red-rimmed eyes

The midnight hour creeps steadily in
The old made new when today begins
Laughter peals and echoes back
when memories flash lightning fast
past red-rimmed eyes.

The midnight hour creeps steadly by
The new made old with tomorrow's rise
Memories unbidden cause to leak
Tear made rivers across one's cheek
from red-rimmed eyes.

Like all time
The midnight hour
blinks on by
and is only caught
by red-rimmed eyes.

Glimpse of the Eternal

When you can find the humour within the serious, the light within the dark,
the grace within the broken, and the beauty within the desolate, you are in that place to which few arrive, many have faith in, and all strive for.




I wish my camera could actually do justice to the beauty of this scene...

Saskatchewan... the land I love

How can you not love a place where you can learn how to dance just by watching the sky?

'tis the season...

in the words of Steven Colbert...

"Happy Hannukka, or however you decide to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ."

shadowmeld

why can't I sleep
with the mysteries of the deep
and avoid this cruel world
and the hate that it keeps?

why can't I lie
where angels go to cry
and heaven's tears flow
in rivers on high?

fiend

the surge, the rush,
the taste that fades,
but never goes away,
leaving me hungry,
thirsty for more,
always looking for
more.

frantic searches reveal
one more shot
(this time, at least),
and I settle back and
let it take me.

it's over before it begins.
already my mind is scanning
the usual hiding places
like a mental flip-book
of smiling faces
that turn ugly and evil
and consume my soul.

I rip apart each room,
a demon possessed
with ambition only
known by those
who have been
there before.

"I'm fine", I say
to those who ask,
who question
the red-ness of my eyes,
the dancing of my fingers
and the bouncing of my knees.

I'm fine, it's okay.
I'm always like this,
always have been.

says the fiend.

check it out....

Greehouse gasbags

comments? let 'em buck.

doff the cap

Let the games begin...

the writing was on the wall
but we were all to busy to read.
but really, who cares at all,
when the castle's so far East?

the nobles spent and squandered
and abused priviledge and rank, but
when they got caught their minds wandered
all the way to the bank.

the lesser nobles got pissed
and decided to do something about it all
so they got together and swarmed the bastards -
oh how the "mighty" fall!

now the king's lost his crown
and we're supposed feel bad
cuz the man's been put down.

Ad infinitum

Miserere mei, Deus.

The light shines down
cascading relief upon me in
the knowledge that a new
day will dawn despite
efforts to the contrary.

Lux sit de profundis.

My faith has been beaten,
my shield is cracked and worn,
so I fall back to camp
to fix the warped and torn.

Laude aute dominum.

My armour renewed and
my weapons sharp and oiled
I head into the valley
where the battle toils.

Vi et armis.

The cycle renews,
we rush forth into the breach,
making slow headway with
the blood slick under our feet.

Viam inveniam aut faciam.

We are the few,
the brave,
some say the damned,
but there's a war to be waged,
and no idle time to be had.

Morituri te salutamus.

Cloaked

"You try to hide it
like Oreo-stained teeth,
pearly-whites flecked
with black spots that
couldn't be washed away
by a quick swish of milk.
So it sticks to your soul
and rots it away
like plaque on enamel.
Thing is,
your soul's a lot more
fragile than your teeth are.
I mean, how many times
have you seen a tooth
broken by mere words?
And yet those same words
have the power to shatter
someone's soul and drive it
into a pit of despair from
which only a desperate
act on the parts of angels
can save it from the demons
you set upon it.
And since you live in black,
but reside in grey,
it's easy to believe you
when the denial begins."

In my time of need...

Today feels like forever.
Awake in the dark
I lie here dreaming,
spinning around
I feel like screaming
at unvoiced emotions
welling up in me,
filling my soul and
bursting its seams.
A thread comes loose,
unaware to me
a demon grabs hold
and pulls it free
releasing the fire
that's burning inside
scorching the container
in which it tried
to hide.
As I pull back
and shake my head,
I wonder what else
could lie ahead
in this,
my time of need.

Random scribblings from the bus stop

Through the stillness comes
the sound of someone in a
mad rush, pushing his 4
cylinders to the height
of revolution in his
attempt to get "there"
[wherever that is]
that fraction of a second
sooner so someone doesn't
have to wait like they used to.

Doctor, my patients are leaving,
and I don't want to wait to
get them back. Can I just IM their
prescriptions to them?
Oh yeah, I lost my contacts list
when I last rebooted... Can
I just google them?

gone

The perfecting of
self with plastic,
booze and nicotine,
through lasers,
fast cars and
magazines, destroying
what once was to
create the "new"
you.

[but I happened to like the "old" you]

This "new" you looks
25
but feels more like
60,
sneers at the content
but envys them
in vain.

[Why? You used to be happy]

Hollowness prevails,
the soul trapped
inside wails to
be set free,
to be allowed to
be seen for who
you are.

[But who are you?]

"There"

"There" is a place
where people's fate
collides with the
wall of time.

"There" is the land
where dreams can stand
unshattered and embraced.

"There" is the time
when I can stop
what I'm doing and
just breathe.

"There" is the ideal
that exists in my mind
that my faith makes real.

5 lines to perseverance

Chin up
keep marching
eventually you'll get there
where ever "there" is
and you can rest.

sidewalk decorations

I was gonna post some bull-fwop poem that I whipped up in 30 seconds flat, just so's I'd have a fresh post this week, but then I stopped, thought, and said to myself, "Self, that's garbage. And if YOU don't like, why the hecks are you gonna post it?" and I realized, hey, I got a good point there. So I'm not gonna post that piece of garbage. Instead, I'll post THIS piece of garbage. So there you go. Actually, there *I* go. Cuz really, I don't post for anyone who happens to read it. I post for myself. And right now, the only thing I have to say to myself is what's just been written.

the now

"It's around 7:00 when I finally park the Grape in the garage.
I'm tired, sore, and hungry. Which means I'm as
grumpy as a geezer with a stuck fart. I get into
my van and take off, grab some Kung-Pow, then peel
rubber home. I have work to do. The thing I haven't told
my bosses yet is that I'm one of their suppliers. And by suppliers,
I mean I supply the one thing that, without which, would cut their
knees out from under them. Bodies.
Not just any bodies, mind you. These people deserve what
they get. They are chosen by some suit in a cushy chair
to go the way of the Dodo for crimes they've committed.
I don't officially exist, but everyone knows that it's not really
that bad of a thing to have around. I'm usually reserved for
traitors and the truly vile. I'm pretty good at making it look
like they do themselves in; a short length of rope and a
tipped over chair is usually good enough to fool most of the local
yokels who respond. But every once in a while a good challenge
comes up, and I have to get creative.
I love my jobs. I love the irony of planting some stiff
3 days after I off him. I enjoy the money I make doing
both jobs. The money from the funeral home keeps me
in Kung-Pow and razor blades, so I can't complain.
Am I happy? I guess. I can't see myself doing anything else
right now. But I can't say what'll happen in a few years.
I live in the now."

voidwalker

"Quickly in, quickly out, if you do
it right there's barely even a mess.
Maybe a little foam, a little slobber,
but there's hardly ever any redness
around. Wire? Huh, you watch too
many movies. Wire's too messy.
And in this business, it's all about
non-existance. I'm a myth; I'm
the monster that everyone knows
exists, but just can't believe it. So I
don't. Easy, right? But I'm tired man.
I'm tired of not being anybody. I
want to be somebody. I want to be
Joe Schmuck filling his mid-sized sedan
with regular unleaded at the cheapest
station in the city. The money's good,
but it doesn't buy what I really want.
I just want a spot that's MINE. One that
I've worked for, earned my right to be
there. Yeah I can buy one, but it just
doesn't feel the same. My whole life feels
like it came off of a shelf somewhere, like
that impulse buy everyone makes that
seems perfect at the time, but when it's all
said and done, what do you do with it?
Where does it go? It doesn't go anywhere,
doesn't belong anywhere. And you can't
return it, because you lost the sales slip in the parking lot."

tear

Words have failed
Structure has crumbled
Ears are not listening
Actions speak louder
But what is louder than indifference?

Lead by doing
Learn by example

So pay attention,
for I have nothing left to say.

wear

drained beyond movement
a dryed-out husk
seemingly hell-bent
on pushing back the dusk
because it's so unproductive
nothing gets done while sleeping
nothing except restoration
relaxation
and all that uselessness
that only serves a body good.

[A slow nod of understanding]

A burst of sunlight
startles the iris of your eyes,
making them shimmer
and sparkle in ways
that move my soul like
no other can.

And the only word that comes
to mind is
"Wow..."

A rush of emotion threatens to
overtake me,
drown me in a torrent of feeling,
and this time,
I let it.

Looking back, seeing no regrets,
confirming my thoughts
that it was the very best
decision I've ever made
in my entire life.

And the only word that comes
to mind is
"Wow..."

stasis

To shut out the
pain and
release all the
hate I find
myself drowning
in a kind
of symbiotic
relationship with
I look to the
heavens and
see only grey
clouds as heavy
with rain as my
heart is with
rage.
And with the
suddeness that
often accompanies,
the deluge
begins, and
with the same,
but different,
suddeness, it's
over.
Again.
The adrenaline rush
subsides only
to be replaced
with an
onslaught of grief
and shame and
emptiness.
I'm alone.
Still.
It's been forever,
with an eternity to go.
Alone.

To my rib

Moonlight slowly
filters through
pale silver
enshrouding you
and as the
light surrounds
your face
I feel my
heart quicken
its pace
The touch of
your hand upon
my cheek can
cause me to
tremble, my
knees to go
weak.
Your eyes look
through mine
down into my soul
and here,
in this moment,
I feel whole

disarm

"I'm no saint. I don't know where I
fit in or if I'm even supposed to be
here.
But I know that this bullet fits in
this chamber. And I know they'll
try to run if they see me.
But unless they're a comic book
character, they're done. At 4000 feet
per second, it's over in less than a
blink of an eye. Maybe I'll find that
if I can make enough room in this
world, the outcasts like me will find
our own place in it. But there's
never enough room. Science
jumps to defend Darwin, but then
spits in his face by eliminating the
'survival of the fittest' with its
latest pill. I don't know who I'm
working for, but I'm pretty sure
Darwin would give me a pat on the
back for this. Or not; I think I
remember reading that he was a
pretty ornery guy. Whatever. The
killer in me will get the killer in
you. That's the point I'm getting
at here. Then it's over, and
maybe, just maybe, there's enough
room for me to step in and sit
down for a while."

the music

the music pulls me through.
it flow down, fills the cracks and
holes in my spirit
and lifts it up from the
depths of whatever pit
it may have fallen in. It grounds
me when I fly too high,
alive on life but in need of
a dose of reality.
the music guides my steps, an
unconscious beat to which I march.
the music is alive; without it I would die.
so the beat goes on....

Perspective

Where does the poor man
where his heart when he
has no sleeves?

Where does the cynic
put his treasures when
his heart has no key?

Why does the rich man
look with green contempt
on those without his means?

just a li'l bit?

hahaha.... update time...

I'm back in Edmonton. Been here almost a week already. Volunteered to "Orientate" the fresh meat at the university.... I gotta say, it was an absolute blast! I wish I wasn't graduating this year, so I can do it again next year... ha! Naw, seriously, it was fun. But I'm even more stoked (stoked-er?) to be FINISHED!!! By this time next year, there's a good chance I'll be in charge of teaching high school kids how to read and write and why Hitler was bad. Sweet, eh? and now, in honour of the occasion, a spontaneous poem....

back to grind
fresh, rested
and re-energized
the clock is ticking,
tocking, running down
to the end of my time
here.
Melancholy, yeah, but
bittersweet too.
Happy to leave,
with a sad farewell,
I'll offer fond greeting
to the door to my future
and boldy step on through.

Days go by...

Cruising along
with no purpose in mind
floating on the wind
just riding the tides

is this truly life
or just avoidance of death?
Have I truly lived?
I don't know yet.

But my gut, it says no,
and my heart yearns for more
there's a lot left to do,
there's forever to live for.

I'll number my days
and live as full as I can
and at the end of my time
they'll say

He seized his days
He lived his life
and died a happy man.

Carpe the diems, kids. There are only so many left.

Spam: good for shoe repair, not comment boxes.

so, in light of the creepy and annoying spam-ments that have become the scourge of Bloggerdom, I've decided to initiate the "word-verification" option. sorry if it causes y'all a bunch of grief, but I'm sure you'll get over it.

virtual tears

A burning inferno
of rage is building
up inside of me

Slowly taking over
my soul, my mind,
red is all I see

My heart is broken,
love-shattered glass,
crushed into dust

And all I can do
is wonder "what did I do?"
and stare, cold and numb.

Everything in me cries out
that it's all just a dream,
there's no need to scream

I'll awaken soon
to the light of the moon
and all will be fine.

But I know that's not true.
Lord knows,
I need you.

Escape? *sigh* No, it's just a day-pass....

As I stumble into obscurity
I find myself with startling clarity
Thinking about my future and what's to come
and musing about where I've come from.
Remembering those who have shared my past
and the friendships I once thought would last, have lapsed.
And asking myself
who it will be
that will walk beside me
into the shroud and fog
besides God.

"It is not good for man to be alone"

Melancholy memories I never had....

60 years ago today, Hiroshima bore the brunt of US anger and engineering when "Little Boy", the first atomic bomb, was dropped on it. I don't want to start some argument with the 3 or 4 people who read this, but....

was it really necessary?

http://www.cnduk.org/pages/ed/h_n01.html

follow the link above, and read about the reasoning, impact, and effects the bombs had on Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the environment. there's even a link where you can debate the legitimacy of the bombings.

Never Forget.

32

Too much
Too fast
Too soon
Too bad
Too busy
Too tired
Too depressed and
Too sad

To do this
To do that
To take time
To be glad
To smell flowers
To watch waves
To slow down
To relax

CCC

The wounded soul
tormented by memory
anxious to know
yet fearful of seeing
the cause of its pain
the source of the hurt
------------------------
Life is never easy
yet in the emptiness
it almost seems to be
Life is not always hard
but in the gone-ness
of what existed
between you and me
it almost never ceases
to be
A friendship to be cherished
dashed by one moment
of stupidity
followed too late by
lucidity
wiped from the slate
that chronicles this passage
------------------------
the loss of a limb can be considered tragic in a mostly physical sense. but the loss of a friend, and a dear one at that, wreaks much more profound and lasting havoc in a person. for with the loss of a limb, physical therapy, combined with a limited amount of occupational therapy, allows the individual to adapt, learn, and move on with their life. it reduces or eliminates completely the phantom pains often associated with such injury. but what about phantom pains of the heart? not the physical blood-pump within the chest, but the emotional center of the human being. sure, psychology and psychiatry can help some, but in reality, who are we kidding? it's just a replacement process. we replace the "bad" feelings with "good" feelings, ones that don't make us mopey and bummed out. but that's the point. we should feel mopey and bummed out. think about it. we spend large amounts of time cultivating specific relationships with people that we regard as assets to the specific social circle we happen to belong to. and when something happens that forces one or more person(s) out of the group, it leaves a void that is extremely hard to fill. the problem is, today we are all so focused on trying to get ahead, trying to prepare for the ever-changing future that awaits, that we have no bloody time to feel morose, depressed, bummed out or even just plain old sad. and that sucks. it takes time to go through the steps of change, to navigate through from denial to acceptance. but no takes the time to do it. that's why there are so many crazy people in our society. repressed grief, social anxiety, gruelling deadlines... it's no wonder to me that people go postal on each other the way they do. the need a method to cope, to vent their destructive emotions, but in this supposedly "enlightened" society where it's "okay" to be in-touch with one's inner-self, being public with one's feelings and emotions still has a negative social stigma attached to it. I would argue that this stigma has become stronger, because on the surface, John Q. appears to be supportive and understanding, but it's a totally different story at home in the dining room. And that is where the stigma has gathered its strength, because it is increasingly important in this day and age for people with whom one has next to zero daily contact with to think of them in a positive light. It's the unspoken message that shreds the fragile psyche of the "new mellenium person". Nobody's perfect, but they should be. that's what's running through the collective conscience of this new society. I say, nobody's perfect, and why should they be? You are who you are. For God's sake, just accept it. No, actually, for YOUR sake, accept it.

Come on gimme stitches, it's now or never

the stitches in my wrist came out today. I almost hoarfed. First time I've ever had stitches [that I can remember]. don't think I'll do that again, it's not that fun. well, okay, the sympathy and grossness was kinda cool, but overall, not so hot an experience. I'm kinda bummed out right now, cuz it's raining, which means no work, and there's nothing to do around the house. Most of my friends work inside, so they're all working, or they're working out at camp, where I'm not allowed to be if I'm not a staff member or camper. I'm getting restless and twitchy. I need action, something to DO so I can vent a little. I'm not allowed to drum or play guitar for the next coupla days, cuz the doc says the wrist motions could re-open the wound. Can't practise kata for the same reasons. This is stupid...

10 blogshares to the first person to tell me where the title of this entry came from. Actually, it's not that hard, so I'll only give 5 shares.

Potence and Presence

the pain drags me through
darkness hot in pursuit
running for the light
avoiding this fight
----------------------------
the time is all wrong
it's taking too long
the end is not near
but they all flee in fear
----------------------------
standing alone and weak
blood spattered and streaked
falling enemies shout,
their screams drowned out
by the rush of blood through my head.
-----------------------------
soft in the pale moonlight
I watch and wait
you step carefully down the path
towards me
I breathe deep in anticipation
a burst of adrenaline sharpening my senses
the midnite hour is magical
full of wishes, wonder, and passion
as we look up at the stars
and join them
in heaven.

New Post!!

The wedding was okay.... major lack of planning though. PLUS, I got suckered into helping set the whole she-bang up. [screw the corrections from now on... that story to come] Good luck to Mike and Leanna though, even though they'll likely never read this. WHo cares? Not me, too much to do in not enough time. I have picturese of his stag, but they suck, cuz I'm not a photogroahper. Rest assured, it was fun. Almos t got my head pulled off by my brother. I"m now 6'5. I don't think I'm gonna wrestle with him any mmore.

Been working hard witha landscaping crew here in Lloydminster. Learning all sortsa new junk.... like hwo to run stuff over witha skid-steer, how to use a chainsaw properly (keep your hands away from the moving chain, it hurts). Acutally, what happeneed was the saw gave a little kickback just as I finished cutting some shrubs, and jumped up and bit my left wrist. My hand is still kinda numb from the freezing and stiches and stuff, sot that's why my grammar sucks right now. Good thing we're working by the hospital.

Update to come within the month

Peace..

***oOoooOOooggg......

today's gonna be a fun one....

Update

This weekend is my buddy Mike's bachelor party. More to follow. Pictures are a possibility.

and yes, the WHOLE weekend is the party....

Newman's dead; Jerry's banging the maid; Elaine's a grammy; Kramer's lost downtown.

so the previous 4 posts were originally supposed to be one reaaalllyy long one, but then I though about it, and realized that people can only take small doses of reality at a time, so I busted it up some. And on retrospect, I shoulda broken it down even more, and left more time between posts. oh well, hindsight's always 20/20. in other news...

I moved back to Lloyd for the remainder of my summer "vacation" because I didn't get any of the jobs I applied for up in E-town. Oh well. I came back, unpacked, and went to work. It's amazingly refreshing to be doing grunt work for 12 hours a day after spending the last 10 months sitting at a desk writing papers and junk. I think that after I graduate and start teaching full-time, I'll spend at least 1/2 my summers doing this sort of work. It's great stress relief, landscaping is.

There's been a rumor of a Blogstock '05.5, possibly in Edmonton or Vancouver or some other Western city... just to put my 2 bits into the mix, I vote for Edmonton. I'll even volunteer my couch to the first lucky respondant after E-town's the confirmed venue for the shindig. Skill testing question may apply....

In other news, I'm helping train one of my best friends for some major university cross-country running race. If anyone has some tips or pointers they'd like to share, use the comment box.

Reality 0.4

Endless games of phone tag
unanswered emails
and hurt feelings.
The result of "technological advancement"
a recession of personality
We've forgotten how to laugh out loud;
now we just "LOL"
Hiding behind the false mask of anonymity
the computer screen provides,
forgetting that there are people out there
who can see you
even if you can't see them

We see through webcams
into other people's lives
things that need
fixing, but forget that
our own lives are in shambles.
And when relationships go sour
or a friend becomes one no longer
it's easier to hit ctrl-alt-delete
than make an attempt at reconciliation.
What makes this so much easier?
Is it because we have tangible personal firewalls
that we set up to limit other people's access to
our lives? We can set up routers and hubs and
all kinds of other junk
to force people and information
into a path of our choosing,
and when we try to do that
in a real-life setting
we get confused and frustrated
and scared when it doesn't go
our way.

Irony = the use of technology to publish anti-technology rants.

or, as I call it - realism.

turn your enemy's strengths against him; fight The System by using The System.

Reality 0.3

Inter-personal communication
is so easy and convenient
these days, but
there is more to it
than just reading their
words or hearing
their voice.
It's a total-body experience.
Talk face-to-face,
See the expressions,
Hear the words,
Feel the emotion,
All together.
Technology, as
wonderful as it is,
cannot replace that.
It's part of what makes us human.
Total embracing of
technology will mean
sacrificing parts of
our humanity.

It has already begun,
this tragedy.

Reality 0.2

Close your eyes
to the false reality
that is broadcast
to the world
by propagandist
war-mongering fools
and those who support them.
Look around,
go outside,
experience life,
real life,
YOUR life
and find what is
truly important.

Reality 0.1

The cracked and warped
frame of sanity
holds the collective conscience
hostage with
reality television
instant-win tickets
and 0% financing,
breaking glass and hearts
with equal parts
of disregard and
false comedy.
tragedy.

let yer brain munch on this for a while

"Far away in a distant land,
There was a man no longer a lad.
He awoke one day, in time to find
That Life was about to leave him behind.
So he said to himself, 'Self,
get your gear in order, or
be confined to the shelf.'
Encouraged and ready, he struck
out on the road,
not knowing what the future would
hold.
His destination only a foggy
dream,
his journey not fully seen,
Yet he travels on, full of hope.
For the friends he meets will help
him cope."

*h-urk!!*

that's the sound that I feel I will soon be making... all this studying is making me sick. or it could be a combination of dehydration and fatigue. either way, it'll all be over by tomorrow night. but that's not the real purpose of this blog entry. I just finished cruising my regular reads and noticed a few new posts/comments about Blogstock '05. While I really wish I could go this year, alas, previous commitments and lack of ca$h are preventing it.

That said [again], if there is a Blogstock '06.... chances are I could make it. I'm in the alpha stages of planning my vacation for next summer (my grad present to myself). I would really like to spend some (okay, all of it, but I'm trying to be realistic) out East, visiting the Center of the Universe (aka - Toronto) and Montreal &c. I'm thinking, since my bro is out at Waterloo, I'd make that my base of operations, and go from there. And, being the cheap sumbithc I am, I'd do it as frugally as possible. And who knows, I may even like enough to stay longer, maybe get a job while out there and "work". Or maybe I'll scrounge up enough guts to shop my writing around and get it published, and live off the earnings. (HAHAHAHAHA... right. 1st priority would be loans. I said I'm trying to be realistic here.) Anyways, just thought I would shove my 2 sense into thinks...

**all typos are purposeful**

diddley diddley doo gah frumpagusto

studying for a final with Confederations Cup football [soccer] action on the boob-toob with my guitar beside me and the answer keys in easy reach, with some cold chocolate milk (I remember when we used to call it Vico....) and a box of cookies.... what could make this day any better? Oh yeah, some sunshine, and no final exam looming over my head like an executioner's hood. I have a headache, I got roughed up something awful last night playing soccer, and got rained on while I walked home.

Who says I'm not a happy guy?

Crossing the Bar - Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may ther be no moaning of the bar
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For though from out our bourne of Time and
Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

********************************************

This is one of my all-time favorite poems. I don't know why; it speaks to me on many, many levels.

Double Meaning

Shades.


Edit: So I was reading Ciavarro's latest post, and being the me-junkie I am, I decided to look and see if my blog was "for sale" on blogshares.com. I guess it is. What I wanna know is, who the hell would "buy" a piece of this blog? That's like buying a piece of me. And I'm not for sale. Especially for a measley B$0.35 a pop. That's ridiculous. You can't put a price on my intellectual property unless I say you can. But I think I should just forget about this, cuz I'm getting pretty steamed, and I have a final on Thursday to concentrate on.

Let's see if this works....

Ozymandias - Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

A Warrior's Epitaph

Struck down by six swords
Rising, raging,
taking three more
while five other appear late,
finally falling before the
combined might of the eight.

A glorious death
in battle's fury,
in honour's glory,
fit for myth
and fit for story

I journey on to
my prepar-ed place
to sit with Odin,
see his scarred face,
to dine with warriors
of legends past,
and take my place,
among them at last,
in Valhalla.

The Signal Corps(e)

Lay me down
upon the pyre
douse with oil
light with fire
launch the boat
and watch it float
way out far
to turn into a star
of burning orange and red
a signal to all: Rome is dead.

a wandering, wondering mind

Dreamscapes of higher consciousness,
establishing a temporary link with
the cosmic energy coursing
through eternity, tapping
into the current of time
and day-tripping
upstream, only
to be thrown
back to the
banks of
the present
by a monsoon
of possibility.
Awakening with the
knowledge that nothing
is certain, that knowledge
is temporary, borrowed, to be
returned upon death, knowing that you
know nothing, opening the door that crosses
the threshold of the temporary to the eternal, ethereal,
enlightened and invisible goal for which many strive, few achieve
and all admire.

sounds of night

The sounds of the night
breaking glass
sirens, alarms
shouts, running
the wind, or, rather
the lack of wind
the silence of the apartment
click of keys
faint hum of a fan
low-volume music
Sweet Caroline
rustle of paper
padding of feet on carpet
the sounds of the night
closing in on me

blaaaaahhhh

Current mood: hot/tired/lonely/tired of being lonely

Current method of dealing with it: sitting in my boxer-shorts trying to cool off.

Current tunes: Winamp playlist X-06-05: Muse, Foo Fighters, Audioslave, k-os, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Opeth

Current writing status: chop-blocked like that dude in the TAG bodyspray commercial

Current weather: Sunny with cloud patches, light wind

...

Will you
catch me
when I
fall?
Be with me
all the
way?
Dry my tears
Chase my fears
away?

She asked.

The Eternal Bond

The
collision
of destinies
sends
shockwaves
of emotion throughout
the cosmos.
The
energy
that connects us
all
quivers-
then just
as quickly
strengthens.
This
bond within
humanity
seems both
fragile, yet,
eternal.
How it has
survived this long
is unknown,
unfathomable.
Except,
maybe,
to God.
It survives
in spite of,
and because of,
humanity's best efforts
to destroy it.

I have an idear (look out world!)

Alright, I'm sure there a people out there who read this but don't comment or anything, either b/c they're scared or just don't give a shaz. Or maybe I'm just being arrogant. Whatever, that's not really what I was trying to get at here. I have enabled people to comment as "Anonymous", and I actually like it when people take advantage of that. It lets me see the true thoughts of someone, even though I don't know who they are. I dig that. So if anyone reads this thing and a thought gets triggered, post it here in the comments section. I don't care if you're "Anonymous" or if you broadcast your name to the world. Just no phone numbers (right Pitt? lol). Seriously, use my space to rant and/or rave and/or write idears down and/or write a poem or story and/or whatever. I don't care. Well, I do care, just, well... gah, nevermind.

Also, if anyone can help me with the whole posting pictures dealy-o? Right now I have to post them on my MSN space PhotoAlbum if I want to share. Which I do. But I'd rather share them here. So for now, I'll just post a link to the MSN junk somewhere over there ---->.

A beautiful mistake

The product of
desire and loss
of self-control,
Born of arrogance,
ignorance,
free-will
and naivite,
a most perfect mistake,
the consequence
of passion
set free for a
heartbeat,
to exist for
a
lifetime.

sheez

so I'm out with some friends last nite, just hanging out and what-not, no big deal. Go back to one friend's apartment to wind down. She's having problems with her computer, and a guy from back home is helping her via RemoteAssistance, but still having some problems b/c she really knows nothing about computers. So I offer my assistance, knowing that b/w the two of us (me and the other guy), we can get this licked. Everything smooths out (especially once I show her how to turn off the NumLock function, it's a laptop). We get the program running to bust the viruses on her compy, then I bug off in a hurry, cuz I was about to miss the train and I didn't wanna spend the night. I catch the train after an interesting conversation with a con-man in the station (note: don't try to con an ex-con man). Get to the university, rush to catch my bus. The time is about 1:08 am (I know, cuz I checked). Last bus is s'posed to leave at 1:09 am. It doesn't show. Damn. So I hoof it the last 3.5 miles to my apartment. It's a little chilly with the wind, so I pick up some hot chocolate and cookies from Timmy Ho's. The walk was great, except, for some reason, some idiot was watering his lawn. IT'S 2 IN THE FRIGGIN MORNING!! Who waters their lawn at 2 am? I could see if it was an automatic sprinkler, but nooo, he's out there himself playing with the hose and junk. And I walk right through it. Got soaked. Not pleasant. Good thing it was only another block or so home. But man, that pissed me off. Hope everyone else had a better Saturday.

The Others

I wage war
against your
unseen foes
Losing more
than I'll
ever win

Heaven's my
eternal ally
the Pit
my enemy
though there
are days
when it
seems I
get stranded
in the
middle alone
both sides
attacking me
at once

Will my
battles ever
end? Or
will I
continue through
the course
of history
enduring oppression
to secure
eternal liberty
for those
who will
live to
enjoy it?

My struggles
will eventually
consume me.
Hasten that
day, for
it will
signal the
end and,
at last,
peace.

Ponderous Awakening

dreams unfold.
the fog lifts.
is it the past?
or things to come?
can one know
when they won't remember
come the morning light
what was revealed
during the night?

but if I remember
every time
every dream
every event
my over-worked synapses
create in their down-time
what advantage do I have?

I envy those
who forget
the creatures of
nightmares
because for me
they become
the creatures of
daily thought
no longer
living in shadows
unafraid of light

Hmmm...

I went to Burger King today, just for kicks, and because I like the food (go figure). Apparently there's some scratch 'n' win game going on, but you wouldn't know it if you hit the one on 109 St/Jasper Ave. For some reason, they didn't give me my little card. And I didn't figure it out till I got home and saw a commercial for it. Now that kinda ticked me off. I was robbed of a chance to win free stuff. That bugs me for some reason. Maybe it's cuz of my uber-cheap nature, but if there's a shot at me getting free stuff, I want it. Who are they to say otherwise?

I must have a pretty swell life if my biggest complaint of the week is that I didn't get free stuff.

New Word

I made up a new word just now, one that I can use anywhere without fear of repercussion because it's not profane or demeaning to anyone. Ready for it?

fuggernugger. or fuggernuggers, if you wish.

use it in whatever context you want. I started using it in place of futhermuckers, or as a general non-expletive exclamation. I'm sure you'll find creative ways to use it.

It's also defused a potentially explosive confrontation, just because it sounds funny.

Use it wisely, for it has much potential, for either Dark or Light. Kinda like that Skywalker kid. And we all know how he turned out....

Garn

I was going to write a parody of the Dave Matthews Band song Gravedigger, entitled Nose Picker, but as I was listening to the song, I realized that I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I don't know if it's because I used to work for a funeral home or what, but I just couldn't bring myself to desecrate that song. That sucks, cuz it would've been really funny...

So I'll just do it this way.

Nose picker
with your finger way up there
digging for gold
knuckle to the nostril
what happens when you find it?

Do you flick?
Do you lick?
Pick and flick?
Pick and lick?
Pick, flick, lick?
either way....

ick.

Live on in memory

Live on in memory
Photography does no justice
Like a flash of lightning
the experience is over
So live on in memory
for pictures fade
but tales told
gain a certain glow
And when details depart
and the memory itself
is only a memory
you just know
and smile

I give up on titles

Right now, it's hard to be creative and write. So I've been relaxing, emptying my mind. Turns out, what comes into my empty mind does not translate into acceptable writing. I guess I need to have over-worked synapses in order to create. Writing, it seems, is a release for me. It's how I empty my mind. One way to explain it is in the form of a story I heard long ago.

A man invites a co-worker to dinner one evening. They get to the man's house, and the co-worker noticed that the man stopped and touched a shrub growing outside his door before entering. He asked the man how come he does that. The man replied, "Every day before going inside, I leave my worries and stresses on this tree so that they don't affect my family. And every morning I pick them up again. But the funny thing is, most of the time when I go to pick them up again, they aren't there anymore."

In a way, I guess writing is my worry-bush. And right now, I'm not really stressing about anything, so I have nothing to put in it's branches.

My May long-weekend was a blast, really relaxing. Went to Jasper National Park with 3 friends (of the female variety, how I swung that, I don't know). Went rock-climbing with about a dozen other people we hooked up with while there. We called ourselves "The Insta-Crowd." Met a really nice family who we hung out with over dinner one night. Being the only male in our campsite, I was the designated fire-starter and pack-mule, and when it was time to leave, the designated car-packer. All in all, a good weekend.

Parting Shot.

I'm off to go camping for the weekend (huzzah for spontaneity!!) So I leave you with this:

Exposed beyond the shadows
Naked to discovery
turning, looking
Nothing for covering

Running, stumbling
Falling, scraping
Rising, running
Breathless

Ahead a shelter
of sorts
ruins of majesty
disgraced
by forgetfulness

Is it here?
There is nothing.
Yet
there is
something

Heavy and grey
Familiar
forms etched into the lid
slid
to one side

Home.

...

Whoa...

I was just looking at the VIARail site... and to go from Edmonton to Montreal would cost me ~800 bones, with a student discount. Ouch. Greyhound's a little cheaper @ ~$600. But either way, I'm looking at over 2 days of travel each way... if I wanted to spend that much time on the road, I'd go to Mexico. But now I know roughly how much to save for next summer, if I wanted to go to Montreal next summer. But who knows, plans change, idears are born and die, and 365 days is a loooong time. We shall see. Maybe I'll be back on my Vancouver buzz by then.

Holy Sweet Mother of Jesus

I just (literally, just) finished watching the season finale of CSI.

My life is complete. (just kidding)

George Eads deserves an Emmy. Hell, he deserves two; Best Actor and Best Sound Effects, for the noises he made while buried alive (sorry for the spoiler, in case anyone reads this and hasn't seen it).

GD, that was a helluva show.

But... "Poncho"?

Edit: Yes, Tarantino did a good job. But it was the actors who pulled it through. Gary Dourdan deserves an Emmy too.

Diary of a Double Agent

Caught up in a web of intrigue
tailing
evading
close encounters and narrow escapes
the life of a double agent

sent to Hell on a mission from Heaven
just to keep an eye on things, they said
But doesn't He know all? I thought
but it doesn't pay to question the Head.

Mandated but free
one Objective to achieve
but how is up to me

Why choose me? I asked
Because you know more Truth
than any mortal should

You've studied the texts, the grimoires, the codices
You've seen the tools and artifacts
You know what they're for and how to use them
Yet you remained faithful to our cause

We cannot protect you there
You will surely be found out
Rely only on your own faith and strengths
You'll be tempted to defect, without doubt,
far more than ever before.

He will find you.
He will know you as his enemy.
He will take steps
to draw you to his side.

As his servant.
His most powerful servant.

He'll say.

I only studied so
to know my enemy
and war effectively
I thought I should know.

If I can bring them into this world
I could take them out of this world.

But now I'm here
in the Devil's lair
Sending the word...

Prepare.

Temporary Blindness

Disoriented by this sudden onslaught of Darkness
Confused by the lack of a sense
Stumbling up agianst one wall, then another
Enshrouded in this metaphysical fence

Feeling my way down the hall to curl up on the floor
Drawing a blanket(?) near for comfort
I fumble for the remote, the phone, just to hear a voice, any voice
Even the radio, which never has anything decent to report

But I don't own a radio
the phone is dead
and the couch ate the remote again
So I'm left alone in my void

Suddenly I'm not alone anymore
Blinding light pierces the shroud
I have to squint to make sense of it
Then I exclaim out loud

I can see again
the sun, the trees, the city life
I see it all through fresh eyes
my reward for enduring past strife

Everything's normal again
Never to be the same again

Patience, baby...

Vision becomes clearer
Purpose comes nearer
But still shrouded in grey
Not to be known today
Patience serves well
While waiting for it to tell
Where I go from here
Whether far or near
What destiny holds
I do not know

So I wait.

Kids

From joy to despair in the space of a stumble
One moment pure freedom, the next nothing but trouble
The suddenness of it as painful as the result
Their laughter and smiles akin to adding salt
But healing takes no time
those who mocked are forgotten
And joy once again runs freely.

Repercussions

so yeah, yesterday I said that someone's gonna feel my anger, most likely me. And that's exactly what happened. I hurt myself. I decided I needed to work out my rage in a physical manner, so I did an hour of stretching (which felt really, really good), then somewhere around 60 or 70 crunches. That really hurt afterwards, and I spent another 1/2 hour trying to stretch my abs. I'm fine today, though, so I'm wondering if I coulda maybe made it to 100... hopefully by the end of the week I will. But last night hurt a lot, and I couldn't do the rest of my equipment-less workout. That'll teach me.

so a bunch of guys came to the city on friday night, stayed with me till this afternoon. we had a good time. played soccer, swam, ate a freaking huge dessert at Red Robin's called a Mountain High Mud Pie. didn't feel so hot after that. sunburn on my arms, legs, lips and forehead. they left today, just at that point where going out and doing stuff became normal. so now, bored outta my skull, and disappointed that the national team lost a gold-medal final (they shouldn't even have made it to), I turn to the anonymity of the internet to placate my lack of social life? jeez, how pathetic is that? I'm feeling thoroughly disgusted with myself and my life right now. I need to shake things up a little. Yep, RyeGuy's pissed, for no good reason, and someone's gonna feel it. Most likely me. We'll see.

Bloody hell. Usually when I'm pissed I get creative. But right now, I can't write a damn thing. That....really....sucks. Bloody hell. I need music. Angry music. grrr....

I dunno... I guess "Untitled" is pretty unoriginal, so call it whatever you want

Raise yourself to new heights
Be prepared for new sights
This world is changing constantly
For better, for worse, constrained and free

XIX

I feel the anger taking over my heart
So I move, set myself apart.
I start to see red as my soul is getting mugged
So I return to you, to stand inside your love.

As I stand here oh Lord
Let your words ring true
Help me to forgive them
For they know not what they do
I stand in your love, oh God,
Please make me shine
Make me a man apart
One of your own kind...

I'm driven towards anger, Lord,
Being led to sin.
Show me how to release this darkness
and reveal the light within.

To forgive, but not forget, and
To look back with wisdom,
To show justice and mercy
and to further your kingdom.
When I retreat into you
I'm shown this to learn.
Then I go and battle again,
only to return.

I give you my heart, and all that's inside.
I give you it all, I want nothing to hide.

[from you]

XVIII

It was hard not to stare
at your beauty that day
when you looked like an angel
descending in grace.

Empty

Too many people pulling at me,
Pulling in too many ways.
How am I supposed to stand it all,
When all I want to do is crawl away?
Everyone wants something from me,
But all I have are two hands,
One mind,
One Spirit with which to give,
And they're all running on
Empty.

Help.

That's all I have energy to say now.

Help,
please.

XVII

In this state of "otherness"
Some find it's fun to miss
The world around them
When the inside is pure bliss

Snapping into this "truth"
That's been created for me
I watch the unchained enslaved
and know they think they're happy

But if you could follow me
into this tragic unknown

would you?

XVI

If I had gold
jewels and palaces
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the cars
the contacts
and contracts
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the "bling"
that "thing"
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the looks
the fame
the power
no shame
but not my word
I am no one

Read and respond, svp

Santa Maria, Madre de Dios...

came across this story from 2002

"... and I just sit back and shake my head/ wondering what else could lie ahead"

-->2 lines from an as-yet unfinished poem, seem to fit pretty well with my reaction to this. What's yours?

Stockholm Syndrome

Descending into this Malkavian state
Devoid of the basic principles of sanity
Without the outward appearance of such
No one believes that it exists

The thoughts flying around
Cannot be described in a human capacity
They're so obviously alien to the outside
But make such complete sense to me

I see that which most decline to acknowledge
The eternal struggle on the angelic plane
The titanic clashes of immaterial good and evil
Bring me to my knees in physical pain

This which has captured me so
is that which is torturing me so

But given the opportunity and the will
There is no force in me that could kill
That which has ensnared me
Encumbered my mind
Embroiled my soul
Sustained me
with pure
bliss

Part XV

Can I be your saviour?
The trials in your life
the traps in your path
the thieves lying in wait
you will fall to them at some time

Can I be your saviour?
Your heart will be broken
Your feelings torn from shame
Your friends stay away
You will be alone at some time

Can I be your saviour?
The music will stop
The dance will end
The party will break up
you will go home at some point

The trials, I've fought them
The traps, I have tripped them
The thieves have stolen from me

My heart has been broken, my feelings torn
My friends are nowhere to be found

My music has stopped
the dancing is no more
There is no party to speak of

Can you be my saviour?

Part XIV

Head in the clouds
for the tenth time today
dreaming of that place
where I used to play
Remembering the rigs
the cables, chords and stands
the amps, the keys, the gigs
my sticks, the bass, the band
Smiling at how we jam
and dream and rip
through our sets
Recalling how lost I'd get
when the rythym began to flow
how we'd come together and gel
the high we'd get from everything
from the lighter-producing acoustic bits
to the floor-breaking full-bore rock

There were no tears when we all left
just "let's do it again sometime"

Brought back to reality
I don't want to be here
I want to go back
and live out our teenage dreams

It will always be a part of me
and I will always wonder
should I have stayed?

How I miss it sometimes
God I miss it...

Some nasty fun

http://www.addictinggames.com/kittencannon.html

1152 is my record.

I am no one's lackey

Some yutz called me a minion. That does not sit well with me.

Main Entry: min·ion Pronunciation: 'min-y&n Function: noun Etymology: Middle French mignon darling 1 : a servile dependent, follower, or underling 2 : one highly favored : IDOL 3 : a subordinate or petty official

I really, really hate it when someone calls me a minion. I am no one's underling. I will not take orders from someone if I don't want to. The moment I decide that I have had enough of a particular "superior", I leave their service (and sometimes take them down a peg or six). Seriously, if you want to piss me off, call me someone's bi*ch. Then run.

I fight no one's battles except my own. If it so happens that we are on the same side, bully for you. I will fight alongside you as long as you remain worthy of it. But I will not hesitate to drop you in your tracks if you do something to deserve it. Just because we fight together in one battle does not mean we fight together for the whole war. I am on the side that I perceive as correct according to my morals, beliefs and all-around being. I realize that I will lose many battles, and I accept that.

What's my point? Basically, I'm nobody's pawn. And if someone tries to treat me as such, it's to their peril. I don't get pissed off very easily (ask anyone who knows me), but that is one of very few ways to get me mad fast. Other than that, I'm a nice guy.

Lucky XIII [A Warning]

Looking through broken glass
at this disjointed scene unfolding
and defamiliarizing my surroundings
no one had ever told me
it wasn't easy

Trying to break through this
illusion of sentimentality
the quick and the righteous
inject hot-shots of fake reality

Walking through this
fractured smoke-screen
becoming ecstatically grateful
for your emphatic empathy
doctoring the healthy
and taxing the poor
becomes the new piety

Addicted to these therapeutic hits
becoming junked-out social cases
the rehab process a primitive hell
that forces a flawed resurrection of an empty shell
when will it end?

With us.

Part XII (ish)

Bridge

Disenfranchised with the old
Becoming a jaded and bitter troll
The spark fading from within
The spirit's light is growing dim

It's time to leave this present behind
To rework and retool this state of mind
To everything they say there is a time
And now change is the next in line

Awakened opportunity awaits it's chance
To take the lead in this new dance
New days will dawn, new horizons grow near
The only option to face it with uncertain fear

Tomorrow's the promise of things unseen
Things which few yet dare to dream
But those dreams are revealed in time's light
They give our hearts and hopes the ability to take flight.

Working for fun

I spent my Sunday doing things that I find amazingly fun, writing and creating things with Photoshop. But sometimes writing can be gut-wrenching, as it was at times with today's project. I wrote a second part to "Story", from the PoV of Jack's brother. Maybe at some point I'll write shorts from the PoV's of the mom and the dad, but this one got pretty tought to write at some points, and I don't feel like doing that to myself again right away. But enough dopey commentary; here's the meat:

"A Survivor's Guilt"

“Hello? Yeah, thanks. No, I’ll be okay. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. No no, I’ll pick you up. Yeah. ‘kay, see you.” That was my girlfriend. She’s been so supportive over the past few weeks. Heh, at least I got lucky once in my life. I just hope I don’t lose her too. I can only be so strong, and that might just do me in. Mom’s been shut up in her room ever since the funeral, and Dad, well, he was hardly ever around before, but now he’s never here. I think Jack was right; he’s having an affair. I mean, why else would he not be here with his wife and kid, when they need him most? But I don’t wanna talk about him, it just makes me mad.

I’ve been reading Jack’s journal again, the one I guess most of you’ve seen by now too. The preacher told me he wanted me to have it most, and everything else I gave to the Salvation Army like he wanted. “Don’t give that book away for anything,” the preacher said. Not that he had to worry about that. I’m keeping this till the day I die. It rips me apart, how calm he was about his sickness. Yeah, I realize there was nothing he could do about it, and he knew that. But still, if it was me, there’s no way I would’ve been that calm. No way. Jeez I miss him.

I know Jack didn’t name us in his journal. He was trying to protect us, the guy. Didn’t want a swarm of people coming down on us. He was always thinking like that; even when all the attention should have been on him, he kept asking how we were doing, or deflecting it in some other way. Best little brother a guy could have, and I never really knew him. We never talked about girls, or sports, or anything, really. I guess I just figured my world was more important, you know? I was in the middle of grade XII when he went into the hospital for the last time, focused on graduating, my girlfriend, college, but when he went in… It hit me like a truck. Everything became so petty, so meaningless, when I learned that I was really going to lose him… And the first time I visited, I only stayed for at most 30 seconds, and then I had to leave. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen someone like that, but I had to run to the bathroom and heave. Seeing the colostomy bag hanging from the rack, all the tubes and machines hooked up to him, it was just too much. I didn’t go back till the next day, and then it was okay. Not all right, the tubes and stuff still weirded me out, but I could stand it. We hung out, talked about all the stuff we should’ve before, and then before I knew it… he was gone.

I never knew what an awesome little brother I had till it was time for him to go. I guess I’m not alone in that, a lot of people have told me they felt the same way, but it never really hits you until it happens to you. When he first complained about being sick all the time, I just thought he was pranking mom, trying to get outta going to school. Then when the doctors said cancer… You have no idea how low I felt. I mean, I would go and bug him about being sick all the time, tell him I knew he was faking it, threaten to tell mom. Turns out I was wrong, hey? I tried to make it up to him after we found out, but I still feel like I owe him so much, you know? I got the guys on the football team to give him the jersey and helmet, snuck in so many tacos for the guy, visited every day, but I still feel like it’s not enough. He was buried in the jersey, with the helmet in his hands. They had to make some adjustments in the casket to do it, but they did. I made sure of that.

I volunteer with Children’s Charity now, and Big Brothers, trying to be the best big brother I can, because I know I sure wasn’t with Jack. I try to make it up to him by helping these other kids, being there for them like I wasn’t for him. Actually, that’s what I was on the phone with my girlfriend about. We’re taking a couple of kids to the local go-kart track tomorrow. The one kid is her Little Sister, I guess you’d call her. The other guy is a patient at the hospital, and all he ever wanted was to drive a go-kart. Go figure. Instead of going to Disneyland or something, he picks go-karts. What a guy… so much like Jack. My girlfriend actually caught me calling him that one day. I didn’t even know I’d done it. He didn’t mind, though, he knows the story. But I guess a lot of people do now. I’ve been wondering if it was such a good idea to publish Jack’s last journal entry, the Story most of you’ve read, but it’s a little late for that now. A little late; story of my life, it seems.

I just wanted to let you all know how things are on this end of things, to tell my story like Jack told his. I haven’t gone as far as he did, with the whole becoming Christian and all, mostly because I’m angry with God for taking away my little brother. But I’m slowly working through it, thanks to the support of my girlfriend and my friends. Mom’s having the roughest time of it all, though. I’m not asking for any sympathy for me. Give it to her. She really needs it. All she does now is sit in her room and weep. She tries to collect herself when visitors come, but she can only last for 15 minutes, tops, then she excuses herself and goes to her room, and leaves me to entertain them. I don’t mind taking up the slack. But she really needs some help, because God knows Dad isn’t giving any. He just goes to work, most days at 5 or 6 in the morning, and never gets back until 12 or sometimes later. Sometimes he stays away for days at a time. Mom doesn’t have any sisters, only a brother, and as much as he tries, he’s as useless as I am in comforting her. So, I don’t know, if you’re a praying type, pray for her a lot, if you’re going to pray for anyone. And thanks for listening to me. My name's Garrett.

Part XI

I am floating
lost out at sea
an ocean of emptiness
surrounding me
I feel so lost
out of control
Lord I need help
I feel so alone

I am helpless
I am weak
I am bitter
so I weep

Into your hand
I place my spirit
wounded and tired
of having to bear it
alone and so far
I haven't a clue
how to go on
apart from you.

Hmmm

My first run in with the tempermental side of Blogger. I had a good post going on about Transformers, and GI Joe, and Pinky and the Brain, and Freakazoid, but now you're just gonna have to use your imaginations. Actually, I'd be rather interested in hearing the stories you folks create with those characters. post the plot lines in the comments, or email the whole thang to junke_d@yahoo.com, and if I like it, I'll post it. If not, wallow in burning shame (just kidding, I'm not really expecting anything to come of this.)

The Answers

1st dude - Audioslave, Rage Against the Machine

2nd dude- Moist

chick- Skillet (1%er)

Random Thought

Don't know why this came into my brain, but I did, and now I wish to see people's reactions to this statement.

"Time does not pass; it is a static entity. It is mankind that passes. We are constantly in motion, moving through time on our own."

That makes me wonder, if it's true, does that mean we could one day see the end of time before it happens? Or look back to the beginning of time?

Drum question: Name the band(s) this drummer has been/is currently associated with:

Brad Wilk

Paul Wilcox

Lori Peters

Answers to follow, maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight, maybe never. We'll see.

Part X - The Eternal Struggle against a Darkening Mind

The masquerade has been broken
True faces are revealed
Dark powers are invoked in
Attempts to reconceal

The Awakening has begun
We are past the point of Redemption
There is no one smoking gun
All are to blame in some function

But the Bloodline has been tainted
The Ancient has grown weak
The sky has yet to be painted
His vengeance still to wreak

There is yet time for one last struggle
United we must remain standing
Not hidden in some dark hovel
We can defeat this, but not handily

There will be losses
There will be pain
There will be sacrifice
And death
and suffering.

But all it takes is one small ray
One spark of light
To chase the darkness from the fray
And claim victory over the night.

As long as I am living
and able to fight
I will continue my striving
to be a ray of light

Even if I am the last
The remnant of lost days
A reminder of the past
When it was the light that held sway

Making the Jump

I'm in the process of moving my stuff from MSN Spaces over here to Blogger. Hopefully Blogger cooperates. I hear it's got a history of being tempermental.

Edit Note --> I've finished moving all my stuff. Turns out at least one person will miss my seeing my writings in the Spaces. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Thanks, Kovac.

Story (12 April)

This is another oldie, I think I wrote when I was in Jr. High. My teacher said she cried when she read it. At the time I thought that was pretty sappy, but time and experience have corrected that misguided feeling. I recently found it tucked away in an old binder, and thought I'd dust it off for whoever reads this thing to see.

"I Have a Disease"

I have a disease that is slowly killing me. I don't know when I'll go, but it'll probably be sometime soon. The doctors gave me six months to live, but I know it's gonna be less that that. Don't ask me how I know, I just do.

I first found out that I had cancer when I was thirteen. It sucked. I was always in and out of hospitals, and they were always sticking needles in me, telling me that it wa the last test that they need to do. Liars.

It started giving me trouble when I was fourteen. The doctors thought that the cancer had spread. Then they did something called a biopsy (that's where they open you up and check to see if the cancer had spread) and to me that the cancer had spread to my lungs. That's when I learned that I had six months to live.

There are way too many things that I want to do before I go. DisneyWorld, Universal Studios, you know. Oh, I know it'll never happen, because we simply can't afford it. We could apply for Children's Charity, but my mom's too proud, and dad's never home. I think he's off having an affair, mostly 'cause he works in an office building, he's rarely home, and I watch lots of movies.

My brother used to treat me like crap, but now he visits a lot with his friends. His girlfriend is real nice, sometimes she brings me flowers. It's the thought that counts. I know that my brother is taking this predicament hard, and sometimes I wonder if he sleeps any more. He looks sicker than me some days.

The guys on the football squad gave me a helmet and jersey signed by all of them. That was really nice of them. I wear the jersey a lot, but I keep the helmet by my bed. I want to be buried with it.

The kids at school have brought flowers and cards too. Some of the guys even "sneak" me some good greasy food, because the hospital food tastes like puke (and I would know). "Sneak", because I think my nurse knows, but let's them do it anyway.

My cancer has hit just about everyone I know pretty hard. I have no problem, though. There's a preacher in the room next to mine, and we visit a lot. He even got me to be a Christian, and told me not to be scared of death because I'm going to heaven. Not that I was scared anyway. Heaven sounds pretty cool, and a whole lot better than this stinkin' hospital bed.

My cancer has been acting up lately. It's really painful. It feels as if my lungs are disintegrating and my blood is boiling inside of me. I was on the respirator for 13.5 hours yesterday because of that attack. It isn't going to be long now. I'm giving it two weeks. Tops.

I wish I could think of a word that describes how I feel with cancer in the blood and lungs. I can hardly breathe as I write this final paragraph. The reason I haven't mentioned any names is because I don't want my family and friends to be overwhelmed with sympathy cards and the like. But inspite of that, I will mention my name, just so you know who was talking to you here. I'm Jack. Goodbye.

Note--> this story seems to have struck a chord with some people. Let me know what you think of it, but please don't tell me if you cried. I hate knowing I caused that.

Part XI (old stuff newly dusted off) (12 April)

My emotions are running wild; fear, love (??) denial; this distance is a pittance, yet for me a great trial. How assuming I am, expressing myself without shame, when I don't even know if you feel the same. I feel so bad that I can talk so freely in a book, yet clam up like a cad when you give me but a look. But your eyes, true windows to your soul. Shining and innocent, full of joy and laughter, and pure. When you look at me your eyes dig a hole, exposing my true being, it seems, and I not quite sure if they are laughing at me, because of me, or in spite of me? Your smile, it makes me flutter, so I blink my eyelids, like a shutter, so you don't see the way I feel. But maybe you do -- and it makes you wonder....?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In my pain I find solace in you/ In my joy I turn away/ When it's dark I come crawling through/ In my happiness I run away/ Who's coming with me? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Too often you turn around/ to realize that I'm missing./ It can't be easy to know/ that I love you when it doesn't show.

Partt VIII (9 April)

I creep onto the stage/ before the crowd comes in/ readjust the microphones/ and make sure the sticks aren't slicked/ I adjust my throne/ a little back of the pedals/ give the cymbals a twirl/ man, I love the feel of that metal/ my cell phone goes off/ it's the band checking in/ they aren't here yet/ and wondering where I've been/ it's the same routine as usual/ maybe this time we'll get paid/ the guys finally get here/ and we saunter onto the stage/ it seems way too fast/ we just rip through the set/ I'm playing my heart out/ too bad it has to end/ we go backstage to talk to the manager/ he says "sorry kids, but the crowd didn't show/ and they buy the tickets/ you know how it goes"/ we pack up our gear/ I'm the last one to leave/ the guys seem in a hurry/ they're so easy to please/ they all picked up some chicks/ I tell them to go on ahead/ I'll meet up with them later/ with a sense of dread/ The next day arrives/ I go to the garage/ and there they are waiting/ "Dude, we're holding you back/ you're too good for us/ you can go somewhere on your own/ we've got a new drummer."/ I wanna impale him with a microphone./ So I say my goodbyes/ and walk away from the place/ that gave birth to a dream/ and a rabbit to chase/ the next day I hear/ they've signed with a label/ they tour in the spring/ with "The Pirate's Navel"/ they're were right/ they were holding me back/ now you'll find me on Whyte/ groovin' to jazz/ I still don't get paid/ only by applause/ which seldom comes often/ but that's okay, 'cause/ I'm happier now/ than I was with the band/ I can use my full talent/ that's the beauty of jazz/ groovin' to improv/ that's where it's at/ with Whitey and Slim/ and all the other cats.

Part VII (9 April)

As I sit here
Lamenting my fate
sirens go off
bring me out of my haze
I don't have it so bad
not as bad as I could
I can be happy
it's obvious I should
but I'm not
I don't know why
I feel all melancholy
it's not like I try
I go out with friends
we have a good time
and at the end of the night
I think I feel fine
then reality comes back
and smacks me upside the head
and sometimes I wonder
if I'd be better off dead
then I think of my parents
and what they'd think of that
and realize that, yes
that would make an impact
so I push on
through these muddled days
that can't quite figure out
if the sky's gonna be blue or grey.

Part VI (8 April)

Sitting on the balcony
sucking back wobbly-pops
wondering if we
will remember to clean up the tops
we've kinda thrown them everywhere
not really giving a dang
forgetting how to care
just letting it all hang
alarm clock goes off
try to roll outta bed
fall on the floor and cough
pick myself up slowly, face all red
stumble to the kitchen
frick, we're outta milk again
roommate comes out bitchin
I throw the jug at his head
this is the beginning of a good day.

Part V (7 April)

In a world that presses individuality, I get sideways looks because I don't shop at the GAP or Old Navy, and thus don't look like everyone else. I wear my hair slightly different than everyone else. My glasses are different as well. I get bad marks because I write differently, word thing differently, than the other students in my classes, and the prof has to actually think about my assignments. I guess they don't like that. People think I'm weird because I think. I take my time to answer a question, or make a statement. But they're problem is, I'm wasting their time by taking my time. Make sense to anyone? It doesn't to me. "Be different, because different is good." Right. We're supposed to be different by shopping at the same places, wearing the same clothes, eating the same foods, listening to the same music, reading the same books. Sorry, but I don't buy that. I don't buy into having other people think for me. I'd rather live on the outskirts of civilization than become one of the mindless sheep in the center of it. I'll write what I feel, not what I'm told. If I happen to be the only dude hanging out with a bunch of girls, don't assume that I'm with one, or that I'm gay. Maybe they're just better company than you are. I like getting both sides of the argument, even if I don't like the side I'm against. I'm weird because I listen more than I talk, and I write more than I speak. So? "Don't love in spite of differences; instead, love BECAUSE of differences." But it that might be hard for some people, because they are so in love with themselves. I have a heart for people; to some, that just makes me a freak, because I care about what happens elsewhere, outside of the city, the country, and the continent. Then there are those who join org's like Amnesty just so they can put it on their resume. I pity those people, because what if the truth comes out? Then they're revealed to be the frauds they really are. But I guess in this society, it's better to *look* like you have substance, than to actually bother *having* it. Me, I'll stick with my integrity, my honor, my morals and principles. Because they're what make me who I am. I'll continue listening more than talking, thinking more than doing, because if I don't, I'm afraid there'll be no one left who will.

this just in...(6 April)

I found this in my notes that I'm studying... don't remember writing it, but it's my writing, so I guess I did. Plunge the sword into your neck You are the cause of my nervous wreck Don't hesitate, quickly in and out let's get it done, release my doubt Bucking the system just gets you more pills Most are born to do nothing; I was born to kill. ----------------------------- I must have been having a bad day that day, cuz that's some pretty dark shaz. Anyway, onto a rant..... "No one wants to take responsibility for their actions. It's not the parents' fault the kids are outta control; they're "chemically imbalanced". If they go into a prolonged pity-party, they need lithium or Prozac or some other sh*t. There are so many chemicals to make us normal you become a freak if you aren't being medicated for SOMETHING. A world called catastrophe? not quite... more like a world called Viagra with a Ritalin moon, revolving around a Prozac sun. The world can't become catastrophe, because it's either too high, too low or too horny. Pills to get you high, but if you get too high, they give you pills to take you down. Pilss if you can't get it up and pills that make you limper that a paralytic's leg. Who needs to eat healthy to get the necessary fuel for your body anymore? Pop some caffiene pills (or drink some Bawls) and zoom away. If you miss a meal, no worries; that's what multi-vitamins are for. Take one (or two as recommended by your health specialist) and you're fine. I don't drink, don't smoke, don't take drugs (of any kind, if I can help it), I live a clean life, but I get blasted cuz I eat meat. F***'N HYPOCRITES!! Man that torches me. I swear, if one more pushy, hemp-wearing, dreadlocked girl blasts me for eating meat, I will shove an A&W grampa burger down their throat. Or a Wendy's Grand Slam. Whatever's closest. Cuz that's what they're doing to me, shoving their "Holier-than-thou, cuz I'm a vegan" crap down MY throat. I don't have a problem with vegans in particular; its just certain ones who need to SHUT THE EFF UP AND GET OUTTA MY FACE that I have a problem with. I don't force you to do anything; stop trying to force me. Please.

Part IV (3 April)

I did something today
I don't normally do
I don't know why
I don't know why

It might have been hurtful
It might have been mean
It might have been spiteful
It might not have been

Something I meant
Something I wished
Something I dreamed of
Something I...

I'm not really like that
I'm not really that sad
I'm not really uncaring
I'm really not bad

Forgiveness I need
Forgiveness I seek
Forgiveness I wish for
Forgiveness, I plead

----------------------------------------------------------------

I am not strong
I am not solid
I am not perfect
I am merely human
Envy can consume
Greed can overtake
Pride can override
Flaws abound

Look past the man
Look past the smile
Look past the mind
Look past the limp
Look past the laughter
Look past the eyes
Look past the cracks
Look past me
and see who I am.

Part III, with explanation (1 April)

'kay, I swear this one's the last one for tonite, cuz I'm starting to wear out now Cliche You think it's cheesy, I know, but is it?/ These feelings are corny you say, but are they?/ They're real, they're mine/ I feel this time/ it could really happen./ I don't wanna mess this up/ I'm flying high as a mountain top/ To ruin this would bring me down/ all the way to the ground/ And I'm not sure I can handle that./ Come, fly with me/ spread your wings/ take this chance/ this could last/ This is real.... But is it? ---------------------- Yeah, I actually titled this one, cuz I'll admit, I always made fun of guys and gals who got all googely-moogely over each other. Then, one day (actually this past Tuesday) it hit me, and I understood. That doesn't mean I can explain it, I just know now what I didn't know before. I added the "But is it?" line at the end to show the insecurity of infatuation, lust, love, crushes (whatever emotion you want to call it). The title's there cuz I started it as a sappy love-poem, and it really started to sound like a cliche. Then the last stanza I think I may have stolen from a song or two (mash-up, maybe?) but it sounds good... but I had to add that little "Ryan-ism", just cuz I feel wierd when I write all mushy. Wow, I'm starting to feel like Strindberg, writing his Prologue to "Miss Julie"... "I wrote it this way, not that way, and it sounds like this, not like that..." [if anyone actually reads this stuff and knows what I'm talking about, lemme know, otherwise I'm gonna get slammed by the folks back home for being such an arts-geek]

Part II (1 April)

Today is the gift
upon which to focus.
Tomorrow's a promise
with which one holds us.
Yesterday's dead
it's time to release.
Dwelling on it
is like a disease.
It'll slowly kill you.

---------------------------------------

Hidden dreams revealed
in time's light
Give our hearts and hopes
faith to take flight.
Don't let go, the distance
is indeterminate.
The fall from these heights
could bring a man to hate
all he ever strived for and achieved
and lose faith and all he ever believed.

---------------------------------------

Sleep my child
and in the while
dreams crawl through
take hold of you
accept their embrace
don't turn your face
live those dreams
because reality seems
too hard at times
for our kind.

finding my muse, Part I (1 April)

So here's how this works: I zone out during class a lot [understatement], so I manage to think up a bunch of junk that I end up writing down. Someone read it over my shoulder [how I !!!hate!!! that] and said it was pretty good, and I should submit it somewhere. Okay then, I'll submit it to the vast expanse of the Blue Nowhere, and hopefully someone will see it, read it, and pass the word. Oh yeah, before I start: listen to the album "Damnation" by Opeth. It's sublime. Okay here we gooooo..... Short and sweet to start with: A glass or a rose? Which to give? Which will be taken? Which will be seen? The now or the future (whatever it may be)?