If you have no heart, it doesnt mean you're evil, but rather that you have no emotions and act solely on rationality. Simply meaning: youre unbiased. (-via txt)

(posted via txt)- Memories of a man that died, leave me breathless now, as if a vacuum tube were attached to my mouth. My lungs contract to the size of raisins, breathless. . .

To: Anonymous #4 (Be at peace)

Written today from 6:43pm-6:50pm, taken from a journal.

Hopefully rage has subsided
like the distant memories of yesteryear.
I also hope this to be the last entry in this journal,
the last token of rememberance of you.
I hope you are at peace,
many levels below the ground.
One cannot hate the dead.
So, as long as you don't form into a collective mist
of my imagination and contact me from beyond,
I am at peace with you, too.
I presume you are in hell,
but hope you escape someday,
while the devil sleeps
and you hop the pearly gates
and rest amongst the grassy meadows in heaven.
I well up inside, happy that my thoughts of you
no longer tie you to this Earth,
but calmly set you free to the next.
I will remember the good times.
And since your passing,
I grew angry.
I went from being angry at you,
to being angry at your passing.
I fed a cancerous tumor that grew within.
Therefore it is necessary to stop
or it will be the death of me, too.
You made me "wish impossible things."
But now, in my peace, I realize
the impossible does not exist.
That is why it is impossible.
Therefore, wishing it, does not exist either.
And neither do you... anymore.
If I knew where your grave was
I'd take you flowers.
But maybe it is best to stay away,
and let you rest...
let us rest.

Collection of "To: Annonymous" #'s 1-3

The following 3 "writings" (not quite poems, not quite essays) were written in sequence in a journal. Please feel free to comment on all four or any of the four.

"To: Anonymous #1 (the beginning) -  Written 9-16-09 @ 9:09pm

I wish you would demand for me.
And yet, I covet thee.
I'm starting to forget the features on your face
and the gestures that it made.
The impressions on my hands
from your touch are starting to convex.
The tone of your wit and the volume of your laughter
are strange to my ears now.
Reminiscing is not so frequent,
and its not as sad as I had feared.
I'm at peace with the joy we gave birth to,
though I'll be nostalgic for the future we can't make.
In a little corner of my heart a muscle lurks
at the thought of a possibility that we will once again
inhabit the same universe.
For you are light years away,
and I yearn for the smiles you drew on my face.
The reason people cannot describe "bittersweeness"
is because it is a contradiction.
It is the space between today and tomorrow,
today and yesterday;
It is the space between milliseconds;
It is the space between now and the moment I just lost.
How do you define the undefinable,
when all I can compare it to, is you:
The ultimate non-definition? (undefinition, undefinable).

"To: Anonymous #2 (Sick)" - Written 9-28-09 @ 9:47pm
Farewell old friend.
I bid you this farewell like a great story that was just told.
Thinking about you now,
is like having dry hands in winter.
And it gets to the point where the thought of you
makes my stomach churn.
I think its safe to say
that the memory of you repulses me;
You repulse me,
and I have no problem with that.


"To: Anonymous #3 (Amongst hope)" - Written 1/10/10 @ 4:40pm
I never knew how it felt
to wish never to see someone again.
I run the risk of someone prying into my life
by immortalizing these words on paper.
Immortal to all but fire and hands.
Today I don't want to keep making 360 degree turns.
I will, day by day, make a turn by degree.
And I will obtain freedom at 180.
I've developed the fear of everything.
After losing myself in so many people
I've forgotten who I am.
I need to break away and remember my own name:
Who was I once, or who I thought I was,
who I am now, and who I had become.
I'll wait on the shores of California
for the sun to come up.
Hopefully, the Earth decides to rotate the opposite way
just for me.
I need it.
Because otherwise, I'll sit and wait
until my feet fuse into the sand and I dissolve into glass.
Meanwhile, my heart which once beat for distant loves,
was jerked around by news of a ghost
which lurks closer and closer.
So now I live fearful of surprise every time
I walk around a corner.
The element of surprise.
So now I walk with a deflated heart,
slumped over and sunk in from all the jerking.
Jerks have a tendency to jerk you around, jerk off,
and jerk you out of your mind, as well as
jerk your mind out of your body.
I write inspired by sorrow and hatred;
The seeds of most poetry.
However, I'm encouraged by a distant fellow,
and a traveler of sorts that with a phrase or two,
flicked on the switch to illuminate a part of my mind
which has been dormant for over 20 years.
(slipping into a discussion on inner peace)
A part of the mind which scientists still don't know why
it takes so long for a human
to realize it exists in them.
Its called "rationality," which causes inner peace.
Peace within ones self.
Not peace dependent on objects, people, or dreams.
Peace of being alive.
A peace where you're glad you're you.
A peace where if you lose all possessions
and everyone around you dies,
you'll still have it amongst the sorrow.
It's hard to obtain personal peace,
as most people mistake themselves in having it.
They are happy, but not solely for themselves,
but rather they're happy because
they have great families, a nice job,
perfect spouses, great friends, etc.
But if all of that were gone...
would they maintain that happiness and peace of mind?
Probably not.
They would let fear and sorrow overwhelm and consume them.
So believe me when I say that in my opinion,
that not even monks have achieved that status.

Lion Wax

So, despite I knew of its existence, I BARELY (embarrassing) sat down to listen to the songs on this blog. And let me tell you... this is the type of music that plucks a string in my poet soul.
I'm proud to say that I will get started on some poems centered around these songs, soon. Meanwhile, enjoy!

http://lionwax.blogspot.com/

Oldies but goodies #2

Written4-6-09 @ 6:08pm
I wish my eyes were made of glass,
so that in sadness,
I could break them.

written 0-27-03 @ 11:03pm
The only way I can vividly remember a faded memory is with evidence. A painfully pleasant experience. God, I miss you. Where are you? Did I chase you away? I need some miracles here.

written 11-28-03  at 7:30pm
My mind is the only tool I have against the world.

Writeen 11-29-03 @ 11:49pm
Dreams are the only things we truly own. They are our perfect worlds. Dreams are our wishes. Nightmares are our fears. We can have everything and lose everything. But can we really handle it?

Oldies but goddies #1

Written 6-24-03 (My fathers birthday, and the month of my high school graduation, written with very "teeny" cliche phrases):
A bone chilling sorrow fills part of my heart that feeds off of some unknown anger in the depths of rage. A frustrating and alarming panic ignites the unknown length of my fuse...

Written 8-16-03
It's sick to realize horrible the world can be. A world we have invaded. Capable minds able to lie, deceive, abuse, betray, hurt, and abandon. Love is not something that can be created into truth. It cant overcome sidetracked attractions and lust. Love is a horrible thing to lose, so most never have it. Love fades like color.

Written 6-21-03
The world was a lonely place once. The grass lived among the air, and the Earth's components lived as one. The air took our place and the closest things to us were the things farthest away from us now. The wind would speak to the sun and tell it to run, for a storm was coming. The next path that would lead to a purpose, would make you wander twenty times around the world. Who are we? A question no answer could come from. We are blank faces that have titles and accomplishments in form of words that we tag on our lives and drag behind like rusty cans. We are invading this once solitary vacuous space on Earth to do nothing and not be anything.

Little crumbs gathered at work..

-You ok? you look a little dim. let me light you on fire.

-The scariest type of person is the Unscrupulous one, as they have nothing to lose. Food for thought.

-Non-edible Fish are the most high maintenance of ornaments.

-For mondays i could care less.
For tuesdays and weds, i want my meds.
thursday, friday, happy days.

So I've realized some people are truly unable to bear love..

So a while ago I had a few chats with some gents that claimed there are men (more so than women) who are perfectly happy not feeling love for another human being. They feel self sufficient, are not close to family, feel no love for friends or significant others. I found this hard to believe but over time slowly accepted the ideologies of these men in that there are some which cannot possibly feel anything for another human being and live at peace this way and forever. I met a few and let me tell you its an incredibly sad thing for me, as I cannot be this way, but its highly intriguing. My only advice is to avoid getting close to these types of people since any attachment you may form will be one-sided. Speaking to these guys who helped me understand this illuminated me a lot on the subject and I thank them all for it, they were very polite and not bitter as you would expect, just apathetic towards the rest of humanity. Interesting.
Here is an excerpt from the book "White Teeth" by Zadie Smith, which discusses it in the following manner...

"What made us think that anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking, malfunctioning in some way? And particularly if they replace us with god, or a weeping madonna, or the face of Christ in a ciabatta roll-- then we call them crazy. Deluded. Regressive. We are so convinced of the goodness of ourselves, and the goodness of our love, we cannot bear to believe that there might be something more worthy of love than us, more worthy of worship. Greeting cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all the time." - Zadie Smith (awesome author by the way)

"With a man in mind"

Written 1/13/10 from 3:57pm-4:18pm.

There's a man I see
in the darkest depths of a haze
that time and distance created.
He stands, never slouching,
with a hand in his pocket
and the other nervously fiddling its fingers.

He is self-sufficient to the point where
he carries all that he needs in the word in
the pockets of his clothes, which are bulky
on his waif-like physique.

His eyes are apathetic to any direction his vision points.
His gaze screams "come,"
while his brows are like warning signs against them.
And his mouth forms a type of slanted smirk which screams:
"I am one," and "you are worthless."

Sometimes he slouches,
when I see him sit.
Never did a slouch seem more antisocial and alluring than his.

Life and death are hidden somewhere
in the depths of his pants.

The way he folds over his hand at the wrist,
with the delicate grace of a swan,
to tuck the hair behind his ear
seems to lock me in a trance
which I catch myself in from time to time.

This is a man of self-sufficiency.
He needs neither food, nor human beings,
nor oxygen to survive.
However, he creates an "O" with his hand for pleasure.

He is alone,
and I am the only one who knows he truly exists.
I visit him where he lives... in my mind.
And maybe (hopefully) someday, upon forgetting him,
he will die.

Rx's commandments for justification

*Rx's commandments for justification*:

Its not "lying" its called "playing pretend."

Its not being "cruel," but rather "making an "unconscious mistake".

Its not "being unscrupulous" but rather exercising no inhibitions.

Its not being "shady," but rather "hiding from the sun."

... Say que qué?? Thank you for your time.

The duration and death of love

Love takes time to cultivate. It can take time to die, but can also die in an instant. Dont underestimate an unnatural creation. - me

Frustration

"Frustration a common emotional response to opposition. Related to anger and disappointment, it arises from the perceived resistance to the fulfillment of individual will. The greater the obstruction, and the greater the will, the more the frustration is likely to be."

My obstruction: The inability to express rage. Scary.

Opposition: Familial taboos.

Get it?

Welcome!

So.. I have come to the conclusion that I have a lot to say lol. Go figure.. Anyway, I write most of this "stuff" in notebooks or on MySpace or on FaceBook or twitter and I figured.. "why the heck dont I have just ONE place to stick all this crap?" Well there you go. Welcome to the plate that will hold the mental crumbs that fall out of my head. Enjoy and dust off as necessary.