I Am A Man; Man, Man, Man, Up, Up, In The Air. And I Run Around, Round, Round, Round This Town, Town & I Act Like I Don’t Care

I have felt like dying, at least once in my life; if you are human, I know you have to. There are those who would have me feel ashamed for this. I have been insulted with words like, “At least I have never tried to kill myself,” by people who are just the living dead.

The problem is not the feeling like life is so bleak that we cannot go on. No; the problem is the shame, that we are conditioned to identify with our circumstances– It’s this idea of, what happens to me defines me.

We live in a world where social structures rule our lives. We are never taught that what defines us is how we react to our circumstances. Hell, we aren’t even taught how to react to our circumstances. Sadness makes us weak, anger makes us bad, resentment makes us ungrateful (we should be lucky we don’t live a third world country.. blah-blah-chokeonadick-blah). But then, we shouldn’t think ourselves wise, or talented, or proficient. It’s all about humility & the art of not feeling. I don’t know how many times I have heard people say things like, “It could always be worse.” What does that even mean??! So, because I’m not lapping up malaria infested water from a well in the middle of a dung heap, I should be happy that I don’t have the means to survive in this country, or that I was beaten as a child & have no family to speak of, or that…, or that…, or that…? I can already hear the self-righteous choir ringing in, “You make your own future. We ALWAYS have the means.” Well, “means” are not always monetary. Sometimes the means we lack are support, love, encouragement, a confidant.

It is crazy to me how simple the solution to society’s ailments are & yet we still keep chugging along with our bullshit mottos like, “Love is unconditional.” No it isn’t, & whoever told you that is a lie worse than Adolf.

Here are some truths you can take to the bank:

1. Titles mean NOTHING; People are people and they will let you down. They will try to shame you. They will judge you. They will hate you. They will marginalize you. Fuck them [literally or figuratively… different strokes for different folks]

2. EVERYONE has wanted to roll over & die at some point or another. It’s normal, it’s human, it’s natural. The only way to keep from actually doing it is to recognize it, talk about it & refer to #1

3. You are not defined by your circumstances or possessions. Who we are goes so far beyond our social class (& thereby, the pool of people from which we have to choose our acquaintances/lovers/friends, who we happen to be bore of, who we bear, etc. etc.)

4. Sometimes, it really is that bad.

5. Sometimes, it really is that good.

6. Emotions are good– It’s okay to say, “I am really amazing at this! I am so proud of myself. Look at how much I have accomplished!” Similarly, it’s okay to say, “I really screwed up. I’m depressed. I’m angry. I feel resentful. I don’t like myself right now.'”

7. Suppression is bad-  talking in a creepy soft voice, never yelling, never crying, never venting for fear of how others might view you WILL KILL YOU (ask the surgeon general). Besides, if people decide they don’t like you because of your circumstances all you need to do is refer to #1.

8. At some point we have to take responsibility for ourselves. We do that by living 1-7. In this way, we lighten our souls & keep our surroundings as ideal as can be. We feel no shame, only growth; always growth. As long as we are striving to be better, to grow, to learn, to achieve, we’re good. BUT, only take responsibility for the things you should. Let others worry about picking up their own loads, & never allow anyone to try & hand you yours– that doesn’t work anyway.

If we allow ourselves to feel, recognize how things happen (sometimes it’s our fault, sometimes it’s not, & it’s okay to admit to both), & strive ever to learn from our circumstances– instead of allowing ourselves to be defined by them– we will all be better for it. The world will be better for it.

Intrinsic Instruments

Silence strangles me.

Serendipity strengthens me.

Singing is scrutiny into and of my hapless soul,

Saving my senility for something bigger to swallow;

Saving my serenity: bid for my fast safe return.

Specters in the sky, specters in the night,

Strange and lovely demons plague the air.

The stroke of the majestic midnight,

The servile recruiter of raucous tidings,

Silence strangles me,

Silence sets me free.

Saving eternity,

A saline of the sea,

A solution sprung of sanity.

Six Figga Nigga

Sighing qualms for peace;

Angsty with integrity.

Void and annoyance.

 

You stole my car, bitch?

Instigation, criminal.

My house, my rules, my cash.

 

Honey, you know, ho’!

Little fella’s up on me.

Jeal’sy makes you green

 

Little Girl.

 

Suicide saves no one,

For they answer to Him.

And, I pray every night and know that He has no mercy for a thief….

Musings on a Whim

Question to be alive, and to be free;

But do not question me.

Question to feel the sun, and what your mind calls benevolent,

But do not forget that otherwise you’ll regress.

Question absurdity, question antitheses, question to besiege;

But do not question,

Do not question me

And certainly do not question anything.

For me, for I agree

Wednesday dreams leave me feeling serene,

But Sunday,

That Sunday sun sings it’s rhythms like no one.

Flags and freedom, oh, a guy can dream.

And I feel serene.

And I feel serene.

Your tangible face, while yes, it drifts away,

I’m not apologetic, but I’m not apathetic.

And cream, it sits at the top, waiting for me.

And I feel redeemed.

Monday lifts me up on my heels, screaming scathing onerous drills.

I dream of quitting; a dream surreal,

And I feel surreal.

‘Cause quite lately I have been eating cake.

I have been both in possession of said cake, and I have been defiant in eating it as well.

I am blessed, can’t you tell?

Bonus et Sapiens                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             A la Craig

Quiet lies hide the tide of change

That tries to bloom.

Indiscretion hides a bitter life of regret;

I can’t forget.

Some Sunday sun

Seems benevolent.

I question and I try to remain indifferent,

But the tides, like the ides,

Forbid me from reminiscing

Forbid me from forgiving

Forbid me from living and breathing,

For they only know bereaving.

Conscience, I’ve lived.

Decrepit, and at once livid:

I foresee a day,

A day as righteous as a flower in May.

I deliver my thanks

And I consecrate my

Banks of knowledge.

I’ve got knowledge.

But can I forget all this that I’ve tried to beget?

I want to be a new sapling; a tree. I want to be, but I want to be me.

A poem of a little flower growing strong

That bold young flower, which grows

By the sol’s power,

And bathes in the moon glowing bright

Over the dunes, triumphs over

The weeds that the garden master

Cannot see.

And the weeds, while they sting,

While they blame, and while they bleed

Out all the nutrients, crippling

Said flower’s stead, do not

See, do not dream, do not

Relent, and with fervor vent.

However, as I see it,

The flower

Grows, and the flower shows

Off its petals, crying not

In the presence of those who

Meddle, further circumventing

All those who will not start relenting.