Fake
A world prewritten
She planned on being unscripted
Her world is now unpredicted
She still knows someone else is in control
Depicted
Still a hope of making her own decisions
Yet there is nothing told
Destination unfolds
Still not powerless
She radiates greatness in a self-consciousness way
Expectance is decayed
Now only false hope and a piece of paper save the day

When I was sitting in my desk listening to this professor speak
He went on to state that our destines are already prewritten before we are born
That the road we travel has been built previous to our conception
I find this to be false!

Oh Search engines please look for me
A place where I can breathe freely
A place where I can sigh

Tea tree oils, Echinacea Goldenseal
We’re making love that seems so unreal
So many ways to express this bliss
We moan and we bite and we scratch and we kiss
Pent up frustration inside me until
We both get naked and together it’s killed
And it is no more
Prerequisites
Opposites
Lightning strikes
And minds are lit
Bestowing gifts
Coming from nature

Dark Covens
Forgiven
Holy bishops
Saving men
We shall perform a hex!

This is age of impermanence
Of alternative reference
Disregarding sacraments
Where we are all immanent

Slaying Natives, ***** slaves
Freeing them then they segregate
Separate like night and day
Then at night they’d kneel and pray
Asking God for him to save
I can’t believed they lived that way

A system around the sun
Is it ending or just begun?
The path to enlightenment, there’s more than one
Leave me deaf
And take my sight

The porcelain women wet in tears
The brooding man wise beyond his years
The children living in fear
Baffled with the question
Of wrong and right
And so I write
Day is getting dimmer
Televisions muted
Collecting my thoughts
There’s still something unsaid
Somewhere in my mind
But these disturbances and distractions
Leave them to remain undefined

Venturing down splendid hallways of machination
That led to an armada of malicious tendencies
How did I get here?
To this domain of deviation

I need to turn in another direction
A new route and get out of here

Screaming for a sign
Find me
Before time runs out
Sacrifice the live stock of your pride
At the intersection
Of pain and pleasure
But it’s getting congested with
Traffic of Sunday drivers, drunk and texting
Find me
On the razors edge
In the hallway
With a legion
Ready to charge
At your deepest hidden motives
The prerogative of the compass that will point you and I in a new direction
And if need be we can always poison each other for the well being of one another

dear —,
this is not divinity-
no empty pillowcase cape can make you fly
no lipstick can make you beautiful no girl can make you girl no
boy can’t make you boy
no night time prayers can make you god
girl,
you can’t hate yourself into a revolution
or love yourself into a label
boy,
bi-
child.
binary gendered thing
bipolar botched up baby with hit hard head
bisexual? still denying: gay **** queer ***** ***** *****
bi.
j,
this is no caution tape finish line-
no period can finish your seesaw story,
child,
sadness sometimes stretches like
semicolons or wet cement
flowing through this blood, waiting for the moment to harden
to cave you into yourself
to sink into nose too wide, heart too big, space
too much
you growing soul,
with samson strength put all
in two places
just because that ****** pillowcase can
catch your tears doesn’t mean
you will always be only to catch
You,
stand.
have you prayed your own salvation so much you’ve forgotten how it feels to
open your eyes
?
held yourself long enough your back can’t crack open again
?
searched solutions for phantoms so you can only see yourself problem
?
have you written so many poems that you expect me finished
here?
•••
darling,
not every poem has a conclusion
not every poem needs one.
and not every person is prose
where the solution wraps itself into a bow
you can’t keep conflict with yourself until it does
love,
sometimes the answer will pass through
falling failing chests and
pressed pastor palms
sometimes the answer isn’t prewritten
picture book in black and white/boy and girl
sometimes it’s You
somewhere in between-

And everyone says the story is prewritten where one day you blink your eyes and the next thing you know your dreams are being shredded left and right. The girl you fell madly in love with has changed far too much to keep pretending. And worst of all the pain of the world has just made you think that humanity is at its worst and there's not much you can do about it. Why call it life? Why call it life, when a more suitable name is 75-80 years of regrets?

This seems a playful satire on the mighty Saltire
prewritten amidst a highland lowland silence.
In the hand of the wise-to Queen, or St. Andrew,
eternally akin to this 4-piece jigsaw'd island.
The actors publicly casted, professional amateurs,
notably despised an' yet a country's finest.

The setting old an' knew, new an' known, with
a neglected audience primed for mass evasion.
An' piecemeal parliaments, scrolls nor parchments,
have no place in this covert-of-sorts invasion.
For the stage be set with indebted goodwill,
through empty words in empty declarations.

The plot is thickening quick to a household broth,
of misdirection, miseducation an' artificial lie.
That binds the truth as if truth could be told,
of national strength safe in obvious disguise.
Common wealth paid for by the oblivious poor
man's pocket, pulling loose a threadbare tie.

Nae t'shakespeare'd lines, no to broken records,
No to smug derision of the true an' earnest,
Yes to insincerities that make you sober or worse,
that shine up their last of royal seal varnish.
No to sticky-finger-printed brass doorknobs,
of which for Scots to knuckle down an' burnish.

No to pious voices calling to brothers in arms,
leave this pound of flesh in vacuous debate.
Yes to monopolies of endless fields an' wind,
an' guards sat on a wall which have no gate.
Alas freedom remembered, stamped an' framed,
was never a win but loss to sovereign'd hate.

Left to aged members of past an' proven fable,
to cry the Nae's an' Yay's of a borrowed tongue,
to the masses still confused, still right thinking,
of who to believe an' who to defile. Now hung
out to dry the many years of engineered deflation,
left alone with answers still evolving, still young.

A year from now a collusive conclusion made,
to this ending – the poet an' playwrights success.
Devolving the ever-changing, deceptive blurbs,
to inveigh a reasoned No with a passionate Yes.
Leaves me mawkish for my country as it devolves,
An' I the fraternal gambler with only a flighty guess.

Recognise your flesh. Recognise the life you have.
Recognise the absurd use of this bargaining chip.
Social norms which press you heavy, all the time,
be they Catholic, Protestant, Tory, Liberal or hip,
Recognise you can discard them, this very moment,
An' become a leader of this Clydebank anchored ship.

Let no acid be sprayed unless to sting open the eyes
of the blind. Let no more our words become unseen.
Let no more the voices of hatred speak. An' so leave  
conflict where it belongs, for crowing minds to preen,
In the past for histrionics. No more of them an' us.
Step into freedom. Free, as you always have been.

The last strike connects and Geralt´ s free at last.
A sword in his hand and an armoured chest
He has slain the final boss.
He has finished the final quest.

With the help of your hand and your knowledge and skill
He was able to fight himself free.
And now that the prewritten story is done
He can pursue his own will and is free.

And now You sit in your chair, wishing not only now
To be Geralt, the man with the power
To beat all the shadows of past and in present,
But You live under your father

Who has written already the actions you take,
Who has written the words you will utter.
For he is the one with experience.
And he is the one who knows better.

Yet You were the one leading the witcher´ shand.
You are the one with the power.
Pick up your weapon and armour of mind
And kick him from his tower.

It is long overdue that you realise.
Your father is the final boss.

I guess I've been building up to this rant for awhile. It being too big to write on the fly and I thinking not everyone will share my world/life views, this is being prewritten before being posted. If I even do post it. Now, the purpose of this rant. There are those who say I don't do it enough. Others don't really know me well enough to find that I should. I've been toying around with a lot of life thoughts in my head. Some sounds like excuses for choices I've made and maybe they are. However, everyone has excuses even when they say they have none. Excuses for good and for bad. It varies from religious views to personal relationships. I lack the intelligence of higher learning, so I admit, I do not claim to know everything. I only know my point of view. And I've had it for awhile and it's the only thing I know for a surety about myself. This is written to neither offend or berate those around me. Instead, to give those a better idea of the person I am.

1- religious beliefs: just to get this out of the way first, I'm spiritual but not religious. It's an over used phrase. Not really agnostic because in a small way everyone is. No one knows what exists for a fact. They have their gathered experiences and ideals to come to the conclusion that's seems reasonable enough to guide their lives by. And even when they have those beliefs, no one follows to the letter of it. And that's ok. We are a world of imperfections. From what I've gathered from theology, through out my life, the main 2 things that everything has in common is to
              1-be a good person
              2- be a good person to others.

IF God fails to exist, then that means I am the master of my own life, experience, moral compass, actions towards myself and others. Brought up in a religious house, this was obviously called free will. And I've been painfully aware of it's reality since childhood. Not by my free will but of others. IF God fails to exist, then that means we either choose to live for ourselves or live in the service of others. And the conflict between selfishness and selflessness of those who do express religious beliefs always confused me. I've stopped questioning the place it has in my life because the things I question do not come with answers, only positive and negative influences that I have been taught throughout my life. I, myself, am selfish but I try to live selflessly in order to strive to be a good person in my mind. This brings about drama but joy as well. I see it as a way of being whole spiritually. Light and dark must coexist in order for all thoughts to take root into actions. Without light, anyone trapped in the dark will not be able to fathom joy, love, compassion....basically empathy. The dark holds only the opposite. Yet, without the dark, anyone living wholly in the light will seem too naive to trials and being able to truly understand how hard it is to find a glint of light in a pitch black situation. And, if no one is aware of themselves, they will most likely choose one or the other. Never both. I strive to encourage the light and face the dark. As a spiritual person, I'm grateful. I have moments where the trials of my own life and that of others tend to lead me down to the dark corners in my head but knowing the light I have a chance of weathering it the best way I can without being consumed by it. Those who have done this know it's never an easy feat. I believe that I must be all things in order to be whole. Good, bad, happy, sad...if I lack but one thing because I feel that it serves no purpose, then I feel I would have cheated being myself.

2- Love: like faith, this is simply an emotion of perception. No one idea of love is the same. And everyone holds love in different regards with different people. Some believe that once you find love in one person, that should be shared with that person alone. Monogamy, friendships, family. All creatures of a constructed idea that loyalty is the root of love. And as beautiful and trying that is, I cannot believe this is so. I believe love to be a necessary virus. That we are born with it to spread to those who need it. To those who crave it. To those who have yet used their own idea of love and desperately crave someone else to show them the description. Not just sexually but unconditionally. And this creates conflict of the soul. Especially when we force our minds and suppress our hearts to show that love on one singular facet. To love is to lose oneself completely in the possibility that it's vast and it's easy to get lost in. Moments of infidelity. Moments of torn emotional turmoil plays it's toll. Picking who to love and why you love them and what you would do for that person because you love them is insanity. But we all crave it. I believe that love is made to validate war or at least calm the tremors that it brings about. It's a chemical balance of things we've subjected ourselves to feel through habit and example. We create the brand of love that we give others and we seek that brand in hopes that other have the same or at least similar brand so we can feel the comfort of home with someone else. The feeling of safety, the feeling of rest, the feeling of realness, the feeling of acceptance, the feeling of truth, the feeling of comfort, the feeling of life and the feeling of fighting when love is deemed worthy of fighting for. This is my brand. I give it freely with the price that I will be questioned in where my love truly lies. It's scattered about freely like breadcrumbs. And if someone finds me at the end of that trail, I'll be ****** if I created that journey for them for nothing.

3- service/friendship/family: when I was younger, I though friends were the gold of my life. Irreplaceable and unable to be made the same twice. I use my friends to create the persona I've grown since youth. I am those who have love me and hated me. I am those who inspire me and depress me. I am those who fought for me and fought against me. If I feel that I'm flawed I search for others with these flaws. If I can help or even be the catalyst of my friends to overcome their flaws, then I have a shot of overcoming mine. My friends are proof that I'm not alone even in the moments where I wish I was. Even those I choose to be "unworthy" of my friendship, I cannot help but show them the courtesy of friendship. They are the reason why I stay alive in hopes that if I cannot help myself then there are those in need of me....hopefully. My family is, in a way, very tight knit. They are what molded my sense of dedication and perception that I bring into the outside world of society. They are the jokes I tell. They are the tears I've shed. They are the hugs I give. They are the noise I've screamed out of anger. They are the pillars in which I've stood on to weather the strains of being an individual. Wether the examples were good or bad, they were always the educators of my emotions. And there's a bitter sweetness that comes with that. The feeling that one must rise to an expectation and risk the crushing reality that, I alone, may not be able to rise to the challenge. It's hard to break away from those who raised you and create your own family in combined reasons with strangers around you. Or to create a family and come to find out they will only part ways from you after some time. To me, friends old and new, gone or present, they are always family. I could not have pieced myself together as the person I am today were it not for those who willingly gave pieces of themselves to me. And by me, they are loved.

4- Judgements: this one is always a sensitive one for me because I'm guilty of judgement. I've found myself many times giving the side glance at others and feeling like my thoughts are better than theirs. My theory is, if one has enough attention to pick out the flaws and cracks of people then they too possess the ability to pick out the gems in them as well. And it's difficult to do this when one is trapped in their own mind of "what's acceptable and what's abhorred. Homosexuality, deformities, drug addicts, mental illnesses, bad attitudes, poor management in a work force, dumb choices made by friends and family, someone who cuts you off in traffic, worldwide tales made by those who don't want the truth of matters to be revealed, politicians, other races, WHATEVER! We live in a time where life is taboo. Differences are mocked instead of celebrated due to our lack of living outside of ourselves and really put in the time to live in someone else's head. We justify our judgement by feeling so secure that we are always right and that other simply don't know any better. And deep down this makes us angry. Or to me, it does. And it should. We use are judgements as a safety net of our insecurities. We use them to feel that our lives are more significant than those we figure are wasting the time and air we greedily consume. We use it to feel pride in killing others in battle and deem it with a sense of patriotism or a mark of gaining hierarchy in are status but for what? Those who hide behind religious walls will or wealth or self serving thoughts will never know the joy of finding a stranger and making them a working cog in the life we're lucky to have. And it's sad that one must pursue past the nay sayers just to find that voice of reason that tells you, " you're imperfect but that's what I love about you."

Maybe it's the zen influences that I've recently encountered in my life or maybe these are thoughts that I've always had but due to stress and tragedy, I never was able to put this into words. Maybe fear that I know...by my words nothing will change according to my own perspective. However, if you made it this far into reading this, I'm grateful that you did. And I write with the intent, not to change how you think, yet, to make you think all the same. Life is too short and the human mind has too much potential to be wasted on a monotonous life that we believe will grant us happiness. There is so much more out there. And if you don't have the funds to travel or the friends that inspire you or the words that resonate within you, you have a mind that can sense life in all it's forms and all you need to do is use it. I love you guys

She was young, when they came in the middle of the night. The captors like villains in a fairytale, overwhelmingly one dimensional.

Her captors were Fate and Destiny. Fate was deadpan, zero sense of humor. Seriously, the girl was a bit of a bore. Destiny on the other hand, was the most handsome woman she'd ever laid eyes on.

With a grand flourish, Destiny pulled back the curtains of her old life and let her glance from afar at a new world of possibilities. Destiny told her it could all become reality, if she was willing to pay the price.

Fate on the other hand was more practical. She sat her down and gave her a pragmatic view of what was to come of the future.

The dullness, the suffocating sense of safety, the lack of fulfillment, the inevitable slow death. Fate was honest...and she could respect that.

But Destiny, oh so tempting, continued on. She painted a picture of ambition, true love, fascinating people, happy memories, and a peaceful end to a truly magnificent life.

Destiny reminded her of someone she knew. A girl she forgot long ago when she decided that looking in the mirror proved too difficult to bare.

Destiny smelled of the future while Fate reeked of home.

So, Destiny asked, are you willing to pay the price? To give up everything you know, everyone you think you love, all to take a chance with me?

Did she realize what she was asking? The levity of the question at hand? What would people say? That she'd run off in the middle of the night in search of the stars? That she'd died searching for a life that didn't exist.

Destiny paused...time's running out my dear.....make a choice.

Fate implored her to reconsider, a life lived in the shadows was still a life lived. A life in mourning of a future you'll never have was still a life of stability.

The girl turned, shook her head at her captors, and ran past them leaping straight into the depths of the darkness.

With a thunderous cry, she realized that she had flown straight past the stars, away from her captors, away from Fate and Destiny. Determined to make her own choices.

Because there's no way in hell she'd allow her story to be prewritten by one dimensional, delusional, villains.

You made me, I'm your creation
Not by choice I live in frustration
I didn't ask for this
What u call a gift
Of life
It's more of a burden
Why should I follow
The one from which I'm made
You've mapped out every route
Sometimes I'm soo afraid

You compare me To a legend
A God who is in all so vein
Real or creative fiction
Famous through a book
That lies, and kills the tame
I may have similar traits
I hold no grudge and love all
But my death won't save the sinners
But my life can the thinking
And teach
The still to crawl
Are my decisions mine
I feel in control most the time
But instances seem prewritten
I knowingly move left
But waiting is a situation
You so obviously orchestrated
The bible in its perfection
Has so much contradiction
You say we have free will
But in stone my life is written

Which is it, make up your mind
I love in your torture
Cause perfection is not my kind
But your not perfect not even close
You just sit up on your pedestal
Using powers any man can boast
Now it's my turn, pass me the mic
I need to start your hypocritical oath

When I was younger
I had this idea of love
As being a prewritten script

I’d spot you on the dancefloor
Our eyes would meet
You would smile
I would smile
We would dance the night away

All of a sudden you would have to leave
It’s okay though
You would leave your slipper
That way I could return it
So that you could be my princess

What I didn’t know is that dancefloors aren’t meant for lovers
Or that your eyes would be like medusas
Turning my soul to stone
And that when you left
You shoe would stay on your foot
Leaving me with an idea of love when I was a little older

Love was my dad in the navy
My mom the traveling nurse
Meeting in Hawaii
Getting married in a church
Her waiting while he was away
They’d love each other forever
After all, they had me.

But sometimes mom and dad fight
And sometimes mom and dad cry
Because let’s face it
Mom and dad had this idea of love
When they were younger
And this wasn’t what they had in mind

When I was a teenager i had this idea of love
She had freckles and green eyes
One half Irish
One half Indian
She had all of my heart
She told me to write down my feelings
And to trust in love
Love way talking on the phone till 2am
And holding hands in public

But no one told me that love could have a father
And that sometimes dads drink
And go missing for a few days at a time
Or that love could leave for 6 weeks
And that talking on the phone till 2am
Could turn into never sleeping
Because love wasn’t there
No one had warned me that love’s letters sometimes have misspellings
And that when love returns home she wouldn’t feel the same
And she never did
Four years later
Sometimes I think about love
But not too much
I am kind of done pretending

The puppet strings were
always pulled so tight.
They restricted my movement
and my breathing.
Then you cut them off
With no
Warning.
We dance in the car
We hold hands
We do not take instructions
From cues prewritten
In teenage romance novels.
You don't listen
To indie pop.
You don't even like poetry.
But you like me
Even when you pretend
Otherwise.
The night you kissed me,
You spent thirty minutes
Talking about cars in the cold.
I didn't understand a word,
But I loved every minute.
We aren't delicate China,
We are a red sports car
On our way to the Smithsonian.
We aren't baby steps and blushing.
We are red sharpie,
Rewriting Rules For Happiness.
We are *******,
Pushing buttons until they jam.
We are awful singers.
We are louder than the radio.
We are just a moment
But it's a moment to look back on.

You’re struck by thoughts that zip like raging electricity
Charged wholesomely by the eye snatching power of curiousity
There’s that hefty knapsack of guilt constricting your back
A tear stained jacket olive green and not so fresh off the rack
Typical attire adorned by an untamed hellcat hellbent on the attack

You’re always eager for flimsy fellows with paper mache names
Too bad they catapult you back into prewritten tales of ill-ridden fame
You seem to entice the astral glare of scorching stars
To unwittingly interrupt Nature’s frolicking soundtrack at all the key bars

You’re Alice’s protégé adeptly meeting learning goals
Far surpassing her mentor at the art of slipping reality and falling down rabbit holes
A spirit shedding her blouse of light and taking a dip in the lake of souls
Writing new mythologies amidst the morbid company of witches and trolls

You’re burned letters and missed calls on the phone
A slowly sinking stone
Filled with grey from every ***** to bone
Wilting words spoken monotone

Sometimes you find that needle in a haystack
Sometimes you find hay in a needle stack
We're all just trains speeding on tracks,
Looking straight ahead, never thinking about the crash
Screeching  to a halt, with a sore neck from the whiplash.
It's all in the plan, not yours, but the prewritten
As those cards come crashing, sitting up late,
contemplating the best plan to keep the water out,
Plugging ears to keep out the sounds of doubt
Still stuck at a crossroads without ever receiving a map

The fact is, you're in a life stuck in a trap,
Locked behind a desk, making little to give a lot back
They've got you hooked like an addict, digging in scraps,
Not achieving true potential, the mentality of worthless minimal
It's pitiful, the places you could be but aren't,
Rising stars burn out in a fast food smoke
In a way it's a joke, even these words become hidden
Within an invisibility clock, forgotten in a note.
To the point that even a poet who'd never know it
Got discouraged about his rhyme and unwrote it.

I'm running down the fields throwing needles in hay,
But today, the kids don't come out to play
Too busy aspiring not to aspire, lost in the desire
Of lazy days, stuck in a hazy maze,
Lost his metal cap and lost his way
Only educating the past educated, in a past already paved,
The rest enslaved by reality for lack of better analogy
Feeling the weight of an eighty hour minimum week salary

Cowards die a thousand deaths
Rehearsal done when alive
Will the take  go smoothly
Retake  not an option
Timer on the clapboard faster than usual
None to give feedback or access any prewritten manual

you have a destiny, we all do.

because destiny is simply the predecided, it is the path in which from birth you are guided... it is the false freedom of being an individual, and all those critical moments... your decisions, they were all set in stone in exact precision... by events out of your control... and all you are doing is playing your role.

destiny does not take sides or provide options... it is the truth of the future to you unseen... it is the script on which exist all the scenes...

because that is the cruel nature of reality... even your individuality... it is no more than a movie... a tape... it is what makes you... your beliefs, feelings, shape.

and you? you are a prewritten character...  you are a puppet... so play your role and shut it!

Fate.
Who believes,
In the idea
Of fate?

Who believes,
That at some point
Our free will was stripped of us,
Or did we ever have it at all?

What if,
When God created everything, he said
"Let them believe they have choice!
Let them think their will is their own!


Allow them to assume they can
Think on their own,
Make decisions on their own,
Do anything on their own!
Their story has been prewritten.


You,
Fate,
Shall decide how everything goes."

And yet,
Some people aslo believe
In free will.
How?

How can you believe in free will,
The idea that we can live
However we choose,
But you also think
That our lives were planned out for us?
That we have no choice,
That everything is meant to happen?

Now I ask you this,
You reading this,
Was that Fate,
Or choice?

It's been said by the tribesman
grief is definite
death is certain
I hate how it's poetic

Head stretched too thin

to write the final sentence
On a script
our maker
had prewritten

Alive & Arms wide
we collide
with oblivion
Still I sin
and continue
breathing

in spite of terrible tribesman
that like to keep
lies locked between
teeth
and spread stories
where sweet girls are ******
in hopes they believe they're
superior
to the victims
they meant to
rip to pieces

stealing dreams
from the few people
not stagnating
in misery

Sad we started
leaving wishes
where they bloom

Demented Distance
dead empty
the light
inside you
is soon to diminish

Doomed to move
through dimensions
useless in my attempts
to rescue the universe

Demolish all the nonsense
you've ever wanted
Everything you were
taught inside that box is false

From afar
I watched
as you dropped
the plot
Demi Gods died for all this?

until held hostage
in a monsters death grip
ever since I expect
the most unfortunate
of situations

because its better to
remain
in a constant state
of suffering

There is an attitude
about coming together
to create something new

I wonder if that is the cause
For corruption
When someone steps up
To take another's place
To carry out something prewritten
There is no longer the cause
There should never have been
Permanence in legislature