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What are your intentions?

Perhaps I am just too sensitive.  Perhaps I care too much and I am too angry and that is the reason why I am sitting here writing this on a Sunday morning when I should be out enjoying this beautiful weather.  Perhaps it’s because I think too much, read too much and I tend to look at life’s circumstances from thousands of different angles too much.  Perhaps I’m just annoyed that those not with the highest of sense but with the loudest of voices are the ones who get heard, who shape our civilization.

Perhaps it’s because when I get angry at you, you tell me to relax and that I must understand you, I must compromise, I must be the bigger person.  Yet, when you get angry at me, somehow, it is always justified.

When have I ever proposed that you should be put to death for disagreeing with me?  When have I ever told you that you should be beaten and arrested for believing in what you believe in?  When have I ever told you that you deserve to be followed, tortured, electrocuted for your morals and for your honest, deepest convictions?

When I was younger, there were so many principles I believed in; an endless list.  It’s what we do in our youth.  We’re ideological, we’re passionate, we have boundless energy and we often see things in life very clear cut, very black and white.  As I have gotten older, I have learned to strip away a lot of those “principles” and hone in on what really defines me.  At this crossroad in my life, there really is only one principle that I whole-heartedly reject in a human being and one principle I utterly revere.  Respectively, they are hypocrisy and integrity.

I often try to live up to this statement in my own life and I understand that, at times, I flounder in my quest.  I can be a hypocrite and I have made decisions in my life that have stripped me of much of my integrity.  I am human, as everyone is.  I consider this awareness of my faults as a gift, though; a unique, beautiful gift that I have and that I know a lot of people in this world have as well.

So, what’s the difference?

Intention.

If you have ever complained about something not being right with this country, whether it be the banking system or education or corruption, it is intentionally hypocritical of you to condone the beating of a protestor who repeatedly is out there fighting to change that corruption.  If you are in favor military conflict (war), in any realm, it is intentionally hypocritical of you to ever display violent anger at a person who is in favor of bringing about the death of another person or an unborn fetus.  If you are dedicated to your faith, your God, your scripture, it is intentionally hypocritical of you to cast the first stone and not love all people unconditionally.  And the summation of your hypocrisies creates the integrity of which you live your life by.

So, before you go on your rant to attack me, think…Do your beliefs and your intentions pair evenly with your words and your actions?  If not, is it possible that you could be a hypocrite?  And, if you discover that it does, are you willing to put aside the Ego and the Pride to salvage your integrity and understand that you are the sum of all of your beliefs?

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the new day

this morning I woke up

fell asleep a few more times

but eventually

I woke up

last night I drifted off

sober

beaten

excited for a new day

(supposed to be warm; peeks of Spring)

and that was reason enough to turn in

quickly

You see

I often look forward to sleep

it is the one time of the day when I am at peace

I stop my mind

the thinking one

it is where I allow myself to dream

to be happy

to be curious

to take chances

to force myself to stop being lonely

it is the only time of the day

when I am feeling I am doing what is right

correct

but tonight

I am excited

excited for a new day

(supposed to be warm, inviting)

so I rush to sleep

so I could rush to wake

hoping to rise to something different

this morning I woke up

fell asleep a few more times

as most mornings

and nothing changed

everyday

when I open my eyes

rather than reality

I see paths

rather than a room, an apartment, a city

I see roads

endless roads all commencing at the foot of my bed

Past these paths

endless new ones

converging like capillaries

branching out the opportunities life has available

from these roots

from the safety of where I was sleeping

Once I claim one

feet in the dirt

the rest turn to vapor, dissolve

my day has begun

with every step

I change my direction

I look past my movements

upon all the decisions ahead of me

and choose

all day

I am not predestined

nor am I a coincidence

my life is not guarded by a path of god

I am not helpless

carried on by the good intentions of a higher spirit

I have control

because not all chaos is confusing

I lie there

in my bed

looking at the floor

the leaves and roots and barren branches of possibility

that extend through forests, oceans, skies and uncertainty

I breathe

clean the caked mucous from inside my eyes

sad my fantasy is over

my dream done

wishing I was still flying over clouds

existentially collaged, still

in love and fairy tales

I know the journey is over

lying there

I know I need to choose

I know I need to choose a new one

every step ends all things possible in life

revealing another opportunity

to travel on new paths

of all things possible

and even though I may sleep in the same bed

night after night

and though my routines are the same

day after day

and though I may feel as if my habits

dictate

either

healthy repetitions of success

or

restrictive patterns of destruction,

circumstance after circumstance,

nothing is ever the same

I work too hard

as I believe everyone does

to bring myself home

safe and consistent

better than that morning

when I took that first step

that first path

but it is all just opinion

to justify the achievements

and mistakes

from the journey

I walk towards sleep

towards being awake

I walk towards love

I walk towards success

towards honesty, towards adventure

I walk towards newly discovered nooks and crannies

of a life I seem too determined to conquer

and I often walk towards my individual destiny

picking up strangers along the way

leaving others behind

always hoping I chose right

and placing faith

in the instinct of my feet

So rather than condemning paths

that are scary

that seem the same as those previously traveled

that are intimidating

that make me too vulnerable

that detract from my individualism

that challenge me

that push me

I remember

these paths often allow me

to surprise myself

and reveal ideas

and realize a life

more magical

than this human soul could ever think possible

I still drift away in the darkness

flying over the heavens

but then I wake

deep breath

turn my body

and take new steps

fresh, beautiful, untouched dirt

a new day on earth

© 2012

af

remembrance

(*as a note, I am not against reposting, which is why I am bringing this one back.)

(**as a second note, i feel, in all of our political rhetoric and combat as of late, it seems that we have completely forgotten the tens of thousands soldiers still fighting around the world, still not given the chance to join in the argument.)

 

Remembrance


I heard a baby cry today and

it took me back to those days.

 

A simple gurgle of a teary scream from a child

too young to even speak

and the sound began blowing in my

eyes stinging and swarming

them so much I had to cry.

 

This pillar of strength

broke that easy from a distant

whimper down a dark alley.

 

I was walking down a street when I heard this

and fell into a hole two people deep with

firecracker blues lightin’ up the sky.

I fell into the dirt,

closed my eyes from the sandpiper’s

song that made me cry,

dropping my glass breaking on clay

retreats of my brother’s tumble weed,

smoking memories of reality into a

fairytale nightmare I was trying

not to remember.

 

I couldn’t find any way back after hearing

that silent prayer of

babies everywhere unable to

comprehend where their life just went

and I dug

through mud, concrete

tearing through fingernails and skinned

tips of my hands

clear to the bone

trying to escape this

dogfight.

 

“dear god, not again…”

 

Sun blasting holes through these khaki tears

like acid igniting the broken

rocks under my eyelids

rummaging under a sky of

independence like shooting stars

too close for this fragile slum to protect.

 

Screams in my ears pierce this battered soul

of mine as I heard that baby cry…

but I can’t save her…I can’t.

I can’t even see her because I am buried

under limbs unformed and

bodies unborn

and I’m drowning swimming through

these toddlers in the mud

who never asked for their chance to

be my bragging right…
but I was falling behind

and a bet’s a bet, I guess…

it’s not real if you can’t see it,

right?

 

Fuck me if it’s just a button I’m pushing

cause it’s gonna get me home to you, baby,

and I miss my child so much,

so desperate to see my first born that

I’ll press ‘em all if I have to

…if it’ll get me home sooner.

 

I pressed all those red and green and blue

flowered buttons,

poppin’ them like candy on Christmas

and the world fell silent with each

one gone and I sunk into a

vacuum of serenity…

a crucible of absolute peace with my creator

as we walked across the ocean back home to

become a family

one last time.

 

“Nothing happened that day,” they say,

cause I don’t remember a damn thing.

And with

my honor and

my pride

I believed them…

cause a soldier breathes from that

pillar of truth that stands strong

threaded in our flag of courage.

 

But then I walked past that alley

and I heard a baby cry today

and it took me back

and I opened my eyes

and I remembered why I forgot

 

 

 

© af 2005

Serenata Immortale

This is something that I have come across which was gifted to me from a friend and has inspired me immensely.  The music is quite powerful, and I had always seen it as an omen that this perfect example of my musical taste had come into my life.  This evening, I found this recording after forgetting about it for a long time, and decided to look up the lyrics.  Having now read them, I understand why I always felt this piece of music to be an omen.

And, to anyone who actually reads this blog, even looking forward to new writings, bear with me.  I am transitioning greatly in my life at the moment and I am practicing silence (somewhat) in working to understand it.

 

Serenata Immortale

Music and Lyrics by The Immediate

La flama fortuna                                            The fortune of burning love
La terra murmure                                          The earth rumbles
Un coro                                                            The wind blows
Serenata                                                           A chorus sings
Cantara mysterie                                            Sings this mystery

Dono dono dono gracia                                “A gift, a gift, a gift of grace
Dono dono adore                                            A gift, a gift, to adore
Dono dono infinatia                                       A gift, A gift, that will never end
Dono dono adore                                            A gift, a gift, to adore”!

La flama riposa                                                The flame rests
La ombra dispare                                            The shadow disappears
La dolce immortale                                         The sweet immortal
La voce murmure                                            The (passionate) voice grows low

Dono dono dono gracia                                  “A gift, a gift, a gift of grace
Dono dono adore                                             A gift, a gift, to adore
Dono dono infinatia                                        A gift, A gift, that will never end
Dono dono adore                                             A gift, a gift, to adore”!

Dono dono dono gracia                                  “A gift, a gift, a gift of grace
Dono dono adore                                             A gift, a gift, to adore
Dono dono infinatia                                        A gift, A gift, that will never end
Dono dono adore                                             A gift, a gift, to adore”!

 

a quote…for you

“If you are absent during my struggle, don’t expect to be present during my success.”  (Will Smith)

attempting to understand…

She was born perfectly beautiful. She was beaten and she was abused every step of the way, destructed by her own hand as well and yet, still, re-born even more perfect.  She survived and thrived when she should not have even been alive.

I saw her; I knew her and I admired her.  She was Venus.  She was stubborn, she was scared, she was gifted.  And she was love, protected safe in a petite body that was impenetrable.

And now, she is nothing more than a subject of my pity.

I have seen a lot of good people in my life go bad succumbing to peer pressure.  I have seen the bottom-dwellers hunt, the vultures circle and I have seen their prey naïve, unaware and helpless.  I might not be wise, but I am smart, and I see.  Once again, I have seen…

Peck by peck, I watched each of them tear off her flesh, bits at a time.  I saw that indestructible shield of hers get ravished from every angle, witnessed the slow massacre as I stood beside her as the lone soldier helping fight them off.  Night after night, I heard her pleas of help, crying from her own lips, as she tried to fight each and every one of them.  Each night I promised to never stop fighting.  Each day, she promised me life, forever.

Little did I know that words, to her, sounded better than integrity.  I understand now the trap I walked deeper and deeper into.

When a person desires to live under a blanket of self-loathing, no one can help pull him or her out.  At that point, the only thing that can get through is the voracious, insecure trash who need that person to survive, who need to destroy in order to help stop their own self driven disgust.  She was so determined to move on from her past that she walked full circle back into her tradition of mutilation.  The only difference now being that there are no fresh physical scars for her to understand her new reality.  Her wounds are now cloaked by the misplaced acceptance of the pack, bestowing upon them the encouragement to cut her deeper.

I believed in this lady more than I even believed in life itself.

And that lady is now gone, forever.

To share in love is bliss.  To love someone, alone, is suicide.

i hear you

i hear you

i close my eyes and i hear you

thousands and thousands of miles

your voice is as clear as your whisper in my ear

i have two pillows

because i need to hold you

when i lay in the darkness;

night after night when i cannot stop thinking

i need to wrap my arms around you

and believe i am not a fool

it was too much

i opened the door and in you came

you claimed ground

and i surrendered

my world embraced you

and we were so close to making it

but i heard the whispers

i never told you but i always knew

feeling the dozens of eyes of your confidants

drawing you away

as i faced them all helpless

begging you to grasp my feeble vulnerability

the moment i realized

i was wanted there by no one

and like hallowed out karmic creatures

that haunt a half-hearted life

i could only watch

them overwhelm you with their pressure

wishing you knew

what it took for me to fight them off

and i lie here

haunted by the faint noise of the carnival

that pulled you away from me

drawing with it all that life stood for

and i want you to know

i hear you

in the dead of night

whispering to me

clenching the pillow

drifting away

af

the truth

the truth

he says

 

son

it doesn’t exist

 

I can tell you a story

word for word

and it never happened

doesn’t exist

cause truth is pure reality

and reality is now

and now never exists

cause it keeps on passin’ by

with no taste

with no sound

with no scent

 

it just keeps on disappearing

and when you stare into the bottom

of that glass

and see the jaunted reflection

the screaming coming from

the silence

that has always existed

the sorrow

the heart wrenching

animosity

of memory

vs

ambition

you begin to peel away the skin

those precious layers

that youth clings to

and that dreams create

beliefs

create

fairy tales

create

delusions

create

relief

and one day

you look up

and your last 20 years are gone

and your last 20 days are left

and you stare at that puddle

and you wonder

what is it?

where has it gone and for what and why

and how has it gone with who and how come?

 

Then the trickle begins

You look up to that slobbering grin

whether it be her or him or you

and

well

you become grateful

cause the answers

are hidden under the water

 

the tears start

the pity rapes you

the organs implode

and the breath deepens

 

he stares into that one ounce glass

 

 

 

the truth is

 

one by one

tears refill it

and he stares

still

waiting

minutes

days

years

 

the truth

 

he slumps

one last time

drools and dreams

then

 

the truth…

what you think

it is

 

shoots

sleeps

and dissolves

 

doesn’t exist

 

 

 

af

thump thump

thump thump
silently staring at delusion poured through crystallized sand
lapping the splash off my hand
swallowing its bite

thump thump
as it burns, sliding down to my core
slicing through my senses
filtering my doubt as a warm spring shower

thump thump
my eyes peel off the oak
abducted by your doubtful stare
turning away and back nervously scared

thump thump
i feel him forgotten, with you looking for help
begging me for a hint of hope
denying yourself the breath you desire

thump thump
liquid salt dripping down your back
fresh wool scratching milky skin
hearts murmuring exposing your flesh

thump thump
as wanting lips gently glide over you, quivering
my tongue a slave to your every curve
nipping a neck neglected by his arrogance

thump thump
these lusts collide through sacred forbidden needs
existence evaporating within mystery
shrouded in shawls of servitude

thump thump
devoured in doubt, against will, void of sense
as hearts revolt against our conformity
risk delivers us together

thump thump
all is lost within the worlds we are creating
backs unite in a great wall pulsing for vengeance
and we, delirious, have redefined our existence

thump thump
two hearts diving the depth of the ocean
whispering the mantra of the ghosts and prophets…
So it goes

af

a quick trip

It was about rediscovering the back alley ghosts crooning from the jukebox, lost in the streets, livin’ for the American dream of freedom over poverty.

It was about not trying to be anything but rather trying to be someone.  ‘Bout sippin’ and trippin’ the days away with the dire threatening desire to be a moment by moment lover of the moment.

It was about feeling my body exhausted, my shoulders searing with pain, my eyes tearing to stay open, my motivation depleted, my thoughts blank yet still putting the ink to the tree to scrape some scratch of life to get me convinced once again that I have some purpose.

I asked someone where the beats were.  Where’s Vesuvius?  Where’s City Lights?  Where’s Trieste?  “You come here to be a writer, huh?”

And I say, “I am not sure what you imply.  Who I am is what I do.  What I ‘do’ can’t define me anymore.”

“Jerry mentioned you cut your hair.”

“Jerry mentioned that she never spoke again.”

Then I thought, What does it have to do with anything when rocking on the bentwood chipping the mosaic on the table top?

I ate one more marshmallow with another swig of wine and it began…the whisper…describe to me everything you saw…the breathe, the need to be loved through one of my stories…pieces, fragmented memories…thoughts are never continuous and dreams always linger like the fog surrounding the bay…

There was nothing.  And there was definitely no one there.  I stared into the breathing abyss, trying, with too much earnestness, to make something more of that moment.  But, only peeks of light cracked through that steel wall; There were peeks of light none-the-less.  And they always urged me towards them rather than away.  The waves of them etched into the sand like the winding story of a record that spiraled for reasons of insanity through absolute purity.

All around was utter silence.  Even the crashing foam of the salt waters made not a sound.  Glowing fog shadowed endless fear, empty of wonderment and uncertainty.  Here I am were the only three words the musty thickness of solitude allowed me.  Here I am, as the dunes, water and piers were cinematically panned further and further from my grasp, and then from my sight.  Here I am as she became a speck of past-life nostalgia fading into the aria the salty wind trailed through my ears like the tongue of Venus lustfully inspiring sexuality that damns the gray intentions of the howling apparition of selfish misguidance.

The things that matter never have…it’s time to become wise in the knowledge of the cipher within the meticulous courage of truth.

It started as an idea; a faint unknowing of what only could be understood.  Still, there was no sense of it as long as the mind churned the rusted cogs to understand it.

I became so lost within this deliriousness that I hadn’t noticed my feet evaporated into the New Moon blues of that foggy hallucination.  Liquid ice-whipped seaweed strangled my ankles, fungus-invoked nausea residing inside my throat flavored each breath with the excretion of hope and life.  The sky ending within the sand within the ocean within the concept that has evolved a species towards dissent and progress.

Oxygen, flesh pink and wet, began filling my lungs as I began slipping more and more.  The gentle notes continued to break through as they battled the fear that had been consuming me in that abyss, like the voice of the angel from behind the curtain of life as I slipped further into a standing coma overcome by the power of a universe that I have tried to create, control and reside in, all simultaneously.

So, I asked her, and she answers in a code possible only by myself to decipher.  The scent of the sea turtle…imagine the stories.

And, as I went to embrace her, to lay a kiss on her in gratitude for this new direction, like the mist, she vanishes.  It’s the salt, I hear as I turn my flesh inside out and lick this shell.

“I’m sorry,” I cried back with a dry tongue.

Don’t be, you did nothing wrong.  You’ll learn in time that sorrow matters not.  But, even still, it’s the salt that heals you, to help you live eternally.  Don’t forget about what’s already there.