tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75090526964436492172024-03-21T01:26:19.211-07:00The Famigerate[fr. L. fama, fame + gerere, to carry]
obs. to divulge or disseminate; found now only in olde dictionaries {Cockeram, Bailey}
hence: famigeration, famigerousDutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-21742803066833095842011-08-26T10:27:00.000-07:002012-02-12T21:25:45.755-08:00Once here, Suddenly gone<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">The taste of salt that streams down your cheeks keeps your heart skipping beats.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Rapidly your chest begins to cave in on itself.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">At first you feel that it’s just the shortness of breath and the tightening of your lungs, then you realize that the hole in your chest where you heart once lay is imploding on itself.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Looking down and seeing your rib cage and your life crushing in on yourself is the sad and familiar scenario that you strive to let go.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">It encapsulates your entire existence in a blanket of love that turns into a straight jacket of self-loathing pain and a justified comfort that you’re all too accepting of.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">What makes this stop? Who makes you grab yourself and extract you from this life as you know it and save yourself? </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Most will say you have to do it on your own; but the likeliness of that is slim to none. The Devil that wears Prada holds the key to the heart that has never won.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Falling once again into the abyss of everything that hurts, everything made sense until yanked away again with no regard of your life, as you spin out of control living a life again full of spite.</span></p>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-71506553891263629132011-06-03T03:15:00.001-07:002011-06-03T03:16:54.163-07:00In Perils I Fall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hiA21wDYRZgEpgBRt84I8PvEohUKLerp9Fe7KOTtff-uwVpM3vpKxFrC5dcwnI-hucR3GHj4KswBnkVNMhkuVxl0OieHJdrSs7lEweBeE8OVs5gmziLZVp3ZRGUuAyZMt9byg9t-AIAq/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-06-03+at+3.06.11+AM.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hiA21wDYRZgEpgBRt84I8PvEohUKLerp9Fe7KOTtff-uwVpM3vpKxFrC5dcwnI-hucR3GHj4KswBnkVNMhkuVxl0OieHJdrSs7lEweBeE8OVs5gmziLZVp3ZRGUuAyZMt9byg9t-AIAq/s320/Screen+shot+2011-06-03+at+3.06.11+AM.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613935347773557362" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 16px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Rough night... hopefully I can find the peace to sleep. </p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">I doubt it, ghosts haunt me, fear cradles me in order to not allow for peace,</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">lost in my own heart I have nothing left that she hasn't taken,</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">perilous attempts for a love that doesn't love in return, not in the way I desire and need,</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">searching in the crevasses of hell trying to find my path through the valley of death,</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">welcoming it with open arms and free-spirit,</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">Love once again the enemy of the heart, logical the mind tries to make sense of it all...</p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1.5em; ">nothing left, the last bead of blood drains from my veins as the sought-after love will never again take this now loveless soul</p></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-31256640159439330272011-02-08T13:53:00.000-08:002011-02-08T14:09:45.169-08:00Hopefully FoundLight Shining To Me...<div>Plight Not My Enemy Today.</div><div>Strife Doesn't Plague Me Today.</div><div>Life Seems Much More Enjoyable Than The Weeks Before.</div><div><br /></div><div>BJS -- 2kXI</div><div>Dutch</div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-76105403114644624012011-02-04T00:08:00.000-08:002011-02-04T00:15:27.277-08:00Drowning in a Convergence of RiversSands of time drowning me in an empty sea of lies<div>The way she used to look me in the eyes,</div><div>Wonderment is all that can be </div><div>Because there is nothing left in me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The darkness between us grows with each passing day</div><div>Eventually, there will be no recognition of what once lay</div><div>The smiles and laughter have been replaced</div><div>Painted smiles drawn upon my face</div><div>Knowing that this is the only way to keep up my pace.</div><div><br /></div><div>Clutching onto the brach of life that grows from the side of the cliff</div><div>All I want to know is when I let let go how far is the drop and what if.</div><div>Streaming wind assaults my body as I fall into a crystal ball of eternity</div><div>It's a space of which there is no time, no love, no emotion</div><div>It's perfect blissfulness of not living nor dying, but stuck in between </div><div>Awake looking for the coins upon my eyes and their bright sheen.</div><div><br /></div><div>The great guide, Charon sets me upon the tour of the Lethe, Eridanos, and Alpheus</div><div>I find my escort to be hungrily grappling at my soul, taking no riches</div><div>I come to the convergence of Styx, Phlegethon, Acheron and Cocytus</div><div><br /></div><div>Is this what we live for all our lives? </div><div>To be deceived and devoured by all the sweet sounding and enchanting lies?</div><div>Certainly there is more to the virtue of life</div><div>The battle of life always seems to be caught in the rough</div><div>There no reason to try and come out of it without falling for the bluff.</div><div><br /></div><div>A notebook is held and read day in and day out,</div><div>Everyday it takes a different life, but it surely is one that I can live without.</div><div><br /></div><div>BJS -- 2kXI</div><div>Dutch</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large;"><br /></span></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-66928667301234364492011-02-03T23:36:00.000-08:002012-02-12T21:31:16.553-08:00Sands of time drowning me in an empty sea of lies<div>The way she used to look me in the eyes,</div><div>Wonderment is all that can be </div><div>Because there is nothing left in me.</div><div><br /></div><div>The darkness between us grows with each passing day</div><div>Eventually, there will be no recognition of what once lay</div><div>The smiles and laughter have been replaced</div><div>Painted smiles drawn upon my face</div><div>Knowing that this is the only way to keep up my pace.</div><div><br /></div><div>Clutching onto the branch of life that grows from the side of the cliff</div><div>All I want to know is when I let let go how far is the drop, and what if.</div><div>Streaming wind assaults my body as I fall into a crystal ball of eternity</div><div>It's a space of which there is no time, no love, no emotion</div><div>It's perfect blissfulness of not living nor dying, but stuck in between </div><div>Awake looking for the coins upon my eyes and their bright sheen.</div><div><br /></div><div>The great guide, Charon sets me upon the tour of the Lethe, Eridanos, and Alpheus</div><div>I find my escort to be hungrily grappling at my soul, taking no riches</div><div>I come to the convergence of Styx, Phlegethon, Acheron and Cocytus</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:sans-serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; ">Is this how it all ends? </span></span></span></span></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-23151086439209976962011-02-03T02:37:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:47:19.188-08:00Find MeFollow Me...<div>No, I really shouldn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Follow Me...</div><div>No, it really wouldn't be prudent.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ahh, c'mon, Follow Me..</div><div>Is it gunna hurt?</div><div><br /></div><div>Silly question, Follow Me:</div><div>True, I guess I should learn to love again.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here we float in a state of bliss, nothing he's ever felt like this...</div><div>So pure, so true, so everything in you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Follow Me...</div><div>For why, and where, do we need to go?</div><div><br /></div><div>Follow Me, I've never mislead you in the past.</div><div>No, you're correct, you've taught me love in it's purest.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now at this time we are at a fork in the road.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't Follow Me, for we never were... You should have known.</div><div><br /></div><div>BJS -- 2kXI</div><div>Dutch</div><div> </div><div><br /></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-5776427780607045142011-02-03T02:16:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:37:14.344-08:00In The CutProcessing the pain is a choice from your conscious mind, not always a choice you're ready for, but at some point, one, or something, must be accountable for all the weary dreams that feel as if they are unsurmountable.<div><br /></div><div>Driving shots of adrenaline will always be a part of dealing what's always lying within. To feel alive, sometimes you need to take your self much closer to death, so close you feel the Grim Reaper standing behind you and you feel his breath. </div><div>You may recognize that you're alive, but why? Why are the best ones to die? Is it a lesson that they can lastly teach, in order for you to always take that extra reach?</div><div><br /></div><div>Your blood pressure pounds the closer you are to death, but it will in fact remind you that you are alive. And there's always something else left in the world worth your strive.</div><div><br /></div><div>After the job is done you're sent home to battle the inner demons and political bureaucracy, and biased views of your peers and your community. How is it that the same community you fight and hurt for, can discard us like a slab of beef right into the dirty shore? </div><div>Are they pushing to find the dirty-dirty? </div><div>When they meet it, it truly isn't glamourous or purty. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fathers and Mothers depend on us to protect their sons and daughters -- returning home they act to say, "Why bother?"</div><div><br /></div><div>BJS-- 2kXI</div><div>Dutch</div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-51826205960219794812011-02-03T01:56:00.000-08:002011-02-03T02:16:03.591-08:00She'll Lead Me To The EndDraggin' myself through the bitter-sweet nectar of life.<div>- Feelin' no strife.</div><div>- Can't find the one I will call wife.</div><div>- Launching through clouds through the supposed glory of life.</div><div>- Not quite able to open my eyes</div><div><br /></div><div>My heart is molded to her specification.</div><div>But yet she leaves it without prediction.</div><div>No, I don't see it; perhaps I shoulda kept my eyes open all along.</div><div>I can't feel it, I've lost my inner song.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Rush, Rush hurry lover come to me" That's what she needed to tend her wounds</div><div>Now I carry the wreckage that lies and coos.</div><div>There was a space kept in my soul</div><div>Heavy chested I can't feel it no mo'</div><div><br /></div><div>There's nothing one can do </div><div>To undo what she did do</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not tryin' to say this to in efforts to get to you, but once there was a love as true as could be </div><div>Now it's just a slain pain that cuts right through me</div><div><br /></div><div>Razor sharp that splits the skin</div><div>A cool beveled blade attempts to reveal what's within</div><div><br /></div><div>A whole nothing all lost because of the voices</div><div>Most have twins offering many choices</div><div><br /></div><div>There seems to be a no win</div><div>But she'll see through it till the end.</div><div><br /></div><div>BJS-- 2kXI </div><div>Dutch</div><div><br /></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-59817765015638520932011-01-03T21:36:00.000-08:002011-01-04T02:45:17.157-08:00It's Only Skin Deep; but Drives Through the SoulMy life spins out of control in a cosmic display of a giant nebulae that looks pretty and gorgeous from the outside, but once in the middle of it, it is a spiraling disaster of chaos and misunderstandings. I am not sure of the reasons why this is what is it, but it is what it is. <div><br /></div><div>Every single minute can only be alleviated with the raw power of steel on flesh, sheering through the passion of pain gliding the outer epidermis and bringing a sullen calm to the irrational depression which lays within. The chill of the blade caressing through the skin breaking loose the anguish and pain, why is it when I think it goes away it all comes back again? </div><div><br /></div><div>As the moments pass you sit and watch how your new display will play as it rolls down in its crimson trail, leaving the look of a canvass so pale. The warmth of the trickle barely fades you anymore, you yearn for the cold and the edge of the sword. Without a word, and a perhaps maybe only a slight grimace, you return to the cold world that brought you into this.</div><div><br /></div><div>--BJS<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px; "><sup id="cite_ref-4" class="reference" style="line-height: 1em; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "></sup></span><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-28937134575083565782010-04-29T18:58:00.000-07:002021-02-08T22:19:18.852-08:00Truths of a Fallen Soul<span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Unfortunate truths are what pulls at my soul;</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I feel I have no where else to go; </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I turn to rhymes and lyrics for show, but when it's all said and done.... </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I welcome you to the wrong side of my gun.
Peace, Love and Hate will always be the World's most common debate.</span></span></span></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-22678466595732263752010-04-10T00:16:00.000-07:002021-02-08T22:19:57.462-08:00The Obscurity of Being naked and Exposed to All to Witness<span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I am naked for the whole world to see. </span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I don't have any secrets, I don't have any lies. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It's only me here for judgement,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">But I've already judged myself, and have found an empty soul. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">This is me that I present myself for all to see. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Trust in no one and hurt won't follow you. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Love in everyone and there you will find pureness. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I am still looking for her</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span">.</span></span></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-24430216256917513292010-03-08T21:06:00.000-08:002021-02-08T22:20:14.180-08:00The Adrenalized Demon Inside<span class="Apple-style-span" face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11px;"><h3 class="GenericStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style="font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin: 0px; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; overflow: hidden; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Every time we suit up and roll out we roll the dice, at anytime we can die--</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Everyday is a ponder or perhaps a wonder of why it was we all don't live in that lie--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Due diligence with save us all, either your Creator, or a lil round ball [bullet reference]--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Locked and loaded is how we shall walk, some will say the same, but did they just talk the walk?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Infinitesimal seconds pass, next time it could be your own ass--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Walking through the valley of the shadow of death; Fuck that, I got NODS [Night Vision Reference] I can see the best--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Talk to a soldier current or past; they all know one day it could be their own ass--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">No one gets out alive- the demos struggle within us to see the light of day--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's enough for a seasoned Vet to give up and take it all away--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">To a place so ugly and grim, yet these are the fields we play in- some may call it The Valley of Sin--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Welcome home they will say; welcome to the struggle, and gimme a double, and may the demons inside drown away--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">To feel the pain that courses through a soldier's veins is just for the Free to exercise their own gain--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Give 'em meds, sedate their lives; fuck it if they've got families and lives--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">You punish the soldier who took the vow; now who the fuck are you to tell us to just "suck it up now?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Vengeance is only a matter of time, hopefully I never exercise mine--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I have eternity of guilt enough to bring the Devil to his own hilt--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Forever in strife is how we live our lives; now you ask us to be regular guys--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Take a moment to walk in our boots- but do remember you must be ready to shoot--</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">After you've shot, just remember its your soul they've now got.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">---BJS</span></div></span></h3></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-85240126666741475392009-08-28T16:45:00.000-07:002009-08-28T16:48:36.493-07:00Ahoy... a time lost in space and essence<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Hmm....so how do we refer to ourselves when we have to 'self-reflect'? I for one don't really care to have to agonize my way through such remedial tasks, but alas, there are things that are completely outta my control. </span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; min-height: 19px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "></span><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "> Self reflection...I mean seriously, what is it all about? Who is it for? Is it so you can learn yourself better? Or is it so someone who has no care in the world to learn more about you? I would think it's for the individual that is 'self-reflecting'. But doesn't that term on its own cause but a bit of a conundrum? I mean you can never see 'yourself' without the aid of something else..(i.e. whatever you're seeing you reflection in, either be it a person or mirror). It'll always be a biased observation anyhow. Are you gunna let everything out there to hang in the wind just so people can judge their lives according to yours and say, "Wow, and I thought my life was fucked?" Well, my answer is: No. </span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; min-height: 19px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "></span><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "> I tell you everything there is you need to know about me every time I draw breath. As I live I teach you, and myself, about me. You wanna know who I am? Spend time with me, see how I interact with others, see where my heart and responsibilities and social morae falls. I need nary a reflection to know who I am. A little of introspective work takes place in my life of course; but certainly I don't need it to be exploited to the general population. You wanna know how you get that information? Ya fuckin' prove yourself to me in a time and manner longer than 39.098706 seconds. Yeah, that's a pretty exact number, but hey, I'm a pretty exact man. </span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; min-height: 19px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "></span><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "> In my <i>very</i> recent past I had to provide a written executionary journal about my 'self-reflection'. Was I thrilled? Not exactly. Did I acquiesce</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 11px/normal Verdana; letter-spacing: 0px; "> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; ">and choke through the task? Yes, of course I did. However, that in itself is a better indicator as to who I am than whatever prose I scripted. Afterall, I held the power to script what I felt.. I could take my nom d' blum writing rights and provide anything that I felt that fit the bill. Did I take advantage of my position of power... well, kinda. However, I did come true with some things only to keep intact a degree of my integrity (and for any of those whom know me, you know that's rather high). </span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; min-height: 19px; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "></span><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><span style="letter-spacing: 0px; "> But, as for now I shall bid ye adieu from the bottom of my new self-reflective self, and bore ya not with anymore childish banter.</span></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; ">PiE</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; ">---BJS</div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; "><br /></div><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 13px; font: normal normal normal 16px/normal Verdana; ">(Written Thursday, 21 December 2006)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-50520856524617865062009-08-28T16:21:00.000-07:002009-08-28T16:23:12.897-07:00Officer-friendly<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, sans-serif, helvetica; font-size: 11px; "><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">Every adventure opens a new door. Every door opens a possible new adventure. Knowing when to close that door is the hardest part. The doors that we pass through in our lives are just as complicated as the meaning of life. Why is it we open the doors that we can feel are hot to the touch? <br /><br />I remember when in grammar school we'd have firemen and policemen come to our schools and talk to us about being safe. Policemen would say, "Stay away from strangers and people you don't know well." Firemen would say, "If you touch the doorknob and it's hot don't open it, there's probably a potential for being burned on the other side of the door." Now, as an adult I've seem to have totally forgotten those words of advice. I grab the doorknob, I feel its warmth resinating through the metal. I feel that I am going to potentially get burnt. I open the door anyhow, much to my surprise I don't get burnt right from the start usually. But as the policemen said not to talk to strangers it seems like it's the strangers on the other side of the warm door that I talk to immediately. <br /><br />The women on the other side of the door...Hot? Probably, otherwise the door wouldn't be warm to the touch. Strange? Well, again that's obvious because it's a new adventure behind another potentially fatal door. Every key factor about not opening that door stands evidently in my face. Do I open it? Of course I do, I open it to find another great woman that will eventually turn and burn me. They have it down so easily. Do I wear a sign that says, "Hey, I'm bored as hell, and you look bored, why don't you just swing on through my life and fuck it up for me real quick??" I don't think that I wear that sign. Perhaps I do.<br /><br />My friends have coined a phrase for me. Does anyone remember that TV show called: <span style="font-style: italic; ">This Ol' House</span>? Well, it was a TV show about a dude (Bob Villa) that remodeled old homes for other people that couldn't see the good in them but they then were able to live in a home that was refurbished, fixed -up to the latest standards and off-the-hook. Well, like I said my friends have coined me a phrase, they call it: <span style="font-style: italic; ">This Ol' Slut.</span> They tell me I find broken, half-loved, damaged women that are not able to be loved correctly for whatever reason they have. Well, a few months together, perhaps even a year or two and they are fixed-up, looking good, have been built to today's modern standards and now are head-turners in public. Ol' dude that was too cool for school to pay her any attention now wants to hit the skins with my newly remodeled girl. And before you know it, there she is: full of herself and her new provided confidence, thinking life is good, she can risk these things now. So there you have it. She gives it up to ol' cat, and then perhaps leaves you, perhaps not. Either way she feels she's king-pin now. Fair enough. She does look beautiful, she is hot, you've done well with the transformation, you should be proud. But, you shouldn't allow for some dude to come and live in <span style="font-style: italic; ">Your Ol' House/Slut.<br /><br /></span>The point to prose here is this: There are times in our life that we open doors that we know are not good for us. There are times when you think you've found the one. But one day, when you're sick with food poisoning and dying losing 6.5 lbs of water weight in one day, she won't be there for you. She will have had a week prior made a decision to leave you stranded somewhere and not let you know it. You'll fight for it, you know it's wrong, you know she doesn't care, you know it's only you being hurt because she could honestly give about 1/2 a fuck if you're alive or not. If she did care she'd be the one next to you when you can't keep anyhting down and dying. It wouldn't be her roommate and/or her friends offering you help and reassurance. It wouldn't be you, the one wondering if you're ever going to be able to eat again or keep any hydration down. It shouldn't be her being the one "having 'other things to do'" But it will be. And do you want to know why? Because that doorknob was hot in the begin with, the smoke was emminating from under the door, yet you felt it was a good idea and door to open. You felt it was the one sacrifice you could afford. 7 months and 3 countries and god knows how much money</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "> later, you find yourself again hoping to find another doorknob; another avenue of approach. Maybe next time you'll grab the hot doorknob and instantly turn your cheek to it and find one that's not so damn offesively hot. But, unfortunately, I doubt it.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">---BJS</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(Written Sunday, 27 May 07)</span></span></div>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-91371442064829926582007-08-23T01:36:00.000-07:002007-08-23T02:38:28.592-07:00Caught in the Shadow of DarknessStars falling...<br />Fear dropping...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />Energy wasted...<br />Time useless...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />Generations lost...<br />Civilizations found...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />Stamina gained...<br />Lives restrained...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />Enemies are loathed...<br />Clocks are dusted...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />Lifeless at the hilt...<br />Bearing no line of sight...<br />Light passes through.<br /><br />---BJSDutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-37790181016487343962007-08-23T00:42:00.000-07:002007-08-23T01:43:49.665-07:00Love is not breathless nor exciting...sometimes it's seemingly useless<span style="font-style: italic;">"---When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No... don't blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it? But it is!---" -----Captain Corelli's Mandolin</span><br /><br />A movie quote worth quoting and responding to.<br /><br />I watch people in their relationships and think, "I am so glad mine isn't as fucked up as their's." But usually, looking deeper into it, my relationships seem to be. The temporary madness of meeting someone is exhilarating and very full of passion. Many times things look similar to both parties and then over time look different to one of them. People grow apart. They get to know the other and then feel all that they said earlier is no longer factual anymore. Many times it seems one grows apart whilst the other is growing closer. This is when heartbreak sets in. One has stop fantasizing about the essence of the other and the other falls further and further into the other's web. "Where did the love go, when did it go wrong, how come I didn't recognize it?" These are often inquired when it becomes apparent to the "loving one" that they are no longer loved.<br /><br />Then the obvious course of denial sets in and they work so hard to win the admiration and dreams of their togetherness again. They start compromising themselves in hopes to prove their sincerity. Is this a good idea? In theory, yes. But in reality it doesn't usually seem to pan out. Efforts put forth seem to be fruitless, pain and tears are shed. Passion fails. Intimacy evades.<br /><br />This is all the suffering and agony that we as people put ourselves through just to feel that eventually with someone it'll all turn out right, and because with your partner <span style="font-style: italic;"></span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>your roots are so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. </span>It's not a path I've found to be particularly easy, nor even worthwhile at times, but yet I strive to find it.<br /><br />It's the claimed "I've never been so happy until I met you," falsities; the constant 'starting overs'; the perpetual abyss of insincere truths that are disconcerting. But still we trudge forward willing to endure the above in hopes to find the one which our roots will forever be as one.<br /><br /><br />---BJSDutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-70918610816582764692007-08-18T10:03:00.000-07:002007-08-18T10:27:01.674-07:00A Great Stolen line from a Movie.<p><span style="font-size:100%;"><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" > I wake up in London, I wake up in Saudi Arabia, Pacific, Mountain, and Central time, lose a day, gain a day. This is my life, and it's ending one minute at a time. I wake up at Baghdad International. If you wake up at a different time and in a different place, could you wake up as a different person? The further I travel, the tinier my world becomes. You see, when you travel, everything is small, self-contained. You get single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. Tiny blanket, disposable pillow. The people I meet on each flight -- they're single-serving friends. Between take-off and landing, we have our time together, but that's all we get. I wake up in Paris. I get out of my seat ...... As I squeeze past the person next to me, do I give them the ass or the crotch? </span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size:100%;"><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" ><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" > We are defined by the choices we make, the things we buy. You buy furniture. You tell yourself: "This is the last sofa I'll ever need. No matter what else happens, I've got the sofa issue handled." Then, the right set of dishes, the right dinette. This is how we fill up our lives. And what about all this designer stuff? Is it essential to our survival in the hunter/gather sense of the word?.....No..... We are consumers; we are by-products of the lifestyle of Obsession. Murder, Crime, Poverty these things dont concern us, what concerns people are celebrity magazines, satellite television with 500 channels, Starbucks, SUVs, Oprah, and some guy's name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Alcohol, Ecstasy, and Martha Stewart it's all taking us down man......I say never be content, I say stop being perfect, I say let's evolve,..... let the chips fall where they may. Maybe it''s just me and I could be wrong but its just stuff.....things, and things you own end up owning you. I feel sorry for all the guys packing into gyms, trying to look like what Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger said they should. Self-improvement is masturbation. Today, right now, this is the greatest moment of your life and you're off somewhere, sitting on MySpace, missing it. Wake up! In order to succeed, first you have to know....Not Fear..... But know .....that someday you are going to die. Until you know that, you will be useless..... Because it's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. </span></b></span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size:100%;"><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" ><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" ><b><span style=";font-family:Arial;" > I myself have ceased to exist. The form you see before you is merely an after image of a memory long since gone. I live in a false reality made up of smoke and mirrors designed to hide the harshness of the world. I live in constant denial that someday I'll wake up and realize that this has all been a revelation..... or nightmare, or perhaps my name is Truman, and unbeknownst to me I live out my days in an episode of some sadistic reality based TV program. Where the audience, sitting at home in their lazy-boy recliners, dictate my daily activities via internet based web polls or 1-800 hotlines. Interactive TV. Too bored with their own lives, they live vicariously through my everyday pains, sorrows and struggles.</span></b></span></b></span></b></span></p>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-67779327655475176012007-08-16T15:46:00.002-07:002009-08-13T00:01:22.580-07:00Re-evaluating the Hierarchy of States of Mind<h2><span><span> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> C</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">hasing the memories of what might have been seems to have its appeal as of late. Life determiners at times seem to get away from the scope of reality and join board of the utterly ridiculous. Sure curve balls come our way and we need to adjust as they arrive, but must we alter our lives because of said determiners? Need we bask in the glory of the past to live in our present and our future? Certainly we need to be aware of the states we have crossed in earlier segments of life, but need they be the sole reason to live our future? </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></h2> <h2 style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> <span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I have annotated in my past the times when life just wasn't in a neat stockpile. In fact, one could say it was in disarray at best. I knew at those times there was nothing that could be done to cure the disorganization, yet I searched for the ability to change things, and even got so discouraged decided that it wasn't even worth it anymore. Granted most of these issues in my life were relationship-centric topics, but nonetheless they were some pretty crappy times. Coming to grips with reality in most cases is horrible, and any sane human being should avoid it at all possible costs, that's why I self-sedate! Getting back on topic: Reality is there for those that want to see it for what it's worth. If you are simply going to look at it through biased eyes you shouldn't even bother entertaining the idea of wanting to deal with reality. Life's determiners do not stop by at the local gas station and ask for directions to the nearest best-equipped, best-abled sole to handle them. No, in fact they prey on the meak and feeble, they need people who are incapable to defend themselves against them. So why is it we as a species constantly try to invite the determiners into our lives? We need not the drama; yet we thrive on the disappointments and the disbeliefs that we endure. Is it because we are simply mortals only programmed to do the wrong thing most of the time when it comes to living easier more productive lives? Or is it because we are self-defeatus? We are codependant upon self destruction perhaps. I have nary the answers, that's for sure, and it's been proven many times over.<br /></span></span></span></span></span></h2> <h2 style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"> <span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Life has given me so many opportunities to be correctly responsive, and a few times I have heeded the advice of others and I was rewarded with wisdom and knowlegde that I, being too close to the issue, could not see for what it was. Unfortunately, I have only done it this way a handful of times. Most of the time I deal with these conundrums simply by "doing my own thing because I know best" and in the long run (which I inherantly knew all along was the wrong way) I am looking down a long cold lonely path to the darkness of solitude and instability. Life deems itself unworthy in these times, life seems meaningless, unimportant; and perhaps it is to the commoner. However, </span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">someone, somewhere,</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> cares about your decisions. It would be best if these people were there 100% of the time, but that's unreasonable. So, what is it that we do? I suggest we learn to trust those that we </span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">say </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">we trust and really give those persons in your life the opportunity to do what they were intended to do: To help you in times of need. Find your friends and your lover and let them know constantly that you appreciate them in your life and that they are trusted, see where it takes you... Find yourself on the beach listening to the waves crashing against the break and slip into your quan. Perhaps the ocean isn't your gig, just find your place o' zen and embrace it and clear your head often, so that when life starts arbitrarily divvying out these fun lil' determiners you're a better equipped sole to manage them. But if you paid attention to what I've been saying, I earlier stated that determiners don't tend to manifest themselves on the well-equipped person; hence a reason to constantly take time out for yourself and let those whom you trust actionably love you. These are just a few of my uncontrollable, no-sense-making ramblings....until next time...</span></span></span></span></span></h2><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">---BJS</span></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-85577179851761151712007-08-16T15:46:00.001-07:002009-08-13T00:02:42.950-07:00Stolen Images<p style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">S</span>tanding alone looking at the reflection of one I don't recognize anymore<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> T</span>he idleness of the hand traces my features in total confusion<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> O</span>nce a human with a soul, with a conscious<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> L</span>ost in the complexity of complete anguish<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> E</span>mptiness, vastness...completely devoid of any emotion<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> N</span>ever before was there this hole that peers through my heart<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> I</span>mages of truth and virtue weaken the soldier<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> M</span>anaging to get this abandoned body to walk again<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> A</span>nger and disappointment is all that was left of the shell of the person<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> G</span>entle nights with loved ones have been long forgotten<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> E</span>ternal darkness, and destitute is what lays ahead<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> S</span>erenity: forever to be lost in the misfortune of catastrophe.</p><br /><p style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" class="MsoNormal">---BJS<br /></p>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-1603020570121102282007-08-16T15:41:00.000-07:002007-08-23T01:45:46.524-07:00Any Idea What Life's For?<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Falling...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Dying...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Seeing...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Being...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">What's love for?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Humiliation?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Contemplation?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Admiration?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Or is it all for a show?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Let a lonely soul know before he eats his heart</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">One should know why one must...why one must push</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Pushin' towards the edge</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">As a lemming.. striving for the ledge..</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Living life, tasting death, feeling love course through my veins</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Fleeting moments</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Lonely life... heartfelt talks...</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Cuts like a knife</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Pushing on....carrying weight</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Cannot wait</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Feeling threats</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">No worries...life ends</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Dramatic for some</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Poetic for others...<br /><br /><br />---BJS<br /></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7509052696443649217.post-28198702233972977552007-08-16T15:29:00.001-07:002007-08-23T01:46:04.601-07:00I just don't know anymore<span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"></span></span></span><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153);font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I just want to yell to the world, "Fuck you!"<br /><br />I just want to yell to myself, "Fuck you!"<br /><br />I just want to yell at others, "Fuck you!"<br /><br />Sadness and unhappiness seems to follow me wherever I go. I can't seem to shake its tail. I am getting fully saturated with the idea of thinking life is unhappy, yet it keeps following me like a shadow. It's seems to be in my every step, around every corner I turn. It seems to particularly like my company, unfortunately, I don't dig it so much. I've been trained in evasive maneuvers, I've been trained to confront unhappiness and kill it with kindness. Why is it so resilient to my antics and ways of avoiding it? Certainly, there are those out there that don't mind its company. I'm not one of them. I say say, "Piss on unhappiness, and its ways." However, it doesn't seem to care what I think or say.<br /><br />Perhaps things will shed a new light of darkness on me soon. Perhaps it won't. I sure as shit don't know nor have the answers. Maybe Creed said it best when they said, "What's this life for...?"<br /><br /><br />---BJS<br /></span></span>Dutchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02971550396236944928noreply@blogger.com1