October: Black Coffee & Jazz

Chill October, the delight of my year.

Black coffee and jazz in the bitter autumn breeze.

The quietness and stillness of the dying season.

The rush of freezing winds and coldest rain.

The scent of spice, hazelnut, and cider.

The newest bad scary movies and costumes.

The mega-packs of sweet processed sugar.

The haunted houses and classic horror films.

A cup of coffee, a blanket, and Mary Shelley’s novel,

Curled up listening to melancholy jazz.

My favorite month, my favorite season.

Delight of my year, for all the little things.

Children Of Pain

Never forget a childhood spent in pain

Or the sufferings that are unique in youth.

As a living being dependent on protection,

Conditioned to accept and embrace their misuse.

From seething traumas to reinforced behaviors

We’re shuttled from shelter by society’s whims.

Pre-designed systems of disciplinary education,

Traditions of conduct to make us like them.

Emotions you’d feel but maybe couldn’t explain,

Ideas dismissed as mere innocent mistakes.

Assumptions that you couldn’t know better

From adults who didn’t understand how you think.

Petty injustices seemed relatively large

When individual happiness meant the whole world.

The first steps towards tasting the bitterness of life,

To the first sight of cruelty’s colors unveiled.

Remember your rights and remember your wrongs,

Remember the choices left for others to decide,

Remember what you were and how you’ve been changed,

And remember the battles you used to fight.

Know children everywhere will face the same pains,

Know they’ll be fighting as we did to survive,

So when you acquire some decisions on fate,

Remember adults are who structure their lives.

 

Living With Hell

Reality was harsh

Recognition was worse

Revelation was unbearable.

 

I could find truth

I could accept myself with it

But I couldn’t relate it to anyone.

 

I could argue

And I could explain

But never enough to satisfy.

 

I could relax

And I could let it go

But it couldn’t ever leave me.

 

I want to be real

To be honest and understood

But I’ve learned not to expect it.

 

I learned to stay quiet

To hide behind an empty face

But I can’t always help it.

 

I need to let it out

But I know there’ll be pain.

So much held back for so long,

And I know it’s gonna be Hell.

 

Worse Then Hate

The extent of Justice

Limited by selfishness or fortune.

As is the extent of Love

limited by hate or the void.

The tyrant, to me more despicable

Than emptiness, the more strong.

Rage breeds destruction

As the quiet breeds death.

Nations, values, and ideals

Live or die by chance.

Time devours all there is

Noble, wicked, or in-between.

Hollow hearts crave sensation

As the sick and dying crave life.

The disimpassioned mistrust love

Misery, ever the more reliable.

Conquest or chaos seem like

Solace to the dispirited.

Surely anything is better

Than dwelling on empty chasms.

If chance dictates love

I can play it win or lose.

If purpose is a pipe-dream

I can revel in fantasy.

If ignorance is bliss

Then sadness is the more profound.

If life is pain

I’ll take it over nothing.

 

 

Persona and Identity

Persona vs Identity

Both more or less complex

Patterns, habits, and daydreams coalesce

Conscious acts and sub-conscious desires

 

Stare into the abyss

Reflections of war-like aggression

Jealous and sick with obsession

A stubborn will and icy heart

 

In paradox afflux

A Soul sensitive to touch

Brittle, and broken too much

Weak and crippled with toxicity

 

Accordingly and as such,

Conflicting passions run amock

Madness in emotions stuck

Paralyzed by determined chance

 

In trance or thought

Passivity mingles with distress

Shameful needs be addressed

Compelling, or just dwelling

 

In purer moments

All complexities relax

Heart and mind re-interact

And passion kindles brightly

 

Failures fall away

Proclaiming my essence

Assured of my vital presence

I’m deliberate, I’m awake

 

Pieces all in place

To know and love what I’ve become

To realize and overcome

Re-associative embrace

 

Accepting my entirety

All my fragments in contradiction

In defiance of definition

Thriving as chaotic force

 

The Whole vs The One

Many millions may there be

Maybe none of them are me

Or maybe it doesn’t matter

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leviathan

Power, punishment, and privilege

Demanded, accepted, or predestined

Damned to be a piece of this puzzle

In assimilation as in rebellion

Welcome to the machine my son

Participate and perish herein

As cells in circuits interlaced

As blood in our Leviathan

Protection, peace, and pleasure

Paid in luxury and exploitation

Survive, thrive, and embrace it

Serve and suffer its expectations

Refuse, resist, and raise a fist

The weary, beaten, and broken-hearted

The cycle of revolution carries on

But a circle only ends where it started.

America becomes Britain, becomes Rome,

Becomes Greece, becomes Persia, becomes stone.

 

 

 

Pride

From a pair of eyes outside myself,

I imagine I’d seem ridiculous.

In poor health ridiculing fate while

I’m too stubborn to take my medicine.

When every battle is both win and lose

Yet somehow I’m still competing.

Broken into submission so often despite

holding onto my dominion.

Conquest without progress

Like rage without any outlets.

Pride without a thing to gain

But I can’t stand to swallow it.

An empire made of nothing

As though anything is worth dying for.

Foolishness, addiction, or fear,

Alive to kill my time some more.