I love listening to music so much.

I can’t clearly explain the sensation: sweeping waves of emotion cascade through my being. Delicately wiping away any negatively-charged flotsam that had been wading through my consciousness, music pervades.

Lucky are the few who live their life inundated with the languorous luxury of music’s embrace.

PROCRASTINATION
By
Joe McDonald

Part I:

How often can I keep putting off everything in life that must be done to the point of frustration and despair?  

How often will my work sit and stare at me with the eyes of hungry children always whining their demands for my attention to each task always wanting my full being beyond my own inner abilities and doubt?

How often can I walk past the damaged concrete step on my own house that sneers at me everyday as I walk up to my front door?

How often can I make promises to old friends to get together, celebrate life, and not expect them to wait on my return call of cancelation because of illusionary diseases?

How often can I feign in my backyard the beauty of my roses, sipping white grape while the grass under my bare feet remains brown, coarse, and over grown with dandelions stifling all vegetation?

How often can I pledge my good faith to a worthy cause by ending up watching from the back row as the needs prosper or fail regardless of my lack of motivation?

How often will constant kicking of the can down the yellow brick road be considered the excellence of a long line of Shakespearean resumes?

How often will my lack of courage blind me to opportunities of abundance and force my family to a life of stagnant economic asperity?

How often will I consent to others disrespect of my mastery of skills to the verge of closing my mind to all that is important to dwell in a soup of anger, self-doubts, and ache?

How often will the peeling paint, blistering off of my house like shards of cheese at my wedding feast, augment my anguished indifference finding every physical, spiritual, and any other of a multitude  of “…Why not’s…” festering in my dome of “..Do it tomorrow’s…”?

How often can I rattle my saber of position, roar my battle cry of “Tomorrow” to postpone today’s tasks? Bundling them all into neat piles of future promise completions. All the time smiling a grin of a used car salesman.


How often can I sit on my couch on sunny Saturday mornings enjoying the sun rise? Its beams slowly sliding across the finished oak; warming my unkempt hovel to the boiling point that tuffs of unwanted cat fur dancing over the varnished grain like tumbleweeds in a Sam Pechinpah film. Yet, I sip my morning brew, acknowledging their existence but, my head movies are of other unattended illusions.

How often can my inability to act or respond be accepted by those who expect perfection in all things?

How often can I permit the disappointment of a moment fire the indifference toward the needs of the here and now?

How often will my journey up my front walk be changed from the joy of daffodils and hyacinths filling the air with aromas of lung cleansing delights only to rediscover the pine foliage  are still dressed in the lights of Christmas past?

How often will I put off leading because of failure of seeing the needs of those who need leadership? They cry out for direction but, plead for independence. I use the pleas to drown out the cries.

How often will I have the epiphany of a lifetime only to have inaction and fear
drag it down to the bowels of an enlighten brain ****?



Part II:

I keep plugging in the mechanism of delay to power the animal of the moment.

I blind myself over and over and over and over again again again again to my abilities of now in favor of promises of later.

I smell success in the air every time I do the nows but, the stench of celebration’s to come is easer, sweater, more in line with who I am and not who I want to be.

I hear the praise and accolades of present victories and in time I’ll drag my triumphs out over the gravel road of time until they have lost their luster.

I’ll blindly stare at the tube of adult babysitting, at images of various eye candies trying to escape my own drive to do and yet failing in this as well.

I can’t spit out the bitter taste of the act of putting everything off nor drown it in the wine of determination without repeated reminder that I am drinking from the same cup of vintage to come.

I spend much needed dollars and valued hours gorging myself on self-help aids and assistance. Only they too become part of the beast’s feast of my misused time.

I awake every Monday with dreams of a new but, I’m so accessible to countless distractions. By Friday I face the inevitable doom of looking back over the landscape of a week gone up in the flames of the undone.

I try to grab each day by its throat. Choke out the desired results. Only it offers the slights resistance and I let it go to torment me from its lair growling “…not now, not now, not now…”

I’ll spend time with my mate for life. Half of me is relishing the moments with her. Half is wandering over the tablets of what I haven’t done.

I have mismanaged, misused, balled up, blundered, fouled up, mishandled, muddled, muffed, spoiled, and fumbled the footballs of my life again and again avoiding all that has to be done now driven farther down the boulevard. Constantly stopping at any insignificant store front; staring at juvenile trinkets of distraction.

I have sinned over and over again. I offer prayers to anyone who will listen. Begging for the enlightenment to solve my weakness. “… quia pecccavi nimis cogitatione verbo et in cogitations, et in hoc opera, quod ego facere non, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa…”



Part III:

Who else do I have to make suffer in confused patience waiting for the promised end results of my superficial excellence?

What has to be done to make me arise from the ash of self doubt, indecision, and fear to conquer this demon within my psyche?

Where are the answers I seek in my time of apathy?

Why has this inferior deity have such a grasp on me?

When! Again, when!!! When will I face this issue and start to find the peace of timely attainment?






(“… that I have sinned through my own fault in my thoughts and my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault…”)
Part IV:

I have lived with this for over a half century.
Trying to climb out of the hole of misused time.
Falling back into my penitentiary.
Serving a sentence of intimate crime.


The venting is complete, pity-pats written down.
My confession exposed for all to share, witness.
If this public sacrament exposes me a clown.
Mock away; have your jest. For I could care less.


My Ginsberg rant is to open doors of avowals.
To aid in my cure; in hope start my salvation.
To trust myself; to believe in oneself. I am all.
To look into the morning glass willing a reincarnation.


Only I can face the beast and make it heel.
Down inside I have to find the straight for each day.
Try a new, lighter approach; a new Don Marquis feel.
“…procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday…”




April 2014

Chains and shackles

Chains and shackles weigh me down
Ties to strong to break, helpless struggle
Unheard screams, guards surround me
Your around me, and you run blindly
So I sit quietly, with silent thought
Not knowing can be easer, so I remain unheard
I falter under pressure so squeamishly
Why slow you down?
You would try to carry me

Chains and shackles hold me down
My echoed heart beat is the only sound
A thudding heart could be heard
Tare it out from my very breast
It stop the twisted breath in my empty chest
A tortured heart freed from the rest
My body now a cesspool
A wasteland of festered stress
I will **** my hopes and dreams if it means
Honesty, equality, fairness to my loved

Chains and shackles ground me down
I could fly when your around
But I will squash anything
I wont dare let my bleeding heart sing
So let the guards hold me down
I challenge the people to there bliss
Tragic is no way for loves first kiss

Buzz, buzz, buzz
The fly says as it circulates
Around the congested classroom
The sound of pencil to paper
As art is created on the
Corners of failed labs and late assignments
Breathe in the soft pink flakes
Of your neighbors easer
That tickles your nose
And makes you cough
Hear the tapping of a pen
At the edge of a desk
As you silently beg for the teacher
To notice and cease it
Feet shuffle and bags are grabbed
In anticipation of the
Bell

s.a.m.

Constent sound
That's all I hear bickering
They say it's not there
That I'm a white boy ther be nouthing wroung with me
They say all I seek Is atenten
That can't be it since I suffer in silence, cry alone, and to finely stifle the noise, I Speek allowed to them so at less one voice would exit the 9th layer of hell I call my mand
They will never see and I will never Speeking of the voices which drive my imaginations into contplations of zombie ends and thretical debates,  that will shake your minds, hell it cripples mine, the constant debates of there's ******* my mind,  so all I can do is stifle those two words that would not make a lick of a difference, for if I let them slip people will just look at me, and think I'm rebelling "o he's a white boy, he must think our talking is beneath him, he will never know true pain like us minorities"
Ye,ah That's me the majority seeking ******* of minority, causing hell since I never experience it. I am nouthing but an anarkish heaven that sees nouthing but the color of ****, a complete pestmistick
They don't under stand; hell I don't understand my mind ether but to say I'm the majority, is dead wroung, what makes them minority, collor, religion, these I been taught means nouthing and nouthing they are Becuse there thoughts, their harts binds them to all races, not one thought or filling is independent to there race, these groing minority have sunken to the idea that they be the minority but no that is me, the one who can't sit in silence, with out rocking with pain, the words "shut up" forever on my lips dripping with mumbles of zombies and flames as high as buildings with me on top of the talist yelling I'm not insain I'm not insain I'm not insain Until finally I'm lost inside the flames.
And if they knew what hell was in my mind that would be worse, they will try to find the problem with scans and question. Did your dadie **** you? Is your brain ****** up? Why don't you just stop this shirade?  
And when thier questions just lead me screem more at them than at my own head they try to fix me for now I'm a danger so they imprison me for something they coused.
So they put me on psycotic medison , and the voices they continue but easer to with stand. But I'm not me any more I'm different I loss so much but can't grasp what it is. They say I'm a success, and I agree because I want to leave. I don't tell them I still hear voices becuse I don't want them to sedate me agin. I don't tell them I've lost the intelligent young man I was or the insitefull guy that could help people with problems that he him self never had but they would not cair all they want is me to be like them because that all they wish to see.
As soon I'm out of the jail I ditch the mids and I return to my insainity. O how the voices seem to be louder as if they was ****** I locked them up..... But I'm me agin or am I them I just might be them but is that a problem i lie to my famly "yea I'm fine," " yea I took them last night," "I'm happy". They believe me not becuse they do but becuse they want to. They never saw a problem befor yea I was strange but functional but as soon as soon they heard I had a problem they jump on it for it means thay have not failed.
But they have not failed the doctors did they saw a man with a problem that need to be cured when there was only a man who had a problem that he needed to live with a problem that made him better and strange a problem that made him different.
With my problem out in the open I become better at hiding my pain until I get back to my to my apartment where I scream, cry and argue but never in that order. Nabbers never new I was different for I sound proof this place.
And that's how I lived, paying for pills I never used, never confinding in anyone for I feared of going back to jail, and I just knew if I ever got back on thouse meds that that when I get off the voices will drown me and I would not make it a night befor I just decided to end my abnormal life

I thought i was getting better,
But im so far from it.
Constantly having these thoughts running through my head.
I keep having this dream
of what i did when i used to be like this.
Im in the bathroom, where i go to hide from this family
This family that hates me, makes me feel pain
Im sitting on the toilet, ive got my special blue kit
Youd never guess thats where i keep all my secrets.
I pick the newest  blade, the one that'll do the most damage
I put it to my skin and quickly draw down on it
Red liquid comes out and makes me feel alive
So i do another one, another one, until i feel fine.
I wipe up the mess, throw the paper in the toilet, flush it all away so no one will ever find it.
Its not like they've noticed, let alone cared
Pretty much invisible, until someone gets mad
Then they come to me and let it all out
It doesnt phase me, or at least thats how i act
But they dont know what goes on behind the bathroom door,
Where i spill out my emotions and clean them off the floor.
So ill stick with being silent, invisible, unnoticed
Itll only make it easer when im no longer at their service

Hello, yha its me
I hope your all rite after I chose to leave
They said it would get easer after I was gone
but from the looks of it your finding it hard to move on
I just wanted to let you know
that after all it was me who chose to go
so don't blame yourself for what happened
their wasn't anything you could have done to stop it  from coming

Hey mom, can you hear me?
I'm in heaven but I am not gone
I can see you when your crying
but don't you know that seeing this makes it hurt worse?
I would rather you forget all about me
than live another day crying because I wasn't strong enough to go on
I forgotten what it felt like
to be taken from the world
so mother pleas forgive me
I never meant to make your heart hurt

Hello Dad how are you?
how's the family
how has it been after you burred me down beneath the earth
I hope you know im sorry
but I couldn't stay much longer
Everything seemed to hurt
and even thou I tried my lungs still burned
so tell my brothers that im all rite
and that it wont help to cry

Hey, can you hear me?
are you listening
All I wanted was to be happy
Its so different now that I cant speak to you
So I hope your doing all rite
im sorry for what I have done
Im only calling you so you can lurn to move on
Forget me if you have to
Don't let my death ruin you

Hello, dear family
I left because although you couldn't see
my chest hurt so badly
and with every breath I wanted to be dead
so if you hate me I get it
I never meant for you to have to deal with it
so I guess this is it
im sorry if you stop listening
just letting you know
that I don't want anyone to follow me down
I hope you relies that I have made my choice

Goodbye my mother
and I love you so much my brothers and father
no matter whir I go
I will love no other
goodbye
so long
I will see you again when your time has come

Hopes die when your trust overdoses, strange.
From the little things I saw came admiration,
Like hot lava it slowly but with quantity it filled.
And rapidly did it started turning into stone unaware.

Exchange of words would be great joy,
Only until her decision was to lose interest.
Little by little I saw it coming collapsing down,
Yet I denied judgements and chose patience.

Sometimes everything looked so easer,
I never knew how they change so fast.
Dying to reach a place in her heart, rejection
Just one word to vanquish all you're.

The so called fortress of hope shattered,
A barren wasteland is what's left of it.
Confusing to understand why all the time
Leaves you unanswered intuitions.

Constant and stable is an unpredictable paradox.
Forget all and go on or stay and wait,
Stumbling upon choices when thoughts invade your mind,
Always the unpleasant but still confounding,
Fight the painful war thence you may reign once, at least!

Who are you?
Wayward lamb. Light seeker. Lost child.
Who are you?
Pain bearer. Guilt ridden. Heavy hearted.
Who are you?
Infinite labryninth. Enlonged paths. Endless journey.
Who are you?
Mysterious garden. Uncharted land. Hidden treasure.
Who are you?
Do you ask yourself this question often?
Who are you?
Do you need to?
Soul saviour. Heart protector. Mind easer.
Who are you?
Masked face. Familiar stranger. Mirror image.
Who are you?
Do you really know it yourself?
Who are you?
Who's behind the masks?
Locked chest. Closed doors. Sealed enteries.
Denied passage. Denied acceptance.
Cut off--Alone.
Who are you?

May I take a walk with you
Father Father may I have a word with you?
I feel so empty without you in my life,
My soul is weak
Crying out for help
But I haven't had none.
You are the creator of life
And the easer
No matter where I go
Astray or elsewhere
I still hear your calling
No matter how many times I ignore it
My soul trebles.
My eyes are filled with tears
While my heart is filled with pain.
It's broken,  please mend my heart.
Please help me not fall into sin
Guide me
Instruct me
Father, please take a look how my life is colliding.
Please direct me, use me as a tool.

Do you know what I see when I look at you
You can ignore me all that you like
Brake my heart I wont put up a fight
but I see beneath your cover
Go on you think your sly?
You don't think I know why
I can see that your afraid
you don't want to give up your heart
But look at what you've done
just don't forget the sun
You can push me away think I don't care about what you say
But I walk away because that is what you want
I don't talk to you because it would be easer for you and her
and all I want is you happy
you don't think I see but oh, yes I do
I see rite threw you

with my back agents the wall
i sing to them i call
my ravens in the night
you try to **** me and you throw me to the ground
i wont go down without a fight
with my back agents the wall
i know i will fight for them i call
your death will rain blood one  day
i will sing out to the other side
i will bring you death day tonight  
so clam you breathing and close your eyes
its easer when you die
i call to them my ravens of night
they see the fear and feed from the night
so close your eyes say our priers and say good by and good night it is your time

smile boy ,smile
raise your hand and praise
for your intimacy to jesus
brighten your life like
you're soul mate with him
for his love
you better have to long
no solitude,no sorrow
No sound of despair
because he cherish all of them
in his name
you've been wallowing in
the valley of sins
no thaughts of forgiveness
full of wrath and resentment
like a bank without guards
like a broken heart without the easer
now he has replaced them with joy
and a feeling of ecstacy
it's your time boy,
grab your bible and listen to his  voice
no more crying,
only feelings of his power,
from now till the end of your journey
it's time for your hallelujah.

It's easier to see through glass that hasn't shattered
I look to the ground, the broken mess
Everything is scattered

I see your smile
I see your light
The way you'd kiss my cheek

I see your fist
I see your swing
The way you think I'm meek

It's easer to see through glass that hasn't shattered
I look to the sky, the reflecting light
I see what should've mattered