my poor little heart

Don't worry about me
I'm strong, I can move on
I've been through this before
I'm not afraid, not anymore
It's just my heart, my poor little heart

But I'm not afraid, not of pain
Fortunately, I can do nothing
Fortunately, I have no where to hide
So I can embrace it when it comes
Because it comes.
And I can remember I said that
Remind me I knew it would hurt
And I can repeat those words again and again
But my heart, my poor little heart
Won't listen to me, the stubborn thing
And it will pain for you

And I'm afraid of you
I trust you more than anyone
And that's barely any trust at all
And I'm so afraid of what you'll do
Do it if it suits you then do it I don't care
It's your choice to make, we all make our own mistakes
So just choose something!
Fortunately, I can do nothing
So I can embrace it when it comes
It's just my heart, my poor little heart
It won't know why you chose good bye
And it will break in two

But I'm not afraid, not anymore
Because I've done every bit of this before
Life as I knew it turned on its side
And everything around me turned into a lie
Empty illusions make up the world
I grasp at empty thoughts, empty dreams, empty girls
And if you're the same, I'll walk through the pain
And I'll be strong, I can move on
I'll embrace it when it comes!
It's just my heart, my poor little heart
Will miss you each day, and call out your name
And it will wait for you

But I'm not afraid of what you'll do
Do it,
If it suits you then do it
But I do care.
I want you, your beautiful eyes and your sweet little lips
And the kisses, all the kisses and lot's and lot's of sex
Your sharp mind, your sense of humor, your talents
And especially your flaws
I want it, but I don't need it.
It's just... you know

So don't worry about me
I'd do anything to have you
But I can do nothing
I can only embrace it when it comes
And be strong, try to move on
So just make your decision
And with your incision
Take somebody's heart

Smile

Been a while since I updated so I decided to add this pos I wrote a couple months ago

You remind me that I can do nothing to make myself happy

Because nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile

And I can bleed, I can sweat, I can break my back and cry and crucify myself in the name of love

And it does nothing.

I can fly, hit the moon and break it open. I can challenge god for his seat in heaven and lose my revolution and sulk in hell with satan.

And it does nothing.

I can give away my riches to the poor and raise a garden out of hope and water and save the children from the cold and hunger

And end slavery and child prosititution and sweat shops and corporate scandals and executions and abortions and war and crime and of course pollution

And it does nothing

Then a butterfly flutters, flutters and lands upon your nose

Or something tickles, tickles at the bottom of your toes

And you smile

And I'm happy

And all the sweat and death and hope and pulp I've pumped, pumped into the world is worthless

And all the mistakes my mind is chained to, memories so painful that I wish I could be dead

They're worthless

As long as your smiling, smiling. For that moment I feel peace, like everything's okay. All the suffering I've suffered and the people the world peoples...

It's worthless

Smile

Every moment dies into the next

I'm going to try ripping out a poem right fast, I'll edit it later.

Every moment dies into the next
As a star died into me, I'll die into dust
As my cigarette dies into a butt
As the present dies into the present dies into the present dies into the present
Every moment dies into the next

Like melting glass or water freezing into ice
As the world grows wet and the wet world dries
Strangers die to lovers and love dies into hate
And lonliness to warmth to bitterness and scorn
And mountains into sandstorms and oceans into wastelands
Every moment dies into the next

And hopelessness to love and deserts into gardens
Rotting logs to mushrooms, flowers and worms
Eyes turn into tingles, and I begin to shiver
Lies turn into savage wars and everything that's different
I turn into nothing I could ever have predicted
Never knew the way these changes could have painfully tickled
Lost like a turtle left in low tide awaiting an easier life
In the sea

Old poems from high school

I found some work I did for High school and thought I should move it here.

If you

If you sell pieces of your humanity
Pass them off as your currency
And rap them up for the black market
While the world sulks in a crude casket

If your fame is airborne on blazing wings
Rocketed out to space leaving smoke rings
That linger on to masticate the ozone
While you live up and above all alone

If you make people tremble in fear
Of losing their families and all they hold dear
Enslaving villages with the army of Nike
And with your axe try to strike at their psyche

If you breed death in your giant factories
While sitting down and sipping Peach daiquiris
Acting like you never did nothing wrong
Paying your parrots to keep singing that song

If you regret nothing and enjoy every ounce
Of pain you have caused so you can trounce
Then remember this one sole simple line
You are an enemy of mine



For Tomorrow


Heaven is a struggle
A drop of your blood hitting pavement
A cramp from your shoulders burden
Its when, for a lifetime, you bite your lip
You try to ignore the pain, to keep going
You hold onto your hope
You keep your fist up
While torment haunts your every turn

Heaven is a place
A solitary grave in Nowhere
A giant globe on your back
Its when, for eternity, you are a pedestal
Even your corpse holds the position
You keep it mounted
Without your endurance
It would fall to the ground and shatter

Heaven is a sunset
Over a golden woods
From eyes of your children
They watch their precious, thriving forest
Where the birds sing and the rivers dance
Where life breathes through the very lips
That holds your kiss


Divine Fall

Every line was checked and doubled
Every hook pulled and tightened
My equipment will cause no trouble
And yet I am severely frightened
My bodys tension is not subtle
And my heart beat quickly heightens
I only hope I have the mettle
I only hope my nerve wont lighten

Eyes of mine watch the shadows
Graze upon the black abyss
Oh you sweet and gorgeous tableau
Oh you vixen, lay your kiss
May all my crude, blackened blood flow
May all my sounds be one queer hiss
May my true prideful spirit glow
And write its name upon Deaths list

Dive for treasure or for meaning
Fly for one last piece of hope
Dive forever and without reason
Fly so that I may float
Master fear and conquer treason
Of my bodys quaking coat
Lose the shackles, gain true freedom
Until the tension takes the rope

Not for now and never more
I will not end this at Ballade
It is my future I deplore
Oh Sir Time please send your nod
And freeze this place forevermore
Before my rope begins to prod
Please do not let me see the floor
Right now Im busy touching God

More poetry

I figured I'd transfer some more poems over

If we are the experiencers
Then is the experience just space and energy held in place by chemistry?
Is life created randomly through a cosmic happening when separate things act solidly through something called biology?

If a butterfly can make a violent sky half a world away
Because the currents it creates began to fluctuate and a hundred dozen cousins help to operate the oxygen and it begins to pull itself Becoming strung together consciousness
Then are there a billion little variables unknown to the narrators working underneath the scene to make everything we see
Transforming tears to tidal waves and smiles into new-born babes?

If one day a tree can cave over deceased in the forest but nobody's come around there that day to record it except for the ground that it found to absorb it
And the shrubs and the bugs who've all come to explore it
Then maybe the experience can take the reigns they call chaos so a billion little variables unknown to the narrators can work together as an army filling life with harmony

If we are nothing but a coupling in a melody
In a giant song that takes so long it's called eternity
Then a tree will look just like a tree until there's no one there to see a million billion subtleties that give us everything we need
And sometimes even what we dream

And then somehow it blows it, when we notice for a moment the universe might have a mind and a plan laid out of some kind
And we know we're in its company when we feel this thing we call beauty


----------

Why am I a fish?
As you look with confidence my eyes dart around with senselessness
As you lean forward for a kiss I just float there like a fish
As you blue my balls and lock my jaws and suck my lips and your spit drips I'm still frozen, frozen stiff

And you make me feel like my shell's peeled and convince me you can see my wings so completely thoroughly that I begin to see them, too
You'll still be gone before I learn to crawl and much more long before I learn to fly
Oh why! Why am I fish?

And maybe, somehow maybe I can pull a twist and play the angel that you say you're with
Maybe I can wear a mask painted of a man with class and we can pretend I'm something better off than this
But as I cling to broken memories of when we laid in each other's gravity it burns to think about reality, about what became our history
The story of the angel and the fish

And you dug me out from where I'm buried and eased me into all things scary and showed me I'm not the ugly bastard that I see
And I wish so bad that you'd return to me and my fists tremble thinking it's the end for me
I'm the fish that wrote a symphony of regret and all things left undone and all the ways I've lost respect
All replies left too late and a thick disguise I couldn't break and so I'd die to know for goodness sake
Why, oh why am I lurker of the lake?

Why couldn't I let passion be my guide and pull you close and under your surprise show you what it really means to give a kiss
Because I am just a fish. Why, oh why can't I be something better off than this?

Fuck Rush Limbaugh

Fuck Rush Limbaugh

Ode to Joaquin Phoenix

This is a work in progress, I'll edit it later

Please prepare your sorrow
A man has fallen from grace
He stopped watching his figure and the shag on his face
And so through a side of our mouths let us pray for his health
Pray for his sanity, his career and himself
Let's pray he stops doing the drugs and acting aloof
Let's pray he stops rapping, wearing glasses and being uncouth
Let's mourn the loss of the greatest guy to ever perform
There was no one better, you can't deny that
Along with Heath Ledger and of course Bernie Mac
And all of the names now robbed from their bodies
By desperate speakers seeking attention
Clinging to our heart strings to suck our affection
He is the sacrifice that feeds our addiction
We need him to prolong our empty distraction

Please, prepare your sorrow
A man has fallen from grace
Time to make tasteless jokes until the story is drained
For we are the crowd, with our many opinions
Our God is TV and we're such loyal minions
We worship the idols presented before us
A bunch of gorgeous, perfect performers
But when they do something that seems kind of normal
We dismiss their oddness with the shrugs of our shoulder
It's obvious to us, they turned to drugs and disorder
But not us! We decry as we stalk them like vultures
We're all doped up on popular culture

Fuck the Police

http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2008/7/31/102059/440/447/559938

This article is half a year old, but it still deserves mention. Along with Oscar Grant, and so many others, the brutality of the police is hitting its last straw. Cops should be fined for taking their weapons out when the suspect doesn't have a deadly weapon, themselves. It's just that simple, they obviously can't be trusted to use fire-arms, whether lethal or not. Apparently we need laws to protect us from the men and women charged to serve and protect us.

6 Philosophers with good advice on Happiness

I've heard people that consider philosophy to be a useless pursuit, but I think this stems from a misunderstanding of what philosophy is about. It's broken down to mean the love of knowledge, but I think in practice it's proved to be the pursuit of happiness. Not necessarily happiness itself, but a much more altruistic endeavor, the pursuit of how to be happy.

Understanding this theory, film-maker Alain de Bottom put together a very short 6 part series (each piece is 24 minutes long) that describes the ideas of renouned philosophers in a very modern, easily understandable way, and in doing so pursues a very simple concept; how does one find happiness? From Socrates to Nietzsche, each piece is full of easily accesible techniques and concepts to improve confidence, self-esteem, clarity and enjoyment.

Check it out: http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/philosophy-guide-to-happiness/

Truth that Bleeds

Seeing as how my computers have a tendency to get stolen, break, or get a virus (without me backing up my hard drive) I've taken to posting my poetry on the internet. I used to use the Myspace blog, but I've had my last straw with that stupid website and don't ever plan to use it again. I don't want to shift everything at once, but periodically I'll be taking poetry from there and submitting here.

This one is called "Truth that Bleeds"

Is there truth that still bleeds?
One heart that still beats?
One piece of art left unrated by the hollow iconographers
One sight not desecrated by a million blind photographers
Or a God not yet paraded by a million lined up followers
A drop of life left unsurrendered to the critics, tax and tacky vendors
And those pretty little prispers with their hateful little whispers
Where is there work not newly rendered by the modernist pretenders
To be glossed and painted over, hiding raw and naked lovers
Like the last leaf from December encased in glass to be remembered
Or a homemade family dinner that you can now have hand delivered
Where is there a cut without a band-aid or a laugh without a mandate
Where is there a man with all he needs as he watches himself breathe
Where is there truth that bleeds?

We see Jesus in our onion rings but barely remember our own dreams
The world begs for us to share it but we only listen to the parrots
We see magazine racks and candy bar shacks and coat hanger girls and modified squirrels
Children's tears from distant worlds are mixed in with our sweaters and shoes
We can't feed our babies our own milk, we cough out our air's residue
We keep bombs stored in our mountains and toxins in our fountains
And take pills to go to bed at night and pills to greet the morning light
Pray every day for a savior and then watch our actors play the heroes
All the while are collided by the prayers of those in need
But we only listen to our greed
Where is there truth that bleeds?

Where is art so real it looks like that dried piece of bacon left over from the night before
Or that photograph on the refridgerator at your mom's house from when you were four
Where is life so real you can feel its textures, instead of grazing over it like a another imperfection?
Where is life with light you can't describe, something you know nothing of, that you can't judge
Pureness with no name that won't be tamed by stupid words made up to capture the poetry for after
Something that will never be the same, the last of its kind like two old mens' laughter
Like the first smile of true lovers or the last wave good bye because nothing lasts forever
Like the last of its breed, the lonely, roaming warrior of an old, ancient creed
Where is there truth that bleeds?

Double-helix is just a Figment of some guy's acid trip

According to this article: http://www.serendipity.li/dmt/crick_lsd.htm the famous double-helix design used to depict the structure of DNA was nothing more than an LSD induced hallucination. Because entheogens have no value in human society other than forming fringe hippy cults, this obviously means the Double-Helix design is obsolete, and we should find a new image to demonstrate DNA. While we're at it, we should ban Alice in Wonderland, and anything made by Aldous Huxley.

To be clear, I don't think entheogens are the key to enlightenment, but they sure help the process by cutting away any unnecessary thought-patterns that inhibit the act of self-witnessing. Obviously habitual usage of anything, including entheogens, is detrimental, but I've found they were exactly the medicine my mind needed during profound moments of confusion in my life.

WTF is the Olympics doing?

Kelloggs was one thing, they're a private company and can do what they want with their spokespeople. Granted 90% of the people over 12 that eat pop-tarts and cheeze-its are stoners, but that's beside the point. Now I read that the 2012 olympic committee is banning Phelps from participating. What was once a respectable competition is quickly turning itself itself into a shameful masquerade by choosing to stand with petty, partisan ideology. I think Phelps serves as a symbol, forcing the the system to confront its anachronistic perspective on what is acceptable and what is intolerable. He will no doubt go down in history as one of the greatest athletes of this generation, and his controversy only catalyzes his fame.

It's obvious the olympic committee is attempting to curb the influence this may have had on our youth, that pot isn't outwright evil but may reside in shades more gray. Well, to clean the pond, first the shit must rise to the surface. Let their obsolete judgments on the plant reveal their unfounded absolutism over recreational substances as an impediment on the progress of mankind. I think their rash, immature behavior over this issue will only cause a deeper stigma against them, and perhaps even lighten the burden on pot.

I personally don't see weed as a positive endeavor for habitual usage. However, I think it's a marvelous gateway toward hallucinogenic exploration, which I highly recommend.

This is my blog

I write things in here! :)