Hiding under the geode-cade

11 December 2018, 9:51 am. And there has been a litany of various potential posts where I have a visual, an audio track and an ideal for a my personal thingy to throw into the mix. I have nay posted a single draft as none of the posts were able to finish due to some shitty thing with my laptop freezing or some crappy crap thing to just… Slam the laptop lip down and go and play some shit on my actual guitar.

Ain’t anything like being absolutely lousey at playing a musical instrument to really put that fucking downer GIANT BOULDER upon the mid of my spine to really hit home how pathetically tethered to the earth I really am.

So without further ado, I present to you today’s song…

Slow, sinking feeling, kills the mood, / you’re conveying- and it pulls me, far down below. / It might, be best if you go. / Can it not wait, and hope for the best? / Will it not stop, a while to rest? / I, need to get up- / yeah need to get up, never mind, cause I’ve- / I’ve done enough, / ‘Cause the world waits around, / but I keep slipping and losing ground. / Do I not try so hard so good? / I can’t keep changing just because, / you think I should. / Said, all I need to, / and you don’t, understand still. / Wish you saw- picture my mind’s- / eyes are deep and they’re cynical. / One, taken four more. / Kills the pain, healing that sore. / I, I’ve taken what’s left- I took it all, / and now you won’t, / let me forget / Stop you’re talking down. (Now.) I lack the strength to sit or stand. (Now.) I lost my self confidence, in the quicksand. / In the quicksand.

~finger eleven – quicksand.


 

Unfortunately, due to reasons unknown (I’m just assuming) my band mates can’t make it today to even pretend to support me. I don’t know. Not really, that’s just my negative self talk speaking again. I have this idea in my essence that I don’t deserve friends or friendship or anything. For whatever reasons.

So today, it’s just me, up here representing… me. And all the bullshit and whatnot that I stand for. I have two things to share with you for our entertainment. One is the only trophy I won fair and square, and the other is a poem I wrote half a lifetime ago..

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THE MASQERADE

When friends aren’t the friends you thought they were,

no long the family you chose but never had,

they turn around, kick you in the face

and leave you bleeding on the ground.

Bretrayal of the most sinister kind

personification of deceit

can’t even recognise you anymore

there’s not resemblance to who you used to be.

trusted them with the deepest, darkest, most vile secrets

that lie within the shadows of your vulnerable soul,

you foolishly let them in.

victory acknowledged silently in

their game to bring you down.

wounds may heal but the scars remain

as nefarious reminders of martyrdom.

countless attempts at psychological murder

their efforts fail miserably.

your unconscious influence and memory affecting their lives still,

despite your long term physical absence

intimidates them, instigating fear.

they hate you but they need you,.

they watch you then try to be you.

scorned for being the one that is so deplorable

yet exalted and so obscure.

people are fearful and apprehensive of what they do not understand.

quick to mock and abuse who you are,

yet disturbed by how your weak persona embodies your shadow’s strength.

comprehending how one who once was incarnate of death,

frail yet governor of he living,

can both survive and die,

knowing nothing and everything.

still playing the role of fiendish devilry,

they cannot ignore the voce that haunts the back of their minds

which whispers

“immortality”


Oh yeah, before anyone rags on how insensitive the trophy inscription is, this was in 2002. I was on the formal committee and this was my contribution to the “ballot nominee awards” because I thought it was funny. And who’d have thunk it, I won it. LOL

Hmm.. Tomorrow I’ll share with you the last poem/lyric thingy I can actually find. It’s called “bird watching”.

10:24am. And.. my fingers tingle. My ears ring. My neck feels strangled. I don’t want to sing. Because what’s the point. There is none.

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Muse of epic poetry. Mother Metatron. Contemporary teacher of humanity and art.

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