The final spin of the Carousel

Determination has taken a vacation
after giving the dog his bone,
reckless abandon was shot from a cannon
only to land in a field alone.
The liquid that dripped from the cup that was tipped
collects in a pool below,
Now who will drink from this tainted sink
where only fungus and mold will grow?
The carousel spins...
...always ending up at the end.
Wishes and dreams are dashed....
....here no one wins
the carousel spins....
....and my last tokens' been cashed.

Wither

I scratch away at the dried past, pulling the dead flakes of disillusionment away from the wiry remains of sanguinity. The darkness spreads from under my eyes, across my face and into my lungs like an army of mindless soldiers following command via telephone. The air dissolves, my skin then crawls, leaving me only with bones of contention.

Ode to Jones

The blistering tongue forming corruption filled phrases, the dead-eyed stare numbing the hundreds of gazes. Pounding fists shaking podiums while raving and ranting, rabid jaw clinching spewing hatred while panting. "Walk with me, I'm the sign of the ancient one's coming, I am the almighty this is why I'm not running. I will make sure you and your children are fed; I will assure you that your enemies will all soon be dead. I am your savior, your true God, your alter; kneel down before me for I shall not falter." Tipping back this cup of liquid I'll follow, as bodies fall down beside me I'll swallow. We drink this dream anonymously blending in with the heard, believing this angel's every smile, every word. Detatched are your eyes disguised behind glass, the darkening perception with each second that pass…. Bliss

I believe in Jones




So do I

Flat

Could it be that I've lost all of my direction?
Or could it be that I've just lost my connection, again?
I've taken all of my false ambition, and now I'm flat.
But I really don't expect you to understand any of that.
It's only when I'm there that I can bear,
all of the shit that you say.
And it's only when I'm numb I won't run,
Not today anyway.
Could it be that I've spent our last dollar?
Or could it be that it's feels too right for me to squander?
I've drained all of our connection now we're flat.
But I really don't expect you to understand any of that.
It's only when I'm there that I can bear,
all of the shit that you say.
And it's only when I'm numb I won't run,
Not today anyway.
Now you implore me to lift myself up beyond my means.
But you're whispering.
And then to push away from this mud that has a hold of me.
But you're still whispering.
It feels like I'm desperately dependant upon what I can't feel.
I can't remember how it feels not to pretend to be happy.

Vapor

I have melted into vapor, and begun counting the drops of my heavy liquid soul as it splinters the picture so carefully drawn out in sidewalk chalk. I slowly gather them all, cradled like broken glass in bleeding hands. My wings have been pulled from my shoulders with claws; my skin will be rationed to feed for this cause. The sick and the weak rely upon me, the poor and the meek that struggle to see, the whispers and screams penetrate dreams leaving echoes of footprints behind my closed eyes. Despite my thick shell, I somehow can tell, that you my love, have never looked so immensely beautiful.

We

I've stripped it away, and dare I say
“all that makes my life whole”.
I feel you close and love you the most;
from the beginning to the end of my soul.
I’m blistered from the mistaken one,
the one who carved me out hollow,
You say the words that sing like the birds,
soft spoken-an effortless follow.
The wound has since healed and now have revealed
You're you, my dancing angel.
I miss the small things hidden behind your wings
things that make life less painful.
I miss your glee, and never will see
that you're the angel that saved me from me,
Now that I’m whole please fill in my soul,
and again make me become we.
I love you…………….

The Predictable End

I stepped out onto the street today; the cool wind enveloped my face and hands. I ask, which direction to go, again you fail to answer. It seems to me that all roads end up at the same destination. Then why bother? I've been down them all, the journey never enjoyable, the path never smooth. All too easy just to turn and walk back in. Resign one's self to silky solitude where all is predictable. Perhaps this time will be different, maybe this time I'll stumble upon an epiphany. Either way, I guess it's the experience that defines us.

Dream of the Dead

Last night I had a dream, every inch of the sky was blood red and every living thing was dead. I was only me, resting against a dead tree, feeling quite simply at peace. Then I recall flying over it all, the dried oceans, cracking landscape dim. With a tilt of my head, I flew into the dead shattering the mirror divide. The fragments of glass embed my eyes as I pass darkening the beauty I view. Now I’m alone, dead kingdom, dead throne, and I woke up to realize it’s true.

My Daughter and Her Shadow

My daughter is a lot like me. She has always been very much like me. I’ll give you an example; when I was 11 years old I lived in Golden Valley Arizona, and at the time it wasn’t much more than miles upon miles of sand, cactus, and Mojave rattlesnakes. My father worked at a casino in Laughlin Nevada and during the summer months he would usually leave before I woke up and wouldn’t arrive home again until long after I fell asleep. With our closest neighbor about 2 miles away, I felt quite alone and overwhelmingly isolated. It was around this time that my mind began to turn on me. I developed what I refer to as “my shadow”. My shadow likes to play games with me. At 11, my shadow convinced me that my father wouldn’t be coming home.. I was certain that he would be killed in an auto accident while heading back home. My shadow filled me with constant worry and perpetual anxiety, I would sit at my bedroom window waiting for Dad to come home, all-the-while knowing deep down that he would not. Out in the desert, you can see the flicker of headlights from miles away. The dull glow of headlights, mixed with desert dust, mixed with hope, leading to disappointment, desperation, and despair as each car passes.

Today, my daughter is just like me.


Ashlyn is a quiet young lady. She’s very much lost in thought constantly, and I always find myself asking her what is going on in her head. Although she usually replies with a shoulder shrug, or by saying “Nothing Daddy”, last week she felt like sharing.

I asked her “What’cha thinking about kiddo?” and she began to tear up. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “I’m nervous about a couple of things Daddy”. “Oh yeah? Anything you care to discuss? I’m a pretty good listener.” I told her. “Can we go in the other room?” she asked. “Yes ma’am”. “Daddy, I’m worried….” she said. “Okay, what’s on your mind?” I asked. She looked up at me on the verge of tears and said “2012... Do you think we’re all going to die?”. I told her that I didn’t believe in that ‘whoo haa’ and that she should be concerned with that. I let her know that good or bad, she should try not to burden herself with things she has no control over. We talked a while about the Mayan Calendar, what is known about the Mayan people, and the mysteries surrounding their disappearance. This sort of calmed her down, I explained to her that no one is able to predict the future.

Then came a statement I’ll never forget. She told me that she was also concerned because her mom had bought her “a surprise” and she asked me “What if it’s a gun?”. Yup.. She told be that she was worried that her mother bought her a gun.

I spent the rest of the night teaching her about the shadow, teaching her things that she can do to quiet the shadow. I hope she fairs better that I have.

She’s just like me.

Dear God

Dear God,


Fuck you.


There, now I feel better.

P.S. Pick on someone else for a change.


Regards………

Blissful Purging Peeling

Tearing the meaning in two like my heart,
Then pushing together pieces apart.
Melting the moments frozen by time,
Pooling the memories forming a line.

Blissful wind carrying my soul like a stone,
Purging the feeling of breathing alone,
Peeling the skin from between my whole halves,
Hidden away inside thinly veiled laughs.

Pushing me out again,
Pulling me in and then,
Saying I’m worthy of
Your gift of empty love.

Sending me off to rot,
Carving me out a spot,
Burning my blisters clean,
Holding me in between.

Languidly laying beneath the love,
Offered to you as you offer a shrug.
Tonguing the sours that you’ve left behind,
Licking clean wounds perforated by time.

Equating the distance between you and I,
Compounding the listless feeling of why.
Adding the purpose I hoped you would bring,
Subtracting the union by subtracting the ring.

ZEITGEIST: MOVING FORWARD | OFFICIAL RELEASE | 2011

Target Ain't People

Farewell

Would you believe me if I whispered the truth to you?
Would you deny me if I carried a lie?
In and out of our lives we fall,
I’m vacant between the moments you call,
Feathers ands heathers I gather them all,
I can’t seem to bid you farewell.

I’m learning to lean into the red,
I’ve painted your eyes in lies and bled
Twisting the meaning of all that you said
This fracturing feeling… farewell.

Reaction on the web of baby Gabriel's mother confessing to his murder

In a story about missing Baby Gabriel’s mom allegedly making a jailhouse murder confession: It’s almost comical if it wasn’t so disturbing, Here’s an example our society:

Cathy Vento Shaw says: “PUBLIC EXECUTION!!!! A REALITY TV SHOW ON LIVE PUBLIC EXECUTIONS!!!.. WHEN IS THIS COUNTRY GOING TO WAKE UP AND STOOP ""TOLERATING"" ALL THE WEIRDOS????”


　Cathy Vento Shaw goes on to say: “WE HAVE TO GET RID OF THE LIBERALS , PEOPLE...THEY ARE THE ONES SUPPORTING PEDOPHILES AND THEIR RIGHTS...
THEY ALSO SUPPORT NAMBLA....WHAT A SICK SICK WORLD…“

Paul Jara poetically adds: “Fry THAT BITCH on THE CHAIR!!!!.....what t...he hell is wrong with HUMANITY???... We're supposed to LOVE 1 another ...NOT KILL!!!!...specially ur OWN FLESH and BLOOD!!!...SO SAD!!!...may the ANGELS take CARE of him!!!. L“

Nice frowny face.

As I read along the thread I saw post after post that basically say “kill her”, “fry her”, and “hang her in the town square”.
　
I especially like the people who say “Kill the bitch” in the same breath as they talk about “God and angels and prayers”.. wow.. I mean wow.


It’s a good look into the eyes of a disturbed society. Take a good long look. I’m not justifying what this obviously disturbed mother did to her son, I’m just desperately trying to point out that our society has issues. here’s an idea: a...s opposed to “frying the bitch” or “creating a reality television show” to televise her execution, why not try to learn to diagnose her sickness in order to attempt to understand it? Maybe if we as a society can UNDERSTAND what makes sick people do the sick things that they do, we might have a shot to prevent these horrors.

I don’t know, perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe these posters are right. Maybe we should film her having her skin peeked off and her blood smeared over the bodies of her executioners as they dance in the light of a full moon in order to appease the gods of whatever…

I’m just saying.

The Poignancy of the Bride

I love the way that you and I
intertwine like collective vines.
Fragile moments of ephemeral bliss,
eternal echoes of a kiss.

Your every breath I anticipate,
Your every word defines my fate.
I’ve carved your image in my mind,
The heaviness of your remind.

I carry thoughts of you my love,
and lift them up to hold above.
The times I hate this worthless life,
I find solace knowing you’re my wife.

Yay

Untitled

Wretched feeling, sleep depravity.... rotting from within crude cavity.

Counting backward forward again, elusive slumber... 9.... 10...

The raven claws dig within, this empty soul drawing thin,

I can't recall so I simplify, use these notes to symbolize,

structured epic story fails, when placed against this face it pales.

Breathing in this poison air, I'm feeling weak under weight I bear.

Foundation slipping from below, the wing of this soulless crow.

Count again forward back; push away the rest I lack.

Maybe I’m simply delusional but I think you're beautiful.......

The Unit (Short Form)

The Unit (Short Form)

The lights are on in the unit next to ours. Nobody lives there, but for some strange reason the lights have been on for the last few weeks. This is just one in a long line of strange happenings that have surrounded this empty living space and I have to say that they are increasingly unnerving.
It started with a bang, literally just about a week after my wife and I moved in. We were sitting down for a quiet evening of television when at about 8:30 or so we heard a loud bang. I jumped from my easy chair to investigate (being the dutiful husband that I am). I stepped out onto the adjoining porch and peered down at the condo next door. The once bolted door was blown in and the screen door once secure was wide open. This was a little disturbing. I quickly told Claire to lock the door. I grabbed my cell phone and ran down stairs to the grassy area directly below the condos for a better vantage point. I swore that I saw movement inside the unit; there are no shades on the windows. It was pretty dark, but I am certain that I saw movement. I phoned the condo president to ask her advice. She suggested that I phone the police and that I keep my distance. I complied. The dispatcher said that a patrol car was on the way, and also suggested that I stay clear of whomever or whatever was in there.
I smoked cigarette after cigarette and I waited and I watched.
The police finally showed up about an hour later. I stood out in the driving snow and watched the doors and window the entire time. When they arrived, they drew their weapons and ascended the stair case. They both disappeared into the darkness of the unit. I could see the reflection of light from their flashlights darting around the walls as I watched from outside. I just knew that there was someone in there, I knew it. I waited for the yelling to begin, I waited for the apprehension and it never came. The 2 police officers exited the unit and took some information from me. They theorized that it was probably a squatter trying to get in from the cold, and said the he probably heard me open the door and he took off when I reentered my condo to retrieve my cell phone. Good theory, plausible.
It wasn't too long after that, the noises began. Along with noises, there is an overwhelming feeling of dread every time I pass by the unit. I reluctantly would sneak a look into the windows as I passed by leaving or returning home from work. It's an odd sight, looking into a place that looks exactly like my own home but without furniture or carpeting. It's almost like looking at my own future, the thought that this will be my home long after I am gone. It's my life, just emptier. Only the memories are left behind. I was lying in bed one night thinking about what I have just described when I heard what sounded like laughing. It was coming from right behind my bedroom wall. The laughter was quiet, almost intentionally so. It is never loud enough to be sure that it is laughter that I am hearing. But, I am almost sure that I am hearing a quiet, deep, and antagonizing laugh. It's upsetting.
The reason I am writing this down is because I want a record of all that is happening. I don't want to forget a thing. Last week when I stepped out onto the porch to have a cigarette the lights were on, I couldn't breath. My heart began to pound. I slowly walked toward the unit to investigate. The reality is, I have no idea where I gathered the courage, but as I approached the window I somehow managed to look inside. There it was, barren and desolate. I was a cold evening so the windows were filled with frost. I used my hand to clear my view, there was no one. As I turned to walk away, the porch light flickered on and the off again.




It has been some time now since I started documenting the odd occurrences of the unit. I have now begun to realize that there are other odd things going on that have nothing to do with the unit. My wife and I barely speak; but when we do it's always very mean spirited.

I walked past a photo of the two of us on vacation in Cancun and wondered "weren't we smiling in that picture? I could have sworn we were smiling." At night the laughter continues. Now I hear more than one person laughing and I am convinced they are laughing at me. They know of my failures in life; they find humor in my unhappy marriage. They somehow know of the embarrassments I suffered from as a boy and their laughter is an ever present reminder.

I woke from a nightmare recently to find my wife wasn't lying next to me. I threw the sheet off of me and got up to look for her. It was dark as I felt the wall for the light switch. I went from room to room turning on each light only to find that she wasn't there. I became angry, so sure in the idea that she was out with another man, the paranoia felt like a hand around my throat. I remember muttering out loud "screw her then" and I returned to bed.

I tossed and turned for several minuets before I finally could clear my mind in order to once again fall asleep. Just as I started drifting away, I heard her. It was Claire's voice I'm sure of it. She was inside the unit and she needed help. I heard her screaming for me. Why didn't I hear her before?
I jumped from my bed once again; I could feel by body temperature drop as I struggled to gain my equilibrium. I could still hear her screaming as I made it to the front door. It was completely dark and I was having a lot of trouble finding the lock. When I opened the door I looked to find her leaving the unit, she was gently closing the door behind her. To my amazement, she was grinning. "What the hell is going on?" I said. "Nothing" she replied, as she looked at the ground. "I thought I heard a noise." She opened our front door, turned, and closed it right in from of me, leaving me outside.

It's now been several weeks since that incident and my documentation continues. I am filled with paranoia and my wife and I haven't spoken in what seems like an eternity. Night after night she leaves at precisely 3 am, and night after night I hear her next door screaming for help. The first few times I tried to intercede, beacon her out, convince her not to go, but every time I fail. I know what I am hearing isn't in my head, I know that it is real, but who do I tell? Who can I call? 3 nights ago I heard her singing, I couldn't recall at the time what the name of the song was, but it later came to me. It was the 'Consecration Hymnal'
(Part 2)


'Consecration Hymnal'
Since Jesus gave His life for me,
Should I not give Him mine?
I'm consecrated, Lord, to Thee,
I shall be wholly Thine.

My life, O Lord, I give to Thee,
My talents, time, and all;
I'll serve Thee, Lord, Thine own to be,
I'll hear Thy faintest call.

I care not where my Lord directs,
His purpose I'll fulfill;
I know He everyone protects
who does His holy will.

Though He may call across the sea,
With Jesus I will go;
and tell the lost of love so free,
Till all His power may know.

My home and friends are dear to me,
Yet He is dearer still;
In my affections first He'll be,
And first His righteous will.

My all, O Lord, to Thee I'll give,
Accept it as Thine own;
For Thee alone I'll ever live,
My heart shall be Thy throne.

For those who don't know, my wife is Jewish, and I have no idea where she would have learned this.
A few days ago I woke up to get ready for work and she was lying in bed (which is normal now, she sleeps most of the day into the afternoon and no longer works) and entered the bathroom. Written in red lipstick on the mirror was this image.



I've seen this model before, and (although this is not the actual figure she drew, it is what she intended to draw) it shook me to my very soul. This is what is called a 'Circumscribed Tetrahedron' (inside you will find the Golden Mean or the Golden Ratio),
I ran into the bedroom and shook her awake. "What is this?" "My art?" she said. "I had a dream…. And it looked like that. It's beautiful."

(Part 3)


It is only now that I realize that I must be dreaming. Only in nightmares are you this helpless, only in the most profound dream do you feel this utterly alone and scared. With that, I grab her face and cradle it in my hands, I look into her eyes and beg her to explain to me the significance of the Golden Ratio (truthfully, I purposely did not ask her about the tetrahedral pyramid because at the time I couldn't remember what it was called). "What has compelled you to leave this house every single night? Why are you obsessed with that place? And why is the Golden Ratio written in lipstick on our mirror?" I asked.
She slyly smiled and rolled to her side, "It is the key." "The key? The key to what?" I asked. She began to look annoyed, "The key to you, the key to me, it is everything that you can and cannot see. You see it begins with Pi, which is much, much more than a simple set of numbers. If you square Pi than you get a number exactly 1 greater than Pi. All of the plants on this planet grow based on this principal. When you divide Pi into 1 you get a number exactly 1 less than Pi. Take the square root of 5 add one then divide by 2 and you again have Pi. When you graph these numbers out, as I have done for you in hopes that you simple mind can comprehend, you have the beautiful Golden Ratio. And, if you stopped to look around you, you would find it everywhere. The Egyptians knew it, look at the The Giza Necropolis that stands on the Giza Plateau."
"What does this have to do with anything?" I asked, but before I could redirect the conversation she leapt from the bed suddenly and grabbed my hand. Her fingernails dug deep into my wrist.

"LOOK" she screamed, "LOOK AT YOUR FINGER PRINTS! Look at seashells, galaxies, and our solar system! The average of the mean orbital distances of each successive planet expressed in relation to the one before it closely approximates Phi! It's in our damn DNA!".

"This is not random, this is the language spoken by God and he is speaking to me in that room." I absolutely froze, I could not move. I could see that she believed what she was saying to be true. She fell to her knees and began to cry.
"It is my God telling me to come home…" she wept. "It is in the music, it is the trees, it's, it's all around us." She then looked directly at me, suddenly feeling excited but with tears still streaming from her eyes. "Can you hear it now?" She asked.
"No, I don't hear anything" I replied.
"But, what about the pyramid? What does that have to do with this?".
"That is my vehicle" she said.
With that, she pulled herself up from the floor and ran out the front door. I tried to give chase but it felt as if I were running in tar. I struggled to get to the front door. As I reached the door my heart stopped. I watched my lovely wife, my soul mate, my reason for being, plummet 4 floors to the cold concrete below. I screamed but only heard silence.
…and then I awoke with a shiver.

The Theory of Light and Dark Energy

The Theory of Light and Dark Energy

The theory of dark energy: It's quite simple, it's my belief that there are 2 predominate energies in our realm of reality, dark energy (hate) and light energy (love). Both energies are very similar in most respects whereby they react and grow based on how they are fed. Let's take a look at dark energy. Dark energy is grown on its most basic level by negative thought, and then compounded by negative action. For instance when a curious child takes a magnifying glass to an ant, what initially began as negative thought became negative action, this action causes the ant's life to end, that action feeds dark energy. The dark energy then compounds and manifests itself in other negative ways. Another example: a tormented mother frustrated by an uncaring husband takes her anger out on a child at the grocery store. This negative action (caused by another negative action) is witnessed by other shoppers causing the manifestation of dark energy around each witness, this energy will be released in some way, or some form at some point. It has to be, it is after all energy. Now let's examine the child: the child being main focus of the dark energy will receive more of this energy. This will cause a more powerful eviction of dark energy (keeping in mind that again it is energy and has to be released), and the longer the child holds the energy, the more it grows. There is a balance to the equation, that's the good news. I will explain that in another post when I've had just the right amount of beer and all of this garbage sound reasonable to me.


We examined my little theory of dark energy; now let's take a look at light energy for a moment. It's not too difficult of a concept to grasp, unless your diet as a child consisted of paint chips and huffing gasoline. This whole thing started a few weeks ago when someone did something for me that was amazing. This gesture was one of the kindest things that anyone has ever done for me, and was reduced by the simple phrase "just pay it forward". That got me thinking. Now the theory of light energy: Light energy although not as commonly recognized, is every bit as abundant as dark energy. Light energy can be seen in a child's eyes on Christmas morning (those who celebrate Christmas), it can be seen when you hold the door for someone who's grateful. It can be heard throughout our great history of music, it can be felt in the warm embrace of someone you love. The reality is, this theory although odd, is indeed quantifiable. All it takes is someone being completely honest with ones self. Think of the last time someone made you smile. It was pretty easy to get through the day, wasn't it? It was also pretty easy to do something nice for someone else, I'm sure. Light energy is fills the spaces between us when we are in love, fills our lungs with air when we laugh, is the reason our skin goes flush and our eyes well up with tears when we see someone that we haven't for a long time. I am surrounded by light energy when I am with my wife. Life is a finely crafted equation in perfect balance and harmony. Your experience largely depends on what side you choose to recognize.