Crime and Punishment

"nothing like getting caught to helping one grow a conscience."

the initial reaction is to assume hypocrisy of sorts. The person caught is only portraying remorse because they  have no other choice. This becomes an accepted necessary truth in most cases, and most people have a hard time believing the sincerity of a culprit's "sorrow for sin" in these circumstances.

But, perhaps a person is so driven by their crime, whether it be a matter of violence, substance abuse, or anything else gratifying and habit-forming, that they do in fact betray a conscience that they actually possess in order to indulge. They put their moral compass in a drawer, out if sight. Out of mind.

Being unexpectedly caught in the act of something you already disapprove would no doubt be a sobering experience. It would bring someone to a lucidity that they previously evaded or ignored through their "drug of choice" behavior.

My point is: being caught does not of necessity mean insincerity in remorse for what one has been caught doing.

Dream Sequence

I went to the cafe/bar with my friends. I believe it was also a cybercafe. Simple, wooden tables. Like an unpretentious dive in mexico. Just a place. Waiter comes over, and as we order big-kid drinks, he pulls out a case where we will store our id's and enter our thumbprint. When we retrieve our id's, our thumbprints will have to match. Simple enough, but I prefer to grab a soda. If anything happens and I have to run out, I'd rather already have what I need on me and not have to scavenge a corpse for it.

I follow Daniel and Jenny, my asian-looking mexican friends throughout town. They're honest. Simple. Genuine. Among the destinations is a shinto-style school. Where they perform a ritual directed by the instructors, but begin to deviate and do it their way, expressing themselves. There are gravity defying acrobatics. There are colors. Things look animated.

It reminds me of Duck Season...good movie.

An Addict's Pennance

I want to be punished. I don't want things that give me pleasure. Friends, good food, a warm bed, hot showers.

I have been invited to join a business venture in something that I enjoy. Something that would also be quite reputable. In an industry I admire, using a lot of the talents that come naturally to me. That I've honed, and that bring me joy. Writing among them.

Besides the 'normal' (if there is such a word) factors that would slow someone down when being excited about going into a business (e.g.: the need for capital, proper research, thought-out plans with various contingencies), there is another conflict. I'm not excited about it.

Its fun to think about. Its great to long for it. But to think of it as a possibility feels undeserved. I shut down. I get gripped by a cocktail mix of anxiety, apathy, irritability, mistrust, and regret when I think about it. I don't want to commit energy to something that could potentially fulfill me or make me happy because, contrary to personal evidence, I don't believe it will fulfill me or make me happy.

So I make myself out to be this suffering martyr. "I cannot enjoy life because I'm paying for my sins." Very romantic. Very self-indulgent. That is what bothers me. Not that a goal is out of reach, not that I lack the capital to simply throw myself into a project and see where it leads. What bothers me is that I feel unworthy of prospects that might make me happy.

Its a lot like flirting. Its fun to flirt, fun to dream and hope for a meaningful relationship. But when things begin to involve any kind of commitment, other people seem to lose interest in me. I was about to write that last sentence the other way around, stating that I lose interest out of subconscious fear or unworthiness that translates itself into apathy, lack of attraction, or boredom on the surface. But it just hit me, just now, that it has been the opposite. I do step out. I do open myself to where something might lead, even if I'm not convinced that they're right for me, or any variation of the "the one" philosophy. And something happens, the littlest thing. A rescheduled date, a week or so without return communication, things that I interpret to be a sign of the same disinterest and apathy I sometimes put on others or on things. And then I violently recoil.

I turn back into a shell and surround myself with things that hurt me in order to reinforce the idea of undeserving. In order to run away from the here and now, and simply archive the presently perceived rejection as part of a macro-cosmic order of things pertaining to the undeserving. The accursed. Again, eager to romanticize reality. It is like a religion used to explain war, or a drought, or a childhood/genetic makeup that results in addiction, or heartbreak...anything except the combination of accountability for choices and the fact that some things, like weather phenomena, just happen.

Perhaps that's what I like about diet and exercise so much. It isn't what I crave, and involves a light amount of physical stress, pain, and self-denial. It would feel like being punished.

Things could have turned out differently. I might have ended up dead, or in jail. Forced into a rehabilitation center. Somewhere that someone else's orders and not my own discipline or motivation keep me clean, and learning, strengthening my body, mind, and spirit.

I'm too exhausted to examine these thoughts. To identify the assumptions and look at them from different perspectives. And I think that's okay. I can print this out and go through it later. Its likely an important step to just put all of this down. In any case, for better or worse, this is how it happens. This is what I write. This is the day that I have.

I'm writing here what I cannot tell you in person. In a world of reality, a person does himself no service by fanciful dreaming. But realistic optimism takes much temperance and restraint on my part. I am a fanciful dreamer.

Every day I exercise. I work. I study. I create. I do everything in my power to temporarily avert my mind's gaze from your eyes. Your voice. Your thoughts. It helps. It helps marvelously. And just when I had begun to forget you, miraculously, out of character, you appear again. More than likely, just as a friend. Realistically, that's the most probable outcome for our continued relationship, if it is to continue at all.

At my best and strongest moments, that is enough for me. In fact, the thought of never seeing you again is a reality as acceptable as a sunset or a debt needing repayment.

But at my weakest, at my vulnerable moments, I would wish for the opportunity to get to know you all over again. To introduce myself to you. To assume that the old strengths I've unearthed from myself as well as the new strengths I've discovered and developed would somehow change the way that you see me. And as we both recovered from lifelong wounds, we would forge a friendship that would become a bond stronger than most.

Yet I dream. And I know that upon awakening I'll find what I've always found. Life isn't ideal.

This no longer depresses, me, however. I do not need an ideal life in order to love living. In order to work towards building myself a true, honorable man that I can be proud to call "me."

Still, healthy habits are exhausting. Living honorably is exhausting, and seldom rewarded by anything outside inner peace and the love of close friends and family.

I am filled with gratitude for the people that make up that group. And still, a quiet calm voice whispers longingly for you to be among them. So that when I'm wounded, even though I myself possess the strength to heal and rise and continue onward, I might still have you to help tend the wound. To sing to me of your own victories and travels, igniting heart and aiding to focus mind on the battles at hand.

It may be vain to think of such things. But what child of the sun has ever had full control over their dreams?

I now only long to quiet that longing for a new beginning with you by setting these words to type out my emotions onto this digital confidante. That way, I can continue living and surviving, building mind and body and heart and household, unencumbered by those fanciful dreams that would take the place of a more realistic optimism.

"I cannot stay within these walls, gaze upon you every day, and be denied your touch. I've never turned from challenge, yet I am without strength to face this one."

How well those words hit close to heart. And from such an unlikely source. It seems the world is not yet without good writers in different positions. That brings warmth to heart as well.

It pains me to let go of you. But I know its for the best. I will not force anything to bring us together. But I won't hide from it, if it should happen, either. I won't hurry towards us meeting, but I won't run away from it. I will live with the assumption that we'll never meet again. And if we do, that cordial friends is all we'll be able to be, all you'll see me as, and I you. As much as I'd love to shout from my chest that if ever an accidental spark was reignited, I would move heaven and earth within me and in the world to make things work, those are empty words. Words of a dream.

I will not build my life on that hope.

But I will build a life. I will build a man. A man ready for whatever happens to come his way...

Septermber 22, 2012

I haven't written in this blog for a long time. Or in a journal...a real journal, that is. I take notes and sketch and stuff, but I haven't really written for myself in a long time.
I was going to get up early today to go to a yoga event. Free yoga, free healthy food, 1/2 off membership passes, which I was considering buying. The classes are reasonably priced as it is, and at half off for heated yoga, candle yoga, and all the different variations they offer, I'd be crazy not to. ...that's what a functioning person would think, anyway.
But today I'm not functioning. I'm not interesting, or clever, or groomed, or handsome. Today I'm everything I've always been, and everything I've always wanted to be more than.
Today is one of those days where I'm too tired to be strong.
I can't pretend today.
I can't trick myself into being okay with all the loss I feel. I can't pretend not to miss her. Or her. Or her. Especially not her. Or him. Today, my body is telling me that it is time to grieve.
As my brother sings at the top of his out-of-tune lungs "Don't you want me baby?!?" from the other side of my parents' house, I realize that for almost 4 months, I've been living back with my parents.
I'm not ungrateful, nor do I fail to recognize that many people do this and that in no way makes them weaker or less attractive, its just a set of normal circumstances. But despite all my efforts to blend in and be one of the group, I want to be more than normal. Superhuman. Superman.
But I'm tired, and tights hurt and ride up in all the wrong places, and if I'm not true to my diet and workout schedule, they can be very unfriendly for all the wrong reasons.
So no cape and cowl today. At least not until later on, because pretending is a better drug than hope. When you pretend, its as if the things that normal people hope for are already real. And that feels good.
I think I've always misunderstood relationships.
I have very few that I feel are mutual. True friends, and I'm far away from all of them.
When I meditate, I tell myself that separation is an illusion, that we're always near each other, all of us. On strong days, I believe it enough to pretend hard enough to make it through the day sure of myself.
But today I just want to accept the fact that the people I love are far away, that there's little I can do about it, and that if I acknowledge that it hurts...it doesn't make me less valuable to them, or to others, or to myself.
The stronger party is the one that is okay with walking away. I cherish the people that I don't have to be stronger than. The people that accept that somedays i'm stronger, some days they're stronger, but no matter what shape the other is in, we still like being around each other.
I wish that any of my romantic relationships could have been like that. Maybe some of them were, and I'm being too self-indulgent to see it at the moment. Again, I'm not trying to be ungrateful for what I've had and shared with others. I just would like to look at my empty hands and let myself cry instead of telling myself that the air is enough, that emptiness is fulfillment, that Lao Tsu understands me.
I have progressed a lot, and achieved a lot, but today I'm just sad. I can be sad every once in a while, the world is enough of a mess of a place for me to be sad. Its beautiful enough to be happy as well, but today seems to be for sadness.
Green tea with drops of lemon oil are a welcome little pleasure.
I do not live in an ideal world. I also do not live in the worst-case scenario. I live. And living has its ups and downs.
Friends do a lot to help through the waves.
Perhaps solitude is helping me develop a little more backbone, so I can be a more valuable friends to the people who don't care whether I'm valuable or not. Those are the people worth improving myself for. I need to be among them. I need to love and accept me, so that I can work hard to be better for me.
Sometimes I think of myself as a guardian to my inner child. As an exercise to be aware of my awareness and relate to myself, communicate with myself, love myself.
So today little David is crying, and I'm not going to pretend he's not. I'm not going to go out on the town, and flirt with pretty girls, or go to the movies, until I've given inner-child-David enough of a hug, and reassured him that even if things don't turn out okay, everything will turn out okay. Because not okay is okay. Whatever happens is okay, because we're together and we listen to each other and love each other and take care of each other. And when we die, we'll die together, and I'm never going to leave him again.

Brainstorm for the Great I Am

I am no stranger to violence, never have been. The sad thing is that unlike so many other stimuli that repeatedly rear their reality-bound presence, familiarity does not make each exposure less affecting of my psyche.
I am, unfortunately or not, no stranger to silence. To a vacuum in the place of embrace. Self-imposed solitude or strangers shaking hands with a costume, it feels the same.
I am a stranger to reality, unable to release my attachment to an ideal that has been sold to me and forced down my throat since birth until reality itself can never be anything more than disappointing. All for what? to spend a potentially free lifetime spending my time and my energy in pursuit of the unattainable.

Thoughts on Quad C Theatre

First of all, what a pretentious name for a blog, right? David's Karmalized Grind
Hey guys, david is into buddhism and kharma and crap and also likes coffee.
What a pompous self-marketing routine. I couldn't just call it David's blog.
Anyway.
A few words about Collin County Community College Theatre. Well, Collin
College Theatre as it is now called, people apparently get peeved when someone
still refers to it as a community college. Which is my point, the thought behind this post.

I think that one of the things that I learned the most from Quad C theatre, is the
ability to look at the actual value of something through the wrapping. Its something
that puts you on the road to not caring so much about people's opinions and doing
what feels right to you. Not an easy thing to do. And sometimes, what feels right
is definitely absolutely not right. But in those cases, if you have the mental instability
and stubbornness and tenacity to still do it, you'll find out that it was wrong, and if
you're smart, you'll make the necessary adjustments.

In this case, nothing could be more right. People gave me crap all the time for doing
theatre, learning theatre, learning to develop a craft, at a community college.
Quad C's theatre department is filled, overflowing, with talented, dedicated, generous
artists and educators who have the hunger and the drive of a winning sports team.
It is one of the best decisions of my life and career to have not only taken classes
there, but also, once i realized the value of what i was getting, pay attention. And
take those lessons to heart.

An enormous amount of gratitude goes out to all my teachers, mentors, and friends,
who taught me so much about myself, especially in teaching me that I have so much
to teach myself about who David is and what David wants and what he has to offer.
Thats invaluable. And it doesn't come from a coddling director who is going to be
there to ice your wrist when you pitch a fast ball that tweaked a bit, or who seems
to be there to nourish your feelings. Its going to be from the people who demand
that you treat yourself like the adult you are, that you respect their time and yours,
and will, when necessary, tolerate it if you don't give your best, but if enough time
goes by that you don't, they'll respond accordingly. You do not give less than your
best at anything. Sometimes, we have rough patches when energy needs to go to other
things, sure. But if the focus does not come back and stay where you promised it
was going to be. They will move on. And thats what keeps me motivated. I have
abandonment issues, and don't want to get left behind by the train I want to ride.
I don't want to get left behind by my own potential.

Going Forward

It is hard. It is the definition of difficulty as described
in the human language. Now it is felt with tremendous
force, sending sirens and shockwaves through the system
of life and the world as perceived by my puny mind.

It feels impossible. Impassive in its arrays of onslaughts
against my vulnerable self-esteem, and identity itself
gives way; Not to be destroyed, but to evolve.

How does one desire evolution and a higher destiny
when its easy and even everlastingly pleasurable to
waste life in the company of Odyssus' crew on a patch
of mushrooms of forgetfulness, Callypso's Island?

I could have everything I crave at a moments beck and call
and forever silence the still small, yet somehow less
soothing voice of my soul yearning for its kingdom.

The sirens' sultry song stays still as sweet
As that of wine that brings me to the feet
of slav'ry. Once for all to finally kill
the measure of my destiny, and ill-
lived, try to lay my heart to rest. But "NO!"
screams out that voice again, that boy who O
so long ago believed in Cam'lot's dream.
He will not silenc'd be, he'll kick! His screams
and warriors' wails, his lions' roars will shake
the walls cause tremors in the floors! He'll take
his crown from the Fates' Fiery fangs and die
for virtue's sake, for honor lost, he'll try
just one more time to be the the Man Apart
A King, e'en if alone, with broken heart.

Letter to Vlad: One day at a Time

one day at a time, its alright. the mountains are beautiful. it hurts a whole lot. for lots of different reasons. but on some level, it feels right. overdue.
but i couldnt put into words how much it hurt. just ripped me apart, the whole time wanting to turn back. I'll tell you one thing, it helped me to really appreciate everything i took for granted bck home.
even things i thought i was sick of or hated. the phrase "count your blessings" never made as much sense to me as this past week, which feels like months to me.
and i've realized how unfair i've been to our friend [removed]. she trolls hard, thats for sure. and that has always hurt a little bit. hahahaha. but in the end, she's who she is, and i love her as a friend for who she is. if i have greater feelings for her, well i got the chance to let them out and let her know. that needs to be enough. theres no real need to drag the whole mess on, is there? although I have to tell you, who can surely understand even though its illogical. that i love her greatly. and always will. but am enough of a man to know i have to set that aside. its life.  and you cant ask people for what they dont have in their hearts. people have asked me and asked you for what we didnt have for them. it wasnt their fault. it wasnt ours. some things just are what they are, and aren't what they aren't. 
i'm closer to being at peace with that. one day at a time.

Ode of Gratitude to Friendship

there are certain people that come into our lives. who are capable of seeing our struggles, our hearts, our joys and sorrows without needing them defined. Who do not judge our mistakes. Who celebrate our victories. Who ask for nothing in return for their sacrifice, even though our own sacrifice can heal them as well. Sometimes these people are in our lives only briefly. but they engrave their names with fire in our hearts, so that those letters, gold and brilliant, shine through the darkness of the world around us. 
All i can express at the moment is a profound gratitude for those people. And a sincere wish that they experience the moments of happiness and love that they deserve.

Am I Having a Quarter Life Crisis?

about every eight hours, yeah. i actually felt a lot better after going ona hike. i was able to map things out logically instead of just responding emotionally to every stimulus. so that was good. its just gonna take a little focus and discipline. Truth is, this has been a character flaw that has been with me for some time, but i can definitely see in myself that i'm handling it better and better; I feel pretty close to being able to deal it with it and live productively. Think A Beautiful Mind...without the imaginary people. just the emotional aspect of it. Learn to deal with it and function. I usually last anywhere from 8 months to almost two years before I have a meltdown and do something a little drastic. This time there were a lot more external influences. but its good practice. When I'm married and have a family, this kind of behavior won't fly. A least not in the same way. So i'm glad to be able to be going through it and seeing what i can be doing better each step of the way. I guess I should say IF though. as theres really no conclusive indication that THAT's ever going to happen. Might be nice though, having a family.

Ravings of a Lost Lunatic: Part 1

Theres a lot I want to write out.
So much in there, needing an exit.
I don't want to stop loving you. That's the easiest path.
Not sure if what i'm feeling deals with sorrow or with wrath
at myself for not doing things a different way
I don't even know what I would like for you to say.
You should just know how much you brightened up each day
of my life
through toil and strife
feeling my existence was a knife
against my throat, the end of my rope,
until your voice gives me the thing i've been drowning for: hope.
I cant expect or demand for you to feel the same way
part of me wants to, and i fight hard to keep that at bay
so i scream and i shout, then i whimper, then pray
Slam my fists into punching bags, run laps to get away
from myself, and as i go crazy, trying not to blow up your phone
knowing how many guys before didnt know how to leave you alone
and how that made you feel
its so surreal,
that now I'm the squeaky wheel, trying to get the grease
idiotically ignoring that I'm in the way of your peace
like a disease that you catch when you're trying to catch zzzz's.
I dont know what excuse to make.
im not normally like this, do I blame kharma or fate?
im used to keeping a cryogenic level of cool, so now i equate
my behavior to that of a fool.
at the bottom of it all. I just yearn to know that you understand.
i'm not trolling on purpose, its hard being a man.
be patient with me while i go through this hellish ride
i dont want to without my best friend by my side.

Letter Undelivered

It wouldn't be fair to you to tell you how happy you make me.
Or to say that I'd be prepared to give all of my time, life, and energy.

It wouldn't be fair, but I"m caught in this snare
of golden threads, perfumed, like your hair.
It wouldn't be nice to tell you your eyes,
deeper than oceans, blue as the skies
give me the hope that one day I might rise
to be more than I am today. Now wouldn't that be nice?

Somewhere inside the condemned structure of my heart
there's a dying fire that hears your laughter and comes back to a start.
What comes to me naturally is forbidden, that's plain to see.
To kiss your cheek bringing you back from your sleep,
see your eyes open for the first time that day.
Would you smile at that moment? Would you push me away?

I re-teach myself everyday to live in a world where you aren't so near.
I know that one day you'll no longer be here.
So my heart has to learn to be used to the thought
that some things can be and others can not.
And my soul breaks a little more each day
and heals itself again like a phoenix. Some say
that the thing to do is confess these things to you.
It might not be fair, though. What would you do?

I don't want to keep closing myself from you in order to keep my sanity.
When I ask to be remembered, I know its vanity of vanities,
but I promised you once I'd never ask for anything more.
People take so much from you, so how could I, when I adore
everything about you, even the things that you don't like?
Everything you are gives me withdrawals from the mic.
I need to express the way your smile soothes my stress,
how our talks are intimate and passionate like our souls playing chess,
and top of that...
the way you look in that dress. :)

Cigarettes, coffee, bourbon, and weed
all help me cope, but they're not what I need.
Peace in myself is what I strive to desire,
but it's hard to want stillness when you set me on fire.
My heart leaps, I perspire. The not-so-secret admirer
keeps coming back to this obsession,
chaotic and beautiful like bebop jazz sessions.

Did I mention you make me want to give you my life?
I'm not throwin' around words like husband and wife.
That's another chapter, another  book, a different world altogether.
I just know my unflinching loyalty and what's left of my heart
would be yours if we'd ever get a chance to be together.

Made of Cardboard

 ive seen work done with cardboard stencils, which when acted upon by aerosol spray (commonly used for graffitti art) is transformed into nearly anything the artists want it to be. It is an ordinary, unvaluable object, turned into something beautiful and with purpose by someone with vision and heart. we should all be so lucky as to be cardboard.

A Perfect World

I dreamed last night of a perfect world.

In a perfect world, you go and fight your battles. I would go and fight mine.

And we would return to a sacred place and rest upon one another.
 We would discover each other through our bodies and our minds.
 Express our soul’s joy and anguish without preoccupation, anxiety,
expectation, or insecurity.
There would be no room for it.

Then the next day would come, because the world would not stop spinning,
 even if we felt that it did.
And we would go out onto battle again to conquer new worlds,
 new mountains, new demons.

And returning again, you would let your eyes quench my thirst.
I would let my breath and warmth fill your apetite.
We’d satiate each other’s hunger for life.
 And our hearts would pound out the soreness and sorrows of the battlefield.

We never spoke a word.

Reflexion Dolorosa

Al encontrarme con un exceso de informacion, escribo.
Escribo por que es todo lo que se hacer.
Todo lo que da libertad a una voz que no es mia,
sin embargo no es de nadie mas, pues sale de mi.
Con la evidencia presentada ante el jurado,
concluyo que es la voz del universo, bajando la cabeza
hasta salir por medio del pensamiento mio.
Con esta voz me desahogo.
Con esta voz me critico a mi mismo.
Me alago.
Me insulto yo solo.
Te exclamo adoraciones
y maldigo en tu nombre.
Prometo nunca poder apartarme de tu lado,
y juro nunca jamas volver a verte ni pensar
en ti.
Si tan solo esta voz estuviera en mis brazos
o en mis piernas.
para tener fuerzas para correr y mover montañas.
pero teniendo a esta voz en mi mente y en mi boca,
solo logro volverme loco, perder sueño, y hablar tonterias.
Me someto a respirar y suspirar, con las esperanzas de que
el aire fresco limpie de alguna manera mi mente,
mi sangre, mi alma.
Me siento atazcado de sonido estatico, como un televisor viejo,
sin canal, con el volumen demasiado alto.
Y aunque pensar en ti me trae alivio temporario,
recordar lo lejos que estas
de quererme
me trae un desalivio todavia mas grande y desesperante.

Not So Secret Admirer

The tectonic plates tend to shift the terra firma
 inside of me when you walk by.

Mixed with pride, professionalism, and feelings of inadequacy,
 I do everything I can to avoid you while my job keeps me passing by you.
Being near you.
Everytime I am, I feel I get a glimpse of everything
 that I could ever want
 in another human being.

Let me slide gender aside for the space of time
that it takes my mind to recognize

that even if you weren't the most beautiful girl in the world
you carry the paragon

of what human beings should aspire to be
both as physical creatures and as spiritual entities.

The confidence that radiates
from your very footsteps
leaves prints of those steps in my mind.

Let me rewind time and
find the sublime rhyme that
would give justice
to this experience of mine

Because you make my heart go

hip, hop, hibbie, hibbie to the hip hip hop

it dont stop rockin to tha bang bang boogie

so up jumped my heart to the rhythm of THAT boogedie beat.

Only difference is that this IS a test.
One that I doubt I can best.
Believe that this restlessness

takes hold of all of my insecurities and fears.
And forces me to come face to face with myself.

I have no choice but to hold myself accountable
for the person that I am today.
For procrastinating my life away.
For not feeling ready today
 to step up to the plate, look right at you and say....

What would I even have to say?
Hi? I hope you're having a good day?

Because people like you make my day great.
You are so mindshatteringly breathtaking
that after months of barely writing anything
I have the unflinching need
to write a poem about things I could

never dream of saying to you out loud
but that need to get out
and be spoken and heard, even if its just through spoken word
so that I dont scream and explode. So I breathe and emote
and do my best to be true
to...whatever higher power
or inner power I feel accountable to.
I know its somewhere.
This over-soul,
this god that I pray to.

This watchful parent that I carry inside of me,
that fills me with gratitude for things like you
and with the need to improve
when I....need to improve.

That is what you've connected me to.
And most days I wish I was stronger,
and colder,
and too hard to be affected in this way by you
or the few other things that make me feel this way too.

But its who I am.
And I cannot walk my journey in another man's shoes.
I'd be lost my whole life if I let myself choose
to live life as somebody else.
God knows I've tried,
and I'm constantly tempted.

But once in a while I find my faith resurrected.
And I practice integrity.

That’s why I'm here.
Instead of a night shift I'm working the mic.
Because even though money and raises are nice.
They dont give me release like I need to survive.
When I coexist in this world with angels like you.

I sing you a poem, and not-so-secretly, admire you.

Inspiration Begets Creation

There need to be moments of creation that follow inspiration.

The gluttonous side of us wants to keep filling ourselves with more of whatever inspired us: music by a certain artist, paintings, books, films, theatre, poetry, food, sex, drugs.

We get a good feeling (or one we perceive as good) and we want to gorge ourselves of this.

But if we quiet our own background noise we will hear our heart and our soul and our mind and our body tell us that it wants to not only express the feelings aroused by this inspiration, but create something.

We desire to give birth to a dance, a ritual.
A dish.
A poem.

But most of the time we cannot even hear this longing, much less satiate it.

We wonder why we go through our day feeling a certain hunger and thirst for something we cannot quite identify.

We gather this energy and let it be stagnant like putrid blood that decays and stinks and spreads disease.

This energy causes us a great negative anxiety.
A depression.
Violent sways in our mood.
Confusion.
Tedium.
Instability.

When all we need to do is exercise patience and create.

Put aside the need to consume.
The urgent lust for too much of a good thing.

And so, while a part of me would rather be reading more and more posts by one of the wisest teachers whose work I've experienced, I take a moment to express.
To create.
To react.
To leave my footprint in the energy current of the world,
and thus
the universe.

Sometimes

Sometimes I just need to write to right my wrongs
Emotions too strong for broadway songs.

I shake and quake, tempted to act fake but too scared to tempt fate.

The best thing I can show
is the will to let go
of the steering mechanisms in my mind
as I try to find the truly sublime. A source of healing and light
inside the war that I fight: with myself, with the world, with my family and friends.
The end never ends and the oak never bends.
It just lets itself shatter when the wind howls its chatter,
unable to let flexibility of mind step in instead of stubborn obsession with control.

My heart beats faster. My blood pumps blasts
of  terrible evangelical hormonal chemicals
into the streams of my consciousness
dreams of monotonous routines
stepping aside to make way
for reams of paper

filled to the brink with savory

Ink that expresses what all other communication fails to sink

into the heart of humanity. At least as I perceive it.
I dish out my insanity, but theres no one to receive it

and translate the beauty from out of the chaos.

Its nobody’s duty, but still I would pay awesome

sums of money, sweat, tears, and blood

for someone who can take my fears from my gut
and lull me to sleep with a soft tender hand.
so I don’t wonder if tomorrow the power to stand
will be in me or not. My will’s in a knot;

noone here to untie me.
Im no Houdini though the thought passes by me

to pretend to be someone I’m not in order to further my plot

for world domination
so I can stop being the one caught

under the soles of your shoes.
I’m slanging the blues

In a black and white world
with no color, no hues of greener grass
on your side of the gate

is this our reality or is this my fate?
to be gasping for air, for just a chance to prepare

A life for myself? maybe one I can share

With somebody who'd care
when I’m glad, when I’m scared?

Somebody who’s there

With whom I can be bare.

Excerpts from an Old Journal: Headphone Sanctuary

The throbbing of the speakers pounds in my ears
and the force from that source pulverizes my fears

And I breathe
And I feel
And I open my eyes

As my lungs expand like wings helping me rise
Above the anger and envy that strive
to take over my life

Like a god upon the hour of his awakening I become
Universally aware.

And I See
And I hear
And I comprehend

It feels so sweet.

Haiku

i am a lost soul

howling at the azure moon

yearning for something

Excerpts from an Old Journal: Love Poem in Two Acts

ACT I

This is part love poem
part song with no melody
just rhythm                                          with talented back up harmony
It is part nervous rant
IT is part proof to myself that I have something to say.
It is part proof to you that you have something to listen to.

Just like I am part proof that my Ancestors were once alive

Just like this poem is part proof that it was worth it.....

ACT II

The fibers on the couch and the cushion of its pillows help me relax as i look at you

Beautiful

The sight of you, the feel,
your texture in laughter
and the tension of your stress.

The tightening of your muscles.
Your heartbeat,
drums pounding through tender silence,

the sound of you.

Like the smell of you.
Misplaced flower.

Visited by an urban bee
 who simply observes and admires,
despising the distance as much as his desire.

My inadequacy keeps me from fully discovering you

I love all your beauty and all your sadness.

Excerpts from an Old Journal: "No Man is an Island"

"No man is an island," that truth has been spoken
how long will we ignore the bruisedm, beaten, and broken?
You've got to uplift, make the world a better place
dont worry about the money, or the gender, or the race
of the person in fron of you, just realize they're alive.
So if you're not afraid, then receive my poem's vibe.
What is this negativity in all the world movements?
We've got to step back and take a look at the blueprints
of our lives, open your eyes, take a look at our youth,
they're buying babylon's lies and forsaking the truth--
faith, hope, love, & charity: these things are realities,
core elements of a genuine personality.
Cultivate your soul! See, we seek to rely
on each other. to make it through the storms and survive,
lift up the hands that hang hopelessly down,
"nobody's an island," so quit clowning around.
That truth has been spoken, shouted, and uttered,
"NO man's an island," did i st- st- stutter?
If you're focused on yourself, then you're bound fro depression.
Looking out for one another never hits a recession.
So invest in the rest, in the people all around you.
put their best to the test, and they're sure to astound you.
We were sent by the soul of the world to inspire,
my poem and I are igniting a fire.
Cuz i was sent by the soul of the world to raise my voice
to them with ears to hear, to them who'll make a choice.
"no man's an island" that truth has been spoken,
so STOP IGNORING THE BRUISED, THE BEATEN, AND BROKEN!!!

From an Old Journal: A Much Delayed Trip

A much delayed trip
on a road leading home
The once sunken ship
no longer alone.
The first bites of freedom
The first steps of truth
an old, ancient kingdom
made of ancient roots.

Enjoying the moment,
breathing the air
looking at things no one
ever knew were there.
Hoping for something
I think I will see.
Wonderin if finally
there'll be wholeness for me.

Waiting in Line

waiting in line
a step at a time
wanting to make dollars 'stead of nickels and dimes
having to wait
makin' me late
no excuse to leave cuz I already ate.
but I keep myself  waiting in a slow-moving line
just to fight for things I feel are rightfully mine--
so I breathe and I stretch and I pop my neck
and try to stand in one place e'en tho' it puts me thru heck--
so wut do I do?
i got the no transcript blues,
& I'd do whutever to whoever just for nicer shoes.
u gotta fill out papers if u wanna make that paper
but I'm late for the job I do have and this line'll make me late-er

Principio

El comienzo de cualquier cosa, ya sea un libro, une poema, una aventura, siempre tendra los elementos del amanecer.
Un elemento de lo desconocido.
Mas y mas luz.
Entusiasmo.
Juventud Mental y Emocional.
Revelacion.

Gingrich South Carolina Primary

So Newt Gingrich completely blew everyone apart at the SC primary, making him Romney's biggest competition as far as the GOP is concerned.
Despite the momentum that Gingrich is seeming to build up, I still stick to my Romney prediction. One thing's for sure: it will be increasingly interesting to see how this all plays out.

Musings of a Late Sunday Morning

Its amazing how fast gears can change.
How hard a shift can come on so suddenly.
But it does.

All the time.

I wonder if I can try to be the one constant in my own life.
Even with ever-present evolution.
to be something I can believe in.
And it hits me
just like that.
I'm looking to believe in myself.

Seems so simple.
Like somchildhood answer from an afternoon PBS
show.
But only I know what my thoughts exactly mean to me.

And this one carries a lot of weight.
Because I found it when I didn't
know that it was what I was looking for all along.

Presidential Prediction

With Rick Perry out of the race (which may or may not be a relief for people who value education and have seen what Texas has been going through), my money is completely on Mitt Romney. I'm not going to vote for him, but I've got that feeling in my gut like the when you get when you're picking fruit at the market. You just know.

Coming of the Fawn: A Poem Written for Anziano Jorge Cuellar in an Email

Step by step I outrun the nightmare I'm from
the guns, the larcenous man,  and the drugs.
I lift myself to cleaner air and then
build myself a cave to remember when
I fought for the food to survive the rough winters
a soldier of fools that tried to be the winner
of bread that was already too stale to swallow
a wolf in sheeps clothing with no shepherd to follow
with no pack to report to, nothing to gain
just the money in my pocket and my thirst for fame
hungry enough for power to devour my friends
taking down my ally never knowing where the end
of the road of self-destruction might lead any day
I'll be lost without companions to follow to the fray
and the drums of the battle-march only get louder
as I build myself a cave that will serve till the shout of
war comes again and I cannot deny it
pick up the sword and swing as I fight again
the death of my enemies will regain me my honor
my fallen foes herald the coming of the fawn.