Wednesday, January 30, 2008

untitled

I walk the night with my dark clothes reflecting no light.
Walking and looking down to see no night.
My rubber soles leave no imprint on the cold cement road.
I walk and ponder the strange questions of life.
Death is the ultimate destination of life.
My feet that walk the earth will someday be,
but a faint memory to the earth underneath this cold cement road.
The past that once was will never return again.
Only but a shadow that remains illuminating the path that I now walk on.
Seeing nothing ahead, but more of that cold cement road.
My light is out and I am no more.

Waiting for Revelations

Triumphantly we march ahead of time trying to minimize the rhythmic flow of life. As if the dawn had a new light. I tell you to fight. The endless persecution of the stars and heavens will soon merge in front of you. You the people and civilians of this war that will put you in the front lines. What will you do fight or flight. The departed become the enemy of the battle that will cease when He comes without warning. Ancient civilizations that will soon be the destiny of all of us. To be extinct and seemingly breathing. The pedestrians that walk the cross light will halt to a stop mid stride in order to see the blatantly obvious light. The clouds will part and you will see the sky at the glory that it deserves to be seen. The long for muted voice will speak the words of peace and a future to come. Then it will disappear as quick as it came to leave mankind in its miserable state. But we will rebuild and remember the prophecy of the voice that seemed so far away. We will remember it until we forget. The glory of the one above is only seen by those who wish to suffer the blindness from the light. To see in the dark we shall forever be. Night creatures that walk the earth looking and craving for the light that will someday bring about hope of a new future to come. A peaceful rebellion that is to shape the face of the world will take place and we will see the true potential of who we are. This is what we are destined to be, creatures of peace and happiness. Somewhere along the way we have lost our way. A new dawn that is to come will bring about the true nature of what nature intended man to be.
End.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Atlas

Like Atlas I stand here bearing the burden of the world on my shoulders. As if I knew the only joy was to carry the giant burden that propels me forward. The giants that try to sway me from my path are only those that are small enough not to see. The light that shines through the brick of stones is what I see. I am the conductor that rides the train that runs a muck. Atlas son of pain and bearing the torture of the world. See the light that shines through the seemingly endless eyes of human poison. I know the feeling my dear friend Atlas. Let us both see and hear the things that we bear on our shoulders. The world is big, but not too big to bear. The burden that we hold up so dear to us is what will set us apart. Atlas how you are remembered my dear friend. How strong you must be. To hear the mockery of the world and stand up for it. Let us never fall into the abyss that you hold us from. To bear the burden of the world is a task that we are destined to fill. Destroy the evil of those that seek the good of mankind. For they are the light of the world that fill the void that many seek to find. The endless war we fight and loose will be worth remembering.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

What happens when we die?

Seeing that perhaps the illusion of mankind lies in ones own reality, who is to determine the rightful truth of anything? What happens to us when we die? Close your eyes for a brief moment and see the darkness before you. If in a sense we see only in according to what our own eyes are able to grasp, what happens when we shall forever close them? Dreaming is of course done with our eyes closed, so would it be fair to speculate that when we die we would forever be in a state of dreaming. But can one dream or even think without a living brain? Does the core of humanity lie in the heart or in the mind? When one is heartbroken does one not feel it in the chest and not in the brain? Or does it register in the brain and then it translates to the heart? A blow to the heart means instant death, but a blow to the brain has a chance of survival. So what does occur when we shall forever close our eyes? Do we cross over to a Utopian society where everybody is joyous and merry? What happens if a loved one on earth didn't get through the so called "Gates of Heaven"? Would you be joyous and merry knowing that you will have to go through eternity not seeing the ones who didn't "get in"? Is hell like our judicial system? What if we are already in hell trying to work our way up to heaven? Why is heaven considered to be in a higher plane, rather than a lower one? Why must we always put things that are superior in a higher place? Does one not find life lessons in watching an ant trail? Does one not find the most meaning in a simple act as sharing a meal with a loved one? I say that what is above is to be left for the birds. Its nothing but clouds and twinkling white dots. If you are looking for God, look right next to you. Stop praying to the ceiling and begin to connect to what is directly around you. To pray means nothing. To act is everything. So what happens to us when we die? It is hard to take in that perhaps all that happens is that we die. We cease to exist. So if this be true, why waste your life? Forget the saying that perhaps tomorrow you will die. Someday perhaps we will cease to exist. Whatever you choose to do with your life, make sure its what you want to do with it. Never live it to please others, and never settle for anything less than what you deserve. Someday we will all die. Make the most of it.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

A Humble Ballad- - By a "nice guy"

Something eats me today. It's been eating me for some time now, but today it threatens to swallow me whole. I feel like I give too much of my soul to the ones I truly love, but never seem to get the same love in return. It's like playing a game of tennis with no one. I keep hitting the ball, but it never gets returned. I feel like a dumb child who has burned his hand on the stove, but yet reaches for it once more. No more reaching. It hurts to burn the same wound that has not yet healed. Now I feel stuck. I want to search out for the one that truly deserves me, but I don't want to get burned again. I don't really want to give my all to anyone anymore. It's too much. People take it for granted, as if I will always be here for them. They could of had me forever. I feel like people always look past me. I'm considered to be a nice guy, but what does that get me? A pat in the back and a slap to the face. Jerks get the nice girls. My loyalty always brings about betrayal, but I stay loyal like a dumb dog guarding the master that beats him. Maybe someday the tides will change. Someday--but not today.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Soon is Not So Far Away

The ideals of the realist are just as valid as the ideals of the idealist. Is there such thing as realism? What is real? Reality is what we make of it, so essentially we are all idealist. Why is the world divided over perspective? As if one's perspective should be enforced upon others. How do we learn anything from that mentality? As if certain cultures are far more superior than others. Where do we get the confidence to think this way? There is going to be a time when this country is going to need the aid of those who they have tried to manipulate. Its a small world. The value of the dollar is declining and banks are having a hard time staying afloat. Credit card companies are loosing billions of dollars because our people are having a hard time paying the bills. A future in which our Government will rely on the generosity of those who they have oppressed is close at hand. This great empire is declining behind the smoke and mirrors of war and politics. The economy is hurting. Soon we will all be brothers. The classes will merge to form one. To have one voice. A voice that will speak of a revolution of perspective. Enjoy the time we have being the king of the hill. Soon it won't be this way. We will give way to another imperialistic empire that will try to learn from our mistakes, but will make them again. We will be the ones oppressed and manipulated. There is only one solution. When you go to the polls to vote for a puppet, make sure you vote for the one who has the least amount of strings. These strings, sowed in by the corporate giants, are the downfall of our country. They are never pulled in favor of the people. Perhaps there is hope for us. Pray your prayers and pray that this day will never come.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The Homeless Man

There was a time when everything seemed so fine. So great to just laugh and play. As we grow we tend to forget those beautiful days that once filled our days. We grow up and have to take on responsibilities. The mere thought of the word makes me sick. I wish this was all a game. Maybe someday it will be. So many of us walk the earth hating the lives we live. Work is hard, relationships are strange, and the world has no pity on the weak. The homeless man who sits by the road is considered a conman. One who pretends he is poor, but secretly he lives a life of luxury. What a ridiculous concept we trick our minds into thinking. As if he fabricated his own stench, his empty gums where teeth should be is a mere illusion, and his clothes are no more than a costume. This is the truth we like to believe so that we don't feel bad when we can't cough up a dollar. A dollar. How hard must times be when one has to take the time to rationalize not spending a dollar on a man who clearly needs help. Write them off as crazy, but even the insane need nourishment. They brought it on themselves you say? Is the world so unkind that certain people get chances and some are neglected? Don't get too close for whatever ails them might ail you. Yes and leprosy is also contagious. Perhaps what you wish not to see is the truth. This country houses mass quantities of insane, deranged, contagious, and filthy human beings. The rest are left on the streets.

In a Moment of Self Indulgence I Wrote:

How easily you forget me. How easily you push me aside for another. Talks of forever never last. I thought I knew you--I thought I understood you. The wonderful times we had together are now in the past. Sometimes I wish I could go back to those times. Or if I could somehow tell myself to cherish every moment that I had with you, we probably wouldn't of fought as much. I miss you. There was a time when you used to be my world--my everything. Now it seems as if we are worlds apart. How have you been? What have you been up too? These seemingly insignificant questions I wish to ask--thats all. I know you've found another and thats OK. Although I miss you, I do not want you back. I have grown more than you know. Perhaps now you probably won't recognize me. The face is the same, but my eyes can see further. I hope you are doing fine. I only wish you would call--thats all.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Fifty Nine Deaths from Heartbreak Alone this Year

Fifty nine deaths this year alone from heartbreak. The year is young as young as love is. How easy we forget those we loved. How fast we move along. Zip through the music as if you hadn't heard it. Dance to the tune of your heart beating, until it breaks. A pause in the step of a step not worth taking. Fifty nine deaths from heartbreak and counting. One by one we all go down, until eventually we find those who are meant to be found. Then what? The independence you once had is completely gone and the stacks of compromised ideals begin to stack up. Then, once you feel you've had enough, it's not so easy to break up. Break up the heart that was one made whole by the person you wish to leave. But you must leave because the world misses you. All this time you were in love, the world kept spinning and moving along. You wake up and realize that this perhaps was a waste of time, but you wouldn't dare think that twice. No regrets. So where to go from here? See, fifty nine deaths from heartbreak alone this year.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Roses

Rose full of thorns and passion you are. Hide and seek you play with fear of emotion to come. Leave some room and leave some space-- headache and stomachache. The body and mind are so attached to the surrealism that is our reality. Ponder what you may or may not may. Who is to say what reality is? It's a mere illusion to say the least. It's what we make of it--what we think of it. Grow your thorns, but leave some space. Growing too many thorns will poke the beautiful pedals that you have. Self-defense and protection is a must in a world that one wishes to abide by. This is fine, don't be scared of becoming numb and full of hate. Just as in autumn and winter your leaves leave, spring is soon around the corner, to mend your wounds and weave that beautiful web that is the leaf that once left in order to grow again--and the cycle continues like clockwork. Never missing a beat. Dream the beautiful dream that you dream so dreamingly. Don't be afraid of it. Ideals and realism are one. They are not two separate entities. What we create in our world is based on fiction not fact. What is a fact, but a mere illusion of confusion that we deem so correct. Do the math, numbers don't lie because we deem it so. Question the endless questions and never get results in terms of how you expect it, but the mere act of questioning will allow you to gain new perspective. Grow your thorns, but leave some space--back to the matter in question. Many enter and many leave. It is those that stay that you are to keep. Some cope and some fold. It is not you who made them fold, but rather the hand that was dealt to them. Blaming yourself for things that you have no control of is like blaming God for the chaos in the world. Some things run amok like a derailed train. You are the destination. The tracks, their destiny. Be easy and be kind to the self that should let go and unwind. Masochism masochism masochism. To be melancholy is fun to some and tedious to none. Relax, breath, everything will be fine.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Comrade

Where do you come from who fills my mind with idiosyncrasy of idiomatrics? Did that make sense? I bet it did to you. The reader of this blog, the one who this is for. In short, no pun intended, I will summarize my words so that they may be vague to some, but specific to you. Who knows what to say that may or may not evade the truth of the matter is how smart you are. But not tallied in books as you like to dust off occasionally, but rather in truth. Revolutionaries from birth we walk the earth as if anything and everything needs to change. Enormous life you have in such a small frame. My path came across yours, but who can miss it. The enormous light that shines from it gives sight to the blind and blinds those who refuse to see it. Masochism masochism masochism. Enjoying the blog eh? Fill my eyes with sight, soon I must go for a flight. Only because of you. What would I do without you? Friend of mine. You came at the right time. Say what you must of your selfish self, and your vanity, or your sexuality. Lies I say. Pick up a leaf, examine it, all in a days play. What a lovely creature God has made. What joy he must have had designing you. The ears and nose probably made him laugh and your big calves probably could have been cut down to half. Joking my dear. I love your self. Your entire self. I say self because it also implies me. As you see sometimes I feel you are me. The good me. The fun me. Chao pescao'

-Perro Caliente


Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Piece by Piece- - Thought by Thought

A piece of me leaves every time I say goodbye. A piece of me stays every time I am afraid. The seemingly pieces of me that seem not so easy to see are the ones that want to be seen-- but are so afraid to show themselves to the world. These fragile seemingly insignificant pieces of me, are the ones that hold the secret to me-- but no one sees. Forever and ever I can show you what you want to see of me. The seemingly blatantly obvious me. But these hidden pieces of me you will not find, for I will hide. Hide and hide and hide until perhaps one day, someday, along the way, someone might stumble across me. "Oh the day that someone along the way might find me"-- I pray. So I wait and I pray--wait and pray. Perhaps someday, tomorrow lets say, someone might find me along the way.

¿Truth Riddle?

Dreams become a reality when you stop believing in dreaming. The truth that hides behind the light that blinds you to see the truth of the matter. So be it. What do they know of it? The man upstairs who never shows his face. So be it. Alone at last and forever we where from the dawn of time. Space is infinite and time is limited, try to figure that one out. The stars that we see in the sky might be already dead, but we can't tell from down here, as if we are blind to the fact--but we still see the light. Try to figure that one out. Or this: The government who spends millions on welfare, but refuses to acknowledge the true fact of poverty. We are poor because they are rich. Keep the people from thinking and keep them guessing. Bend the truth and cover it. Advertisement is just a tool for their constant manipulation. The conservation of our environment is unprofitable unless it is commercialized and sold for profit. Organic consumption used to be a normality now it's a luxury. Water is free as it always should be. Bottle it, label it, build a corporation around it. Everything seems to be made in China. Apparently Communism is more productive than Capitalism. True Communism can never exist. The drive of man, the hunger for power, and the desire for more will always prevent it. Capitalism will crumble and the value of the dollar subsiding. European countries cheering. Its their turn now. They get to have all the pleasure of slowly declining as all great empires have. Just like the Romans. Why is it that we never learn? As if history never repeats itself. Be weary of the future to come. Read your history and you will understand. The past is our future, and the present is at hand.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

So be it

My soul feels empty. My passion subsisting. Where to go from here? I have no one to turn too. No one that understands me. For the first time I feel alone, completely alone. I feel like running away, going away, far far away. To places where no one can find me. Then one day I will triumphantly emerge as a different person. I sit and wait for that day to come. Sit and wait--sit and wait. It takes too much effort to be outgoing. I try to make things happen and it blows up in my face. People always seem to misunderstand me. My intentions they find malicious, as if I am always up to something. I have come to realize that everybody leaves, no matter what the matter, everybody leaves. No point in ever getting close to anyone. It hurts more if I do. I grow and I learn. I sit and I wait. I grow sitting, waiting to learn, observing, and sometimes interacting. Sometimes will now turn into rarely. I'm done reaching out to others. Your arm always gets cut off mid way. I had two arms, now I have none. I'd like to keep walking, running, sprinting. Its hard to walk with no arms. I hope someday I can have them back. No more reaching for love. No more pursuit of it.
People think I am weak. I think the exact opposite. My strength is feeling too much. So many of us grow numb from feeling. They think this is strength. I say this is weakness. We feel because we live.
I had somebody I thought. Now I know I have nobody. So be it.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

A Wise Old Boy

There was a boy long ago who believed in the power of superstition. He lived his life on eggshells scared of this scared of that. He wore the same underwear every morning and washed them every night. He slept with his light on in fear that someday something might take him away. He set his alarm clock every night at 8:13am and turned it off after he snoozed it three times. This cycle continued everyday and every night and on and on and on. Until he finally realized this:
"My life consists of a cycle that until this day has proven to be effective. Today is different. I am old, no longer a boy. I have found nothing new. I have lived my life in fear of change and thus I have not grown. The people around me have changed and I have remained the same. I have not adjusted to the times and have refused to modernize. I have refused to reinvent myself, and I have become old much too early. Although I think its not too late, I wish to change."
The next day when he awoke he didn't bother hearing the alarm. He wore no underwear, in fact he wore no clothes at all. He walked into the street and yelled "I am free! I am free!!".

Sometimes...

I see the world for what it could be. Sometimes I fall into the trap of living in it. I hate it when reality sets in. Things sometimes just don't work out how one expects them too. The world is unfair, its unjust. But we must keep on living. Keep on striving to achieve the things that someday will be realized. One must have faith that this realization will someday happen. Why do I keep writing blogs? There is so much that I've needed to express lately. So much that I've needed to say. I'm tired of living the earth and walking quietly. I have observed for far too long. How to begin? How to start this massive plan in my head? Sometimes I fall asleep tired thinking about it. Disillusionment sets in and I try to forget. Forget the things that haunt my mind. The things that I see that others refuse too. I grow old and numb--bitter and angry. This is not the person I wish to be. Sometimes I walk with blindfolds on. My sight causes me to see things that leave me depressed and thoughtful. Sometimes I wish to stop thinking, to not see, to not hear, to be numb. Sometimes I pray, sometimes I hate the thought of it.

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Sabio the Clown

Sabio the clown lived an interesting life. The traveling circus that he was apart off was a very popular one. In fact he was one of the main attractions. Sabio lived the life that many clowns had wished they did. There was only one problem--he was a clown. No matter how many people he made laugh no matter how many people he entertained, at the end of the day all he was was just a clown. Nobody ever took him seriously. "One day I will show them, show them all" he said as he stared at himself in the mirror. In the next show his cue came on to go on stage and for the first time with his costume and all he spoke, and this is what he said:
"You laugh at me because you thing I am funny. You cry not from sadness, but from laughter. You come here to escape the torments that have driven you here, and for a brief moment you are able to laugh. This service I provide to you out of love. My payment is measured in the volume of your voices. I have never asked for anything in return, but today...today I will only ask for one thing. When you leave this tent leave with knowing you have heard. You have seen me speak. You have witnessed my passion. I ask that you too have the courage to show yourself. Your true self. The self that lies behind the mask. The self that doesn't conform to what other people see you as, or expect you to be. I stand here before you as a clown, but what you have witnessed is something different. Something that most are scared to be. So many sitting before me have settled, have conformed to what society deems them to be. A politician can be a humanitarian. An environmentalist can be a butcher. Never settle for what society deems correct. What is true is only created by a general consensus. So many of us fall into the trap of following rules and regulations, that we forget why they are placed there in the first place. To be controlled. To be manipulated. To function in a society that benefits those that we can't see. Those that will destroy your world in light that theirs might stay intact. You come here to escape from there. I tell you go back and deal with the mess you've made. The mess we've created. Its not too late. Go!"
At this instance Sabio disappeared. Nobody knows for certain what happened to him. Till this day people try to forget what they were told. They still attend the circus and try to forget the time when a clown spoke.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

A Conversation with a Priest

I took a stroll down the street and found a church. I approached the priest and asked him his advice on love. He smiled and said that he was afraid that he was of no use in talks of love. He told me that he would be much better on talks of scripture. I was disappointed with his answer. Surely there must be someone I can talk to. Someone new someone different. Someone with a new perspective on the matter. I pried and tried once more to ask him about love. He must have fallen in love too once--I thought. He stared into space for a while, and when he came back he said:
"Once, a while back when I was about your age there was this girl. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her. I adored her. She adored me. I Asked her to be mine and she denied me. I asked her why and she had no answer, no reply. Simply that it couldn't be so. We were too alike her and I. My stubbornness got the best of me and I asked her out again and again and again. She denied me all when I asked for nothing. This is the way the world works my son. She later married another man and I joined the seminary. I vowed never to love again."

Just as quick as we started talking we stopped. As I walked away from the church I came to the thought that perhaps the world is unfair. Poor priest, poor man. He found God because he was running away from love. I heard the sadness in his tone. I saw the hurt in his footsteps. I must be careful not to fall into the trap of falling in love. Or when I do I must be sure that she will take me. Its no use trying for love. Love is love. When it works it works, when it doesn't it doesn't. You can't make love work, It just happens. Someday perhaps I will stop falling in love and perhaps they will fall in love with me. One could only pray--like the priest.

IL Telefono è il Mio Amore

I watch my phone with intend to use it.
I watch it in hopes that one might call.
I see it
I stare at it.
I wait.
Ring dear friend.
Pause.
I thought the phone rang.

Loneliness is my faithful companion.
We've gotten quite close.
He gets jealous when I go out.
He hates it when my phone rings.
He fills my mind with thoughts
Thoughts that feed my desolate mood.
I wish to be left alone from loneliness
I wish my phone would ring

Uma Balada do Pobre

The rich and the poor
Run amuck,
While we watch.
Homeless people starving.
Consumerism peaking.
Where is the justice?
The law targets those who are poor,
The rich are bypassed.
Those who have,
Have too much.
They give only to gain more.
The poor stay poor.
The aristocrats accumulate wealth
But they forget.
The power of the poor.
The power of the masses.
More and more are signing up.
To take hold,
To take control,
To bring balance,
To a scale that has been tipped
To one side far
Too long.

Les Jours Tristes

There is so much I wish to say
Not just to you
But to the world.
We live
We die
We're forgotten.
We are reborn
We forget who we once were
We live and die and are forgotten
The cycle continues until
You break it.
Live to be remembered.
Have something to say
Anything.
Make yourself known
Arise awake
Sleep only when its time
Snooze is reserved for alarm clocks
Tic Toc
Times a ticking.
What are you waiting for?
History is history
The past is the past
Think fast or you wont last.
Tic Toc
Times a ticking.
Pause breathe
Continue.
Life goes on
Make the most of it
Make a blog and post it
Be heard
Until
You are remembered, forgotten or dead.
Life continues
Life goes on.
Stare unto space
See how small we are
Questions arise
Dizziness I feel
Faint I might
Perspective I've found.
The end is near.
Tomorrow today,
Who knows?
We live with fear.
Earth is not round,
But a sphere.
The things you thought you know,
The things you said you knew.
The human condition deteriorating,
The people who speak are few.
Let your voice be known,
Let your voice be heard.
Bronze is reserved for those who come in third.
The alpha the omega,
Show your face,
To the human race.
Times a peril,
Times a ticking,
Tic Toc,
Times up.

3:53 AM

I remember it like it was yesterday.
It was yesterday,
Or today.
Tomorrow perhaps.
History repeats itself
We never learn.

Thoughts are jumbled,
Words are mumbled.
Can't think.
Can't speak.
Things I want to say
I wont say.

Lets talk tomorrow?
Lets not.
Ever?
Never...

3:53 AM
Like it was a dream
So long ago.
Or was it yesterday?
Tomorrow perhaps
Will happen again.
History repeats itself
We never learn.