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She was the eye of the storm: for all things in life had clarity when standing at her side, as if the sun wished only to save itself when the boy and his love lay in arms. Though when a distance separates him from the center of such a tempest, things go awry. shades of grey replace the azure sky. Wall clouds surround and threaten to spew twisters, where minutes before, her smile had occupied its space. Life no longer makes sense as thoughts are disrupted by a violent internal maelstrom, flailing and hopeless like the love you bare.

Sleep evades me, like the normalcy I’ve strode after

It hides in a crevasse, too deep for me to reach

The cracks swallow it whole, a natural disaster

All I can do, is get on my knees and admit defeat

 

Bottle after bottle, I find myself three sheets

And more to come, I’m powerless

I’m just a vessel for this demon’s  treat

The passenger returns, it’s choice is drink.

“It strikes me now that poets are great sufferers; they seem to have more than double the nervous sensitivity of the average person. They may experience exceptional joys, but their sorrows too are boundless. This being the case, it’s worth thinking twice before you become a poet.”

Natsume Soseki

Regarding faith, I am not one to pass judgment on others in life, especially when it comes to religion. Religion is not something I actively take part in as a member, but I do take lessons from all religion (attempt to at least) and try to apply them to my own life as a lot of the values appreciated in Christianity and Catholicism, even eastern religion, falls into line with what I consider morally just. I simply find it more pleasing to explore the boundaries of life and what it means to me. Limiting myself to a certain set of guidelines, in my opinion at least, takes away from what I can learn from my time here on earth. The good and the bad, I find both necessary to explore. Not to enforce, but to understand. I
 
I do however, feel a sense of a higher power in my life. Whether it is the Christian God, or the Greek Gods,  Karma, or my own God (Good Orderly Direction. The term came up in a writer’s workshop book and it stuck) I feel some presence. I can’t claim faith in any religion, but I do understand the necessity of their structure in our lives. I think even if Heaven and God, or Zeus and his clan etc. are all myths, they still provide a great structure for people to live by and allows them to live peacefully in a society that is working towards a universal goal. Which is usually eternal life after death (Death, being a major conundrum for humans in general). What I mean is it seems that they all attempt to deal with the difficulties of death for us, so that we can more easily focus on living virtuous lives without excess, or worry of what will happen to us posthumously. With faith, comes answers. Something humans have been craving for thousands of years.
 
And I do believe it has helped me through inclement weather, faith, in whatever presence I feel. I believe that having faith, in any respect, is something the human race needs. Be it in a God, or yourself. Otherwise we are simply bags of protoplasm waiting to go 6-feet under, or to leave a lasting impression on humanity for our own vanity. Both may lead down self-destructive paths. After-all, you’d be hard pressed to select a great influential figure in the history of intelligent human existence if they had no faith in themselves or some other higher power. 
Just my two-cents on faith, and what it means to me.

/begin rant

To the city of San Jose, fuck you very much for spreading the “joy” of the holidays with a fatty-fine for my having to park in front of my grandparents house as we celebrated our Christmas Eve tradition. I hope you realize you have a major congestion issue and should resolve it instead of dishing out fines to hard-working citizens just trying to enjoy a fine holiday with the people they love, minus the goddamn government sticking their head in for their own piece! Can’t you take a break for one night? Who needs parking authority on occasions such as these? Think!

End rant\

In vaults of fathomless obscurity

Where Destiny has sentenced me for life;

Where cheerful rosy beams may never shine;

Where, living with that sullen hostess, Night,

 

I am an artist that a mocking God

Condemns, alas! to paint the gloom itself;

Where like a cook with ghoulish appetite

I boil and devour my own heart,

 

Sometimes there sprawls, and stretches out, and glows

A splendid ghost, or a surpassing charm,

And when this vision growing in my sight

 

In oriental languor, like a dream,

Is fully formed, I know the phantom’s name:

Yes, it is She! though black, yet full of light.

 

Written by Charles P. Baudelaire

The wench who lies, claims a humanitarian prize.

Her philosophical cacophony, takes hold of thee.

“It’s not you, it’s me” she speaks in sparse varieties.

The meaning repeats and she nails the introduction.

Riding high on her studded saddle, specialized in corruption

She can say it’s for the best when there’s no data to attest

And with her word as a granite foundation there’s no life

To suckle from its breast.

 

The Way it Goes

My protoplasmic shell sits warm in the Summer sun,

while my soul lies trapped in the frozen tundra.

The two cannot coexist, without negating creation;

resulting in, psychological frustration.

An impasse in the innards of a ruined soul,

between warring generals of Good and Evil.  

Time will not heal, nor will the Summer sun loosen their grasp.

Instead I remind myself of the days we spent together.

Remembering the good, the bad, and everything between.

A tickle of warmth, to break the firing line, a brief reprieve.

Living like a slave to buried memories.

We shined like the brightest stars

even on the darkest of nights.

Yet we never knew when to give up a fight.

I guess this is where I find the light,

or recess into the shadow-less night. 

love… will I ever get you right?

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A revision…

The Way it Goes

It’s been so long since I’ve talked to her

The “old” her

Before my mind over-emphasized her grandeur

Before my self-destructive tendencies

Broke my heart in two cities

Half fled, with her, half stayed behind

Reluctant to commit at any point in time

Itself to the trials of deferring love or lust

for a tender heart, swept north in a gust

a primordial wind whose current lay ancient

with whispers of the Renaissance and darkest of ages,

with conflicting wisdom, not to be believed,

by anyone, but the naive: Me.

 Then life became a bore without her,

without her in my hopeless arms.

I pressured and I endured

With fables of love, and the way “I LOVED HER!”

All simply a veil, over childhood insecurities

As if she were the light, and I, frightened by night

Feared the dusk when she leaves.

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