From The Past

I wrote this some several years ago, and it wandered right back to me.

Of Velvet Tears

He lies alone
As he will as long alive
But nothing stops the pain
And nothing stops the rain
One thing can keep his heart from aching
A heart stopped beating
Is a heart stopped breaking
How he dreams of going cold
Now he lies in the bed where they once slept
In the shell of the place where they once dreamt
He can hear the voice of his love
Like the fluttering wings of a dove
The red line cut into his wrist
And the warmth of the blood spilling onto his fist
Is the love in the warmth of her kiss?
A kiss he has never felt since
The knife in one hand seems bigger
Then the other hand caressing the trigger
The blade will only stop the pain
The bullet will fully start the rain
Of velvet tears
He cries
Of velvet tears
He dies
Beside his love he is free
In a tomb by the rolling see.

Life's Rorschach

An ink blot is life
It is black and empty,
Meaningless, but yet
So full of Blake’s Fearful Symmetry.

In the forest of the night
We long to feel a loving light
But in the desert of the day
For solidarities shade we pray

An ink blot is life
Because nothing is so simple
We live to draw our own concepts
On a profoundly blank existence.

The Darkness of Mere Being

Carl Jung once said "As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a spark of meaning in the darkness of mere being." This hit me hard, and I explained my take on it to a friend, who told me to post it here.

Being alive is too vague a term. Having a pulse is being alive, but its not life. A cold hearted individual is alive, but has no humanity. Humanity is the heartbeat of the soul. Humanity is the capacity for feeling, the dispensation of love and all consequent emotions. This is ironic, because so few humans ever acheive true humanity. We're so numb, so dark. Mere Beings. The purpose of human existence is to give that existence meaning. We do that exact thing by making humanity truly human.

Acoustic Guitar

There's something about playing an acoustic guitar that really makes me feel alive. Its a simple equation, a nice guitar, tuned and ready, equals a sound akin to a beautiful woman whispering in your ear.

I find that when I pick up a guitar, and start playing, i expose myself in ways that are submersive and yet obvious. My thoughts and feelings fall from the strings are sure as those vibrations. Sometimes it will be a slow, sad strum, full of low end harmonics and as dark as my coffee. Other times I'll pick away higher on the neck, releasing those bright, lighter tones.

If you let it, the guitar will play you, rather than you playing the guitar. Music moves, breathes, pulsates, climaxes, and recedes. Honestly, music is more alive than most people I know.

This has been sitting around...

This is a piece I wrote some several months ago, and its been catching my eye a lot lately, so I decided to post it here.

Taking sharp the western wind,
A sky bleeds red at summer's end.
Moon lowers day into a grave,
Leaving only her dying rays.
Oh soft, silent, dreadful moon.
The light you stole from me too soon
Leaves me cold, oh it leaves me dark.
As I reach for that forgotten spark.

As anything that I will write here, it is what it is. Take from it what you will.

Another Beginning

The events of our lives are dictated by beginnings and endings. Today, as the worlds embarks on the beginning of a new year, I embark on the beginning of this blog. It's isn't something I planned on before this moment, but instead an oppurtunity and a possibility that I felt the need to grasp. It seems that these random moments when things happen all at once, these seemingly coincidental events that sprout up in our lives like a sidewalk flower, are the times in which we make decisions that impact our lives for ages and ages hence.

We've established the what, now for a loose explanation of the why. Today I saw a movie entitled The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I have seen many movies in my life, far too many to mention, but I can safely say that none of them have affected me more profoundly than this film. The plot is adapted from an F. Scott Fitzgerald short story about a man who was born old and aged backwards, although the two stories are vastly different. The short story is mostly satirical in nature while the film is extremely profound. To put it simply, this film is a depiction of life, death, love, the things we gain, and the things we lose. Now you're asking yourself, how does any of this explain why he's writing this blog? The answer is, I'm not sure. I can only tell you that this movie left me in a very reflective state, which, not being uncommon for me, seemed to inspire the need for action.

For some reason, in the middle of my reverie, I began thinking of an ex-girlfriend and her passion for blogging. Many times she attempted to persuade me into making a blog of my own, and obviously, nothing came of it. I don't know how to connect that influence with my current situation, but I'm in this situation nonetheless.

So, now I'm blogging. I'm thinking in print to the entire world, although I'm sure very little to no one will ever read these words. I've learned, in life thus far, that there is great importance in putting yourself out there. I'm out there. Are you?