Plans

I don’t like to think about the things they think they know

Cause they won’t ever know about the things I like to think

Perhaps my methods madness, you might be right. So?

Patience is a virtue; can someone hold my drink?

3 years ago I sacrificed my one true life to words

Now as I look back, that time was split into three thirds

Year 1 was only pain

The second turned to hate

3 should have been love, but I fear it came too late

Forward’s where we’re headed

Up is where we go

The auditions almost over

It’s time to start the show

They say a fail to plan is just a way to plan to fail

That’s cool because this plan in mind; it doesn’t fit to scale

This path is not a linear one, this journey is 3D

My WHY is not defined by adding up MX and B

The equation is not simple; its variables, complex

Milestones are many, as are its balances and checks

We’ve only penned the Prologue, now it’s on to Chapter 1

A lifetime lies before us, till the time this tale is done.

My Calling

I look up to the sky and ask “please tell me, where’s my Father at?”

The only thing he gave me was His judgment and a baseball bat

Looking back, it hurts so much that all I do is shake my head

Take a sip to numb the pain and write things in an empty bed

An illusion wrapped in chaos, this life I’ll never understand

In youth my lens was crystal clear, yet nothings gone as I had planned

I cannot help but ask myself, since all He gives are question marks

Why my mind was once so bright, but now has faded into dark

And though inside I’m stricken by confusion, malice, fear and spite

Such burdens sparked the things I love and what I think about at night

Passion, purpose, paths ahead, for so long were a mystery

An emptiness that I’ve since filled, a truth engulfed in irony

That which now I know so well was always there for me to find

This pen and pad have saved my life, opened eyes which once were blind

And now as I return my gaze to He who only ran and hid

I realize writings raised me more than my own absent Father did

I’ve gripped the future, finally; its fate is under my control

I’ve peered so deep into its eyes, I own its very heart and soul

Its twisted, yes, that in the end it’s loss that’s what has given me

The answer that I needed most: My Calling is my destiny

Keep the Prayers

Keep the prayers, I request, to your own faithful self. They’re distant to me, meant for somebody else. I was close to your God, admittedly you see, until he ripped me apart; abandoning me. I’m told “There’s always a reason”. Yeah, well I disagree. No purpose is found in response to my plea. His “love” ripped the life from my family tree and left nothing but branches, bare as can be. Yet I’m expected to thank Him for who he DID leave? The knuckles and thorns that cause nothing but grief? I’m asked to embrace this great Sculptor and Thief, who steals life from creation yet demands its belief? How twisted the logic of Religion must be to pass judgments on those who don’t blindly believe; we who dare question the infallibility of He who locks his own house and gives evil the key, corrupting his own tenants that in one breath could be free, if only the Lord would allow their release?

I don’t care what your pages, prayers, or priests tell you. There is no realm in which the amount of unwarranted death, suffering, and destruction this world is subjected to can be justified. No false eternity, no empty promises, and no alleged punishment of those who oppress, rape, or murder will ever merit the evil allowed in this world. These are nothing more than lies to masquerade the suffering as something worth tolerating. A pathetic grasp for meaning in a meaningless reality.

Breathe.

Listen, I don’t want to offend, just please comprehend that the time that we spend in devotion and admiration of who we thought was our friend is now something that, sadly, I can no longer commend. The magnitude of my mind’s malcontent effects pain impossible to mend, as I see nothing but an empty dead end for which I can no longer expend what little strength I have left to fight or contend. It’s like He created hope just to strip it away, to apprehend our only tool to desperately suspend the realization that for every start, there’s an end; that the shadows and darkness will always descend; demonically disregarding the tales we believe and the life we pretend.

I’m conflicted, consumed and confused by this sense of abandonment I’ve no choice but to feel, ashamed I took the bait; deceived by a false rod and reel. I can no longer find cause to embrace, heed or kneel to He who ignored every cry and appeal, my pathetic attempts to take her pain and conceal all the heartache she suffered and the hurt that he’d deal. And yet, through it all, she still prayed that she’d heal, to one day finally break that constricting tight seal, in hope that the answers she sought would at long last be revealed.

There are no words in existence which can adequately describe the degree of sadness, emptiness, hopelessness and hatred that such hindsight instills.

Once more, I ask that you respectfully forgive what many would label as harsh conjecture. This is not the shallow recant of some closed-off, short-sighted miscreant. These pages contain the unabridged passion which defines me; nothing more.

So I ask that you forgive, as every night I can’t help but relive that month which felt more like a year, when I sat plagued by inexplicable fear that her death was so close; unavoidably near. How vivid is that memory, hauntingly clear; the image of she who I held so close and so dear, lying in tubes on that bed as the shell of the person who used to appear; now drifting away with no life to cohere. And as I sat next to her writing through every cry, sob and tear, I tried my absolute damnedest to be strong, persevere, begging God that He’d save her so for once in her life she could taste happiness; cheer.

I watched the tube being pulled from her. That final, feeble lifeline pathetically attempting to breathe life into her poor lungs. I collapsed, terrified, against the wall. Defeated, completely helpless and puddled in tears as I witnessed her unconscious body desperately gasp for the oxygen that her fragile body’s grip could no longer grasp. It was, without the remotest doubt, the worst sensation I have ever experienced, and one which I would not wish on even the worst transgressors of humanity. Feelings such as those felt that moment would not exist in a world claimed to have been created out of love. This is the harsh, unarguably candid truth.

Regarding my opinions and views of God, I ask not that you agree. I have no request, nor desire, for sadness or sympathy. I merely wish that my words and contempt fall on minds that are free; free of the judgement which has for so long met my plea as I fail to articulate that which I now so passionately see.

For thirty years I have bowed, as my whole life I would vow, yet I stand here no longer acting holier than thou. I can simply not continue to allow my unjust allegiance, as every drop of sweat from my brow is shed for He who destroys, whom I tonight disavow. It’s not born of vanity, and not that I’m proud. I’ve just at last cleared the malicious dark cloud that’s wrapped my plagued mind in the blackest of shrouds. Despite His cold embrace, I’m finally free; and the death of my mother is the answer, to how.

Please, keep the prayers. I just…don’t need them now.

Continuity

I’ve had some people ask me what exactly is my book about

So let me tell you, let me try to summarize, quell the doubt

Its about the things we do and how we treat each other; simple see

I knew when I first started writing my first novel, Continuity

I wanted to portray a story, a motif I tried to create

That illustrated all the petty arguments we see of late

Who cares if he’s in love with his same gender, who are you to pry?

Just make the cake and tell them “hey that’s cool, congrats you guys”

Who cares if that old person disagrees with all the things you say?

Just try to understand that they were raised in a much different way

The world has changed, its time we compromise, adapt

Cause if we don’t we’re stuck here man, we’re idle and our minds are trapped

You know I know you know what I’ve been thinking ‘bout

Cutting loose the chains and handcuffs, no reason to resist or doubt

Free your minds and join me, we’re moving we’re not stationary

I’m telling you that I am here, that I’m a revolutionary

The one who’s got the passion and the drive to make a difference here

I wrote that book to make a point, not for fame and not for cheer

Why do you think I stay distant from the industry?

Its because I know they’ll push an image, one that isn’t even me

And that’s just it, I’m holding all my cards, see

No one else can take them, so many aces up my sleeve

I’ll play them when the time has come, the day I that no longer grieve

Remember this, my fragile friend: it started with Continuity

The Pearl

Some time ago, there came to be, a gorgeous dame, just twenty-three

Beauty she was, in entirety, with eyes so blue, as deepest sea

 

Kind and gentle, she cared for all, the rich, the poor, the short, the tall

A heart of gold, her charm enthralled, she loved the big, adored the small

 

But something was hiding, behind her bright smile, a thing she that she longed for, a love to beguile

She watched all around her, all of the while, dreamed of her own day, to walk down the aisle

 

Despite her perfection, the kindest of soul, her father was evil, forbidding that stroll

His eyes never left her, he took a hard toll, his heart was pure hatred, and blacker than coal

 

He feared all the others, and made the decree, no one shall wed her; she’ll stay here with me

He assumed that all men, they all thought like he; and viewed other women, as their property

 

A day fine’ly came, and much to her joy, a kind man arrived, a respectable boy

But sadly the dad, became quite annoyed, the kind man he shunned, the girl’s dream destroyed

 

Fearing him not, the man formed a plan, to save this fine lady, to win her fine hand,

To free the fair maiden, from father and land, to give her a life, where she’s in command

 

So off the ‘gent went, partook in this quest, to find the solution, he puffed out his chest

He saddled his horse, he put on his vest, in love he believed, in armor he dressed

 

He rode through the night, through thick and through thin, the hot and the cold, still air, and the wind

He fought many battles, when chances were slim, passion would guide him, love always would win

 

At last the day came, to fight for the girl, and meet eye to eye, the father, this Earl

And as their blades clashed, the swish and the swirl, the maiden came out, her hand clasped a pearl

 

She shouted to them, “Please, just get along!”, and “Why”, to the father, “What is so wrong?”

“Why say you hate him, he doesn’t belong? Why can’t you see how our love is so strong?”

 

And as the girl cried, she fell to her knees, she begged for her father, to put doubt at ease

To let his grip go, to fine’ly appease, she begged it be so, with passion, and “please”

 

As the damsel distressed, the dad heard her cry, he turned and he faced her, a tear in his eye

“My dear I’m so sorry, for all of this time, I’ve missed your poor mother, I’ve needed respite”

 

Hearing these words, the kind man dropped his sword, he hugged the poor father, whose words had struck chord

“Forgive me”, Dad said, “I’ve been a bad ward, your life is your own, to live and go ‘ford”

 

And so on that day, the girl fine’ly found, the love that she’d dreamed of, her chains were unbound

All men can change, when truth is abound, remember this story, when tough times come around

Good & Evil: Chapter 24

Oh boy.

Seems like Mikal is getting hotter. Sounds to me like he’s playing the game the right way. Even in the midst of all the labor, the hovels, the dregs of society that he’s forced to associate with…it sounds like our boy is maintaining a pretty convincing image out there. Exactly what he needs to convince the Overseers to give him a second look. 

Does that make him fake? Does that make him a sell out? I would say no. I mean who actually wants to manufacture gadgets and serve salads all day to people who think they’re better than they are? I most definitely don’t blame the guy for scheming his way out. 

And yet, there are those who would say Mikal is a bad person for doing so. That he’s bad for taking advantage of those not willing to modify their image in the aim of bettering his own position. So, my friend (surely I can call you that by now, right?), what do you think? Is it immoral to desire a better position in life, if it’s at the expense of another? If, of course, that person would do the same to you, given they have the capacity. Is it bad to exploit opportunities when others overlook them?

Personally, I believe there is one constant in this torrential equation of morality: that of Estella. She is the only relevant variable amidst all of this, in Mikal’s eyes. Call it Good or call it Evil, but one things for damn sure. 

The kid is passionate.