Thursday, September 12, 2013

My Fate or my Flaws?

This path grows more lonely
Each and every day.
I whisper aloud, "If only..."
Life just never went my way.
My footprints on the road still show
Every doubt and every stumble.
The wind whispers what I can't know.
Clouds above flash and rumble.
The trees hide so many fears
While the rain does what I am not able.
Raindrops fall where there should be tears.
Fitting symbol for this dwindling fable.

I look back on this life
and see all that I've lost.
Other people continued
on the roads I only crossed.
I'm left alone to walk and brood.

I can only glance back and ponder
Was it just this poor man's fate?
Is someone better over yonder?
Must I be content to wait?
Is it by Fate's thread I'm strung
Along this road I walk?
Or is it by my own faults I'm hung
Left swinging for all to mock?

Reluctantly, I trudge along.
Remembering less where I went right
And more where I went wrong.
Darkness enfolds me as dusk turns to night.

How far must I walk before
This black forest is left behind?
Regrets nip at my heels and eat at my core.
Will I find my light or be left blind?
Will she leave me like every other?
Or will she stay and be my lover?
The answers still refuse to come.
So I walk on until this body falls.
Finally, blissfully numb.

Author's Note: I'm finally back after... how many years has it been? As you can see, I'm starting back off with some amateur poetry. An attempt at some meaningful rhyming and a small glimpse into why I titled my blog the way I have. A Solitary Road still feels very fitting.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

To the Artists.

Her hands are steady.
Her mind is clear.
Her world fades.
Music is all she hears
Providing background
For creation.
An image appears
To her mind's eye.
Brush in hand
She lifts colors
From her palette.
Yellows, reds, and blues.
With color she shows
The true self within.
Her heart speaks
Through her hands.
Each brush stroke
Crying out for
The world to see.
Her heart floods
With emotions
As her thoughts
Come to life.
An individual view
From a single person.
Recorded to be shared
With those that care to see
The world through
Different sets of eyes.
Her hands stop.
The brush falls
Down to the tray.
Her message is
Immortalized upon
The white canvas.
Smiling wide,
She admires her
Heart's work.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Antique Feelings

Another day. Another letdown. That's how everything seems to turn out. Now, I'm not so narcissistic to believe life is only like that for me, but damn it, it's the truth.
Every time things seem to be going right, some other crap happens to jump in my way. After oh so many obstacles, a person is liable to either snap or just lose their will to live. Luckily, I'm far too stubborn and thick-headed to ever lose the will to live, but damn life can be tiring.
I always end up wondering if it's all just destiny, or if as humans we just make or break our own destinies. The more I compare, the more it seems, well, both. There's a set path for you depending on what choices or actions you take, but at the same time, there's just so many things you can't control. So, I obviously ending asking the same questions every other human asks themselves. "So what the hell is planned for me?" Am I just meant to deploy to Iraq or some other place I want nothing to do with, just to throw my whole life, and everything I've worked so hard for, straight to the scrapper? Well, I guess that's just the life for a "Dog of the Military."
Oh well, I suppose I should just accept the fact that my insignificant, torn up life was never meant for any greater purpose, but like most every other person, I've always had the ambitions to really make something of myself, leave my mark on the world, make a difference, etc. Yet the farther along this path I travel, the more powerless I end up feeling.
I still have a small glimmer of hope deep within the confines of my soul that I can turn things around, that everything will turn out all right, but I also worry about how long I can keep that spark burning. I highly doubt I'll be re-enlisting. It will already be four years of my life thrown away. Four years of my life away from the people I know, the people I planned on "fixing" my relationships with. Yet now I'm just pushed away from them all, left to wonder what life would be like if I had stayed home.
Sometimes I feel like I made the decision, and I'm better person for it, but I know that's just an illusion. Sure I've learned a lot, and I MAY have found a little direction towards what I really want to do, but I still feel like the same person. More muscular, more confident, but just as screwed up as always. Maybe one day I can find a way to stop fucking over every relationship I truly value, but I have to continue to worry about how my messed up little head will make me hurt another person I love by "running away." Honestly, I don't wish my life upon anyone else, which may be the very reason I try not to get too close to people.
God that almost sounded cool, but if I was in any way a dark, brooding soul, I don't think I would have written down my thoughts for the public to see. Oh well. Fuck it.
At least I'll be able to leave "something" behind. Heh. I guess all I can do is continue to tread along this very dusty, lonely path before me. See you at the next tavern if I can.
Last old post I think I'll be putting up. I think this one may have actually changed a bit over the years.

Meaning of Life.

Here's a few thoughts to wrap your mind around.

What is life? Let's say life is purpose. The purpose is to live.To have no purpose is to have no life.

So if you have no purpose, you have no life, and are more or less dead. So then what is death? Surely something as important as death has a purpose. So then is death also life?

Let's take a minute to think about what a soul is. Is it just a form of energy residing in an empty vessel? Does it even exist? Can a person exist without one? Are there "good" and "evil" souls?

Now, back to life. To have a purpose requires thought. So to have a life, you have to think. Perhaps life is just thought.

So then what is reality I wonder. Perhaps reality is nothing more than thought forms. What we think is what we see. What we see affects what we think. So who started the thoughts that make up our world? How can each person really say they're experiencing their own reality? How is it that it's not someone else's? Because they think as well right? Or maybe the reality they're in tells them what to think and what to believe. Each and every person in this world could be a mere figment of my imagination. Or perhaps I'm just a figment of someone elses imagination.

To think is to live. However, to live is not to think. For if you just think there is no purpose. Purpose is also action. To not act is to not live. So what actions do you take? Does it depend on your soul? Or does it depend on your thoughts?

If it depends on your thoughts, then your actions may be scripted. If it depends on your soul, then how do you define what causes you to act.

All humans act. All humans think (To a certain degree.) All living beings act, and all living beings think. Hence life being purpose and purpose being thinking/acting. But what does thinking and acting get you? Experience. Every thought you have and every action you take grants you an experience. No matter how you look at it, life becomes experience? Experience for what? When you die, will those experiences be forgotten? Or will the souls we claim we have (Or claim we have a lack of, depending on your disposition.) take the experiences to another life, or will the experiences be taken and lost with the souls in a sort of eternal river in the afterlife?

It's safe to say that experiences become memories, memories are stored and thought over. Often times memories lead to action. So memories become purpose. But to have memories requires one to live. If to live is to have purpose, and memories become purpose, then how can one live without memories, and where does one's first memory come from? Does it come before they live, in turn allowing them to live? Or does it come with life, allowing them to continue living and affecting all their thoughts and actions.

To have no memory, is to have no life. Then why do so many people attempt to destroy and repress so many of their memories, as if they're afraid or angry at them. Are we afraid to live? Angry at the life we have?
Well sure, many people have crappy lives. They should be angry or afraid right? But what is anger and fear other than thoughts? So is anger and fear life? But don't those supposed emotions cause us to shun life and squander our memories til we're nothing but rotting empty shells?

Those are some thoughts for you to think on for awhile. I'll continue these another time. There is quite a bit more to be said. Let me know what you think. (Do you think it or is someone thinking what you think for you? O.o )
Another old post.

Just a Word of Hope.

Without hope, there is no regret. However, it's been said that "A life without regret, is a life filled with only unhappy memories." When you take into account that the general saying "Live your life without regrets." is used so commonly, it can send your mind into a tail-spin. So allow me to clarify. Hope is a very painful thing, as is love. However, the two are not only inseparable, but one hundred percent necessary. It's difficult at best to escape either one. It may even be impossible. No matter how much you delude yourself into believing your not capable of either or, there will always be the moment of truth where that little flash of hope or love shines through. True, it may be an impostor in some cases, but hell, lust isn't bad either. (Pretty fun actually.)

On that note, Lust is indeed a form of love, as is obsession, and desperation is still a form of hope. Society has a tendency to take emotions such as these, and make them seem like they're unnatural, sinful, terrible emotions to experience. The smarter or "more enlightened" portion of society realizes how natural and important these emotions are to civilization in general. Without these "negative" emotions, we wouldn't have creativity, the arts, and no ambition at all.

These realizations can't change some people's opinions though. They would much rather throw a "holy" book in your face and call them "illusions of satan" than agree that, perhaps human nature just isn't so black and white. Everything is shades of grey.
I went off on quite the tangent here, but in time you'll see how relative it all is to life itself.
An old post of mine I snagged from years ago. Consolidating all my old stuff here as well. Interesting to see what/if anything has changed. ^^

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Photo Game Poem: 2 (Sweet Memories)

Just a glance at her plate
Carries her mind away
To days of innocent play.
Her mouth waters below
Her twin, teary eyes.
A child's memories flow
To ensure she realize
Those days will not return
She's all grown up now
Few lessons left to learn.
With shaking hands she grasps
at both the treat and fleeting
innocence long passed.
Her mouth opens to take a bite.
A moan escapes from between her lips.
She closes her eyes to block the sight.
Her jaw only manages nibbles and nips.
She longs for those days now lost.
A simple wish to remain upon
that bridge she long ago crossed.
A touch on her cheek snaps her back.
A smile before her face reminds her
That as a child, she once did lack
This love she shares now
With this man beside her.
Together now, they share this snack.
Old memories return to a happy blur.

Photo Game Poem: 1

The people push down the crowded hall.
Their time shared together ending.
Memories of the trip are fading
As their goals emerge before their eyes.
The journey across the sky is safely behind
The bags on their backs.
Their combined relief is palpable.
Loved ones will join and split the travelers.
New memories will be created in new destinations.
Together they defied nature.
With separate lives they will continue.

*Author's note: This photo was taken from a friend and passed to me to see if I could write anything halfway decent about it. Fun little game actually.*