Friday, April 15, 2011

Is this bro seriously still blogging?

Yeah.  He is still blogging, on a totes serious level.  But only in his own mind.  He travels through layers of the psyche, digs deep into his propane sized 'tank,' of emotions.  He filters through the good times and the bad.  He finds happiness in a life filled with family and friends who love him.  He feels the gifts of truth, brought to him by living, breathing, humming, pulsating subjects, in constant motion.  Physical and spiritual realities mend his conscious.  A being who sees through the eyes of an often conflicted, confused and sad man.  A dude who yearns for more.  He creates elaborate, exciting, "unrealistic," plans for the future.  Then like clockwork, morning, noon and night, he reminds himself, "nothing is unrealistic."  He says, "that *****teener mountain, over's not too high."  He says, "that river, in the canyon down's not too deep."  He's on a quest to find something.  Something eternal, something he once had, the connection or oneness it(he) possibly felt as an embryo.  He's on a journey to slay the dragon.  

He gets in fights with reptilian like creatures.  Stuttering, looking nervous and anxious, he reluctantly describes them as having, "gnarly bulging snake eyes, three sharp horns located on the back, and an array of colors similar to that of a rainbow."  These fights leave him bruised and battered, sometimes with a limp.  Ya see, his knee, it's all fucked up from a motorcycle wreck he got in in the year of 2001.  He doesn't always win, but he always learns something new.  He comes back with new thoughts and new ideas.  New methods of observing himself, others, nature and the relationships he shares with them all. He gains a stronger sense of awareness after every fight, and from every lonely night.  Nursing his wounds he prepares for what the next day may hold.  Thinking of what new types of weapons his enemies might create.  He meditates on life, thinks about a(one) girl, then he closes his eyes and enters his dreams, where shit gets even more serious and crazy.  Then he wakes up, maybe composes a couple of tweets, listens to the latest mp3s and does it all over again.  This is a day in the life.

You think you know, but you have no idea, this is the true life, of

Found this old piece of paper with some of my writing on it.  It kind of goes with the piece above.  I call it poetry, some say it's not poetry, but I write it and I write it for myself, mostly, so I can call it whatever t f I want.

I've been saving all this trash
I don't know where it belongs
I don't want to throw it away
I've got my reasons for this

I'm building mountains of memories from your
Climbing mountains of your cluttered scene
I'm walking backwards down your cynical 
Disappearing through the back of your

There's always tomorrow to peak at the past
There's always your sorrow to share with the future
Don't let it destroy you there's always forever

I'll be down for you waiting from under
I'd read all these books just to write you one letter
I'll be counting my thoughts awaiting the present
I just want you to know I'm breathing for you 


Undizputed by howse

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