Monthly Archives: September 2021

Exist

Exist within the existential crises.

Are you afraid of death, and the end to it all? 

I think that fear is a very reasonable response. We exist for such a tiny period of time and then we don’t. Death is a scary thing to come to terms with, even if you have beliefs in things like an afterlife.

I have found myself crying for hours because of this thing that I cannot avoid. Death is inevitable. Logically I should put it out of my mind entirely since my thinking about it will only burden me mentally and physically which in turn shortens my lifespan further.

Isn’t it interesting that the primary reason we are afraid of dying is that we have so much that we love in our lives, you don’t want it to end, but then waste time being afraid and sad which leads to not engaging with the things that we love. It’s amusing to think how counterintuitive that is.

Focus on what you can control and let the things that you cannot control go.

Don’t leave space for dread. Actively focus on the things that you love. Allow those things to fill that space. Utilize your time the best that you can so that, at the end of it, you won’t feel like you missed any opportunities to enjoy living.

“Jealousy”

“Jealousy” is suspended art.

Hanging from the ceiling, made up of a collection of objects that are placed in positions to create a larger picture. When you look at it from far away and from the correct angle, you can identify it as “Jealousy”, but when you get close to each piece that makes it up you don’t see “Jealousy” only the many pictures of memories and experiences, torn up, crumpled up, and arranged just so that have been curated over time. Funny enough, some of the art is made up of the same pictures.

I have a gallery filled with art titled “Love”, “Desire”, “Creativity”, “Sense of Humor”, “Insecurity”, “Depression”, “Mania”, “Separation-Anxiety”, “Jealousy” and more. We all have this, or something like it. Each gallery is similar in appearance, but upon closer inspection are made up of different images.

Sometimes the art here obscures each other and I can’t see “Happiness” through “Jealousy” and “Insecurity”.

“Creativity” and “Sense of Humor” among others, are made from overlapping pieces, they use segments of “Depression”, “Love”, “Insecurity” etc.

I am not fond of every piece of art in my gallery. In fact, I would like to set fire to a few of them. I wonder, without them, would I continue to exist?

I have a parasite…

I have a parasite.

It originated in the depths of my gut, crawled up my spine, behind my brain and then enveloped it. It comes with a heavy heat, like the inside of a car in Phoenix, Arizona on a summer’s day. It is rooted in my psyche, but occasionally manifests physically. The heat is followed by a fog, and the mind is made obscure. Irritability and confusion kick in thereafter. All of this is happening while I am working, spending time with friends, doing chores, or attempting to binge watch a new show. I attempt to shake it off but it clings with a strength I currently cannot overcome.

This parasite that wreaks havoc on my mind and body is known commonly as “jealousy”.

Phoenix

Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free
burn these cages down to the ground
All those lives we’ve left abandoned and bound
those blind folded eyes that we demand, “see!”

no longer can we resign to let them be
raise your hands, your voice, raze the town!
Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free
burn these cages down to the ground

Embrace your anger in apogee
bury the world in righteous sound
bring an ocean of will to find your opposition drowned
We have left but one philosophy;
Let’s bring fire to this thing and set it free.

Guilt

Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised
an unavoidable demise
seeded in me to now reside

Sounds of writhing are amplified
as the roots force the flesh incised
“Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised”

There is still warmth I must confide
as if one could make heat from lies
this life found to be death disguised
it remains here though I have died,
abolish this burden inside.

You Must be So Aged to Ride this Ride

Youth was such a storm of progress
shards of life in broken houses
compiled sweetly to impress

Older but still young at heart
I made knives from shattered glass
cut myself from cloth with class

Only time lapse could capture younger days
the ones now burn slow and pass in a phrase
something about redefining success

There is no need for time to keep going
the river flows against our rowing

but the water rushes onward still
despite efforts to paddle uphill

An Evening Fog

Loud laughter echoes in the night
turmoil ripping through sober thoughts
the tranquil air thus met with blight
to bare the yoke that madness sought.

Beneath this burden I was caught
trying to connect sound with sight
while in my mind a war was fought
loud laughter echoes in the night.

It consumes me with such great fright
threads of sanity frayed and fraught
all the sense and reason taking flight
Turmoil ripping through sober thoughts

the joyous sound reaps what was wrought
as evening overcomes twilight
darkness becomes a juggernaut
the tranquil air thus met with blight

strikes me like a meteorite;
suddenly I am me but not
the truth inside is held down tight
to bare the yoke that madness sought

dim enough to have been forgot
though behind the mind it shines bright
and bricks can birth the Argonaut
just split thine head to release the light.
Loud laughter echoes.

Father

He loved me with an ironic heart
such emotions you could never see
but for what its worth it did its part
He loved me.

Nothing you would ever find on a marque
more a thing felt in the time apart
a gift bestowed on the absentee

Hidden in wisdom he would impart
infused within our morning coffee
buried in machines I could not start
he loved me.

Return to the Earth

The throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out
lay low the day that brought us to such doubts

When we’ve reached bitter end of this tome
and the waters of life have met with drought
the throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out

No matter how many miles we may roam
or to what causes we may feel devout
there is always the same end to our route
The throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out
lay low the day that brought us to such doubts.