Fame is Not What it Once Was

Fame is not what it once was

It did not do what it now does

A King would rule, a Saint – anoint

To serve the people – fame’s case in point

Yes, fame is not what it once was

So widely grasped for “just because”

No noble cause, just pride and gain

To serve the selfish, indulge the vain

Those who lived by what was right

Replaced by attention’s appetite

We lost ourselves along the way

Our cultures plagued by moral decay

And while, in light, we all agree

The darkness proves: wicked, are we

Perhaps one day fame will return

To what it was: no one’s concern

Back to roots we know once were

When life was not a fast-paced blur

When people cared for what was true

For those you love, and who loves you

What I’d Give

So bittersweet, this day to me

Each year it lies in wait

The pain so strong, the memories: glee

I’m struck by love and hate

The loss of those we hold most dear

Turns to tragedy, life’s play

And while you feel the hurt all year

We all have that one day

A time when all emotions rise

Consuming every thought

We try, in vain, to don disguise

Our mind, so overwrought

For her I write this, through endless tear

I’d give anything on Earth

To spend, with her, just one last year

This day: my mother’s birth

Wanderlust

Wanderlust, traveler, perhaps even gypsy

So many labels they’ve applied, but in reality

Living life is all she wants, it’s really that simple

Her spirit shines through both her smile, and her cute cheek dimple

Life is meant for living, yes, a thing she truly gets

Singing, dancing, spinning round, she loves without regrets

Always brightening what is dark, this girl, so free of care

Defined by “one day at a time”, she’s happy everywhere

Some may say she’s weak, not strong

But she knows that they all are wrong

She is not lost, like others say

This girl’s just finding her own way

For all the things we say and do

There is but one thing that is true

Life, she says, is nothing more

Than canvas, white, awaiting more

It’s you who gets to fill the blank

And for this chance, we all should thank

This beautiful and wondrous place

For giving us the life it’s graced

King in all but Name

Put my whistle to the wind, there’s naught another ‘round

Divided is the road I’m on, my choice shall prove profound

“Go left,” says he, “Go right!” says she

The demons, they’ve misled

I ask “which way?”

“That way!” They say

And so I point my sled

Every choice we make is a decision in our head

A string of choices, such is life, that’s all until we’re dead

When these choices come to you, what ever will you say?

Will you take the high road out or will you run away?

Make the choices that they love, My Lord you’re looking great

Undermine the ones they want and soon you will find hate

Treat the people as you would yourself, and you’ll find fame

They’ll sing your praises, call you King, in everything but name

The Old Unknown Aristocrat

Some people get it, most people don’t

Some people will, most people won’t

Some people love, most people hate

Most people: good. Some people: great.

 

Maybe I’m the one who’s been mistaken after all

Maybe all this fighting’s a good reason for a wall

The more I see the more I hear the less I seem to understand

It’s almost like this world is pieced together and events are planned

 

Confusion is the currency they’ve built all of their kingdoms on

White homes do not host their crowns they’re places that they place a pawn

Puppets playing House is what we’re looking and we’re pointing at

And all the while he’s up there, the Old Unknown Aristocrat

 

We don’t even see all of the strings and pieces he commands

But he’s the one who wrote all of the things for which your flag now stands

His name: unknown. His work: unknown. He dodges notoriety

The master of this game knows this is how you mold society

 

Five steps ahead, he always knows which side he has to pick

Its easy when you know the things that make the people tick

This Old Unknown Aristocrat said of Earth, and all its flaws

If I control its money, I care not who makes its laws

The Fear of Death

Some time ago, I sat upon a balcony, just staring on

My mind, my thoughts, my very soul, sat wondering where it all goes

I pondered whether, when we die, the scrolls are true, or just a lie

And as I sat there, lost in thought, a child came, a book he’d brought

Sitting down right next to me, he looked me in the eye, said “see?”

“Can’t you tell that he’s up there, and wants to free you from despair?”

Softly smirking, to he I said “my child, so many things I’ve read”

“Allah, Buddha, Krishna too; the testaments, both old and new”

Sadly sighing, this boy looked down and shedding tears, began to frown

“But mister,” this boy said to me, “our souls live for eternity”

“And if you doubt this, so I’m told, you’re cast aside ‘till time grows old”

I paused a moment, listening, and thought back to my christening

“Listen, son, for Matthew says, seek the kingdom; righteousness”

“The truth is all I want to know; to gaze upon a clear window”

“Do not let past transgressions rule, do not let dogma play the fool”

And then, with one last final breath, I said to him: “Do not fear death.”

Piece of Mind

Come close, softly whisper all the secrets in your mind

What’s buried in its darkest depths, shrouded and confined?

Until the veil is lifted and what’s hidden is exposed

No one knows just who you are; the truth is undisclosed

 

So many fail to understand, refuse to comprehend

Ignoring harsh reality for a world where they pretend

And yet I find that there are times, most often late at night

I envy them; condemn my thoughts as not a strength, but plight

 

So dearly how I wish that I could adequately say

My core convictions and beliefs without getting in my own way

Split my skull and slice a shard of brain, my thoughts I’d find

Yet fear that most could handle just a small piece of my mind

 

I long to liberate my peers, to free them of this place

Where hatred, malice, deceit, and lies all rule the human race

I’m gripped and tasked by unknown forces; I mustn’t lose belief

Relentless faith shall fuel the drive, till death or my relief

 

 

 

The Worst Tinder Date Ever

Come here close, come here, see?

“Are these the things you said I need?”

“Wait a second, what is this?”

My trick worked, now you do belong to me

Come on down, don’t be shy

“I think that we should let it be”

Just you wait, you won’t regret

“You’re really starting to scare me”

You worry wart, this room is safe

“Are you just playing hard to get?”

Ask yourself, would I do that?

“I’m not sure sir cause we just met”

Here we are, just take a look!

“This place seems like its cool I guess”

You’re oh so right, now have a seat

“I see the checkerboard and chess”

There there now, let’s have a peek

“A peek at what, you silly man?”

A look at at all the options, see?

Because you’ve walked into my plan

“Wait a minute, what’d you say?”

Don’t fret now darling, just relax

Get yourself a comfy seat

And sit there till I sharp my ax

“Haha man, very funny,

Quit the acting, come here now”

You think I’m acting? Oh my dear

It’s not a joke, I’ll show you how

There we are, buckled in

“The hell is this you’re being weird?”

That’s okay, for very soon

I’ll show you what you all have feared

I think I’ll start with toenails, yes?

Shucking them like oyster shells

Soon you’ll realize who I am

And wish you were in seven hells

But wait right there and say a prayer

You aren’t going to see the light

And when I’m done and had my fun

You’ll wish you hadn’t swiped me right

My Hands

Never idle, on the move, ink pours on the page

The force that drives, a needed guide, is with me on this stage

I try to be an optimist, but sometimes I’m consumed by rage

Thinking of how things are done and how they could so quickly change

Yes all the world’s a stage you know, it’s something that you shan’t forget

The sun and stars would get along if only they’d shake hands and met

Humanity could follow suit, we’ve got the tech but somehow, yet

We manage to exacerbate the very things we should forget

Fossil fuels and everything, you know that it’s all temporary

But tell me more of how it works, and how mining isn’t mercenary

If you truly want to change the world into a gilded sanctuary

Then play the long game not the short, and hire you an actuary

Maybe they can run the numbers, project a truth that you won’t like

Their findings likely point to truth like human beings should take a hike

Sure, we all know that we need to build that interstate or that turnpike

Yet as we do this trees are cut, it’s like the land of the Third Reich

Yes it’s so, the world’s a stage, it’s just a game of checkers, chess

We put our pieces on the board, where we think they’ll help us best

And when we find a new chance to establish ourselves, let me guess

You want to build a military presence just to clean the mess

Sure my man, come on down, bring your gadgets and your tech

Cause I don’t really care what happens as long as I get that big check

You see this is why the world is wasted, all it’s countries are a wreck

We let the people be in charge that only care for their own neck

Maybe one day you’ll wake up, realize that this dream of yours

Doesn’t have to happen this way and you won’t be on all fours

Rising up and taking charge, you’ll fight and finely take these lands

Until then I’ll try my best, just writing with my moving hands

Ripples

Ripples, I see down below

The waves are moving, soft and slow

Like zephyrs, gently drifting through

The water’s stillness calms and soothes

I cast a rock into its deeps

Watch it sink as this willow weeps

I see the first bright evening star

Across the lake, the trees afar

The coast adorns a bright green coat

It’s shadow cloaks a lonely boat

My friend, on four, barks on a whim

As children there, begin to swim

A sigh escapes, the calmest breath

There’s so much life to live ‘fore death

And as I stand, to pack my things

I thank this world, for all it brings

Scars

They’re carried each and every day, they never ever go away. I cannot seem to find a place where minds are clear and thoughts erased. They stay with me, they’re always there, it seems a saddened love affair. My heart is blackened when the air begins to flow with fervent prayer. The things I’ve done, the things I’ve not, they occupy my every thought. The questions that I ask myself are known to me; and no one else. The answers lie in of itself, or maybe on my dark bookshelf. Our past, it haunts, it makes us see, that which we often disagree. For truth is that, and nothing else. It doesn’t care for time, or self. It shines its light, and nothing more. It opens every locked, closed door. Yet when we see the things we’ve done, we often want to turn and run. Such deeds exist, there in your past, and if you let them ever-last, your further will be chained and cast to those who judge and those who blast.

Let your scars, while they remain, fade away into the plain. You’ll always have them, they’ll maintain, but use them for your growth and gain. Learn their passage, learn their plight, and if you ever have to fight, your scars will tell you what to do; if it’s wrong, or if it’s true. Some see them as the wounds of life, but I prefer to use them like a knife. Every time I’m broken, down; my scars remind me that I’ve found. I’ve always found that this will pass, and every time, it always has.

Love can be the best of things, but think before you exchange rings. Be certain that they are the one, that love and bond won’t come undone. Take a look back at your past. Make sure this time that it will last.

And if you doubt things, look to the stars. Then, look back, at all your scars.

Hide & Seek

Sweaty brow, aching back, home packed lunch and the sleepless nights

That’s how things were done when people worked, reaching up for higher heights

Dirt and grit, skin and bone, not a moment thrown into the waste

Men would own up to the challenge, no obstacle they wouldn’t face

Things got done, cities built, on the shoulders of their work

They didn’t need a safe space, they built these things from grit and dirt

Now, today, we watch as our children have their feelings hurt

Instead of saying “toughen up”, we tell them “get revenge and throw some dirt”

Paint the people disagreeing as bigots and misogynists

As they yell and cry aloud, raising pickets and their fists

Its sad to me, watching as we become so weak

Many years from now, the stronger will destroy the meek

Its not immoral, its not unjust, to teach your children to be strong

Look out at this harsh, cruel world and tell me that you know I’m wrong

And if you do, then friend, this is the only thing I’ll say to you

I hope you taught them hide and seek, cause hiding’s all they’ll know to do

What Are You Waiting For?

All the things out there you see, they’re shining, glistening, calling thee. Why wait? Its there, right in front of you, all that needs to happen is for you to stand and do. Do, don’t wait, don’t put it off, you get one life and time, it costs. Please don’t let yours go to waste, dream your dream with utmost haste, chase it till your legs are through, and when they’re gone your arms will do. Make it there, no matter what, don’t give in and don’t say “but”, this life is yours and only yours, I tell you as I’m on all fours. I beg that people understand that life is not some fairy land, its filled with things we need to do and if undone, then it’s on you.

So simple things can really be when eyes are open and you see, take a glance over the sea and wake up to reality. All the things you dreamt you’d be don’t have to fade into the breeze, you can make these dreams come true if only you believed in you. That’s all it takes, I speak the truth, so much is wasted in our youth, if only we could comprehend that time is not a thing to lend, it never stops taking its toll and always ends up with our soul.

I ask you, what is it that you’re waiting for? Someone else to open the door? Listen, friend, please listen close. Absorb these words before your ghost. Your time here is not infinite. We don’t know what happens when we quit. Some say God and some say not, but either way we’ve got one shot. One chance to do the things we dream, one chance to love both you and me. Take this chance and never stop. Take it to the mountaintop. Take it to the ends of Earth, and give a reason to your birth.

Throughout your life, find every door. Fill your heart, then fill it more. And when you find something to love, ask yourself: what is it that I’m waiting for?

The Bath of the Birds

I sit here in silence, observing the fray

They jump and they fly and they chirp and they play

No notion of others, surroundings are clear

They have no concern for the things that are near

A troupe, all together, just having some fun

Enjoying themselves now that rainfall has come

A friendship? A family? Their dynamic unknown

I’m certain of only one thing that they’ve shown

Simplicity flies in this unit of four

No worries, no stress, no rich and no poor

Their life is just that, a puddle to play

A place to post up and put worries away

And as I observe, these birds look around

They hop and they leap and leave marks on the ground

I can tell that they’re happy, such joy do they feel

As they chirp and they play, I can see it’s so real

They love one another, there’s no question of that

I can tell just by watching, it’s a sobering fact

I can’t help but wonder, as I see these birds play

Why humans can’t see things this simple today

This life wasn’t forged for such fury and fear

We were meant to be loved, all my friends, it’s so clear

Today, make a promise, I beg for your words

Reflect this world’s beauty, like this bath of the birds

Coping Mechanisms

How often do I lift my eyes, shake my head, sigh and realize that its all a pit of lows and occasional highs, an endless board that’s gamed by the wise. The ones who see it, so full of their lies, often sit back and laugh at the pitiful cries. The cries of the pure who don’t don the disguise, fooled by a dusk masked as delusional sunrise. The mask which covers a world we so strongly despise. We believe that the ship won’t inevitably capsize, and pretend not to grasp what our behavior implies; that despite our attempts to understand and surmise, we’re just animals that honestly, Earth should ostracize. No better than the beasts we pretentiously analyze, convincing ourselves that we’re so civilized despite the unparalleled evil we all authorize through the so-called society we’ve created which serves to patronize.

Yes, I suppose it is better to follow the rule, for if we woke up we’d all feel like a fool. Its easy to walk on the straight path to school, to do what they say like the oxen and mule, to keep the wheel turning as the Engine of Civilization uses us as its fuel. We go with the flow to avoid ridicule, distracted from truth by an empty, false jewel.

I question the things I’m told to believe. I refuse to be ignorant, fake, or naïve. I’m guided by reality, not by things we conceive; not money, not fame, not things that deceive. The Tunic of Truth is the clothing I weave; respect forms its fabric and love hems its sleeve. I have no concern for false things we perceive, instead I look forward at the goals I’ll achieve.

Silently sitting, stillness in scope, I gaze at this road with a semblance of hope. So many around see the slippery slope, and join the campaign, hold these reigns made of rope. This rope isn’t normal, it holds divine horoscope; it represents action to those who sit back and cope.

Alone

So many things in life I see, they’re happening all around me. The love, the kids, the joy I see; they sooth my heart and set me free. The warmth I feel when I emcee is cherished oh so fervently, and even when they disagree I only smile, lovingly. Under this Umbrella Tree sits my past and my own memory, and as I watch the fun and glee I can’t help but to think of me. The child that I used to be, when in all the world, importantly, the only thing that mattered was how to climb that big, tall tree.

So quickly do we rush to grow. I need not say it, for you all know. This life that He thought to bestow flies by so fast like that photo taken by the best of show that all the others want to know. They need to know because they lie, as they get mighty and so high, and as the time comes when they die, they suddenly now say goodbye.

Remember me for all my deeds, the feigned actions and false decrees, for all that flows in this here breeze is reputation; legacies. The things I did when I was young, they matter not; they’re all unstrung. That song I sang, I never sung; I hung it on this lying rung. No lies escape misleading tongue, just look upon us, who among? Who among us can be tried? Who knows, who’s now identified? If logic, here, shall be applied then think and please come to decide that all who feign, and all who lied will one day cleanse and purify.

And now I sit here, though unknown, looking down at pad and phone. I think of all the time that’s flown, the love I’ve lost and past I own. I am no King that holds a throne, I am no skeleton or bone, I’m only who I’ve always known, the same thread that my life has sewn, what once was hidden, now is shown. The man I am was forged in stone, my spirit; glass that She had blown, awaiting this new brighter tone, I cherish that I’m all…alone.

The Forge

Silence sits so still inside, supplying souls so simplified, the subjects seem to mystify the saints that I’ve since satisfied.  Now that I have shed my pride I ask if doors now open wide, and though the answer is implied I fear its fake; that they all lied. There’s no direction, there’s no guide that steers this ship, and though I’ve tried to weather storms that won’t subside I’ve got no compass to abide. My sails are tight, yes, they’ve been tied and readied for the Great Divide and as I start this fabled ride there is no other at my side.

I’m at my post, all alone, and though I know that now I’ve grown the doubt still tries to fight, dethrone; yet I persevere and hold my own. The chains that held me I’ve outgrown, that which haunts me, the past I own, I’ve shed – forgotten, now unknown as I reach this stepping stone.

This foot forward is my first, my introduction to this thirst. This step I take, it might be cursed, and if it is then do your worst. I fear no devil, nor decree; no God or unknown deity, the tides are calm on this here sea, Poseidon shares my fraught decree.

I live my life on my own term. I don’t need someone to affirm the fact that I will always do that which causes thoughts anew for when we start to ask them “Why?’ The world will change; ideas can’t die.

Ideas can’t die, they’re just a thought, it sadly seems we’ve all forgot, we’re so caught up in right or wrong that every tune’s the same old song. Pass the blame on someone else, when our conscience says there’s no one else, no one other than our self, rugs are swept and acts are shelved.

Why is it that our world’s so fake? The ones who say they are awake just seem to point out each mistake yet nothing’s done to mend the break. Corrupted chaos is still here, and when we claim its disappeared another talking head we hear; controlled by the same puppeteer. Its this that’s caused this buccaneer to use the weapon of Shakespeare and fight a war that endears the values of the common ear.

What weapon is this, you may ask? Words I fill in this here flask. I carry them with every mask, uncorking them when I am tasked with questions that I can’t explain, when people try to pick my brain, they realize that they’ve tried in vain, for even I can’t hold the reign, even I can’t seem to gain an adequate way to paint my pain. But sure, I’ll try facades and feign, acting like I can abstain from all the things on this world’s train, as I launch this sole campaign.

No other sees these sights I see, no other sits so silently, no other has the patience, see, for this old world is just debris. Its fodder for the filth that’s free and feigns the feelings I foresee, so for the faithful  pray and plea, here’s your rusty lock and key.

Your teachings, here, I disagree. I forge this future for those like me.

My Biography

Alone in darkness, thoughts embark, and though this page displays my mark, nameless I shall now remain as embers’ heat begin to wane.

Uncertainty is close behind, forever shrouding this dark mind. I fear I may have intertwined the light that shines so bright behind the madness in this room upstairs with other shapes; those unfit squares. These pieces, see, they don’t belong, yet when I try to right the wrong I’m greeted by the same old song who’s tune just drags me right along, its lyrics say to “just stay strong”.

This is my life, these things you read, I’ve told the world that I concede. I give my every waking breath to live without the fear of death and make each day the best I can, to help and heal my fellow man, to be the one who gives their life to try and pull the piercing knife that penetrates hearts of men, that dagger of our constant sin.

The judgement that so rules this land, I cast away, its purpose banned. All it serves, its only stand, is harm or hurt, please understand.

Every second, every day I chase a dream that’s far away but every single moment spent I’ve sacrificed for my ascent. Its all been planned, accounted for, and let me guess; by thirty-four I’ll look back as those toasts are poured for changing locks to open doors. These poems I write, they aren’t for me, they aren’t to show the world I’m free; they’re nothing more than thoughts and things I’d write in my own diary. There is one thing that’s different, see, between the world and folks like me; that every single thing we think is shared for all the world for free. Our thoughts and all our passions flow, just like the light through this window, and when the doubt begins to grow we cut them down, like throwing salt on frosted snow.

So many say they write in vain, but please allow me to explain that none who know the strife and strain will know until they feel grit or grain. I’m cheating on my healing; I want to stop the hurt that’s seeps through every vein and yet I can’t stop sleeping with my pain. Pain of memories lost, that now I know I’ll never gain, acts that now I must abstain, and things from which I force refrain.

Now’s the time to stock the ship as unknown warriors crack their whip. The time is now for fellowship, so load the gun and soothe the grip, and forge unlikely partnerships for once its out you can’t acquit. This room has now grown pale, moonlit, and all the thoughts that I transmit are meant to peel the fake from real, to call out what is counterfeit.

And as I end this plead and plea, I’ll pilfer from philosophy the bits and pieces I agree and cast away the false debris. The lesson that we all should see is that we’re of the same old tree whose branches bare uniqueness, yes, but become the same as we undress. While we’re different, nonetheless, there are qualities we all possess: the need to love, the need to feel, the need to shape our own ideal, these are things that we all need, a hunger which we need to feed. We’re all connected, its true you see, regardless of geography, no mind for color, biology, we all are here and share this tree. If one thing I can leave for me, the purpose for my reality, it’s to show the world community.

This, nothing more, is what I want in my biography.

My Diary

My Diary

I lay in this bed with these thoughts in my head, looking at the blood that I bled when these pieces of my heart were all shred. These nights tear me apart, make me wish I could go back and restart the life that I’ve led so I can sew together the dangling thread hanging over me. It taunts me, like that bold message you dread that you want to ignore but know eventually has to get read. And I try so hard to think of the good things instead but this pain is so widespread and it’s grip on my head is so tight that I can’t even slip the slightest semblance of solace into this locked shed that’s trapped my mind inside.

I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve cried and I’ve cried and all the pride that’s implied on the outside can’t seem to hide the truth I’m forced to confide; that I’ve died on the inside. Each time I try to divide the sad thoughts that reside together in my head they just get amplified; magnified in frustration that I dared try to hide them. They collide like atoms in my mind and become multiplied until the whole space becomes occupied by nothing but unidentified questions and desires that I know won’t ever get satisfied.

My mind longs for either peaceful rest, or cyanide.

I can’t help that I view life through such a jaded, clouded lens. A timeline of careers and diverse group of friends, asking myself the whole time when will it end? When will I feel it and at last comprehend my purpose? When will I transcend this pretend realm and extend my everything to the place I so long to attend? These thoughts course through me as I desperately grasp for a Godsend to befriend and depend on to help me ascend to the realm where I know I belong.

Because that day isn’t far. Its not far from tonight, it’s not far from tomorrow, and I know this. I know this because there’s so much fuel in this car, each shelf stocked in this bar, so much pure light in this star that’s waiting to supernova.

But I guess right now I’m supposed to act like I’m nothing and won’t ever be something, because that’s what people want to see. They don’t want to think that the people they feed are destined to overcome and succeed, growing bigger than them because it causes a stampede of lost causes while it impedes on their dreams – but hey.

It really isn’t fair to hate on someone just because they have bigger dreams than you.

But that won’t stop them, will it? No, they’ll still hate the success and your name in the press as they cuss and confess that they knew you’d progress into whatever it is you’ve become. And while they look in the mirror and hate that you’ve made it, they’ll try to bring you back down to their playing ground to make themselves feel like they’ve crowned a win while instead they just drown in their toxic waste that surrounds.

People confound me.

But this last verse, no more ire as I light a bright fire and tell all of you reading that I never will tire from doing what’s right as I fight and aspire to always reach higher on this quest to acquire through blood or gunfire the just world we deserve.

That’s the long answer to the frequent inquiry.

These are just thoughts…that I write in my diary.

Writing, as it Relates to Me

I want to share something with you.

I want to share my perception of the thing that saved me from the dark halls through which, until recently, I was being forced to traverse. See, for the longest time I felt as if I’d been carrying a curse, as I walked through things as mundane as the local mall I’d occasionally pass a mother and child and, with something as simple as a short glance at a purse, I’d need a moment to sit down and stare at the ground  and just get lost in thought as my eyes locked in on my shoes seeing the eight little letters that make up the word “converse”. And as in thought, I was immersed, I’d notice the Mom and child fade away from my peripheral vision as the scene in my head was dispersed as instead I looked up and recognized how diverse this whole room was. Something which made me wonder why, despite my attempts to be rid of my curse, was my focus still so combative and stubbornly perverse? Why had my eyes, as if by some magnetism, drifted toward this mother and child, as images of the nurse from the fourth floor of the ICU and of the hearse I never wanted to follow behind began darting through my brain as if I’m now being coerced into this seat where I could at last allow my burdening thoughts to intersperse?

Yes, I would like to share my perception of this most wonderful of creations.

I wish there was a more intimate way to share these times where I just, simply, sit down. Times, whether it’s on the ground at the dog park, or in a seat on a patio bar downtown, or a high table at Jonathan’s, where I can usually be found after a long day of work as I diligently add to my writing background. I wish there was a way for more people to be around when these beautiful moments, which are so rarely found, sweep over us as the most profound thoughts come at us; endlessly inbound as we take the simple and start to expound. It is these moments that instill awe and confound, metaphorically providing the sensation of living a whole life afflicted by deafness as we now, at last, hear our very first sound.

Its something that I wish we all would do more often.

And by that, I mean share. Because the life that I lived before words were my ware was one for which, now, I just really don’t care. I was shallow, I was selfish, I was fake and unfair, and I now, here in hindsight, even hate my old hair. See, there’s one thing I promise; I emphatically swear. So much weight can be lifted, when you open and share. And while yes, the things I write are written with intentional flair, this sentiment I’m typing is as real as a prayer. Get the weight off of your shoulders, and you no longer care for stares, as everyone around you knows precisely the wonderfully flawed thing that so courageously stands there. There are no more secrets, no more lies, no more burdens that you bare, and the only thing you’re donned with is that gown of truth that you wear.

Its like that feeling you get when you’ve been walking through a scorching hot zoo all day long and everyone’s been like “let’s look at this, and this, and that, and this,” when all you really want is a freaking sip of water as you finally finish walking through the African safari exhibit and at last arrive at the centrally located walkway of mist, which leads into the food court and you now can finally order the largest water of your life.

In other words, you feel refreshed.

And that’s the feeling I want to share, which I mentioned before. I don’t think its necessary to explain what I was like before I began to write because not only was I a bore, but I’ve actually already covered it so instead let’s look forward and consider the things that the future has in store. Because the one thing I want to make abundantly clear, as my depressingly sad thoughts turn to into long awaited cheer, is that the very thing I’m doing has quite literally saved my life from what would have undoubtedly veered in the worst direction I could steer had I not, through my tears, come to the realization that I feared which I had been so afraid was awaiting, unavoidably near. So yes, I should pay homage to that which put my life back in gear and that is this: writing.

Words. Words have saved me.

Words have saved me, you see, because despite all the pain and the malice which have coursed through me for so long, a certain sense of liberty has manifested recently that, honestly, I can’t explain as I sit here with her picture, with my dog, and with my thoughts; which, inexplicably, seem to finally be set free. And while I don’t fully understand why my brain has allowed me to take this unfamiliar, seemingly carefree approach as of late, I don’t want to do anything that might cause it to flee, because it’s a sensation for which I’ve been waiting every hour, every week; a feeling that could be described as the long-awaited blossoming of green leaves which at last expose themselves after patiently waiting through a brutal winter that for so long tormented their sad, barren tree.

I want this feeling to last forever.

Yet I know that this, sadly, is an impossibility. But that won’t keep me from constantly, aggressively grasping my life as I force it forward; as I refuse to let anything slow my pace. There is not a thing in this world that will keep me from storming the castle that I see before me. No, I will recruit each and every fiber within me, arming with fire whatever soldiers I need to ascertain that I have an adequately sized force and undefeatable army through which I can destroy with impunity anything that dares stand in defiance of me and the alliance that I have created which now stands beside me.

Arm me with words, and I will destroy anything that gets in my way.

Because words, you see, are the infinite expanse on which we can set sail; for they make up this deep, endless sea of possibility that, in all actuality, contains the only vessel that boasts the capability and the necessary degree of sheer diversity upon which I can pen things such as Continuity, or my poetry, or anything else that I might hear or see that I think needs to be recorded, holding full culpability for the thoughts that I think, the sounds that I hear, or the sights that I see. It is only through words that I can fully express myself.

And that, my friends, is writing; as it relates to me.