Saturday, February 28, 2009

On Circles of Time...

I keep typing out these words
attempting to explain what they meet
forgetting the point is moot
because you already know.

You've seen the story of my heart
and the ways of my life,
seen these stones rolled away
and seen hearts bleed out love in their ways.

There could never be enough words,
never be enough ways
and never enough time
to just give you everything
that you deserve.
Give you all the words
to explain your finite beauty
which burns from the infinite gift
you have been given
which I can see,
just with one look in your eyes.

Thankfully time isn't just this one way line,
a symmetrical system we can grasp.
If eternity is infinity
then we can be complete, be one
even if that doesn't mean the present time.
Or tomorrow.
But it does mean now and forever.

Just in Hope

If it happens to snow tonight,
just like the news man says
I can always hope it falls heavy and new.
Fall upon this dark heart
with its light dusting
falling from the heavens above.
Falling to make things new.
One can always hope when it melts,
when the temperature of my heart
heats it beyond its points of life
that the water it makes will melt
and fill in the crevices within.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Sometimes just reading someone's story is enough to remind you of the communality we share...and in my case makes me cry.

This is one those times.

I could stand to be a bit less overemotional...

*Sigh*

It Only Comes Out At Night

My soul doesn't sleep at night.
All the darkness does is serve to remind
how alone and afraid the night can be.
A reminder of how my soul,
how it can only have this one real connection
and that anything else is just finite.

There is the absence of light
this fear of all the burning it brings
and the pain it reveals.
All of the ugly scars and the truth
that can no longer hide from me.
All reveled in an instant to the world
all the secrets worked so hard to conceal.

The night hides everything I never wanted
and is given to me in dreams.
Dreams of Hell fire and
of deepest wasters of darkness.
Reminders of the finite little boy here,
that he cannot survive nature
much less his own fears.

It's this night that acts as a cancer
eating at my soul.
Showing every little fault line
and every moment that has cut my heart,
pressing deep on the wounds
making me unable to breath.

It is this night that dares to taunt me
and dares to remind me of my loss.
How this chasm has grown deeper by day
and wider by night.

To live is to hurt.
Memories are bitter sweet
but sometimes so bitter
that I do not know if I was better with them
or without them at the time,
much less now
when all the final nail needs
is just a simple breeze.

Love is not finite.
It has no compromises.
Just that which is imposed on it
to please those it needs.
So that it is not forever alone.
Love mends, builds and restores.
Just as easy as it kills on a whim.
Passionate insanity,
a delusion based in the soul
and carried out by a diseased mind and body.

But it is this coming night I fear.
The night when I awake to find the day has fled
and all is now hidden by night eternal.
That you are nowhere to be found
and I weep alone,
held in place by the nights cover.
Keeping me sanitized
from the offensive perturbation
and protrusion
of love into this night
hiding my soul so sweetly
and with the utmost kindness
found only in the night's dark charity.

Lovely Talk Tonight

I'm sitting here wishing
I had some good news to give.
I'm sitting here and hearing
just every word in every phrase
of everything I never wanted you to say,
to feel the quiver of your lips
moving in slow ways
with resounding doubt.
But better this time than last.

I wanted to say it's alright
or that I'm sorry.
Sorry for crimes I haven't committed yet,
just some words to get your mind
moving elsewhere,
to give them form here.
On an adventure to see,
just so you see how beautiful you are.

It feels too trite to say,
too disarrayed to know
too broken to feel
too many ways
to not know how to say
just how little love
just how much pain
just how insufficient
I am,
and how the future should be more.
So much brighter than what I can offer to say,
offer to do for it.

Out of sync rhymes hoping to make sense
over the snaps and cracks
of a world falling out of place
and it landing in your backyard.
Given the choice none of us would have asked for it
but we get the gifts
of universal fear, doubt and understanding
and grace just
and only just as we need it.

I want to be the one who doesn't care
about the thoughts of others
but it means neglecting
even betraying a part of me
that I just cannot let go of.

It's like I cannot help but look at this mirror
and see what is behind me.
The background is my foreground
as much as I'm your foe.
This odd and needed reversal.

I can't help but want to see some real transformation
to see this fake part of town on fire
seeing everything burned down
and made new.
Renewed with the pain of burning
and being made beautiful again.
To see the location
of your soul
be found again.
Smiles of sunlight
on these blades of grass.
They need you so they won't wither.
Without you there is no life,
no life for the place you are given.

It's not like we're living for today
anymore then it was yesterday
or the year before.
It's not like we're running out of time
just the minutes of every day.

It's not like it's new
we've been through this every day of our life,
every moment before we knew of the other
as if somehow,
we always had this intristic connection
that was made before time began.
That love which shaped creation with words
making us to be who we are before we knew.
Before we knew the potential of life
or the Hell is becomes.
Before we could scarcely hope to believe in hope
or that we can find each other.
The need to know we are both here and there
even when there is nothing in between.
That the longing felt can be made whole,
that the two halves torn apart will be restored.

That there is love to be had,
hope to be found,
love to restore
and hope to heal.

That these thoughts,
these wild whispers of untamed hope
might find life in your breath.
That they may be brought back to life
and set the fire in your heart
so you aren't afraid to ask,
ask the hard questions when all you want is
all that you are never seeing.

There are never words enough to offer,
prayers cried
or screamed into heaven.
There will never be enough verbal expression
or words being written
that can give justice to emotion
and its merest of consequences.

We can talk about sleep
but what about when it never comes?
Like the pause before dawn
except this is looking into an abyss
of self established failure.

But it is more,
more than you
and thankfully more than me.
It's behind you
and inside you.
Waiting to catch flame
and burn ever bright.
Love on its way down to the top.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

I don't know how much longer I can just keep holding on like this, in whatever way I'm doing it.

I'm tired.

Just...I don't know how I keep falling back...like this.

Breathing

I'm not sure what I was thinking or what I am thinking now.

Things are so hazy and unsure...different paths...potential...with so much that can go wrong...so many hurt feelings...so much taken the wrong way...I'm afraid to speak much less stand up and make a decision.

I'm afraid if things keep going this way I'm going to just explode and do something rather rash.

But it is nice to say hello...even though digital portals don't convey enough feeling, enough emotion and soul...it is nice to say hello even when things don't exactly make sense and organic matter is failing to do its job.

It's funny...every time I start to feel like I'm going crazy or that the pain is in my head, I just sort of double over and sometimes try not to scream.

I mean, certainly that sounds over dramatic, I haven't screamed...more just low moans of pain amongst wondering why it feels God won't do anything...but it's a matter of perspective. Thankfully this isn't worse, I'm not on fire, right?

The nice comfort I can solace in right now is just moving forward.

In a sane pattern and into a world less known but better than the one I inhabit.

I'm choking on the noxious fumes from this toxicity...that I live in and around...memories that cannot and will not die...reminders of my own shortcomings and forthcoming demise...a cavernous sarcophagus painted in white and pale blue, filled to the brim with books and papers not doing a thing.

Part of the problem is me, no doubt.

But the problem is also outside as well as inside.

I'm not even negative or narcissistic enough to think I can be this bad...but I'm ready to leave it, the pain.

I just am not sure on how to stand up or on walking.

Crawling isn't the worst option at least...

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Gargh...

Well that was a depressing punch in the face.

Now what God?

Yes.

Sure.

Okay.

But you should know waiting does indeed suck.

No offense intended.
I'm looking, looking for something more real.

Something that is going to last.

But it is sort of a pity because there is nothing more real than life itself and it will dissolve into the sand with the rest of time.
Oh how I hate pain.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

I Hate Money...

...or really the lack of it to be honest.

Goodbye World of Warcraft for the foreseeable future.

Hello writing, self loathing, job hunting and grad school applications!

Oie.

Over the top systematic theology makes me have ulcers.

Bah.

Misc. Demetri Martin Jokes

Defining Guilt

"Let wickedness escape as it may at the bar, it never fails of doing justice upon itself; for every guilty person is his own hangman."
-Seneca


Before being able to tackle such a large and wide range of questions we first have to figure out just what we are talking about. Guilt, like the words grace, hope, charity, love, mercy and etc. are words that are Christian in nature (but quite obviously reaching much further back in history than the past two centuries) but have lost much of their real meaning because of overuse and over saturation in conversation.

People feel guilty for smoking, for eating chocolate, for driving SUV's, for eating red meat, for liking 90's pop music and the list goes on.

Conversely speaking, people openly do not feel guilt over raping, over killing others, over abortions, for lying and causing innocent people to go to jail, for torturing and abuse directed towards animals and so on.

There is a deliberate contrast to that list.

The first list contains things people do to themselves which can be bad but are not necessarily 'evil'. Whereas the second list is composed of things which can be (and in my opinion) are things which people should either feel guilt over or at least require a second thought, a looking into the soul over before, during and after.

The question that is being posed is "Why?"

Why bother stopping to think of my actions?
What makes an action 'good' or 'bad' or a reason someone should feel this horrible and crushing dread sensation?

Let's find a working definition of the word.


Dictionary.com says that :

guilt
/gɪlt/[gilt]
–noun
1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.
2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
3. conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.


Guilt is a noun, it is a thing, a state of mind and possibly a state of being as well.


I. The first offered definition of guilt is a state of unquestionable being. An action that violate an either spoken or unspoken law or moral code and the offender is seen as being unquestionably guilty. In other words there somehow and in someway exists this intrinsic part of our being that shouts out when something happens that violates this code.

If a child is about to eat an apple an a bigger child walks up, punches the kid in the face and steals the apple; the first kid KNOWS something has been violated somewhere. He hurts, he is in pain and no longer has his apple. Whether the second child realizes it or not he has broken two very wide held laws that are against thievery and abuse against another human.

This definition does NOT require a person to know of their guilt. All that is requires is that stand accused of this crime in others minds and that a standard has been broken.



II. The second definition is about this abstract, mental anguish of the mind and soul where a person FEELS that they have violated that unspoken moral code. This guilt is the consequence of a person realizing or feeling that they have broken a law or rule and because of either their pain or the pain they have caused there is this interruption.

An example would be if someone was speeding along on the road, flying down it in a sports car pushing a hundred miles per hour and then they run over tire spikes. Needless to say the car looses it's four tires and comes to a literal crashing stop. In a way, when a human realizes they have done something and feels remorse, that same screeching halt occurs. For some it is a light tap on the breaks and for others it is a spectacular explosive car crash worthy of Hollywood cinema.

It varies by person, personal belief and the empathy that one posses towards others.



III. The third and final definition is that of a lifestyle of guilt. To knowingly cause harm and then continue on with life. Sociopaths, professional criminals and the super spiritual are sure to apply for this.

This goes beyond simply feeling and knowing remorse, it requires willful breaking of this law and continually doing so.

The interesting wording of this definition is not that a person accidentally or somehow is ignorant of the law, the person realizes they are violating an ethic standard but at the same time they continue. This pushes well beyond simple understanding and requires a deep delving into the mind, the psyche, the soul, the base reasoning and understanding of that person to even begin to the attempt to grasp at understanding of their behavior.

There are no easy examples of this because each person, each case is a unique example of this state. Seemingly few people willfully subject themselves to abuse but it almost feels as if this understanding of guilt is rampant among those who believe. The guilty are only suppose to run when they think they are being pursued but with the epic marathon being ran one would think most of the population are personally guilty for a genocide worth of sin.



Why do some people feel unable to breath after making a small lie whereas others can easily kill a dozen people based upon their racial heritage and then sleep at night?

There are quite obviously no easy answers in range of grasp.

The very Christian (and a personal belief) of a literal human fall from grace, of us willfully walking from love, peace and grace; and then leaping into the lordship of self servitude is a rather unhappy thought but with enough sincerity one can begin to see the truth of this.

I cannot speak for others really but only make broad assumptions based upon my personal experince. Either everyone else in the world is somewhat like me or drastically different.

Speaking of pain...

"Life is pain, Highness! Anyone who says differently is selling something."
-Westley as The Dread Pirate Robertson, "The Princess Bride"


...I think maybe I quote that too much... >_>

Hmm...

I guess I'll work on those questions in the morning.

In the mean time I wish I felt less...distant and sad and feeling...weird and awkward in my mind...and could just...sleep.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Questions on Guilt

1.Is there such thing as 'good' guilt?

2.What does this look like?

3.What is the cause of it?

4.At what point does 'good' guilt become 'bad' guilt?

5.What are the origins of evil?

6.What is the Satan to man ratio of evil in the world and personal levels?

7.What about those who do not believe in Satan? Is there problems that go unchecked
by not acknowledging his existence?

8.Should people feel guilty for acts they do not commit? Or to clarify the point further, what about events they unintentionally cause?

9.Furthermore why do people feel guilt for things they have no control over or situations where there was no malicious intent?

10.Is there could be a biological reason for guilt?

11.Why do you think people lie?

12.Why do you think Christians seem to be so afraid to have open minds (even if they disagree with the thought) or watch a movie that might not be right in line with their thoughts or hear a bad word or whatever?

Pain:

It sucks but is a fundamentally unavoidable part of life.

Small Video With Rob Bell

...

Yeah yeah yeah.

...and stuff.

Not much of a lot of stuff.

Just...stuff.

Is that poetically expressive enough?

Hmm...

The dentist is indeed a much more cheerful place than I remember...also, it is really hard to whistle when half your face is numb from Novocaine...it's quite sad really...

Odd

I went to the dentist, took a nap while waiting on some dental work to take place and even though the right side of my face is numb...overall I feel...more at peace. I think writing so much earlier helped to loose some more recent fear and disappointments...and at the same time the magical nap helped.

I just have not eaten any food since five yesterday afternoon. So it's been about twenty four hours since I had a meal.

I need to get something soon.

But it's nice to be able the breath and not feel like the walls are collapsing on me right this moment.

I want to keep breathing.

I know it is going to be hard again soon but right now, right now I can breath and not worry about the rest of the world.

This moment is just enough because it contains all the other moments that will ever be.

"Yahweh" - U2

Streetlight Manifesto- The Receiving End of it All

Blue Cold Reasoning Jazz

I have nothing to say but everything.
Nothing to do but think of you.
Annoying as it is
I can't do much else
Except laying in
this personalized coffin
painted black and red
showing off my various sins.

I'm not depressed, just as mush as I am tired.
I'm not sick, just as much as I am malfunctioning.
I am not really even me,
when you get down to the base facts,
that guy was never here when you got here.

The facts you think you are hearing in your mind
is just your television set that you can't quite turn off
because you don't need much reality when you have it
at the touch of a button.
Images, videos, and streaming screams,
the worst and worst we have to offer ourselves.
All at the touch and click of a button.

I am out of my element
and out of my time.
I have time but I'm not where I should be.
Running water is nice
but I would rather be running for life
out of this place
and into the future of hope.

I could say I'm sorry
but do we even know what that means now?

I keep loosing track of myself
and my mind.

Just me and Lucifer
and the rest of our kind.

A couple of drinks
to help us ease out minds.

Reflect and regret on all of our lives
and see where it all went wrong.
Trite as it is to regret when all is said and done
one can always hope someone is there
to hear you say "I'm sorry."
even when it seems to be the mantra
of the hour and of the dead.

It all began and will end in this club,
every idea revolving around hope.
Every tattered message
arriving just two days to late.
It's all in your eyes I know
the pain, the fear, the hate
and I don't know what to say.

I never knew except to smile
and that I want to try.
Not even realizing I was quoting myself
and all of my lies.
Not realizing to bother is to care
and the last thing my soul needed
but was to pretend something
that was never true.

It's kind of a sick feeling really.
Nothing I know or can do.
Nothing I want to look at.
It's all just a blue anyways.
Time falling back and forward
and forgetting its place.
Not knowing it should work for us
and not against us
pulling out reality apart
one shred at a time,
one tear at a time.

The reason I feel so sick
is because of knowing how this is all on me
that all of these crimes go back
and will fall on me to answer.
And I've got nothing to say,
no way to defend
no way to explain
or absolve myself of the sin.
Just the knowledge
of always how hollow my grin
and how tired my soul
of pretending
and no longer able to cope
with the merest lie
and the most basic of all these.

It really isn't you,
it is all me.

I can't even say goodbye
because words won't define
the lack of hope.
Words can't convey the fear
and the hurt.
The shock of my own ignorance
and my belligerence
and my stupidity.
My own personal Hell.
Skirting past purgatory
like it was just a bad dream.

If I'm lucky I'll awake
and no longer be in this wood structure,
no longer bound by failing flesh
and a diseased mind.
Not longer buying my way out
and no longer building myself in.
Just maybe a shred of hope
on top of it all.

Realizing it was all for nothing
but maybe there are some left standing,
a few worth knowing that won't
end things thus and this way.
Nothing lasts beyond our fetid hands,
nothing can be grasped for long
because time causes the deepest wounds.
The stronger the love the deeper the cut
the more that will never heal
and the last reminder
of how none of it was worth it after all.
All I want is to be forgotten,
to fade from sight.
Let the steady beat carry me out
of your mind
your imagination.
To wash things clear
and to be forgiven.
For all the things done,
all the pain caused
and for things to be forgotten.

That is my strongest hope.
To let the sands of time
just eat away,
corrode away my pain.
Eat away at the last memories
of how I ended it all
so pitifully.

Just letting things fall apart
as I ignored any sense of worth
and anything that could have made sense.
Just out of sync with reality
and words
and rhyming schemes
and anything worth worrying about.

There just are not words for moments like these.
There just isn't enough of anything
for now
for later
or for forever.

It's all a bit too much
right now.
It's too early anyhow.
Anyway it is formed
it is too early for such endless schemes.
Ridiculous circles not making sense.

I would but I won't
bother to say
goodbye and goodnight.
The lines of communication
are much too poor anyway.
There is too much of a din
too loud of chaos
that I don't even understand anymore.
It just took a few short years to get here
and a life time of sin so compact
and so complicated.
So much unsaid but there is no need
to regret over such little matters
when there is nothing but cold
logic driving the song.
Nothing but necessity
and a few broken words.
There is much more
but don't ask
because there is no need to share.
Just a lot of memories
that can never cease to be.
That are not kind enough to be quiet
and remove themselves from the back.
But that is life,
living it in it's own reasons
and own ways.
No matter how black and off white,
no matter how untidy
and painful.
There is no resolution
or end to this song
because it is free forming and falling.
Just as much as it failed.
Just like this experiment.

Fin.
It is weird how nothing can say everything and nothing at the same time.

A Few Thoughts:

-Food just doesn't taste as good if you have to buy it.
-Taste is as subjective as any opinion but not liking Queen is like saying you do not enjoy breathing. Or me having intelligent conversations with you.
-If I'm negative and you are positive does that mean if we were added together I would win every argument every time?
-Don't they have a voodoo spell for people who aren't comfortable being in their own skin?
-If sleep isn't as important as some people make it out to be why don't more people try giving it up? Instead of sleeping one third of their lives they could sleep only a fifth and live about four times shorter in the process.
-If I like musical diversity, does this mean I can't have my Cake cd and listen to it at the same time?
-Is it simple nostalgia for a child hood with so few good memories but hasn't music simply gotten worse as time has gone on? I don't care how postmodern a person is booms, clicks and terrible rhyming structure simply does not make something a song.
-Sometimes U2 makes me sad over all the underused potential.
-I'm really in the mood to be hopeful but I'm too tired. Plus I have a dentist appointment later today.
-I used to think I had a problem with just wanting pills to fix everything and then quite like Dr.House I just have a pain problem.
-Somedays I wish a zombie apocalypse would happen just to be able to prove moral relativity wrong. But then again that is like saying playing baseball with live hand grenades will make a little league team better prepared to take on a professional ball team.
-But the great thing about zombies are that they are the great equalizer...and proof George A. Romero is awesome.
-The fact I'm still writing this is also proof I need to be slapped across my head, or something just as motivating.

A Moment of Thought on Hope

Three parts self delusion, two parts the hope of the future, a third of it is the magic of life, whereas another fourth of it is reassurance in the dark of the night and lest I forget another fifteenth of it is my inability to process math and by math I specifically mean fractions.

Medicated Thoughts

There is a rather large hole in me that keeps trying to get filled.

Nothing I put in works, all it odes it make the edges crumble in and make the hole larger and more efficient at causing me to be in great pain.

Some wounds may never heal, every attempt to fix it seems to make it worse.

It's less dramatic than it sounds but practically speaking I'm not sure where to begin trying to change things.

My soul is grieved over the pain I see, I experience, I cause, I try to heal and that is around and in me.

I feel like the darkness and light in me are such a combination that it drives people away, friends I dearly miss but that I do not know how to communicate with anymore because I feel so alien, so different, so strange, so apart from the rest of life.

The annoying thing is I sound like a broken record and have literally posted hundreds of posts on here about this same thing.

Personally I am annoyed by it.
What am I doing here?
Where am I going if anywhere?
What is the point?
Honestly.
Words.
What more?
Cycles?
Cyclic pain and death?
Circles we draw in sand and then attempt to understand based upon previous experience and whatever convenient lies we make up along the way?

I pray for a quick end to this reality.
I cannot understand or handle whatever it is I am.
I'm so tired of myself and all of these useless words and posts.
I wish I could find either absolution for all of the pain I've caused or I find a way to ease into the next life much easier.

I don't care, honestly I don't.

It is hard to keep focus when I am on so much useless medicine that makes it almost impossible for me to focus or be able to do anything worthwhile.
So much pain
Right now.
So little purpose.

Showbread lyrics

To be common place would be unique,
But we’re so obscure we’re incoherent,
Like tongueless vigilantes choking just to make you choke,
Rattling, rattling,
No nails to hold ideas in place, no expression on your face

Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis, she’s brittle she is broken

Static comes through synthesizers, megaphones and drum machines,
Beauty sounds like smashed guitars,
And several references to feedback,
Rattling, rattling,
No surgery to save your life,
No promise everything’s all right

Music and her patrons are dead and irrelevant,
Like osteoporosis she’s brittle and she is broken,
Languages must be organic because like flies they fall and die,
Music now sleeps with Latin and Aramaic,
It’s over, it’s over,
No more waiting for something to live for,
It’s over, it’s over,
Everything is dying and we want something more
-"The Bell Jar", Showbread

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Nevermore.

Nothing.
Never Again.
Nevermore.

Words Again

If I had words I would say them
if I had hope I would give it.
If I had breath I would share it
but all in all is this drowning feeling.

Relatively speaking it is nothing new.
Just a few more words added to a growing list.
A list just made of paper and a few markings,
nothing new and nothing exciting.
Just the totality of the past
summed up in insufficient terms
simplified so I might explain,
explain to who or what
I'll never know
but I'll offer my confession to the sky.

No right, no wrong
no left no right.
Simply cliches
disguised as more.
Well more like over simplification
in the guise of a disguise
so I can mask my true feelings
while pretending something is nothing
and nothing is more
when nothing is indeed something of nothing
and you are you and that is all I know.

Nothing more, nothing more.
Nothing less than pure honesty,
so I want nothing more.
This nothing is something.
I made it so.
A hollow space in my heart
never knowing it would grow.
But it has.
And will.
Every event pushing it wider
making life harder and tighter
and sanity less of an appeal.

The more I see
the less I feel.
The more I feel
the less I believe.
The harder it gets to see.
Much less be me.

It's coming full circle,
whatever that really means
in this out of place
rhetorical context.

Some thoughts:

-Food just doesn't taste as good if you have to buy it.
-Taste is as subjective as any opinion but not liking Queen is like saying you do not enjoy breathing. Or me having intelligent conversations with you.
-If I'm negative and you are positive does that mean if we were added together I would win every argument every time?
-Don't they have a voodoo spell for people who aren't comfortable being in their own skin?
-If sleep isn't as important as some people make it out to be why don't more people try giving it up? Instead of sleeping one third of their lives they could sleep only a fifth and live about four times shorter in the process.
-If I like musical diversity, does this mean I can't have my Cake cd and listen to it at the same time?
-Is it simple nostalgia for a child hood with so few good memories but hasn't music simply gotten worse as time has gone on? I don't care how postmodern a person is booms, clicks and terrible rhyming structure simply does not make something a song.
-Sometimes U2 makes me sad over all the underused potential.
-I'm really in the mood to be hopeful but I'm too tired. Plus I have a dentist appointment later today.
-I used to think I had a problem with just wanting pills to fix everything and then quite like Dr.House I just have a pain problem.
-Somedays I wish a zombie apocalypse would happen just to be able to prove moral relativity wrong. But then again that is like saying playing baseball with live hand grenades will make a little league team better prepared to take on a professional ball team.
-But the great thing about zombies are that they are the great equalizer...and proof George A. Romero is awesome.
-The fact I'm still writing this is also proof I need to be slapped across my head, or something just as motivating.

Some thoughts:

-Food just doesn't taste as good if you have to buy it.
-Taste is as subjective as any opinion but not liking Queen is like saying you do not enjoy breathing. Or me having intelligent conversations with you.
-If I'm negative and you are positive does that mean if we were added together I would win every argument every time?
-Don't they have a voodoo spell for people who aren't comfortable being in their own skin?
-If sleep isn't as important as some people make it out to be why don't more people try giving it up? Instead of sleeping one third of their lives they could sleep only a fifth and live about four times shorter in the process.
-If I like musical diversity, does this mean I can't have my Cake cd and listen to it at the same time?
-Is it simple nostalgia for a child hood with so few good memories but hasn't music simply gotten worse as time has gone on? I don't care how postmodern a person is booms, clicks and terrible rhyming structure simply does not make something a song.
-Sometimes U2 makes me sad over all the underused potential.
-I'm really in the mood to be hopeful but I'm too tired. Plus I have a dentist appointment later today.
-I used to think I had a problem with just wanting pills to fix everything and then quite like Dr.House I just have a pain problem.
-Somedays I wish a zombie apocalypse would happen just to be able to prove moral relativity wrong. But then again that is like saying playing baseball with live hand grenades will make a little league team better prepared to take on a professional ball team.
-But the great thing about zombies are that they are the great equalizer...and proof George A. Romero is awesome.
-The fact I'm still writing this is also proof I need to be slapped across my head, or something just as motivating.

BS2 Song

blessed is the man who does prevail
doomed are the peacemakers when they fail
if hope springs eternal it never does here
I guess I lost all my hope last year
I tried to steal the moon from the sky
I am lost and lonely
I drift in space
my dreams are haunted by her face
blessed are the drifters, the stars that die
whose light expires, before goodbyes
goodbye, goodbye

binary star
you're the brightest blue by far
and up against the starry sea
I thought that you were meant for me

blessed are the meek who shall inherit
the throes of death for all their merit
the right to stumble, to fall and perish
doomed are those who hold and cherish
I tried to steal the moon from the sky
you hide behind your broken wings
your dreams are all for better things
and in the dark we climb this slope
cause the bravest thing is always hope
goodbye, goodbye

binary star
you're the brightest blue by far
and up against the starry sea
I thought that you were meant for me

"Binary", Brave Saint Saturn
And whatever will be will be.
Either this plan is brilliant or insane.

Perhaps it is both.
I guess it doesn't matter in the long run but I wish I could stop hurting so much...so much pain...so freaking much.
I'm so sick of the pain.

Never More

Nothing more.

Nothing now.

Nothing again.

Nothing ever.

Go to sleep.

More than enough.

It's just the same.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Undertones Softly Spoken

Wordless.

Speechless.

I don't even know what to say.

It's hard waking up,
it's harder getting up.

Facing life isn't what it used to be,
you don't have assurance
you don't get second chances.

It feels a clutter,
it fee;s weak and loose.
I don't even have words for tonight.

I keep loosing ground with every sigh,
I keep loosing myself forgoing foresight.

I want to breath again,
I want to remember life,
I want to breath deep
and take in forgotten air.

I've got nothing but you
and you say you've got naught but me.
I don't know numbers
and won't pretend to understand
when all I've got is my hurt.

I can't pretend to walk
when I can't stand.
I won't pretend to understand
when all I do is doubt.

The only thing I begin to feel certain about
is how uncertain you make me feel tonight
and every night of every day.
It's not a dance nor an embrace.
I'm empty and you're all I've got
and it's not enough.
Not enough for today or tomorrow
or the shadows stretching out past your face.

Just can we try,
try to put the past behind for tonight,
just letting love run free.

Beyond my self, beyond my fear
and doubt of your real existence,
can we just be here
and be here tonight?

Getting A Bit Better

Can looking myself in the mirror, staring deep and trying to honestly find myself lead to the bigger problems being fixed?

Directly no.

That is an impossible thought.

But taking the time to realize who I am and sincerely where I stand in the world, taking realistic and healthy looks at myself will only lead to the potential for positive changes.

The problems we face...easier to just use the word sin...all of it is caused by pride on some level or another...pride in thinking we are the ones who are in control, we own our bodies, we can control others, we can use others, we can blindly act without regard to others...this crazy notion that we shape our own destiny and that we are the ones who are central to the story of life.

It is sort of spitting reality in the face...this lie of thinking we are more important...which sort of flies in the face of humility and love.

Honestly, if there there is no difference in morality then why even bother trying to have a point in the first place?

If all of this is absolutely relative and simply based upon preference then there is no sincerity, no love and no real purpose in anything.

Even pleasure has no meaning because there has to be a measure of which can be judged good and pleasurable...life just becomes useless rubbish with no meaning.


That could be a sincere and healthy dose of reality...the actual possibility of no hope, no love, no God, no goodness and just the idea of us all being a random accident.

That is a possibility but at the same time any attempt for someone to force their belief is null and void because they have no right to claim superiority.


But what would that even matter?


Hypothetical thought only does so much when you have had truth standing next to you and touching your heart, breaking you and brining you back to life.

What is the point of truth if you choose to ignore it?

Facts can't save humanity, only action and decision to move past our inflated egos and embrace love...can have any real change...and not just love...but sincere and infinite love offered only by the one bigger than all.

I'm tired of feeling like I'm only half alive...because I'm ignoring the truth I've found and felt...ignoring real love that goes beyond my inability to cope with people...I mean...just ignoring truth and the fact I'm broken and am frail but I'm not hopeless...that no one is hopeless...that we all deserve and should be loved...ignoring the fact that if I stopped long enough I can be loved and brought closer to the end of this life but one step closer to absolute truth, reality beyond reality...hope beyond hope.

A few items of note:

1.Feeling so nauseated I can't get out of bed sucks, no matter how you look at it.

2.My cell phone must have new Verizon Wireless technology that allows it to make controlled cell phone sized worm holes for it to disappaer into and reapear at random points in my room.

3.Not getting replies in the email from specific people concernign internships.

4.Feeling more confused now more than ever about stuff.

Friday, February 20, 2009

T.S. Eliot Quote

"Humankind cannot bear very much reality."
-T.S. Eliot


Ah so true...
...but feeling incredibly nauseated still has nothing to do with moral and mental relativity in conjunction with the benign life.
Depressed is such a relative term anyways.
I really think I should set fire to all my metaphorical doors, windows and mirrors...that way I can sleep at night.

Sleep?

Such a novel concept!

Waking, breathing, living, dying, hibernating, climbing or fighting...all of it is a blur of nonsense that only half way rhymes most days.

U2 and some

Enjoying U2's new album quite a bit...still not sure on everything but the best line I've heard so far has been:

"Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady"

Ah...so true.

Morning Coming Down

Despite these shallow breaths matched only by shallower prayers...I know everything will be okay...it is just hard to focus...

When something goes back, something goes good...even last night...words can't add together or make things right in my head...I feel I keep loosing touch with the ground every time I fall.

I've only heard a few tracks but the new U2 album is streaming on their myspace page...it is more hope then I've wanted to hear about life and the future for a while.

Cynicism and nihilism are so much easier than honesty and truth. No wonder I hate myself so much, much less why U2 is so easy to hate...I suppose earnesty being mistaken for self.

Who know?

I don't even know who I am, much less want to know.

Thanks for propping my soul up a bit against the wall, not sure how much longer I can stand but I appreciate the help so far.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Broken Prayers and Thoughts

I've wanted to apologize for strong language in the past but I can't. Part of being in love is fighting, getting upset, having rows and telling someone how upset you are.

Personally, a sick part of me hopes me telling Jesus "I hate you and wish you would kill me" offends people and helps them realize that God doesn't need us to treat him like an old lady needing to cross the street.

I don't care how crazy I sound because the harder I fall, the worse I hurt, the greater the peace and comfort that wraps around me like a cloak. Even though I'm scared, confused and hurting...there is this peace that scares the Hell out of me.

I don't want to be loved, I don't want to be saved or redeemed from being a pathetic creature...but He still stands over me, holds me, carries me, comforts me and no matter how alone I feel or how much I hurt he never let's go of my hand.

I just hate feeling such a distance in between us, while feeling this passionate love I can't explain to anyone without feeling like I'm talking about some invisible lover that only I can see.

I can't help but feel insane because I hate the concept of love, it scares me, it hurts me and it makes me cry a lot. I don't want to be in love, I don't want to feel happiness, or joy or peace...I'm just sick and want to hurt...but He loves me and I have no choice. I try to run away and he pursues my heart just like he does everyone from their moment of conception to the moment of their dying breath and they awake into eternity.

Words fall short, words cannot describe the absolute infinity of love because they are merely tools of a disgustingly finite creature trying so hard to enter into a realm beyond the merest conceptions of finite organic material.

I want to badly to believe, to love, to live and just move one but Jesus, God, it is so hard. Every breath makes me ache, every moment is this walking through sub zero temperature.

I'm so cold, so needy, so desperate for more, so much so that I can't even comprehend or breath right.

I'm a fool in love, no more and no less.
Just this fool in the freezing rain dying for more of your love again and again.

How can I say I love you?
How can I make it last?
Make it meaningful?
I've tried most of my life to ignore you but my soul NEEDS you, it cries for you with a passion that scares me.
I hate the weakness I feel in my knees when I feel you presence around me.
I hate the tears in my eyes when I feel you touch my heart, my soul and give me more love.
It reminds me how tainted I am, how broken and how unworthy I am and how often I put me and everyone around me through this frustratingly stupid circles of me being depressed, self loathing and hate because I just can't SIMPLY accept your love, that I am loved and that despite the imperfections it will be okay.

If it can't be perfect I selfishly want it all to end.

To die.

To be dissolved because I can't handle such perfection because of how overwhelming it is.

The only thing, the closest I can get to expressing this love...this overwhelming...is through music...the pulsating beat, the piercing guitars...all so loud they almost hurt to hear...the voices, the deep growls...the pain, the love conveyed not so much by the words as the voice...words...expressions that get caught in my throat...that I cannot convey as well as I wish I COULD...but I cannot.

So much pain, so much longing.
So much death.
God, why?
Why allow love and bonds to be formed only to be ripped away, taking away my desire for life? Why allow me to love and feel so deep just so it can be ripped out of my hands and be left on my knees and hands wracking with unexpressed sobs? Unable to cry because people need me to be strong?

Why does this dam have to burst now?
Why do I have to bleed blood?
Why do I have to throw this all up for public display?

Why?
Why?
Why?


"These streets are as cold and wet
As my eyes, flesh and bones are longing home
I was taken out of context
And to think you had me not speaking for a month or two
But it’s not You I know
It’s just me waiting
Waiting for the sun to come out

We are to follow
What if I could stand still and get moved

We are to follow
We are nothing running blind
We are to follow
We are so sick of it now
We are to follow
But I’m scared to be left behind
We are to follow
Nothing now

The TV dies more and more for each day
And the beauty of your eyes (in my head)
Makes the flashing lights behind me on the wall look even more pale
Four o’clock and the sky is getting red
And here I am, just me waiting
Waiting for the sun to come out

I’m throwing myself at you
And I’m holding on for dear life
Can I scream out of tune in this choir
God help me scream

What if I would stand still and get moved
By You"

-Blindside, "We Are to Follow"

Awkward Prayers

It is not like I didn't see this coming.

I mean, really.

Me? A minister of any kind?

I have no business in a church, much less behind a pulpit of any sort.

It's a joke, a facade. Did I mention hypocrite? This lying, dirty mercenary looking for a cheap thrill at the greatest expense for those around me? Oh and I'm bothering to write a self loathing post for attention and so people feel sorry and bad for me.

Look at me go.

Solider of Christ I ain't.

Royal jackass is a better call.

Or at least that is my personal thought on the matter.

It's not like I had any good intention in what I wanted to do. Oh, maybe there were a few positive thoughts. A few things that slipped through the cracks of my demented ego that is all about being praised for being so 'holy' and 'good'.

Such useless rubbish.

Every time someone bothers to try and help me or get in contact with me I'm so wrapped up in my own world and thoughts that I ignore them, missing calls and emails and like I said, I'm just an ass.

I don't even know what the hell I'm doing standing around here in this rain.

I seriously doubt anyone can tell me either.

The first person who uses a door metaphor to help me feel better is getting a knife thrown at them, fair warning.

It is not like I didn't seen this coming either, I had put SOO much hope and faith into this that even if I WOULD have gotten it, I would have been disappointed.

I was expecting a miracle drug for my ailments, that's why I don't give a damn how much sicker I get because I'm going to die anyway. It doesn't matter if I get pancreatic cancer from them trying to help me, this worthless fetid thing is going to die in gasping breaths soon enough and frankly I don't care.

More pain?
More needles?
So what.
I don't care.
I'm in pain and the people I live around can't understand that simple damn fact. Waking up hurt, standing up hurts, walking down damn stairs hurts, eating food hurts and don't even bring up the issue of anythign involving the bathroom.

All of us were born to die, some of us were just meant to fall apart faster and I don't care anymore.

I haven't cared since the day I realized as a child that it honestly doesn't matter to 'family'. As long as they get their gold star and hollow smile they can pretend everything is okay and they have an a okay number one son with no social anxiety, depression or suicidal thoughts.

We can pretend all the fucking rain is gumdrops and jellybeans.

It won't matter in the long run.

There are people with brain tumors, epilepsy, AIDS, quadriplegic, quadruple limb amputees and are all nicer, better tempered than me and not such an utter jackass that they can't get a simple internship which would require them to simply show people love.

I'm cold and try to act like but all I'm succeeding at is just being this pathetic creature begging for sympathy and hating people for even daring to look at me with the least big of sympathy. I want to be hated, I want to cause people to be revolted when they see me...because at least when they hate me I can give a self satisfied grin. I can at least finally feel good for being this absolute scum that I have so desperately wanted my entire life.

It would be a relief to not longer have expectations on my shoulders. It would be nice to actually just let go and become everything I have always been afraid of and hated, just so I can prove my expectations right and just lay down an die because I don't care anymore.

I hate what I haven't even become and shake my fists angrily at the shadows that dance around the room, as if they could care.

Because, you know what?

At the end of the day, at the end of the twenty four hours, the one thousand four hundred and forty minutes and the eighty six thousand and four hundred seconds pass...when all of the pass all of this would have been for nothing.

I feel so cold and angry because I have isolated myself and because I'm too tired of feeling anything.

I want to pretend I don't care, I want to scream until my lungs explode that I hate You and despise everything you have done for me...but it would be lies. I can't even choose to hate the one I am supposed to love. I want to hate you but you want let me. I want to curse your name and cut myself off from all of this but you will not let me. I hurt so badly and I just wish you would reduce my atoms to the nothing that inhabited this existence before you spoke.

I want to feel something beyond death, beyond spirit and just have nothing. Atheists are lucky and naive bastards that can be cowards enough to claim nothing.

If they could stare off into the eternity of nothing they claim to believe they would wet their pants in fear and fall on the ground unmoving and begging the rocks to cover them from the gaze of one who is at once impossibly infinite and impossibly personal.

And what is this?

More rubbish?

I can't even stay mad at you long enough to say I hate you.

I am running circles and just wish you would end this now.

End all of this because I can't take it.

I know I am in misery and pain because I live here and haven't tried to really live or do much more then shiver in fear and want to lay in bed and die.

That is me.

Wonderful hero of this story, isn't it?

I run circles, scream swear words and just try to be open while realizing my efforts are mostly worthless and with little to no real point.

I create this poor pool of egotistical nihilism and am surprised to have it try and swallow me up.

Nice, isn't it?

So much of my life has been based on lies, or to better phrase it, false perceptions of reality that I embrace because it makes life more bearable. We can't say lie or people may get their feelings hurt. But we can say altered state of mind or a perception of reality which better works with our preconceived notions of morality, political correctness and how wonderful the lack of love is.

I feel this anger, this hate, this frustration, this rage, this hurt, this growing emptiness...how hollow I really am and how uselessly cheap my faith truly is.

And you know what?

Once again I'm falling at your feet...bleeding, crying, scared and with no hope.
Once again I am out of options, out of hope and no longer want to go on.
I don't know how many more breaths I can take but without you they are meaningless.

The best I can do is offer these words I haven't written as fading prayers for tonight, just tonight, once again, once more my Love...



"They won't see the fire you have lit inside of me.
They look up to the stars and wonder where you might be.
They look up
Without realizing they're standing in the palm of your hand.
I can't explain or understand.
I just love you.

It's common knowledge that; you've been dead for a while.
It's well known that the cross is only a burden with pains and trials.
But thinking how come my shoes are so light,
how come I can walk for miles?
And still, just love you?

So I think I'll stay, caught up in silent prayer,
cause I believe in silence.
Our hearts speak the same words.
So why don't we just walk along the shoreline with our silent song?
Cause I believe in silence.
Our hearts speak the same words, the same words.

We have to prove that our love is real, over and over again.
But let them think what they want cause I know It'll never end.
Cause I know when it began.
And my heart still pumps twice as fast whenever you walk by.
Cause I still love you.

So I think I'll stay, caught up in silent prayer,
cause I believe in silence.
Our hearts speak the same words.
So why don't we just walk along the shoreline with our silent song?
Cause I believe in silence.
Our hearts speak the same words, the same words."
-Blindside, "Silence"

This Just In:

No internship for Matthew!

*sigh*

C'est la vie, I suppose.

Some things to take care of:

1.Job
2.School, seminary or university?
3.Internship

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Hooray for golf ball sized hail and the potential of tornadoy death.
In the end of all things I'm not quite sure what to say or do.

I just hope the regrets will be far and few.

Enough Love for the Night

I would like to write a love song,
saying everything I never said.
I would like to write a love song
telling you all the words I never dared.

Bending reality with metaphor and unbreakable spirit,
Saying yes to life
and learning to no longer drift.
To embrace those trifling moments,
and realize the absolute beauty of the moment.

The uncompromising beauty of killing my pride,
killing this ego and myself long enough to feel,
to heal of this disease
and draw near enough to feel you again.

I've always felt that loving was loosing myself
but it's learning to find me inside you,
looking deep enough to feel
and hurt enough to reveal.
Looking inside to see your heart reflected
in every little thing I want to do.

Looking long enough to realize playing the martyr
fell out of fashion with the Colosseum
and everything I have left will fit
quite easily into your hands
and that the only thing left to give is my heart
and the hope that that might just be enough,
be enough for today, tomorrow and the next.

These words stretching out into eternity,
marking our spirits with hope
and the beauty eternally refracted in your eyes.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Just a thought...

If Christians wanted to kill off all the 'evil' atheistic scientist, all we would have to do is say that evolution may not be as far fetched as our religious tradition says and then invite them over by diner.

QED, heart attack for the win.

Death by kindness.

Monday, February 16, 2009

It's sort of like one of those moments where it feels like I'm going to go crazy if I don't crazy tonight.

Which can be a good thing.
It would be nice to overcome my frailties, my humanity that holds me back.

The pain and the fact I'm alive in ways while dead in others.

Just waiting.
Haven't slept, can't sleep.

Too many rushing thoughts screaming through my head keeping me awake.

Too many memories, of missing, longing and silliness.

You?

Sunday, February 15, 2009

There is this fear of mine that some wounds go to deep.

That some injuries can never fully heal, that the soul simply can only do so much before it has to give up and wait for eternity.

I hope that is not true but some days it does feel that way.

So much.

So so much.
Hard time focusing this morning, so much I would rather be doing than getting ready for six hours of monotony...I really just do not even care about what happens to the store...I'm away from this sinking ship after today and when I get my final two paychecks I can be quite happy to never look back...maybe happy...I'm not sure.

I'm just feeling a mix of emotions, you know?

It has been a long and stressful few months...or year rather...so my mind is not always screwed on very tight.

*sigh*
My muscles and body scream out in protest against being awake. Shivers of pain and cold. Sometimes I wonder how I have even been alive this long.

But how long is long?

Time is so subjective anyways...

Most of it doesn't seem to even remotely matter, at least from what I can tell of it.
*sigh* It would be nice to say hello.

And a bit more.

I hate how empty the nights are.

So much emptiness with so much room for improvements...maybe.

Maybe not.

But, all the same, hi.
Today is the last day of my job...I'm not sure how much I care.

You Just Don't Know

You just don't know how badly I wish I could explain everything in simple symmetrical terms.

The things that are far beyond our grasps could be reduced to three point messages and end with an upbeat message of hope.

I wish I could lie through my teeth and say everything will be okay when I know the alternative is much more certain.

The best I can ever say is to grin and bear it with Jesus as best as you can.

Find your reason why you are alive and then rage against the forthcoming night.

Rage, rage against that incoming darkness, that night of solitude of the soul.

This can't be the end.

These feelings, these desires in my heart...the unfulfillable need for absolute and unconditional love still burns and demands an answer from you.

I can't pretend anything or act any other way then that of which I deem to be truth and absolute truth.

I can't keep it up much longer tonight, my mind is too conflicted with too much pain.

I just need to be released from this shell of emptiness.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Job?

What job?

No job here.

>_<

Friday, February 13, 2009

*sigh*

It is not as if I enjoy being a multilayer creature of various secrets and hypocrisy...far from it. I struggle with hating myself for every single breath I take, every word I have ever spoken and for every step forward.

I'm supposed to know good from bad but no one ever mentioned the gray areas much.

I feel so sick and so fake so often.

The plus side is I have my vanilla pudding and water right this moment.

They are nice.

There is no finality, even in death. Nothing truly ever ends in the way that we would perceive it would or hope to process it as. But then again we do not even understand the ideas of things unfolding or becoming more or what they truly are.

There is no need for rash or stupid decisions.

Prudence is needed.

Maybe.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Bandwagons

As fun as they sound they are just not cool.

Original thought?

That is cool.

So to celebrate cool, here is someone more cool than me. Plus he is actually funny and not just funny looking, like yours truly:








Partially slept...mind melted...things odd...self realization...almost...complete...
Still cannot sleep...too much inexpressible stress and pain.

More Use(ful)less Late Night Ramblings

Still sad.

Not as much scared though.

Tired and medicated.

Anxiety about later today about awaking from sleep.

What am I really looking forward in life?

I mean, it's like my life has revolved around Jesus, books, music and fear of women.

More than just fear of women but I think fear of every possible relationship. Fear that by opening myself up I will be hurt worse...so it is easier to live in my world of stories and dreams that could never happen in the first place.

I want to dream big but the dreams around me all seem to be related to marriage, kids and settling down. The first makes some sense to me and the second doesn't make sense as much as it seems like something Jesus did as a cruel joke and the third terrifies me beyond any conceivable notion worth even thinking about.

Settling?

Good grief, I don't know about that.

It feels like compromise, this whole loosing myself and the unlimited potential I theoretically have held at any given point of my life.

I mean I have so much potential that I dropped out of seminary and have had a series of dead end jobs that have paid so little that I can afford gas and the occasional meal out on the town with those I con/blackmail/bribe and kidnap into spending the time with me.

It is almost criminal how popular I am.

Yes.

I do crack myself up with my slightly nonsensical ramblings.

Happiness can't be found if you don't want it or aren't looking for it.

I know it sounds so silly and impossible but I think I have forgotten how to look for it and relish it in the small things.

I mean, at fourteen, I thought my job was to fix the world. You know, that can sort of screw a kids head up. What kind of crazy thought is that? I didn't even know WHAT a Bono was much less WHO he was.

I knew bits and pieces of music that I had no identification for but at the same time I saw U2 for the first time when I was fourteen and the television was on. I don't watch football if I can help it but I saw the halftime show of the Super Bowl. I don't know if it was the first time I heard "Where the Streets Have No Name" but it certainly was not the first time I felt that feeling of God entering the room.

Once again I'm not talking about Bono. His charisma (some say ego or his sunglasses) can be seen from space but my point is that like any willing person who is honest and doing what they love a certain joy and excitement comes across.

Joy is infectious but so is living in the doldrums.

No matter what a person is looking for they will find it. If they want the dark and all the pain in this world to drown themselves in then they can find it or you know, there is always the hope option.

Even those of us in circumstances out of our control and beyond our cognitive thought processes still get to choose how WE react.

Were we made for glory?
That is a sincere question that demands a personal and sincere answer.

If life is more than random incidental collisions of particle that don't even agree with each other from second to second, if life is more than just the base chemical reactions, more than the ideas of flesh and learning processes, if life is indeed more than what we can possible dare to dream than what are we made for?

What are these longings, these desires, these dreams, these hopes and the need for them?

It is interesting to think that Psalm 14 says, loosely, that "Only a fool says in his heart there is no God."

What does that mean?

That maybe, belief in God isn't this mental exercise, this sort of book or head knowledge that gets tallied up along with your blood pressure. That to understand God is to understand that nothing is something. To believe in God takes more than just our collectively exhausted mental exercises that are honestly just menial and trite at their best.

It's not like I can judge someone for not believing or call them a fool myself.

Personally, if I was an alien that came to earth and saw Pat Robertson on television I think I would stay just long enough to declare war on the earth and get it demolished as soon as extra terrestrially possible.

Faith is weird and paradoxical, which tends to scare people. Everyone wants an easy answear for something complex.

For example:

1 + 1 = ?

I.The answer everyone likes is two.

II.The answer from what I understand of truth is that humanity is loved by this mostly incomprehensible huge force of perfect divinity with no beginning or end and that calling him Yahweh is easier and more compact and that this Yahweh guy made rocks, trees, and people with personalities and free will. At some point things kind of got out of hand and so began this amazing love story of Yahweh trying to get His people to return to Him and had its climax with a Rabbi who said he was Yahweh and a man said some really neat things and made a lot of religious people angry enough to get him killed. Then you got the whole idea of salvation from sin, the restoration of the soul, the idea of people like minded living in community to support one another and only about twenty thousand different ideas I left out.

Which one would make the better bumper sticker?
I know these aren't original truths but I like to think I have been keeping an open mind with my search and from what I can tell they are all parts of what make up this amazing truth that is more infinite and unknowable than the female mind. Or theoretical physics for that matter.

Both intensely difficult subjects that make me break out in hives.

Although I'm not sure what hives really are. Except that bee's tend to live in them and they are a band with a strong fashion sense.

So girls and physics make me like honey and wearing suits.

Isn't logical progression a fun game?


Hmmm...maybe more later...

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

I am sad.

And sort of scared at the same time.

I am.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Truth is odd.
It goes hand in hand with trust though.
It's something I don't have much of when I look in the mirror.

I hear jeering voices mostly and my own sense of self imposed impending doom.


Hmm as much as I talk about metaphorical voices I'm surprised I haven't been locked up in a padded room yet.

Yay.
Is it sad I'm finding more theological relevance in some Queen songs than I do most 'Christian' ones?

Monday, February 9, 2009

I'm missing a magical little thing I would like to call 'job security'.

To do list:

-Finish applying on seminary websites for information.
-Find church resume and update it, then send it out.
-Continue to work on book
-Don't forget about work
-Continue working on the "Secret Project" for release at a later time.
-Keep trying to find a potential other job in case the store closes
-Remember to carry around a paper version of this list so I can add to it when I need to and not risk forgetting the three to five items which I can no longer remember. *sigh*
I could go for some rain right now, a torrential down pour onto my soul. Something to wash this exhaustion away with, something to start the day over with.
I don't know, I don't know and I don't know.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

I'm in some of the worst pain yet...and to top it off I missed U2's performance at the Grammys.

Go figure.
I'm feeling a bit tired with some hope going about somewhere.
But other times I feel so false and fake.
Paper thin and unable to make it.

I think I have discovered the end of despair but this world is good at fooling you. Is the problem seeing too much of myself when I should see more?

Perhaps, perhaps. Narcissism is a word at the top of my vocabulary.

Thankfully there is more than me, much more than me.
I'm not sure how I am feeling.
Right now at least.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Another brick wall.

I'm not sure how to see around something so immense and dare I say scary?

God, I just want to run and hide from all of this.
This monster I have created.

It is crazy, it is disturbing and a horror show wrapped in one. Being given the gift of creation with no limits but my imagination and whatever twists it can create?

Yikes.

It's like taking a look in me and being repulsed and sickend but just enough to continue staying in this mad circular loop and not find my way home to freedom.

So many false words can cloud my mind and my throat as I stand here, just trying to form real and articulate thoughts.

I want to hate love and fear it. From everyone and everything. The affection scares me if I was to be perfectly honest. I know truth, I've been exposed to its searing beauty, the feeling of having the dark separated form light, seeing my little habits and trinkets of a life devoted to self just fall out of thin air and lay beside me, idols I could never conceive of.

It is a crime to be so narcissistic.
But this is more.
It's my life I have embraced for so long.
This path of self devoted self destruction, playing the role of disheartened pilgrim or prophet forced into self impose exile with just as many contradictions as that statement.

I want to hide from this creature I have created.
It feels more like monster than man.
More beast than human.
This towering and pulsating profane tower of crudely assembled flesh and organic material. Some pride here, anger there and of course unnecessary amounts of envy and lust.

Odd mixtures I have created and worked to perfect.
Yet, there is more.
There is more than the simple pain or the complex quotient demanding resolution in a most perplexing way.

The longings of my heart are true.
To bathe in unearthly light, to feel the self obsessed narcissistic garbage I have been wearing called "Matthew" just wash away and just be me. Not this build up little action finger capable of several articulate movements, instead just free to breath and not be caught up in worthless and time consuming self berating.

Because it is just self worship.

Idol casting and really I don't even like how my nose turned out on the statue.
I never really wanted it that much anyway.
Just a little step, a little fresh air.
Before casting off the shackles and heading into the west.
Crossing a vast ocean for lands undying and such.

Thankfully peace, hope and love remain.
And they shall conquer all.
I can pretend to understand me but that would be a bigger lie then anything else that has escape my lips in this lifetime.

I could continue to open these scars and bleed until the self rightousness is fufilled but God, I am so tired of it all.

As quick as I am to abandon truth, love, hope and reality in the name of compromise and chilidish dream chasing of phantoms long dead, truth is more evident in the midsts of confusion and even dispair.

The pain is a cold shock.

Diving deep into the bitter chill just to realize the truth I knew to begin with, that what I'm looking for has been found.
It is another morning for what it is all worth.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Sometimes I hate myself beyond any absolutely conceivably describable rage, right now would indeed be one of those times.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Taste is indeed the enemy of art.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

I'm feeling like a bit insomniatic with just a touch of megalomatic.

Deceleration

Shades of Seasons will be published.

It has to be published.

I will publish it myself and sell it if I have to.

I'm hanging on a thin thread and gasping for air while trying to not loose the last visages of sanity that is remaining.

Every last prattled word will have meaning that you never it could have.

There will be no end to this and every turn you perceive as a disappointed failure will be yet another victory I will turn around to destroy you with.

There is no end in sight because every line is sightless, every thought pattern is interconnected to the overwhelming presence of absolute truth and you will not, I repeat, will not and never bring me down and destroy that which was preordained.

I may simply be the clay vessel that will be broken and sprinkled out across this world but the word will live on, the message will live on despite your interference since the garden.

Do what you will with your forked tongue and bite deep on my veins and spread thy venom as you will. I welcome you closer so that I might shove the dagger of absolution of all sin deeper into your spine.

His will be done and may you suffer in your eternal night of despondent regret.

Half Eaten Chocolate BeLoved Mixed With Bitter Sweet Love Stationed Right Next to Visceral Visual Pornography

The notes and chords strike down right now, soaring melodies fluent in every language but the one I can use right now.

Words simply defy gravity as I beg to steal some sense of mind, of peace about everything.

You know that idea that everything will be okay.

That despite growing trepidation everything will be okay.

It seems like religion is good for one thing and that one thing is that if you embrace it you are readying yourself for impact. You are trying to see reality head on and then let yourself just crash full on unto the ground.

Shattering like a bottle of aged wine, letting the purplish aged flavor splash across the sand, making awkward lines from the shards of glass as the ground drinks up every last sin.

It is this funny sense of vertigo, loosing sense of who you are and just why the hell you are even there in the first place; letting your hair down and kicking your shoes off just long enough to realize you are out of mind, out of place and the fact you were in the wrong neighborhood to begin with.

It's a trip, trip in your mind and through it.
Realizing the water is shallower that it looks
that looks are everything and you are what I mistook
when I took a look to look outside
and try and find beauty.
Instead I found a shallow pond
and not my ocean.
My soul used to ache for you
and now it is simply repulsed.
I would make outlines of my sins in blood
just to see you smile.
Now I want it back.
My time, my smiles, my heart and my blood.
Every wasted breath, every broken promise
and every half truth that gave birth to a lie.

I'm not asking for much,
really,
just a little bit of everything
and not much else.
Just a bit of sanctity
in a world of indulgence.
A little bit of purity
when every thought
is burning lust through that last.
A little bit of this
and a little bit of that
all that is good
and a little bit worst.
Just a tiny bit of pain.
Little bit burning
and a whole lot worse.

I can't give you anything more than this half formed lies that I pretend to believe. Your pictures are beauty that makes me cry, your skin is perfect just like the lies you wear on your shoulders like that lace you hold onto so dear.

I want to say I understand life but the more I see, the more I feel, the more I experince it all leaves me more unraveled than the last. It's like that pale lace dress, just starting to unravel; unlacing the lace really in a sad sort of way.

Some sort of way that makes me as nauseated as only real life can.

Humans cannot bear too much reality, much like T.S. Elliot said and I myself have endured more of its bitter sting than I can scarcely comprehend.

I feel the building tension in my throat as I brace to scream.

I've grown so sick of this world and this retched revolving vile procession. I feel the bible build and I want to vomit out all this pain, this growing resentment I feel. The shame of me being jealous of this trash you love to call your God, this jade statue that can't even hear your useless pining.

Hearing every useless scream that is never said as it rings in my ears, this useless bitter and trite conversation I have with myself every single night.

Why do i run circles in these squares?

Isn't it about I anyway?

As the music continues to hum with static hisses and popping screams across my electrical synapses causing my soul to relate in ways I don't even understand, maybe even while I still have your attention at this very moment I can remmeber just how slutty my own spiritual walk is while I am growing so fond of pointing fingers and throwing jagged stones.

I love seeing the blood of the guilty spilled so I think mine would be a good addition, right?

I mean, every time I see a good idea I love to be enamored with it, fawn over it and try to supplant the desires you placed in my heart at the beginning of this long night of dark pain.

I try in vain, I try so damn hard to forget you. I lay naked on this mixture of gravel and pavement and I just pull myself forward and let the jagged edges just rip into every last part of my body, letting blood just spill over onto the ground and fill in the cracks making such a pretty pretty petty pattern on the ground for you to see.

My religion, my spiritual endeavors of selfish self indulgent self assured fiction that I love to paint all over myself.



The hours bleed by into moments separated by segments of serrated edges.
Exasperatingly enough time stand stills every time I stare at the clock, not even the second hand is nice enough to click aaway for me.

But the moment I slow down long enough to realize things are not about me the time rips through me in ways I can't even pretend to understand and you know, oh God you know the pain it rips forward out of the soul and paints all over the walls and the floor and the ceiling. All of this bitter pain of ideas lost, lusted over and bought again and again for a petty little price you couldn't have sold me on if you tried, just because I wanted it for free.