Explosively Explicit Rant

Trying is absolutely frivolous.
Pointless beyond reason.
Nothing here is going to last.
No connection or relationship is worth investment or trying.

But my nature be damned I cannot quit.
I want to throw up all of this emotion, I want to be rid of it.
I want to show my revulsion with feeling.
I want to die on the inside and never feel again.
I want to be numb to life.
I never want to breath again.
But I can't quit.

You won't let me.

I'm a child, spoiled child who wants to throw a tantrum.
I want to lay here in the mud and blood and the beer and weep.
Weep in shame for everything I am and everything that I am not.
I'm so insecure and I have to pain it in bright read letters on here so everyone can see it.

I'm weak, I'm sick.
Physically I just want to give up because it feels like I won't heal and I won't get better. I don't sleep, I can't and when I do it's nightmares...mentally I'm not here.
Emotionally I'm stretched beyond the snapping point and feel like the ground is just sliding out from under me and it's only a moment before I loose the rest of these.

I have to get out of this house...I'm afraid for my life, I can't focus...writing is this blob of complete crap...this isn't anything.
This is rubbish, this entire stupid blog is nothing.
I keep throwing myself at mirrors and cutting myself on them to just find I'm just Narcissus, following in love my own image and no one was there in the first place.

I'm sending words out to no one and the only person's time I'm wasting is my own.
It's not a letter in a bottle, it's an encyclopedia of hate locked inside my own prison, my own coffin.

Why am I trying?
Why am I fighting the inevitable?
All of this will fade.
Everyone.
No one will be here to stand with me.
I'll be fighting by myself, alone again.
Few people, a damn few people understand me.
Understand why I am trying to stand at all.
This isn't the movies, this ain't a game.
Few people care, few people see the truth.
No one wants to give up their comfort.
No one wants to sell everything to just buy a worthless piece of land with a single prized pearl in it.
No one is going to give up their life just so they can gain the eternal.
It's pointless.
I'm beyond being on another level, I'm just in another plane altogether.
This isn't just about ministry, it is about life itself.
The darkness that encroaches every aspect of life, people selling themselves short over mud pies when they have all of eternity within grasp.
People can't grasp the temporal, much less the true nature of life.

I'm not saying I know.
I just know enough to be dangerous.
I know that I don't know.
And God it is driving me mad.
I know Love, I've felt and seen it.
It terrifies me as much as I'm intoxicated by it.
I want freedom, I need freedom.
My mind will never shut off until everything crashes down forever.

People want a show.
They want emotion.
They paid good money to see me beg and that's why they are here.
People want to see those on the pedestals come crashing down.
They live vicariously the plastic screens and everyone says they want the happy ending but they pay to see lives crumble so we can all go back home to our nihilistic hell holes and stay there.
Apathy consumes because it is easier to pretend humans are just numbers, that unborn babies are mere collections of souls and the people being raped and murdered in fucking genocides are useless figures...uneducated people useless and not worth anything in the grand scheme.

I hate arrogance so much.
I hate my own the most.
I hate the scum I represent as ministry.
Religion is a sham.
Jesus is the life, the truth and only way that works...everything else is utter bullshit coined to help us ignore the suffering around us and so we can wash our hands of responsibility.

The more I read about how Jesus LOVES, the more I realize I am a selfish brat who doesn't care about anything besides laying here in this trash heap of my things. I say I want to change the world but I'm too much of a coward.

Martyrs, the ones who willingly embrace being beaten to death, starving themselves for others, giving their lives to the Truth (not those mislabeled dogmatic fools that are nothing more than blind idiots who blow themselves up because they are neurotically depressed and too scared to face the fact that life is complex, not simply black and white).

I don't want to suffer.
I complain, I'm frightened, I'm scared out of my mind and I can't help but swear because of how outraged and terrified I am.

I don't want comfort either.
I want to stew in this rage and let it overtake me.
I want to be the little child who lays down and cries while beating the floor because of how absolutely terrified I am.

I'm terrified of being right.
That Jesus is the Messiah who loves us all and my 'job' is to love people, build relationships and tell them that they are infinitely loved.

Being loved scares me, it's easier to be feared and hated than loved...love covers over a multitude of sins and means you can be redeemed from the cesspool you live in...it means you can't live in sin and pretend that life is black and white and a game.

I want to live in games, virtual settings, roleplays...these pretend worlds because I hate my reality so much...who I am.

I hate knowing the Father loves me so much Jesus died for my sins, rose again and loves me infinitely and holds nothing against me. I hate knowing it because I am created to love Him and love all of you and everyone else.

I'm supposed to love the religious, the conservative, the liberals, my ex-girlfriends, my friends, my family...and I would rather just put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger than talk to most of these people because communicating is ripping my heart apart...trying to live in eternity and this world at the same time is ripping me to pieces and I can't function at all.

I cry and it doesn't help.
I ask for help.
I pray.
God I pray.
I'm more alone now than I was before.
The more I pray the more I feel the void.
Where did You go?
I had idols I don't want.
Just rip me out of reality.
Take me home, I want to go HOME please.
If You are more than a delusion, the makings of a sick mind...just help me push past this or take me away.
I can't breath.
It hurts so bad...please.

Empyreal.

If I actually try to finish reading Jame Joyce's "Ulysses" will someone please just fugging shoot me in the face?

Please?

"The Bell Jar" - Showbread

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.

"Hallelujah" - Leonard Cohen

Despair

I'm so frustrated I want to punch myself in the face.
I have no idea what I'm doing or where I am going.
Money...money...money...
Why does everything come back to that?
Whatever happened to faith?
Am I just prone to making irrational stupid decisions until I die?

What is being an adult?
I don't get this.
I feel like I'm going to have a breakdown or a panic attack.
I don't want these strings, I hate money.
I want to just be cast away from this place.
But I just can't cut everything away because...

God.

What?

I just don't know.
Every time I make plans and try to do the right thing, stuff explodes.
I'm so freaking sick of it.
I try not to make plans and things fail.
I make plan and things fail.
Does it make sense why I'm frustrated?
I can't function, I suck at this stuff.
I wish I would stop hurting long enough so I could think straight.
I wish my stupid heart would stop functioning long enough for my brain to sever it with cold and accurate logic.

I want to hate everything but I can't because my heart bleeds with emotion and empathy for everyone around me.

I'm so weak, I'm so needy, just a child
just a child in need of your love.
And here we come
to this line again
and baby I don't know what to tell you.
Just pray things hold together
long enough,
just long enough
so we don't die
and in the meantime
maybe,
just maybe baby
we'll live long enough to see the sunrise.

Time Come, Time Gone, Time Alone

Time coming and going
speeding across the line
fleeting and flowing
with the sighs and groans
of people living and dying
as you sit here aching and crying
and I'm here waiting,
just waiting for the sun to come
and waiting for the moon to set
across the sky
and I sit here waiting
to share tea
with my bitter loneliness
and self imposed isolation
as I run from myself
and into the arms
of myself,
my love.

"Dragon Attack" - Queen

John Deacon is one of my biggest bass influences and this little known Queen song is one of my favorite bass lines ever. Just raw, aggressive and feels like it is going to blow you away.

Quote of the Day - Part Two:

"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" - T.S. Elliot


S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.


LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question … 10
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 15
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 20
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; 25
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate; 30
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go 35
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair— 40
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare 45
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, 50
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— 55
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? 60
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress 65
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets 70
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! 75
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? 80
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, 85
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while, 90
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”— 95
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while, 100
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen: 105
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
. . . . . 110
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use, 115
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me. 125

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Quote of the Day:

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
-T.S. Elliot

Despite my increasing pain my hope has not been murdered yet.
Yeah...you know what of and what for...
It's not the end, I do not know what is beginning...but this is not the end...

All encompassing darkness.

"Because I'm already gone
Felt that way all along
Closer to you every day
I didn't want it that much anyway"

Ah...the unending joys of abdominal pain mixed with no sleep.

Could my life get much better?

I think no.

Quote of the Day:

"The unexamined life is not worth living."
-Socrates

Feeling...quite weak and shaky...nothing too bad...just a bad day.
Things could be worse...thankfully it's looking up.
Bright lights ahead, hope eternal...even when hurting...even in pain..and being so distant and away...

Would anyone be surprised, or really care, that I'm in a lot of pain?

Worse...and...worse...

God I hate pain.
Please?
Please help me.
Just make it stop.
God please.

Why didn't someone tell me about the next Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy book being out?

http://www.amazon.com/Another-Thing-Eoin-Colfer

Who fell down on the job with that one?

I would sleep if I could
but then that would be giving,
giving in and giving up
and to what end?

"not just a feeling
it's the reason
we know a line is crooked
`cause we know what's straight
that little voice inside

as I lay me down
I confess
I'm a fool for you
no more, no less

and in this world turning gray
strikes a chord when i say
there is black
there is white
there is wrong
and there is right"

Peculiar oh so peculiar.

Quote of the Day, the Fourth:

"I imagine that right now, you're feeling a bit like Alice. Hmm? Tumbling down the rabbit hole? "
-Morpheus, 'The Matrix'

A Post Marked Letter

Someday I hope I can bring this,
someday I hope to give,
someday I hope to return
and have it not miss.

I want to give you
these things,
I want you to have
so much,
but it's not my place.

Everyone wants security,
the trappings of divine love
and the freedom from being guilty
and how I can give it
I know not.

I just know my words are weak
and my rhymes are fleeting
at this very late hour.
But there is sincerity
lining my hope.

I feel the sunrise
and know the morning
will be rushing all to soon
and what of the night?
There is a sacredness,
this divine covering
oft times missed at this hour,
witching and bewitching it is.

"If God Will Send His Angels" - U2

That was an unexpected, albeit way too short, blessing from above just now.
Heh I know I try too hard and it may seem silly...but sometimes it is nice to just see that now...if that makes sense. =)

"Hold Me Jesus" - Rich Mullins

Quote of the Day - Part Three:

"I grew up hearing everyone tell me 'God loves you'. I would say big deal, God loves everybody. That don't make me special! That just proves that God ain't got no taste. And, I don't think He does. Thank God! Because He ...takes the junk of our lives and makes the most beautiful art."
-Rich Mullins

Quote of the Day - Part Two:

"I am deeply distressed by what I only can call in our Christian culture the idolatry of the Scriptures. For many Christians, the Bible is not a pointer to God but God himself... God cannot be confined within the covers of a leather-bound book. I develop a nasty rash around people who speak as if mere scrutiny of its pages will reveal precisely how God thinks and precisely what God wants."
-Brennan Manning

Quote of the Day:

"The Bible is not a book for the faint of heart--it is a book full of all the greed and glory and violence and tenderness and sex and betrayal that befits mankind. It is not the collection of pretty little anecdotes mouthed by pious little church mice--it does not so much nibble at our shoe leather as it cuts to the heart and splits the marrow from the bone. It does not give us answers fitted to our small-minded questions, but truth that goes beyond what we even know to ask."
-Rich Mullins

It feels like every time I get my mind off of...and not thinking of...

Everything comes rushing back at once.
As much as there can be with so little.
I think I just need to find a way to keep my mind engaged and not worrying about the future, just taking care of everything I can as I can.

It's as silly as infatuation is...

Being lost in me as I'm lost in...

I can't give a concise disposition because of..

So much and so little at the same time.

Aggravating inconsistencies as I wander about wondering and being curious about what is to come, in this and all there is to see.

Charlie Brown...drawn Manga style? o_O

Quite an interesting take on one my most beloved cartoon strips:

http://shuroki.com/2007/07/22/charlie-brown-manga-style/

Note: I just realized that the post for those drawings was done on my twenty-first birthday...strange.

It is rather amazing that the number of problems I have that suspiciously vanish when I just sleep for a while.

If I ever get back on a regular eight hour sleep schedule I think I'll loose my poetry writing skills but I'll regain a slight semblance of sanity.

Oh decisions, decisions...

It's sad what depresses me and gets me into ruts and to how seriously I contemplate death and the nature of suicide.

This is all just so unnaturally silly and pointless.

I'm not a nihilist, life has meaning but everything people are getting so worked up about is meaningless...

Ecclesiastes is about the only wisdom book in the Bible I bother to constantly reread but the basic message is to love and fear God, do work you love and enjoy marriage.

That is it.

Love God, love people and stay busy.

Nothing else, no other expectations and God that is nice.
Because right now I just don't care.
I'm so sick of everything else and don't want to bother contemplating the absolute absurdity of what this all doesn't mean anymore.

I don't even want hugs or to be seen.
I want enough peace and quiet from the feelings of unexpressed internal agony long, freedom long enough so I can just finish why I'm here so I can lay down and go to sleep.

I want to go Home.
I can't stand being an outcast, this alien with no homeland...I'm a stranger who is only getting more lost and disconnected as the days go on.

Only a handful know of the Lover I speak of, only a few know what it is like to look up and realize you ARE standing in the hand of eternity and that hand loves you and died for you, died and lived again to fix the mistakes you made.

I need to know someone who feels it as deep, feels the agony of sin and know it's been washed away. I need someone to help me that loves Jesus more than they could ever hope to love me...I just need a reminder that despite the drowning feelings...that everything is going to be okay...I'm not the only one insane in this overwhelmingly dull and sane world.

I'm so sick of the hate, of the pain and all this useless trash.

"Midnight" - Blindside

"One day this world will see me at the horizon.
One day from a distant light,
and just before I stand to face my Love
I'll turn around
and with a smile I'll say my goodbyes,
just one last goodbye.
Goodbye."

Not Enough Time, Not for Now, Not for Later

Yeah I'm drunk on fear
and intoxicated with pain.
Trembling hands shaking
from the pending collapse.
I'm addicted to me
hoping for a collage of hope
while smirking the smile of cynicism.

I'm closing the curtain
the one that was torn
and take another handful of pills
as my vision fades back out
and the tremors return
and I return to the subject
that is always about me.

I got a note in the post
saying my old idols
they are getting jealous
and missing me,
wanting to know when
they can come back over for tea.
The golden calf of adultery,
the alcoholism I haven't developed yet
and my prejudicial hate all there
sending out love letters.

I don't sleep anymore
I gave it up
because of life
starting to call me out
on my religious bluffs
and the slight of hand
about my frailness
when it comes to this illness.

I hear the abrasive guitar
and the screams it matches in my soul.
I wanted mainstream success
to be a poet with the ages
and now I don't care.
Let it burn,
let this all burn down
to the sounds of nihilistic glee
that comes with the Knowledge of all knowledge.

I can't breath with the weight
pressing on my lungs
forcing the air out
as a prayer
and I want to be free
so sick of me
so sick of me
as I cry mercy
and for love
oh my Love.

What if I could reach
deep inside
and feel your heartbeat tonight?
Would you feel me,
could you hear my doubt
and feel the fear inside of me?
Would it strike you as funny
to know I'm more terrified
of happiness
than I ever was of this illness?

Burn my lips
and cut my tongue,
just take these words from me
and purify this mind.

Music can't tame the savage beast
barely held in check
right behind my breast bone
as I scream the profane
while clutching to promises
of a blessing
and God,
it is now or never.

The finite is calling out the infinite.
Crush me like an insect
or heal me.
Restore my heart
or blast me into nothingness.
I can't speak of a preference
because I don't care.
I'm too numb to care,
I'm too number to bother
because to me
death is just preferable
because I'll never speak sin,
I'll never break away from You
and never run again.

You see the coward I am
and the fool I've been.
How drunk off of fear
and how intoxicated I am by sin.
My soul is stretched,
too little over too much area
and Lover rescue me.

Save me or end me
it's all the same
from down here
in this hole
below the ground.

"Truth is an arrow and the gate is narrow that it passes through,
He unleashed His power at an unknown hour that no one knew.
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness?
Can I cast it aside, all this loyalty and this pride?
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease
Until He returns?"

Throwing myself off a bridge to test is healative powers is out of the question so I'll just settle for throwing myself off my bed.

I've got nothing left.
Why are we still here?
I would like to exit stage left.
Can I come Home now, please?

Just one step, one phrase and one word at a time...

Quote of the Day:

"Hope is hope for infinite Hope."
-J.R.R. Tolkien

A Night

It was a beautiful concert.

So much soul, so much spirit, so much power.

As of right now it's being rebroadcast for a second time and supposed to be for the next couple of days:

http://www.youtube.com/U2official

If you can watch this and still not like U2:
1.You are not trying very hard.
2.I think you lack anything that resembles taste.
3.I love you all the same but really now, beauty people! It's beauty!


I can't sleep.
As silly as the right thing may be some days...it's the right thing.
God knows I'm going to miss getting a morning wake up call from my beloved and beautiful Muse, to deliver news and inspire me to new challenges.

I don't know the future and doubt I want to...I don't know where I'm going just that I am going. I'll expire when I do and will fight to do the right thing until my last breath.

I'm trying to figure out who I really am...what it means to be an adult...what it means to be a real man...what responsibility I should have...what it is I'm going to throw myself into.

I only know I really do not know me as well as I thought I did.

God I want to burn with a passion to love and serve, I want to fall madly in love with who You are and with loving people. I'm sick to death of my selfishness and putting myself ahead of actual love.

Breath words of life into my mouth, stretch my heart and mind to the breaking part and just consume me with flames of love.

Show me the reality, the hope and the love that can be found.
If there are words I can speak, may the lovely Muse hear and take heart that hope prevails through the night.

One day I may stop slamming my face into this wall...but why stop while I'm so far behind?

Ah reincarnation...has absolutely nothing to do with my spiritual or religious beliefs but for fun sake here are some things I wish I was either born as or if I get screwed over and sent back I will like to be:

-A rock.
-A grain of sand.
-A teaspoon.
-A droplet of rain.
-A hydrogen atom.
-A philosophical tangent.

Or my personal favorite:
-A Cherry Blossom.

Another day, another night and another day with and for no sleep...I can't get these thoughts...these worries to leave my mind.

Why do I even care at this point?
I just wish I could drown in apathy and be rid of this stupid, useless and broken heart.

God.

Simply pathetic.

Ah...that was quite an unexpected sudden burst of beauty.

"Incandescent moon is shining
Just for you tonight
Shimmering a golden halo
Does it follow just beyond your sight?
Sigh
You're an angel
Wanting wings for flight
Tonight"

Quote of the Day:

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one”
-C.S. Lewis