Freedom Soon Will Come: 2011

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Gold Wheat

I sit in front of an ash filled table. Papers are strewn all over. The colors of pens lying on the table confuse me as I choose one to snap in two. Simple pleasures are taken away. I write and think while I think what to write. It grows, it grows.

Listening to it, I can't help but remember things that transpired, how it has effected me, how it's molded me, continuing to mold me. I have this hate, this lust for relief. Like a chained demon, bellowing, screaming, begging to be let loose. Then I watch the ocean, waves, and the simplicity of human emotion and I forget the demon. A want to love and be free washes over me, then it gets jealous or something else provokes insanity, tickling my blood and it begins all over again. I don't understand, yet I do, and I sometimes wish I didn't.

You all had insect eyes.

And i'm always late......i'm always late.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Porcelain

I've always felt like I knew.

And I will always know.

My purpose here, I still don't really understand. But maybe it's something bigger. Maybe something smaller. But I will always remember to love, as he loved.

And that should always be the only purpose.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Map

I have very old blood.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Pitch

I saw her standing there watching the birds in the midday sun. Her dress swayed lazily in the wind, she looked so beautiful.

I kicked up the pebbles by the waterside as I walked up to her, she, glancing around to see who it was. She never looked me in the eye.

As I stood beside her, we watched the sun sink lower till it touched the rooftops of the old brown, rained stained houses beside the river.

Just before the day was done, I shifted my feet and said what i'd come to say.

"You know I love you. I hope you'll see that someday. No matter what happens."

I turned and walked away as her tears fell creating ripples in the still dirty waters.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

You Think About

Run. Hide. Vanish. Kill. Rip. Crush. Angry. Regret. Worthless. Bleed. Spit. Despise.

These are the things they make me feel.

How is it a good thing.

Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.Lies.

.:.

You make me sick.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Matthew

I wrote before pain is choice. Freedom of mind is choice.

I choose oblivion. I choose to enter the gloom once again for my rebirth. It could be my death, but if it is meant to be, it must. I vow not to speak again of feelings. I may fail, but I must try.

Because no one appreciates what I say. God gave you truth, he gave you signs, and you rejected everything. He will give you another chance, but you will still hold on to your false values and not repent. We will tarry no longer.

I have wasted my time on you, everyone. I pray the end of time is hardest for you because what you put me through is nothing compared to what you will go through.

He will not save your soul.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Satisfied

Forget your lust, for the rich mans gold

All that you need, is in your soul

Burn harder, faster.

Run harder, faster.

Try harder, faster.

I am the only one.

I belong on my own.

I don't need anyone else.

Where is the cold? Melted. It must begin again.

Can't you see i'm trying to let it all fall away, be who I really am, but no one lets me, they keep making me raise up my walls again and again and again.

So be it.

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Dream.

Snow had just began to fall.

The streets were quiet, tranquil. He looked out through behind foggy windows, admiring the beauty of the moment. He felt a tug, turned around and a smile greeted him. Into eyes green he fell, a place he thought he could never be. And he didn't belong.

Out the door into the cold, his hand gripping his tightly, skipping along the path, the crunch of snow and dirt sounding almost musical as they walked along. The smell of candy, mint and fuel filled the air, somewhat comforting as he waited outside while he, grinning widely, skittered through the store, every once in a while glancing back at him, beaming then again, wildly distracted by such happiness, turned to grab more.

Lugging big white bags of treats, gifts, they stopped by the edge of the forest to watch the snow fall. He stared up, wide eyed in awe at the sky just watching, feeling. A tear formed and he looked down. As it fell, he said,

"I miss mom."

I didn't know what to say or do. The smoke from my cigarette gently wisped around me as the wind, indecisive and free blew everywhere.

"I know kiddo. I'm sure everyone misses her too."

I saw him look up at me from the corner of my eye, but didn't meet his gaze. What should I say? What could be said when such hope and comfort are taken away?

"You know, she loves you. No matter how much the world can spin out of control, no matter how dark your days can get, even when it seems like it's so impossible to go on, she will always, always love you like she always has. And she always will."

It seemed silly. But he grabbed me suddenly, hugged me tight and didn't let go for a long time.

My heart skipped one too many times, it was a wonder how I managed to keep my hand from shaking as I held him close. It turned cold, my heart did, as if frozen, hard, the chill in my chest burned somehow.

Then we turned to walk back, back to her.

I felt lost just then. The sister, brother, family that I didn't belong to.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Ticks

I love my family in England.

Why?

Because I know they exist.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

General Winter

Since war and the fight for power began, many have tried, most have failed.

Russia.

Land of mass mystery and illusion.

I'll be honest and say, well, you can tell by previous posts.

What made them who they are? Spirit, strength. Something a lot of people do not realize offhand. They were cold, hard, unmoving, relentless, divine, strong, believed, had intense faith, and stood united, more than any other country could ever be. When war came to their country, time and time again, they fought for the right to live, even though their losses were heavy, insane almost, ghastly. But they kept pushing right through till it broke the back of the enemies, shattering everything in their path. The strength of a Russian is unmeasurable, it extends beyond our imagination, and what fuels it? It's just who they are.

And this has helped me through my own life time and time again. And recently so, it has brought new meaning to me. Through our lives, the difficulties we go through bog us down till we can't move to help ourselves. But adopting the spirit of Russia itself, despite the cold, despite the pain, despite the losses, we must simply, press on. For the goal lies beyond, further than our minds eye can see, but we must believe, as one, as a whole, together, we must take those small steps moving forward to that place. The reward is infamy, peace and an awe at such valor in the face of ruin. With a roar, a charge and a voice that will ring throughout eternity, we fight on to live tomorrow stronger.

Not One Step Back!

Rest On Me

Do you know who your soul really is?

Is it a person? A thought? An idea? Or just simply you?

Find your soul and share with me what it tells you.

Want to know what my soul is?

It's running. My soul's been running and running since I've been in touch with it. It's a part of me that I can never hold down. It smiles at me, toying with me and yet always reminding me that...

...that it's free.

Fields, mountains, plains, hills, oceans, ponds, lakes, sand, trees, grass, bushes, fire, sky and darkness. Into and beyond these places has my soul run through them, and it still runs. Seeing the world in shades and flashes of grey through peoples eyes and listening to the words unspoken, it wraps them always taking a side of them I can never see, then returning to me with a grin, giving it to me to figure out. Then swiftly, before I can ask why, it flutters away, soaring, climbing, once again spinning the world on it's little finger. Where have you been, soul? Why run from me when we are one? But when I need you most, you come without a thought, holding me tight, reminding me that it's still there, always where I never imagined it would be...

Within me.

It sits on lonely, high platforms, staring at the world, watching, praying, hoping. What for?

Peace.

So close yet so far. And how much it hurts when my soul comes running back to me; sometimes sad, sometimes happy, sometimes cheeky and playful; but now, torn in two, shredded, crushed, bleeding, begging, screaming in torture. It grabs me by the veins of my heart and pleads for mercy, asking me to stop it's horrendous pain. But I can't. Writhing on the ground, moaning for all of this to stop, never have I seen my soul in such plight. What can I do but watch, as who I am is torn in pieces, unable to shut off the sounds of misery as more wounds are yet again reopened. Its eyes meet mine and all I can do is stare into dark golden eyes, the love in it telling me it knows that I can't help it no more than I can help myself. It tells me it loves me beyond a godly comprehension despite the pain, and sometimes, so rarely, I get a glimpse of a smile, somehow saying...

...It'll be alright.

Please. Take me away.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Fly Back With A Branch

Ruby came along and made me want to say stuff.

She, that mountain and white doves.

My hearts broken.

My souls never been through such torture before.

It's easy to get into the zone. Simply think about the things that hurt the most. And yet, what am I to do? I've never tried so hard in my life to be perfect, so selfless. Maybe I did once, but I failed then, vowed never to. Patience runs thin, what feeds it is the godlike faith it could work. Dreams were never meant to pass into reality and when they do, it's so fragile. Breathe but a little and its dust could be blown into the wind. I fear the words I speak, the way my heart pulses so rapidly, how my soul grips its chains and pleads, screams for its freedom. Reigns that I hold, I feel the grip loosen, and it doesn't bring happiness, but grim pain because....

Because why is it so difficult?

Why?

Why be so afraid? Why be so difficult? Isn't life already so hard that you find it possible to make it so much more so? Isn't our existence so complicated and insane that a simple thing like this seems altogether so impossible?

"But right now, you and me here, put together entirely of atoms, sitting on this round rock with a core of liquid iron, held down by this force that seems to trouble you, called gravity, all the while spinning around the sun at 67,000 miles an hour and whizzing through the milkyway at 600,000 miles an hour in a universe that very well may be chasing its own tail at the speed of light; And admist all this frantic activity, fully cognisant of our own eminent demise - which is our own pretty way of saying we all know we're gonna die - We reach out to one another. Sometimes for the sake of entity, sometimes for reasons you're not old enough to understand yet, but a lot of the time we just reach out and expect nothing in return. Isn't that strange? Isn't that weird? Isn't that weird enough? The heck do ya need to be from Mars for? "

I'm reaching out to you. Take my hand.

Make this amazing journey come to life, give hope to everyone, that some dreams can come true.

If only you're willing to try.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Floats

It hurts.

I'm numb.

And I can't do anything.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Smell of Desire

As time ticked slowly by, her breath was all I could hear. The distant cries of children, the thunder and rain, bells in the early shadows of the evening sun all seemed to disappear as she gently whispered to me while she slept.

Images, visions, reality seemed to drop away quickly now as eyes that could barely stay open closed and into bliss the first step was taken.

Her horse nudged beside her, turning, surprised. The lush green grass cooled her bare feet, she dug in playfully into the soil, feeling every sense in her body pulse with such tranquility. She giggles, leans her head on her horse and gently strokes her. She encourages her and before she knows it she's one with the wind, her dark hair wild as she gave herself in to freedom. Golden brown sunlight shines off the calm ocean waves, it's sound lifting her spirit higher. It sang to her and she moved in time to its silent crash and roar. White sandy beaches, the scent of nature, she was lost in it.

In the distance, figures move towards her, curious. Her horse seems to understand and she is now again being led ever so carefully on. She hears voices, though against the breeze, it sounds clear.

"Mother!"

Her children, running with arms wide open, joyful in her return. Her horse lets her down and they run into her arms, hugs of love, appreciation, cherish, desire overwhelm her and they roll in the sand, laughter echoing throughout the wild. She turns to the look, and there lies a house and yet another figure.

She gathers her children in her arms, tiny hands holding onto her skirt as they walk towards the house. She wonders who is this person standing there, waiting. She draws nearer and a smile greets her, knowingly, filled love love and passion. Their eyes meet, a tear of happiness trickles down her cheek and....

.....she knew she was home.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Lincoln

"So I said yeah, tuna is fine. And he looks at me real pissed sort and I give him the stare ya know. Ok, then he starts stuffing my sandwich with lettuce and tuna..."

"Hold on. Everyone knows the tuna goes first, then the lettuce."

"Yeah ok, whichever, so he puts the tuna and the lettuce, looks up at..."

"You don't care do you? You know why the tuna goes first?"

"What? No, why...?"

"The lettuce wraps the tuna, so when yer bite, tuna don't spill the fuck outta your face like yer nets broken."

"Ok, so what, i'm telling the story..."

"Nyeh..."

And they go on to argue more about tuna and how they should be caught. Lex, an arms reach away looked sideways at me, obviously uncomfortable. His lips puckered slightly his brow creased in a frown. I quickly looked back at the gate. I cleared my throat.

"He scares me you know. The one with the...."

I pointed to my face and drew a line mimicking a scar.

"....the, you know yeah."

I blinked quickly unsure of what to say. Lex shuffled his feet left and right.

Then Lex spoke.

"Think we should just leave? I'm a bit spooked."

"Thought you'd never say it. But think it's alright? What with the boss coming..."

"I'd say fuck it. He don't even know. And look at the mess."

"Yeah, go, really."

And so they left the two to bicker on and on through the evening as the stink worsened. They looked around for the two that left, but they were no where to be found.

"Lou, we're dead."

"Why, Dan, why? I don't like dead."

"They left."

"Who did?"

"Who the fuck else? The two crazies"

"Where did they go?"

"Oh, yeah, see they went that way then they made a left turn, stood on their hands and did a left tit shimmy. Where did they go, how the fuck would I know that?"

"Oh right. That's a good thing right? They gave me goosebumps."

"No it's not."

"Why?"

"Christ I'm tired. Cause the boss is on the way here and he'll think we did this..."

He waved his hands in front of him at the pile of bodies stuck together, slick, wet, rotting and dirty.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Grey Wall

As the winds cleared the dust on the plain, bright shining armor gleamed in the midday sun lighting up the entire horizon. It seemed heavenly, the golden light shimmering as they breathed deep.

Battle horns sounded, whips lashed as horses neighed in protest.

The castle was dark, the men trembled and hid behind stone columns.

They drew nearer, the thuds of heavy stone battering the sturdy walls, breaking, crumbling them.

The day was over, the battle won.

But not yet.

His voice thundered through the mountains, shook the trees, scattered the birds and broke the will of mens hearts. They stopped dead in their tracks, fear gripped them like an ungodly vice. The sky darkened, the very world seemed to hide and tremble from his voice.

And again he roared as he appeared from the skies, his hands raised in anger.

Thousands fled, cringed, pleaded. He stood there, rage filling his veins, eyes burning in hate.

They knew what they had done. They knew what he could do.

They knew his power.

Fear, anger, hurt.

And the ground split in two as his hammer crashed into the earth, shattering the age of men.

Orius Kryptos

2027BC

LSD

Is it me or is everything gently falling into place?

Surprising me at every turn, yet with such kindness.

Turn around have faith in all the changes.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Till She Cries No More

I cringed as I felt it. Closer and closer. And I knew, but didn't want it.

Before I realized, it hit me like a truck and I was choking, reeling in the dark. The anger fluxed. And I heard the wings beckon, pleading to listen and move away.

I did.

There I was, on the ledge I find myself coming back to time and time again. Wings shielded me from the hard cold rain. My fingers felt the sharp edge, water rushing to fill the ends of the streets. How high will I always be? Watching you, watching everyone. I am here because I must live.

I am here because I am needed.

I am here because...

I do not feel.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Ave

I made that walk.

With each stride I drew closer, time stopped and all was silent as I looked at the people passing by. I saw her through the window in a red apron, hair tied up, hands busy moving swiftly, smoothly.

I gently pushed the door open without a sound, found an empty chair, laid the case on the table and took out my guitar. I sat down, placed my hands on the strings and played.

I didn't see her turn, I didn't see her gasp, I didn't see her at all. I looked up to glance at her, to see her hands covering her mouth. I smiled a small smile and returned to my guitar.

I didn't care anymore, I just wanted to say the tiny things I never could say, I wanted to say I was real and here I was.

But how would I ever know?

Because I said I did and I meant every word.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Prison

He stood by me in the dark, just watching.

We'd made some progress. Merkain had potential, but he was still young. He'd done some very precise work that I'd admired. He reminded me of a younger, bolder me. The council revolved around time, the timing needs to be perfect. I scoffed at Shval for making it all too clear. Me, the one who perfected time before perfection could be timed. But respect is timely, and timed well, it is perfection. And so, I wait.

Merkains breath literally clouded up the shadows.

"You keep breathing like that, they'll know we're here."

"So, you'll just tear 'em to bits."

"No...my hand's sore from the last one we did."

"You're joking."

"Sometimes I wish I joked more so everyone would say the exact opposite. Serious seems to be too serious."

"No, you're funny."

I turned and stared at him.

"How so?"

He didn't look at me, but instead lifted his arms and pranced on the spot with his cheeks bloated out. I frowned.

"That was a very, very long time ago. And who told you that story?"

"Story? It wasn't a story. Syriane swore it was true."

"Syriane needs to get out more. She tells one too many tales to too many young ones."

Merkains aura diminished. He looked to me for many a thing, and I loved him as one of my own. This, I never made obvious, but he knew. He learned to feel quicker than the rest.

"Don't. You know why I chose only you to come with me. It will never change despite what I say or do."

"I know."

I felt sad and distant as I felt him look up at me, wishing I would say or express more. But I couldn't. The more I dwelt on it, I wanted to rise and wreck my pain across the universe. Yet it would prove nothing. To burn within is to keep the brightest fire alive.

Merkains hand on my arm stunned me momentarily. I didn't move.

"Someday, somehow, it will come. I'll wait with you, if that's ok. For however long it will take. Till this body rots."

And deep down I wept for the pain ran deeper than my eternal bleeding soul.

Miles By Strides

And that time contraption never worked.

It never looked better but Byle said that it did and I trusted that. Having a a second opinion on stuff that mattered made assurances assuring.

"Is he coming? Said he'd be here by three."

"And I'm supposed to know, how?"

His eyes widened and I laughed.

We make cookies when the sun shines and that's just the sideline. Then I saw him coming up on the corner so I had to turn off Sesame Street and focus.

"Checker?"

"Yeah. You made the call?

"Last week in Twholly. Time?"

"Right 'bout now. We've got a great view."

We turned to the harbor and Byle pointed out a spot out in the distance.

"Is it safe?"

I snorted in laughter then the doubt kicked in. I looked at him, then back at Byle.

"Are we?"

But Byle's face was warped as he stared up and behind me.

"We're too late."

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

An Old Man, In An Attic

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,

through the graves the wind is blowing,
freedom soon will come;
then we'll come from the shadows.

he was strong while i was meek

songs he sang from me to him i keep

days to remember, time seems to peek

around the corner, corners so deep

run, run, sway in the wind

long friends, distant kin

are flying on wings so thin

the longing, cold, lies therein

take me there?

On That Sunday

I heard them, I heard their voices rise high and sink deep.

Entering the chapel, heads turned at the back in curiosity. Crossing myself, I moved over to an empty seat. My hood was up, I wanted to be alone. Shuffling through to the seat, I sat down and listened. I closed my eyes and felt it speak to me, felt my spirit calm and surround me. I was here at last, alone with my angel. My angel...

I hung my head and tears began to swell in my eyes. I throbbed in silent weeping as I felt it course through me, I was pleading, searching, praying.

The deacons around found it disrespectful I had worn a hood in the chapel, and so, one of them walked over to approach me.

Tears fell at my feet as I continued to commune with my angel. I felt a tap on my shoulder and an abrupt halt from it being repeated. What I didn't know was the person beside me had stopped the deacon from disturbing me. He knew I was praying, crying. The deacon moved away.

Then I felt a gentle hand caress my back, soothing, comforting me. Another hand from the right held my hand and I grasped it, holding on, thankful. I sobbed in joy.

He then said, "Cry, friend, cry. You are safe here..."

Curly Clouds

And so it begins once again.

The rebirth, the recluse.

What fuels it? What makes the very air I breathe, change? Only you know. I want to run, run and run. Where is my freedom, am I to be chained forever? To that land where I am shrouded with undying mystery and wonder, where I can hear their voices fill every corner of my soul and body, where I am who I am with them.

Them.

Who are you?