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Overshadowed by death, one wonders why, Salvation seems so very far away. Disarrayed by realities that lie Among those who cannot avoid the sway. Lead me out of passions and desires past, Outside the gate of my own loathing mind; Where the world’s rotation is much too fast And time has been nothing except unkind. Into your loving mercy my heart flees, Forgiveness found for a soul in havoc. A loving joy beyond all that one sees Conforms the spirit of this maverick. Do not let this be my very last breath Hell’s beckoning upon my blackened death

Tags: otherside,before

Great steaming hoodswah of shooshah and debris. Better be you to maintain your dexterity in silence lest spoil it all, fumbling, fumbling; Drunk cars with dull response, another on the pile; Just two more drinks, then we'll go; lace the first with desire, and the second with cold dilute blood, as the rain shocks you. All bitter details of fleshy incarceration: cars, twisted metal twisted with twisted bone. Slithers of twisted refuse are sharpened by the cold of night. Summer days; a cue-ball dull warmth. This is where I keep my memories, Tipsy by the pool. Dry, slightly fruity drinks and sausage-fat coated teeth. And no one has to drive me home or you home. Dumbed happy minds can retire until Monday. As sticks alight grow in stature and bid safe journey by the pebbled drinkers pond, we alight. Recoiling in bright, too-close headlight shine; today's crash lasted four heartbeats. Head eases forward, and is broken by warm plastic, and cool, laminated glass.

Tags: drink,drinker

I’m sitting here trying to figure out a way to be loved by people...
But all they see inside me is evil
but that’s not me, that’s a demon
something covering up everything I’m feeling
last night I heard a voice
telling me I had to make a choice
to either live and wait or die and rejoice
I chose to live and wait but there were consequences
my life wouldn’t change... the pain would still be endless
I guess my decision came from my disturbed senses
Because if it came from my heart, I would have said die
That way I wouldn’t have to cry every night
And I wouldn’t have to pray that the dark would transcend
And extinguish the light
but my soul isn’t bad, I’m just in a situation of terrible fright
I wish other people could see that
but they think I’m mentally ill
addicted to drugs and pills
but that’s not true
I’m an innocent girl with a free will
confused with a world of people who want to kill.

Tags: the,truth

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

It's a poetic term which boils down to 'return from whence you came'. In the book of Genesis, those are the words of God/Yahweh/Jehovah/Whomever to Adam in the explanation that he was made from the dust of the Earth, and when he died, to the dust his body would return. So it occurred to me that this could very well tie into the idea that the first conscious memory is the last conscious memory.

I haven't spoken to any dead dude or dudettes lately, so bear with me. When you hear people talking about near death experiecnes, they generally speak of a light. Many believe it's the light of heaven, of the Pearly Gates, guarded by Jesus' best friend and confidant, St. Peter the Apostle. As an agnostic, I believe it is the light of truth that washes over you just before the complete decimation of your being. Different strokes.

They say that your first memory is between ages 2 and 4. But what if Birth is your first memory, subconsciously wedged in there as 'I am conscious, I am here, I have begun and it is here that I'll end'. Think about it. You're wrenched from the calming truth of the womb, the wamth and moistness that has been all you knew for a matter of nine months and ejected into the harsh world. Someone snips the cord, and you're aware, awake from that hazy, dreaming state from within, and all around is the sudden glare of light. Unless you were born in pitch darkness, there is a perceptible change in your surroundings, and whether or not your eyes are opened or closed, there's this blinding glare that assaults from beyond, the indelible and irrevocable truth of life.

You get used to it.
You move on, you get older.
You forget. Because in a way, that's what we do as people. We take things for granted. We take the very truth of life for granted, to be blessed with some semblance of a cognitive mind. And that's the truth, because we fear death. We fear death because of the idea that afterwards, there is no consciousness, no us. And rightly so.

The light is there at birth, there when you die, from dust you came, to dust you'll return. Don't take it literally, but the bible is full of the samesuch metaphors, and when you start discerning them you can figure out the meaning of life. No master plan. No destiny or fate. Just you, here, now, living, writing history as it comes.


Anyhow...That's just my idea on the subject. Dwell on it.

Tags: philo,dust,christ