THE CRAPPER SPEAKS
Thursday, May 25, 2006
The more I know about life, the less I think I know about it. Here's why:
The perfect pieces of childhood coalsces into a grotesque frame of terror, hate and destruction. Because, even in spite of this, we have one way out; Jesus. The irony is that people know they are hurting inside, yet they refuse the help, the
only help.
Well, time for another little tale from my creative juices:
****
It's been a while, and honestly I haven't been in the best of shape. Has always been one of my weaknesses. My situation is such that I am contented resisting what is wrong, yet deep inside I am not contented keeping the status quo. Don't get me wrong, there is no contradiction. Let me explain it in the form of the theory of the edge of chaos. Neither here, nor there. Stable, yet unstable. It's a sensitive mix. There's still that anticipation and sense of hope if you may call it. It's a messy piece of business. It's a pity when I realise how much courage I lack. So I've laid down my piece, what about yours?--ZackI picked up the scrap of note. It sure felt familiar as ever, and for a moment I pause. Then, taking it by the sides, I crumpled it up and threw it away. A part of my history. I should get going.
****
I can picture the scene perfectly. I feel that personal experiences are always the most powerful pieces of drama we can ever film. But that's only me. Like I said, the more I know about life, the less I feel I know about it. And I don't like seeking worldly solace; they always fail you. Computer games get boring.
Help me climb over this wall that I have built.
Psychedelic;
5:09 AM
CRAPPY
The Poem
A poem is a feeling,
A heartfelt longing,
What makes it good,
Depends on your mood.
A tingling in your heart,
A quick flash of a dart.
A fragment of your life,
The rhythms of YOUR jive.
So ask not from without,
But seek to show out loud,
For this is truly you,
Done beautifully too.
