There was no end to that road
only moments of pleasure
maybe hours sometimes, sure
but it always came to an end.
pain is not something to hide from
and he learned that by trying to
and noticing that despite his intense efforts
it always comes back.
film portrays
dirty faces
and thousand yard stares
with flashing lights
and quiet reverence
suggesting that there is
something deeper going on behind dead eyes
some beautiful unspoken thing
that brought about a great, un-questioned and desirable pain.
when was the last time you saw
and unwashed traumatized face
and did not react with revulsion and pity?
when was the last time you stared at someone suffering and thought to yourself:
"wow, this is beautiful"?
boom
the wrathful rage of someone who does not know better
is an embarrassing lapse in form
that showcases the weakness of the person
at the center of the explosion
for the good of the order
just pretend that
you do not need to be heard
in the entirety of your experience
by everyone in the proximity
of the thing that hurt you
you might start to notice
that things better left
unsaid do not fester
if you show your willpower
and manifest change
in your actions appropriately
that burning inside you is very important
and should never go ignored
but it needs to be harnessed,
controlled, and honed into a tool
not a destructive force
eggshell
what if everything is like an egg
and the shell is being cracked and broken
by the primordial seismic energy that created all existence
revealing new and unexplored layers constantly
never really revealing the inside
but getting closer all the time
some layers are disgusting
some layers are beautiful and pleasurable
many layers are incompatible
causing rifts in relationships
nobody's fault
things just kept on cracking
changing and becoming
unrecognizable
and it always feels costly
even though it's inevitable
I think human beings were designed
to grieve.
sure enough there was time to kill in the back lot of the Walmart distribution center and because of that a congregation of incredibly tired coworkers stood around smoking cigarettes and complaining about life's woes and nobody had anything impactful or meaningful to contribute which created a vortex of negativity that spread across the entire parking lot engulfing every person in a half mile radius wherein everybody in the danger zone without a strong set of moral values began complaining to nobody about nothing breathing in and out the negativity that was already in the air, becoming individual points photosynthesizing nothing into nothing else and the clouds got dark causing a further negativity in the minds and hearts of those affected and as the lightning struck down in targeted bursts destroying the homes of happy people until there was nothing left but curmudgeonry and attention seeking conversations comparing pain as a yardstick for personal validation.
Self hatred divines a sense of paranoia that extends itself throughout the experience of the individual until they are at odds with everything that comes into their awareness.
These individuals grew up in an emotional desert and were often considered valuable mostly on the basis of what they can or are willing to do for their caretakers. In certain cases, these individuals grow into jealous wrathful people who expect acts of service and submission from those they hold close because it is the only way their minds can recognize love. This perpetuates a cycle of unreasonable expectations, mitigation of feelings, and the avoidance of discomfort (which often feels like a physiological emergency for traumatized individuals). The pain this can cause for those who love the broken person is strong enough to perpetuate the cycle, especially in adults who are unaware of their compulsion to make others happy for the sake of their own mental safety.
The problem cannot be solved through external means. Self love, faith, and a non judgmental acceptance of pain are how we awaken to the behaviors we engage in.
10 questions
can you change
the fire into rain?
what is the purpose of
waiting for nothing to happen?
how do you know when you've
done all you can?
is patience more valuable
than pride?
what is worth all this
sacrifice?
should there be justice
for your feelings?
who do you feel
you deserve to know?
does everything
have to be perfect?
are your emotions
killing you?
do you know what the
answers are?
poetry
terrifying challenges
some intensity undeserved
from the moment the cloth was lifted
the glare from the sun was overwhelming
and on some days it is too cold
on some days sweat burns in the eyes
and on some days the sun is a demon
on some days it brings life
all of it depends on everything
moment to moment, unpredicted
ultimately there is not peace
ultimately there is not chaos
it becomes frustrating
to describe
when the only way to do it
is to lie
moment focused
values oriented decision making
proper and improper
mindfulness and positivity
where does one sentence stop
and the other begin
can we take a second
to breathe
even in itself this thing
you're reading
has no real meaning
even though it's made up of meanings
and the close proximity
of stanzas in a vertical line
tricks you into believing
that all of this is connected somehow
but in reality it's all just well organized
beautiful nonsense
awe
feel small and love it.
witness the incredible power of something
and be overtaken, just like a child again
greedily drinking the surroundings
for fear of missing even one small detail
of the ever-increasing intricacy that is here.
each individual unit moving independently
and perfectly placed both for aesthetic and functional purpose
divided up in such a way to make something bigger happen
while also projecting an infinite number of facets
which can each be explored with equal fervor
and to an ultimately unlimited depth
and in the act of attempted comprehension
the mind warps and stretches around many ideas at once
until it is no longer aware of its actual size and limitation
and, perhaps, confuses itself with what it observes
creating a sort of dilution, or an absence of separation
and the self that it remembers dissolves into particles
which are absorbed by the surrounding cacophony
to the point where observation itself becomes a fevered mania
powered by the energy of the entire universe
and is unable to be articulated with words in the moment
because the body is so enveloped by the feeling
that it really doesn't matter what the feeling is
but upon later reflection, one might notice how the feeling rhymes
with terror, and pleasure, and excitement, and sadness, and joy, all at once
and we wrap that experience up (in English) using three letters:
awe.
movin’ right along
Thinking a lot about how the greatest pain
forges you like a steel blade
how broken bones heal back stronger
so we cannot have one without the other
The same force that turns mountains to sand
kickstarts the life inside you
stretches it like a rubber band
and pulls it through some kind of listless maze
Circles and cycles
grass growing and dying
inside you is fire
and it burns everything
But I think we are sick
of cliched advertising
and being sold on
what we "are"
I think everyone knows that behind pain is purpose
and that we all have purpose whether we know it or not
it's simply the difference between doing and being,
to have free will is to be without sin.
It's all very tiresome
so we cope and continue
and rationalize with millions of words
in millions of ways, what anything means
So many what if's and wishes
and waiting to see's
and hoping for something
that might never be
Histories and once-upon-
a-time stories fables and lessons
outrageous confessions, suspense, accusations
sex and violence
movies and songs
false actualizations
with finite durations
that have limitations
and seem effortless
-life-
it seems like someone
shoved a key in a lock and turned it too hard
and hit something that hurt and contacts childhood
some longing, painful, unsatisfied thing
that sits just behind your eyes screaming
taking it in and moving and working
and laughing and crying and all the time "trying"
and feeling defensive, so often pensive or
excessively aggressive and obsessed with perfection
afraid knowing that death is the end of the sentence
that we barely have any sense of,
and so with apprehension
we move forward and question the method by which
our lives were created to gain some control and cultivate patience
in order to work and just barely make, it all the while
comparing ourselves to each other not knowing that
we're all the same