I have never felt this way before.
An overwhelming emotion,
That my words may not reward.
They will tear me apart before
I can speak through clenched teeth.
A feeling as relentless as
The pounding in my chest.
From a heart that has lost itself,
in the maze which is my mind.
Yearning to break out from
A body that keeps it shackled.
Locked away without the love it cries for.
Still, it beats with vigor, no matter,
Its fate assured.
Instead it makes me write these pages
Filled with moments at its weakest.
Hoping these bleak reminders be
Enough to tempt its warden.
“Set me free, let my soul say what it needs
Let me fall in love and fall away
Into the stars which are her eyes.
Where the thought of her touch
Is enough to last me the night.
Keep the darkness from a heart
That has seen the path to light.
For every moment spent in the shadows,
The memory of her smile still shines bright”
Yet my mind keeps its pace,
while my feet stay planted.
Remaining stagnant in the shallows of my soul.
Wading in a pool of memories wrought.
Where my dreams can’t find their way to you.
No being has brought me to this point
When return is just an afterthought.

So, I only got one “like” from my last GlassJaw installment and although I am ecstatic that she enjoyed the song, I feel that not many people gave them a solid chance. So I give you another song to try and sway the vote. This one is a fast-paced, love-hate song about the singer’s Ex-GF. Or so it is to be assumed. I’ll post the lyrics as well so if you don’t want to listen, you can at least read 🙂

Who you fucking now?
I use my slit wrist
to sign my name with
And when you can’t compete with the Joneses
You cut ’em all down (even the father)
You fucking whore!
Shut up and swallow my pride for me, go.
Move closer and drive further.
So why don’t you suck on the end of this dick that comes lead
But first I’m coming after you all!!!

It’s ladies night at the bar
And she smokes a man’s cigar
I guess she’s dying,
Oh well. Pfft.
I don’t give a fuck about your dignity
That’s the bastard in me.

I know a girl who sells herself around
And I’m sure that one day
She’ll sign autographs in your town.

You fucking whore, who you fucking now?
You fucking…

Shut up and swallow my pride and go;
move closer or drive further
For as you suck on the end of this dick that comes lead
I’ll be coming for you all!!!

Looking back into my diary
What makes me say those things?
What causes my laughter
At another’s disaster
It’s the bastard in me

I know a girl
Who sells herself around
And I’m sure that one day
She’ll sign autographs in your town.

Who you fucking now, you fucking live in shit.
You mean shit to me you mean shit.
You eat shit, you fucking whore!

I strain myself I guess I guess
I fucked myself I guess I guess
I strain myself I guess
I mean it you fucking whore!

You live in shit
and you will eat your own way
Everynight.

I’m too fly and shy
Too fly and I, like no other guy
Too fly and shy just for you
I’m too fly and shy, I’m like no other guy
I’m too fly and shy just for you
I’ll mark you all!!!

This was an assignment from one of my high school English teachers. She gave each student an image depicting a victim of the Holocaust; then we were to write a short story describing what life for that particular victim might have been like. My image was of a young boy whose clothes were tattered and torn with a smudge of mud grazing his cheek. He looked into the camera with dead eyes, as if what he saw in there changed him forever. I can only hope my description does the kid justice.

 I Saw It All

I saw it all in The Ghetto. Life, death and torturing. This was a place of horror. When the secret police raid The Ghetto we crawl into small holes in the wall and day after day one by one we would come out until it is all safe. The police would take older people first and then the children. The conditions were terrible yet we were forced to bear it. One day we were captured and sent to a camp. There we sat cold, wet and damp…

I saw it all. The black smoke and gray ashes fell like snow from the furnaces within the camp. This wasn’t snow though, snow is pure, this was something much more sinister. The stench was unbearable; they were burning dead bodies in those furnaces. Flesh, human flesh, was melted off the soul of some poor woman or child. Walls all around me with towers that look like sharp knives cutting through the thick black smoke. As ash lands on my cheek a tear wipes it off of my face. I was sure that I would end up in the furnace.

When we entered, the guards had us strip to nothing and they washed us off with disinfectant. Although by now the only thing they had left to strip us of was our dignity. I could feel it burn on my skin but that was the least of my worries. Where is my mother? They led us into the next room and they shaved off all of our hair; lice they said. After that we were all thrown outside onto the dirt and sand. They yell at us to get into a straight line and if anyone talks we get a whip across the face.

So we stand still waiting for instructions and then a few guards come out with boxes of what looked like cloth and as the guards unveiled it, it showed a white tunic to wear as a prisoner. On this tunic it had the Star of David with the letter “P” in the center. we had to wear these constantly back in Poland. I always saw it as a form of enslavement and had thought I got rid of it forever, but now I am back where I started though now in a more terrible place.

The first day passed and already I felt weak. Nothing to eat for 48 hours and only very little to drink. I am worried about how I’m going to get out of here.

 

Finally four icy months later our camp was liberated by the U.S. army and we were finally free. But, the feeling of freedom didn’t feel like it had before. It was empty, like the stomachs of my fellow captives. I saw a photographer and as he aimed his camera at me, I had a look of sadness and disappointment because what I have seen inside these walls will haunt me forever. My mind is still trapped.

 

He had a sort of unhinged excitement in his voice when speaking with this girl, his best-friend. Never for a moment did he take his eyes off of hers as she let words flow out of her mouth like a genteel waterfall, floating down into his ear canals; burrowing continuously her name into his head… Elaine Moore, or Ellie, as Gerry would call her.

No, Gerry had not harbored these feelings since they were kids. No, he was a young man going through mental and physical changes. Some call it “puberty”, and others may call it “high school”. And he had only begun to see what the female race could do to affect his demeanor. Ellie, was the only one who sent him so far beyond the limits of emotions that he never thought possible. But having Bella, as his rowdy girlfriend wasn’t a bad 2nd place. No matter how vigorously Bella, had tried to please him, Ellie had always taken the top slot in his priorities. Goodness she was a love-sick puppy, and Gerry was absolutely blind to the destruction he was causing Bella. She may have been one to run-around on guys before, but she always said that something about Gerry, made her feel like she could never be hurt by him. That he was the epitome of a modern chivalrous man. Never did she think once of reconnecting with one of her old flames. In her eyes, they were all minced meat compared to Gerry. But this was still OUR Gerry. The skinny, lanky, dorky, child. And boy did she adore him. Nothing could have prepared her for the end.

It wasn’t until the day that Ellie, left for her new destination that Gerry realized how much he truly cared for her. No longer as just a friend, but a suitor. He was going through an unmistakable change from a disinterested card-holding, he-man woman hater, to an intellectual lover overnight.

He realized how much he truly ached to hear her voice reverberating in his ear drums again without the aid of the copper wired telephone lines. How he longed to touch her lips with his own; even if a kiss would be too much, he would do with a touch of her hand against his. Just something to break the physical boundaries that only now seemed so formidable.

But where did these feelings come from? Surely, Gerry did not know himself. He assumed that since she had turned into a full-blown hotty- seemingly over the summer- (for lack of a better term) that he was simply becoming sexually attracted to her. With his reasonable mindset, this was all he chalked it up to be. But still, something ached deep inside him night and day so long as their distance apart remained the same. And soon he would have to either act on its call, or forever let it fall silent. Again, as much the man of reason he attempts to be, he cannot find a reasonable end for this situation. And in turn, he vowed to one day secure the hand of his true love, or potentially watch their friendship die in the wake of catastrophe.

It’s a crying shame when your choice of game is never-ending fame for the victor. Fires ablaze over the valleys you raze for those quiet days you wish to devour,With your designed rhymes in space and time; yet they float like the faceless dictator you are. If man can’t speak his mind without being branded a Martyr; I will take a stand, take his hand, and raise it for the future to follow.

For a change, I wanted to expose some of you to what is potentially my favorite band of all time. Some of you have probably already been graced with their hectic hymns, and some may have already banished them to a place in their memory where “watching the paint dry” falls into place.

But I hope that I can garner some new followers of GlassJaw by letting Daryl Palumbo do what he does best. Enjoy.

I asked for her hand in this dance, she refused. Now, what am I to do but mourn the loss of her warmth in my life? The bliss she brought with a kiss and the scent of her hair waving in the air; wafting aromas only heaven could posses.

———-

It’s like a car crash killing your best friend in an instant. Never knowing what went wrong. Asking yourself ” could i have taken a different road? Is this how it’s meant to end?”. Nothing but the wreckage is left. Her last goodbye still ringing in my head.

 ———-

She took her exit stage left with a quickness. They tell me “move on” but I’m glued to my seat, floored for an encore. Because forgetting the unrelenting cry is more than just a task; it prefers ‘shine in a flask until i’m face down, just an undercover lover in the background.

 ———-

Hiding my shame in this never ending game of blame, it torments me. Mind like a tennis court, back and fourth between the truth and pale blue eyes. An opponent who no longer exists, still longs for my demise.

The other day a good friend of mine approached me regarding an idea that he was very enthused about pursuing. So naturally, I was curious to see what it was that had him sending me three-page text messages containing what seemed to be a plot of some sort..

Well, he wants to create a devilishly haunting video game. One that will have the player quaking in their boots with each step they take. So to sum things up, he asked me to write the back-story for the game. Basically giving the characters some meaning and some information as to how they ended up in the position they are in during the game.  He gave me general guidance on how to write the intro and then essentially allowed me to have free reign.

So I thought it would be cool to post up our progress on my blog to get some exposure and potentially get some input from others who may have pointers or opinions on detail orientation etc. I hope you enjoy what we have so far! 🙂

P.J.- We were on the road again, Jane and I. Rebels with a cause; trying to find our own way through this frigid world we call “home” with nothing but the miserable hand we were both dealt to keep us moving. The night was pitch black, as if God forgot to pay the power bill and Zeus had no mercy for those afraid of the dark. No lightening, no stars; all on the night of a new moon. Just the rhythmic raindrops pelting my windshield and the sound of a bewildered jazz musician crooning his sorrows through the air-waves. Needless to say, I had been white-knuckling it all night.

Jane, was fast asleep in the passenger seat; lulled away by the smooth rhythm of Good Year tires gliding over a freshly paved road. Sweet, innocent Jane. She is all I have left in this world, and sometimes I feel as if I’ll never be strong enough to keep her safe. I look over and see her little hand cradling a picture of the family we used to have. The family that gave us everything they could, and asked for nothing in return.

Our mom, dad, our LIFE, all gone. Wiped out in the blink of an eye just weeks before. It happened on a family vacation. Apparently my mom, dad, the grandparents that haven’t succumbed to old age, and my best friend, Darryl were all going to surprise me with a visit on campus in Oregon. You know, the whole “familial-support” thing. I guess they really wanted to see me succeed, or they just wanted to drag me back home.

Alas, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to. Those answers –along with the only people in the world who cared for me– are lost in Rogue River after careening off the bridge in what was called a “freak-accident”. Maybe forever, or maybe until next week when the National Guard launches their State-Mandated search for the bodies. I hope they don’t find anything; maybe it’ll let Jane, hold on a little while longer.

I’m not holding out much hope though. It was a two-hundred and fifty-two foot drop (said the police report) to the bottom of a river that travels for miles with white water’s ranging from a babbling brook to a raging torrent; eventually dumping everything it consumes into the Pacific. It was a miracle that Jane was spared the horror in the first place, therefor I refuse to dwell on the specifics.

She is all I worry about now. My Aunt, Rose was in charge of caring for her during the Family’s visit. I guess Jane, had been having trouble coping with middle school. She didn’t make any friends, and the popular snobs tormented her to the point of retaliation. I thank God, every day since then; If she hadn’t punched the head Cheerleader’s lights out, I may have lost all sanity when the Sheriff’s department reported the nightmare that I am still trapped in. My parents forced her to stay home as a punishment. They said she would have to “wait ’till Christmas to see your big Brother”. Well, I guess Christmas has come early this year. God damn that jolly fat man. 

 

Heart beat’s racing faster
Staring at my “Angel Eyes”, it
Sets my mind up for disaster.
Wishing I could run for miles.
Still I stepped into her limelight;
Waging war on love I’d never won.
Wishing I could run.
———-
Instead I find those emerald eyes
Glaring, until this pain subsides
Knowing this could never last
I kneel down and take her hand;
I can’t stay, “just friends”
It’s not the way I wished “us” to end
I don’t need a friend
———-
I can’t take the way he makes you feel.
Breaking a heart that never heals
From burns his words have made;
Turning to scars that never fade.
While I pick up the only pieces left
Like an obedient love-struck slave.
Never misbehaved.
No more than a maid.
———-
Not knowing why I wasn’t enough
Consumed the hope I’d never lost
From compliments you’ve made
To looks you swore you never gave
Your poison sunk into my veins
Lacing this knot in my blackened heart
Still hung by strings you conduct.
———-
 Sure I swore I’d always love you;
But this feeling’s fading fast
No longer is it enough to say “I do”.
A phrase I know to be overused.
The truth comes in a flash.
Four years of friendship, fades to black.
———-
But girl you know I tried.
I laid my heart across the line.
Still  it’s not enough.
Ran outta luck.
It’s not enough.
The last petal’s plucked;
She loves me not.