Two Dead Boys...

One bright day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight.

Back-to-back they faced one another,

Drew their swords and shot each other.

One was blind and the other couldn't see,

So they chose a dummy to referee

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

And came and shot the two dead boys.

If you don't believe this lie is true,

Ask the blind man -- he saw it too!

I remember first reading this poem in high school. Immediately I tried to disassemble it to find the meaning, but in the end I realized that there was no meaning. All of the phrases are contradictory..
I don't know what I love so much about this poem but I know that the darkness of it somehow calls out and draws me in. It has an edge of creepiness to it I guess.. but don't we all?

Unaliable Truths

Hope is a funny thing. Sometimes it eludes you… and other times it hits you with a force like a tidal wave. In the last few days I have felt both…strongly than I have in a long time, stronger than I have ever imagined. Like being whipped around in rip tide… Its strange in that sense. Like for some unknown reason I was to be challenged. Pushed to my limit. But as always it seems that my limit is just out of reach. Instead of breaking against the rocks of a craggy shore, I surface from the water. I sputter and gasp for air, knowing that each breath I take only solidifies the fact that I am alive. My breaking point was just beyond my reach, like the distant shore. I knew my struggle to reach it would only tire me and lead to my end. In my subconscious I wanted to break only to know that nothing could bother me anymore. If I was broken, nothing could hurt, there could be no pain. Then I realize that to feel is human…

Thoughts, and perceptions have been hard for me to voice lately. Like a gag is stuck in my throat, keeping me from saying what I think, and what I should. I have been unable to write as if someone had mutilated my hands so that words could no longer flow from them. But now things are slightly clearer. I can speak if only in a whisper and my hands once again have the strength to write out the simplest words. Like an inmate seeing the sunshine after incarceration I rejoice… instead of celebrating freedom however, I rejoice in my quick tongue and fluid hands. These symptoms were the result of a fear. I am still not sure what that fear exactly is, but it does not seem so crippling now.

Some people say that 18 years of a person’s life is spent, growing into the person they will be. I don’t believe that. I believe the person you will be varies from day to day, you just happen to carry along the baggage and lessons of youth, adolescence and adulthood. A person grows every second. The human mind has a capacity to learn new reactions and lessons in the time it takes to take a deep breath. Therefore, we do not only grow every second, but we also are carrying along past experiences to help us to better deal with the future. There is no growth into the person you will become. Saying “You are growing” or “You have grown” or “Such Growth” makes it seem as if there is no choice. There is always a choice. We do not grow into the person we become… we are that person every second of our lives.

For the longest time I have found it hard to be happy. Not in a sense that I was depressed, more of numb. Happiness for me is not easily achieved. Some say that laughter is the medicine of the soul. No the shallow giggles of a love struck school girl, or the barking laugh of an old man; but the eye rolling, breath taking, gut ripping, tear jerking hysterical laughter of the truly free. I experienced this last night. Laughter truly is medicine. Not only did I feel more relaxed and calm but suddenly the fear I was chained by seemed to loosen its hold around my heart. As I wiped the tears of joy away from my eyes for once, I realized that as long as I could laugh, whether AT myself, or WITH myself, It would all turn out okay.

Sunrise

Today I watched the sunrise. I don’t know why, but today I felt like I should be there. To see the sun streak across the horizon filling the new day with its golden light, chasing away all of the fears of the night before. I watched as it slowly crossed its way over the treetops glistening and golden. The bluish tint of the sky grew lighter and lighter as I watched… it seemed to beckon to me, telling me the secrets of the world. I felt compelled to watch as the light rose from the deepest pits of the night. The hands of darkness seemed to reach out and fade as the sun drove them back. The sunrise seemed to take longer than I expected, washing away all of the fear and doubt I was holding in my body…

You must never judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins… This phrase hit me as I watched the sun leak across the sky. Why would someone want to spend time in the night of someones life, when the day was so glorious? When the fear and doubt of the moon clawed its way from the depths and controlled the soul and body? Why not see someone’s life in the light? I wish I would have wanted to see the sunrise earlier in my life, maybe I would feel differently. Maybe I would be able to forgive myself.

As the sky gradually began to lighten I felt a fear. I felt that if I didn’t see the gradual change in time that I would somehow miss out on an important lesson. I feel like I should be here, in this moment, watching the sunrise, as if for the first time. I don’t remember any sunrise before this one, and in a way I regret that. I wish I could remember feeling this way before but somehow I don’t believe I have.

I don’t know why I suddenly got up from my bed to watch the sunrise. I don’t know why I feel I have to write this, maybe its because I know something now, that I didn’t know before. Maybe now I am open to seeing things as they are not as they should or could have been. Even as the claws of sleep bat at me, I am forced to watch the sky lighten… like I am forced to unlearn some lesson from long ago, but somehow over the passage of time I had forgotten.

I had once told someone that I was a night person...but now I am unsure. The trees are not alive in the night, the flowers petals are closed to the assailing darkness. I am not a night person. I was meant to live and walk in the day time. So is everyone else. I cannot live my life in the dark. And I cannot live in a cage. That is where I was. In a cage, housed and treated as an animal.

The birds sing their songs to the light, beckoning its rays to caress their lives. To some it signals the passing of another day, to others it signals the birth of a new time. I am not sure which I believe at the moment, but I do know that right now, where I am is where I am supposed to be. All around me the animals know that dawn is coming. They rise and scurry about, welcoming the passing of the night. For some it is a relief, that they have made it through without succumbing to predators, for others it is a time of rest.

The time will pass slowly for some, and more quickly for others, but time is relative. The phases of the sun and moon stay the same, with utter clarity. They are consistent however. They always follow the same paths, the same time frame. Its that simple fact that is so comforting to so many...

The Human Expirience

"Get dirty. Get fucking filthy. Get poor. Get off your ass. Get desperate. Get dangerous. Get moving. Get productive. Get pro-active. Get started. Get your own life. Get doing something. Anything. Because before you know it, you're 40 with kids, a mortgage and responsibilities that cause your fun to come second.
So before cancer, before children, before 50 hour work weeks, before back and knee problems, before school loans, before you lose your sense of humor...
Fight.
Fight and fuck and run and smile. Smile because the older you get the less you will. So yes, "Quit being such a goddamn pussy." Because bitching and whining and worrying never made anything better."

Talk about reality. How many times do we sit back when we could be doing something about our lives? I will answer for myself. A LOT. People like to believe that we have time to fuck around, time to waste, time to do this, time to be that. WE DON'T. Our time is limited. Relative. Think about it. We say to ourselves, "Oh! I Can put this off until..." and when it comes around, we make another excuse. We keep pushing our goals, and what we need to do, further and further back into the recesses of our mind, and soon we forget about it. Then one day you wake up and all the time we thought we had is gone. There is no more time to do what we had planned years, months, days, even hours before.

Human beings have the impossible ability to make excuses. In fact, it seems we are ingrained with the ability to make them up on the spot. Some of us even make excuses for other people! We make excuses for why we didn't pass a test, or buy a car, or get a job, or graduate college. Make excuses for why we get divorced, why we cheat on a spouse or significant other, for why we become abusive, or why we kill people. There are a million of excuses. But think about it. How many excuses are going to pass your lips for you to realize that there is no more time for them? How many opportunities are you going to pass up before you realize that there are none left? How many people are you going to disappoint before there is no one standing at your funeral? Most importantly, how much of your life are you going to waste, making excuses for why you didn't, or couldn't, or wouldn't.

New Beginning

Beginnings. Ah what a beautiful word. A fresh slate, a new start. A beginning. I don't claim to be the best writer, nor do I claim to have great insight. I see the world through my eyes, then use my thoughts to relate what I have observed.

I like to see things differently. I like to be an oddity. Being "the same" or "just like" everyone else, would mean that I have lost my sense of individuality. So, I choose to be different. I choose to be who I am, without the chords and bindings of stereotypical society.

This is not without regret, for some see me as more than an oddity. Some see me as plainly odd. Be that as it may, I don't mind. Because for the longest time, being me was wrong. I choose to prove that differently.

So. Let us Begin.