Sometimes i just wanna eat a bunch of pills and smash the bottle over my head until i bleed out a chemical spill. I'm a walking time capsule buried in my thoughts. If I'm just a moment in time i'd rather smash the clock. Sometimes i'd rather be forgot, because your memory is my memory and that's all of you that i got. I see the future and i am its past. Sometimes i wish i were the beach where your waves crashed instead of a cracked image in a faded photograph.
Sometimes i wanna lose my temper, walk in to a crowded building and..Fuck! i can't remember. Sometimes i take too many pills and that's why i can't remember. Sometimes i don't wanna remember because the eyes are still tender. Melting through an endless reel of my soul being dismembered. Sometimes i wanna be weak. I find myself floating above the stairs cuz i cringe everytime i feel the wood creak. Stop noticing me, I'll be gone in a blink, don't speak of me, sometimes i wish i didn't think. Sometimes i don't remember.
Sometimes all it takes is a picture to stall the machine as the human inside tries to wipe the face clean. I hate to impede, but sometimes i wish you were here so you could watch me bleed. Stop me please. Sometimes i scratch the surface of your forgotten hypothesis and realized you were right, that i was the remedy. Sometimes i take more pills. Sometimes i boil water till my imaginations overfilled. Sometimes i pine for atrophy, and sometimes i kill my shadow as i sleep happily. Sometimes i can love. Sometimes i cough blood. sometimes i listen for clues to remember what i was, but the current never comes back. All i hear is foaming waves sweeping rocks under the pedals from the lilacs. sometimes i don't remember.
Friday, December 19, 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2014
#Icantbreathe
I can't breathe. It's more than just the asthma and floating ragweed.
I can't breathe. It's the humanity dying right in front of me,
the inanity constricting on the throats of our sanity.
I can't breathe. It's the tears I'm choking back,
our streets are painted black with red filling in the cracks and i'm not ok with that.
I can't breathe. Has anyone seen my inhaler? don't shoot just reaching for air. but you wouldn't care.
I can't breathe. there's too much pollution. Sorry Darwin, but humans have suffocated your theory of evolution.
I can't breathe. you've chopped all the trees, should have swung at the knees, if only he were lighter a few degrees.
I can't breathe. I've been coughing up blood. Serve and protect themselves well next of kin drops tears in mud.
I can't breathe. Justice is blind. Unless your skin's darker than mine. You're more likely to be fitted for a pine where as i'd just pay a fine. Sweet Lucy, never meant for this.
I can't breathe. cuz the rich are making money hand over fist. While they watch us kill each other so that they can exist.
I can't breathe. How can one be safe? when the people we elect blame the victims who are raped. The people who "protect" us won't allow air to escape. time to rename it the United Police States.
I can't breathe. Way too much hate. 11 times he pleaded, why'd you have to subjugate? You broke an oath, and now a family. My fists are up, you don't fucking scare me.
I can't breathe. It's the humanity dying right in front of me,
the inanity constricting on the throats of our sanity.
I can't breathe. It's the tears I'm choking back,
our streets are painted black with red filling in the cracks and i'm not ok with that.
I can't breathe. Has anyone seen my inhaler? don't shoot just reaching for air. but you wouldn't care.
I can't breathe. there's too much pollution. Sorry Darwin, but humans have suffocated your theory of evolution.
I can't breathe. you've chopped all the trees, should have swung at the knees, if only he were lighter a few degrees.
I can't breathe. I've been coughing up blood. Serve and protect themselves well next of kin drops tears in mud.
I can't breathe. Justice is blind. Unless your skin's darker than mine. You're more likely to be fitted for a pine where as i'd just pay a fine. Sweet Lucy, never meant for this.
I can't breathe. cuz the rich are making money hand over fist. While they watch us kill each other so that they can exist.
I can't breathe. How can one be safe? when the people we elect blame the victims who are raped. The people who "protect" us won't allow air to escape. time to rename it the United Police States.
I can't breathe. Way too much hate. 11 times he pleaded, why'd you have to subjugate? You broke an oath, and now a family. My fists are up, you don't fucking scare me.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
post script.
It's all gone wrong, man. Everything's been corrupted and destroyed beyond reproach. Something as so simple as loving yourself and others as we go through our brief journeys on this plain. We're just visitors. Tourists who are supposed to be enjoying the scenery and the company of others. We took something so simple and we smashed it into a billion complex pieces and watched it bleed into our descendant's purity, and we did nothing. We're all gonna die, man. Why hand this great gift over to our progeny as it crumbles in flames? Flames we lit because we would rather no one have, if we couldn't have. We were given everything and we still wanted more. We burned this place to the ground because we wanted more. We killed our own species for more. We trampled the scenery and stabbed our mother earth in the heart with industry and the notion that prosperity meant taking from something without giving back.
They ate at the table with kings while millions outside their doors starved. They raised the cost but stripped us of our value. They gave us the scraps to appease and distract. They gave us shiny objects to look in to while they robbed, raped and murdered us. They put us against each other while they sat on their thrones of ivory and laws and counted their money, while discounting us.
The meek didn't inherit the earth. The earth inherited the meek. And i laugh. I laugh because all the sheep walking in a straight line, believing they are free, are headed to their own slaughter. Deep down they know this, but they've grown so complacent, and defeated that they no longer know better. They trudge aimlessly toward the hell they created. This is the hell they built, bled and died over. This is the hell they were told they'd never see because they were sold a dream. They were sold a dream and a handful of beans. All they had to do was offer their soul and allegiance to the nameless, faceless machine. They gave their values, dignity, sweat and tears for a drunk promise. And when they had nothing left, that nameless faceless machine marched them towards hell. There was no fight. No dissent.
Up until that final step before they were pushed in to that polluted, fiery ravine they still believed they were free. They believed they were doing the right thing. For some greater good, that was nor great or good. And as they rotted below the machine grew stronger. The machine had more, and with less to share it with. (Not that they would share to begin with.) That brass ring they hung above was nothing more than a door handle to the draw bridge that would crush us before we could reach our promised land. We became the rock garden. The stepping stones. Fighting and killing for what we don't need, because they convinced us we needed. They need us and we didn't see that. We were the numbers. We were the strength. They had the paper. Silly little paper that we let weigh us down. We let drown us in debt. We were scared of their paper. We foolishly wanted their paper. We wanted to be the machine.
And they fed off our hope and spit us back out in to the ashes.
It's gone now, man. The hope, the strength. The buzzards circle over humanity and i sit on the edge of a cliff with my bottle of pills and a notebook. I never wanted their paper. I was just happy to be here. To visit. They can push me off the cliff into the sea of broken promises. But my hope stays with me. They couldn't kill that. I never had so i never wanted. When I'm old and grey, breathing my last mist. I will shut my eyes in defiance because i never lived blind. My death will mean that i lived. It will be a "fuck you" to the nameless, faceless machine. Even though it's gone now. The last shred of humanity in the world. I've got something they can't take. Something you can't buy, or kill, or discriminate against. I got something you can't oppress. I've got a goddamn soul. And may it carry on through the universe like a lone butterfly threading a needle. I didn't let the world corrupt me.
They ate at the table with kings while millions outside their doors starved. They raised the cost but stripped us of our value. They gave us the scraps to appease and distract. They gave us shiny objects to look in to while they robbed, raped and murdered us. They put us against each other while they sat on their thrones of ivory and laws and counted their money, while discounting us.
The meek didn't inherit the earth. The earth inherited the meek. And i laugh. I laugh because all the sheep walking in a straight line, believing they are free, are headed to their own slaughter. Deep down they know this, but they've grown so complacent, and defeated that they no longer know better. They trudge aimlessly toward the hell they created. This is the hell they built, bled and died over. This is the hell they were told they'd never see because they were sold a dream. They were sold a dream and a handful of beans. All they had to do was offer their soul and allegiance to the nameless, faceless machine. They gave their values, dignity, sweat and tears for a drunk promise. And when they had nothing left, that nameless faceless machine marched them towards hell. There was no fight. No dissent.
Up until that final step before they were pushed in to that polluted, fiery ravine they still believed they were free. They believed they were doing the right thing. For some greater good, that was nor great or good. And as they rotted below the machine grew stronger. The machine had more, and with less to share it with. (Not that they would share to begin with.) That brass ring they hung above was nothing more than a door handle to the draw bridge that would crush us before we could reach our promised land. We became the rock garden. The stepping stones. Fighting and killing for what we don't need, because they convinced us we needed. They need us and we didn't see that. We were the numbers. We were the strength. They had the paper. Silly little paper that we let weigh us down. We let drown us in debt. We were scared of their paper. We foolishly wanted their paper. We wanted to be the machine.
And they fed off our hope and spit us back out in to the ashes.
It's gone now, man. The hope, the strength. The buzzards circle over humanity and i sit on the edge of a cliff with my bottle of pills and a notebook. I never wanted their paper. I was just happy to be here. To visit. They can push me off the cliff into the sea of broken promises. But my hope stays with me. They couldn't kill that. I never had so i never wanted. When I'm old and grey, breathing my last mist. I will shut my eyes in defiance because i never lived blind. My death will mean that i lived. It will be a "fuck you" to the nameless, faceless machine. Even though it's gone now. The last shred of humanity in the world. I've got something they can't take. Something you can't buy, or kill, or discriminate against. I got something you can't oppress. I've got a goddamn soul. And may it carry on through the universe like a lone butterfly threading a needle. I didn't let the world corrupt me.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
The things that i miss.
So tired. I miss the Laundromat with the wooden panel walls. I miss the simplicity, my tape deck , and searching. I miss walking through a crowd and breathing. I miss yelling across the street to greet someone i hadn't seen in ages. I miss the future. I miss losing my voice. I miss walking trails and looking up. The smell of moldy rocks, damp leaves, and the sun using its appendages to peek through the branches. I miss that sinking feeling when rejection approaches. I miss using my senses.
I miss riding my bike while eating a slice of pizza and not telling anyone about it. I miss holding photographs and reliving what they captured. I miss being there. I miss looking at my wrist watch for the time, or getting an idea based on the tides. I miss stopping and taking a minute. I miss waiting, anticipation and spontaneity. I miss not being angry at the over abundance of information, negativity, and social climate change being wired into my conscience by a billion electron beams from a billion sources of media. I miss knowing, but being able to escape in to a state of reality with the simple bounce of a basketball or the flick of a light switch.. I miss the sound of my pick-up truck's tires crushing pebbles on unknown roads. I miss mystery. I miss calling a friend. I miss simplicity. So tired.
I miss riding my bike while eating a slice of pizza and not telling anyone about it. I miss holding photographs and reliving what they captured. I miss being there. I miss looking at my wrist watch for the time, or getting an idea based on the tides. I miss stopping and taking a minute. I miss waiting, anticipation and spontaneity. I miss not being angry at the over abundance of information, negativity, and social climate change being wired into my conscience by a billion electron beams from a billion sources of media. I miss knowing, but being able to escape in to a state of reality with the simple bounce of a basketball or the flick of a light switch.. I miss the sound of my pick-up truck's tires crushing pebbles on unknown roads. I miss mystery. I miss calling a friend. I miss simplicity. So tired.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
a recipe for hate.
It's not often that i have a moment of clarity. Usually I'm ranting about what wrestling moves I'm going to do on people who piss me off or I'm talking about what MILF shopper at my work i want to copulate with on either a bouncy house or their $6000 couch. But today I came home from work and just took a deep breath. Soaked the world in. I see a lot of chaos, destruction, sadness, injustice and a LOT of hate. I'm not a perfect man. I am the contrary. I have sporadic outbursts, irrational thoughts and misdirected rage. I manifest all that through impulsive writing or actions that usually express my discontent with the human race. Despite my apparent disdain and dislike for most i DO NOT have hate in my heart. For anyone.
Hate is the action of fear when people fail to investigate their fear with an open mind. Hate is when you deny yourself the alleviation of fear by simply accepting that not everyone is the same. Hate is turning outward what you let dwell inward. Facing a fear can be difficult and encompassing. It doesn't make you weak if you realize you were wrong. It makes you human. It means you're learning and that is part of the process of evolution and growing as a species. Learn about your neighbor, your community and those who look different than you. Take a few moments to actually get to know another person and all that fear will be washed away. Your anger will subside and soon peace will dwell inward. That's what everyone wants i reckon.
We're all working toward something, there's just so many different ways to get there. Just because my way may not be the same as yours doesn't make you better, or me a bad person. It just works for me. And if something works for you, good. We all want peace in our lives. We all have a struggle that we go through daily to achieve that peace. And i can't hate someone for believing different than me. I can't hate someone for preaching different than me, or liking different food, women, sports, music, art than me. Because stripped down, we all just wanna feel complete. We all wanna be loved. We all just wanna make it through the day. Why can't you just let someone make it through the day?
That racist asshole in the white robe who fucks his sister and his dog on the back porch every night, he wants peace. He doesn't realize that the men he hates work as hard as him to support their families and do them right. He doesn't realize that those same men struggle to make ends meet and are being held down by the same green giant that is crushing 99% of us year in and year out.
That young kid on the street corner slinging dope in one of those cool black puffy jackets that i can't afford, he wants peace. He's just been disenfranchised by a society that labels him before he even knows who he is himself. He's put in a cycle where no one expects anything more of him than slinging dope and residing in jail cells. He's just slinging dope to help his mom out because she's working two jobs to support the family cuz dad skipped out. He's trying to better his family and bring himself peace despite the bullshit label put on him by the 1% who tossed him and his kind out to sea without a life raft then turned their yachts back to shore. Despite that all, these people who are completely different get up each day and defy the odds. They show heart and courage. Their fear and hate hold them back and this is why it's important to the man in the white robe and the kid on the corner that they're not all that different. They're just trying to get by. Different approaches but both desire the same result. We can all achieve that result if we just move that fucking barrier between us labeled "hate".
Different groups of people have hurt others for centuries on over. Inexcusable hurt. Ignorant, deplorable fucks. But we can't judge one person based on what a group of people have done. We can't let that near sightedness be the nail we drive in our coffins. It's so goddamn easy to say " I hate all fucking Muslims. They're nothing but terrorists who want to cut our heads off and take away our bacon!" You can't judge an entire people based on their bad seed's acts. And for the record, i don't even hate the bad seeds. It's too much effort.
I can't occupy what little i have on this earth dwelling on those who have hurt me. No matter what, i will fight them with love. I will punch them in the fucking face if they get too close, but i will still love them. My ex wife cheated on me on my fucking birthday and when i called her on it she tossed me aside and left me to start my life over from the fucking depths of hell. I literally had nothing and she continued to pile on coal to the flames. I climbed back, and i still love her. The Nurse who was THE one destroyed my heart and soul and ruined me for all other women, but i still love her, because she loved me like no one on this earth ever has. She was there. She hates me now, but that's her burden. Same for the ex-wife. I should hate them. I should super kick both of them off the Empire State Building onto a burning taxi cab, but the hate is too consuming. I should hate my father for walking out before my first Christmas and then barely showing up when i was a child. I don't. I love him. I watched him die and told him i love him. I could have easily told him what a piece of shit he was. What a lousy parent, and shit provider he was. I could have told him he wasn't a man and then curb stomped him on the bumper of Dodge Ram. Not even that fucking cunt Renee Julien who molested me when i was 8. Stole my fucking innocence and got away with it. I don't and can't hate her. I fucking pity her because she will live an empty goddamn life and wilt away into dust like the kind she smokes. I could punch her in the face in rage but I don't have that kind of energy, man.
I may hate what someone did, but i will not hate them. Blacks, Whites, Muslims, Jews, Atheists, Latinos (and even those fucking nut job Mormons who probably need some kind of psych meds and electro shock therapy to make them wake up and realize they're idiots. ) Russians and so on all want peace. Just in different ways. We have to accept the other's ways. We don't have to like their methods, and we don't have to use their methods. And maybe one day, if everyone breaks down their self imposed barriers and sees that we're all just trying to get by on this planet we can come to a common and shared method that doesn't include hate or intolerance. Just the basics: Love, compromise and sex. Thank you for reading!
Hate is the action of fear when people fail to investigate their fear with an open mind. Hate is when you deny yourself the alleviation of fear by simply accepting that not everyone is the same. Hate is turning outward what you let dwell inward. Facing a fear can be difficult and encompassing. It doesn't make you weak if you realize you were wrong. It makes you human. It means you're learning and that is part of the process of evolution and growing as a species. Learn about your neighbor, your community and those who look different than you. Take a few moments to actually get to know another person and all that fear will be washed away. Your anger will subside and soon peace will dwell inward. That's what everyone wants i reckon.
We're all working toward something, there's just so many different ways to get there. Just because my way may not be the same as yours doesn't make you better, or me a bad person. It just works for me. And if something works for you, good. We all want peace in our lives. We all have a struggle that we go through daily to achieve that peace. And i can't hate someone for believing different than me. I can't hate someone for preaching different than me, or liking different food, women, sports, music, art than me. Because stripped down, we all just wanna feel complete. We all wanna be loved. We all just wanna make it through the day. Why can't you just let someone make it through the day?
That racist asshole in the white robe who fucks his sister and his dog on the back porch every night, he wants peace. He doesn't realize that the men he hates work as hard as him to support their families and do them right. He doesn't realize that those same men struggle to make ends meet and are being held down by the same green giant that is crushing 99% of us year in and year out.
That young kid on the street corner slinging dope in one of those cool black puffy jackets that i can't afford, he wants peace. He's just been disenfranchised by a society that labels him before he even knows who he is himself. He's put in a cycle where no one expects anything more of him than slinging dope and residing in jail cells. He's just slinging dope to help his mom out because she's working two jobs to support the family cuz dad skipped out. He's trying to better his family and bring himself peace despite the bullshit label put on him by the 1% who tossed him and his kind out to sea without a life raft then turned their yachts back to shore. Despite that all, these people who are completely different get up each day and defy the odds. They show heart and courage. Their fear and hate hold them back and this is why it's important to the man in the white robe and the kid on the corner that they're not all that different. They're just trying to get by. Different approaches but both desire the same result. We can all achieve that result if we just move that fucking barrier between us labeled "hate".
Different groups of people have hurt others for centuries on over. Inexcusable hurt. Ignorant, deplorable fucks. But we can't judge one person based on what a group of people have done. We can't let that near sightedness be the nail we drive in our coffins. It's so goddamn easy to say " I hate all fucking Muslims. They're nothing but terrorists who want to cut our heads off and take away our bacon!" You can't judge an entire people based on their bad seed's acts. And for the record, i don't even hate the bad seeds. It's too much effort.
I can't occupy what little i have on this earth dwelling on those who have hurt me. No matter what, i will fight them with love. I will punch them in the fucking face if they get too close, but i will still love them. My ex wife cheated on me on my fucking birthday and when i called her on it she tossed me aside and left me to start my life over from the fucking depths of hell. I literally had nothing and she continued to pile on coal to the flames. I climbed back, and i still love her. The Nurse who was THE one destroyed my heart and soul and ruined me for all other women, but i still love her, because she loved me like no one on this earth ever has. She was there. She hates me now, but that's her burden. Same for the ex-wife. I should hate them. I should super kick both of them off the Empire State Building onto a burning taxi cab, but the hate is too consuming. I should hate my father for walking out before my first Christmas and then barely showing up when i was a child. I don't. I love him. I watched him die and told him i love him. I could have easily told him what a piece of shit he was. What a lousy parent, and shit provider he was. I could have told him he wasn't a man and then curb stomped him on the bumper of Dodge Ram. Not even that fucking cunt Renee Julien who molested me when i was 8. Stole my fucking innocence and got away with it. I don't and can't hate her. I fucking pity her because she will live an empty goddamn life and wilt away into dust like the kind she smokes. I could punch her in the face in rage but I don't have that kind of energy, man.
Sunday, November 9, 2014
everything in perspective.
I used to love sailing until my ship floated on. Now i'm nauseous by the waves and the shore they crash upon.
I'm sure I've crashed along with the throngs of misguided souls following an out of key siren's song. Blinded by the guise that the wheel would always roll. I was wrong,
but how i loved you, you could never know, because weakness is a virtue i chose not to show.
I still battle today. Standing guard over an invisible shell upon the graves where the decaying memories dwell.
Shit, i wasn't even after thought. Living off the radar counting empty spots in an abandoned parking lot. Read between the lines. You may always be the one, but you're ten minus nine.
I'm sure I've crashed along with the throngs of misguided souls following an out of key siren's song. Blinded by the guise that the wheel would always roll. I was wrong,
but how i loved you, you could never know, because weakness is a virtue i chose not to show.
I still battle today. Standing guard over an invisible shell upon the graves where the decaying memories dwell.
Shit, i wasn't even after thought. Living off the radar counting empty spots in an abandoned parking lot. Read between the lines. You may always be the one, but you're ten minus nine.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Exile
If i'm as cold as a glacier it's cuz you left me out at sea. I am that island sinking in your complacency. i don't wanna die from feeling of inadequacy, if i killed myself it would be so you would stop misplacing me. My veins burst like live wires while the heat's chasing me. as i melt like plastic wrap in your jaded memory.
i am more than just a figure of speech. I'm a hurricane meandering toward the beach. The climate's changed and i'm longer outta reach. I won't let you see my eye before I've made you obsolete. You believe in freedom , by not my right to speak? well please bend over and put your tongue in my cheek. I'm in exile, but i'm in great company.
There's a pencil sharpener on my wall. I keep my weapon primed. everyone wants a pound of flesh from a moment of my time, and when they get what they came for i'm exiled to sky lines. But when i pierce their brains with led , the words they spread wolf cries. Leave me to be devoured, in to the belly of the beast. Exiled in to freedom, thank you for killing me.
i am more than just a figure of speech. I'm a hurricane meandering toward the beach. The climate's changed and i'm longer outta reach. I won't let you see my eye before I've made you obsolete. You believe in freedom , by not my right to speak? well please bend over and put your tongue in my cheek. I'm in exile, but i'm in great company.
There's a pencil sharpener on my wall. I keep my weapon primed. everyone wants a pound of flesh from a moment of my time, and when they get what they came for i'm exiled to sky lines. But when i pierce their brains with led , the words they spread wolf cries. Leave me to be devoured, in to the belly of the beast. Exiled in to freedom, thank you for killing me.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Drawn and Quarted.
Under a blanket of clichés , i toil the night away. I gotta fake that i'm asleep, so my soul can keep from burning up on concrete. Tied to my hands and feet, the rope melts into my skin. Dragged to oblivion until i'm next to everything. The vultures and vampires toast at the bonfire and my chimney is dry. No sculptures or spare tires, I'm built up to fall flat. And if i died the horses, they'd still run until my skin burned to ash on prairie grass.
The rope burns my spirit until my will fades. Even in death they wanna take me away. My eyes are chalky, i see no end. A sullen portrait bent on a park bench. No minute to breathe before the fuckin ropes clench. Use my strength, wear me down, you're not my cause but i keep you around. Maybe if i don't make a sound? Maybe if i just whisper? Maybe if i had 5 minutes alone i wouldn't miss her? So many blisters, I climb and claw to reach my own path. Drawn and quartered my halves become halves like i'm all that they have. Being strong for them all, with no time to grow scabs, and heal all the wounds from being beaten and dragged and hailed like a cab. I just wanna get high and take a long nap. Am i allowed to be upset or you the only who can be sad? I guess it's a stretch. Drawn and quartered to death. I've got a great hiding place for my ghost beyond where my secrets are kept. The closed book fooled you with its glass cover.
The rope burns my spirit until my will fades. Even in death they wanna take me away. My eyes are chalky, i see no end. A sullen portrait bent on a park bench. No minute to breathe before the fuckin ropes clench. Use my strength, wear me down, you're not my cause but i keep you around. Maybe if i don't make a sound? Maybe if i just whisper? Maybe if i had 5 minutes alone i wouldn't miss her? So many blisters, I climb and claw to reach my own path. Drawn and quartered my halves become halves like i'm all that they have. Being strong for them all, with no time to grow scabs, and heal all the wounds from being beaten and dragged and hailed like a cab. I just wanna get high and take a long nap. Am i allowed to be upset or you the only who can be sad? I guess it's a stretch. Drawn and quartered to death. I've got a great hiding place for my ghost beyond where my secrets are kept. The closed book fooled you with its glass cover.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Allergic to Oak
And the sun rose today. Shining on you and the shadow on the grave.
The hourglass a bitter sweet sand to a sour past.
Rain showers last in memories.
Acorns falling, saying "bury me"
But please do it under a cherry tree,
I got an allergy to oak, my eye is broke as I watch them hang my effigy.
And if I had an ounce of cowardice I would leave them all powerless,
in a pool of blood next to me.
I've got an allergy to oak, my heart is broke,
beating to the sound of a bent card in the spokes.
Riding the wave. The shadow on the grave.
The cork scented smoke, angry incense and the moldy cave.
So close but out of the picture. A moment in time, a broken glass slipper.
A rotting pumpkin on a rusted stoop as the clock hit midnight and the porch light flickered.
And if I had an ounce of cowardice I'd tie a rope to a branch and fly out of this.
And the sun rose on tired oak. It shed some dust that made me itch, water and choke.
I got an allergy and a drying coat. So I shed the skin and cleared my throat.
Steady traffic on the lower hill, I'm up here with only time to kill.
But I don't believe in murder, and I'm not a coward. So I took the time to fill the pot of blooming flowers.
Seems what I seek so close but outta reach. I had it all now it's just me,
a cactus and umbrella tree. I'm allergic to oak.
The hourglass a bitter sweet sand to a sour past.
Rain showers last in memories.
Acorns falling, saying "bury me"
But please do it under a cherry tree,
I got an allergy to oak, my eye is broke as I watch them hang my effigy.
And if I had an ounce of cowardice I would leave them all powerless,
in a pool of blood next to me.
I've got an allergy to oak, my heart is broke,
beating to the sound of a bent card in the spokes.
Riding the wave. The shadow on the grave.
The cork scented smoke, angry incense and the moldy cave.
So close but out of the picture. A moment in time, a broken glass slipper.
A rotting pumpkin on a rusted stoop as the clock hit midnight and the porch light flickered.
And if I had an ounce of cowardice I'd tie a rope to a branch and fly out of this.
And the sun rose on tired oak. It shed some dust that made me itch, water and choke.
I got an allergy and a drying coat. So I shed the skin and cleared my throat.
Steady traffic on the lower hill, I'm up here with only time to kill.
But I don't believe in murder, and I'm not a coward. So I took the time to fill the pot of blooming flowers.
Seems what I seek so close but outta reach. I had it all now it's just me,
a cactus and umbrella tree. I'm allergic to oak.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
The Homage
Nobody can crush a soul like you. Can give life to a vice on a sleepless night like you. Your words carry me through fields of dismay. Atop the trees, I'm with the breeze as your voice sends the storm away. You are the interstate in which my mind wanders. My destination unknown but the heart grows fonder. The days grow longer as your notes do reflect. There's a parallel between life and the sunset. the inspired fire which burns in the mortal sublets. You are the cooling effect.
Nobody can perk the mind like you. Can get the coil to unwind like you. Your thoughts guide the lost to a place they forgot. Your words are home, a sanctuary for the desolate periods in a run on poem. You don't cast a shadow by choice as you stand with the strangers where the moss is moist. Your humanity the only true rival to your voice. Nobody can crush a soul like you, and that is why I gathered the pieces scattered around the world by you, strewn them as words of gratitude for every peaceful afternoon or wide awake moon that I lived cuz of you. This is the homage.
Nobody can perk the mind like you. Can get the coil to unwind like you. Your thoughts guide the lost to a place they forgot. Your words are home, a sanctuary for the desolate periods in a run on poem. You don't cast a shadow by choice as you stand with the strangers where the moss is moist. Your humanity the only true rival to your voice. Nobody can crush a soul like you, and that is why I gathered the pieces scattered around the world by you, strewn them as words of gratitude for every peaceful afternoon or wide awake moon that I lived cuz of you. This is the homage.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
walking with a stranger.
Walking by the stranger, it all made sense.
All the words in my head couldn't diminish.
The project's finished. Progress is snake oil for the time trying to escape the minutes.
What is a happy ending but an oxy moron, There's nothing happy about the end or the cold ground the rain pours on.
Turned on the war to find the news on. It's not happy, and it never ends.
Happiness is a love letter that you didn't remember to send.
Walking by the stranger and realizing he's your best friend.
Words to amend can mend the fogged lens.
I can see clear again and he can see the other side of the fence.
Chemical warfare inside the brainstem has been downgraded to heartfelt sentiment
A sprinkle of resentment and an after dinner mint.
We're on this bridge, now allies. no longer running from magpies
No bag pipes playing sad byes, there was never a bad guy.
Just a confused lullaby to comfort the butterflies.
Their not burning cocoons because they can finally shut their eyes.
Me and the stranger, the long found friend.
we'll fight to the death before we let this happy end.
All the words in my head couldn't diminish.
The project's finished. Progress is snake oil for the time trying to escape the minutes.
What is a happy ending but an oxy moron, There's nothing happy about the end or the cold ground the rain pours on.
Turned on the war to find the news on. It's not happy, and it never ends.
Happiness is a love letter that you didn't remember to send.
Walking by the stranger and realizing he's your best friend.
Words to amend can mend the fogged lens.
I can see clear again and he can see the other side of the fence.
Chemical warfare inside the brainstem has been downgraded to heartfelt sentiment
A sprinkle of resentment and an after dinner mint.
We're on this bridge, now allies. no longer running from magpies
No bag pipes playing sad byes, there was never a bad guy.
Just a confused lullaby to comfort the butterflies.
Their not burning cocoons because they can finally shut their eyes.
Me and the stranger, the long found friend.
we'll fight to the death before we let this happy end.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Chalk lines and Street Signs
and we're all poorly drawn chalk lines strewn across a million landmines. Hand stands on scared nettles and bleeding thorn vines. We were born fine but corrupted by our own air. Heirs to the vacant throne inside the broken home of despair. We're the watermark on a voided check. Dried up ink fading with the sunset. The temperature is rising, we're doing just the opposite. Drawn to extinction with out a composite sketch. We are the evidence in our own criminal negligence.
I could string together words like pearls and let them gently kiss your neck. But the lack of waves in the emotion would make the storm meaningless. I was born in a home without a father or a roof. a revolving door of false truths and apathy as the proof. A shattered faith and no escape as the smoke stacks laid waste. The trains burning holes in to space with the coal from their freight. I looked on from my window in 1988. Back then we were late. Not fashionably, just conveniently spending money irrationally.but there is no currency , then or currently, that could stop the tornadoes from running free so stunningly.
We are nuclear bombs controlled by automatons. There's dead bees on the lawn and the flowers are gone. I'm not yet a chalk line but I'm getting measured. If only I could stop the weather by saying something clever. I won't follow the street signs to a inevitable never. I may be with the ashes, but I burn with purpose. I will jump across the landmines till I'm no longer nervous. Eternal struggle worth every hour it brings. I'll bounce your acid rain checks in the interest of the notes the birds sing. She will rise.
I could string together words like pearls and let them gently kiss your neck. But the lack of waves in the emotion would make the storm meaningless. I was born in a home without a father or a roof. a revolving door of false truths and apathy as the proof. A shattered faith and no escape as the smoke stacks laid waste. The trains burning holes in to space with the coal from their freight. I looked on from my window in 1988. Back then we were late. Not fashionably, just conveniently spending money irrationally.but there is no currency , then or currently, that could stop the tornadoes from running free so stunningly.
We are nuclear bombs controlled by automatons. There's dead bees on the lawn and the flowers are gone. I'm not yet a chalk line but I'm getting measured. If only I could stop the weather by saying something clever. I won't follow the street signs to a inevitable never. I may be with the ashes, but I burn with purpose. I will jump across the landmines till I'm no longer nervous. Eternal struggle worth every hour it brings. I'll bounce your acid rain checks in the interest of the notes the birds sing. She will rise.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
passing strangers.
I had a dream that I went off my meds. It was brought on by the anxiety that I may actually have to go off my meds because I can no longer afford health insurance and apparently I make too much money to qualify for free state's assistance. ( The whole healthcare debate is for another day and time.) The dream itself wasn't very memorable or specific aside from the confusion as to who I was. It was the whole day afterward that brought me back to those times of transition. Those days and weeks when you're either starting your meds or tapering off. Vivid in its haunting essence.
I first started anti anxiety/depression ( Prozac) meds and anti panic ( Klonopin) meds back in 2005. This was an actual legit regiment and not self medicating which I had done the 5 years leading up to this.
There's a huge inner struggle when you first start treatment. You don't know which part of you is real. You fight with the voices who think you're weak for submitting to a chemical. You fight with the chemicals that put out the fire inside you, and silence the voices that were your passion. ( A pause as I take a klonopin to help me to fall asleep.) You begin to feel better though. Months pass, things get realized in therapy, goals are set and met, and you've reached a peak. You know who you are. You have the skills and insight to navigate bouts of depression and anxiety. You have the thoughtfulness not to aimlessly lash out at your anger's whim. But you feel emotionally devoid. It's as if you're in a body inside a body trapped in a room with a half open window.
I don't think for one second I'll ever be fixed. I'm smart enough to know symptoms will rear their heads from time to time, but I'm strong enough to know I can decapitate them and send them along their merry way. I'm thinking about this now because I may be forced to pass that stranger again. Maybe I'm over ambitious but I really believe I'm ready. I never thought me requiring medication would be a permanent thing. I secretly wanted it to , because I feared that stranger who I may pass again. I do resign that I may from time to time have to take a klonopin in dire emergency as sometimes the physical anxiety can't be suppressed and I will have bouts of syncope otherwise.
There's a freedom to not needing medication. It is only a matter of the strength inside whether or not one can handle the freedom. In order to actualize my goals as a father, and artist I need that freedom back. That fire. I've just gotta pass that stranger and accept he's an old friend.
It's a slow transition. You have to spend weeks tapering off the anti depressants. Constantly take notes in changes of behavior and/or reactions to every day things. You have to be willing to admit that at the end of the journey you may be stuck with the chemical cure for life. The feeling is overwhelming.
Nights get longer as you taper. You feel that protective body leaving you. In the darkness of your closed eyes you literally pass by yourself. I literally saw my shadow pulling away the layers and I could finally breathe. There is a giant weight lifted off you. Your senses are heightened, your nerves have more feeling and you begin to come alive. You feel like a rock is being moved from outside your cave and the light is slowly caressing your face until your whole body is soaked in its life.
You see, think, smell, taste things faster. My physical body becomes faster. That feeling of numbness that the Prozac and Klonopin gave me is being shed away as I see the world for the first time. The stranger wishes me luck, and I him.
I want that back. I wanna see the stranger one more time and let him know I'm okay. Talking with a therapist for over 5 years has been a mirror forcing me not to look away as my past crumbled to ashes before me. The wisdom that has grown in me from my own errors is ready to be the shadow that moves the rock away from the cave. Give me back the light so that the fire can burn, controlled and with fervor. I can let the voices speak their mind, but now I've got veto power. I'm ready for this next step in my growth. I'm ready for the passing strangers to meet again, share notes and conquer the world.
I'm ready.
I first started anti anxiety/depression ( Prozac) meds and anti panic ( Klonopin) meds back in 2005. This was an actual legit regiment and not self medicating which I had done the 5 years leading up to this.
There's a huge inner struggle when you first start treatment. You don't know which part of you is real. You fight with the voices who think you're weak for submitting to a chemical. You fight with the chemicals that put out the fire inside you, and silence the voices that were your passion. ( A pause as I take a klonopin to help me to fall asleep.) You begin to feel better though. Months pass, things get realized in therapy, goals are set and met, and you've reached a peak. You know who you are. You have the skills and insight to navigate bouts of depression and anxiety. You have the thoughtfulness not to aimlessly lash out at your anger's whim. But you feel emotionally devoid. It's as if you're in a body inside a body trapped in a room with a half open window.
I don't think for one second I'll ever be fixed. I'm smart enough to know symptoms will rear their heads from time to time, but I'm strong enough to know I can decapitate them and send them along their merry way. I'm thinking about this now because I may be forced to pass that stranger again. Maybe I'm over ambitious but I really believe I'm ready. I never thought me requiring medication would be a permanent thing. I secretly wanted it to , because I feared that stranger who I may pass again. I do resign that I may from time to time have to take a klonopin in dire emergency as sometimes the physical anxiety can't be suppressed and I will have bouts of syncope otherwise.
There's a freedom to not needing medication. It is only a matter of the strength inside whether or not one can handle the freedom. In order to actualize my goals as a father, and artist I need that freedom back. That fire. I've just gotta pass that stranger and accept he's an old friend.
It's a slow transition. You have to spend weeks tapering off the anti depressants. Constantly take notes in changes of behavior and/or reactions to every day things. You have to be willing to admit that at the end of the journey you may be stuck with the chemical cure for life. The feeling is overwhelming.
Nights get longer as you taper. You feel that protective body leaving you. In the darkness of your closed eyes you literally pass by yourself. I literally saw my shadow pulling away the layers and I could finally breathe. There is a giant weight lifted off you. Your senses are heightened, your nerves have more feeling and you begin to come alive. You feel like a rock is being moved from outside your cave and the light is slowly caressing your face until your whole body is soaked in its life.
You see, think, smell, taste things faster. My physical body becomes faster. That feeling of numbness that the Prozac and Klonopin gave me is being shed away as I see the world for the first time. The stranger wishes me luck, and I him.
I want that back. I wanna see the stranger one more time and let him know I'm okay. Talking with a therapist for over 5 years has been a mirror forcing me not to look away as my past crumbled to ashes before me. The wisdom that has grown in me from my own errors is ready to be the shadow that moves the rock away from the cave. Give me back the light so that the fire can burn, controlled and with fervor. I can let the voices speak their mind, but now I've got veto power. I'm ready for this next step in my growth. I'm ready for the passing strangers to meet again, share notes and conquer the world.
I'm ready.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Things That Activate My Neurosis.
It has been established and very well known for some time that I am a highly neurotic person. I think everything I have is AIDS. And I'm not trying to be funny. I will get a cold and assume it's AIDS. I will have a headache and think I'm having an aneurism. I also drink 2 gallons of cranberry juice a week because I think anytime my sides hurt I've got kidney stones. Any time I see an old guy in a B.U.M. Equipment sweatshirt walking by me with a piece of paper I get in fighting stance because I'm certain he's about to serve me those papers and I'll be forced to go to court again. My apologies to all the old, recovering alcoholic men I have assaulted because I mistook them for a process server. But my neurosis sets me off. Here are some other things that cause me to go into a neurotic episode.
People with down syndrome eating: Nothing against people with down syndrome. My work buddy Derek has down syndrome and he's awesome because he loves Big Daddy Kane and the Petshop Boys. I just can't watch him eat. I get these weird twitch. I can't control it. My lazy eye reverberates and my left cheek gets numb. They always eat egg salad. ALWAYS. And when they chew it's like water logged boots stepping on a carpet. I can't take it. I'm freaking out just describing it. I'm gonna take 3 Bayer so I don't have a heart attack.
People who scratch their legs while wearing corduroy pants: When I hear that sound it sends an electroshock up the side of my neck. I lose control of my muscles. I can actually physically feel the sound. It's so dry, like sandpaper massaging my nerves. People need to stop wearing corduroys. I feel like I'm seizing every time someone scratches them. The same thing applies to the sound of a windbreaker rubbing against itself when someone power walks. I become a new animal. I lose all control and time and I've probably had several strokes because of it. I'm doing a stroke test right now to make sure I'm not having one. I want to cut off people's fingers. Please only buy jeans and wear a t-shirt when you run.
People who look at me in the waiting room: I can feel their eyes on me. I purposely keep my face buried in a magazine to avoid any interaction with the psychopaths in the waiting room at my therapist's office. There's this one woman there who looks exactly like the fat guy on "Lost", who must have appointments on the same time as mine with another therapist in the office every week. I know she's watching. I sense the empty gaze on me. It feels like a hippo's breath on my shirt. I know she wants to say something so I fake read with even more intent. All my neurosis form into one massive maelstrom of molecular madness jumping through my pores in a hot sweat as I try to climb inside myself to avoid this thing staring at me. I wanna lose it. I really do. I wanna invent an invisible paint and bathe myself in it before every therapy visit. I want this monstrosity to stare at a magazine suspended in air and have a fucking freak out so badly they she gets locked away in a mental hospital for the rest of her natural life , where she is forced to sit in silence at stacks of magazines all day.
Those are just some of the things that make me nuts. thanks :)
People with down syndrome eating: Nothing against people with down syndrome. My work buddy Derek has down syndrome and he's awesome because he loves Big Daddy Kane and the Petshop Boys. I just can't watch him eat. I get these weird twitch. I can't control it. My lazy eye reverberates and my left cheek gets numb. They always eat egg salad. ALWAYS. And when they chew it's like water logged boots stepping on a carpet. I can't take it. I'm freaking out just describing it. I'm gonna take 3 Bayer so I don't have a heart attack.
People who scratch their legs while wearing corduroy pants: When I hear that sound it sends an electroshock up the side of my neck. I lose control of my muscles. I can actually physically feel the sound. It's so dry, like sandpaper massaging my nerves. People need to stop wearing corduroys. I feel like I'm seizing every time someone scratches them. The same thing applies to the sound of a windbreaker rubbing against itself when someone power walks. I become a new animal. I lose all control and time and I've probably had several strokes because of it. I'm doing a stroke test right now to make sure I'm not having one. I want to cut off people's fingers. Please only buy jeans and wear a t-shirt when you run.
People who look at me in the waiting room: I can feel their eyes on me. I purposely keep my face buried in a magazine to avoid any interaction with the psychopaths in the waiting room at my therapist's office. There's this one woman there who looks exactly like the fat guy on "Lost", who must have appointments on the same time as mine with another therapist in the office every week. I know she's watching. I sense the empty gaze on me. It feels like a hippo's breath on my shirt. I know she wants to say something so I fake read with even more intent. All my neurosis form into one massive maelstrom of molecular madness jumping through my pores in a hot sweat as I try to climb inside myself to avoid this thing staring at me. I wanna lose it. I really do. I wanna invent an invisible paint and bathe myself in it before every therapy visit. I want this monstrosity to stare at a magazine suspended in air and have a fucking freak out so badly they she gets locked away in a mental hospital for the rest of her natural life , where she is forced to sit in silence at stacks of magazines all day.
Those are just some of the things that make me nuts. thanks :)
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
how i get by on $11.50 an hour.
For a full year and one month I have been living off $11.50 an hour and scheduled for 38 hours a week ( some weeks I got overtime.) Living alone. No roommate, no subsidized housing, food stamps or other government aid. Not that it wouldn't have been nice to get any of those things, but that's just how it is. Before taxes a 40 hour week at $11.50 would be $460. A fair amount, but I will break down my living expenses to see how little that is.
First, my rent. That's $775 a month. ( all expenses broken down into months.) My child support is $354 based on a 4 week month ($88.50 a week.) My health m insurance is $40 ( Thank you Obama!) and my scripts are roughly $20. My heat/water/electric in a conservative month will total to $50. My shitty Boost Mobile phone that has no internet, or porn or anything costs $37. My cable/internet costs $90. Then there's a $15 donation to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, giving me a total of $1351 a month in expenses. Based on a 40 hour week I'd gross $1840 a month. Uncle Sam takes his cut of $607 leaving me with a net of $1233 a month. That would leave me -$118 for the month. And that's before I purchase any groceries. Now how do I manage when I'm set up to be in the red each month?
I'll tell you how I manage: This fucking chip on my shoulder, that's how!
By knowing what I can make in a month I plan shit out on a tight budget. I run my personal finances as if I were a business, which makes Mitt Romney fucking proud of me because he says corporations are people and well, he's fucking got me on that one. ( Mormon asshole.) I sacrifice a lot too. I don't really go out, or buy things or eat things. I don't really do anything. But it's a far cry from where I was 3 years ago. I crawled back again, with a bigger chip than ever. Sure the employment situation isn't ideal but it's allowed me to slowly ascend. And the sacrifices suck but it beats the alternative which would be homelessness and loss of my child. 2 things I would kill before I'd let happen.
I'm fairly content with the bare minimum but I know and am aware I have to keep climbing. I set goals for myself. Ones that I am achieving in time. There's a great deal of patience involved. It's what's helped keep me moving forward these past 13 months. I set goals of finding a job I could maintain without quitting or being fired because of some result of an action caused by my mental illness and short temper. That was a huge first leap as I have held this same shitty job for 3 years now. My next goal was to get an apartment of my own, which happened when put behind the 8 ball by an eviction notice. I work best from behind the 8 ball. The shadows are my home and such. So I got this apartment in March 2013, thus achieving my 2nd goal. My 3rd goal was to get a cat for my son, which I did by convincing my landlady who was at first against the idea, to let me keep this cat because it was severely abused and neglected. ( total fucking lie but I will do anything for my son.) So my 3rd goal achieved.
And I just totally went the fuck off topic because I got distracted a fire engine. How I am able to survive on such shit wages. That is my thesis. The trick is to always dance on that fine line. I might "create" more work for myself so I have to stay an extra 15 minutes. Do that 4 times a week and you've got an hour. Clock in early from lunch by 15 minutes, 4 times a week and you've got another hour. Find out what your boss's interests are. And when you've got about 10 minutes left in your shift go to him to check out. Let him know your work is complete and you're leaving. Then bring up whatever his interests are. Get him going on them for a good 20 minutes ( I do this all the fucking time. my boss loves to talk about the weather. he will fucking tell me the coolest stories about snowstorms for like a fucking hour.) Do this 4 times a week and you've got yourself another hour! That's 3 extra hours so far. Overtime = time and a half so I've already got myself an extra $51.75 that week. That would put me at $207 extra a month. And that's a minimum. By starting 10 minutes early and doing all of the aforementioned I pull in an extra $300 a month. This puts me over about $182 which is plenty for groceries. And I don't require a lot of food because I eat a lot at work. Soups and shit from the bakery. I really only need to pay for one meal a day, which is my peanut butter and jelly. The 2 loafs of bread for the week cost $4 and the peanut butter and jelly are free because my drunk neighbor gets them for free for me at the local food pantry. I have a Brita water filter thanks to my mom and that refills my water bottles so I always have something to drink.
This seems like a lot of work, but it really isn't. And it seems like I'm just treading water. Slowly, I gain more and more. Always staying true to the virtues that have kept me afloat. Never getting complacent in my diligence to being fiscally responsible. And as I gain, those around me will gain because I know struggle. I know sacrifice. I will chip in as they have for me. There's a method behind my madness. And my madness is how I don't dismay during his climb. I proved to myself that I can come back from anything. I proved that I can keep charging and fighting. Anyone can do it. Just get that chip on your shoulder, set your goals and fucking attack them like vultures on a dead hiker.
First, my rent. That's $775 a month. ( all expenses broken down into months.) My child support is $354 based on a 4 week month ($88.50 a week.) My health m insurance is $40 ( Thank you Obama!) and my scripts are roughly $20. My heat/water/electric in a conservative month will total to $50. My shitty Boost Mobile phone that has no internet, or porn or anything costs $37. My cable/internet costs $90. Then there's a $15 donation to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, giving me a total of $1351 a month in expenses. Based on a 40 hour week I'd gross $1840 a month. Uncle Sam takes his cut of $607 leaving me with a net of $1233 a month. That would leave me -$118 for the month. And that's before I purchase any groceries. Now how do I manage when I'm set up to be in the red each month?
I'll tell you how I manage: This fucking chip on my shoulder, that's how!
By knowing what I can make in a month I plan shit out on a tight budget. I run my personal finances as if I were a business, which makes Mitt Romney fucking proud of me because he says corporations are people and well, he's fucking got me on that one. ( Mormon asshole.) I sacrifice a lot too. I don't really go out, or buy things or eat things. I don't really do anything. But it's a far cry from where I was 3 years ago. I crawled back again, with a bigger chip than ever. Sure the employment situation isn't ideal but it's allowed me to slowly ascend. And the sacrifices suck but it beats the alternative which would be homelessness and loss of my child. 2 things I would kill before I'd let happen.
I'm fairly content with the bare minimum but I know and am aware I have to keep climbing. I set goals for myself. Ones that I am achieving in time. There's a great deal of patience involved. It's what's helped keep me moving forward these past 13 months. I set goals of finding a job I could maintain without quitting or being fired because of some result of an action caused by my mental illness and short temper. That was a huge first leap as I have held this same shitty job for 3 years now. My next goal was to get an apartment of my own, which happened when put behind the 8 ball by an eviction notice. I work best from behind the 8 ball. The shadows are my home and such. So I got this apartment in March 2013, thus achieving my 2nd goal. My 3rd goal was to get a cat for my son, which I did by convincing my landlady who was at first against the idea, to let me keep this cat because it was severely abused and neglected. ( total fucking lie but I will do anything for my son.) So my 3rd goal achieved.
And I just totally went the fuck off topic because I got distracted a fire engine. How I am able to survive on such shit wages. That is my thesis. The trick is to always dance on that fine line. I might "create" more work for myself so I have to stay an extra 15 minutes. Do that 4 times a week and you've got an hour. Clock in early from lunch by 15 minutes, 4 times a week and you've got another hour. Find out what your boss's interests are. And when you've got about 10 minutes left in your shift go to him to check out. Let him know your work is complete and you're leaving. Then bring up whatever his interests are. Get him going on them for a good 20 minutes ( I do this all the fucking time. my boss loves to talk about the weather. he will fucking tell me the coolest stories about snowstorms for like a fucking hour.) Do this 4 times a week and you've got yourself another hour! That's 3 extra hours so far. Overtime = time and a half so I've already got myself an extra $51.75 that week. That would put me at $207 extra a month. And that's a minimum. By starting 10 minutes early and doing all of the aforementioned I pull in an extra $300 a month. This puts me over about $182 which is plenty for groceries. And I don't require a lot of food because I eat a lot at work. Soups and shit from the bakery. I really only need to pay for one meal a day, which is my peanut butter and jelly. The 2 loafs of bread for the week cost $4 and the peanut butter and jelly are free because my drunk neighbor gets them for free for me at the local food pantry. I have a Brita water filter thanks to my mom and that refills my water bottles so I always have something to drink.
This seems like a lot of work, but it really isn't. And it seems like I'm just treading water. Slowly, I gain more and more. Always staying true to the virtues that have kept me afloat. Never getting complacent in my diligence to being fiscally responsible. And as I gain, those around me will gain because I know struggle. I know sacrifice. I will chip in as they have for me. There's a method behind my madness. And my madness is how I don't dismay during his climb. I proved to myself that I can come back from anything. I proved that I can keep charging and fighting. Anyone can do it. Just get that chip on your shoulder, set your goals and fucking attack them like vultures on a dead hiker.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Thank You
You are the words I couldn't say. The camera on the hill, unbalanced tripod photographing memories drifting away. I know I've got anger issues, but the horse was already dead. To the beat of my own drum you played the rhythm in my head. I can't tell you what was never said, but I'm sure you saw my eyes and I know you're well read. You were the kindest of winters in the season of untangled threads.
You are the words I couldn't say, live breathe or think. I couldn't capture your image because our (friend)ship would sink. I know I get sea sick, but your waves were empathy, and if I raised the issue you would have let me down gently. You were the softest of snow, under a reticent moon. And I treaded lightly across your shadow's hidden plumes.
You were the words I couldn't say, today or that day. But you were a vestige of humanity that I'll carry to the grave. A lesson in life from the most simple of gestures. And if I showed you the words you could string them together, and sew the torn thread from the day I don't remember. You are the words I couldn't say and I think that's why you stayed. Thank you.
You are the words I couldn't say, live breathe or think. I couldn't capture your image because our (friend)ship would sink. I know I get sea sick, but your waves were empathy, and if I raised the issue you would have let me down gently. You were the softest of snow, under a reticent moon. And I treaded lightly across your shadow's hidden plumes.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
i had that dream again.
I have this dream where i'm on the docks waiting for a boat that was supposed to pick me up and take me to an island free of stupidity and inanity. We had it all planned out. i was going to get a sex change and then disappear without anyone knowing. then once i was on the island i would get a sex change back to being a man once safe on the island. There's a bunch of ships at the dock and i get on the one i think is the right one. Everything seems okay at first. we are sailing along and the ship laughs at my jokes because the ship has a soul because in a former life it was Jim Henson. It didn't talk like Kermit though. It sounded more like the puppet from the Wilkins Coffee commercial. " Bad things happen to people that don't drink Wilkins!".
We saw some amazing things at sea. I met a bunch of the ship's friends. They all had weird voices like Tinkerbell. We were on a cool journey. i made friends with another ship who like alot of the same things i did. We bonded when my ship got drunk and sputtered too loudly. It was then i realized i was on the wrong ship!!!
The clouds got real thick and ominous. thunder rumbled like angry Barry White gargling after an unpleasant visit to the dentist. The ship i once trusted to take me to my safe island where i would build a hut and sell coffee had abandoned me at sea!! i was so mad at myself for getting on the wrong boat. The other boat with whom i bonded sailed around me in circles to make sure i didn't drown. Sadly it was already filled to capacity with happy passengers going to their own blissful island. I punched the ocean in the face in anger. The ship meant for me was already boarded! my throat got real tight in sadness as a whirlpool formed beneath me. so close to the right ship, yet so far in the undertow. as i sank to my demise just inches from my island i took one last look at the ship that i was meant to be on. I closed my eyes and captured the image because i couldn't capture it's heart. I awoke after the storm. On my own island. My strength was back. My freedom was back, but there was something missing. I moved along and had a successful coffee hut on my island. I eventually settled down with Emma Roberts but every now and then i'd look to the horizon and see that ship. The fluttering sails of compassion meandering on by. i'd pause for a moment and lament upon not boarding. I turned in sadness with my squid friend who was sort of racist but had a good heart and we'd go back to the hut and hug emma roberts.
and this a story of a real drum that constantly badgers me!
We saw some amazing things at sea. I met a bunch of the ship's friends. They all had weird voices like Tinkerbell. We were on a cool journey. i made friends with another ship who like alot of the same things i did. We bonded when my ship got drunk and sputtered too loudly. It was then i realized i was on the wrong ship!!!
The clouds got real thick and ominous. thunder rumbled like angry Barry White gargling after an unpleasant visit to the dentist. The ship i once trusted to take me to my safe island where i would build a hut and sell coffee had abandoned me at sea!! i was so mad at myself for getting on the wrong boat. The other boat with whom i bonded sailed around me in circles to make sure i didn't drown. Sadly it was already filled to capacity with happy passengers going to their own blissful island. I punched the ocean in the face in anger. The ship meant for me was already boarded! my throat got real tight in sadness as a whirlpool formed beneath me. so close to the right ship, yet so far in the undertow. as i sank to my demise just inches from my island i took one last look at the ship that i was meant to be on. I closed my eyes and captured the image because i couldn't capture it's heart. I awoke after the storm. On my own island. My strength was back. My freedom was back, but there was something missing. I moved along and had a successful coffee hut on my island. I eventually settled down with Emma Roberts but every now and then i'd look to the horizon and see that ship. The fluttering sails of compassion meandering on by. i'd pause for a moment and lament upon not boarding. I turned in sadness with my squid friend who was sort of racist but had a good heart and we'd go back to the hut and hug emma roberts.
and this a story of a real drum that constantly badgers me!
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