Bang

I am the trigger, you knew it
before the solid springs tightened
and the first piece of icy metal was chambered.

and we held on in these black hole streets,
running, metal clanging, legs springing forth
from the surface, manifesting in a sprint
through the heart of dirt, grime, decay, concrete machinations
this is downtown, do not ever forget.
We are sharks here, the moment you stop,
the moment you lose your spring, your step
becomes slow quicksand pulling and taking momentum.
It is not fatigue, the city is tasting you,
ready to swallow you whole. And now, tense,
rigid, the hammer being pulled back, cocked,
frigid springs tightening, ready for the first round,
I am the trigger, you knew it before it all began.

Rainy Eyes

Tonight your eyebrows are dark and furrowed
Clouds, the filling smell of humidity and wet earth came
On the eve of the evening showers, sliding
Down cheeks and quickly wiped away
Just trying to endure the heart of the storm,
Or maybe the other way around.
There is no umbrella, no protection this time
Only the emotional wind tossing you,
Like it cannot decide where you should go,
And the rain slowly hiding the tears
Falling and forgotten amongst the sorrow
Of the city who never sleeps.

New Poem on delirium, and an old rant on the nature of beauty

On the edge of quicksand or quicksilver,
we stop for a moment, to look within at the
nature of causality and other merry nonsense.
We say and we wander without purpose in sleep
and awake, or maybe on the edge
of the fire that burns before it was lit,
of things we convince ourselves are real.
And become real, as we are a form of reality
I think,
therefore I am more certain.
Yet the curtain is crashing, form is forcing itself back in,
on the edge of the morning light.

I wanted to publish this rant on here so it would not only be on facebook. I wrote this 2 years ago I believe.


The true nature of beauty
Some say that beauty is another form of truth, yet I would argue that beauty, by their implied definition, is the exact opposite, it is deception. In fact the only truthful works of art about humans, whether photography, literature, sculpture, etc, are ugly, for that is the heart of man, there is no beauty in mans dark and primal “Heart of Darkness” rather all perceived beauty merely masks the turmoil and imperfection of humankind.

True beauty is raw perfection, which of course is unattainable by humans, and therefore is distinctly inhuman. Therefore any beauty seen within humans, such as true empathy, and self-sacrificing love and the form that is the human body, is not human at all, it is divine.

Yet how can I find beauty to be in anything that is imperfect? That is ugly or crude? That is primal or dark? Because it is truthful, not truth, but truthful about itself. It is honest and unpretentious which is what I would prefer rather than the deceit of what men call beauty, which is selfish and vain. I can find beauty in honesty, whether or not it is perfect. Maybe that is what I have been searching for in my friends and others, I find those who are honest (or I believe are honest) about their shortcomings, and I stay away from those people who seem too good to be true (that is why I dislike david beckham). This is one trait I have to have in my spouse, an unpretentious, raw, honest ugliness. Not that they have to be physically or emotionally or mentally ugly, but rather they have to be human, not raised on any pedestal. I would like them to be slightly beautiful (in the most perfect sense of the word). But I must know that they are human (I know there are no aliens among us, I am just trying to exclude robots, :P )

Meekness

"Souls get trapped,
from time to time, in
fires" His face characatured by light thrown
across his wrinkled, bark-like skin;
Hands clasped for dramatic effect.
Standing there in the midst of the wood:
a leather scarecrow. "And you know how they are caught?"
we shook our cantaloupe heads vigorously.
His weathered, red-coal eyes smiled with mischief
"They go to roam the earth, before returning
from whence we came, and they are so attracted by the heat,
they are mesmerized, and caught in the white flame.
And when that mystical thing happens, the fire
ROARS" He threw some magical dust into the lava's palm,
And it rose up two stories tall, as tall as the pines,
pillar of flame, pillar of burning memories
White hot, and silent.

And now when you stand by the fire,
I wonder, what was burning?
Was it achievements? Was it pride?
Memories? Hope? I do not really know,
but I want to believe that it was love,
I want to believe that this humble, noiseless, ivory inferno
could only have been caused by something,
that burns in so many, for so short,
and burns in so few, for so long.

As Wise as Serpents, as Harmless as Doves

I know that not many people read this, maybe one or two, but I am still nervous whenever I post something. I feel this way even though this is supposed to be just for me creating whatever I can.

You can scroll down to the bottom to get a one-sentence summary, though you will miss some backstory.

One thing I want to share, that I have alluded to in my poems and my rants about Omni-benevolence etc., is my struggle with God. As you know, I have grown up in the church and going to Christian schools. I have always been a skeptical person, from the time I was very little until today. I needed reason, logic, to be on my side, I must have a reconcilable universe. I am usually not one of those people who could hold two opposing beliefs simultaneously and not question either of them.

I tried to shun anything that would lead me astray, I stayed away from girls from elementary school and even through high school because "no good could come of it" according to my parents and coaches, the idea of drinking was anathema until sophomore year of college, and drinking itself avoided until I was 21. I still refuse to do drugs or smoke, just on principle. My whole way of thinking is centered around my upbringing, do unto others as you would have them do unto you. That is still one of the things I live by.

But I have been really struggling with the idea that God exists. Every time I wonder that though, I strongly feel that there must be more than this material world, but then the skeptic in me yells at me saying "that is foolish, you cannot prove there is a god, it is a delusion." And I yell back that I know I cannot prove it, but I feel it must be so. I point to the beauty in the world, the wonder of our mind and photosynthesis, and he promptly explains the mechanisms behind it. Almost every time there is something inexplicable and "magical" that I can say "see God is responsible for that," soon after a reply with scientific documentation comes and shows me the exact mechanism and how it was put into place. There are still some things out there that have defied explanation, the origin of everything is one. That is always comforting as the big bang does not always make sense.

And I think about how I have been blessed with so much, a family, parents who love me, peace, food, I want for nothing. Is it because I am so good? no, is it because my family prayed? Maybe, but there are thousands of people praying to the same God in South Sudan right now, waiting to die from starvation. Why am I given so much? What is the purpose of this? Am I just to be thankful that I am not them? I can pray for them, I can send some aid, but it feels like throwing sand into the ocean. I really do not have an answer. He must have a purpose for all this but sometimes I don't see it.

I started just trying to understand things without assuming that God exists, or does not exist. I wanted to find Him without assuming His existence.

Really that led nowhere, I got a greater appreciation for the world maybe, but that is it. No proof was found either for or against His existence. I should have known this, He is not something that could be measured.

Being with my family had changed my mind. There are some things I will never understand (that is so hard for me to say), even though I want to understand everything, I will never understand Him, it is hard to accept but it is true. I still have those warring voices within me but I feel like I have some assurance that He is real, and really who He says He is, especially with the testimonies of those around me.

But believing something is not enough, if you truly believe that someone is going to suffer in Hell for all eternity for not believing in Jesus, then you should act on it. This is one place I get stuck, I am timid when it comes to asserting myself. Usually I do not try to convince people to believe how I believe. I listen to what they believe, and if they ask what I believe, I tell them. Is this enough? How should I speak and live? Some pastors say things I do not agree with, is that a problem with me? or with them? That scares me sometimes. I need something I am sure of, besides the fact He exists. My time with philosophy deconstructed my beliefs, and now I need something to replace them, this is where I am at right now.

As I grow more mature, I begin to see the human element in churches, and it makes it tough to see God in all this. My main example of a Godly man, is fortunately my father. He is so similar to me it scares me. He went libertarian in college (I have those tendencies), he tends to think rationally and we debate often, we are both honest to the point it hurts, and we both try to be intellectually honest. Not deceive ourselves, but allow the truth to be seen as such, not allow our preconceptions to reject the truth. I want to rebuild my belief system into something strong, something I can hold with intellectual honesty, yet be focused on Him. I need wisdom.

TL:DR I've struggled with belief in God, but I do believe and I want to have a stronger, yet more accurate belief in Him, one that I can act on without fear.

When my parents married, my father was not a christian and my mother was one. When he proposed the only condition she had for marriage, was that he seek after God.

I want to seek after Him.

Only the Fastest

Impaled snails, gurgling and bubbling
cheerfully almost, where you left them
on the palm spikes along the path.
Terrifying monuments of your godlike power
over all things slimy and slow.
A ward against more phlegm-like intruders.

So when you talked so happily of divorce
corporate, separation of business assets
and liabilities: "Lets really screw em!"
I was a little terrified, and not a little glad
to be on the right side

But I really could not help myself
for feeling a little sad
when the latest snail was found skewered like a trophy
on your dinner plate, as we discussed your
latest hostile takeover.

The wannabe comedian

Part of my sense of humor is to be able to laugh at anything and anyone, including myself. Even in very difficult situations I just laugh at myself, others, or the incongruities that are happening around me.

I still remember in football when one of our teammates messed up, did something he should not have, and the coach punished everyone except him. We got down and did more pushups than I could count, while the coach had him watch. This was far more painful to him than punishing just him or even punishing everyone together; it served to shame him.

I still do not know why I did this, but I broke out in shrill laughter in the middle of the drill. Everyone looked at me like I was insane, but I think I was just relieving the pressure, the tense environment we were caught in, the ironic situation we were in: the person responsible was the only one unpunished.

And I still laugh, bitterly many times. I laughed when I felt my ambitions were falling apart. Whenever I do something I later regret, I look back and laugh at myself, not with satisfaction, nor with joy really, just kind of a hollow, tense "well crap" laugh, and I slowly and bitterly smile at the difficulty of the situation.