A Lie Preview

Slowly But Surely

The teacher slams a paper I had written down on the desktop in front of me. It’s more of a table since there are four of us sitting at it but it is a desk none the less. She storms off without saying a word. I honestly don’t even remember writing a paper for this class let alone attending it long enough to actually work on an assignment.

The Female Condition

Something I have noticed about community college is there are more females than males. The ratio is really fucked up. In most situations having those kinds of odds really isn’t a problem. Even though this is not a problem it still makes me wonder why. It is a known fact that the female brain develops much earlier than their male counterpart and by that scientific logic we can only assume that they learn much quicker because of it, but it is also well known that females will do nothing with their degrees. Even in this day and age, it is almost a complete waste of time and effort for a female to even go to college. It is too sad for words really and even more pathetic when you know what I am saying is true. Why even come to school or amount to anything if no matter how smart you are you will still end up with the same outcome, house cleaning, and daycare. It would suck and does suck to be a woman. Even a strong woman is nothing more than a sexual being needed to reproduce and make useless beings. Unless they give up on that whole ideal and even when they do they are considered some other sexual creature, like a lesbian. The worst part of all of this that even if they manage to make use of this degree they will still be expected to do the house cleaning and daycare. Not to mention the female is expected to drop out of said career that they worked so hard to get into at the drop of an infant to perform said duties or they are forced to work two jobs, to spread their legs when they are told, and eventually lose track of all their values and goals for the greater good of the family. So basically getting pregnant is nothing more than a long goodbye. Or they could never get married and get to hear the wondering whispers behind their backs about being either a whore or a freak. Options the world is full of them but for a woman, they are few and far between. Personally, I’d chose to be the whore. Who gives a fuck what other people think, but I also am not a woman so my opinion is that of an outsider. No matter what I have come to the overall general conclusion that the reason there are more women in community college than men is because their families don’t want to waste the money for them to go to school or to learn. Especially when they were born with all the knowledge they will ever need right out the gate. This could be why in the long scheme of life woman were married off at a younger age so they could get a solid jump on their future careers. Oh and the ones that do pay the top dollars for their darling daughters to go to a university or state college either have the money to burn or see some type of promise in them through either cleaning up after somebody’s bowel movement or babysitting some snot nose brats who will blame all their future problems on some female teacher because she just wanted them to learn. Being a woman is like winning a free ticket to hell. No, being a woman is like finding out you are adopted and your family never wants to see you because you suck and no one loves you so go kill yourself and are handed a knife to do it with. So in conclusion women should probably avoid school in general since the outcome is nothing more than a baby sitter and ass wiper.

“First off this is a Biology class and not a write whatever is on your mind class. Secondly, as a female and a teacher, I am both horrified and appalled that you could even think like this. You have a mother and you should be ashamed of what has been said here. Lastly as a teacher if you are going to write such sexist garbage might I suggest cleaning up some of the run on sentences or at the very least have some sort of clear and concise idea of what you are talking about. I have to be honest I feel embarrassed for you if this is how you truly think let alone write for other classes. Since this was not the assignment due you will be given only 40% credit for at least turning something in.” Is written in red ink at the bottom of the paper. See you don’t even have to try in life to earn some credit. I smile at the teacher as she looks at me in disgust. Honestly, I don’t even know why I wrote such a horrible paper. But it must have been how I felt at the time.

 

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Throat of the World

One day, evening
I thought about God
Relationships and relations too
Sitting in the clouds
Could we really be all there is to talk about
Poisons in the bloodstream
Drive us to do unthinkable things
Ripping our own skin from our bones
We dance around like fiends
Ever discovering our needful needs
I think about Christ
I think of passion
I believe in fire
The words escape me
Lodged in my heart
I’m always watching
Perched even higher
Standing at the threshold
Between heaven and hell

Often

I often wonder what it feels to die
Does it feel like I do now
All alone with no one to talk too
I do this to myself
Yet I don’t know the answers to my own questions
I often wonder how soon
Will all this prove to be meaningless
They say you pave your own way
But what if it’s not true
What if this is nothing more than a collection
Of me and you
I often wonder about God
Am I him or is it you
All reason would lead to nothing at all
I feel like I know what I’m saying
But in the end, it all seems to come out the same
Blood in blood out and all that shit
Maybe life is nothing more than a brotherhood
Of bull shit
I do this to myself
Get all upset for no good reason
I often wonder what it feels to die
And I know it has to feel like this

Two more poems from my first poetry collection… And Other Things From This Time… A bit on the sad side this week I’m afraid… I’ve talked a little bit about the dark period of my life that I went through and these were written during that period… A warning for those of you that follow my blog… Thank You… this month’s previews will feature a few more from that dark period… So things may get a little rocky… But I am all “better” now… haha.. Okay… I’m doing better than when I wrote them… Hope all is well…

 

The Undamned Preview

The people around me think they know me, a caricature of my formal self. Days into nights, nights turn into days. Like a cigarette I am burning down and the ashes of what I once was fall to the ground. They sway with the wind as if doing a dance in front of me. Always out of reach, always out of touch. I feel humanity slip away never sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. Humanity has been lost for ages. Kindness replaced by with greed and anger. No one truly cares about one anther unless something can be gained. Not sure if that is something new or something I’ve only grown to notice. Nothing more than dollar signs in the eyes of the rich. We feed off of so much pain. The hurting of others drives our entertainment from movies to music. I can not say that I am immune or that I am better than my people. I pay into the violence, I tune into the destruction, and I listen to the anger, and I let it fill me. I allow all of these things just as you do. Just as the public roars for more as if the world has become one large Roman Coliseum. The times they haven’t changed in the thousands of years since. Maybe the violence, the decay is in our genetic code. Attached to each chromosome as if the most important of all our traits. Even the bible, religion the simplest of ideas has been corrupted by the violence of man. The end used to be much simpler but we got more violent more destructive so we attempted to make it better. We introduced the idea of heaven and hell to try to curb the violence but it only spread the idea quicker. It used to be enough to think that when you died you would only reflect on the parts of your life that were good or bad. If you lived a good life a life of right over wrong you would only relive those memories over and over for all eternity. If you chose wrong than you thought about wrong for the same amount of time. It kept peace for a time but the idea that you would only be judge on the actions you take was not enough control for others. In comes heaven and hell. You either follow what we say or you are forever damned. Simple idea only who makes these decisions of right and wrong? Stories told to teach man humanity used to justify the violence of many lead to a darker time than many could have envisioned. We corrupt ideas so we can pretend to not crave the violence but deep down we do. We talk of helping our fellow-man but in the end we only want to see them fall. We enjoy the need to help others but only for a minute then we question what we are really doing. We want to see them suffer. We want to know that in some way it was us that made them suffer a cycle that is not immune to our very selves. If we save one we have to save a million. The commitment of it all is too much to handle. So we revert, picking off each other one by one. Thinning out the herd until there are only those that think like us. But everyone’s different and they all want different things. The only thing we can seem to agree on is the violence of it all as a whole. The destruction of all our hard work, all our sacrifice, so we can watch it all fall. We advance so in the end we have something to tear down. Humanity is lost in the downward spiral of destruction and greed. Humanity has been lost since the dawn of time. We are no better now than in the days of the cave men we just think we are. War spreads our ideas with the religious text we hold as true. The truth to brutal to take in we pretend that this idea, this want is nothing more than fiction. But we know what it is that we do.   I’m not here to preach to you about man or salvation or sell you on the sanctity of the bible. I’m here to tell a story because in the end I’m as selfish as you.

Where to begin? Middle is always interesting, gives me the option to go back and forth throughout the story. Creating an air of mystery over the overall time line. Though the beginning allows me to not lose track of the facts or where it was that I last left off. Starting at the end though is so cliche that the very idea makes me sick. The options are there, but the facts are not all straight. Because the story is still happening though I foresee an ending that is not all too bright. Could be the violence of it all. The story may come to a close, but the tale is only the beginning.

My life is not an open book with fascination around every corner. No my life is boring, obsolete, pointless with a twist. Though I may speak as if I am like you, act much of the same, proclaim we are equals we are not. I am far above you yet so very below you that my existence goes unnoticed for all of my life. I was not born into money, but I have more than I’ll ever care to spend. Once you reach a point in your life you will either understand what I mean or forever be lost in the rat race of hunger and greed. No, no money in my past and an endless supply in my future. This no more defines me than the traits I was born with. A confidence over time is the only thing any man needs. Though for some time doesn’t seem to be an infinite. Confidence will propel anyone into the spot or class or image they choose to perceive. Confidence proves to people you know what you are doing even if you do not. It should always be taken with a grain of salt however, because confidence will get you in more trouble than them all. I am merely an idea brought on to this world to live among you. I am the purest of them all yet I am the darkness. I feed the decay and I join the chant as if I am one of you but never forget that I am not. You may already know who I am or pass me daily. I’m as silent as the night but louder than any one person should be. I grow tired of the riddles, of deceit, time to begin this tale of horror and suspense.

“Get up you dirty fuck!” A kick to the ribs greets me into this world. The pain is intense not from the kick but from deep within. It is as though I am breathing for the first time. It is as though my heart starts for the first time, but not. I want to scream but I catch the next attempt in my hands instead. Words don’t seem to come out right on my end. “Let go of my leg you freak!” The owner of the steel toe shouts. “I’m sick of you bums sleeping out here.” The man with trash bags in his hand informs me. I release his worn down boot, “I’m not sleeping.” “Really seems that way to me.” “I’m hurt. I need help, I think.” “Don’t we all?” The question is sarcastic yet sincere in so many ways. “I’m serious. I’m not sure where I am.” I try to explain from the ground too scared to make the move up. “Right, a shirtless gutter punk like yourself has no idea where he is. Maybe it’s time to lay off the needle buddy.” He puts the two bags of trash in the dumpster next to him. “The needle? Could that have done this to me?” I ask as if I expect a real answer. “Look I don’t care about your problems kid. Leave now or I’ll call the cops before beating your ass,” he finally demands. I get up, slowly at first. I may be confused as who or where I am, but for some reason I know I can take him. I don’t need any more trouble right at this moment. He stands on guard ready for anything as I pass him to get out of the alley onto the streets. I’m dizzy, but I’m stable as I wander down the street and try to remember.

Things seem familiar yet foreign as I walked the neon light filled streets. A cop stops next to me, but offers no assistance only advice, “We wear shirts around here boy.” I ask for help but he only walks off. Confused I wander the night. My chest still in pain, my legs hurt as if they are new, my body mine, but not the one I remember. The cold sets in, the cold that will never leave me as I wonder if I am really what that man said? A druggie? A Punk? “The times they are a changing.” I say out loud to a crowd street even at this hour. I may not know who I am, but deep down I know that this is only the beginning of things to come.

 

Mixing it up. This is the opening pages of my next novel. Still have a whole other book to put out, but who doesn’t like to jump the gun? The hope/plan is to have this book out sometimes next year. So I’m really jumping the gun here. Trying to motivate myself maybe? Unsure and yes I am aware that Undamned is not a word. It works though in the context of the story because… Well why is a secret so wait and see… 

In the mean time I have three other great options to pass the time and you can check them out here on Amazon…

 

 

Oh and apparently today is a holiday so happy holiday. If it isn’t where you live well I hope you have a great day none the less.

Fuck, I Hate It Here- Notes On Nothing At All

Working like this you feel as though you could sleep for days, An endless cycle of sleep, work, what am I doing, and do it again. Up to my eye balls in debt. I am working for a clean slate. I am working for a dream. I am failing at every turn. This constant cycle doesn’t produce any results on either front. Not happy at work. I don’t care. Spinning in place and digging a hole so deep that no matter how much or how hard I work I am going nowhere. The how much and how hard of the constant digging has left me drained. When am I to write if all I want to do is die? What do I have to say when all I do is work? The world is passing me by, thoughts are passing me by, and my own grave surrounds me.

I dream of another life. A life with a different outcome, a different family, and yet I would die without the family and life I have. It is a constant sadness, another brick, insert the song in a cheesy nostalgic slow chant. I feel it as though I always have and I always will. One more heavy piece of earth. Another foot in the grave. No matter what I am fighting something, myself. There is this idea that we write our own stories and this is false in so many ways. The people around us write our stories, predict what we are to say, and hold us down. But where is the beginning? Are we always in the middle until the end?

There is no structure to this linear existence. It all makes no sense, has no reason, and in the end no point. Reflecting on it useless. Fighting useless. Going with it a waste of time and effort. No one wants to be a sheep, but the world can’t run on wolves. Though it seems at every turn it does. I miss the days when none of this mattered. I have no idea when all of it started to either. The idea of being an adult makes no sense at all. I’ve been told I am immature and maybe I am. Maybe I give a fuck about all the wrong things. Maybe in my trap I have lost faith in who I am, who I have become. We are all pieces of something or somebody else. We feed off those around us, but if we have no one around us what do we become? Throw in a lack of sleep for good measure and I am working my way to becoming something horrendous. A monster without a face or a soul. Embrace the change I suppose, but what then? I don’t know anymore. I’ve been swinging so long that all I do is swing. I don’t care what I hit. All I know is that when I finally connect I want them to feel like shit. To feel the way that I do.

It’s four in the morning. I can never sleep at normal times. All the time in the world to write and all I want to do is cry. Waste what little silent time I have. Maybe I want to fail just so I can have something to bitch about. I’m succumbing to the old man cliché of nothing is good enough, but I have in no way tried to make it better. Bliss of ignorance if only I wasn’t watching the train wreck happen while sitting at the wheel. Though when the wheel is jammed what else am I to do? Fix it? Fuck you think this is?

Life is strange in the way that it plays out. When you are young you need structure, but all you have are dreams. When you are old all you need is a dream, but all you have is structure. Work, family, society, and so on in an endless excuses for existence.  We are taught not to mess with any of them or bad things will happen. We place restrictions on everything. Drown ourselves in rules while forgetting that messing with these structures is why we are here. From fire to food if we didn’t step out of line we’d have no civilization.

In America we fear religious extremists and rebel forces. Yet the first settlers of our nation were religious extremist and this nation founded by rebels. We wrote the book on freedom, but don’t want anyone to read it. We are willing to recite passages, but the context is almost always lost. We rattled the fuck out of the structures around us at the time. Changing the course of history forever, but we to have slipped into the old ways. We have moved past our adolescent days and grown old. Compliance breeds boredom and boredom spells out problems. This shit is going to burn and it is a matter of when and not why anymore. Sad to be a part of this. To live now in this world. With all our advancements we struggle with our own morality as we always have. Taking a look around we never needed any of this shit, but we wanted it. I know what I want, but do I need it? Am I spinning in place with everyone else for no reason at all? Could I give up digging or will I just die?

This was something that I wrote for my next novel that I am still working on called Fuck, I Hate It Here. It is a piece of fat that I enjoy, but doesn’t really move the novel forward. Didn’t want to not use it,… So there won’t be a new segment called Fuck, I Hate It Here but there maybe more that I won’t use that I want to share… 

And Other Things From This Time Preview

Often

I often wonder what it feels to die
Does it feel like I do now
All alone with no one to talk too
I do this to myself
Yet I don’t know the answers to my own questions
I often wonder how soon
Will all this prove to be meaningless
They say you pave your own way
But what if it’s not true
What if this is nothing more than a collection
Of me and you
I often wonder about God
Am I him or is it you
All reason would lead to nothing at all
I feel like I know what I’m saying
But in the end it all seems to come out the same
Blood in blood out and all that shit
Maybe life is nothing more than a brotherhood
Of bull shit
I do this to myself
Get all upset for no good reason
I often wonder what it feels to die
And I know it has to feel like this

Into the Wild

I was a drifter
I was a wanderer
I was everything
You could ever want to be
I was a vagrant
I was a tramp
I was everything
You could ever want of me
I can’t die
Into the wild
I can’t die
Into the wild
My soul is my sacrifice
I can’t die
Into the wild

Knows When to Turn it Off

She said it mattered but it didn’t
She’s a good enough actor to portray Bruce Campbell
More of a dig, unless you enjoy that kind of shit
Be honest with yourself
There’s more in life than not giving a shit
She said she loved me but she didn’t
She’s as truthful as advertising
More of a reality, unless you believe that kind of shit
Be honest with yourself
Nothing ever ends like the movies
She said it was over but only after she dragged it on
She’s as demented as Clark W. Griswold
More of a lie, unless you believe it was an accident
Be honest with yourself
You would have noticed the blood trail at some point
She said it mattered
She said she loved me
She said it was over
Now I’m just sitting here watching
Shitty movies, of our past in my head
Wondering when I became the villain

Three poems from my poem collection And Other Lost Things From This Time now available on Kindle.  The last two previews have been on the sad side so I thought why not show you a bit of my pop culture obsessed side. Into the Wild was written and based on the same thought and idea as the movie/book. I really enjoyed Chris’s story even though it was very tragic what happened.  I was really hoping it was going to end the way a lot of us dream it would. Well worth the read if you haven’t already. The movie is also good, but there is a book so yeah you already know. Check out both if you have the time.

Knows When to Turn it Off is not the greatest example of my work, but some of those lines are pretty good. It was more of a dead idea where the theme was much better than the outcome. However how often do you see a poem with a reference to Clark W. Griswold? Exactly. For the record I enjoy Bruce Campbell films, but the lines “worked” the way they did.

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Abandonment

The day she left is the closest to actual hell that I ever want to be. I don’t believe in God and I know that when I die I’m not going anywhere, but six feet under and if there is a God and I am sent to hell. Hell would be that day over and over again, and in reality I feel as if I have already reached that point in my life. That all I am doing is reliving that day over and over. The day she left I didn’t say much. In fact I hadn’t said much the three days prior either. All I did around this time was cry, cry like I have never cried in my life. I begged her to stay, but no amount of begging would change her mind. She just went on about how this is was the best way. The best way for what I would scream. Only to be followed by more tears. The day she left. The day she left I kissed her one more time and I asked her to stay. She never answered me. She hugged me, holding me tight a feeling I miss more than anything in life, and then she walked to our car, her car now, and she pulled out of the parking space and went on her way. I just stood there for what felt like hours, for weeks, for months, in some ways I am still standing there and I cried some more. Since that day I haven’t stopped crying and I haven’t said much about how I felt. My mind replays it again. All the hurt comes back in waves. I think that I shouldn’t cry, but I always do. The drugs are lined up. All I have to do is do them like I have before. Pretty white lines that erase everything. Even if it is only for a short time. The escape numbs the abandonment. The escape rids me of all the pain. The escape is the heaven that takes me away from my hell. Every day I think back to what I did wrong. Every day I wonder what it would have been like if she stayed. I have never been perfect, but I don’t think I ever deserved this and despite all of it I still love her. Despite all the hurt and all the pain she has caused me I would give anything to be back with her for one more day. I screwed this life up a long time ago and I have found some way to allow it to continue. I snort the lines, I line up more. I’m ready to forget. Even if it is only for a short time. My mind is blank. Freedom is losing everything you ever wanted on a dream.

 

A Lie (Novel) now available on Kindle. 

 

A Lie (Novel) Preview

Beautiful Liar

I use to be like you, naïve and care free
I use to wish for a dream come true and all that shit
but I am more real than I once thought I truly was
Nightmares and dreamscapes only come true in your sleep
Awake all there is, is tragedy and wishful thinking
The streets are filled with the slowly dying
and the buildings and offices are filled with the damned
My eyes were once closed, but now they are always open
I drain the blood from the streets and sweep up the dead
The only job I have left
The only job I was condemned

 

Turn Out the Light

I begin my day by waking up like most of humanity, but in a hint of irony I don’t think that I ever truly wake up. My first thoughts are to find some drugs, but I failed to get more last night or save any for this morning. So now I am beyond hopeless. I light up a cigarette and take a couple of drags before stumbling my way to the bathroom to piss. There is a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and I can’t recall how in the world I got it, but now that I know I have it my leg begins to hurt. I move to the kitchen and open the frig door more out of habit than anything else considering I already know that there isn’t anything inside it anyways. More thoughts creep in my head and this is why I should have saved at least one more hit. My second real thought of the day is that I have to work later. I already know hours in advance that I will be thirty minutes late, but I also know that they won’t say anything. In some sick sad way they feel sorry for me or they act like they know something I don’t. Either way this pisses me off beyond belief. I don’t say anything because I need the money now more than ever. I close the frig door and start to get ready for work. It’s not a long process so, I’m out the door before I even realize it. I send her a text that I know she will never respond to. I send her a text that says, “I love you and I miss you”, but it was a waste of twenty seconds. I start my car up and pull out of the parking space. I stop by the dealer’s house before heading to work. I barely had enough money to get what I will need for the next few days of my miserable life. I need to conserve as much as I can before I get paid again or things just might get worse. I laugh at the thought but it is more real than I can even comprehend right now. The drug dealer sends his best and this pisses me off. I could barely stop from doing a hit right on his front porch but I make it to the car. I head to work and today is already a waste.

Sixteen and fucking stupid. Sixteen year old girls pretend to be so stupid and dizzy about the dumbest things. As if a five-year old doesn’t understand how much something costs. How hard does one person have to be dropped on their head to not understand the concept of money in America? Yet this woman standing in front of me isn’t sixteen, though she acts like it, hell I don’t think she is even in her twenties anymore and if she is she looks fucking rough. Her and her rather large but not for this area boyfriend, who decided today wasn’t a good day to wear sleeves, stand in front of my register. There is a horrible smell coming from somewhere, but I’m not sure where. They have decided to purchase some beer, her pleasure condoms, and this week’s special two regular sized candy bars at the value price of a dollar. The slightly overweight woman who really doesn’t need one more candy bar asks me, “If the tag says two for a dollar does that mean I have to get two candy bars to get the sale price?” My mind flashes to the many possible answers I want to say to her stupid question like do you really need two or are you fucking retarded? Because if you are retarded that is fine, but if you’re just pretending, that’s fucking sad. I calmly tell the woman you can still get the sale price if you purchase just one as I hide my twitching hand from her view. And just so there is no confusion I tell her that they are fifty cents apiece. She gives me a look that makes me wonder maybe this isn’t an act. She really is slow in the head. She decides the best way to go is to get two. “They’re only a dollar,” she says with a giggle. Her next words will haunt me for as long as I live. “You got this don’t you Big Daddy?” I want to vomit all over her, and for the first time tonight it isn’t from the drugs. The man, known only as “Big Daddy,” steps up to the counter and reveals just exactly where the horrible smell in the air has been coming from. He is wearing a sleeve less shirt that says, “Taken Care of Businesses,” on it. His sleeve less arms are quite hairy and sweaty despite the fact that it can’t be more than forty degrees outside. His hairy arms release an odor so wretched that the smell is burning my raw nostrils. I have resorted to breathing through my mouth, as little as I possibly can. The sooner they leave the sooner I can breathe. I can feel my face getting redder as my blood starts to accumulate in my face making it feel even hotter in the room than it already is. I feel as though I am trapped under water. The couple begins to speak. I think they are telling a joke, but all I can hear is my heart beat pounding in my head not the words coming out of their mouths. I don’t understand why they keep talking when I’m not saying anything back. I don’t understand what is going on. They are laughing and smiling, and the smell is somehow getting worse. It hurts, but I pretend to laugh anyways with them. I must pretend to be normal and that everything is okay. I must appear normal I chant to myself as my hand is still twitching and my leg has joined in. My mantra of normal is really starting to fuck me up. What is normal at a time like this? I hand the change to “Big Daddy” and the woman steps even closer to the counter, close to my face, closer than anyone should ever be, and she looks me right in the eyes. She says, “The secret is to have lots of sex.” I swallow the vomit that has found its way into my mouth and force a smile. I have no idea why she is telling me this, but I am grateful that they at least bought condoms. Now if they understand how to use them is a whole other question. My guess is that reading is difficult at their level of intelligence so probably not. It is another sad day on planet earth.

 

Last preview of the month and it is a long one… Like most things in my life this is nothing but fiction… Except Big Daddy is real.. He walks among us… Don’t fear the reaper… Fear the stench… Until tomorrow… Best of luck….