Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Droppin the Pen

This was written on July 28 2010

I was having a conversation with my friend the other day.
On the importance of words.
Have you heard the discord in our mouths?
Where our thoughts reach our fingertips,
Breaking on this page from our pens and keystrokes.
The letters falling apart, scattering on the wind.
You my friend don't know the importance of what you forget.
What generations you are forsaking just by droppin that g.
It makes the words feel off key.
Mispronunciation is a problem in this country.
Not just in our words but also in our demeanor.
When all you have to do is complete the word and let it soar.
Leaving your mouth with the emphasis necessary.
The lyricists of this world from Eminem to Taylor Mali.
Would be ashamed of your slanderous ways.
Were they still able to stand before you today.
We are all lost in this world of slang.
So lost that most of us know not the words we speak.
English was once so beautiful.
Our growth and evolution through this language.
I must admit it's quite spectacular.
But you lot have broken me.
So without further ado I leave you all behind.
Until you can come back to my arms.
Stopping this language from coming to harm.
Bringing with you the respect for our roots.
I will drop my pen on this stage.

Monday, July 26, 2010

The words that touch these lips

This was written on July 27 2010

I struggle to find a way
To find the words to say
They sit upon my lips
Touching my fingertips
Playing my every verb
Girl you so superb
There ain't no rhyme or reason
For me to be out of season
So far past my due date
But girl it's just too late
To turn back from this now
There ain't no way or how
From dirt roads in a little town
To these acorns popping crowns
Everything seems to be blooming
Life just keeps on zooming
So I just sit and watch
Just trying not to botch
Whatever comes my way
So tell me what to say
How do I start this discussion
Without the help of percussion
Cause music is my blood
It pulls me from the mud
Picks me up and carries me
Takes me from that prairie
Where I don't want to return
Not until I'm far past burned
So my ashes can be spread
And all my words be read
By kids who sit and think
About how I spread this ink
Cause this is what goes on
Before the memories are gone
I have this chance to say
There just is no other way
Without you by my side
Cause life is one crazy ass ride

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Jesse Johnson

This was written on July 26 2010

There's somethin in that smile of yours
It hits me in my heart
Takes me down to both knees
I know I'm fallin apart
Whenever I see your eyes
I lose my great disguise
There's no way for me to hide
Not that there's a reason
You break in two this shell I have
And take me for a ride
From Karaoke to conversation
You make me feel something down
Deep inside my soul
As if I'm almost whole again

You remind me of my mother
Or at least all that I know
From Church beliefs
And spiritual healings
To intellectual,
The way you teach
Everything I've ever known
Seems to find a place in you
Some part of me is terrified
The other is thrilled too

I want to get to know you better
Of this I am so sure
For you remind me of what I know
And what I've always missed
So be my friend if nothing else
Of this I ask of you
In return I'll promise my
Friendship unto you

Saturday, July 24, 2010

My Newest Cousin

This was written on July 24 2010

It's funny how you make me feel
It's so surreal
The fact that right before my eyes
Another will see these skies
Never thought I'd see the day
When true love came his way
The best thing to ever happen to him
Your mother

You will come into this world
As everything unfurls
Your whole life filled with change
Others have to rearrange
Cause we want to love you
You will be the glue
At least for a couple years
That keeps all of us here

Thursday, July 22, 2010


This was written on July 23 2010

Carving into flesh with heat
Leaving scars impossible to heal
Standing underneath you
Waiting for some salvation
No safety even in darkness
Glorious light surrounds the world
Encompassing every bump
All craters filled with your love
So intense to make a wish of relief
Too hot to handle

Leave for now
Let your sister rise tonight
Her soft glow caressing my skin
Illuminating the waters before me
To remind us all of your glory
So when you rise again
We will not take for granted
The warmth you provide
Even if overwhelming
Charring the skin you touch
Defeated by your love
Surrendering to the pain
Drained by the heat of passion
You leave me breathless

Concave Chest

This was written on July 22, 2010

Muscle ends here
Only bone remains covered lightly
Pale white skin layered sweetly
Barely hiding the weakness
A crater rests within my chest
There isn't much to be done
I must live with these breasts
Muscle made condensed
Spread like cold peanut butter
Spread by dip in my bones
Nothing will change this
Surgery is too risky
Breaking to force growth
Far too risky to try
Live with the crater

Will You Smoke with Me?

This was written on July 22, 2010

The smoke moves
Between us
Through us
All around me
Leaving my lips slowly
The caress between our lips
A thousand souls pass
In those moments
"Share the smoke baby"
Your words are soft
Smooth as the water
Firm enough to support
Your words are perfect
Floating into my ears
Filling me with joy
I smile
Smoke pushing between us
Flowing from my mouth
Fog over the water
Our lips meet
Briefly, but it lasts an eternity
I can feel your tongue
Your smile meets mine
Playfully and peacefully
This kiss is never long enough
My back arches
It takes all my will
Pulling away from you
Smiling forever
With you in my arms
Even when you're not here
I love you my dear

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Excerpt from a Piece I'm Beginning

This was written on July 18, 2010

The moisture left Ethan's mouth to be collected by the fabric naught but an inch from his face. It hadn't been long since they'd thrown the bag over his head, maybe a night and half of a day. To Ethan it didn't feel like more than a couple hours, not that it mattered. He was doing his best to concentrate on every sound and smell that he had sensed as they drug him away from the alley they captured him in. He didn't resist, he knew better than to resist when dealing with terrorists. He would sit and wait, using what information he had to his advantage, occasionally he shifted his hands so the sweat rolling down his arms slid into the joints of the cuffs holding him together.

Ethan was a trained man, he'd been through a lot in what little time he'd been serving the United States military. Every experience more rich and fulfilling than the last, he seemed to grow spiritually from the struggles that his job put him through. His training meant nothing before his utter calm nature, his willingness to concentrate on the moment. The moment is all that mattered, nothing else. Survival was pointless as death comes to all who live and worrying about whether or not he would die was then a waste of time.

Ethan began breathing slowly and deeply, feeling through his body for all injuries. His heart beat slowing and strengthening with his deep breathing. Every pulse sent blood coursing to the areas that needed it the most, revealing his injuries within moments. His left forearm had a small fracture from when he'd blocked a kick in the alley. His right leg had a large bruise from being thrown into the van and taken to wherever he was now.

The door swinging open broke his concentration, the metal screeched against the stone floor. The loose brackets holding the door in place allowed it to swing at just the right angle to scrape the floor. Heavy footsteps could be heard resounding throughout the room, bouncing off of the single chair that Ethan sat upon, the room wasn't large, probably an old prison cell. Ethan smiled from behind his bag, he had no reason to smile. He heard a gun cock and felt the cold metal pressed against his temple even through the bag. He never had the chance to hear the gun fire, before he had a chance even the little bits of light that were left to be seen through the bag disappeared. The world swirled around him as he hit the floor, the back of the chair breaking off, releasing him. As he hit the floor the large man who had just been holding a gun to his temple hit the floor beside him. Ethan smiled, now he had reason, life for him would continue, even if only for a little longer.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

On the Subject of Addiction

This was written on July 15th 2010

First I find it necessary to define what "addiction" is. defines Addiction as;
  1. A physical or psychological need for a habit-forming substance, such as a drug or alcohol. In physical addiction, the body adapts to the substance being used and gradually requires increased amounts to reproduce the effects originally produced by smaller doses. See more at withdrawal.

  2. A habitual or compulsive involvement in an activity, such as gambling.

webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary defines "addiction" as;
  1. The quality or state of being addicted <~to reading>

  2. Compulsive physiological need for a habit-forming drug (as heroin) - compare HABITUATION

Now the reason that I have decided to write on the subject of addiction is my own personal observations on the matter and this conversation that I've been having with my family members. It is my personal belief, and I do not mean to change anyone's mind by presenting my thought processes nor is it my intent to bring this subject forward to discussion, that addiction does not exist outside of the mind. I find that in saying that I must explain that the mind is not the brain, not the chemistry that makes the brain function. So to be clear I am not speaking of chemistry or body needs, I am speaking of the "mind" that can only be seen or spoken of as being metaphysical.

Once again, to be clear this is not being written to change anyone's mind, but mainly to further my own understanding of my thought processes and possibly enlighten some of those around me as to how it is that I think of things.

Now that is out of the way I must once again say that addiction, in my mind, is a false diagnosis. Not to say that the studies out there on addiction are a wasted effort or that people don't get "addicted" to substances or other habitual activities. Instead what I am trying to say is that everything in life is a choice, and it is my belief then that if addiction is to be describes as a physiological plague. Something that sucks you under and leaves you with little to no control I cannot find myself believing in the addiction. To me everyone has a series of choices from the moment they wake up to the moment they go to sleep. You can choose if you wish to smoke cigarettes or if you think that because it's bad for you then you don't need to smoke them and don't want to.

There is no, "I'm addicted so I can't stop." You're using something that somebody else has defined to you to persuade your mind to work in a way that you believe it should. Or rather, as you have been told that your physiological needs should function. People all of our growing life tell us things about substance abuse and urban myths exist around every corner. It is your job as a human being to decipher these myths and find what is true for yourselves. There is something within your body, call it gut instinct if you will, that tells you when you should be trusting another person's "truth." For some people this feeling is stronger than for others I'm sure and I'm certain that for everyone you have to open your mind to this feeling rather than dismissing it regardless of how strong the feeling is.

Blaming your unwillingness to give up a substance or a course of action on "addiction" is hiding from yourself and your own truth. If you wish to believe in addiction that is your choice, but when you come to me and tell me that you're addicted to something, don't expect me to feel sorry for you at all. "You made your bed and you've got to sleep in it too." This is something my Uncle Chris said to me when I was six or seven years old and I'd been badly sunburned while at the waterpark and so I was to sit under the parasol and stay out of the sun for the rest of the day while everyone else had fun. I made the decision, consciously or subconsciously, to not put on sunscreen. Because of that decision I was unable to continue and enjoy the waterpark. This may seem unrelated at first but it is one of the things that I use for the basis of explaining decision making. It is my belief that nobody can reasonably argue with the idea that my decision to not put on sunscreen was my own decision and that that decision had consequences.

Now to things that are directly related to addiction; smoking and drinking. My first experience with alcohol was when I was rather young and my Uncle Chris allowed me to taste wine for the first time. I can still remember the taste burning my nose, the sip brought the bitter liquid into my mouth and for a moment it felt as if I'd inhaled water as the bitterness seeped into my nostrils as a burning sensation and burned slightly down the back of my throat. I didn't particularly enjoy the first sip but after a moment or two I could feel the pleasant tingling of the alcohol reaching my system. My next experience with alcohol was not nearly so intense, at least not in the vivid memory that I have of it.

At one of my best friend's birthday parties we had two kegs and a couple 5ths of alcohol. There was Jagermeister, Hennesy, Captain Morgan and a few others I don't remember. I drank enough that night that I was buzzed for the remainder of the night and all the way into the morning. I don't remember much of the burning sensation as the drinks slid down my throat, nor do I remember ever throwing up. I remember sitting on the couch that was supposed to be where I slept and all I could think about was how beautiful the stars above me were. Since that occasion I have drank, though never quite as much as that night, and I have never myself had a problem with alcohol being addictive. It is my personal experience that I was in control of whether or not I drank more, nobody could force me to drink more and I wasn't drinking more because I couldn't stop myself. Now certainly I haven't ever drank every day all day for a week nor do I party often enough that I've drank nearly as much as most of my peers, but still have yet to have any occasion where I couldn't say no to more alcohol. In fact, every time, other than the second time, I've ever drank I made the conscious decision to stop once I was buzzed and only on two occasions did I extend the length of my buzz by balancing my alcohol intake.

I'm not some miracle that can't get addicted to alcohol or has the willpower to refuse everything because I know that it's wrong. I've made my fair share of mistakes and I've dabbled in things I probably shouldn't have. But the fact of the matter is that I have made my decisions. Including my decision that when I turned eighteen I wanted to pick up smoking tobacco out of a pipe.

Now certainly how I'm going to explain this needs to be clear as two of the main reasons I decided I wanted to pick it up may be suspect. The first being that I enjoy the smell of pipe tobacco, it brings about a positive nostalgia for me which reminds me of the days when I was a child playing with Legos and nearby either my father or my grandfather was smoking their pipe. Of course they weren't always smoking when I was playing with Legos and I wasn't always playing with Legos when they were smoking, but the two together is what comes to mind when I smell the sweet burning of pipe tobacco. Now the second was the appearance of smoke itself, the thicker the smoke the thicker the curls. Smoke has always been aesthetically appealing to me, the way it softly floats, carried by the breeze slowly diluting and becoming wispier as it disappears.

So I picked up smoking my pipe when I turned eighteen, legally able to buy tobacco and I set out with the idea that even knowing smoking was bad for me, I wanted to do it. I know that cigarettes are more addictive as well as being worse for you according to many studies. The reason behind which is the high you receive, or rather the nerve stimulation and the amount of additives in the cigarettes in comparison to pipe tobacco.

Now, after having been smoking for one year two months and ten days, I have to once again say that I see no addiction appearing in front of me. I have gone many weeks at a time between smoking my pipe and on occasions I've also smoke my pipe for two weeks straight one or more times a day. Not once have I had the experience of inability to stop smoking or even have I had the experience of craving the nicotine. It has always been a conscious decision to pack my pipe and smoke the tobacco. I didn't start packing my pipe and then realize what I was doing, every time there was a "Do I want to smoke right now?" Then I would battle with myself for several minutes deciding if me wanting to smoke was because I was addicted or just because I wanted to smoke. Now pipe tobacco is not the only thing I've smoked. On occasion when I didn't want to make the trek all the way to the store where I buy my pipe tobacco from but had the want to smoke I would pick up a pack of cigarettes. I would smoke a cigarette, enjoy the aesthetic appearance of the smoke floating in the breeze and then toss the rest of the pack without a second thought.

Now maybe I am addicted and maybe my assumption about addictions are all wrong and I'm willing to listen if anyone wishes to persuade me on this matter. To be clear however, it is still my belief that addiction is a choice and that every time you pick up some substance that may overwhelm your nerves and create some sort of vortex that makes you always crave that experience again, you are making a choice.

Monday, July 12, 2010


This was written on July 12th 2010

To know what you see
And get what you see
No deeper meaning here
Trailing clues are nonexistent
What stands before is truth
Only truth will set you free
In this moment nothing more
For right now a flood released
So do not try your lies
Or fake in front of us
Because we know you better
Because you opened up
You are vulnerable to us
But that is not a bad thing
Now you have someone to trust
So keep us in your mind
Do not let a fissure form
For we are best of friends
Through sunny day or storm

Saturday, July 3, 2010

The Last Time

This was written on July 3rd 2010

Blood pulses in my fingertips as they caress your sweet face. I can feel the pulsing stronger than anything I've ever felt before in my life. Stronger even than the beating of my heart as your tongue meets mine in a tango of passion. Waltzing with each other and lost in the sensation of being held as I'm holding you. We dip and dive together, swimming in the eyes of a thousand lies. I know this won't last even through the night. I know it will end, but I wish to be wrong, I wish that I could fool myself. You sit here with me, asking what it is that I am thinking about but the words will never reach my tongue. I refuse to let them touch my fingertips. You will never know what it is that I feel because this has to end.

You knew it as well as I did, that nothing would come of this passion but pain. It's nothing that we haven't danced through a thousand times before. Lying to ourselves, trying to fool the fates and the fated. You and I are alike on more levels than one and every breath of yours I feel makes me fall harder. Only the concrete can break my fall now, the buildings shattering beneath my feet. I am without a parachute when I'm with you, all memories and emotions as crisp as the night air. Nothing is foggy here and I have nowhere to hide from the truth. Still I try, pivoting my body, allowing her no glimpse at my pain stricken face. Truth already knows, but I refuse to admit my own shortcomings. I do not wish for this moment to end, but it's already gone. I will look back through all of my experiences and this will be one of the strongest.

That night in the park with you will never be forgotten. Surrounded by the crisp air even as we added our own fog. The steam leaving our mouths as we whispered our lies between every truth. I tried to hide from you but passion brought forth my pain and truth of just how broken I am. The speed and rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins. Every drop of blood coursing without any reason or remorse. It overflowed with the one thing I refuse to admit. Even now after having told you what you mean to me. Nothing will ever stop this bleed, not a million doctors or a million scars will bring me closer to my salvation. Never will I escape what has brought me to my knees a thousand times. Never will I forget you, but never will anything replace the love I have for my mother. It was never meant to be and you were never meant to see.

Goodbye my love. Tomorrow is another day and I will meet more who should never see. Those who are still blind are better to be surrounded by. You have no place in my life.

My Heart

This was written on July 3rd 2010

Grab it tight and hold on
It pulses as you squeeze
Baby pull it please
Just rip it from its resting place
If you don't it'll go to waste
It doesn't sit right
It wants your grasp
If you don't your ass is grass

You don't have to touch so lightly
Don't be afraid of my pain
Just show it you are mighty
Pull and tear, bite and squeeze
I'm sure it'll only make me sneeze
The harder you grab the less I breathe
Do not worry for my self esteem
It'll break in your hands
Regardless of grip
Just don't let all the pieces slip
Keep one for yourself as a reminder
Of all the ones you've left behind