Liminality

Would you hate me if told you that the human existence
is just the eye of a spiritual monsoon?
and what if i told you that the skin of a butterfly
is just another cocoon?
this is not about death
it's about savoring your breath
until your breathing is through

To stay open
to keep your fears in isolation
from evidence
from the stimuli present
 in the very air that you breathe to keep your heart beating
The very same heart, metaphorically speaking,
that you are breaking
to keep your mind all patched up and functional.

and as long as you refuse to close
keep the midnight oil burning
you'll have to keep a gun under the counter for deterrence
Defense
god forbid, its your essence they're stealing!

You remove the lid
stick your hand in
the cookie jar never pilfers back
So much heartache
so many masks
they never quite got the definition of your distress

People can beat and bruise you, yes
but the worst pain you'll ever experience
comes from the lies you tell yourself

Momentary

How long until i lift off
lifts continue to give me
trips to the top of mid-grade mountains
yet I still claim dominance
supreme reign over all
who have accomplished this
more than this
and similar feats

See the bridges under which i crawl
golden gates, Akashi, Erasmus
gargantuan, metallic, masterful
what shallow claims
applied with such depth

I've walked past the same set of stairs
for four years
and never had the inclination to climb them

I keep seeing my reflection in the same puddles
the same pair of eyes peer back
i peel back the thin film of optimism
this mask of human indolence

and see the sights as they present themselves
to my eyes, ever-sinking, my inevitable demise
they see the events that seek to ruin my life

the change, the dread!

the dread
the shifting of the scene
the side-scrolling landscape
we can't peer past the edge
but we're moving at the speed
our characters are progressing

and he who is controlling
who is he controlling?
who is he?
is he?

Feeding Spoon

Since the beginning
Nature has juxtaposed weakness and strength
man accentuates the differences

underground rivers became wells
well-wishing made lakes
and coaxed the beaten paths
into the sidewalks they became

Man began walking down these sidewalks
between which ants became safe

finding shelter in the crevices
and man tries to preclude
his steps with giant, rubbery, grooved
optimum comfort-suited shoes

and the ants, with their benevolence
stare up at the mountain-sized grooves
from the canyon-sized crevices
and benevolently just move on through

we carry this culture of destruction
this desire to alter
the ever-impending need to improve;
re-craft nature in our image
when it was she who originally sprang us from her womb

we are the rebellious children of a dying world
worshiping our own creations
while consuming its food
thrusting forth a sword of chaos
pretending it's a feeding spoon

Repeal Your Peace

So your human critique debuts to thunderous applause

Even the subjects love it,

they dont even pause

Because it seems that those worth writing negative reviews about

never recognize their own flaws

I'm like the red headed stepchild

Ironically enough

this recessive trait is NOT a curse

So I guess its just bad luck

I try to inspire because,

since the hole in my heart is never filled

I have nothing tangible to give

But I know there must be something

I just don't know what the fuck that is

And I try to find happiness at the sight of your ascent

But how can I? When every takeoff is accompanied by an equally ambitious kick

as the only one in the blast zone,

I'm the only one hit

So please forgive, your highness,

if my recovery takes a bit

It's pretty hard to bounce back from an impact you've created yourself

When you go from being a helping hand to being the hired help

remember what they said about the contents of a book being reshelved

You told me that blood diamonds would only sparkle in the fires of hell

But I guess you were wrong...

I'm giving back my second chance

I don't need it anymore

I came to speak with a queen

But it turns out that she's just the king's whore

Talking is only further causing this;

Its the great depression

To a second world war

I'm over it...

Practice

Tell me, what are these things you hear me scream to no avail?

as im stranded out at sea, motionless, with no sail?

with no way to get home

and every way to break through

I've been in a makeshift parade to

Make sure we make due

There's clearly a reason you never write songs about you

It's because if you're gonna sing about it then it damn sure better be true

and since you don't the first thing

about knowing your innermost pain

you just blow up your first name

in lights

and choke on this little bit of fame

which is nice

because thats all you ever wanted

when you first heard your own voice

recorded playing back

with members of your church singing praise

you were addicted to that

so far be it from me to try to condemn you

just because i was haunted by art one day and to this day it continues

just because i can see what i think you think you see

but in a more expansive venue

not with regard to number of seats;

those numbers concern you

but with regard to the quality of my feats:

loving what i live for and not having to pretend to

sorry to preach

but your convalescence is stifling to see

to say the least

i really think you have a need to be re-teached

and i may need to learn verb tenses

but certain things are more important

like keeping the earth underneath your feet

Swing for the fences

and earn your keep

thanks for proving me right

it really makes it easy

I see society's really done a number on you

you try to put it in a function and wonder when it'll stop repeating

Foresight never really was your thing...

Stagnation

I hate this place.

This catholic college preperatory circus

Playing charades

Learning the rules to a game

but never ascertaining its purpose

These are the best years of our lives

Make sure to learn something!

Try every sexual position before you get out of high school

so that when you really start living nothing will ever surprise you

Practice following through on the rest of your drives, too.

Make sure their power matches the accuracy of your putts

Handicap's a five

Still rising

Still...

My rank outreaches the ceiling of the system

And shows me to the cellar door?

It turns out that if you shoot through the ceiling of the basement

you still have to start out with your back against the ground floor

Stagnation...

Goodbye...

Stag Nation

I've arrived

at a crossroads.

Not sure why

I hate this place.

Four years of preparation?

All i really needed was Zamyatin's brand of debilitated imagination

Plus I feel as though I'm paying a price

For what I thought was part of the process

For not fitting in with the "college likeness"

I guess I have a lot to learn

I guess.

Regardless...

the years progress...

still dying

Still...

Pep talk to myself

I wrote this forever ago, but it continues to be what I try to live by, and I thought I'd post it, so that maybe it can help someone else out too, if even just a little bit.

Keep fighting your own good fight
until the world knows its right
But don't take action until you're out of sight
raise hell from underground
so that you can be untouchable, and when you're found
you'll be called a warrior 'cuz your still around
And I know you're a wreck now
But soon you'll be reckless and worshiped for it

the truth lies at the base of that pillar of salt
in the thoughts of she who looked back and got caught
well each grain holds a culmination of faults
deeper still and locked in a vault
lies a realization: the mind is blind and sick of trying
and yet we find time to sit and sulk

The Octoroon (not really though)

I found this in my notebook under the words 'The Octoroon'

**Clears throat self-righteously**

Say, can I give you the tools to build,

A structure bearing some resemblance to a life fulfilled?

Tell me, have you ever wondered how as you grow older time begins to disappear?

Why, this is because a child lives for the day, a teenager lives for the month, and an adult lives for the year.

Time seems to pass when you truly desire it to,

But wishing it away, well indirectly you're simply wishing to die.

Patience...

Follow the arpeggio.
Joined in one sound. It all melds together to form the sequence
Anger, irritation, these things have sequins.
They'll dance to the aforementioned rhythm till they're free.
Then the song will make no sense
And sound random
This world will end any minute. What does it matter if its tomorrow? 5 minutes from now? We can change the world, our world by changing a frame of mind in a second
Armageddon, salvation, true happiness.
Mountains part, that's right there's soul in this
Shake ur ass cuz the devil wants to see it still
the music is always there.
The music is time!
it has a beginning, it definitely has an end, but u can keep playing if you want it
And u can always go back, yes its still in your head
Experience? Now there is a funny twist.
Not through the senses, not through the mind, but through the spirit.
the source is there, beneath the wreckage. Go now, little abraham, and take it
Your pen is your might, the lord your blanket
so many things you have yet to understand, the patriarch of patriots
please give a hand? i can't fucking bear to stand.
Its hard to command, my father, my brother my son.
when will i pass?
When will i meet the one?
You've got your walker and a brown paper bag for a coffin
And we wait just like a group of nuns
I've got to be humble
I've got to be patient.

Deus ex Machina...(Don't worry, life's just a fucked up parking job; it's not perfect but it'll do while we're here)

Never before have i envied machines
And why should I, its like God envying
humans...it just doesn't happen.
But the question is, why would you ever
create something in your own image
without making some change that you
think makes it a little more effective? A touch-up here... little photoshopping there, it can't hurt after all. While i lack the authority or physical maturity or frankly the patience for the patriarchy to comment on the actions of God, I at least have the right to say that i think that machines are the perfect counterparts of mankind, for there are no emotions to link them to such an imperfect institution. For all of my disgust at the imperfections of social systems that get obstructed by the darker side of human nature, the fact remains that my feelings for people sometimes supercede my convictions. However, these cumbersome feelings would not exist if i were a machine, like a camera, for instance. I could simply record what was happening and see a situation for what it is, regardless of who is acting. My only desire would be to observe completely objectively. In my current human form, such a thing is impossible, for i have several ridiculous desires which in no way make me more capable of fulfilling my purpose, yet make me take in a picture as skewed as my understanding of the nature of sanity, which is another story in itself.

as for now, an organized collection of ambiguous thoughts:

To escape the temptations beckoning me
is as easy as sticking my nose in the

clouds

But Isaac says its gotta come down
And when it does, and every smell makes its rounds,
I find i must indulge as long as my toes find the ground
But I'm only here for thirty years, I'll announce it and collapse
Then be right back for a three day

relapse

Turns out humanity's a lot more
complicated than divinity;
even infinitely, perhaps ;)

just a (somewhat ambitious) observation from your friendly neighborhood stargazer...

Regards,
Shaman

Fiona Has Wings Part 2

What happened to you, O Warrior?
Who made it through one to thirty irrecountable horrors?
Who remained brightly colored
Through all of the blank slates and unsightly troubles?
As I look to both sides and find no one,
I turn slowly to my reflection, and see nothing.
But, fuck it all, i find something.

I find it all.

I will not go down without the fight of all fights.
If I ever take a fall,
I will take the season as the moon pulls the tide
And get back up as surely as the sun does rise
And if I ever give up, it will be to die.

Nothing short of this is living
And everyone will know this for the rest of all time
I shalln't follow, but be followed
Because, rest assured, I will unite heart, body, and mind

Scarlet Girl of the Trees

The only condition that justifies the state of a forest is loneliness, so is she a part of it?
And if so, what is her purpose?

She waits as if watching, no sleeping, no stopping.

Whereas humanity proves its existence by means of action,
she, as do her foliate brethren, proves her existence by existing.

Waiting as if watching, no sleeping, no stopping.

I wish for something more.
She wishes for something, and that something is to want for nothing.

Oh, the bliss of natural objectivity...

Fiona Has Wings

At the end of that yearlong lifetime, i wept a sea of tears as vast and seamless as the ocean itself

Before, i had placed all of my self worth on her, and since she was happy with me, i was happy with me

When she found someone else i was nothing to her and deep inside i agreed

Amidst all the suffering, one phrase formed itself in the darkness:

Fiona Has Wings

What about me then?

What about me, I screamed

Until that point, much like Fiona, I had forgotten to scream

Fourteen years i forgot to scream, and was left alone to face countless demons

Below, I felt the peril of devilish deeds

And was stripped of the innocence which should've taken a lifetime to bleed

Now, I remind myself

Fiona was grounded at eleven, yet Fiona Has Wings!

She somehow managed to survive hellish things....

So Shouldn't i have wings?

Shouldn't i have Wings?!

But Who, i ask myself, who is me?

Is "me" a creation, is it what other people see?

If only i could find someone to give "me" definition

Someone who loves....me

It is because of this hope that i stop asking questions and choose simply to be

and even more simply, it is because of this hope that Fiona Has Wings

It is the hope of this girl that allows me to be...

because of this girl,

I Have Wings

Yes, I have WINGS