Those that strive their whole life to be remembered, forget themselves in the process.

-Hadrian Veska

I bought myself a gun today.
I’ll give you a moment to process the mental paper work.
Is he serious?
Is this guy for real?
Is this a metaphor? Is it loaded?  

Are these questions
you might ask?
Isn’t this supposed to be a poem?

I said I bought myself a gun today.
Do you feel better?
Safer?
Do I
seem more dangerous?
Are my words more weighted now--
with violence?
with virility?
with *******?
Are you looking at my crotch
for an extra bulge?
How do you feel
about me now
knowing that I’m packing?

I bought myself a gun today,
And just like that
I’m a gangsta upholding the second amendment.
I’m a citizen of the constitution
holding up my right
to bear arms,
and raise my hand in a fist--
a fist, that’s gripped in tension
a fist that’s an extension
           of man and invention
           and I really should mention
          I can blow your ******* head off
          without the slightest intention.

I bought myself a gun today,
Are you scared:
that I don’t know how to use it?
That it might want to use me?
That I might become
overwrought with emotions,
and respond to an argument
“Arnold” style with, an,
   “I’ll be back?”--
that I might settle things
once and for all
with my noisy neighbor
in a language he might finally understand?
Are you scared?

I bought myself a gun today.
Does that make you worry?
You know what the statistics say,
That I have a better chance of shooting
myself,
than some intruder,
or mugger, or ******
or therapist even.
Are you worried about my self-destruction?
that I might I might accidentally
have an
accident?
Or, maybe, you may think,
that it might be on purpose?
that I might be singing
the, “Barrel-in-the-mouth blues?”--
not just fantasizing
about ‘em,
but singing ‘em with a with my mouth wide open,
and feeling them for real for real:
feeling the cold steel ‘cross
my tongue,
choking
on the taste of cordite,
really singing, “I can’t breathe,”
and how much
this ***** and having
the means to put and end to it all--
Are you worried about that?
If you are
then don’t,
‘cause I’m not thinking about that at all.

I bought myself a gun today.
Wouldn’t it be great
if we all could say:

I bought myself a gun today.

Dear Abba,
    
      To spiritually photoshop, or not to spiritually photoshop: that is a recurring question. I’ve gotten pretty good at cropping and resizing to keep an impressive façade, but the emptiness behind it is the telling thing, telling me that something about the life I’m living is off the tracks. I’m not the biggest fan of mirrors but I realize they do serve a purpose: showing me the reality, the real me. I’m a ragamuffin, always have been, and yet You love me, the real me. Amazing.

Whenever I lose the sense to believe.
I just look around at all the people who support and believe in me.
Strength not only comes from your heart, but also the hearts of those around you.

Every single tear of blood
        Cupped in Your scarred hands

Come walk with me not in the shadows of the dark
       come walk with me not in the light of the day
     come walk with me in the shoes of the Many so you can then see that evil isn't always in the poor ,
greed isn't always in the wealthy .
And selfishness isn't always in the rich.
      come walk with me and lets experience this journey together,
so you can also see that there's good, and bad, in every race ,color ,and Creed.
come walk with me .

Someone once asked me,
Where do you live?

Where do I live?
Do I live in a house?
A boat?
A tree?
A hole?

Moments later,
I looked up and directed them,
Turn around.
Walk 10 feet.
Turn right.
Run five miles straight.
Take a breath.
Search for a tree.
Climb it.
Take a bird's eye view.
Find the tallest object.
Run to it.
Touch it.
Come back here.

I asked,
Did you find my home?

They looked at me with utter confusion.
And I stared deadly into their conscious.
I said,
Look me deep in the eye,
Do you see a soul?
I used to live there,
But I lost it a long time ago.

-FJ