"Change" at CHILL

Video by JoJo Nieves

One Day I'll Be This Good

Anis Mojgani-"To Those Who Can Still Ride An Airplane For The First Time"

Mirrors, Mirrors on the Wall

Inside these arms is a life pumping liquid

That is no one else’s but mine

And I wish upon the stars that she cries that dancing with Satan is almost like dying
Teacher, Preacher tell me what these words from ancient languages mean

And how they have any sort of connection to me

I’m reaching out and grasping at rocks to climb this cliff

But every so often I find that my memory clicks and all of life and categories clumps together

So I let go and feel the wind catch me in its graceful arms

And I drop in an ocean like a drop in a puddle

Redeemed, Complete, Limp

To die; to sleep; no more

I am the violence that this world has befriended

Knock, knock, knocking at the door. Twist the bronze handle and swing life open.

I’ve become so afraid of what’s happening out there that I’ve locked myself in this cage for days on end.

Stockholm syndrome, I’ve fallen even more in love with myself

This world is but a stage, but it is all mine

You are but a character inside of my mind, crafted from impressions upon impressions upon reflections

Like mirrors I trust everything I put in front of you because through your eyes I can see me

I trust that everything in front of me isn’t going to rebuke me and shatter my fragile figure

I can finally breathe knowing that this stairway leads to nowhere and I’ll be spinning in circles endlessly

It would make so much more sense to me if I realized my entire plan was a fake

I’ve consumed so much that its time that I reciprocate

Fractions of fractions help me relate this to myself again

I’ve lost the leash I once had on this faith and the chain is leaving a bruised stain on my neck

I will hang here for days until someone discovers this door hasn’t been opened in weeks

And the stench from that room smells a lot like death

“Cut him down! Oh you of worthless faith! Resurrect his god and add a few more titles to help him survive in the world a little bit longer!”

This system is just another machine that pulls me down and picks me up

As long as I am here, I am worthless

So I sink back with that machete in hand and work my way to the chambers of Kings

I’m going to assassinate my idols in front of the masses to release the prisoners from the island of dreams

What would you sing?

If someone gave you a microphone and a stage, what would you say and what would you sing? Whether the crowd was 10 people or 10,000, what would you make with the moment?

I was going to write a letter to the frontmen--the folks who sing in bands. I was going to say that there should be a system or some classes where they would be reminded that music is a very special thing; something not unlike a miracle, rich with history and the potential to move people and change lives. They would learn about urgency and honesty, the value of a moment and a song's unique ability to cause people to feel, to remind them that they're alive and that life is worth living.

And it crossed my mind to say those things because lately, it seems like there's been moments when everyone is forgetting. I'm bored with watching guys play to thousands of people and it feels like everyone says the same thing in saying nothing: "How you motherf****s doing?" is followed by a request for the world's largest circle pit. Congratulations. You are the fourth band in a row to say the exact same thing.

Are you kidding me? You beat the odds by making it and they hand you this electronic thing that makes your voice louder and that's the best you could come up with? That's what you wanted to tell the world? The stage is sacred. It's above the ground so that people can see the magic when it happens; so that people can see something bigger than the sum of its parts; something louder than the same dumb joke, brighter than the latest neon trend. Tell us your story. Show us your heart. Remind us of our own. Point to something. In the silence between songs, point to something that matters, some question or problem that steals your sleep at night. Invite us to be part of the solution.

But maybe the lessons are not just for the guys with microphones. Maybe this stuff applies to all of us. It's been said that all the world's a stage and that maybe we all have some kind of influence and opportunities to say real things and move people. The stage in front of the crowd is this obvious place where it happens, but maybe it's true that we each have our songs to sing and venues to play. We each get a few people who listen and a few people to listen to. We each have our jobs and our schools and all the places where life happens. We live in a world filled with needs and opportunities. Every person has a story. There's plenty of room for meaning, depth and change. Don't buy the lie that says there's only room for jokes and it's cooler not to care about anything. The bar has been set way too low. There's room for magic and inspiration. There's room to live a better story.

The show starts now. alt

Jamie Tworkowski is the founder of To Write Love On Her Arms, a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. Since 2006, TWLOHA has responded to 100,000 messages from over 100 countries. They've also given $500,000 directly to treatment and recovery. Tworkowski will be speaking at universities across America this fall. Visit www.twloha.com for more info.

The original blog can be found here: http://www.altpress.com/features/blogtwloha.htm

What is this?

This is love that I leave you standing where you are
because you don’t know what motivates me to walk out that door.
Silence is golden and im afraid my tongue is running out of things to say.
Speak in whispers for the screams can only carry so far.
Say the things that my mind has always wished to hear.
Pretty lady I fear the disputes that have gone unsettled
are burning the rope that holds this all together.
Dismantling is looking more like a plausibility than a nightmare.
Don’t you look at me un the ways that you used to.
Can’t you remember the times when I held you close
or when I looked in your eyes and told you I loved you?
Where was your heart in the times I felt love most?
It’s starting to look as if everything we’ve shared has been another monument to your soul. \
I’m not writing another love piece dedicated to our being together
in the field of gorgeous flowers and music.
This is me writing my goodbye and resignation from everything that reminds me of you!
Because the static on my TV screen is telling me to go
It’s gotten so much worse from when you first came along
It used to remind me of how your voice was always the loudest thing in my head
But now it’s just that annoying bedlam that tells me that there is no longer a signal here
Disconnection is needed most because we are all just lost boys
I’ve started smoking up again in a useless attempt to try and get you out of my head
But my lungs are praying for something that’s more secure than basing my life upon the fact that
without this smoke choking me out I’ve got nothing to depend on.
And God I thought you were supposed to be bigger than the world that I find myself living in
But it turns out that my expectations have been a little bit too high for you to perform.
Well the show must go on and I believe I can fly
And my faith is only the size of something smaller than a mustard seed
Here’s to another lonely night where I’m left thinking about all the memories that we shared.
I used to worship you like a god and now you’ve walked out on me too
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY SUMMER
And I was supposed to be your Cohen
But the static in the silence is breaking this all down
And I find myself slowly walking out that door
This is not the life I wanted to be a part of because I don’t want to think of a life without you!

The Last Time

God, the last time I cried was September 24, after releasing you from your box

You rebuked me once I let you go, but I know it was out of love

It was just after that precious girl threw her arms around my neck

As I pulled her close with tear filled eyes she whispered,
“6 months ago would you have ever thought that you would have told your story to this many people? You’re changing lives, Danny.”

And right around then I held her tighter and lost all control over my water works.

God, I thank you so much for the presence of that girl in my life and the words you gave her to stir my soul

But in the times of drought when your voice is gone with the wind I search and seek and fall asleep in the middle of my mission

When I get scared I turn to others for comfort because who needs a savior when you have big, burly friends?

Who needs a God when you have medicine to fix the things that years ago you would have died from?

I wish that I could turn you into some form of material so that I could understand you

Something like my teddy and bankey I had when I was younger

So that if I ever got scared I’d hold them both close for some faulty sense of security

But I’m getting a little bit older with every second and I find myself questioning your grace amazing

Because my mind won’t stop pacing due to the fact that my questions are facing something eternal and true

I just want to understand you

It would be so much easier if I could wrap my brain around eternity

But for the last ten years the god that served me lived inside this silly cardboard box and I’d forget to feed him for a few days and then fear the fact that if I tried to open that cage he’d push me aside and try to escape.
I’m so sick of feeling like I’m the only one who has ever doubted you, if You love me so much why can’t you just make me love you

Why do I have to go through all of the questions of whether you exist and how great your sovereignty is and the stupid little details that I pay attention to

Do you even pay attention to those things? Or am I just chasing the wind trying to add up a bunch of adjectives to build you a slightly bigger box and force you back in

I know that some day you’re gonna break out of this cage and leave me here to stay and rot because of all the things I did when I should have not

Or is this my faulty theology that makes me wonder about your wonder and wish that I knew everything about the great I AM

I understand alpha and omega, but beginning and end….really?

I’ve got so many questions and none are getting answered

But every where I look you keep telling me to shut my mouth and be still and know you are God

I don’t even know what it is to know because my stupid philosophy class makes me doubt everything I’ve ever known.

God, the Last time I cried was September 25, 2009 out of frustration because my bridge is burning at both ends all the time

Coitus Interruptus

Coitus interruptus (To interrupt sexual intercourse before climax)
Come out of her, America. Come out of this empire that seeks to destroy you
How can the mustard seed ever be crushed when it stays in power
How can you hold a six figure salary and live like Jesus did?
“Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests but the son of man has no place to lay his head”
Does this mean anything to you at all?
Sweet forgiven child you have been so mistaken.
These chariots have found themselves connected with you
Take his word to the ends of the earth
We are so focused upon our niche of friends.
Release the ties that hold you to the President
But give to Caesar what is Caesar’s
The trumpet is going to blow and we are all going to be dethroned
Now is the time for us to move within this city
We are the underground citizens
We must all fight for the cause in secret
For we have the truth
We are going to rise up and kill the devil
Oh God, you’re raising an army in the belly of this whore.
She has chosen to feed on the blood of your dead martyrs.
The birth pangs have started.
It’s almost time to rise up, to see the light this world is holding for us.
He’s reaching through everything, he’s working on a way to bring us back to him.
Our God is greater than the Executive Chief.
Don’t you dare think about serving a second master.
Babylon will fall again and again and again.
Maybe by the fortieth time she’ll finally choose to lay down die.
Baptize the world my friends, my fellow soldiers.
From Ethiopia to the next Babylon over
Don’t let these lustful dreams blind your sight of the horror that they come from.
“I’m bleeding for you while you continue to go your own way.
You are the one that pleases me oh weary soul. I believe in you.
Join the fight and raise up your arms against the man with the horns.”
Now is the time for us to move.
This is the time for action. Break the ropes that tie us here.
Don’t climb in bed with that succubus.
She’ll claim your soul before you know and you’ll be stuck climbing out of the bottomless hole.
You have the key to release the chains and re-enter the light
This world is God’s. The Lord of Lords’.
We are Immortal.
If you believe join me.
We are Immortal.
This empire shall fall.