half of you remember cd’s
and half of you don’t
either way,
here it goes;

back then, I was living under rules so strict
it was almost impossible for someone to live.

no matter how much I tried to hide
or stay out of the way,
and no matter how much I tried to help out
and do my part;

I could never meet their standards.

what was good was never acknowledged
and what was bad was over-exaggerated.

basic existence was a crime
and the consequence was
always a long and
drawn-out
lecture

and as unsettling as
the home life was
I had my car,
the outside world,
and the hunger for
mischievous adventure.

and so, staying at home
was the last of my options
as I ventured out with no plan in mind
and a whole lot of time on my hands.

now, someone could easily get bored
with this formula;
I mean, you only could go out
to eat three times a day,
you could only visit friends
when they were around
and going shopping
was only a temporary fix
if you had money to burn
but this formula could also
be very interesting
if you’re creative enough
and you had
the knack,
the niche,
the crave
for something.

and so, I found myself traveling
to A LOT of local record stores.
I didn’t care how far away they were,
as long as it was reasonable within
the vicinity, if I knew about it,
I was there: Kiss The Sky,
Rediscovered Records,
Record Breakers,
etc., etc., etc.

I was always on the hunt for something obscure,
something no one else had and to me, it was like
gem or a hidden treasure I had unearthed upon the world.

my fixation for music was growing
as mammoth as the variety in my
cd collection.

music was becoming the sole foundation
to the underpinnings of my necessity:
it’s what kept me alive, out of trouble,
it was there when friends were not,
it fulfilled those empty spaces
it quenched my thirst for
wanting something more out of life.

I spent most of time, driving around, popping in one cd,
listening to each note, each lyric from beginning to end
before switching it out for another.

Lee Ving, Richard Hell, Darby Crash, Henry Rollins
all spoke out to me more with one verse
than all those lectures I had endured
from my patriarchs.

my cd book had become quite impressive
to my other bevy of like-minded friends.

and then it was stolen.

which crushed me.
but what’s done was done and
I had to move on, rebuild

and at seventeen dollars a pop,
my bank account was diminishing quite rapidly
as I tried to gain back what was rightfully mine.

I dreamt about becoming a thief
or a drug dealer to support my
addiction to music.

but not long after,
I had built a body of music
more vigorous with stout
than its previous
ancestor.

of course, there were a few gems
I still haven’t recovered
to this day from that incident
but thats beside the point.

the point is,
my folks may have incarcerated
my soul with diction and delivery
while they hid for themselves
in the oratory of delusion,

but
music was always there;
it was alive
it ran through me
it tickled my spirit
it shook my emotions
it boosted my endorphins
it got me pumped, it got me ready
for whatever life was gonna throw at me,
to face the cliche and to face repercussions,
I knew it was going to be ok as long as there was music
to fiddle with my nerves and provide comfort within my heart.

He lived a life so bright, so free,
With endless joy, with endless harmony.
A dream of bliss, a golden scene,
A life as perfect, as it’s been.

But came a devil, cunning and sly,
A tempting deal caught his eye.
With terms spoken, glorious allure,
He signed away, a heart impure.
A parasite was born that day,
Hidden deep, it made its stay.

At first, the deal seemed grand—
No worries bound by life's demands.
He laughed, he lived, unburdened, wild,
No truths defiled, no haunted fear—
No… the cat’s here, and the bag’s there
The parasite emerged, so clearly.

The friends he cherished, walked away,
The bond was broken, cold as clay.
He called, he cried, sought hearts to mend,
But none could bear what he’d defend.
For every plea, they turned, ignored—
The parasite they all abhorred.

He tries it all, to break away,
To cure the curse, to **** the stay.
He runs, he hides, for the devil’s near,
But still, the devil’s laugh he hears.
“For what a fool, you truly are,
For fleeting joy, went so far—
Your life now, a pure despair,
The parasite, now’s your attire.”

Even as he dies, even as he rots,
The parasite bellows off him a lot,
As it reminds the world of what he is,
And the world just spits on him,
The cost of joy paid recklessly.

I knew someone,
As far as I knew.
Knew him till none,
But my love was true.

He had humour, he was silly,
He was like me; he was just me.
We shared our joys, shared our sorrows,
We had our today, dreamt of tomorrows.

But then, I saw the lies,
They pierced my heart like knives.
I hated him more each day,
I wished he’d go away.

His presence haunted me,
His guilt engulfed me.
He needs to go, go far,
But he can’t leave,
I am him.

Standing on the edge,
Step on the ledge,
Leaned to the front,
Skipped to the front,
Falling from the sky,
Falling onto die.

As I fell down, I realised,
He is human, he can change,
Maybe he can heal himself,
Maybe I would love him, again.
But as I fell down, I realised,
All that gone now, all in vain
And we laid down, with no pain.

I've been running consistently to getting somewhere
And in this moment right here my soul couldn't care
About all the dreams or the scars or wishes
I've been planning to go through, for my body leaves
The sense of reality under the gravity
Of my own pressures and judgements, projections
Of being imperfect, these self-rejections
Disguised as ambitions
Couldn't fool any soul that they are soul missions

I've been running and bleeding and I'm tired of feeling
That I am constantly in need of some divine healing
Healing is not becoming someone you're not
But accepting yourself as you are, the whole lot
The shadows, the wounds and the darkness of past
The ways that you cling still to what did not last
The ways that you think endlessly into void
And the way that you let your thoughts steal the joy

Of being right here, nothing else to avoid,
Just being yourself, it's not to control
The ways you exist or defining your role
Into this life in such perfect ammounts
That things old as faith and as grace simply counts
To nothing

Cause I'll tell you, you're something
That could never be perfect, for you can't be a concept
But when you look at the rain or the sea, anything
That nature has brought into this here existence
When has the mind ever had the persistance
Or the ***** to say something as perverted,
As : "that is not perfect, it's not in control,
Of it's own fate or soul, there is too much flow
It's allowing itself to go with, it must be tormented "

For existence was always meant to be accepted
As a jellyfish accepted the tide or a leaf in the wind accepting a ride
Life never happened by action, it just was allowed
To come into being by the one who is proud
To exist as he is, silent or loud
Or however it felt called up on the mount
Of his body or shape, incarnation or being
Regardless of pain, imperfection or grieving

Things such as healing or letting go of control
Were never intended to torment the soul
Into changing what happened or what it desires
What it feels that should be or the band and the choires
It hears, but instead, it was meant to accept
What exists as it is in the now, it's direct
And it's grounding and kind and just this moment
Can bring an end to the winter that stood
In your door and your house when you said that life should
Be different somehow in the way that it goes
But you cannot decide nor the waves nor the flows
Of the ocean, the wind or the boat you are rowing
But just the direction you decide it's worth going


So if you ever have wished for a different ending,
Know that it's here, and it starts with accepting
That life is not made for the ways of expecting
But for trust and for faith in this neverending
Journey of life and this always changing
Existence you are, it's about surrendering

To who you are and the present you're living
And about the love you're allowing and giving
Yourself when you start being here and receiving
All that's been waiting for you to start feeling
Worthy of living.

_M.

The fields of gold—
Looking grave
as past faces
caught up quickly,
smothering any presence
with smoldering reminders.

Alas, the echelons of memories
stood tall, like soldiers
steadfast, unwavering
to the imminent fall.

They remind him of his reflection,
belabored by reality’s labor.
Lines buried in sand,
etched onto his head—
burning coals of souls
that throttle his legs into motion.

He runs, and runs,
coerced to send the sun
his kinetic aspirations,
to deflect and reflect,
to dissolve prophecies beleaguered.

For it is he
who devises the Devil
of his own doing.

Waves welcomes the moon.
Hues of the dusk moves down the horizon.
I sat there, feet deep in sand
watching people escape with the tide
only to be pulled back into their prosaic life.

As i feel the sand around my feet
i wish i could embed my roots and
grow here once again as a plant,
leaving everything behind.

As the urge to swim toward
the other side gets stronger
i pull my feet up from the ground
and walk away as the street lights bloom.

It was only last October
When you finally swept away
Any traces of our friendship
And you buried its remains

It triggered my escapism
So I could hide from nights of pain
I did not make the best decisions
But at least I was okay

I was reliant on the meds
So I would never have to face
The truth about our friendship
That was so clearly a mistake

And when you left for Houston,
It was then when I would break
I could not accept my reality
Which was keeping me awake

And the park where we would play
To pretend that we were eight
We knew we looked like idiots
But together, we were safe

But I realized I was in captivity
From the memories of that place
I was interrogated by inner demons
And I found myself in chains

So that ship has finally sailed
Her cruise had left today
People move on and priorities change...


When you wish they'd stay the same.

Heaven forbid
I should live in the ******* moment.
Heaven forbid
I should feel without obstacle.
Heaven forbid
I should kiss you, here and now.
Heaven forbid
I should step outside of my box of worries.
Heaven forbid!