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Just a little thought I had

Answering life’s questions with the aid of a deity is similar to searching the back of a textbook for answers

Forsaken… Forgotten… Left for dead

These are the words that play in my head

Forsaken… Forgotten… Forever in my mind

The memories of you that are left behind

The Agony, the Tears, the Nothingness inside

These are the gifts that you provide

Forsaken… Forgotten… fucked in the head

The helpless one that was left for dead… for dead… 

And it seems that not much has changed. I’ve still got that ‘negative’ outlook on life, or so people have told me. But is it really negative? Maybe, just maybe, it’s realistic, and you’re all just optimists. Ignorant, naive optimists. See, I don’t think I’m negative. Nor do I think I attach ‘negative connotations’ to what I say. I remember having an entire argument about all of this a while back.

Here’s a little insight on the discrepancy between being negative, and being realistic. To be negative about something is to disregard ALL other possibilities that are there. No matter how small the likelihood of it is, it’s immediately and indefinitely disregarded. Saying something like “you’ll never change” is being negative in your view about someone. Being realistic however, is taking into account everything, then making a statement on what you think is the likely outcome. Saying something like “I doubt you’re going to change who you are” is being realistic, given that, your view on the person is of that nature. 

So, with that, is my look on life all that negative? I think not. Just because I don’t smile all that often, that doesn’t mean I’m a negative person. It just means I don’t have much to smile about. Just because I care about very few people, and for very few things, that doesn’t mean I’m anti-social. It just means I don’t want to take the chance of getting hurt. There’s a perfect example of realistically looking at something, actually. See, I don’t say “everyone’s going to hurt me”, cos that would be me being negative. Instead, I say “there’s a high chance that most of the people I encounter will hurt me, given the chance”. That’s realistic. If by now you haven’t been able to grasp the discreet difference between the two, then, not to sound rude, but I advise you to stop reading.

Anyway, enough about that. Lately, I’ve realized that I don’t do anything at all. Okay, that’s wrong. I do, do things. But they’re hardly productive. I play games, I sleep, I listen to music and I isolate myself from everyone and everything at times, too. I do everything that I shouldn’t, haha. But I think the worst thing is, is that I don’t do anything about it. I mean, here I am, acknowledging that I’m letting life pass me by, but I’m not doing anything about it. It’s that entire concept of actually doing it, that bugs me. I mean, what’s it all for? Call me depressed kid all you want, but what do you get out of doing something? Sure, you might feel good about yourself for a while, but what happens in the end? You die. That’s what happens. Sorry to put it so bluntly, but that’s the way it is. You die. I die. We all die. Isn’t that an absolute bitch? I mean, even if we build some glorious foundation for our family to live on, what’s the point of it? We don’t get to see it, cos we’ll most likely be dead. We won’t even know if it’s being put to good use.

I don’t think I’ll be posting on here for a while, or at least until something changes. Which, I doubt will be any time soon. So here’s a little something to finish off with.

Now, this isn’t mine, so I won’t take all the credit for it, but I did a bit of editing, so I’ll take a bit of credit for myself.

“Everyone knows that there is that time when you’re just tired.

Not because of a lack of sleep and not because you’re out of breath. You’re just tired of how everything is and the people around you. Tired of pretending to be yourself and taking less than you deserve. 

You’re just tired of life, and you’re tired of living.”

Tumblr, that is my life.

I’m sick of deja-vu, tripping out over a girl, who isn’t you.

Here’s my latest one, Tumblr.

Enjoy.

take this hope and hold it like you would a rose

a stem of thorns, take care on where your fingers close

like stains of red, a love that’s left all petals torn

of prayers spent on fleeting scents and dreams unborn

to wait the whims, a hundred sins on letters lost

an air bereft of redolently cast-out thoughts

elate a hymn, inhale the din of breaths on pause

ensnare inept words bluntly wept by lines now lost

(expect the worst, hope for a whisper

“pluck me now or wait ‘til never”)

rake the winds to catch a whiff of pasts and prose

mistakes once hidden deep in rifts of Lethe’s notes

inspire the wine to bathe the lies of time retold

retire the mind that longed to find delirium’s hold

to trace the green upon her skin; a flower’s ghost

with hair once seen as leaves dancing on summer shows

when crimson blooms, the bush will swoon to red’s disease

like hearts consumed by seconds strewn without release

taste this truth as sweet as lips unkissed and bare

of nectars dripping rhapsodic upon nowhere

accept the last saccharine trance to glance her face

the inch, the vast untraced distance of placid days

define the masquerade of wasting memories

imply the smiles unpaid by stoic revelries

desire a gift, design the grift to steal the grace

thus go and sift through pollen drifts but stay unfazed

(expect the worst, hope for a whisper

“pluck me now or wait ‘til never”)

keep paradise until tonight, until dawn

escaping sighs will play the light, languid and wan

as breaths deny the lungs that try to stay alive

shall all these die like seeds untried on soils and mire

if not for wisps of fading bliss, forlorn the yearns

all but a glimpse of emptiness is what you’ll earn

and evermore drown in euphoric blind repose

so take this hope and hold it like you would a rose

expect the worst, hope for a whisper

“pluck me now, i’ll wait forever”

Welcome back, Tumblr.

Hmm, what have I been up too lately?

Well, truth be told, I don’t really know. It’s been an interesting past week or so, to say the least.  Maybe that’s why I wrote this piece, although, it’s not really a piece, well, actually, I don’t know what it is. A short story, perhaps?

I was told that Heaven would be anything that my heart desired. A thought, a place or a memory from which I derived a true satisfaction in life.
For me that is a crystalline sandy beach, at that precise time of the day, where the fiery sun is just waking over the remote horizon and the moon hangs as a phantom of the night in the placid cherry sky.

The early morning mist, breaking overhead, as a flimsy cobweb in the invigorating dawn breeze, the kind that wakes humanity with a tender kiss upon the cheek.
I sit pushing my hands into the grainy sand about me, cold to the fingertips and moist beneath its dusty veneer, feeling the resistance of a billion years of life caress my palms.
I sit alone hearing only the untamed waves roll against the shore and the soft breeze in my ears.

Timeless splendor and countless daybreak’s, to just immerse myself in a definitive freedom and meditate upon the vastness of life, except after life.
This is what I wished Heaven would be when I died, if only I’d known it was a literal situation. An undying suspension in a single thought, a single place, this ungodly memory.
Days became infinity and the sun rose and fell like a cosmic yo-yo, beauty became the most wearisome of mundane and lonesomeness (albeit my own choosing) became my own private Hell.

The vicissitudes of an endless moment had manifested in me, a state of too happy happiness and had led to a depression of unmatchable proportions. I cried for millennias, screamed voicelessly for an eon more.

My selfishness in death had made the water of my life poisonous and as I drank deeply from my lonesome chalice, I could feel in me a second death. A fatality of such sorrow, that tears crashed upon my face like the surf slapped the sand.
It was in but a millisecond of the universe that I had stood from my divine destiny, shook away the golden sand and walked toward the halcyon sea that called me forth.

The kind wind that had gracefully washed my face, whipped at the tear stained flesh of my corpse. The tide grew dispassionate and fierce, wave upon wave crashing and roaring with all the ferocity of history.
I strode with the determination and energy of a mission led man, watching as the footprints following me became dark chasms of hurt and neglect.

The aquamarine breakers spitting shards of watery beryl beads developed a frothy rabid smile and the sun grew cheerless, passing from luminous ocher, through a muddy umber, before dipping behind the far off distance as an enraged hue-less ball of fury and contempt.

Darkness enveloped the heavens that day, as I paced purposely toward my salty grave. I cried out for love and hope but found none, the heavens had ignobly given up my cause and I waded out, into the shadowy abyss.

The shore behind me crumbled away and fell into the cavernous tread marks of my scandal and I plowed onward to my momentary demise.

My lungs filled with a venomous saline sea and all the waters of memory coursed through my fibrous body. I had died for the second time. All was black, all was gone and like Adam and Eve of old, I had turned my back on Paradise.

I’m not sure why I wrote this, then again I’m not sure why I’ve written anything else.

Goodbye for now, Tumblr.

It’s strange, I’ve always been better at writing depression pieces than I have optimistic pieces, I wonder why.

Anyway;

Laying in my bed with a sickening cold sweat

Emptying these bottles in order to help me forget

Inflicting pain on others isn’t what I meant to do

But doing drugs and drinking booze are how I’m getting over you.

Without you in my life there’s a void needing to be filled

And I’ve found it can be filled with red prescription pills

With a bottle in one hand and the other a mixed drink

A combination of the two leads me to my kitchen sink.

I gave you every second of my life that wasn’t mine to give

Pieces of me lay on the floor begging just to live

Put me back together like a puzzle of a man

And once I’m finally whole I won’t need that crutch to stand.

A hypocrite creating a facade to cover his tracks

Once the cards are dealt, I’ll be lost within the cracks

I’ll curl into a ball and remember what I once had

And how when I mourned you everything I loved went bad.

I saw an image today. An interesting, thought provoking image. It was a comparison between the past and the present in terms of music. It was titled, the advancement of African-American music.

On the top it had an established figure, a man in a tight-fit suit, holding an instrument, a flute, if I’m not wrong.

Next to him, it had the lyrics of the song, along with the musical notes that went with the song.

The presentation of the man himself was enough to see that it demanded respect.

Below was an image of Lil-Wayne, a modern artist who’s sale records are in the millions.

It showed Wayne grinning, topped off with a hat turned around the wrong way and his braids streaming down the back of his neck.

Next to it were the lyrics ” Damn I hate a shy bitch, Don’t you hate a shy bitch? Yeah, I ate a shy bitch”.

The entire thing about the image though, is that it was meant to be something that would make you laugh, but, at the chance of sounding like a “fag” or whatever, it actually made me sad.

Now, I’m not one to judge. I’ll admit that I’m a fan of Lil-Wayne, his songs are good, they’re catchy and, being honest, I would take listening to his music over some age-old music.

But, what struck me is, is this a good thing? I think I speak for nearly everyone here when I say that music is essential. Whether we’re on the train, at home, or just chilling back, it’s almost certain that there will be some sort of music playing. Now, not that this is a bad thing, but, how did it become normal for us to listen to things such as “yeah, I ate a shy bitch”? 

The thoughts that have been running through my mind back and forth are ; what is it that we’re taking from these words.? Are we just cramming our heads with, what is seemingly, filth? Why are we allowing this to happen? We just sit idly by, and don’t notice exactly what’s been said. It’s as though we’re oblivious to the lyrics and are more so ensnared by the beat that plays along with the lyrics.

All of this can’t go without saying that there are some good artists these days, you know, artists who are actually singing of something that matters, but, it seems that there has been an influx of these sorts of songs that are just garbage.

I guess, to add insult to injury, as I write this, his lyrics repeat themselves in my head, and I seem to smile, all the while knowing that what’s being said is really just a bunch of drivel. 

I can only sit and wonder as to what went wrong? At what point did we allow this , this, uhh, shit, to be known as music? it’s not as though I could perform a song better than him, or write something that would be as good as him, but, what I wonder is, is that because I am incapable of doing so? Or would it simply not be seen as music, given that the lyrics I write wouldn’t contain things such as “It’s my turn to put this pussy on your side burns” or “& I got a nigga, grocery bags”.

One can only wonder.

This morning I saw death, quiet as a mouse

It had opened a window and snuck in my house

I awoke all of a sudden, only to find

Death had claimed a loved one, left only memories behind

It has me thinking, there must be something more

Dreams we should fulfill, worlds we must explore

In my dying breath, will I ask what did it all mean?

Will I understand life, death and the in-between?

Many people have religion, say that is all you need

Church, family, prayer.. then you will succeed

Follow the ten commandments, keep your faith in God

Attract Jesus into your heart like a lightning rod

But religion is like a tree, each branch a denomination

Every leaf on each tree only a smart part of the population

Every tree it’s own species, some call God a different name

Yet they all hold true to their faith, all they all the same?

How can one person be right, yet another person be wrong?

Why do only some go to heaven while the rest must move along?

Why do some pray to statues, while others pray to a guide?

Are they all not asking for advice to what they feel inside?

Religion is different for everyone, everybody has their own

Some hold no faith at all, they refuse to believe in the unknown

Instead they believe if you live an honest life, and with love you surround

When you die you just die, and are buried in the ground

Who’s right? Who’s wrong? I can’t tell you, we all make our own choice

Observe those you admire how they live, listen to your own voice

And if you have a dream, don’t just stand still in a trance

Work to make it happen!! You only get one chance

So this morning I said goodbye to my old dearest friend

His funeral played out in my mind, I was the only one to attend

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I wonder, when did dieing get so routine?

A raindrops fall as I reflect, life, death and the in-between…