Monday, August 31, 2015

Poetry: 'Love's Lament'

Have you ever been with someone;
someone who's slightly off?
Whose head, while yours was in the clouds,
was face down in a trough?
Have you ever noticed how you shine
eclipses all they are?
How your growth casts shadows of distress
and drapes them in the dark?

Have you seen beyond the flattery
and honeyed words received?
The deafening silence, loneliness,
and bitterness that seethes?
Have you ever tread the devil snake
who's writhing in despair,
beneath your heel of saintliness
and crying out for air?

Do you stop to wonder
how your shine precedes their thunder?
That when the stars align for you
their heavens burst asunder?
Or is the approbation
a buoyant buffer zone;
too distant although within reach;
too different dialects they speak;
one landscape lush the other's bleak?
Your throne fashioned from bone.

These gusts of laud which loft you up
buffet them tirelessly...
This windswept lonely moorland soul
erodes to steep ravine.
Have you ever been with someone;
someone who must pretend?
Who's never felt like they belong
to this world you're living in?

Have you noticed how you shine
is matched by how they gloom?
How what you celebrate as life,
to them is but a tomb? And,
how the love that you attract
contributes to their wounds?

Perhaps some day they'll change their tune.
Perhaps the tables turn.
But, for now the fable's writ is such:
one's quenched while one must burn.

Sunday, August 30, 2015

On Dissatisfaction (Revisited)

Before a person can address what
lurks in the darkness it must be
drawn out in to the light.
I feel so lost, so sad. I want to be everywhere at once. Like whatever bits and pieces of energy I am made up of are trying to break free of my flesh and bone. They want to scatter. Some want to wander so to explore the world of the senses. Others no longer wish to exist in their current state. Others want to indulge in carnal desire. Others still, are attracted to the energy that other people are comprised of; some of my little bits and pieces want to know what it would be like to be with them; emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually intimate with them. All of these bits and pieces jostle about within me like water molecules in the boiling cauldron of my body which selfishly confines them; separates them from those to which they might have previously been joined.

I feel their attraction. It is an undeniable magnetism. It is a sense of familiarity. And yet I am forced to restrict their union. I am bound by principles and the inanity of what I adhere to. My very being cries out from within the confines of this prison. I am afraid. I wish to shuffle off this mortal coil, only because I am dissatisfied with my incompetent discernment. “Be a good father.” “Be a good man.” “Be a good husband.” “Be a good son.” “Be a good friend.” And though I try, I find myself increasingly disgusted by these things and the people that depend on my being them. I try to be for the sake of others having forsaken my fulfillment all the while. I look upon those I seek to please with disdain and resentment. As time passes it becomes more difficult to veil my scorn. I am exhausted of the energy it has taken to be who they need at the expense of not being as I’m intended or feel. I subdue the very bits and pieces that make me who I am. I sublimate my eccentricities and sexuality into behaving appropriately. I now fear that part of me that I’ve come to believe is uncivilized. That part of me that will not go away. The part that I’ve been falsely convinced should not be there. I do not recognize myself and have become self-loathing. I am unfamiliar with myself because I have spent so much time and energy on trying to better it. To better myself? The very thought suggests that I’ve never been good enough to begin with. What a terrible thought to have entertained for as long as I have.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Michael Joseph Christopher Kraesig (5/9/79 - 3/31/15)

Waves of anger, remorse, resentment, sorrow, longing, and laughter. I can't stop crying. Crying, sleeping, and staring blankly in to space. Bargaining with and railing against fate. Trying so hard to remember. Sometimes it comes easy. The sound of your laughter over and over again in my head. Our awkward but comforting hugs and "I love yous". Well, awkward for you. I like to think comforting to us both. You'd occasionally hold on slightly longer than expected - but only until you'd become aware that it was you, not me...a welcomed tell. I think to myself that I shouldn't have ever said "goodbye", as though it would have made a difference in this instance. Please, Mikey... Just one more climb over Grandma Lee's wall, let's build one more bow-and-arrow out of her scrap wood, one last gokart ride, UTC?, Fashion Valley? Mission Valley?, let's harass Freeway & Frankie, sneak a peek at Uncle Doug's hidden stash of girlie magazines, one more splash in the jacuzzi, one more trip to the Hilltop 7-Eleven and Plaza Bonita with Grandma Lee, one more movie, one more video game, one more bit torrent, one more Comic Con, one more baseball card collection, one more firework show, one more round of catch, one more road trip, roller hockey?, basketball?, foosball?, song?, mixtape?, one more night of laughs with the C.B.?, one last milk & coffee ice cream?, how about the Crypt Keeper?, mIRC, AOL, Criterion Collections, water balloon wars, Motorola picnics, Top Gun & the Blue Angels, Excalibur & Luxor, Wild Rivers, Knott's, Disneyland, Magic Mountain (Oh, how I loathed that place and you and Uncle Doug's heckling), SeaWorld, the Zoo & Wild Animal Park, Balboa Park, Mt. Soledad, The Shores, Torrey Pines, Coronado, the ferry, the piers, the bay, boogie boarding, Grandma Ruth's, Grandma Lee's bakery/restaurant, remember 1988 walking around Chula Vista mall with the boombox on your shoulder "bumping" 'Tenderoni', Biz Markie, EPMD, N.W.A., Public Enemy, 'Summertime', Cindy & Laura's, so much music, the food, the fun, IB, OB, MB, PB, one last hike, one more pint, one more fishing trip, one last send, just one more argument, one last show, one last shroom, one more tab, one more "edible", one more burn, just one walk, one last talk, one more jog, one more board game, one more cry, one last laugh, one last sleep-over, a photograph...something...anything. God damn it, Mikey!!! Everything in San Diego reminds me of whole life reminds me of you...

Friday, July 31, 2015

On Honesty and Offense

For me, to live conscionably and unapologetically is to live honestly; to be oneself without pretense. But many of us project a false self due to the fear of being spurned. We'd rather be accepted for who we aren't than risk the rejection of who we genuinely are. We filter or censor parts of who we are so to comply with the standards of those we choose to have relationships with. It is an exhausting and impossible task as offense seems to be characteristic of interpersonal relationships, particularly open and honest ones. It is merely a fact of life. The reality is that I can never be freely and fully myself without the likelihood of friction, disagreement, and misunderstanding - principles will collide.

Many of us romanticize such a virtue as acceptance but find ourselves intolerant in our routine dealings with one another. Where I may say, "I am sharing my sincere self!" Another will assuredly respond from time-to-time, "But I'd prefer that you did so according to my understanding of decorum." Oddly enough, both parties are welcoming each other. Although they are both engaged in sharing exactly what it is they feel - inviting the other in - the occasional offense will arise. Blogger, magentamirror, posted, "I share with you a piece of my life and you think I am evaluating you, criticizing you, comparing you to others, rejecting you . . .And yet, all the while, I am welcoming you." What she perceived as an act of honesty and vulnerability was in turn perceived as an offensive slight. She goes on to point out the following:

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Poetry: 'Frail'

Where one and one are one. From where all and none have gone.
Where all share the same sum
When dust from bone. And sand from stone.
From water born; no life alone
Where wind is blown.
And warmth arise to lighten skies
New day. New birth to be.

With infant eyes at each sunrise
A different world to see; new opportunity
Where all are friend to me. From Love sprouts honesty.
An I with which to see the lies belies derived belief
To heal and mend. No more pretend.
This I reveals, beyond the bend, how Fear relies on We

Here now, differences prevail. Where trust so oft' assailed.
Where Fear and Love decide our fate
Within the choices that we make.
This one, I sense, come give-or-take
Ever a fragile state.

Fragile II by Jiskah

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Poetry: 'I and Why'

There once was Why 'round every bend
This Why existed without friend
Its will to know insisted, growing with the thoughts enlisted
With every thought it entertained
Why thought it knew a lot
It came one day asking to play
And so I thought, "Why not?!"
"Why this?!" "Why that?!" "How come?!" - This Why was insecure;
Its knowing without cure; Unassured, this Why's endured
Its trek affords it little rest
So, why do I in it invest?
Is I or Why here at behest?
If I by Why than why am I?
"Oh, my..." Life's quite the quest (ion).