Posts Tagged ‘feelings’

01/18/2018 – Random Writing at 4 AM – Another Poem?

Inside my mind; I do find myself – not against the rage but not in peace either; the waves do crash upon the shore again; it is peaceful even in that storm, to hear the breaks, the rage.

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Sometimes I wonder though if this life is even worth that rage.

A NOTE TO MY DEAR READERS: 

I wrote a piece tonight; at 3 AM, at a different site – Random Writings at 3 AM(Click! READ!!!) 

My mind is awake; keeping me awake in body and soul, so I write to amuse you; TO AMUSE MYSELF, I dare say, to pull from me that place words, to place upon the screen to let you read that which is inside my head; inside my brain.

Photo0047Here in the world; the darkness of the late night or early morning; I know not what, it matters to your perception; I begin to write, silly things, my words, thrown together quite madly, nothing in design or planning; random words typed quickly before they are lost to that insanity; no rhyme or reason I should say.

A memory interloped into the mess: not THAT far away in time but enough to make me realize, I am old, middle aged.

I was in high school, memorizing the passages of darling buds of May; henceforth a love done lost, to wishes and dreams unloved; is not that reality better to live, to breathe, to see, to feel that heart break then never to have loved before?

Memories trance themselves into view randomly; as if in a dream, I shall sleep soon, I believe, I shall see the faces of those who dance among the cerebral consciousness of myself, in that dream land, peeking out from here and there; tonight my dear readers is but a mess, of randomness.

My English teacher; throwing pages down upon my desk; a composition in my first madness.

‘Unbelievably dull characters; nothing seems alive, dead! Dead! Dead! F!’ she wrote upon it; in red. ‘You’ll never be more than what you are!’

I never understood, I still don’t; it’s impossible to be more than what you are; unless you break the laws of time and space; split the universe in half, rip reality into ninths and shit upon it all!!

But I digress, sweet readers, I do not know where my mind will take us; into madness, into love, into that sweet embrace of timeless wonders; that first kiss, that first date, that moment of first joy of release, though I shall not say that first fuck!

Words do drift out; could this be the end or the beginning?

I do not know; let us begin; said the joker to the king.

We all wears masks; we hide the reality, it is easier that way; the characters do drift in and out of our lives; and make us happy, sad, indifferent, etc. etc. etc.

This is how it shall be; the beginning, the middle and the end.

The holy trinity!

Good night; till tomorrow, I am forever indebted to you, dear reader, as you share with me; this journey through time and space; Good night!!!

 

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~CHAPTER TWO~

Stalker Dating Imaginary Love

June was waiting for something, drinking a half empty bottle of wine, on the bench, sliding south.

Where genius met, nobody knew, especially June.

Categories of questions fell from the sky, striking her on the nose in the form of rain.

She feared the dark but hated the light even more, in the light, they, the normal peoples could see the tears, the bruises, how she hated the light, that which exposed the truth, and the pain.

There was that chance, out there, someone was watching, knowing, seeing the truth, seeing her madness as she danced naked there in her yard at midnight.

A few times the neighbors, nosy pricks, would call the cops.

A few times she’d be placed in “For observation – 3 days” to see if she was a harm to herself.

A few times she had danced to the rhythmic music with a gun to her head.

She wouldn’t have pulled the trigger and even if she had,she didn’t have enough money for the bullet.

One time, she had pawned the gun to buy some bullets but then it came to her, where would she get a gun and she went home, downed a bottle of scotch she had stolen from the liquor store and danced around the yard naked making wild hand gestures to the sky above in hope that the aliens would see her.

She felt like a trapped being on this planet, like her true self was meant for some other place, out there, among the stars, maybe she was a princess.

Or a warrior, killing those who opposed her mighty sword.

She had a boy friend, a few actually, all imaginary but it kept her mom happy.

“How is life?” her mom would ask.

“Great! Stephen is taking me to the movies tonight!”

What was the harm?

If her mom asked, the movie was great, Stephen was now somewhere else, fighting for our freedom.

If she got too nosy, Stephen was killed, land mine, blew him to Mars.

It all made sense, inside her mind, she didn’t need Stephen anyways, she had Mark, an actor, he was on a TV series, she had sent him a letter, he had sent her a picture, yes, Mark was the answer to the question.

Now if only she had a gun….

Monday December 12th, 1921 –

My dearest Lanora,

My true love, to hold you one last time, to kiss thy lips, sweetness, embrace, shall we?

…it seems…

…I assume…

To be, as the young say about me, to be ‘improbable’ in things that could be, but in the scheme of things, are not.

Where? To see that smiling face of yours upon a vision, a quest?

To hold your hand, gently, tenderly, in mine?

To reach out towards a dream, of passion, fiery, disillusioned by that feeling, in the mind, in the loins, to hear the calling, under that pale moon light.

Who here does not know that feeling, of love?

A madness some say, to love, to dream of that sweet kiss upon the lips of a suited lover, a sweet, maddening thing, matter not that age, but in the heart, to rip apart, to destroy, with mere mentions of running away from that which is love

To fade in bitterness and hate.

I write you this letter, though I dare not send it, in case your family shall read it, to know I lust in my heart, to care, to love thee in such a way as to be almost a sin of that thee flesh, pressed against mine, in a forbidden way.

I would purpose to thee, on bended knee, to ask for thy hand, but alas, I am too poor, in both money and spirit, a broken man, this wine my only friend.

So here I sit, upon a plot of land, underneath that willow tree we once sat under, a stolen kiss, a glance, my hand on your lap, writing this letter to you, my sweet love, my Angel, thee who drives me to better things.

When I think of thee, I smile, my colleagues think I am growing quite mad, to hear them say, it is as you do not exist, I am writing these letters to a ghost, a nonperson, if such a term exists.

I tell them you are quite real, not a dream in my mind, scattered to the four corners when I awake.

They do not understand, how could I, a man of the cloth, a priest, be in such love, sacrilege, a sin?

I wish I had not taken this path, I wish I had gone with thee when you asked, my love, to raise a family with you, to be there for you, as you would be there for me.

Remember our talks in this place?

That night?

I remember it well.

I can still smell your sweet perfume, feel your soft hands in mine.

How I wish I could go back in time, to that day, to be there one more time with thee.

I know impossible, but, a dreamer dreams a thousand dreams, to sleep, to wander that sweet place in hopes that you are there.

Mayhaps tonight, you shall be there, I may hope, though dare not speak it, so that I do not curse myself, so I shall wander back, in hope, sweet love, that I shall see thee tonight.

With my love,

I shall send you this letter, I care not who reads, I am yours, in body,

Franklin

In the world we saw ourselves, nightmares wrapped in sweet dreams, a time when we were happy, we hardly knew ourselves.

Dreamers climbing down from their highest peak, into madness they do creep.

Where in highland do you sleep and dream of many things, followers do creep.

We don’t know where we’re going and God doesn’t even knows where we went, silence in the grave, down in sands of time, drifting through a life, good and bad combined into a strange song, we hardly knew ourselves when rainbows came to fall.

 

dude-wait-what-stoned-kitty-pedro-8122726Today seems like a good day to write about something positive, to skip over such icky subjects like homeless people, Political crap and other misfits trying to rule the world, natural disasters at a seemingly increasing level but we all know that climate change is a myth, and other crap hitting the media door right now.

So today, my friends, I decided to write about happy butterflies but apparently Google thinks happy butterflies equals stoned kitties and why not.

I wish I was stoned right now.

It would help in my writing, like:

FOLLOWERS, TO THE READY, LET US DEFEND OUR DEFENSELESS POSITIONS ON THINGS, WE ARE YOUR NIGHTMARE DRESSED IN PRETTY DREAMS, TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!

I don’t really feel like writing poetry or a serious posts, though, those do get hits from my general followers and Google searchers alike.

Hi Google searchers, how are you?

Fine?

Awesome!! Me too!!!

“Really?”

Yes I am!! I overdosed my diet Coke with many shots of energy stuff at the soda fountain and am feeling awesome.

“Awesome!”

Course, I made the mistake of turning over to the news and well, my buzz is still going, thank you very much!!!

So anyways, glad you’re still breathing and I am too!!!

Good night and have a better tomorrow, your friend,

ME!

Fear and Loathing in Louisville, Kentucky

By

Jason Giecek

 

I am in the land of Ali, the birth place of Hunter S. Thompson.

I am Dr. Me to Mr. Me to my lover’s preciousness.

She hates me during those phases, here I sit in evil phase, writing about the love of spring in the summer time.

I laugh at that sentence, almost comical, making me want to carve it into my chest.

I stand in fire waiting for life, to die, to dance in star light.

She cringes from human touch, she can’t remember a time that love was real, not a barren place, didn’t have to place her hope onto the back of her baby, life was reality, not just a dream,

A hopeless nightmare….

 

 

 

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I am just a common man, working a common job, almost enough to afford a common pad!

I wouldn’t ever run for a political office as I can’t smile that fake nor are my teeth that white.

I do know there is a homeless situation here in the fine city of Butte, Montana, my home town.

There has been for a while.

With or without a shelter, people, mostly good people, families even, down on their luck, are out there, living on the street.

You just have to wander Uptown Butte any time of the day, and look, really look, and you will see the issue before your eyes.

Even ride the bus, as a commoner, and see the issue.

Do I have the answer or the solution to this problem?

No, I do not.

With or without a homeless shelter, the problem still exists as we close our eyes to the main problem.

“Not in my neighborhood!” I’ve had lots of people say to me.

The problem is, they are already there.

I am one!

Good people, people who work, but who don’t make enough to afford housing,

They smile as they bag your groceries.

They laugh as they give your hamburgers.

They nod as you state your views about how “These bums should get a job!” or stop living off the systems.

A lot of them can’t live off the system, they are making too much at $8.80 an hour.

The waiting list is too long!

They smile but deep down, they are crying.

Yes, the system is broken.

Yes, there are the bums.

The drifters.

The fakes, the men and women who panhandle aggressively, who put their 50 bucks an hour through Coinstar, but honestly that is a very small percentage of the masses out there, living on the streets.

We must all remember we are only one step away from being one of the homeless masses.

One of the bums, who gets hot coffee thrown in his face.

Yes, it happens, I’ve seen it.

I know, I am on of the homeless masses, the dirty ones.

I am lucky.

I have friends who are there, who give me a bed.

And a shower, a place to shave, so I don’t look like one of the homeless.

I do know there are good people out there, providing meals on a limited budget.

I have helped them, shh, don’t tell my manager, I gave them ten cents off some rotten peaches!

We must remember what would Jesus do!

I am not a religious man but I have giving my last dime to a desperate man with three children, to buy milk.

I will be leaving my hometown of Butte, the place I call home, with tears in my eyes, as a proud man.

I love you Butte but…..