Stay Up On Your Feet.

People say things easily.
Mostly, being insincere.
They strive to weasel into your life and prove something to themselves.
Something rotten and reminiscent of toxic spores. They aim to break the strength they see in you, to make the beautiful into the hideous.
They want to see you cry and beg.
They aim to show you new lows.
They aim to make you alone.
They aim to silently poison your table of knights one by one.
They feign love.
They indignify truth through their very existences.
These people want to be a victim, always; unable to endure what doesn’t fit into a pre-self-determined reality that’s far from being real.
People like this can’t (won’t/don’t) help themselves from being the epitome of protervity and narcissism.
It’s often quite easy to glimpse the actual pig’s (from the state of perpetual pig-headedness of such people) features at times, if you concentrate long enough on their’ faces.
These people are truly hopeless, and entangling yourself with one of them will inarguably take years off of your life.
People need to sleep at night (well, most people, at least) and throughout their’ lives, have honed the art of achieving said sleep by any and all means necessary.
It doesn’t matter who they have to steal from, lie to or cheat on.
Most people are either like puppets or puppeteers.
They can be dragged around by a string and made to do another’s bidding – to be the butt of another’s constant stream of jokes and gags and be kept in a box out of sight, some asshole’s means of venting his subliminal machinations; or they can be the one dragging the strings and throwing their’ voices, the people harboring silently forlorn grudges against all of humanity.
People who feel it necessary to repeatedly outline the purity and righteousness of the lives they lead might as well wear a t-shirt that reads:
“Hey. I’m a fucking Fatmouth. Don’t believe a word I tell you about myself. I’m worth more dead.”
These are the same people who know – deep down – that not a decent individual in the world holds any sentiment in his/her direction, not even mom or dad, usually. Grandma even disowned these people, even, in her own heart.
These are the people who vampire your cha-cha and exhaust you in totality.
Don’t let this brand of evil wash out your colors and make you feel like a faded version of yourself.
These are the people you exchange faked smiles with anytime you meet eachother.
Try to keep those meetings at a minimum.

If Only It Hurt To Be An Asshole.

So…I am plagued right now by several people in my life who seem to think that I am an idiot. I may not always say things in the moment, when someone is attempting to play me like a slot machine, I may not always even realize it at that point in time, but I will realize it. Trust that much. I can’t stand it when people are unable to own their own bullshit in life; much less when said people insist on trying to shift any blame or responsibility over such bullshit onto others when they get called on it.

I have my own bullshit and my own problems. I have my own issues to work on without other people constantly trying to force feed me the workload of their bullshit as well. People just don’t seem to comprehend how fucking stupid they look when they do this, as if I can’t do the math and see what they are doing, or trying to do. Do other people not see how low that takes them by behaving like a 2 year old? Do other people actually think that these pathetic and constant attempts at deflecting the TRUTH will somehow carry them through life? Without losing everyone who might have really cared about them?

It would just be really nice if other people could own their shit, even once in a while. It’s really old being mostly surrounded by people who always want to shift blame and try to make me accountable for shit that has NOTHING to do with me. If only it hurt to be an asshole, maybe people would find a way to check themselves.

Who’s Winning?

“…love was as hardwired into the structure of the universe as gravity and matter.”
– Dan Simmons, The Rise of Endymion

one-ocean

For my own contribution to the pretentiousness of celebrating Saint Beheaded for my Defiance of a Medieval Catholic Pope’s Marriage LawsValentine’s Day, I wanted to simply share my own notions behind LOVE and the definition that I personally carry of it; for anyone who may be interested…
Love is not knowing, but jumping in anyway.
Love is the feeling of stitches dissolving in your skin.
Love is the smile of an innocent child in the grips of wonder.
Love is a giant, canine bearing sea-lion being afraid of you.
Love is sunshine.
Love is an all-encompassing acceptance that changes your DNA.
Love is hoping against all logic or reason.
Love is being the first face to come into view, every time.
Love can be tangible.
Love can be fickle.
Love can bring us to our knees, in many different variances.
Love will NEVER leave us alone.
Love is darkness.
Love is light.
Love is the answer as well as the question in languages that humanity does not yet speak.
Love may be a language that humanity as we know it never learns.
Love was the mother of all Hatred.
Love is the force behind all of it, everything.
Love bore Mother Earth, the Sun, and every star.
Love is God. God is a Goddess. The Goddess falls back in Love.
Love can conquer all.
Love doesn’t necessarily want to conquer all.
And lastly,
When I didn’t love Love, it loved Me, Anyway.

The Midway.

I don’t pretend to know,

which dagger of mine to throw,

you know, I’ve built up an arsenal,

the ubiquitous, carnivorous carnival;

 

the sound of a broke-down calliope,

worn through that last shred of sanity,

drawn to the worst magnetically,

out of the huge crowd of humanity;

 

but before you sink your fangs into,

such a back-stabber’s dream-come-true,

help me decide which blade best suits you,

to wear forever as defensive scar wounds.

First Boyfriend.

Maybe someday it will all, indeed,

come to reconcile with my dark reality,

they’ll fill in the gaps til it seems complete,

they’ll sugar the facts with the dishonesty,

~

This is what’s left of your treasured U.S.M.C.,

you’ve been told to hold for the simplest of things,

they don’t care enough to remember your first name,

or how you fair alone out here: a veteran Marine,

~

it breaks my heart to know you can’t get into therapy,

there will be some issue with your healthcare policy,

they don’t care that you can’t hear against a constant ring,

deep inside both ears from the years of your tank-gun firing,

~

so now, you’re home and you feel sad and alone indefinitely,

and your buddies are silently going through it similarly,

you’ve built a wall up higher than I could’ve possibly conceived,

the word ‘deployment’ still haunts me with my worst memories.

~

Carcass – A Haiku in Four Stanzas.

Void are the words spat,

from the mouths of the elite;

ugliness in speech.

Green is the standpoint,

of pseudo-democracy;

liberties gone weak.

Lost is a future,

Trumped  fading reason,

A carcass for a hairpiece;

“Make it great again”.

Political filth,

Spread amid such poverty;

Serves not a purpose.

Step off the soapbox,

Nobody wants to get clean;

Lathered in those suds.

Injustice and Anxiety.

Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.

— Arthur Somers Roche

Injustice alone can shake down the pillars of the skies, and restore the reign of Chaos and Night.

— Horace Mann

America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.

— Abraham Lincoln

Soup.

Fuck doing what’s right to do
might have to confront the truth
and you may actually
at last, and finally
have to step up and pay your dues
every single bridge
burned down to a crisp
take the drama and dishonesty
as far as you can get from me
I can’t function like this
there you have stood silently by
done your part to take what’s mine
when all is done
and you have no one
don’t come crying to me this time
you’ve helped to construct
a place that is fucked
from wall to wall
trumping any and all
good in the things you should touch
Fuck staying in this primordial soup
this fucking unhealthy familial loop
when I am no more
around like before
who will catch your boot?
Always choose to color me wrong
over and over until the color was gone
but you can’t tell me what is right
you wouldn’t recognize the sight
pull your blade from my back and move along.

Valentine’s Day, Again.

VD-35

So…I know that I historically lose a few followers every year for my opinions surrounding this stupid-ass “holiday“; and no, nothing’s changed.

I still think it is a pathetic show of disregard for HISTORICAL TRUTH/ACCURACY put forth especially well by my very own country men and women. It continues to be a bad representation on a humanitarian level, the very concept of it is still lacking in scruples, and the fact that so many people take it so seriously is truly disturbing to me.

In any case, because everyone insists on celebrating this warped and poorly evolved “holiday“, even now – after all this time, I say let’s celebrate it the right fucking way, at least.

Saint V was executed by the Pope for refusing to fall in line with notions that he disagreed with on a fundamental level of his own spirituality and individual relationship with God. This man went to a horrible death for what he believed to be that God’s will, in contrast to the over-imposing standard of the Vatican of his era. Modern day human beings are inarguably a shallow lot then, aren’t we? We are certainly shallow and self-absorbed enough to enable and foster the perpetuation of such an all-around bullshit “holiday” on our calendars; shallow enough to desire such a day for ourselves every year; shallow enough to be spending money on sweets and jewelry, eating over-priced candle-lit dinners, and essentially shitting all over the barbaric TRUTH behind the origins of why this date is considered to be historically notable. Such a hideously shameful display it all is; and so disrespectful to the dead guy who gave this “holiday” it’s name…but, that’s just my opinion.

This Year.

This year’s irony
Oh twenty fifteen
Has played itself out
Like an old guitar string.

This year’s misery
Been weighing heavily
Been transforming all
And ruining everything.

This year’s changes
Make it quite hard for me
To look up the road
And see any good thing.

This year’s reality
A bullet through each knee
And nothing has successfully
Stopped the bleeding.

This year’s finality
I can’t help but to perceive
As if the tolling of a new year
Will bring an end to me.

Next year’s poetry
will have a different ring
Words to precious legacy
Or some other stupid thing.

Missile-Toed.

missile1As intriguing as the concept of quantum String Theory has always been to my hungry brain, I admit that the principles behind it mean little to me.
Space, in all of its profound glory, has remained much the same throughout life for me: The science-fictionesque backdrop belonging on Star Trek, a mystical and elusive place relative to scientific calculations and mathematical equations that I will NEVER understand in the slightest, creatures that do not look nor behave the way that our own species does (due to some bio-genetic adaptation needed to survive in the vacuum), and an underlying sense of feelings very close to unease and discomfort.
I went to see The Empire Strikes Back in the theater with my Dad, brothers and Papa when it first came out…I was awed and amazed by the various species included – and, it was sometime around then that I became infatuated with finding and kidnapping my own Ewok. The first time I saw 2010 Odyssey, I didn’t sleep for nights afterward…it was upsetting and unfamiliar all the way around. Since those early and wondrous days of life, I have become a “Sky-Watcher”. I am not the type of sky-watcher who owns a high-end telescope or anything fancy like that though; I am simply an observer who cannot keep my eyes from the night skies anytime I am beneath them. I have self-taught myself about the star systems and the solar system on a very generalized scale in order to understand things best I can; and, have grown up to grasp a very basic understanding of the “final frontier”.
In all of my years keeping watch on the stars that twinkle overhead while I smoke outside (usually with a good portion of my attentions directed only at the sky), I have only seen two incidents that I was not able to a sound scientific explanation for, afterward. The first time was two summers ago, towards the end of the season, when I was stricken by a very colorful strobe flashing from high the Easterly sky – very far away and high above any aircraft that passed while I watched. This strobe emitted four very distinctive colored lights in sequence of red – orange- green – blue repeatedly and seemed to be moving in an unnatural way. When I say “moving”, what I mean is that this “star” appeared to be centered on a bungee string that was being pulled from both ends on either side of it creating sorts of very rapid but short jolting motions, while staying mostly in the same general vicinity. I freaked out and called my former roommate to see, by whom my perception was re-affirmed and seconded. I never was able to find any reasonable answer for what we saw that night; although, NASA’s official reply to my inquiry (and I shit you not) was that it is an anomaly known as a “fireball”. As if such a label should have out all of worries to rest, somehow…
The second thing…the much more disturbing and unsettling thing I have witnessed happened last night, as I was walking to my car from my house. I saw in my peripheral, a large streak of what I assumed was cloud cover daubing the sky just to the south of me; but the size and general shape of it caused my brain to need a better a look. The instant that I shifted my full focus onto the streak, it was set ablaze with the brightest and most concentrated light I have ever seen in my entire life; the streak of what I had taken to be clouds suddenly became bathed in this luminous glow, and was connected directly to something that was silently streaming upward in a massive arc. I watched with my mouth dropped open as this cylinder of pure light/smoke/cloud/dust grew longer as the attached object made its trajectory, before it eventually positioned itself in line with the lower and twinkling stars midst the cloud cover. I stood there and watched it; it didn’t explode, it didn’t fall down, it just hung there like some far-future science project:

“Now, here’s how you hang your very own star in the sky, children…”

The shit was skin-chilling. I shrugged and got in my car to go to the store then. When I got out onto the street, everyone was pulled over to the sides of the road as if we had just been hit by an earthquake or something.
This morning, NASA is hard at work with the “California Missile Testing” story; something that they claim is a totally normal and common happenstance here around the valley. My question is: if it’s such a regular occurrence and it happens so often, why did it make any Californian who saw it pee themselves?

Insecurities.

Today’s mega-extra-jumbo scoop of unnecessary bullshit in my corner of the currently wretched Universe might have been a doozy…had I not had my catcher’s mitt up on the air, with my eye on the ball. It has nothing to do with my specific characteristic traits or preferences, that once a person burns me, although I may very well come to genuinely understand and excuse that person’s indiscretion in burning me, such things never stray far from mind in future close-quarter (metaphoric for emotional closeness in this instance) dealings with that person. It is just a natural response in a procession of inter-actions between two creatures to (even subconsciously) be on your guard after suffering an inflicted wound once before – even if you want with all of your heart to wipe the slate clean, it’s in there somewhere: the experience of being burned, the one who burned you, included.

So recently, during the present state of absolute tragedy that I am under-going on an emotional level, a friend who pulled the ol’ Light Switch Maneuver on me a few months ago contacted me and apologized. I accepted the apology without hesitation, as I have truly missed this person’s presence since he blinked out from my life. And I harbored no grudge against him as I understand his abandonment issues all too well; I can relate to his insecurities with others and becoming close or emotionally attached, trust me. For these reasons, I had hoped he would re-surface eventually and we could be friends again. His timing was well-intended, I’m sure…however – –  – I am currently experiencing a spell of total apathy and disinterest in anything and everything I see or think or feel. I am numb in order to survive emotionally at this very point in time; and that is the reality of reality for me right now.

So, after various times of reaching out and prompting conversation with me (whereas before, I would typically carry on to no end with this person and have plenty to say about anything he talked about), and my not being very responsive because I have very little to say about ANYTHING at the moment, causes this person to deconstruct my character once again in his own mind, for whatever reasons….uhhhhhhhh……okay.

So in turn for my being in emotional shock, and being currently unresponsive to this person’s recent attempts at conversation, I became the effect to the cause behind this person’s own insecurities;

it went from:

YESTERDAY EVENING:

“I’m here for you anytime…”

TO…THIS EVENING:

“Take care…I’ll do you the favor of deleting contact info…”

I’m not arguing with it this time, not a word…I’m too fucking UNSURPRISED by it to even thank this person for doing me the favor of inflicting the second burn so soon. WTF Ever. Nothing I can do about things I’ve not done.

Turning-a-Systemic-City-into-Fire-Scenery-L

Soup.

Fuck doing what’s right to do
might have to confront the truth
and you may actually
at last, and finally
have to step up and pay your dues
every single bridge
burned down to a crisp
take the drama and dishonesty
as far as you can get from me
I can’t function like this
there you have stood silently by
done your parts to take what’s mine
when all is done
and you have no one
don’t come crying to me this time
you’ve helped to construct
an existence that is fucked
from wall to wall
and trumping any and all
good in the things you should touch
Fuck staying in this primordial soup
this fucking unhealthy familial loop
when I am no more
around like before
who then, will catch your boot?
Always chose to color me wrong
over and over until the color was gone
but you can’t tell me what is right
you wouldn’t even feel its bite
pull your knife from my back and walk on.

“Be fucked”.

“Be Fucked.”    – Calamity Jane


I received a package containing all of my daughter’s school papers, notebooks and any other miscellaneous documents that she collected over the years of her incarcerated teenaged life. I have had possession of the box for almost a month now and only opened it the other day because my mother was seeking out a particular photo that she assured me was inside.

mock my painI have avoided opening this box and exposing myself to the mess of utter bullshit that it encloses, as I know that there is very little about her persona that is her own; the lies that she cultivates and maintains regarding her real life events and the real family associated with them. It’s been a few years now that I’ve had to digest the fact that my only child is a compulsive liar who seems incapable of telling even simple truths in the most casual of contexts.

I can imagine what it must feel like for the mother of a serial killer or a fucking terrorist who has been identified and detained before the world to see: the inconsolable shame and regret, bewilderment and lack of any ability to relate to the actions of one’s own offspring – much less: be able to account for any of those actions as the mother of the creature in question…I don’t need to imagine what it feels like to go through the later part of one’s life in absolute shock and faltering denial pertaining to the finally produced grown-up version of what was once her child; the child she never understood or related to, the child that boggled her mind and trampled her heart in the long run.

be fuckedBut yeah, my good ol’ mom insisted on sending me to swim with the jellyfish yesterday, and asked me to look for the photo in the box…and…

Was I surprised by the horse-shit chronicles that I found inside?

Hell no.

Does it hurt my very core to its hollows upon being reminded how very fucked up my kid is as a human creature, to be able to put such miserable dishonesty in writing?

Hell yes it does, every time…to read such disillusion in her own words always stings and burns like it was the first time reading it.

Yes, the box is chock-full of lies and delusions in written form; horribly non-believable versions of her life story that paint not only me – but my parents as well – as warped, mutilated and fabricated versions of ourselves to fit the varying purposes such documents were meant to serve. These constructs of penned deceit written by the hand of my only child are not something I take lightly – on any level; as they have come to serve as written proof in my mind that my child has been lost to me and my family for a long, long time already. And, somehow – as crazy and unhealthy as this may come across to my readers, to be reminded of exactly the depths of character incessantly displayed by her at the cost of her own family – the only people who have ever given two real fucks about her – is a comfort to me now; as I have no idea whether she is dead or alive, anyway.

Buried.

It was just last week,
he claimed “now, more than before”…
that his heart stood true.

In reality,
there’s me, and at least one more…
what am I to do?

Unsurprisingly,
all the drama is a bore…
unbecoming, too.

So don’t tread on me,
you are not a King, anymore…
I’d have followed you.

It hurts me to think,
of the dreams of mine and yours…
buried in our youth.

Now – decidedly,
it’s time to let those dreams go…
and sleep with the truth.