The tension exceeds me as nothing can please me
My value on life degrades
A life on my own's not a life all alone
But boring as fuck I say
As thoughts outrun bullets my outlook gets duller
The holes in my head disappear
But the mind on it's own can be very prone
To make some new holes appear
Out of these holes pour juices of ages
The wine that the gods sip upon
But this wine has gone sour
As has my mood
As I look at all I've done wrong
I'm conscious of conscience
But not willing to listen
Why would I for it is a joke
My conscience isn't conscious
Of the burden I bear
A burden I bear all alone
A right for the wrong but no wrong is undone
Nor neither the rights will be judged
For rewards are spare as are my fucks
The time for those thoughts is long gone
Now listen young guppy
Don't listen to me
For I shout the thoughts of the mad
Just watch my mistakes
And learn and take
Because I've been a boy very bad
I feel proud of this lyric. Yes I properly used the term lyric to not refer to words intended for a song. Of course when I was walking in school and thought the first line I did intend to write something a lot more different from it. But back to my mad rant. And um, despite my positive tone in this piece of writing I have been in a shitty mood lately so don't mistake me to be positive. My favorite unit every year in English class is Poetry. Not because I can show off the depth of my being, something I prefer to keep private to myself, I only at least try to display it here because anyone that I know that I know reads this already has that type of understanding of me in that way, I think. I don't think any of my peeps actually still read it because it's been a shitstain scrap for so long. Anyways, I can share it with you guys cause you don't know me, if I even still have readers, which allows me to reveal my inner and deeper thoughts. Back to poetry though. I enjoy it because surprisingly I don't enjoy that level of deep thought when it's associated with me. I'm normally lost in it which irks me uncontrollably. But when I think and interpret other people's work I can't help but enjoy it. It gives me insight into my own problems that helps me sort them out, as well as provides me with something to think about that won't negatively affect me, most of the time. A lot of the music I listen to, which I see as poetry with music which allows you to add more emotion and effect to it, tends to be more centered around my moods and unconsciously dictated by more inner thoughts. But poetry class allows me simple expression as well. It focuses my word vomit which I find interesting. In an assignment I write what I think and it naturally has a rhythm and flow to it that I don't really pick out. Shit like typing it up is different where I spend time thinking on it. Well even when I think on it the word choice I normally use it just bizzare. The biggest problem is that I don't really know what I'm writing and I look back at it and explain it to myself. I find it's my way of talking to myself the only true way I know how. The lyric above me though? I truly love it just because of the riddlistic flow that I used where it makes me feel like there's some old man, yoda like person talking to me rather than, well, me. And as I said, my writing is normally word vomit, which surprises me because of it being put together as it is. And what I am happy about a lot is what I used in the third stanza, an epanodo. That's where you take a phrase, "I'm conscious of my conscience" and repeat it back but reversed, "My conscience isn't conscious". It's used in raps occasionally and another example is in "Smells Like Teen Spirit" where Kurt Cobain says "I found it hard, it was hard to find". I even added in a yoda line, the last line.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Diluded Delusions
So I've started to think back on my past self a lot lately. Especially with the gossip that I tend to hear every now and then it tends to make me think back on the past in general. Being the crazy storyteller I am, I do often look back to the retarded mishaps I've allowed myself to get into. Not to sound egotistical but I've always been a being of high intelligence, but I found I was a lot more deluded then which is why whenever I think back on myself I find myself stupider and stupider. Not to say I'm not deluded now, I'm quite sure I'm really deluded now and just know it because delusions are natural mental creations that your mind will strive to maintain. But to go with the concept of ignorance bringing bliss, I was happier then. If I'm not as deluded as I was then, I really wish I was. At least I was happy then, now most things are kind of a daze to me, even memories of the past year are fleeting. I enjoyed the delirium that I had, that should label me as insane but kept me sane. But maybe it's good that I can see a little better through the haze, maybe it won't benefit me knowingly because right now I feel miserable. And no, this isn't related to my dad's death. To be honest, despite it being bad to speak ill of the dead, my dad was a piece of shit who treated me like shit. Even though he strived for my attention and affection, obvious from some of the ways he acted, the person I came to know was a douchebag. There's not better way to say it, but after his death I thought back on things more to realize he did care for me, he just didn't know how to show it sometimes.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Just Wave Goodbye
So...last night my dad passed. I can't say he was a great father to me, but he wasn't a shitty one either. He tended to treat me like crap but I learned that he just as much yearned for my attention. I feel bad about how I'd look towards him a lot and that our last few encounters were more negative than positive. But last night was horrible in the sense that it took him awhile to die. I couldn't even stand staying there to see it out. I left after he slid into a coma that wouldn't last long. Just all the fuckin machines and watching them pump into and out of him, but not doing anything but just making it easier on him. It was tragic. They took out his breathing tube so he could say his own farewell and he could only gurgle. He'd just gurgle with his eyes bugged out and where I couldn't tell if he knew he was trying to say something or it was just his body seizing up. When I left I could barely say anything. I just didn't want to be awake. I wanted to be out there in a reality where things didn't always end fucky. But, he's fought for the time he had and he suffered long enough. I feel glad that he's dead, because now he's at peace. No more pain and agony for him. No more troubles of the material plain.
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