Schubert

I never knew you but I knew you. Like a son knows a father or a man knows his best friend though its been ages since they've seen each other. I watched as you walked through the dark and struggled with the weight of mutation bursting forth from inside you. A community carried you and now we find ourselves mad at God for removing sweet flowers from our weeds. We will call you rose and by every other circumstance you smell sweeter than any fabrication of truth that we make claim to know to heal our burdens. But all that we know has been uprooted and our world of dirt and decay seems to be drifting away somewhere ethereal. This is not the way that anything was supposed to be and yet here we are. I hope to whatever god you worship that this is all some sick dream of some perverts fantasy that likes to twist the knives in our backs until the hilts are like the heads of owls. Welcome to paradise. But God knows how much you've made us move and I'm so thankful I had a chance to hear you speak and I have made a destination to live and love like you and we've all made the same destination and we prayed every day that you'd be here to see us through and some trickery has been done. The rug is pulled out from under us by a faulty magician but there is magic yet in the air because you live in the hearts you've left behind and for that reason you will never die. And it's so obvious that you've left an impression in our hearts, Mr. Neil Armstrong, because this community has wept for you and prayed for you. We long to burn with you and carry the weight. But they were wrong when they said the good die young. They die when they are aged, like a fine wine, when they share enough of themselves to be a constant and you get so caught up in constantly being by them that when you subtract the constant, you're left with the variable--that's the change. So we roll with the hurricane and pick up the hurts we carried with you and move on to other things that your strength allows us to make it through. And when we forget the things we wish not to, we stop and remember you. Joel, "may angels lead you in, hear you me, my friend. On sleepless roads the sleepless go, may angels lead you in."

The Story

Tell your story. Write out the purpose for the pain. The reasons for the heartbreak and injustice, the deaths and depression, the love and the hope that you have experienced. Write it out and share it. Sing it from every rooftop you mange to climb. Dance it out in the streets. Shake it like breaded chicken until there is no more life in its veins. Stand within it in the subway tunnels and cry it out in a huddle of your closest loved ones. Suck the marrow from its bones because we are all going to die some day and right now we only have one chance at being legendary at being hopeful at revolutionizing this world but we also have one chance at being mediocre. At complacency.  This life can be everything you have ever wanted so write your story among the clouds and people will stop and stare while you do.

William Shatner

I once saw a bear capture a fish in a river. Sometimes that's how I feel. I feel like I'm working so hard to swim upstream, to help lay these eggs of future beauty, but out of nowhere this paw comes and swoops down after me. It kills me to see it coming. And I've been struggling with this problem a little more: tried to keep it bottled up so you didn't have to see. Mr. Hyde meet Dr. Jekyll, I'm sure they won't call this a gtragedy. But they did! They called it a disaster, nicknamed me Katrina and I never understood why I could never understand my thoughts without submitting to some kind of forum for depressed people. That's all this is is a depressive season. Its got nothing to do with the fact that we fuck weekly. Its got no motivation from the stresses I'm facing when I'm not in thatg bathroom masturbating. Piss and moan of time but some day we will both be clearly defined and I will trade this pale bone spine for some tired line that comes second string to love like mine. Turn that face away or get the fuck out. Don't you judge me! You've got no right to look into this window but I have let you see the monster I've become. I've lost the Road to being human and the whole time I'm trying to save souls. I can bring everyone back! And if you'd just let me Id show you the facts I've got recorded underneath my eyelids. I've got them all packed neatly away in boxes marked with sharpie like I'm moving out of town. But sadly I'm not going anywhere except maybe to Hell, but I'm pretty damn sure that I'm already there. So, let's take a look around. I'm torturing myself with temptation but claiming I'm in the process of reconciliation but really I'm just sick of failing and fading out. I just want to go home to my family where I was loved for being me and not havingto fit inside of a role that obviously wasn't written for me.

We Will Be Different

A Heart to Heart

About an hour ago a good friend took me aside to talk to me. He told me a few things that I believed to be a misunderstanding of what I represent. It is time for a heart to heart. Here goes my best effort.

I love what I do. I love playing music. I love standing on stages. I love spoken word. I love speaking with people. I love sharing stories that many would not come across in casual conversations. However, speaking on a stage can easily be interpreted as a "go fix yourself while I revel in my own ways" kind of ordeal.

This is not my intention.

Something that I have failed time and time again to emphasize is where my writings come from. I'm just a normal dude who sits up late at night and tries to write something powerful. However, most of the things that come out of my head are simply for me. The words I speak on stages and type in blogs are all for me. Let's relate this to a book many people love: The Bible. The Bible is this set of books that weren't written to the audience that reads them today, but there are truths that can be pulled from the text and still applied to a contemporary audience. In the same way, the pieces I write and the messages that I speak on stages are, in my head, being reflected and told by myself to myself.

It's an idealism.

It's the way that I want to think. When I say something like, "go love one another," it's not just me saying to the listener, "Hey, love that guy always" while I go and act like an arrogant fool. It's me reminding myself that I have something that I need to go work on at all times. The revolutions and change that I speak of are not necessarily just for my audience, but they are also things that I want internally manifested in myself.

It's my dream for a utopia.

Words are powerful, but there is no way for me to clearly define what is for me and what is for my reader/listener.

It happens with music.

It happens with books.

It's the power of stories.

I hope this helps.

I have struggles of my own, and most of my writings come from this. I want to be the change. I want to love others more. And I want you to pull out truths from my writings and apply them to your lives.

Thank you for this chance.

20/30

There was a man who felt pain

He got high

Then he felt afraid

So he drank a whole bottle of wine

It seems like there's a vice for every feeling in life

I've got six.

Welcome to the family.

Pharisaic Vision

Pharisee what's it like to finally see

That grace plays a larger role in love than you expected.

You preach from the liar's chair that law

and order are the two legs of Chuck Norris

But you don't fear a round house kick to the face.

There is blood on your hands from the "lost" that died

For they never knew that their Shepherd had his arms open.

Your speaking death into dry bones

and acting like it's the greatest cigar you've ever smoked.

It's cheap and trite like your stupid workshop

where you tell us that living in two kingdoms is a sin

Who are you to tell me that the old way of working is still the best?

This is a point of transition to a new way of thinking

No longer Sin Management Systems

but The Grace Company

and Love Incorporated.

You are so wrong in the way you speak

It's almost as if your picking out the road signs we have laid for seekers

Your false teachings will come with a consequence

You don't know where we are

Or where they have been

You have sat in your ivory tower with books and books

Relationship takes time but you stuff your face with Ramen

Unwilling to put the work in to cook the meal

You will be food for worms