desk in a hazy self-induced chemical imbalance. Staring off into nothing, wondering what this new week will bring, and knowing that I don't really need to wonder at all.

I'm not sure if its the routine itself or the nature of my routine. I know i've been told I have a problem being content where I'm at. Supposedly, life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.

I've blamed it on my job more than a few times. It's kind of funny how bad I wanted this only a few months ago, and how much I would give now to make it go away. A drone for corporate leaders who may never know my name, and will certainly never care.

There must be something more. At some point I will have to demand a purpose and ruffle the feathers meant for flying. On paper, i'm exactly where I should be. But paper is 2-D and it's impossible to quantify the dimensions of reality.

Just another case of the mondays...

Digging holes while my hole gets deeper.

Sometimes life sucks.

Every now and then the cosmic forces of 'who knows what' decide to throw it all at you at once.

For a while you probably had it covered. Everything was fine, fantastic even.

And then one day you wake up and everything is falling apart. The world of comfort that you once knew is now laced with anxiety and fear. You're not sure how you're going to make it.

Maybe you got yourself here. Maybe your choices led you here. Maybe it had far more to do with bad luck than bad choices. Maybe it was a combination of the two.

Either way the future is now ominous territory. Dark and forboding. Hope is a dim light in the distance, no longer a guiding beacon.

If you stop and think, you'll probably realize that you've been here before. You've felt what you feel now, and you will probably feel it again. Cycles are a rule of nature. From peaks to valleys and then back to peaks again. Our lives are very much subject to the cycle.

You will make it.

I will make it.

We will make it because we don't have any other choice. We will make it because we were born to survive.

The worst the bad times are, the better the good times will be. Its the hard times that show you who really loves you. Its the tough times that make you stronger.

You will pull yourself out of your hole but you can't do it all it once. Don't let the future overwhelm you. Make the right choices, right now. Start small, but start somewhere. If you really stop to take a look, you'll know what needs to be done.

Have faith in love. Have faith in those that love you. Have faith in yourself.

Sunday's Best

One Thousand Faces dressed in haste
Sundays best is left to taste
the hardest task I ever faced
was not to steal what they replaced

Drink the cool-aid everyone
the blood of God in simple pun
break the body of his son
forgive yourself for what you've done

Be careful dthat you don't expose
The skeletons that noone knows
Every thorn must have a rose
and preacher has his prose.

One week down and more to go
make sure to greet those you don't know
and laugh like you enjoyed the show
Cuz if you reap,
You might just sow.

Home.

"They were pilgrims, for they had resigned, for ever, what the good hold most dear -- their homes. Home can never be transferred; never repeated in the experience of an individual. The place consecrated by parental love, by the innocence and sports of childhood, by the first acquaintance with nature; by the linking of the heart to the visible creation, is the only home. There there is a living and breathing spirit infused into nature: every familiar object has a history -- the trees have tongues, and the very air is vocal. There the vesture of decay does not close in and control the noble functions of the soul. It sees and hears and enjoys without the ministry of gross material substance." excerpt from 'Hope Leslie' by Catharine Maria Sedwick

It doesn't matter how restless I claim my soul is. It doesn't matter where my travels take me or what adventures I may find. My home will never release its claim.