Mixed Emotions

Riding the high from the Patriots win is exhilarating. But my mind is also wicked heavy because today my brother goes to NY. I would be lying if I said I didn't have thoughts that this could be the last time we see each other. I need him to know how much I really do love him. I really do. So much, so much it hurts. It hurts to have to have him depart, but I have a sense that this is the best thing for him. I am just so sorry that we could not work it out. I wish I could have been a better brother, a better mentor, a better person. But wishing is for suckers.

I only want the best for my brother, my family, my blood. I pray he sees that. I pray he knows that through all we've been, I love him more now than ever. And I always and forever will have his back. I know emotions can get flared up and sometimes the message gets lost, but no matter what he is always my brother and I love him so much.

Death

Death is an interesting topic. Some people avoid it, some people have had to deal with it so much it becomes that of a second nature to them. There are people on both ends of the spectrum on this. The extremists who will not mention the word because a fear of it, then those who are served with reminders of it in every photo they look at. Either way, no matter where your view stands on it, it is all of our collabrative and ultimate fate. Whether we choose to acknowledge it or not.
It can be a surreal, and intimidating thought, when the reality of it hits you.
Most people probably dont acknowledge it, whatever the reason is unimportant, the reason serves a purpose.

Kickin'thelivinpissouttame

Cant wait till I rest in peace, it aint tragic
Cuz till then Imma go getta and cause some havoc


Another rough week down the hatch but I fear things might get harder. In trying to form a relationship with my brother, all things failed. I am sure I am much at fault too but I cant help but question why, that in all my attempts to bond with him, care for him, and love him, he never said a word to me. He did not communicate, and I feel like he did not even try to attempt at reciprocating any love shown. I dont know what I did to cause such a harsh resistance but I wish he would of said something, anything, just opened the lines of communication. So then we could break down the walls that separate us and begin anew in our brotherhood. But wishing is for suckahhhs. I am just violently ill with sadness because I feel like I am at such a loss of direction on how to make things good again. I want it so bad, but I guess if only one side wants it, then it aint happening. It rips my heart out and stomps on it while still beating on the floor - bloody and badgered.

I wrote this Blog for my other blog

This Blog comes to you from my other blog.....

Ephesians 6:10 - end

Resillient (spelling???). Americans, even before America was America, the people on this land have been hard fought and resillient. I dont want US to ever loose that quality. Through diversity hath come prosperity. Hard work and resillience.

Loyalty. The word holds power. Or at least in my life it holds power and I hold the word in high regard. Since I have been out west, there is one time I think I was loyal to someone who I probably should not have been (or at least as much as I was). But I feel and I learned through therapy, I can be loyal to a fault. It is an unhealthy enabling reflex that has been ingrained into my psychie (spelling of that word, no idea). While watching Anthony Bourdain the other night, on Tony's show No Reservations the one I recently blogged about, Anthony said that while he was grinding it out working in kitchens for chefs he didn't like, he said something that struck me wicked bad....... He talked about keeping it real and integrity. Anthony questions keeping it real and backs it up by stating that he had to work in situations he did not like so how could he be keeping it real. It was amazingly put. I respect Anthony Bourdain a lot. And his take on things is enlightening, to me at least. I always took pride in trying to keep it real, or at least trying to stay as real as I could. But in reality, when Anthony Bourdain broke his stituation down, sometimes the ability to keep it real is just not there. It does not exist. Sometimes you have to, for your own good, you gotta surpress your individuality and make it a sacrifice because you are still paying your dues. I have felt that exact way so many times, where I felt a shut mouth is bettah than any other option. It was just amazing to hear someone, Anthony Bourdain, put it into words and do it in a cool, understandable, and truthful way - He kept it real doing that. it was just one of those moments where it made sense to me, a lightbulb moment. I had known that feeling, was never able to comprehend or verbalize it. And within a moment, Tony B sums it all up. WICKED Brilliant. After I thought I couldn't appreciate Anthony Bourdain anymore, he goes and does something like this - And TOTALLY made me respect him even more.
I know I have said this before but seriously watch that No Reservations episode, I believe it's called - Where It All Began. Wicked good episod3

Crushed

I am crushed inside. I don't know where I went wrong but the more I think about it, the more I think "What if I did this.... What if I had took a different approach.... What if I gave more of myself.... What if...."
The "What If's" in life will eat your alive.
I know better than to focus on them. But in this moment, at this crossroads I am here facing again, I can't help but look back and wondering. Am I a bad guy? Maybe if I wasn't "me" then things would be different. Maybe it wouldn't feel like my life is shattered in a million pieces on the ground. Maybe my family wouldn't be broken.
I know, I know that I sound like a confused 13 year old kid wondering if it is his fault for his family unit breaking up around him. But I think that little kid still exists to an extent in my mind. A traumatic experience can do that to you. And I've been through a few recently.

My immediate thought this am

I had a thought about a lifelong good friend of mine, a friend who I went to elementary school with, his dad was my basketball coach and we played on the same team, we were real close growing up. But like all things, time had it's way and we parted ways took different life roads, walked our own paths like we all do in life. Nevertheless, when I went back home for my moms funeral, his family came and I got to see him for the first time in years. Even though it had been years, maybe 10 years or more, we still spoke like life had not happened inbetween. It was good to see him and even more though, I know we had both traveled troubled roads. We had both experienced pain, suffering, tragedy, and a infliction of self demise due to personality traits gone awry. I am speaking from solely my point of view.... because we weren't in touch for years I only heard stories of his walk, and I am guessing he only heard stories of mine. Either way, not trying to say anything bad, I am just saying we both had a rough walk. Something mutual we shared in this crazy life.
This am, he was on my mind, he was an immediate thought of mine. I just felt overpowered to reach out and get back in touch with him. When we spoke at my mums funeral, we exchanged contact information, and we talked of reconnecting. I emailed him this morning and hope to re-cement the bonds we once had.


**** I just had a realization, it might have been apparent to some but I can be wicked oblivious at times (ignorance is bliss and so on), but I can't shut my brain off. Going to sleep and even when I wake up, I have trouble, a wicked hard time, keeping my mind from racing. Thoughts crowd my head and I can't stop thinking especially when I lay down to try to sleep..... And the wicked irritating thing is, is that it can be so obnoxious. Obnoxious to the point, that as soon as I wake up my thoughts continue almost convincing me that I never slept, and my thoughts just carried on consistently without stop. Relentless(seemingly). It might sound stupid but that just hit me like a frieght train and the light bulb above my head lit up, brightly. Thoughts/Over-Thinking can be a b*tch.  



ADD thoughts are the worst too. Feel me?!!!

I wasn't gunna post this writing.... But I will. What am I scared of.......

This was a writing I did a few weeks back. I guess my fear is people thinking, ah more like knowing, what a wicked weirdo my writing can be. I am trying to refuse to let fear dictate my life, and posting this is a big step for me.

Called, In The Company.

In the company

of giants

Forged my way through amidst the steel and rubbish

Following the footprints of monsters

My name written in calligraphy on my neck

Designer everything ruled

It was a vacuum sucking in the life's and souls already thrown away by their owners

Drawn in by the intense aromas and desirables dancing their way to exotic extents

i've been traded

I've been given a new life enslaved in the belly of the beast

Tradgidy and romance collide here only to form a new essence of what they both once was

realists need not play here

only the once broken and soul selling must know this feeling

Absolute absolute-ness

Redefined every time they change

from what once was, now is, now is gone, now is what never was

Given to me as a birth right

And torn away everytime I think I know myself inside out

You bleed senseless nonsense and I crave senseless acts

contrition is not far from being our only savior

devoured by impulse, reactionary reactions

when we draw lines in the sand who are we keeping out

or is it us that we are really keeping in

a challenge bid by our own undoing

we are

in the company

I am trying to visit the past lives

Of ones I ve never met

Only to seek their advice on wisdom never heard

a wisdom so great in depth that to ears it comes in the sound of music which speaks directly to our souls

it opens minds like horizons and delves deeper than inspirations, touching the heart of our souls

only visiting is allowed, for this runs to great a risk to keep me here

and on the outside, we all have been here before.... its the inside so few have seen

My dreams

You keep

my faith

locked up

I'm Trying To Write

On A Consistent Basis Here.

I had two thoughts this morning, the first, Idle Hands Are The devils workshop.
The second, I saw a guy power walking this am, at quarter to 5, the guy was wicked old, must of been in his late 50's. And thought to myself, I should get up wicked early and go for a run. I am NOT a morning person, I have and never will be. But I thought it must be an amazing way to start the day. It must take a lot of strength to be that person that wakes up before the sun and out in the blistering chill of the last of night, go walk/run/exercise outdoors. But the more power to you if you do that. And I flirted with the idea this am.

Idle Hands can be weapons. Weapons against yourself, to your own demise. Depending on how well you know yourself, I guess, and on how crafty of a person you are (I'm am speaking to myself here). Like the typical Good Vs. Evil struggle that has been continuing on for-ever, I find that within ourselves we can experience that struggle too. We find ourselves more vunerable and apt to experience that trouble with Idle Hands.


This blog has become a blessing of an outlet for me. When I feel like I have zero strength left and the ability to speak with no one, I write here. It doesn't fix things but it has created this unique out for me.

Walk A Mile

Walk a mile
Walk a mile with me
then you'll see
all the destruction I've seen
Mean, unforgiving, in rarest form
tormented, demented, shattered and torn

Walk a mile
Walk a mile with me
to a spot where cannibals eat
or at least you'd think so
from what I've seen,
but they prey on nothing but junkies and pheens

Walk a mile
Walk a mile with me
keep breathing is what they say is the key
but I can't breath, cant sleep, cant eat
because I got monsters lurking in from the deep

So walk a mile, walk a mile with me
maybe you'll believe when I share my dreams
Dreams and Nightmares seem to blur between
Reality is busting at the seams
Walk A Mile with me

Love Less

It's not that I will Love Less
It's More Like I feel Love/Less
I promise I don't Love Less
I just don't want any Love Less
It's hard to be so Love/Less
Believe Me, I don't choose to Love Less
But I Believe I know Love Less
The More I feel Love/Less

We Ain't Done Yet

We ain't done yet
We think we've met all the diversity we should meet
But Life has it's way of bouncing us back to our feet
We ain't done yet
We think all bets will be placed against our postition
But then we find someone who believes in our ambition
We ain't done yet
So know your lows only go,
As high as your highs will rise,
And if we can weather each blow
Pain can not suffice, but eventually die

We Ain't Done Yet

No way to describe it but I'll try.

The only way I can somewhat kinda sort of maybe relate to the way I've been feeling is.... if you've ever been knocked out before. And I'm talking seeing colors, knocked out, saw black, come to, seeing the color spots, and then getting your grip of what just happened...... and come to realize, damn I think I was knocked out for a minute. No, I know I just got knocked out. Standing on my feet, knocked the F*** out.
And the only reason I know that sensation and awakening/realization is from when I took boxing. I loved boxing, not getting my bell rang but loved sparring, just being in the ring, toe to toe, every punch thrown was therapuetic.
Surreal. Great word, better definition. It helps to exactly define what my sensation has been walking around day to day. Surreal.
Like reality has left me, leaving to grip and cling onto the last desperate clutches of what I used to know, my reality has changed and it hasn't been kind enough to let me catch up, get my bearings, or prepare. But that's life. You will never be prepared for tragic events. I guess adaptability is a virtue, somewhat like patience.

Give it a once-ovahhh

I happened to come across the book "When Bad Things Happen To Good People" yesterday..... most random, have no idea who owned that book in my household but it was sitting on the outside table when I got home and it felt like it was calling me, inviting me, and demanding that I read it. I ain't a book worm, nor am I even close to a wicked good reader..... even that sentences spells out how un-reader-ish I am. But I contained my ADD spazzed mind for long enough to read this book yesterday, And it was worth ever hour I dedicated to reading it. I took away a few wicked amazing points. And if you can take something away from a book, especially life lesson type ish, then that is a wicked good book in my opinion.

Ghost

I've been compelled to write. Some of this stuff hasn't even been me, it feels like. I don't know why but I keep coming to my computer and needing to write. Like getting sick, like vomiting, your mind says "oh God no, please I hate throwing up" but your body demands differently knowing better and making you vomit. It's like something keeps making me lyrically vomit. I keep spewing words on the page, not caring if its good or not, just needing to get it out. I feel the essence of my mother with me when I do. My mother was a writer and compassionately left her soul on the page. Something deeper tells me it's her, helping me get it out. You may think I'm crazy, But I don't know how else to explain why I have been compelled, no, made, to write so often lately.

The Heart Of Mathematics

One + One = Two
The Two of Us - Me = You
Love + Love = True
Misery + Me = You
Simple Mathematics
Love + You = Nothing      if....
Me + You = A Divide
You - Me = Heartache
Me + Heartache = Trying To Survive
Simple Mathematics
Divide You/Me = Questions
Questions = Loss
Loss > Love                     if.....
Love > Cost

You + Me = Love
Me + Love = Blind
Blind + Love = Everything
Divide Everything/Love = Trying To Survive

Me - You = My Heart
Divide My Heart/You = Love
Love - My Heart = Loss
Love - Loss, is = Choking

My Heart - You = Broken



The Heart Of Mathematics

Your Voice on Paper

a quick script
soft and poignant
powerful yet elegant
your voice on paper
like God speaking through your fingertips
your voice on paper
I hear you speak the words
your voice on paper
to the point
demanding
yet movingly beautiful and delicately displayed across the page
your voice on paper
I hear your voice on paper
I hear you speak the words
you haven't been gone for all that long
yet it seems the sounds from these words begin to fade each day
A symphony of letters construed to dance in time
conducting lyrical soul-poetry dressed in cursive lines
Masterpiece refined
your voice on paper
giving life to love
God speed me your love
give me life to love
your voice on paper
so perfect in your own way
so well spoken across the page
of yourself everything you gave
your voice on paper

fixed my eyes to realize that really I, saw your voice on paper

So Close

Its beyond intimate, so close, we lay, I feel your soul connecting to my mind heart body and being
We are So Close
Words will never express what we really feel, words have a way of making this seem less than deep
We are So Close
Our timing is impeccable even when we are not on time, we give each of ourself for hell or high water
We are So Close
If we could separate time from existence, that is where we would lay, in a field of bright white energy
Together We are So Close