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My blog, where I store those thoughts rattling around my brain |
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Welcome to the insanity of my mind! Please excuse the cobwebs and clutter, I've been meaning to clean the place up a bit... Stop in and read some of my nonsense whenever the mood strikes you :) |
| Can you show me the beauty in acid rain? Caustic tears endlessly falling from dark, pitiless skies, creating deadly pools for any brave enough to swim. Help me shuffle onward, as the moisture eats my skin, peeling away fragile defenses, burrowing into a weary spirit too weak to stave off corruption. Take my weathered hand before it deteriorates entirely. Squeeze exposed muscles, so I might cherish fleeting warmth in these chilly bones of mine. Hold my withered form close, whisper in dissolving ears, before the storm washes away what little fragments remain. Promise that it wasn't all for nothing. |
Nena - Irgendwie, Irgendwo, Irgendwann  In the fall through space and time, towards infinity. Moths fly into the light, exactly like you and I. Give me your hand, I'll build you a castle from sand, Anyhow, anywhere, anytime. |
| Raydolph the red-nosed writer, Liked to make some shiny prose. But if you ever read it, You would say it makes you doze. All of the other writers, thought his talent was a shame. They never thought he'd make it, or get a decent chance at fame. Then one dreary Christmas Eve, Krampus came to say: "Raydolph with your twisted spite Won't you craft some dark delight?" Then how his fingers glided - dancing over laptop keys. Grinning like a wicked devil, For horror stories were a breeze. |
Love & Hate Standing now Calling all the people here to see the show Calling for my demons now to let me go I need something, give me something wonderful |
| Cloaked in furs against the chill A maiden starts her pilgrimage Shielding candle from the wind Vulnerable flame sputters Flickering yet resolute Burning defiantly in the darkness She stops before a balsam fir Branches laden with wax effigies Glowing dreams, torrid passion each gleaming among fragrant needles Illuminating the silent timber with a hopeful tapestry of light Placing her offering among them Stepping back to witness the sheen Pilgrim exhales with reverence Basking in luminescence Admiring brilliant luster From every walk of life Colors morph from yellow to green Flames crackle, sparks snap Greedily, the embers grow Blistering supporting twigs Ivory pillars begin to crumble Melting in the sudden heat Tearful maiden can only witness Unable to stop the conflagration All consuming in its fervor Listening to soft shrieks As the tree keens and withers Helpless against igneous assault Now the shrine has vanished Replaced by charred bark and soot Pale ashes tumble silently Ghosts drifting on icy breeze Wafting over a grieving woman Fading into the gathering shadows |
| Eyelashes flutter, blurred vision gradually coming into focus. My chest heaves. I wheeze, inhaling oxygen from my nasal cannula. There is nobody here with me. I am alone in this starkly lit room, filled with nothing but the cloying scent of disinfectant and the nonenal odor of decrepit life. And yet, I have company. Picture frames stand on my bedside table. I reach a wizened hand out, wrinkled palm snatching up a wooden square and pulling it towards my eroding eyesight. Frail fingers stroke the glass, resting on familiar faces captured on film, a window into a memory created several lifetimes ago. I was a different person then. Younger, arrogant, naive, full of piss and vinegar. Who would have thought I'd travel the world and visit old friends, hopping from country to country, states and counties, haunting their doorsteps with a cheeky grin? It was a pleasure to see them at long last. Finally, I could put usernames to faces, stories to their creators. I was just a side character in those rollicking tales of theirs, a traveler who went with the wind, carrying nothing but reflections and recollections, sharing contagious laughter and personal anecdotes. I ran my fingertips over those beaming countenances, silently naming each one. I missed them. Where were they now? Did they accomplish those goals, achieve the long dreamt victories we confessed? Are they doing the same thing as I? Sitting at the edge of existence, pondering a life well lived? Tenderly, I replaced the picture frame on my table. Several books lay scattered about, each with my name on them. I smiled, staring at the new editions and updated covers, remembering the days spent struggling over short stories and wondering if I'd ever finish a novel. If this is all I have during the end days, I will be content. For that is all I truly wish to achieve. Day 29: Imagine for a moment that you are near the end of your life. What do you want to have done that would make you feel satisfied? |
| Ah, I missed the previous day's prompt but I had most of this written so why not incorporate it into today's challenge? In terms of vague subjects, let's say that this one is... Power. Namely disingenuous societal power and the problems which arise from it. A few days ago, I saw a movie. It was an old one, filmed in the mid eighties and directed by a member of Monty Python. Brazil - an darkly humorous satire with a heavy dose of surrealism. While I was captivated by it, I confess it was an extremely painful viewing since the themes and biting commentary hit far too close to home. When it was over, I was left in shambles. He got so much right about the future. The twisted morality, the Orwellian surveillance, the police brutality, obsession with superficial appearances, the indifference to carnage and suffering, and so so much more. My head was spinning. I was trying so hard to keep up with the symbolism, the changing plots, the sheer genius of it all. The ending was the final gut punch. No spoilers here but I think that it was a haunting reflection of our times. This pandemic has really shone a spotlight on some of the worst human flaws. It's eye-opening to see the willfully ignorant, the egotistic mentalities, the stubbornness to admit the smallest of wrongs. While it is awful how people refuse to think of others, I can't say I'm surprised. This is a culture of outrage, anger over insignificant things, revealing a widespread contagion which rivals deadly viruses: insecurity. Are we really so soft and spoiled as a nation? Why can't we cover our faces with a piece of fabric? Do you think that you'll lose a chance meeting with your soulmate? Are you that self-absorbed that you can't shield your smoldering looks for a few minutes to get groceries? Ah, we get the complaints about BREATHING from people who smoke or vape, people who will gladly cough in the face of others, but aren't fearful of being put on a ventilator like so many others struggling for oxygen. What is a small inconvenience for the benefit of society? Yet they seriously compare face masks to corporal punishment, often bringing ridiculous similarities to a certain regime that sparked the second world war. Hyperbole is all that's used in rhetoric these days. In fact, I think that public discourse has coarsened and escalated to the degree where there is no middle ground, no mindful compromises. Everything is about extremes. The needle swings back and forth but never rests comfortably in the middle. The issue of someone refusing to comply with wearing a mask is unsurprising if considered from a psychological stand point. It is in our nature to rebel. We will poke, prod, explore and test the limits of the smallest rules we know. Why should it be any different for this one? But if we continue to be crabs in a bucket and prevent others from escaping this proverbial prison, the consequences for that short term satisfaction will be horrifying. I think that poor education, materialistic culture, and mental apathy have culminated in a toxic society of selfishness. We live in a capitalist era of maximizing profits over basic human needs, worshiping the almighty dollar and perpetuating the erosion of morals through corruption and wasteful consumption. It is a dreadful machine. Mammoth in size and beastly in nature. With a focus on greed and envy, is it any wonder that we have a narcissistic renaissance on our hands? What could have caused this? Surely not the celebrity worship, the inequality among classes, the insidious advertising, pushing carnal propaganda and concepts of attaining empty dreams? Why have we become simultaneously apathetic and outraged? It's exhausting. Please, I'd like one day without having to suffer the onslaught of human pettiness. So we numb ourselves to it. We hide away in our safe spaces, peaceful bubbles where we refuse to acknowledge the existential dread, the uncomfortable unspoken truths. Is it any wonder that drug use is at all time highs? That includes alcohol abuse, which is rampant. So what can we do with all this hopelessness? What optimism can we have in the face of insurmountable odds? To quote a certain character in Brazil: "We're all in this together." Whenever you can, do an act of random kindness. It costs you nothing but a little of your time and energy, but to make someone smile is priceless. Hold the door for someone who can't. Make someone's day with a few glowing words. Spread joy and warmth through spontaneity and sincerity. And not just because this is Christmas, do it all year round. We don't stop caring about our neighbors just because the TV stops telling us to. Let's come together and start healing as a people, instead of tearing each other down over and over ad nauseum. Can we at least try? Please, I'm begging you... |
| The darkest teachers I ever had weren't found in schools or universities. They didn't practice any formal education, couldn't lecture on complex themes and certainly had no idea what existed beyond their small corner of the universe. But what these people taught, they taught well. It's one thing to be book smart and intelligent, but that will only get you so far in a world of crumbling concrete and watchful eyes. What you need is cunning, savvy knowledge. How to walk, what to say, where to go, who to watch out for. But this all pales next to the most sinister language of all, the one spoken with wordless exchanges and furtive glances. Whispers done in private, chemicals dissolving on tongues, vaporized in smoke, injected in veins and falling into stupors as reality washes away and the blessed numbness returns with full force, just a little weaker than the last time. My shadowy guides led me where I could drown out the pain of existence. But they didn't warn me of hollow need that would replace it, emptying out all other emotions except for greed and sorrow. They showed me how to survive but not how to live. It isn't life. It's a wretched pilgrimage to the shrine of ecstasy, praying for sweet release and discovering it never lasts as long as you'd like and leaves you feeling twice as worse. Eventually the cycle was too much. The never ending spiral descended too deep, long past the point of no return. I didn't see anything in that abyss, no hope, no wishes, no comforting light at the end of the tunnel. I was alone with my thoughts. Used up. Worn out. Emotionally and physically exhausted, at the frayed end of my rope. All those teachers taught me was how to feed my demons, fueling self-hatred until it was too strong for me to overcome. So I didn't. If I was a star pupil, I wouldn't be here right now. I often wonder where that path would have led, what would have awaited me at the end of that journey. But this road took me here today and for that I am grateful. Blog Challenge Day 24: In a previous prompt, I asked you to write about your best, or favorite teacher. Tonight write about your darkest teacher. |
| 30 Day Blog Challenge Numero 23: In your blog today, tell us your favorite joke. It can be long, short, it does not matter. What makes this particular joke your favorite one? C'mon, show us your sense of humor! While I don't have a favorite joke, the humor that tickles my dark funny bone is definitely the morbid variety. Here's a few zingers that make me giggle. “If you think nobody cares about you, try missing a couple of payments.” – Steven Wright Don’t challenge Death to a pillow fight. Unless you’re prepared for the reaper cushions. Priest: “Do you have any last requests?” Murderer sitting in the electric chair: “Yes. Can you please hold my hand?” The doctor gave me one year to live, so I shot him. The judge gave me 15 years. Problem solved. You know, I'm not entirely sure why I have this warped sense of amusement. Guess it comes from my demented sensibilities? Ah well. Hope you found something in here to chuckle at. :) |
Mr. Rager  Knocked down, round for roundYou're feeling like you're shot down on the ground When will the fantasy end? When will the heaven begin? Yeah  |
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