Love

The closest I ever come to believing in Christ, is when I listen to this.

To get what you want, You've got to really fall off your rocker.

There are those out to do great things.
Good for them.
And there are those who have given up on such bullshit.
Instead happy to drink and fuck as much as possible.
To grab what little slice of life they can and ride it to the grave.
With them I happily find my comrades in arms.
But it is those that wait that sicken me,
Curdle my insides like an Irish car bomb.
Those that believe they are destined for some greatness,
It just has yet to come their way.
As though destiny will simply fall in their lap.
Always sitting on the edge of their seat,
Waiting, Anticipating, Sweating,
For a knock on the cliched old door,
But this does not happen!
You will never wake up a changed man,
You will never come to some conclusion in your life,
Or find yourself one day on a grand road to success,
Having somehow failed upwards into glory.
The closest thing to an epiphany you will ever achieve
Is the realization that there is no such thing as an epiphany.
If you want something in life, you have to run after it
Pounce on its back, bite its neck,
Rape it into submission.
A cougar on the hunt,
A schizo off her meds.

New post.

So I lied. Because this is just too damn cool to not have saved on here for me to look at later.
I don't feel like typing up all about what tilt-shifting is, but some very nice people went through a series of van gogh's paintings and applied a tilt-shift mechanism to them, and here are the results. Simply amazing.

http://www.artcyclopedia.com/hot/tilt-shift-van-gogh.htm

Last Post.

This is probably going to be my last post for a long time, 12 hour days at school are taking up all my time.
So I'll leave my couple anonymous followers and one acknowledged follower, and any of you to stumble across this, with this little gem of an interview, by my favorite writer.

Please, No More

Round 1 of the summer poetry tournament (though we near fall?) is to write a simple limerick.
It had to be about a pet peeve, and it had to be funny.

Mine I called 'Please, No More'.

Oh how you mistreat me Protagonize,
You lure me in then feed me lies,
I fall in love with an author’s diction,
To find I’ve wandered into Twilight fan-fiction,
And wake my family with screams and cries.

Why I'll Miss Summer.

I sat in the sand, admiring the beach
And all of life's glories that come to it.
My wandering eye caught the glimpse
Of one of California's great treasures

Gliding past me,
Man, that ass did sway.

It swayed like a palm tree in a cool breeze,
It swung like some low, heavy jazz,
In a dark, candle lit corner
Of a city block, men in buttoned shirts
Women in low-cut, slimming black dress.
Their own asses grooving
In leather-skinned booths,
Filled with laughs, craving cigarettes,
Craving more gin.

Man, what an ass.

But she never looked back.
Probably for the best.
She would never see the great John Ellis Ranger,
Not the musician, poet, conqueror of the world.
No.
Just a dog, wide-eyed and grinning like an idiot.

Epiphany.

"Life is a path, lit only by the light of those I've loved" - Johnny Cash.

It's sad that it takes so much horrendous news for one to have such a simple epiphany about life.
It wasn't until I was breaking down, and the handful of people I could talk to about it were asleep (or refusing to talk to me at 2am) that I fully realized even with all my friends, I am still truly alone unless I let people in, and love them back.

That's always been the hardest word for me, and when people say it to me my usual response is to awkwardly chuckle, and say 'ok'. Or if asked if I love them, my response has habitually been 'no'.
I'm not one of those damn silly hippies that can run outside and claim to love everybody, that's just not possible and defeats the whole purpose.
However, for all of my friends that have been there for me these past years, to have my back through all my weird shit, and not be afraid to joke or poke fun of it after, I am proud to be able to say that I love you all.

Blu is back!

New video by blu! Simply amazing.

Legitimacy.

What is it that I feel -
Have I ever truly felt?
Not sorrow nor anger to
Begat happiness and joy?
Have I truly known despair
- or heartache?

Have I any knowledge
of the pain it takes to be human?
Of wandering, and emptiness,
The vile trappings of complacency - ah,
There I am king.
But I have never been truly starved,
Nor hungry for any but
The feel of simple legitimacy,
To know the feel of living.

My Great-Uncle.

R.I.P. Harry Karl Smith
May 3, 1919 - July 19, 2010

Sailor, Teacher, Mechanic, Blacksmith, Carpenter, Plumber, Contractor, Speaker, Pilot,
And one of the nicest and most respected men I've known.
Your body is at rest, but you will live on in our hearts and memories, in the actions you've taken and in the lives you've touched.

Beach Tour begins!

One of my bands, the Zygotes, begins its beach tour this month!

The coming white.

Cold and battered,
the sun screamed out its final lamentation,
Before all was washed away,
in the coming white

The room lost its glow,
and my skin split back to its graphite hairs
Throwing out my last shadow,
against the coming white

I was left standing,
no view left on these barren walls
You stole the colors when you left,
and walked out to the coming white



This poem was from Protagonize. I wrote it on a thread called 'picture inspired poetry game', wherein people posted a picture and others would write a poem based off of it. I wrote this off of a simple pen and paper drawing of a man standing against a wall.

Thought we were through with this.

I hate to rant about personal shit, but this is my blog and I need a space to rant for a while.
My mom'd just finished dealing with ovarian cancer, it's only been half a year. She went through test after test, and went to extraneous radiation just to make sure everything was fine, and in the end the doctor told her she has nothing to worry about.

She's since switched doctors. Getting a lump checked out on her leg (turns out just a hernia), the doc told her to get a chest x-ray while she's at it.
Now they've found that she has cancer again. Lung. Fucking. Cancer.

God dammit, if you're treating somebody for cancer, shouldn't it be part of your duty to check out their entire body for any more signs? How can you let that totally slip by, to be caught in just some random ass checkup?
I feel so bad for her, she's went through so much shit last year, and now she has to go through it all again.
Thankfully this time she'll go into it otherwise relatively healthy, unlike last time where she started it right after a massive surgery.
But still, how the fuck was this not caught earlier?

New Wind

Yesterday I managed to reach another of those points where you step outside of yourself for a moment and give yourself a good look. I realized that I've been holding on to so much anger the past few months, that it's been slowly dragging me down. I haven't even been able to get a good grip on what's going on all around me, and I have a lot of good changes recently.
It's moments like these where I'm finally able to stop for a second, take all that anger, and drop it. To forget all transgressions to the best of my ability, and forget all that I feel people owe me, and all that I feel I owe other people. To forgive everything that's been grating against me. I just let it go.

It felt like my lungs were re-inflated with air, the proverbial weight lifted off of my chest. I could breathe clearly through my mouth and one working nostril, and for the first time in too long I tasted the air and marveled at the simple beauty around me. I've jammed with a few people since then and I'm finally able to improvise and come up with good new material again.

I'm entering a new chapter in my life, I have a fresh start coming to me in every angle, and I am excited.

N3rd P03m!

This wasn't written by me, it was instead written by the author of a little webcomic I follow, 'Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal'.
He wrote it for his wedding, and then put it on his site.
Being as I write poetry, and am a total geek, I figured I'd post it on here, so, here it is.

Opposites attract, it's said
We nerds have reservation
In point of fact, some are instead
Monopoles, like gravitation
Our chemistry is built on brains,
Devised like DNA,
Our bond is strong as phosphate chains
He is T, and she is A
Though not always harmonic
Like 1 per n summed sure is
We're decreasingly monotonic
(Our sum always converges)
Today we vow to do our parts
For optimal marriage fitness
To reside in one another's hearts
Like Dirofilaria Immitis.

-Zach Weiner

Damn.

No longer in the poetry tournament, and just when we were about to go to the round we have to write a ballad, too.

Ohhh Shit

My mind is blown.
This just put me in tears from laughing so hard.
No more facebook; I have to post on here.

Round Twooooowhuagh

I've been stressing this poem out all week long.
This time around, what we had to do was make a poem of alliteration, and each poet was given a letter. I was in the first group, with the letter 'b' (I think this is because I did not fare as well on the last round, and the harder letters are for more skilled poets).

It was actually a lot of fun, I sat down and read the dictionary for the first time in years, reading over all the B words. I came up with dozens of different stanzas but was having a very hard time finding anything that stuck. I finally got one with a good flow, and managed to sit down and write it, but not until today, Saturday. the day of the deadline. I really cut it close. It came out well at least, and I know i've beaten at least one competitor i'm directly against. Mine's way better. Let's hope the critics agree.


So here's my poem.

'Alabaster Beauty'

Broken, bruised and blue,
Bled the sky between
Our barren brethren,
And I - bereft,
Believed it to be
Behooving of me to
Bear the brunt
Of that blaspheme,
Brought down by our
Beleaguered brethren.

But before my bifocals,
Beaten but beating,
A brazen beam burst
Forth from the bosom
Of that alabaster beauty.

Bicuspids blare a ballad,
Brickwork boast their brawn,
A buck brays in the brush.

Oh! What benevolence
Could be brandished by
That brilliant behemoth,
Burning back that
Bindweed I have battled -
Borne out of my own
Blinding and bloated brain.

Seconds

Tic... Tic... Tic...
Second by second,
Every fleeting moment strikes you
You run, play, scream,
You fight, dance, fuck,
Contemplate your life,
Wallow in self pity,
Reminisce on victory,
All in the pass of time.

Tic... Tic... Tic...
Second after second,
Take a break from school,
Grab a drink after work,
Escape on vacation,
Read a book,
Watch a film,
Deal with anything else,
The clock is still counting.

Tic... Tic... Tic...
Second passes second,
Take a stand,
Make a change now
Find yourself and fight,
Take each moment and make it count
Because time will not stop
And the world will move on,
Each second is one day closer to the final curtain.
This is it.

Tic... Tic... Tic...

Frightening

http://www.infrastructurist.com/2010/04/29/how-much-time-do-americans-spend-on-elevators-a-ton/

Read that article. Look at the graph. Those numbers aren't days per year or hours per month. That is Years. Across a lifetime.
NYC is at 22.5! Twenty two and a half years! that's older than I am right now. Over a quarter of the average person's life.
Granted, NYC is pretty much a city of elevators,, but if it were possible for the study to be expanded to beyond simply standing and waiting to get on or off an elevator, the number's would be comparative across the country.
A quarter of your life, to simply get in or off an elevator. A quarter of your life, simply waiting to get somewhere.
That's just elevator time.
How many hours of your day, years of your life is wasted on simply waiting for something to happen? For a day to come? Anticipating an event to take place? Fantasizing all of the different little events that may or may not transpire at that moment.
And finally, as that moment comes, you've both built it up so much that it lets you down, and then you're also spending your time anticipating a still further moment.

Stop waiting, stop wasting time.
If you want something to happen, odds are it's all on you, so go out there and do it.
If you can't control the situations of it, then stop worrying about it, it will come in due time whether you want it to or not.
And if you're going to go down, go down with guns blazing.

Odd dream last night.
I was in a building with a lot of people, when somebody with the same name as me came in, shot and killed everyone, including myself. I'm not sure if he killed himself after.
It was reported on the news, and they named the killer, having the same name as myself.
Ghost me was still hanging around for whatever reason, and watched as everybody I knew assumed that the killer was actually me, and that I'd finally snapped. Everybody talked about me, some were shocked, and some claimed it made sense, while I was unable to correct anybody or say anything about it.

Maybe my dreams are telling me i've got too much anger inside, and it's wrecking everything that I have going for me.
Maybe my dreams are just expressing the fact that nobody knows what my true intentions are, or understand me.
Or perhaps it's just because of the comments written on my poem for the tournament, and how they didn't understand what I was going for, and I'm completely unable to explain myself which is really irritating - of late i've been trying to express my intentions more openly, in the hopes that others would understand and follow suit, so i can know what they're doing, but that's been having no results as of yet.

So I'll just explain my poem on here, as I'm the only one that reads this, but at least it helps to write things out, and at least I can track what i've written on here...
People were writing it was more depressed than hopeful, but that's I think hope is a very slight thing. If it were stronger, that would just be optimism. Hope is that thin lining of the sun, finally showing on the horizon after a long night. But that's too damn cliche to put into a poem, so I had to write about it in some other way. Apparently I should've just gone with the cliche, and probably receive better reviews, because writing a prose-poem seemed to piss one judge off, and he only gave me a 59/100. Motherfucker. I know I copped out at the end, but I would've given myself a 65.

Still, I cannot wait for the next round to begin.

Metaphors

I rushed out of my house a few days ago, and accidentally put on my dad's shoes. I stumbled, stepped out of them, put on my own ones, and headed out to my car - all the while cursing while realizing that I'll literally never fill my father's shoes, and that my life is one giant fucking metaphor.
This got me thinking about how many metaphors there are in the world that we never even realize, going on all around us.
Some of them are in events, such as the message from the Coyote last week (still believe in that stuff), and everything happening in the little valley area the Zygotes would jam and live in, but I don't feel like going in to all of that.
Instead, I figured I should try and write a little list on here from my physics class.

This is the reason I took physics in the first place, there's a lot from it that transfers over into the real world in some way or another. These are mainly just quotes from my professor that I love:

1) Standing still is the same thing as moving at a constant speed. The only time you spot a difference is in change of speed or direction.

2) Magnetism is just charge in motion.

3) 'A moving clock runs slowly' - Probably sounds a lot deeper than it really is.

4) a quote from Einstein, testing one of his theories. A journalist asked him, 'what if it didn't work?' he replied 'Then I would have felt sorry for God'.

5) Time is the suspect

6) The only thing you see is light.

7) 'I'm going to do it my way. I'm going to do it with a laser'. < my favorite thing he's said all semester.

8. Entropy screws up everything. The longer you wait the more things fall apart. You have to work hard to keep it together.

9. Any change just takes pressure and time.

10. 'Heat Death', the end of the universe. Once all heat has been transferred equally across the universe, and all change ceases to exist.

11. To change momentum, add an impulse.


I didn't realize how many odd little stanzas I'd filled my book with as well. A lot apparently influenced by one foolish girl.

So I'll list them as well, front of my book to the last page of the semester.

1) 'You never laughed like
When you saw me try to dance.
That's when I knew
You were for me.

But that's when you said
You were afraid of a bitter end.
And before I could speak
You would scorn me.'

2) Will you take my heart,
Make it beat again?

3) Was it the inflection in my tone
That sent your tires screeching home?

4) I don't want our dreams to be
When you see the things that I see
I want our dreams to be
The only time you might miss me

5) Maybe it's all just frequency
But when you beat I breathe
When you think I see

6) I'm sick of doin' nothin',
But doin' nothin's where I sit
Because I'm angry about somethin'
But I don't know what it is.

I rode down to the liquor store,
Bought some tonic and a thing o' gin
Maybe that makes me an older man
But buyin' beer's just buyin' piss.

High by high noon, now ain't that clever,
Somebody said that I'm gonna die.
But who the hell wants to live forever,
So will you please hand me a light.

7) But now you're gone,
And it's time to decide,
Better to be shot through the heart
Or between the eyes?

8) When I was a child I dreamed I was a bird,
I'd swing my arms and I could fly.
If I stretched them out I could hug the world,
I would stretch my arms far as I could reach,
If I stretched myself I could touch the sky.

9) So you thought you could take me down,
Boy I bet that thought must've been pretty,
Don't you know I was born underground,
Now I'm takin' you back home with me.

But you'll never catch me.
Because I'm the blue-eyed devil.

10) Why do I always dream
Of shooting zombies

11) It was a silent grey day
With the clouds hanging low,
Morphine was dripping
Off the radio

12) Oh, happiness
Where is it that you've gone?
Have you slipped through the back door
To leave with the setting sun?

13) It sounded like a metaphor,
But I had no idea what it meant,
She caught on and flashed a grin
And I dumbly nodded my head

14) How do you look when you are alone?
When the song has died and the lights have gone?

Do you stare at bruised clouds
When the night hangs long?

But you’re just doing that trick where you turn around,
Embracing yourself, hands caressing your back - your neck,
It was the heat of passion
But from the front you’ve never looked more alone.

I saw a picture of you, livin’ it up in a bar
Hanging on your friends, dancing around upon the table
You were screaming and laughing
But I could see that look in your eyes

Were you really there, or are you back in your room,
Staring at the clouds, as the night hangs long?

How do you look when you are alone?
When the song has died and the lights have gone?


This is a pretty solid list, I think I'm covered for a while for inspiration on poems actually, these can all lead in to some song or other.
This is turning into a pretty solid month. I think after all the BS of April I'm starting to get some inspiration again.

Yellow Banana Jumpsuit

This is the poem turned in for my first round in the Poetry Tournament on Protagonize.
It's all supposed to be anonymous, but nobody reads this so I figure I'll put it up. I hope i didn't leave a link to this page somewhere.

I kept my other post blocked because I didn't want word about it until now.

But, this has been an exhilarating challenge. Can't wait for round 2, i haven't been kicked out yet.

Yellow Banana Jumpsuit


It’s a Small World After All.
That’s what I was thinking of,
Humoring myself as
I gazed out the window.

Fancying the bus to be
Some wild Disney ride,
That the people still waiting,
Instead of being so damn glum -

Beaten down, tired eyes
Casually pondering the
Fabric of their shoelaces -

That they would instead
Sing and Dance and Wave,
All together chanting
That ceaseless chorus
Which bores into your head like
Some giant, unswattable Mosquito,
Drilling in to lay its unholy egg,
Otherwise referred to as
‘It’s a Small World After All’.

With a lurch,
The bus rolled forward,
And from a slight turn,
I caught my own tired eyes
Looking back into me
From the rattling,
Plastic and iron window.

I was brought unfairly
Back into my own reality,
Heading home from the
Santa Ana Central Jail.

My friend had been laughing,
Saying he’ll be out Tuesday,
And I laughed back at him,
Though we both knew,
He’d be going nowhere,
While deep down I knew
That I might as well be
Sitting right there with him,
Dressed in a pretty,
Yellow banana jumpsuit.

I may be on the outside,
But you don’t need
Walls to trap a dog.
You give it food.
You give it shelter.
You give it a routine.
And however stale the meal,
And however cold the house,
And however hard the day,
That’s where the dog will go.
That’s what the dog will know.
And he is yours,
Before he could ever run away.

And so Santa Ana is my prison,
With nothing to do, nowhere to -

‘What are you thinking?’

‘What?’ I blink, and
Facing me is a pair of
Perfect hazelnut eyes,
“What are you thinking?
You look like a puppy,
That lost it’s way home’.

What was I thinking?
‘Oh, nothing important’.
She gives the tiniest
Curve of her lip,
And I give mine in kind.

Has this woman been
Sitting here the entire time?
She’s still smiling.
Say something, stupid!

And in the very back crevasses
Of my mind, something itches
Waking to remind me
That perhaps,
There is still good.

Poetry Tournament

Today marks the start of the Spring Poetry Tournament on Protagonize.
Needless to say I am excited.
For the first challenge, due by Sunday, the challenge is that each participant is given a word, and the poem has to be about the word, and instill or invoke the feelings of said word.

My word is Hope.

I can't think of a better word to be given. I'm going to have to do some brainstorming now, because I don't want to lose this thing, especially in the first round. I have a lot to think about to throw in to it lately, from something completely symbolic like the Coyote who crossed my path, to the sudden explosion in musicianship. I'm now the bassist for the Zygotes, after a badass jam in the basement of a broke-down, abandoned, condemned building in the middle of nowhere. Next I jam with an art-rock kind of band on Sunday. I also might start another side project with a couple friends.

But the poetry tournament will still stress me out, I'm up against an interesting mix of people, form 16 year olds (albeit ridiculously talented), to people in their 40's, to middle school teachers.
I wonder which person I'm up against in the first round. I hope it's not Archi or Alipix. Alipix is a newcomer too, so newcomer's might just be pitched against each other. But Christ, she's good.

So let's see how this all turns out,
I'll start posting the poems as I write them.

Coyote

Today As I left class a coyote crossed my path. The biggest and most handsome Coyote I've ever seen.
He was chased by two birds, as he ran right in front of me.
Nobody else saw him.
This felt like a sign, so I went home to look up what a Coyote might represent.



'The Coyote is a clown in the natural world, and in many Native American tribes view the symbolism of the Coyote as that of trickster, shape-shifter, and transformer.
The Navajo never kill Coyote because of their belief that it accompanied the first man and woman into the entrance of the first physical world.
Also, in the same myth, the Coyote brought with it seeds of life so as to sew new growth upon the new world. This legend depicts the Coyote as a bringer of life and a new birth symbol.
However, the Shoshoni believed the Coyote to be the bringer of death. The sighting of the Coyote was said to bring natural disasters such as illness, floods and harsh winters. This was not viewed as something to be feared - rather it made way for new beginnings. Essentially, the Coyote was the "way-maker" of new direction as it went about its symbolic role of completing the cycle of life in nature.
The Coyote tells us to be mindful of our actions - be wary of playing tricks on ourselves or others. Coyote also reminds us that the consequences of our actions effect more than just ourselves.
The Coyote comes to us with a message that only by learning from our mistakes will we ever be free from shackles/restriction.
This wonderful creature also reminds us that no matter what form we take (as we "shape-shift" our personality) or how many difficult situations we may find ourselves in - we must always take time to laugh.'


So animal symbology may or may not actually mean anything to the world. But that the Coyote represents the death of one and the beginning of a new, and to never forget to laugh, is fairly apt for everything happening in my life today.

Flesh

I like taking my conceptual physics class just for fun. What I wind up doing is taking a few words out of what topic he's discussing, and trying out a poem. It usually winds up completely different than how I expected, but usually quite pleasantly.
Today's topic was magnetism and electric fields, in case you couldn't tell.






We felt to wander through the night;
We could smell the coming rain,
There was no-one else in sight;
No rules and no restraints.

Simple energy, Charge in motion

That's when the lightning broke,
The wind and rain came hitting hard,
A branch crashed down off an oak,
So we cut across a yard.

Magnetic, Pure vibration

We came upon an abandoned school;
Where knights and dragons roamed no more,
Knowing now what we'd come to do;
We broke inside through the back door.

Electric current, Undulation

That's when I took you, in those empty halls,
Lovecraftian verses enscribed on your arms,
You walked to me, your skirt falling back to the floor;
Bare moonlight on your naked flesh - you nearly glowed

Atomic matter, Raw Attraction

I had you in the night, our heat pressed to the marble floor,
I bent to kiss your sweat; the tinge of salt was warm,
Your ragged breath drew in, your nails dug in my form,
All in tune to the drum of the pounding thunderstorm

All we are is charge in motion

I'm moving

I'll still post on here occasionally, especially when I write a story that I really like. But I'm moving to protagonize.
www.protagonize.com/author/jeranger .

it helps me connect to other writers a whole lot more, but this place will then remain my little quiet online sanctuary, with my only two readers :).

Undertow

It was when I stood there in the night
Watching madmen in the light
The fire cast upon them shone
In the demon's cackling tone
And in their eyes I saw that fight
And in their eyes I saw my home

With waves crashing over my head and where
My body screamed out for the heat of the flare
My mind still relished the murderous cold,
Pain and retribution for my atone.

They call to me 'come back, come back!'
And the shadows contort their form to black
My breath escapes, the silver fingers of my heart
Grasp for freedom in the dark
The light goes dim, is the fire out?
And in the distance I hear them shout
But the cold embraces and from within
I feel the waters' deep beckon me in.

I turn to face you - I see you weep
And as I swim, I kick, I feel the deep
it grabs me, holds me, beats me 'til
I hear it cry 'be still, be still',
And a saline pain becomes my fill
While the night - so stark- falls truly dark


My clothes slack off, and from a slit
I see blue skin contort and twist
I hack, I cough, and cast it out
that vile salt and deathly clout
The fire and its gaze call home to shore
Returning from the eternal black
I recognize your face once more -

You've brought me back

Romanticism and Haikus

Make me want to vomit.
Why is it that whenever I try to find real, stark, honest poetry and prose,
I always stumble upon Romanticism and Haikus?

Give me blank verse
Give me ballads
Give me free verse
Give me epics

Give me stories about lust, about hate
About torture, lamentation, despair,
Love, pain, sex, skin
Singular moments in one's life
Poems that put you there, in the scene, in the action.

Do not write about the beauty of a simple flower,
A haiku about bees buzzing by,
Do not coddle me with the simplicity of a cloud

Clouds rumble, they scream out, they clash, they breathe,
They contort and twist and they anger,
They fire
They do not drift.

I do not know what grade school education does to the soul of Man, but I'm lucky I somehow escaped.
'Meet the Masters' destroyed my interest in art, any feeling into the heart and soul of the artist, any grasp of expression
Orchestra destroyed my confidence in myself, my love of music,
my ability to look at sound as an expression of what words cannot.
Literature classes killed my view of writing as a pure escape of the soul, to express freely, to put down my thoughts on paper with no worry about consequence.

If you cannot teach art, music and literature as it deserves to be taught, then simply claim it is all the Devil, and let the children find it themselves.

So do not give me your idle haikus, and thoughts upon a tree,
Give me what challenges me as a human being, what makes me learn, and grow, and feel.

Between the Tic of Every Second

So I've written the end of this song so far, still working on the rest, trying to come up with an idea of how to lead in to it. It's coming out more angry than I expected, which is fun.
I'm embarrassed at the quality of it at the moment, and the flow doesn't make sense. Hopefully it will once all is done.


But between every breath, and
Between the tic of every second,
When I look in your eyes
I see the fire returned in mine,
when I look in your eyes I see
Everything that should be,
When I look in your eyes I see.

So When I look at you I laugh,
Because I don't know if the lies
Come from your eyes
Or from your mouth...

So there lay the riddle,
Of your heart I can't unlock,
When you say goodbye do you
Want me to chase you,
When you say hello do you
Expect me to walk?

Meaning of Life

Meaning of Life

The way it sees to me, a lot of people overthink what the meaning of life is, or believe that its some great mystery why we’re here. I think its actually a very simple message, as simplicity seems to be what works best in life. To me, the meaning is simply to Live.

Going through life day after day sitting in a cubicle filing papers, then coming out and getting drunk, hating the week, living for the weekend, is not what I believe living to be.
To live, you need to always keep that inner child alive and strong. That’s the goal for me. Once that child inside of you dies, then what’s life worth living for? That child is the essence of all wonder, of adventure, of fun, of love, of excitement. When you let that child starve to death out of stagnation, then what are you doing on this planet? This world has so much to offer, on every plane of existence, how can you sit there and miss out on it all?
Stars are born, stars collapse, galaxies collide, seas rise and fall, mountains climb up and crash back to the ground, animals evolve, nations spread out and fade away, wars explode, lives are saved, disaster strikes, miracles occur, people fall in love, people get married, cripples learn to walk again, children are born, victories are achieved, people fulfill their ambitions, businesses open up, books are written, food is loved, music is made, and in the middle of all of this, you are here. So why would you sit there and do nothing with your life?

Go outside, take a risk, make a new friend, approach that girl you find cute, change your pattern, lay in a park, open your eyes, walk to work, take a new route home, live, laugh, love and learn.

Don’t hold back.

You’re only given this one life to experience, so make this life as good as you can make it.

Blue-Belly

I remember you as a boy,
The golden glint in your eyes a reflection of the sun.
Look, dad! and you held up your hands to me,
Palm cupped over palm,
Leaves circling around your feet - a dirty twister.
Your fingers curled back, and there it was.
Shining, coiled, content,
The lizard slept in your hands,
Completely unaware of the powers around it
You whispered I think it’s a blue-belly,
I picked her up and she never ran away.
Its because you’re warm I told you.
She likes the heat, it gives her strength for when the time comes.
When the time comes?
When the time comes. To fight, or to run, or to eat little scoundrels like yourself.
I tussled your hair and you ran back off to play in the trees.

Sometimes, the things I best remember are the things that never come.