Heroes are
parched
for a good
story, searching for
the ending in a bleeding
sunset, while the
damsel in distress
is a prayer
the hero
will never pray.

We are the ruins of
our ancestors, and
because of that
it is sometimes hard
to feel
alive.

We cannot be taught to bury
time, but within us are
thousands upon thousands of stories
piled high like ruined castles
where we might find some magic
power
that comes close enough
to touching the sun without
an aftertaste of ash.

We could be eternal
if fate didn't rest in our
crumbling lungs. The stars in your
eyes will eventually turn to
dust, but know that right
now the imprints of
constellations on your skin
are the brightest object
in the night.

Every story ends and even
heroes die.

But know there's something divine
in the heart-palpitating chaos of
everlasting
stillness.

May
wild beauty
in these decaying
words
be what I leave behind.

No one person's personality is unique in any way.

If you've at some time been exposed to a television set, a film, a piece of music, a book, a magazine, or people in a closed environment, then you are not in any way, shape, or form an original person.


We are all just composites of the things we've come in contact with during our lives, we pick up the things we think we want, or need and apply them to ourselves, and sometimes it's a sham, and sometimes it feels real.

The only way to be original is to be put out of society the moment you're born, but even then you may take on the characteristics of the wildlife you come in contact with... so apparently you're ****** no matter what.

I suppose what makes a person unique is the way they mash up all the **** that they've been exposed to,
whether they do it in a somewhat original fashion, or if they do it in a way that is similar to those around them.

Societies fear those who do not take the path of least resistance, and those are the people we call "unique", "different", "ugly", "weird", "stupid", "genius", "freak", "amazing", "loser".

They're the attention getters, and those who seek to get attention.

The ones that take the easy road to be accepted, they're the one's outshined,
and they have to get revenge some way, why not talk ****?

I can say though, that I feel real, I don't feel like I'm putting up a front for anyone.
Most days I like who I am, most days I lie, most days I'm honest.

*Circa 2009

~~~

The unsung heroes
They work every day
Without complaint
At a job with low pay.

There are not many are out there
Who place their laurels
On the person who's right
But ends a quarrel.

It takes a person
Internally strong
To accept a defeat
And say they were wrong!

Those little things matter!
But don't get much ink
Like the husband who shaves
And cleans up the sink!

The mother who picks up
The toys from the stairs
The wife who cleans drains
And removes the hair.

The child who sees
That grandma is old
And therefore replaces
The toilet roll!

The boyfriend who remembers
The day of first date
A girl who pays dutch
To help out her mate.

Remember that you
Are needed and wanted!
So many small tasks
Are taken for granted.

At last the bell
Is taken and rung
For the persons who do this...

... *the heroes unsung.

I don't love them for a sacrificial demise.

They love and give
They live for those who need life
They sacrifice
They fill the needs they see
every day.

Not defined by their deaths,
but by giving their whole life

Three generations on a tailgate
Stretching out for our aching limbs' sake
Resting from work in the summer bake
Sipping slowly on a few Pepsi's
Wipe away the sweat so I can see
My heroes talking casually
We laughed and joked despite the hot sun
Work long, work hard but try to have fun
Life is as good as you make it, son

People claim that we are a puzzle piece
Looking for "the one" who fits us best

I think we, ourselves
are a puzzle, not one piece of a puzzle
But we ourselves,
are a designed problem
to be solved...

I think we, ourselves
are a puzzle, and every bit of memory
we have is a piece that makes us who we are
Either it's a vague happy recollection
Or sadness, madness
Or times of sorrow or loneliness
Every single piece is so very important
without them the puzzle wouldn't be complete
It makes us who we are,
as an individual...

Although ... in the end
there is a flaw,
we are made to never be completed
we are made to never find the last piece
As the piece itself has never been created...

At last, Some might say
that that flaw,
that missing piece,
is a blessing
why you might ask them...
they say that's what make us work harder
it gives us a goal
that's what drives us to do more
in this life we were given...

Many of us lost hope to find that last piece
Others are satisfied with what the accomplish
Some might even say they learned
to live without it... (it's part of our lives)
Others might find a piece that
doesn't fit but forced it to do so
THEN .... There are those who
are still up in the battlefield
looking for that one piece
that would never be found
but that doesn't bring them down
they find hope where others lost it
they find hope not only for themselves
but for the rest of us
And that's who we call true heroes
It's the fact that their desire to thrive
is strong enough to give hope to the rest of the world
Although, we call them
CRAZY
INSANE
OUTRAGEOUS
CREATURES
For they are my heroes...
as they keep failing
yet get back up
stronger that previously
they continuously
get stronger
and stronger
and **STRONGER

When the world turns upside down
Because of a computer virus
Who ya gonna call?
The magical IT department.

On horses of cabled veins
They charge to vanquish
The evil that lurks inside
The internet.

White flags blowing in the breeze
Always on hand and
Well educated
But miserable in their own way.