I'm tired of being told what to believe in, and what matters in life. Constant bombardment of stimuli, telling me what makes an artist, what good art is, who to elect, what to wear, what cause to take up. I already have my 20/20 vision, had it checked, verified, took it beyond the threshold and came back sans t-shirt. I don't need someone giving me the play by play 24/7 when I can already see this world, unfiltered and pure as it is. I could mystify this sentiment further by adding in abstractions and platitudes signifying nothing, but I don't feel the need for my catharsis to waste anyone's time. You don't need me giving you advice anymore than I need advice or commentary. I don't need backseat drivers or neologistic buzzwords and fortune cookie wisdom shoved down my throat to taste comprehension. I know what I want. I'm not ashamed of that. I grew up knowing only self doubt, and it would appear the Millennial M.O. is to float through life praising the "art" of self doubt. As if it is something worthy of praise to be crushed externally and internally, instead of working towards bolstering from within. With the chaos of the modern era, systemic inequity, and politics as a fashion statement, I keep my inclinations for the most part buried until my voice reaches beyond masturbatory passive aggressive self aggrandizement. It is hip to give a **** But that's the problem. Giving a **** has been reduced to a fashion statement, it's how we decide who we let in, who we talk to, who we **** who we praise. If you keep up the right front you can make superficial fair-weather friends do for you. Therein lies an acquiescence to societal woes and whims that counter-cultural kids always know exists in the back of their minds with a beleaguered smirk and a reminder to themselves that they're really just playing the part as they clock in to their jobs and message their friends about anarchy. It's all a big game, depending on who you are determining what kind of game it is. Some people play the lottery and leave their existence up to chance because it's all they know. Some people play a mean game of poker and act like they've got enough ability to bluff their way through this knowing they've got nothing stacked. My game is chess. I don't tell anyone what moves I'm planning, but I'm five moves ahead and I'm aiming to topple **** I have to, it's the only thing that drives me, keeps me motivated. Self doubt is praised as a tool to spur on growth. I don't need to doubt myself in order to grow, I have had enough people doing that for me. Until I reach a precipice, until I have unmade myself and pushed beyond what anyone, (myself included) deems me capable of, I am an unreliable narrator, and my voice will carry no weight.
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC
Stone faced destruction, a craft in a void
What does it matter if it can never be created or destroyed?
Event horizon guide me, living got you annoyed?
Like an atom we split, and through the dirt that we sift
Seeds of conditional omission baring down for the drift
Intentions spread on the wind, now bereft of the wit
Scattershot the lot and hold me down with the gift
If I'm breathing you'll see me believing in my condition
No bereaving is needed when I have made my decision
It's not a death of the ego; why it's a call to confirm it
Leave your name at the tone, and I will prove I deserve it
Message, misinterpreted, deterred but I'm building
I hit the chisel to my brain, I carved the marker I'm gilding
I knew that no seed would grow until the weeds had been slain
Now every moment I'm living converting power from pain
As I can offer no service, until I have made myself work
So I have left from the room, where all the chatter continues
to plant myself in the dirt, so I replenish my sinews
Confusing my silence for inaction on a whim could prove deadly
I'm stacking my arsenal, stick around for the medley.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
With a whirlpool of intentions and a focus greatly skewed
My declaration of disdain with my voice has this imbued:
Having ****** into the chaos of a modern need for thriving
With a trust that all my actions give me credit for surviving
Don't ask me for my progress, as I doubt you want to hear it
You've picked out your priority, yet contention makes you fear it
Bursted bubbles of illusion gave you free fall to the curse
of scatter plots for your design as you could only make it worse
Pick apart and yes unravel every thought you've come across
Shifted eyes upon the prize has darted off and at a loss
Identity has forced my hand to cry out for the masses
But contrivances you understand are killing off our chances
Everyone is sure and no one seems to quite grasp the fact
That catharsis marks a farce as art and we're all caught up in the act
Set the stage, turn the page, start from the top, we know it's crucial
Knowing meaning is a feeling, but the feeling it seems is mutual
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
Shouts out to the post modern ironic twisted ***** of confusion making sense of a chaotic existence
Shouts out the the same folks for laughing at their own struggle
Shouts out to the bleeding hearts
Shouts out to the dried up stones
Shouts out to the snarky *** momentary breaks from the void that they carry alone
Shouts out to the religious castaways, to the tradition breakers
Shouts out to the tradition keepers, and the self evaluators
Shouts out to the pathfinders and the trailblazers
Shouts out to the lack of motivation and the desire to be admired
Shouts out to mania driven fervor satiated not even by approval
Shouts out to calculated efforts and spontaneity as a ruse
Shouts out to reused tropes and cliches strung together again and again in different orders
Shouts out to all living as peninsulas, carving themselves off as islands.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
You want true expression, and true honesty
Or so you claim
You don't want the heat that comes with a call for the flame
You don't want to be enveloped in the purity of anyone
I hear you ask for honesty, and I know you don't want it
You want facsimiles, you want approximations, but truth is not for you
We have ego strokes, crutches, blinders, confused priorities
We have people set in their ways, and idealists lacking perspective
I want truth, I want life to blossom unfiltered, raw, and untouched
But if we can't even agree on medicines for diseases
If we can't even agree on who to let live
who to nurture
what to be upset about
Who to feed
When the answers are clearly spelled out
How do you expect me to feel like you even want truth?
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
(Verse 1)
Still frames enclosing every motion for the long run
Rough pages: unsure if you'll see me on the last one
At this stage, I'm holding out for roles that fit my marker
In this age, I'm shining on, tones all around grow darker
(Prechorus)
Lights! Camera! Action! Let's roll!
Into the Unknown we will go!
(Chorus)
I hope it falls in line with all of my timing:
Cue Sequence, set the credits on a roll.
I'm magnified but living as a symptom of Social Control.
Breathe it in, it's only beginning, the showcase still unfolding.
Breathe it out your doubt, though it's rough keep going...
Verse 2
Set change, impulses that I knew I couldn't run from
Rough takes, I'm choosing which I'll keep until the last run
With this scene, I'm proving to myself that it's all worth it
With this dream, I'm finding out my theme is how I earn it
(Prechorus)
Lights! Camera! Action! Let's roll!
Into the Unknown we will go!
(Chorus)
I hope it falls in line with all of my timing:
Cue Sequence, set the credits on a roll.
I'm magnified but living as a symptom of Social Control.
Breathe it in, it's only beginning, the showcase still unfolding.
Breathe it out your doubt, though it's rough keep going...
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
Ebola Sars and *** sounds like a big deal to me
Isis recruits Australians, Russia bombs Ukrainians
Economic bubble crash is starting to give me a rash
Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad
Hyper fervent slactivism causing me a social schism
Picking up the pieces of a shattered governmental system
Cliches of a topic piled up into a rhyming pattern
Pundits pumping such hot air they might as well just move to Saturn
Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad
Post Modern kids all broke it down as something they could
deconstruct
Idealists will polish turds, while cynics just don't give a ****
Focus on your social status, eating healthy, getting hotter
Better drink my own **** cause we're quickly running out of water
Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
When you asked me to prove if you're safe with me:
You're asking me to be the airplane and the parachute, as well as your jump partner
You're asking me to dive down and explore your depths while I'm covered in waste and hoping I don't mess up the place
You're asking me to drive through lightning storms to Reno and be assured neither of us will lose on the poker table waiting at the end of the overpass
You're asking me to hold you so close the pressure cauterizes open wounds where our hearts keep falling out, and hoping I won't stain your clothes
You're asking a controlled fire not to burn too hot for fear of hurting your eyes
You're asking for poison and antidote to mix without either being diluted.
I'm going to need your help.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
Self Righteous indignation, separation, and a flare for othering
the man who strove to bridge the gap between himself and the world
made himself an island to be safe from the chaotic trade winds
Here, he felt, hell, he felt stronger than he was accustomed to
but this only tempered his approach
kept his destructive tendencies at bay
and filled his time
His ennui and his thirst for consequence
His self deprecation, his lust for power, his empathy unbidden
He knew of his own privilege, he knew other's pain was greater than his
He knew other's success, and had tasted glory in doses unsatisfying
He was meant to be satisfied with stagnation
and was tailored to disapprove of the play by play
but was forced to place bets on the rat race
and to have his mind occupied by symbolism
while he realized the cross was only two lines placed adjacently
He was forced to explain to his lover, what love means, and how to believe
What it meant, how it was, and why it was held in such high regard
He comforted an ailing cherub, watered her roots with his own excretions
For in appeasing her, he cut into himself
All he wanted was to be big enough, to cut himself down enough
that when he gave of himself, he could give what would have been his all
while still holding on to what could be all he was.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
Stop (STOP)
and let your head talk
All I see is blocked
By the strictures and pictures of myself
(All is clear
Have no fear
Own Your Mind
Just this time)
(Oh) If it's a question of a doubt
There ain't a shadow thereabout
Fear is a Silhouette I found
Always behind me (Oh)
In My View Is All I Knew to Look For
Ascension trumps Deception
See the whole score
Dropped (Off) from the post hoc
All I need is bound
By the strictures, and pictures of myself
Drop off from the post hoc
Stop stop, let your head talk
No blocks, of this I sought
One shot, and eyes on the clock (We go)
Drop off from the post hoc
Stop stop, let your head talk
No blocks, of this I sought
One shot, and eyes on the clock
(Oh) If it's a question of a doubt
There ain't a shadow thereabout
Fear is a Silhouette I found
Always behind me (Oh)
In My View Is All I Knew to Look For
Ascension trumps Deception
See the whole score
Own Your Mind
Just this time.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC