Showing posts from September, 2010

Dark Inventory Continued...

from the quiet whispers of exterior things
to the overwhelming echos of interior screams
your fantasy reveals itself in denial
when will Emerson’s call be enough
to break the bones of the gripping inner beast?
Where the liberator squares off with the tight,
suffocation of inside lust and gratification?
Where the small perception framing the scene
breaks loose and the sands settle...

Back to past to set the perfect tone. A series of desperate thoughts spewed on top of each other to make the paper seem alive. To find that lost will that may be alive somewhere. That true self that gave up a realization of premature meaning. Find your way back Derrick. Find your life square with existing sense. Your tears have fallen on the shoulders of those you embrace at a distance. When you reach for them with a crippled hand in search for answers of acceptance. Teach me! Teach me how to sit satisfied in a simple state of myself. My conflict rises again in a handful of pills.
The band plays on stage and the gir…

"god" or "gods" are a direct expression of us...not the other way around

At certain times, in certain moments, I feel the nostalgic pull of things prior. I clench and reveal who I am now with who I was preceding. I grow irritated in this distraction from the moment. I have grown tired in the banaustic monotony of repeating the same and expecting diffrent results. I move forward...
I become the moment in stead of waiting for its dictation. I express vocally, physically and in silent ponder all that is me....right now. All is fleeting and I find fortune in these shorter relations with others and have hope for the long lasting bonds, but never expect anything in any solidifying way. Absolutes are as perfect...never truly reached, not really truly existing outside of illusion, but must be used as our catalyst in strife.
I marvel at our human condition in such an awe-inspiring way now. I have a recognition of pride and happiness for myself and others that I never thought possible with the rueful conscienciousness of years of conditioning. I wip…