Tag Archives: Emotion

The Slow Drift Away…

The slow
Begins on harsh whispers
Never fully formulated
But ever present in the eyes
Violently screaming the unspoken truth
Oh so loud-
-SO LOUD it’s left creating
The slow



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The Shadow

You walk alongside me day in and day out

Stout and tall like I am

Both knowing and being the darkest part of me

What would you say to me?

Would you judge me for my every action?

Tell me things I am afraid to speak of?

You would be the median to my arrogance or cowardliness at the time

The Yang to my Yin

If only you were able to speak…

The knowledge you probably possess is profound

You have great abilities, such as projecting yourself in more than one direction

Being able to stretch varying distances

Yet you only exist if I do, so I feel like a hindrance

We share the same life but you are the better half in my opinion

Maybe I envy your peaceful existence, and you deserve mine so you can live out life

At times I feel like the shadow of myself, while you were meant to be…the part of me which strong and true.

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Half – Awake

Dwindling thumbs, my brain tingling from rum, I must be dumb
To not know how to present myself
Alas, there I sat on my top shelf
Staring down as I felt – the hands of another running on my leg. The touch shared a vibrant warm, misleading with intentions unknown. Sweet lips, tasty like a ice cream cone. An embrace equal to the oblivious nirvana Budda placed emphasis on. What do I take from this? I don’t know if it’s permanent but I will enjoy this endeavor until the last bell tolls….. DING!

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Tales of a Broken Man pt2

Here I sit in the secluded section of the library as I am baffled by my current predicament. I have been rummaging throughout my music library when I have this assignment due in the morning, not to mention I am scheduled for breakfast at 10. I am in my mind’s eye attempting to create some foresight on the situation and how everything will come together knowing that it is probably unlikely. Yet, you never know…or at least that’s what I believe. The impossible is always bound to happen and you do not have any control over that. This weekend taught me that, you just gotta roll with the punches and make countermeasures according to the pattern of things at the moment. That unpredictability is what gives life it’s spark. Some don’t seem to see that, to conformed to the social standards that we’ve placed for millenniums. Heavy? Yes it is. It is bigger than you and I. We all need answers. I know I am looking for them my damn self, hence why I write. My hypothesis states that by writing, a person can really tap into another part of the soul. So I am going to challenge myself to read more as a declaration for my summer goals before school is back in session. Let’s see how it goes, I’ll keep you posted.

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Tales of a Broken Man pt1

Sitting in this dim-lighted room gazing at the marvel that is this computer seemed to be more than just circuitry. I envision a portal, another plane, a realm where all who enter it can aspire to become anything. A modern day masterpiece it is indeed, yet it is taken for granted. These hands of mine press against the keyboard typing every letter, creating every word, to alleviate the pain I’ve endured through the day. Some people take this realm too lightly. Some enter as they please just for information and go off on their merry way, others share my disposition on the matter. When I’m here, I can become anything, everything, or nothing. It is hard from me to sway away from this feeling of release, the ecstasy from the words I’ve regurgitated back onto the memory banks known as the internet. The only place I feel that I am truly at peace. It is sad, I’ve been in a funk that seems to be unchangeable no matter how hard I scrub. The pungent odor seems to become even stronger as the days progress. Sleep deprivation plagues me, excess school work acts as a deterrent on the happy aspects of life, and I am just consumed in my own angst. Not knowing what I want to strive for, running blindly ahead with my head held high aiming at the sky but I lack the proper foundation to create the staircase to that pedastal that I aspire to stand on in the near future. A blacksmith with all the iron ore in the world and no tools, that is I. I will log it in on this day that I will strive to continue on this path with high expectations and maintain a journal of sorts to share with you all about my adventures through the days, both physical and mental ones. To those of you who share my blight, this shall be our stepping stone for a better you and I. Let’s use this realm we cherish so dearly to voice our opinions, thoughts, and emotions to the world!


Filed under cireryohei

“That’s Not Who I Am.” (8-11 stanzas)

“I get it!”

He yelled from inside the car.

“Sometimes it is hard to take the leap.”

As if through the dreary haze of a dream, I remember something

in fragments

The desert and the canyon.

The hopelessness and the feelings of being lost.

The bitter taste…

“You just gotta let go!”

He flicked his cigarette at me.

“Who are you?” I yell back, my head pounding.

“I am a nobody.

A no one.

Someone undefined as of yet.

The beginning of something new

and that endless possibility of what is to come!”

I shook my head violently.

The signs and the anger drumming in my head were overwhelming.

It all needed to end.

Those horrible images of a pointless life





“That’s who I am.”





“Who are you?”

My eyes widened, flitting from the dark ledge of the unknown

back to the shadowy silhouette of the man with no name.

Sweet existential understanding broke through the clutter of past things.

That’s not who I was anymore.

“I am you.”



I stumbled forward

learning to walk again, gesturing for him to move to the passenger side.

Now was my turn to drive.

He smiled that scary smile.

Scary with all the things that now could be.

I closed the door and he shut his

as he talked of how the possibilities were endless now

life was for me to bend again

through the insight I have gained

in enlightenment.

The past was merely a springboard

from which to launch

with lessons learned

and tales to tell.

Nothing to define the man to come.

That’s not who I am any longer.

I punched the accelerator.

The piece of shit lurched forward into the darkness.

For a moment we flew

Until we


to fall.

Toward a bright





I close my eyes.

Thinking of the metaphor of the ledge.

“That’s not who I am…

…any longer…”



The sun was just breaking when I waked.

Gasping for breath, sitting straight in the uncomfortable car seat.

The little light just beginning was orange, purple and blood red.

It was enough to show me the wide expanse of desert

bathing in the blooming colors, soaking up the first bit of understanding.

I leaned back in the seat letting the heat warm my cold body

resurrecting in a way, allowing me to feel new.

Blinking I reached for my cigarettes,

craving the menthol flavor

to mask the bitter metallic flavor left in my mouth.

After a few drags

I twisted it into the wood paneling

chucked the rest

allowed a deep breath

and a grateful smile

started up the car

and began to drive.

I had many miles to go.

The adventure had just begun anew.



There once was a man, who hated his name,

the history and the definition that came with it.

But that man died-


Leaving behind only a license and a social security number to show he was there.

With those was a note,

written in hastily excited letters:

“That’s not who I am.”



Filed under Mr. Stacker

Love’s war

Naked intuition that leads itself loudly across the room feeling the eminent energy of others. Feelings that are so boisterous, vibrating deeply in the core of your cerebellum. Are these feelings that I feel, resounding fear or great blissful notions of excitement. I must bring to surface these emotions that I hide in the deep cavity of my soul or I will remain mute blind and have no sense of touch.

I need to have a love that is so gripping so powerful that it in itself cannot be explained or fathomed by words, theories or baser notions of explanation. A proclamation that is so loud that hearing it is deafening, seeing it is blinding, and touch it would you bleed for eternity. Can a love like this be stumbled upon or made certain through affirmative action is a question that needs to be answered for the sake of answering.

Shapeless, void less, heartless are things I don’t want to be, empty, shallow, and emotional blind are things that I don’t want to become. And if so should punishable by death for the sake of living no life at all. Passion should bleed out, ambition should be shouted at the top of your lungs because if not you are not the person that you claim yourself to be. A liar of what constitute the inner self that should reflect in the mirror.

Knights have earned love by slaying beasts, by conquering civilizations, by reining triumphant of man in conquest. I too want to earn the love of a woman through such notion to concrete and make certain that my love is absolute in all senses.  May it be so may it be written so that it can sung, danced too and honored by deep contemplative thoughts of other and women that see for thousands and thousands of years. Such passions are seen as weakness and unmanly I say I will slay a thousand beasts, men, and all mythological beasts that challenge my intentions and deliberations.

If love wants to me dance I will dance, if love wants me to sing I will sing. for its reply is my reaction. I will be love’s instrument and play it symphonies, melodies, and notes it demands so. For to be afraid of love in its entireness is losing skirmishes, battles and wars because love in itself is a confrontation and challenge that will always be fought. The question remains however if you are to in vain remove all armor and follow it.


Filed under J.L.Wanderer