I´ve got to find new themes or something....

You´ve built yourself a pretty house
With Kings and Jacks and word of mouth
Who am I to expose your flaws
I´m just a Samson without a cause

I never vowed to never stop
until each tear stained card was dropped
and I could help you bear the pain
If i could bear to speak your name.

What can I say I can´t write my wrongs
I never trusted me. I wished you hadn´t so long.
The stars have not written a sonnet for me .
And I´m going to regret but not apologize.
the choices I´ve made with me will die.
And I´ll accept my fate so willingly.

Amazing Grace was quite a sound
Until you turned the words around
had me running every way
Afraid that I might die today

A million before me have heard the call
Who was I to let them fall.
How could i just turn my back
On miles and miles of well worn paths.

What can I say I can´t write my wrongs
I never trusted me. I wished you hadn´t so long.
The stars have not written a sonnet for me .
And I´m going to regret but not apologize.
the choices I´ve made with me will die.
and I´ll except my fate so willingly.

A tear. The blue. The Depth. The truth.
intertwined together in the soul of you.
I see salvation when you see the sky.
Through your faith I can cry.

They say you must look up to see.
But memories way my eyes so heavily.
if you thought I was damaged then, look at me now.

one hundred years and counting

so after much debating, I decided to post this online. mostly cuz im not sure anyone comes here anymore because i have been so unproductive. Exept Seth, but hes read this already.

New stuff to come I PROMISE.

It's been a long road
So tired and so old
I've battled upwards every mile
Its time to pass on this fight

My weary eyes can't see no more
What have these hands worked for?
I've lived so many years by now
I know when to put in the towel.

This life is only spending, giving more than I have.
Running at the pace, I know I won't be able to last.

So, as time passes on
Can I stand still?
I think I'm living
Something I can't feel
We can make it step by step walking with someone by our side
but all I"ve ever known were echoes from another time.
So if you let me back out of this show,
I promise not to bow before I go.

These curtains were made to close
We act but there's no show
Some come for the hour hands
I come for the second

Does it all mean nothing?
If you dont do something
Is this deck loaded
How can we know it
We talked about those secrets you share on your wedding day
We didn't talk of the secrets you share only with your grave

So as time goes on
Can I stand still?
I think I'm living
Something I can't feel
We can make it step by step walking with someone by our side
but all I"ve ever known were echoes from another time.
So if you let me back out of this show,
I promise not to bow before I go.

It's not to say its worthless and its not to say I'm through
I just cant keep on moving knowing I don't know the truth
It's not to say its over or that it could ever end
I'm just not sure how I'll make because this is all I am

So as time goes on
Can I stand still?
I think I'm living
Something I can't feel
We can make it step by step walking with someone by our side
but all I"ve ever known were echoes from another time.
So if you let me back out of this show,
I promise not to bow before I go.

The Next Stop

We were making progress quite nicely. Quite nicely in-fact, until now. The train, experiencing a bit of turbulence, possibly some animal on the tracks, had decided to stop. I was all too anxious to make it to my destination.

“What happened?” I asked, slightly perturbed.

“Nothing, just another poor soul who decided life just wasn’t worth it”

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, horrified.

“I know!” The man replied. “Isn’t it such an inconvenience? We could already be halfway to our end, if it wasn’t for that pitiful wretch.”

The man speaking to me was dressed quite nicely wearing a well fitted navy suit with grey pin stripes, a neatly pressed shirt, and brown leather shoes.

“Well, is he going to be okay?”

“He hopes he won’t. I do too. He’s damn near made us late for our destination. Such a shame. I hope he was at least successful. Most of them are.”

“How many are there?”

“Ah, so many! Who really cares though? The trains get most of them, and they are so easy to overlook. If you sit just right, and tilt your glass a certain way, and focus for a split second too long on the wine, you may not even notice the train hit anything it all. It really is a marvelously designed train. Honestly, that’s the way we like it. Not one stop till Kingdom come. Only this man must have been important. That’s the only reason they stop. The remains of the important are quite important indeed. Damn fool is going to make us late, though.”

“I don’t believe you!”

“It doesn’t really matter, you know. Like I said, you can just ignore them. Unless you’re unfortunate enough to hit a governor or celebrity or something. Last time I was on this train, we went the whole time hitting nothing but prostitutes and hobos. It was grand, it really was. We made not one stop from here to Seattle. “

“You can’t be serious. So many people offing themselves like that?”

“Yeah, they drop like flies really. Well, then again, that’s only those who feel they are important. They climb the highest mountains. Dressed all nice, in their Giorgio and Dolce. They put on their best perfume, fix their hair just right. Then as soon as the nearest jet flies by, down they jump right into the engines. For a split second they even feel uplifted, and stare down on the world in scorn, just as they did their entire life. They still think they’re better, I’d imagine. Right up until the point where they think no more. One little whoosh and just like that, they’re in. The blades spin, and the people pass on through. The passengers on the flight seldom notice unless just a bit of finely sewn pin striped polyester isn’t quite chopped up enough and it floats by their window. They don’t really mind though, they applaud their audacity. The poor rich people themselves, well they’re damn near ground to the finest of bits. Quite a precipitation they can cause! No one minds, though. Oddly enough, it’s decreasing the amount of acid rain. And really, the people on the ground are so busy planning their own funerals that they barely notice the red tint in the rain to follow the next day.”

“Even the rich want to die? Are they mad?”

“Well, they’re mainly lawyers. And CEO’s. It all depends with the lawyers, though. Some lawyers can’t bring themselves to climb that high; they were scared of liability issues and such. Other lawyers had to, because even with the trains, there are legal issues. They have to wait till just the right moment, because apparently there is a law somewhere that states the internal gears on the machine have to line up in just the right spot to be able to withstand such an obstacle. If they weren’t then your purgatory is ten years longer unless you paid a certain legal fee that most just pre-paid like a retainer. Really the fee could be waived though, as long as you were between six and seven feet and born between July of 69 and August of 73. It was a whole bunch of red tape and all for lawyers. Politicians are the worse for us, I suppose. So sticky they almost stuck the damn train to the tracks. But after a while they got smart and learned to bribe the conductors to go just a bit faster than they should around certain pre-agreed upon places. That took care of the problem.

“But why do so many people want to die?”

“That’s pointless really. Times just aren’t as fun as they use to be, and you can only be so thrilled before everything is dull, and really the only thing no one has experienced is the final check-out. Sometimes it takes a catalyst, something to convince them their life is just not worth living. Some people get their orders messed up in restaurants. Other people have a slight collision on the interstate. A few people just didn’t feel like going to work on a Monday. Suicide has become quite trendy. All the meds not working and what not, really it’s a million things.”

The lights in the train flickered a bit as we started up again.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” I scoffed. “People are just offing themselves left and right for things like that? No one stops them?”

“Why should they? I mean it is their life, who are we to tell them how, or whether, they should live it? For a few good years, people even treated death as a commodity. Bought and sold it like candy. A simple bullet to the head was the cheapest. But if you could afford enough, you could even get a whole firing squad. People started betting on death in the stock market once it went public. That didn’t last long, before it was condemned, and the next thing you know its prohibition all over again. Man, when the law forced death to hit the black market, it nearly caused three damn depressions. And what’s more people were left with their depressions, and no way to get rid of them unless they could pay the right ‘agents’. It was quite a tragedy.”

“No one stopped them?”

“Well preachers tried for a while. They’d yell at them and what not. They tried to scare them out of it using lots of fancy rhetoric, but in the end the people did what the people needed to do. One preacher followed a man out to the railroad tracks, tried to drag him off. He couldn’t quite get it out of his head that no matter what he said or did, nothing worked anymore, and he just had to let the state of things be the state of things. Well, sure enough, he got killed right along with the man. The church made him such a martyr you would have thought he was St. Peter or something.

“This is ridiculous. Doesn’t the government do anything to stop them?”

The government tried for a while. They made it to where you had to live till you were damn near a hundred, sick and all. You had to die on your own. That wasn’t working out with people at all. It’s all about power and control I guess. The government controlling their deaths but forcing them to keep their lives. That didn’t settle well with anyone, so they just settled themselves. Tried almost anything for a while. Heads in the oven, extension cords in the bathtub, those were the real cuckoos. They wanted secret ways of doing it, but you really can’t find anything that dignified that’s also that secretive. So finally people got fed up with it. They decided to do it all openly. Now it’s a matter of pride. The more flamboyant you can make your death, the better. One guy last year strapped himself to a train just right, so when he was ripped open, the fireworks he swallowed the day before would go off in a nice little blast. Really left us quite a light show. Of course the government found all kinds of violations with that, and they hauled his corpse up in the courtroom and tried him for it. In the end he was sentenced to five more years of life, so they sewed him up and resuscitated him. Now the government rarely interferes. Usually if they do, you can pay them enough money, for all the taxes you won’t be able to pay dead and all, and if you satisfy them, they can kindly forget you existed or that you are hauling your sad body down to the nearest tracks to wait for the next train out. Trains really are the best way to do it. And looking on the bright side, the government found it really did decrease the homeless population. The number of homeless people is now right around zero, and those are some pretty good statistics, you have to admit.”

“But what about the loss in population? The bodies?”

“Ah, no one really cares about the loss of the people. You can get more of those by the ten dozen these days. The bodies, well, the government for years has been putting a chemical in the food that makes us more decomposable. Works like a charm. People didn’t really notice. Complained that everything tasted like sulfur for a while, but before you know it, the sulfur was the new sage. Before that they tried to put scoops on the front of the trains, to kind of scoop up and throw the bodies into an open train car in the back. The only problem was they could never quite get the aim right. I remember one time a local mayor got busted for running a male prostitution ring. Kind of convinced him to bump up his travel reservations a few weeks earlier than he planned. Well he was wearing nothing but his scantily fitting laced lingerie and was scooped right on up and deposited at his daughter’s wedding the next town over. Landed rear first on the two foot tall wedding cake topper. That pretty much put an end to that idea. On the bright side, He really would have been late for the wedding if it wasn’t for the train, and everyone knows weddings are more enjoyable dead. Especially since his daughter was marrying a lawyer. Now no one really bothers with the bodies. Sometimes, they lay out padding on the sides of the track to catch them and try to harvest the organs. The organs go very well on the black market to be transplanted into our livestock.”

I felt a slight bump. I was too afraid to ask what it was. I was beginning to feel very sick.

“I need to get off soon. Really soon. I’m not feeling so well. How far are we from Albuquerque?”

“Doesn’t really matter, man. They aren’t going to stop. They make no stops really. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like we’re going anywhere, anyways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it has gotten so problematic that the government now assumes everyone wants to die. They’ve started using trains as mass vehicles to fulfill people’s wishes. They removed a part of the track up ahead. Experts say it will be quick and painless. Might even be a bit fun. They promised us all the loud music and light shows they can spare.”

“What? Are you kidding me? And you are okay with this?”

“Sure man, I mean everyone else is doing it, and even if I don’t want to die right now, I know I may want to die eventually, so it really is not an inconvenience at all. In a way, I got lucky. I ended up on the train that gave me what I’ll probably want later, right now. It’s sort of like I won the lottery.”

“You’re crazy! There’s no way I can go through with this. I’m getting off. I’m getting off of this train.”

I smashed a window and jumped out, as a crowd gathered around the window and stared in a very confused horror.

“That idiot!” said the man in the finely pressed suit. “No one ever does it like that. There’s no fun in that at all. If he’d have only waited about ten minutes…”

The crowd murmured their disapproval, nodded in agreement, and went back to drinking their champagne.

When I awoke, I felt very small, and I was lying in a clear glass bed of some sorts. I was outside at some sort of boarding station and I saw lots of people who were joyfully chatting away. There were babies in little cribs all around me being pushed up a ramp and into the door of a train car. I began to move. As I looked down I saw a pair of finely pressed navy slacks with thin gray stripes leading to down to exquisite leather shoes.

I'm going to hell....

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Extreme
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

You. Paralyzed.

I'm still laying here. Still. It went off an hour ago.
But it can't make me move.
You know, if you lay here long enough, you begin to shrink. Ever so slowly. Getting smaller.
The ceiling fan will get bigger. Everyone knows that.
But you can't make me move.
I'm stuck here of my own accord, weighted down.
I couldn't move if i wanted to, but I don't.
I can't make me move.
You can't make me move either.

You can't make me walk through the walls and get out. The walls are my friends, and I won't move. Maybe if I shrink small enough, I could slip through the cracks in the floor.
The walls wouldn't notice me and feel betrayed by the cracks they made pulling away from me.
maybe they would still be harmonious.
And I would still lay here.

Maybe if the room wasn't spinning.
(Did I push the walls away?)
Everyone knows the room will spin.
as you get smaller. Everyone knows and I could tell you.
But you can't make me talk.


I could be in front of the mirror not knowing how I got there or the roof could be taunting me with what I hate.
You see yourself there. Reflected back so shabbily.
At least the mirror can't see the truth.
Something's thinner today.
Something is missing, something you've lost.
Probably nothing you ever had in the first place.


I stand in front of the toilet. Still, I stand.
It does not.
It takes the worse of me, if I choose to let go. But I yield nothing and it gets nothing.
I stand. frozen.
Nothing happens.
It stays bottled up inside me. Burning filth of me.
I can't let it out.
It hurts.
The hole awaits, but nothing comes.
I worked to fill me up, I can't let it go.


I lay here still. I lay here.
You can't make me move, and I haven't.
The room spins and I don't mind.
If I pretend to close my eyes I don't have to let the roof know I see its scathing indictment.
I don't have to face it.
And I can let the walls be, if they are my only friend. I can let them pull away of course. I won't walk through.
I lay here.
The cracks are pretty silent when I pretend to ignore their beckoning. They are satisfied to be in league with the walls in league with the roof in league with the ceiling fan. I still lay here.
You can't make me move.
I'm still shrinking. You don't notice. I don't mind.
One day I will be small enough. Then you'll see. No walls, cracks, ceilings, or fans will be able to keep me here, lying here, waited down. here.
If you are that small, they can't see you. They don't care. So I lay here. So small.
I move with the room, spinning so freely. I spin too, with the room.
The room spins around me and not with me as I spin with the room as it slowly flushes down the drain what it has been asked to hold.

Have you ever been at a point where you realize you have so much inside of you that needs to come out. So much you need to say. But you feel that you seriously lack the creativity required to fully express and give justice to it. Have you ever just felt like you lacked in anything or everything? Have you ever looked around, realized life was great, but something you couldn't place just really isn't right, and still you are unable to say anything? And have you ever realized that all the good in life is just a product of, a reaction to the bad? And that good itself fuels evil. If nothing else they are relative to each other and you cannot know one without another, but I am quite convinced they are interconnected, at work together yet so very different.
Have you ever looked up and realized you are not at all what you wanted to be when you reached this point in life?

And that when you type it is all rambling that sounds overdramatic because nothing really justifies any of the words that come out?

I think you guys should check out Dreaming Out Loud by OneRepublic. It is amazing. The best tracks are by far All we are, All Fall Down, Prodigal, and the original version of apologize before Timbaland. Right now, though, I am listenging to Urban Hymns by the Verve. It has a strang effect on me. It is the best cd that I have ever ignored.

Well, i have to work on my resume. Strange in itself. I always feel awkward talking about myself. But I need $$$ the root of all.... life.
Adios.

So hey guys. I wrote this a while back and in my head it was a song, and I tried to "poemize" it and ended up messing up rhythm and stuff, and I know it's not the best, but if yall could give me some tips, I would be more than greatful. I need some honest, critical feedback. I haven't written in a while, and it is increasingly difficult to write down the mess in my head. But I've tried. Let me know what you think.

This house just looks so empty
this air just feels so cold.
I’m looking for our mabye
Where have the small words gone

Forward in Time.

What I wanted I fought for it.
Now it seems I have it.
So why did I sell it so cheap.
Just to make a habit.

That’s my life.

She said have you ever felt
How it feels to pull your world down
To watch it crash around you
To watch yourself drown

Does it feel Fine?

I saw a man in my street
Trying to beat the system
With a bottle in his hand
Looking for change in the cushion of life

Should he even try?

I vowed to tell his story
everywhere that I go.
Til I understand what I’ve seen.
Til I know what I know.

And what it means.

Youre tracing with your fingers
every line on my face.
So you won’t forget (You can’t forget
The pain I’ve caused this place)

I just can’t think.

At the end of the day,
I only have one question.
Am I happy, was it worth it,
Would I do it again?

We will soon see.

With teary eyes she pointed out
There’s still something normal in the twisted,
With a far away look
Something good even in the wicked.

What does it mean?

.