Tag Archives: Realization

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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In the quiet night I find no peace in my thoughts just rhetoric that dances in my mind of what I was taught and what I was trained to do, be a capitalist. I have always been on the chase for dreams that have not quite come yet or answered me so far in the quest for riches in my life as a man. Am I man or am a number waiting for my ticket waiting to be cashed in by greater men than I. these men that see potential or a spark that shines brightly to them but what currency am I really. 

I have learned at least a couple of valuable things in this quest and these are; speak only when it’s of absolute importance and have resolve in action that is carried out. Ah but the quiet one I am not the dance of silence is not one I have learned quite yet in my life and enduring the task to do so is killing me on the inside. I can’t breathe any longer for any other person in this short existence that I have in this world it’s too short and too meek to count. 

At the green age of nine I can count myself as a man and can look other men in the eye and say I am a man. In a world of appearances however I have fallen very short which racks my mind to utter ridiculousness. Casting stones is not the same as making them skip in the great lakes Ontario to be specific where I have lived my sheltered sad existence where no breathing is allowed and dreams can only be a whisper among others to be counted among the normal people I wish I was but I am not.

If a large man is a tool I am the biggest one of all, to be utilized and put to the test but with a man who desires more than to be just a tool this were I find my dilemma. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should and just because I’m strong doesn’t mean I should do more. We as human forget we have a design and plan that is far superior to numbers however make ourselves numbers ones to be counted as one.  

So here is the big question I implore then; when are we machines and when are we just animals and hell when are we human?  Have we ever asked ourselves that really? In my life however I refused to move much with much restraint I have for it’s the fear of moving exists in my mind because of the fear of losing my spirit that breathes and is at a lifeline right now.  Tracks and trails hmm I like trails and prefer them because at least I can at least be a little surprised where I’m going. what my plans are not always so profound and concrete to me because rails of a track that move us forward are really bars and restraints that we place on ourselves to get to the inevitable conclusion of success. Tracks can be a prison you can never escape in the altruistic capitalist that exists in all of us.  It’s funny though in the end it’s all for a pad on the back when you really think about.  

I’ve always been a rebel however because I refuse to make a want a necessity and to connect to people that are not connected at all refuse to be only mere acquaintances to does that make me an anomaly or just a disconnected person to already disconnected people. so many rules even in a casual conversation and conventions to follow in procedural friendships could make a man go completely insane and want to vomit at the idea of performing.  I’ve always been a performer too because I need that social no matter how dull and lifeless it really is in a world of chasers and believers you have or be casted out and stoned to death, hmm socially anyway. 

I guess I’m talking to the individuals out there that are confused really I’ve been for most of my existence. Don’t get me wrong I have a great life to normal standards but standards are just an illusion to keep us distracted from a reality that really exists in our minds and that is whatever we want it to be.  I don’t apologize and I’m not sorry and if I am rambling then fuck off, I’m just me and the world just going to have to get used to it. 


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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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Austere View on the World



The Empty Spaces cry.

The all or nothing type of refugees

running for shelter

as the bombs fall down.

They fall right through the metallic umbrella

exploding any idea of a brave new world.

Catching a-light the gasoline soaked rain drops.



An inferno of insane laughter

that’s driven everyone underground.

The laughter

and the song of yesterday

all buried in the underground.

Leaving behind the buried ones addicted to cheap whiskey and cigarettes

and the rejection letter from god.



Can there, will there, ever be the Blue Sky

or will it always be the Ever-Inferno burning?

Our hearts being baptized in misery

and our dark humor turning us into uncivilized apes.

Should we, could we, just say, “Goodbye Blue Sky!”

and let the pain linger on?


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“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.”



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