T.O.D. - What Once Was, May Be Again

Tonight, despite the many things churning inside, I decided to share another piece of T.O.D. . This selection is from a long time ago, perhaps 20 years or more... a time when I was hopeful but already wounded by the sting of rejection. I smile a crooked grin when I look through these old writings... wishing life could still be so simple. Sit back, prop up your feet, and witness another fine example of failure... fucking pathetic, really.


One More Day Will Pass”


    One more day has passed, and yet my lips are still sealed. A silence- a peace? Yea, it’s but a shattering in my soul. This silence, my pain, is longing to be broken; only if my words are spoken. Words of love, words of passion, and the words of my emotions. Words on how I long to hold you- a gentle embrace. Words that would turn my wounds into fallen petal kisses.
   
    One more day has passed, and yet my eyes are still closed. A blindness- the dark… keeping me a child. My blindness, keeping me from seeing that you do not care for me. For once before, I tried to speak, and lowly was I brushed away. Not seeing that there is no love in your eyes for me- only for others. Once again, I stand here alone.

    One more day has passed, and soon I’ll be dead. Not resting, but weary- from the sadness within my head. All I ever needed was love, all I ever wanted. Without love, a man shall die. In my blindness, I see that I am not worthy of any ones love. For so… on and on it goes- and one more day shall pass.

T.O.D. - The Girl With Fiery Eyes

As I debated on what I would share for the day, Richard requested I post something from T.O.D. ... it's been awhile since you were forced to read some of my old writings. Bring your mother and sister under the covers... so many breasts on which to feed. Like milk and honey, the sweeter with money... while your son sucks out your seed. Thank you, for that inspirational message... T.O.D. cares.



"Wedding Vows"

Cut me- until I bleed;
Cut me- remove the seed.
Cut me- slash and speak;
Cut me- pounding me weak.

Your terror- swims through;
Your voice- shatters too.
Your eyes- holes of lies;
Your love- withers and dies.

My poison- your nest;
My lust- your breast.
My pain- your face;
My death- this place.

In you- rotting meat;
In you- heartless beat.
In you- endless feast;
In you- beauty's beast.


00.18.12

The Four, And Then Me

"The Four, And Then Me"

It was cold... the earth, my knees, the way the glares iced over till Thursday morn.
It was hot... the juices, the blood, the thrusts that cleaved and cauterized my flesh.
It was love... the touch, the licks, the mouth inhaling your sweat, taste, and urine.
It was hate... the orgasm, the dismissal, the reflections peering back in the mirror.

I remember... each tuft of matted hair and the way your body shook violently about.
I remember... people watching in awe as the clothing was torn from my young body.
I remember... needles sticking in my thighs and how my tears tasted on cold vinyl.
I remember... seeing the blood running through my fingers and begging you'd stop.
I remember... knotted sheets, Vaseline vapor, and the way I fell deep inside of you.
I remember... every fold, every mound, every crease, every taste, every pubic hair.

Can we give enough, to make it stop... can we bleed enough, up until the last drop?


19-03-12

T.O.D. - Voy Perdiendo, Perdiendo

It's been awhile since the last T.O.D. entry... some may be grateful for small favors. The past few days have been relentless... my feet are swollen from the repetitive dancing with skeletons. Sleep has eluded me as well... not that I dream of sugar plum fairies in the first place. Usually I'm stirred three times a night with infectious nightmares... memories and thoughts nibbling at the curdled brain tissue. I wanted to come here tonight and write about things weighing heavy on me as of late, tell some adventurous tale of yesterday or perhaps finally speak of Serah Weaver... later developments taxed my ability to follow through. My mother needed some suckling and my sister needed some blood... my breasts and veins have gone dry. Time has hemorrhaged and the choir has remained quiet, preparing their aria and verdict. So tonight's entry will be another selected piece from T.O.D... boo, hiss, boo. As a form of compensation, it will require no dissection... tapestries are unfolded and the edges are in place. Those of you that have been following along have figured out by now, that every thing I say has a message, purpose or target... those gingerbread men are crafty and refuse the feast without chase. It is a bit graphic and perhaps offensive... to no one's surprise, I am certain.


"The Offering"

I had a baby-
And slit its throat.
It shook and jiggled-
Like a slaughtered goat.

It was not of joy-
But a service of mine.
An offer and payment-
To Satan the divine.

It lay there fresh-
On my alter of stone.
Now I must clean it-
Pulling flesh from bone.

I boiled its fat-
For a warm tasty drink.
Inhaling the aroma-
As it boiled up pink.

I ripped out its heart-
Squeezed it bone dry.
Ate out its liver-
And smoked its left eye.

I saved all the blood-
As instructed to do.
Anointed my forehead-
And savored some too.

Its red-stained bone lay-
Other ingredients in place.
For now it is the hour-
To see my Master's face.

He blessed me His servant-
Bestowing power in my hand.
No longer of fleshy earth-
But His immortal I stand.

-(An excerpt from T.O.D.)

T.O.D. - The Gaping Maw

It becomes deafening... the clicking and whirring, voices in one accord yet disarray. Recent conversations have unearthed the once prized stability... flaming torches of confession burn away foundations in the name of desperation and unchecked passions. My breath has become powdered chalk and ash... blinding the eyes of whom I so desired to see with clarity. The cancerous mass, once labeled a tongue, infects the ears that would listen... once what was one, has now become none. As I bathe in this wake of ruin, they sing once more in revelry. Your silence was an omen. Had I heeded you luster, my words would merit a continuance... now marred, the feasting begins.


"Emotional Roller Coaster"

Up, down- loaded gun in a holster;
I am your emotional roller coaster.
Inside, outside- as I fall apart;
I feed on blood and broken hearts.
Hold on, scream- life makes you dead;
I have many unseen turns up ahead.
Turn to the left, then to the right-
I am that denizen ripping you at night.
Back and forth- we go there once more-
I've always lived by words that tore.
There is no escape from this you see-
All because you made yourself love me.

-(An excerpt from T.O.D.)

T.O.D. - What All Want, But So Few Obtain

Once again, I am turning back the clock... to the days of wind and freedom. Showing the "other" side of myself... the one not stricken with madness, despair and festering ire. Ah, we know what it is... the love piece, how trite. Yes, I am still a sappy, bleeding heart... fucking pathetic as that may be. Just because I have never felt love or loved, doesn't mean I can't have an opinion on the matter. Save the moaning and negative commentary... I have enough coming from the choir. Sometimes, we just do things we need to do... simple as that. Spider webbed tapestry and laced words still apply... you won't get off so easily. From T.O.D. ... more of the lost.


"I Have But One Heart"

I have but one heart and soul to give-
It is buried deep inside you; it lives.
Time has passed, yet nothing has grown cold.
Still I dream of holding you, when I am old.
If you had a source- you'd flow from within.
If you had a place- it's everywhere I've been.
Again at last- you have returned life unto me-
Expressed by those tender moments; love, you see.
For there wasn't a moment I had left your side...
I grow and beat within you- in there I abide.


00.12.09

T.O.D. - Five To One

I'll be the first to admit that my understandings and perceptions are often times askew... then again, people misunderstand my contorted speech more often than not. People with their silver, split tongues weave insults inside of embraces... the same manner in which I flirt with mystery and uncertainty in my phrases. May the Heavens embrace your wounded heart and your quiet offer you solace... find your peace elsewhere and shut the fuck up! It's an Eloquent Dismissal... how poetic one's venom can taste. I have shown many sides of my tongue here... various writings and rants inspired by passion, rage, insanity, love, loss, society and violence. They are all parts of whom I really am... my filter is broken and I have nothing left to lose. Indeed, I can be vulgar and offensive, but that isn't my mission... I am here to bellow my silent scream to the void. Everything that I have written, everything, has a hidden layer and message to someone... nothing is as simple as it appears. Looking through the "dusty box", I found another poem that was removed from the original draft of T.O.D. ... it just show's another side of myself, another ripple in the water. Long ago, someone asked me to write them a poem pertaining to a sexual encounter. It was an unusual request from a stranger... typed into a chat room conversation, simply to prove I was capable.


"Last Night"

Last night you touched me, but not the first time;
Experiences and pleasures... birthing my rhyme.
You held me close, as you welcomed me in;
Sparked my passions... from the depths within.
As we touched, our bodies merged into one;
Wet lips and fingertips, oh the web we spun.
Pulses arose, staggered gasps, then a soft moan;
Your hands and tongue- the things I was shown.
You pulled me out, then back in again;
Raising my climax, to taste my within.
As I lay there, so milky soft on your skin;
Eruptions of tingles, how long it had been.
Shakes and sighs, as our hands clasp tight;
Minutes slipping- I was in you all night.
Your wetness and flavor, still over me;
Not just my body, but my soul you did see.

Rethinking T.O.D.

Today I found myself swept away and in thought... perhaps I should reload that dream and inhale deeply. People tell me quite often, that I should write a book about my life. My usual response is, "Did that once... fucker wouldn't print.". Reminded again today in casual conversation, the notion actually stuck against the back of my mind. Bouncing around inside with the choir debating furiously, I thought perhaps maybe I should give it another go. After all, the last attempt was more of a chronological collection of my writings and poetry over the years... not a real book about my life. Every time I see my therapist and I spin the tales of old, he is either in utter shock, tear bursting laughter or cringing empathy. Someone told me today that I could perhaps touch a lot of peoples' lives in various ways... their reactions to the events in my life would inspire an onslaught of emotions ranging from fury, anguish, sorrow, contempt, joy, peace, encouragement. These are not my words... personally, I don't think people would care to read the ramblings of an ex-junkie schizophrenic. Still, the thought lingers. Finding myself in a state of delusional bliss... what if I really could just touch one person? Change one opinion? Inspire one dream? The notion sounds terribly insane as I write these words down... I can't even remember to eat everyday, how the fuck am I going to make a difference? The debate is ongoing... the choir and the cat are disgusted and relentless. Regardless of their opinion or any of my own personal feelings about the issue, I need to make an appointment with a lawyer and ask some questions... my only concern is my safety. If I decide to attempt such an adventure, I thought it would be nice to add some of my writings and poetry within the book... perhaps at the beginning of each chapter, something relevant. The original T.O.D. was my dream to have my poetry published, so it seems fitting. It's just a thought... one of many.

It Still Bleeds Red...Though Thick And Cold

Rather than post more of my ramblings or perhaps a verse from long ago... I decide to post another one of my favorites, from a far greater mind than my own. I can think of no other words that can better express my current thoughts.


"The Sick Rose"

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

-William Blake

The Clarity Within Confusion

Today has been a bad day... these episodes have become more common causing greater confusion. When the turmoil has passed and the tears cease from forming, I am reminded of something that brings some clarity and comfort:


"I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched."

-Edgar Allan Poe

Early Inspirations

"The Arrow And The Song"

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Solace

Is it too much to ask, for me to crawl inside of you? In there, feeling warmth and security... I could feel something other than myself. So many emotions bottled inside, bouncing around with no exit or interpretation... flat are they, with no purpose or sensation. Together, we could give them purpose and understanding. So close we'd be, your could impart your feelings unto me... giving them life as they nestle inside of my heart and being. At last, I could give a face to the flat and a voice to the silent screams... feelings I could express freely and receive without indifference. "Wake up child, for this is not your place, there are no burrows in which you can erase. It is time to go home now, inside the silent, dark and deep. You have your company and friends to keep, skeletons to nuzzle and hold as you sleep. This is your home and you need no more, certainly not that dream you so adore.".

In The Window

If I were the Captain, we'd be lost at sea-
An empty kettle crackling, serving no tea.
Erased fifteen and shadowed nineteen more-
Listen to the knocking, touching not the door.

Smiling now, as I see that desired, comfort face-
It wasn't here as thought, instead distant space.

-AF

Red November

Night has fallen, once again closing the day.
Confusion building, emotions cling and sway.
It's not coming, not a faint whisper nor sigh.
Stepping lightly on the boundaries that lie.

Not to mourn the things intended empty.
It's not coming today, not for you or me.

-AF

T.O.D. - The Blight Of Organized Religion

"Amazing Grace"


Eat me, eat me-
Sunday morning savior.
I am the flesh-
Bloody Communion wafer.

Praise me, praise me-
Empty headed prayer.
I am the light-
Guilty life layer.

Drink me, drink me-
Forgiveness is restored.
I am the life-
Your alcoholic Lord.

Prasie me, praise me-
Ultimatums or die.
I am the way-
A crucifix and lie.

What Is T.O.D. ?

Assuming anyone even reads this blog, perhaps I should take some time to explain this reoccurring terminology- T.O.D. . What the hell am I talking about? Well, T.O.D. , is the abbreviated title of my book I wrote long long ago. The actual title is "Thoughts… Or Delusions, Whatever They May Be". It's basically a collection of my poetry, writings and experiences of my life. In an earlier post, I referred to it as a failure... which in a sense it was and in another it wasn't. I've had some of my poetry published in several books, so in a way it wasn't a complete failure. As a whole however, things didn't go so well. I used to know this really rich guy that owned several businesses, one of which was a publishing house. I gave him a copy of my book and he just loved it... he said he found it very moving. Then he told me, "But... I can't publish it for you. Poetry doesn't sell unless your dead or famous.". So, with my tail between my legs, there ended my writing career. So, long story made short... T.O.D. is a book. My book... my life... my long lost dream.

T.O.D. - More Of The Same

"Time"


You got the time...
To beat me for awhile?
It has been a really long time.
Or curse and rape...
My soul you must break.

You got the time...
To put me down?
I've been feeling pretty good.
How about a lie or two...
That would be just great.

You got the time...
To watch me cry?
I know it always makes you smile.
Whats that?
...perhaps another time.


00.13.8

An Excerpt From T.O.D.

"Your Toy"


What's this- a breast.
What's this- a vagina.
What's this- love.

Rub it-
Suck it-
Finger fuck it-

Terror...
Confusion...
Isolation...

I will- take this.
I will- chew you up.
I will- spit you out.
I will- rip you.
I will- evolve you.

With this spade- I drive into you.
With this blade- I peel you.
With this scar- I bury you.
With this soul- I remember...

T.O.D. - The Failure of My Writing Career

"Would You Still Love Me?"


Would you still love me... if I told you I was cruel?
Forbidden or deranged?
Would you still love me... if I were sick in my old age?
Decrepit or decayed?
Would you still love me... if I run and hide away?
Distant or ashamed?

Stained teeth and fingertips... the smoke that I toke.
Broken bones and soul... the times I have fallen.
Stale breath and rasping voice... what comes from within.
Tired eyes and bruised heart... the long days I've seen.
Paranoid thoughts- was that about me?
Changing emotions... the intensity I bring.
Here today... gone tomorrow- thoughts...
I blow like the breeze.
Living in two worlds-
My own and reality.

Would you still love me... if only you knew-
Such words of love, I have spoken to you...
A tongue much quicker, it lashes too.
Words that tear...
Would you still love me... after all these things?
Would you still love me... accepting all?
My love... my hate-
All that flows within.
Would you still love me... just like I am?

From My Past - Somethings Never Change

"Playmates"


I see your face... it's giving me life;
Once more inside your throat- my knife.
Sicking one, two, three times and more;
You gurgle and spit; my lovely whore.
A little longer- play with me please;
I've got more toys; more time to tease.

Cutting your flesh- pulling it up and down;
I am so lucky I saw you... walking in town.
Inside my home, we went to play downstairs;
Singing sweetly; cutting out your cunt hairs.
With each slash and pull, you shake and wiggle.
Every time your blood splurts, inside I giggle.

Look my friend, I made a flesh tailored dress;
Careful now- it's still wet; don't make a mess.
With each needle prick- stiffer is my erection;
Then in due time, I'll cum from your dissection.
There I am finished, was it as good for you too;
You are so pretty and breathless... I love you.


00.17.12