meaning

Peace

Solitude is peace.

 

You don’t have to listen to others.

 

When you’re alone,

 

You can shut out humanity’s corruption.

 

 

 

Nightfall holds no meaning.

 

If you’re at peace, let be.

 

Sunlight holds no meaning.

 

If you’re at peace, let be.

 

 

 

How peaceful it is to be alone.

 

To be alone is to meditate.

 

To meditate is to see truth.

 

To see truth is to be at peace.

 

 

 

You don’t have to listen to others.

 

A family isn’t needed for peace.

 

The light that lives inside,

 

You’ll see it even better when alone.

 

 

 

Reside alone with only the light.

 

With the light by your side,

 

You will feel no loneliness,

 

Only solitude, only peace.

 

 

 

If you seek the light,

 

You won’t find it in people.

 

If you seek the dark,

 

Finding the light will be easy.

 

 

 

If you find the light,

 

You won’t need people.

 

You’ll have the light,

 

And you’ll know peace.

 

 

 

Should you forget about people?

 

No, even though you don’t need them,

 

Remember this,

 

They might need you.

 

 

 

Live for peace.

 

Live knowing death.

 

All life dies, yet lives on.

 

Death comes and peace remains.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I hope people can make some sense of what I was saying. Sometimes I just spill my emotions onto a page and end up not sure if it's even logical.

 

I felt like writing this because in the past few years I've dwelled on the darkness I see in myself and other people - the corruption. I see so much of it that I tend to lose sight of what's good. For a while I dwelled on the darkness and felt content with hatred. I hated the human race. I wanted to watch it die because in my mind everyone, including myself, deserved it. But now I've found peace in solitude and prayer/meditation. Even though I still easily see bad things in myself and other people I've become a little more numb to them. I'm more able to highlight the good things in people. I've done this by turning not to people themselves, but to something higher, much higher. I crave solitude and time alone so that I can reflect on this, and so that I'm not so sickened by the world around me.

Life

Life

 

Life, what are you?

Why are we here with you?

You are a gift we are given.

You are a curse into the heart of our being.

 

Pain, why do you give us this pain?

Why the pain into the center of our soul?

The life we have is full of this pain.

Why do we have to live this life with this pain?

 

Joy, why do you only give us so little of this joy?

Why is the joy so short, but so sweet?

How to we balance the joy to the pain?

Why does the joy fade so quickly?

 

Balance, the thing we seek most of all.

Why is it so hard to balance the pain to the joy?

Is it because the joy is so much greater, and we feel its loss so much more?

Is it because we can not know the joy without the pain?

 

Death, the end of it all?

There are times when it seems that Death is the only way to end the pain?

Alas if we take Death, then we also have no more joy in this life.

Yet with Death there is no more pain.

Death, I know you, and I hate you and I love you.

 

I am but a lost soul.

I came into this world, this life with nothing.

I will leave the world, this life with nothing.

Is that why this life is a balance between Pain, Joy, Life, and Death?

 

Is there a purpose to all of this?

Why are we here?

Why is there life?

Why is there Death?

Why is there Joy?

Why is there Pain?

 

These are the questions of this life.

We do not get the answers within it.

We live this life to try to find these answers.

Maybe when we find them, is when we are done?

I am not ready to be done.

Are you ready to know?

Are you ready to be done?

 

B. Thompson

May 2013

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have been lost for awhile.  My family lost someone today.  I am doing well with it, but I needed to share.

 

I am an EMT and a firefighter.  I have spent my whole adult life trying to help others.  To stop pain and Death and to save life and joy.

 

I have been there for too many deaths.  I have seen too much pain.  It is a burden on my soul and a weight on my heart.

 

I try to sink the pain deep inside of me, but it has power and time and can find a crack to come out again and again.

 

I do not know how to stop it from pushing out from the inside. Maybe if I push it to the outside it will have more trouble coming back in.

 

Maybe

 

-bt

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Blizzard - February 11, 2013

A vacant space fills our imaginations

with goals to make the best of creations.

Work is to be done, and goals are to be achieved,

and a blockade of will is hoped to be relieved.

 

Imagination is a bridge, and your goals are lost,

for in front of you is a bridge that you long to cross,

but the mist is slick, you must proceed slow.

If you don't, the void of dullness lie below.

 

You take a slow step with misty stone at your feet

that quickly turns to snow, a foe difficult to beat.

Your walk turns to a crawl, and your pace is slow.

You begin to question what you really know.

 

Snow freezes to ice in front of your eyes.

Across the bridge are eternal blank cries.

You cannot wait any more, you must rise and fight

against the blizzard, the ice, what you need inside.

 

You grasp onto the stone, onto your destiny,

and you slowly rise to your frost-burnt feet.

Your crawl to a walk, then into a run.

If you make it now, your dreams are sure to come.

 

You progress with confidence, and you're heeding the call.

The only danger possible is that you might fall.

But that is impossible, you've gone too far,

until you realize who you really are.

 

You stumble and slip, and you smash into the ice.

Your only goal was to make it to new heights,

but you're too worthless; your dreams are left untouched.

Lost are the goals to which you've so hopefully clutched.

 

Is this a nightmare? This is not in your sleep.

It's reality's awakening to why you must weep.

You never had a chance; you couldn't ever make it,

so you were forced to break down and to forfeit.

 

In the progress of your life, you'll see what you've become.

You will see that it's imagination where dreams come from.

because they're not a reality, and they'll never be true,

so you need to discover what reality means to you.

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A Kiss Implies...

Nothing, which is a lesson I've yet to commit to memory. Perhaps at my own behest.

 

And why should it? A kiss can be given to anyone, regardless of their age, gender, sexuality, background; all qualifying characteristics could not possibly interfere with the pressing of one's lips against another. A kiss holds only as much significance as is shared by the two participating in it. Does that mean it's childish, even ignorant, to hold the kiss to a standard of affection, or emotion? Is it wrong to hope that a kiss is implicit of something greater? To some, yes.

 

While what is thought to be "wrong" is ever-yielding to even the most basic scrutiny, one may feel that they ARE wrong whenever a compounded and derisive force is set against them. To that end, many work in tandem towards convincing their peers that, essentially, there is no such thing as love. In the same way that the existence of God can never be proven, many claim that "love" is simply a misnomer which stands in for one of many, more realistic possibilities, such as obsession, simple attraction, dependency, and so on. A man or woman, sure that love is a disingenuous construct, may even come to see the BELIEF in love, or the desire for it, to be of a sad and simple weakness.

 

If this is true, then what of the kiss? Where is it appropriate? What purpose does it serve other than as an inclination towards intercourse? Few scoff at intercourse, but many scoff at the kiss. Many more scoff at love entirely.

 

So, what of the kiss?

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my attempt to be philosophical while talking about love, which is probably kind of stupid in concept alone. I got a bit bored and lost early on, and am really just venting my eternal frustration, lest I eventually give up on trying to find an actual mate whom I consider my equal (which will surely leave me plenty of time to search for something ((someone)) hollow and cheap).

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Lost Leaves

 

My heart beats in my chest tonight

As it did the night before

And the evening before that.

 

Today was just another day

Not one that I will remember

Or hold dear in my memories.

Nothing but a forgotten leaf

Fallen from a blossoming tree.

No, I will not remember thee,

It came and went from me

This leaf has left

With the wind

And is already withering away.

 

I don’t care much for the leaves

That have been departing

Unnoticed, uninteresting.

No, those should not be a part of me.

I would much rather choose

An unusual flower

With so many petals

To love and cherish

Unpredictable, unforgettable.

That’s how my days ought to be.

 

But tonight,

My heart stayed in my chest you see,

My days, my weeks,

Are dry brittle leaves

That didn’t belong on the tree

In the first place.

 

So tonight I pray

For all I want

Is to water the tree

And have flowers

Growing from thee.

To end the drought

Once and for all

Bring my life back to me.

 

And then my heart will arrange

To race, to jump

To skip a beat

To accelerate its pace

And pound like a drum again.

 

My days have been wasted,

Forgotten

It’s time to blossom once more

And make up for all those lost leaves.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I've just been feeling like my life has been so boring lately! I want things to pick up again!

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The voice of thunder By James Morris "Morrisjimmyz"

As the crack of thunder I hear your voice, encompassing thine ear with no choice , as the crack of whips it splits the wind, the world takes me for a spin, she faded away once yet there's still no end , the ship comes in ,covered with a cloud, watching over people seeing them evolve, it was so enchanting that i had to get involved, so the ship of Christ came down and hovered above the ground, no people can't see, so i slipped into the seams, straight down the throat of the volcano, ran through streams and left it deep in the within her seams, ,  ascended up to the face of earth, then stood before her grace, then seen a man face down , i fell into him finding myself laying on the ground , I stood him upon his feet as people watched in fear, i turned to opened my mouth the sound of thunder ran through the air, saying my dears, tell no one what you have seen, the grace of god is here, still onto this day , I walk with him, I talk with him, as the journey never sways , Making Prayer easier these days I am being straight forth unto all, as the Bible said I would do in truth . I am Jesus. BY James Morris "Morrisjimmyz

Author's Notes/Comments: 

http://www.appletreelawncare.webs.com > "Morrisjimmyz@hotmail.com"

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tags:

Fading

Save me from what I’m becoming
Fading from what I once was
Into a shadow of what I’ve been
Breathe life into me once more
Revitalize the ghost in the machine
I have become
Like a shadow on a cloudy day
Not living
Not dying
Just existing
I want to burn
Than feel nothing at all
I want to freeze
Than feel the chill of my own apathy
I want to die
Than just exist
I want to live
Than just watch life
Give me a purpose
Show me a meaning
Save me from what I’ve become

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The Truth

The back end of the tavern was pretty crowded that night, which meant that the bartender was being extra particular about who he gave his attention to. I’d been standing on the far corner towards the stage - the only part of the entire stretch that wasn’t mobbed by people - and waited patiently for an opening to flag down a drink. We were in between sets, and some other local act was currently assembling themselves beneath the shoddy spotlights. Their setup was as elaborate any other, with broad panels of wood adorned with as many as a dozen different guitar pedals placed firmly in front of their feet.

At a quick glance, I raised a finger to the passing bartender and ordered a cheap draft and a shot of whiskey. As he departed, a young guy stumbled toward the bar and threw his weight against it, sprawling forward with his arms draped over the back of the counter. He steadied himself and straightened, coming to relax on his elbows and placing himself on the stool to his right, as if he’d been sitting that way along. I couldn’t help but chuckle, and struggled to do so under my breath. He had long, ratty dreadlocks that held a color somewhere between brown and black. Everything about him looked sort of dirty and sketchy, but his grin also made it clear that he was having a blissfully good time.

He seemed like he was contemplating ordering a drink, but couldn’t quite get himself to move forward and do so. I sat there watching him absently, waiting on my own drinks to arrive. He turned towards me, his head bobbing, and he spoke to me as if he knew me. He had a name for me and everything.

“Tom! Tom… Sorry, I didn’t notice you there for a second.” He said, lucidly, his eyes opening and closing. He turned his stool towards me and placed one hand on his leg, leaning forward and looking at me very intently.

“Do you wanna know what I’ve noticed, Tom? Everybody here… Around here, I mean… Keeps talking about, like, what’s right; what the right thing to do is. And… They all have different ideas… About what it is, you know? What the right answer is. For everything.” He spoke soberly, despite his dazed expression and half-lit eyes. He turned to his right and slapped the counter top repeatedly,

“Drink, barkeep! Drink! Please, a drink! A Budweiser! Please!” He shouted. His voice cut through the noisy chatter surrounding us, and several people fell silent and stared at him. He paid no one any mind, least of all me, or “Tom”, and continued his diatribe with renewed vigor:

“It fucking… It blows my mind! How can everyone think that they’re right, and EVERYBODY ELSE IS WRONG? … How … I mean, really, man… Where did all of their mirrors go? Right?” His eyes widened as he spoke. To our mutual surprise, the bartender rose above the counter and brought down a Budweiser hard onto the counter top. The noise stirred the young man forward and he brought up the bottle for a quick swig, his wide grin returning as he swallowed. He stared at the floor momentarily, took another drink, and placed it back on the bar. His look of fierce concentration returned.

“I’m not gonna sit here, and… You know, tell YOU that I know everything there is to know. I’m not stupid, like that, you know? I’m not. But THESE fucking people, right? Just… All of these fucking jokers that… That wanna be on top so bad, making all of the rules… And, like… Deciding what’s MORAL and shit. What’s THAT? We’re just supposed to… ” He pauses momentarily, and then raises the bottle to his lips once before going on:

“We’re supposed to let them dictate whatever they want? Try to set their… Their bull shit in stone so that the rest of the world’s more like THEM?”

He slammed his bottle back down onto the bar. His face fell, and he drooped his head forward, looking exasperated and tired. I waited for another escalation, but he at last seemed content with being quiet. My drinks had long since been sat in front of me, and I took hold of the whiskey and downed it quickly, chasing it with a small sip of my own beer. Young dreadlocks sat motionless, looking tragic and downcast. I couldn’t help but feel for him, despite his strangeness and obvious intoxication. Why not engage an interesting stranger?

“I don’t really think there’s much to worry about. Don’t you think that enough people out there do know what’s right?” I asked him, wondering if my voice might make him aware of the fact that I am not Tom.

He turned and raised his head level with mine, all of the vacancy leaving his face, and he spoke with a sad, but deliberate tone:

“I do think that… But, I … I don’t think they’re ever going to be loud enough to stand out. You know, Tom? Like… They’ll always be there… They’ll always be shouting too, but… They’ll never drown out the people who, just… THINK they’re right.”

And with that, he took his beer, turned away from me and walked, on unstable footing toward the surging crowd, disappearing between the many dancing bodies.

Part of me wanted to laugh, and I did, a little bit. I took another short, meaningless little drink of my cheap, bitter, sour-as-shit draft beer and stared across the way at all of the lights, all of the glittering glass, all of the reaching arms and trickling liquids across the length of the bar. Feeling sobered and unhappy, I stared at nothing, hoping to catch no eyes, no attention.

I took another drink; longer this time. More to be had. It was starting to get a little warm, but still, it was refreshing. Another one, and make it good.

Once more. And at this point, we might as well finish the job.

What’s there to do now but go into the crowd as well.

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Here Comes The Rain

Folder: 
Songs

You made my day as black as night
My life feels loss of meaning.
You’ve turned dark what once was bright
How can you know what I’m feeling?

Did you know that once you filled my life
Your loss would be unreal?
I could’ve avoided the pain and strife
If you had told me how you feel.

 

Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.

 

Why did you say that I am not enough?
Why pierce me to the soul?
Because now, like the winter wind outside
My heart’s become so cold.

Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.

 

Here comes the rain
I’m crying in pain
Sighing with the wind
Swaying in the trees
Here comes the rain
I’m carrying the pain
I’m falling to my knees-
Here comes the rain.