Saturday, February 8, 2014

It's Stated

My life has been a series of difficult events.  I have been challenged from the point of my birth.  I have lost dear friends to suicide, we used to walk together and now I continue alone.  The pain, the nightmares, the day-mares, the flashbacks, the horror, the tragedy that haunts me every day.  I have tried so hard to be optimistic in the belief that someday I will be able to recover myself and live peacefully within my own being.  I have discovered no matter what you do to try and confront your fears, it's the nightmares that remind you how broken you are inside.  I wake-up screaming in the night and it is shocking that after so many years your mind cannot let go and just seems to be stuck on repeatedly trying to explain these events  to you in your sleep again and again.

During the daylight hours, I try to not think about these nightmares but I have found that if I do not take the time to acknowledge to myself that I have had them, they come back to haunt me with a vengeance.  I spend the majority of my time with my dog and my cat, they are the ones that bring laughter into my life.  For the most part I chose to believe that everything happens for a reason, we just don't always know the why.  I just know that I am very grateful to a person that I will never meet because I am old enough to know that wishes don't come true.  He inspired me in such a manner that I feel complete even though I know that I am broken by what has happened to me in this life.

For those of you that kill the dreams of people that really need them, go fuck yourselves, 'cause another little girl died this week, she was four years old, raped and beaten to death in her very own home, by her very own family.

The Magic Of Pictured Talk

An Orchestra of Thought,
the magic of pictured talk.

The universe, the simple verse,
know lyrics speak,
as photographs capture the perfect read.

The tempo of,
the quietly written word,
the music is love,
as life seems absurd.

The challenge on this Earth,
the production seems cursed,
to bring to an end,
the hand to hand mend.

The resolve of connections,
made without eyes,
the face that is missing,
the person doesn't realize,
it is not in the 'likes' or the want for the wish,
it's the views that add-up,
that increase upon clicks.

The base in acoustic,
the echo of trend,
the empty appeals,
the text in a bin.

The beauty of what has actually been,
is lost as the people only hit send.

Picture Self

The Era of Now,
the portraits are done,
with the snapshot made,
the mere picture of whom,
'the Selfie' always shown alone.

A desperate state,
events capture you in place,
the mirror of witness,
is you on the phone.

People share lives,
encouraged to take,
these still shots forsake,
a friend that may say;
self-portrait today?

Amusing or testimony,
to lives all alone,
the laughter is missing,
the voice recorder texting,
a picture frame,
sent to say,
I'm having fun today.

The human sounds,
are being dumbed down,
the quiet of send,
is the pain that you're in,
and the mirror of your only friend.