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existence is bleak in a colourful world.
and passion is present for those who it seeks.
but those who flourish in black, white and green do not see the world as it is meant to be.

they listen not to the truth that is masked behind walls.
they chose to believe lies created to please.
those with green flags ruin those with green thumbs.

five times a year they fly over seas and chose to ignore all that they are not.
if the truth is seen and not enjoyed, the truth shall be deemed untrue.
this in the mind of those who can feed the world with one coin from their pocket.

next door there is death. there is starvation and there is weakness.
but here there are structures and lights and shiny things.
their neighbours lie sick as they feed corruption.

those who have nothing give more than they have.
and those who have everything give hardly anything at all.
time to flip the world upside-down and force open the eyes of the blind.

David and My Performance.

Hallelujah.

David and my warm up cover of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5baJCXQZKA&feature=youtu.be

The Sweat Shops.

dirt, sweat and desperation.
you work for twelve hours, making fifteen cents per each grueling piece of fabric.
they consume what you produce and spit it back out at you with a higher price.
it's sickening, it is.

to end the mistreatment is to end lives.
therefore you must carry on.
your source of living comes from their beatings and their higher powers.
wait.. how is that living?
that's being.

all the rebels and devils line up by the edge.
they're all glaring down while the others look up with hopeful eyes.
the elegance that once was is now lost because they followed their lead.
they listened to their lies. that makes it okay. the big guys said it's okay.
so they consumed and they consume.
and the producers suffer and pass with two coins in their pocket.

Perceptions.

you take a look down,
you look all around
you see it all- you see nothing at all
what is it that your eyes rest upon?
reality?
no.
a perception of reality.
not yours.
not mine.
theirs.
his.
hers.
its.
just a perception that has been inherited- that has been influenced by the minds of others.

you do not touch what you feel.
you do not feel what you feel.
it is the mind.
the mind inside.
the mind's perception.
not your perception.
not my perception.
the perception.

we are matter.
we do not matter.
we are not energy.
we possess energy.
we possess knowledge.
we possess a perception of knowledge.
not your perception.
not my perception.
it's the perception that's been passed on.

we trust those whom we have never met.
they tell us how to live our lives,
because they've lived their lives.
they are not deemed sane until they are long gone.
yet we follow in their path.
it is their perceptions.
their perceptions are not their own.
they are someone else's.

there is no such thing as an original idea
we are seeds.
we are planted.
we are monitored.
we grow.
we live.
we flourish.
we seek nutrition.
we thrive.
we weaken.
we wilt.
we pass.
and another seed is planted from our plant.
we are a chain of living.

life is just a perception of a perception.
a wrong perception.
a false perception.
a satisfying perception.
therefore it is the perception we chose to follow.

my will.

when that day comes; i don't want you to be angry at the world
i don't want you to hate life for being unfair
i want you to cry because you're sad for the loss
i want you to smile because you know that i love you

when the inevitable day arrives, i don't want to be pitied
i want to be respected for my acceptance of fact
i want others to be able to accept it, too
i don't want you to believe you could've controlled fate

on the day i am lain to rest, i don't want my body to be another seed planted into the ground
i want to be set free into the world that i love
i want to visit the sea of waves again
i don't want to be placed inside a jar

my body is not my soul. it is just the container that keeps it safe.
my heart is not the place where i love. it is just the pump that keeps my cheeks red.
my brain is not my ruler. it is just the control system i use to act out that of which i cannot explain.
when i am gone; i shall never truly have left. i shall always have been there.







my body is just a device i use to interact and to share what cannot be seen inside. when it decides to leave, it is not i who dies: after the novel is read, the book may be burned, but the story lives on. the meaning of its life shall never die and its essence shall live forevermore.

longing an everlasting youth. welcome to today.

i lie awake in bed each night
hoping for a glimpse of the joyful sight
of the young boy who travels by fairy-dusted flight
that is why my bed rests by the window

i doze by the sky so that i may be seen
so the boy knows where to look when he comes dressed in green
my teeth shall be shiny and my hair shall be clean
that is why my bed rests by the window


i study each star, each twinkle, each gleam
of ticking crocodiles and the lost boys team
of pirates and mermaids and a childhood dream
that is why my bed rests by the window

there is no way to summon the kind of magic he brings
i cannot meet him while fluttering my invisible wings
if i am deprived; no note shall sound from heartstrings
that is why my bed rests by the window

i live not in Bloomsbury; i am no Darling child
i live in a matrix and my soul dreams wild
is it so wrong that i long to be beguiled?
that is why my bed rests by the window



one day i know i shall belong to Neverland
i shall be blessed with my youth and it'll be grand?
to be trapped in a world where aging is banned
is this why my bed rests by the window?

i hope you're not real.

greased, sweat slicked hair put back into the net that holds it captive to keep the dirt from dripping into that of which will soon be devoured.
you're wreaking of fried lard and potato skins and you're covered in everything that is anything with fast food.
you're eyes are caked with a dark, charcoal paste and your lashes primped to look full and chunked. hopefully today someone will notice the effort.
the pollution of your day job has crawled into your pores and shut the door. your skin is damaged; a bumpy road leading to nothing exquisite.
as you stand there flipping patties for just another overweight and unappreciative north american, you realize this is your life.
school is a joke when there's boys to try and please. what can education ever give you? some high numbers on another paper your parents don't care about?
every time you try and focus, there's another vibration of the little devil that you carry around with you everywhere. there's no way that whatever that old hag at the front of the room is blabbing about could ever be as important as whatever was just sent to you. when the day's over you sit and wonder what you were supposed to have done to be productive for the sake of your future. then there's another vibration and all is forgotten.
whatever.
you can just get married to some drug dealer that will be able to buy enough groceries to keep you from dying of starvation. it doesn't matter if he hits you; at least there will be someone out there that you can try and convince yourself cares about you.
oh. there's a bump now. you haven't gotten that gift you normally get and i guess that means something. you haven't been to that health class in so long now, you've forgotten what that means.
yep. there's a bun in there. and not the good kind that you can put butter on, eat, and forget about.
it's that kind of bun that never goes away.
the kind of bun that you have to pay for for the rest of your life.
i guess you see it that way.
i guess somebody noticed the effort you'd put into your caked face-paint that day.
you just wish you could remember which person that was.
there were so many.
too many.
whatever. life is worthless. life is unfair. you're a poor, deep soul lost in a hopeless future caused by a damaged childhood.
no.
you've done it to yourself, but you blame the world for your mistakes. you give up too easy and you're afraid to face yourself. you wallow in your self-caused trauma and you weep for your regrets.
you've been weak. but you can be strong.
you can be so much better. you can do so much better; but i hope you're just words on a paper. i hope you're not real.

Angels.

I finished reading the book "Kit's Law" last night and it made me really emotional. It was a beautiful book and the only one I've ever read that had me feeling like I was living the life of the main character. While my emotions were running wild afterwards, this kind of just burst all over a page. I guess I can share it. :)

We all have angels. Angels that come to us on our darkest days and shine a beacon of light upon our gloomy souls. They come to us in times when we need them the most and can appreciate them the least. Shattered; it is so hard for us to see how much we really rely on their blessings to challenge the darkness we're feeling inside. These angels save us from being devoured by ourselves and they pull us back to the world where we belong. They tread the Earth's beaten paths with us and live in our hearts for the rest of our days- whether we realize it or not. Whether they physically are there for us for a long period of time or just for a split second; they have the ability to change our lives. Without these angels, we would not be able to live and prosper. Without these angels, we would only see black and white.

Some Philosophical Spewage.

so many people just listen to the music instead of coming up with their own melodies. such is a metaphor for the way people live their lives. we're too busy following and listening to others to create our own fate. everything we do- every decision we make is based on the actions or opinions of others. there is no originality anymore. it's all been done before.

do we ever really act out of kindness? is everything we do; nice or cruel because of our own conscious or subconscious selfishness?

every person who exists has a lack of self respect.

the over-rationalization of so many things in life are what lead to our demise.

for the ones we love: do we ever do anything for them, or just for the benefits of ourselves? this may be in a conscious or completely subconscious mindset.

Yes. Sometimes I Sing.

This video is for Amanda.

Not A Poem.

So I was having a discussion with some wonderful people today.
For some reason, while I was speaking with these incredible beings, a strange conversation came up.
All the sudden, I was telling the story of how one day I had a confusing conversation with my mother.
I was eleven years old and very much a tomboy. I refused to wear anything but boy's clothes and my hat. My brothers were my idols and I wanted to be just like them. (I was also ridiculously jealous of the fact that they could go to the washroom while standing up) The only thing that differed was the fact that I loved boys. I never shared this fact with anyone, because I was afraid of being mocked.

Anyways- now that you have the back story, this is a paraphrase of the conversation my mother and I shared:

- "Honey, do you like girls?"
"Yes..?"
- "No, honey.. I mean do you like girls?"
"Um.. yes? I have lots of girl friends?"
- "No, I mean do you think that girls are pretty? Like, would you ever want to really like a girl?"
*flabbergasted expression* "OH MY GOODNESS, MOM. NO! I love boys! Did you know I've had a crush on Cole Sprouse from the Suite Life of Zack and Cody for years?! He's the cutest thing ever! Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh."
- "Oh.. Oh no."

... It went something like that. Just thought I'd share. I find the awkward questions our parents feel obliged to ask us sometimes quite humorous.

Halloween.

Disclaimer: Please, please, please do not read if you're easily offended.

Remember a blog is to reflect honesty and truth that comes from the opinion of the writer.

It's not written to be offensive- it's just written to evoke some thought.

Piercing the floor with heels like a dagger

Moving your body with moves like Jagger

Some boys are lovin', but some disrespect

Is this the personality you're hoping to reflect?

Cat's ears, devil's horns and a skirt too short

When there's protest you respond with a quick retort

What happened to Halloween being scary and fun?

Now trying to look classy would never be done

Whose to impress but those who think cheap?

Don't you want someone whose thoughtful and deep?

Whatever this is, you can count me out

I don't agree with what this is about

If there's no one out there whose real anymore

You still won't see me dressing like a whore.

Untitled.

I guess you could call me pessimistic, but I'd just say I'm a realist. If being realistic is pessimistic, then I'd agree.

A Short Story.

With each tear, she wilted more inside.  They left light tracks as they slowly trickled down her flushed cheeks, to finally rest between the soft creases of her cherry-red lips.  She felt as if somewhere behind her eyes, little people were dumping small, endless amounts of buckets filled with salt-tainted water.  These people must’ve been determined to empty every last one of those pails.  She could feel her eyes fill up with the liquid, and she found it hard to focus as they blurred her vision.  She blinked, and two more drops hurried their way through her fluttering lids, eager for a turn to be freed from their unique prison.  Delicately pushing her golden hair back from her tear-stained face, she gently licked away the salty drops that had been trying to ease their way towards her closed mouth. 

A faint light wound its way past the ragged curtains, and left an ominous look to the empty room.  The tears had given up as she realized she’d had enough of them.  Stumbling forward, she went to the teeny window, and swept back the curtains.  As she peered outside, a feeling passed by her that made it quite difficult to choke back another round of tears.  The light had faded away, and darkness once again dominated all of her surroundings.  Through the punctured glass that held her back from the world, she could see a bleak land.

Buildings as high as the clouds towered in specific patterns that made them seem as if they were competing against one another to see who could reach heaven first.  Roads wound around the base of each structure, occupied by countless amounts of varied types of vehicles.  People scurried about on the dirty sidewalks, all with their own important missions in mind.  A grey, polluted sky hung overhead, with a sun that was rare to be seen.  Technology had taken over the world, and practically ruled each and every life form that could get a hold of it.  Wires and/or devices would busy the ear of almost everyone you could possibly come across.  No one seemed to care that nature barely existed, and the planet’s sanity was crumbling into a bottomless hole.

 As hard, and as carefully as she could look, there were no trees, or plant-life to be found.  Grief and sorrow gripped and clawed at her heart, like a caged, wild beast trying desperately to free itself.  She hiccupped back her tears and tried to think positive.  Suddenly, thoughts and memories of what once was in the world appeared in her mind, and she longed for them to be more than just images in her head.  She was dying as each occupant on her planet forgot who and what she was.  At one time, everyone had loved and cherished her, and treated her with undying respect.  Now, children were raised without ever hearing her name- clueless of who she was.  Her hand flew to her chest as her heart ached, and her soul shattered.  She fell to her knees as the curtains fell back into place.  A cry escaped her mouth, and she looked to the ceiling as a wave of hopelessness crashed down upon her.  Her soul was dead, and all memories of her were forgotten.  She closed her eyes and let herself fall to the floor, as her heart slowed.  With its last beat, she could only think thoughts of her work’s failure and of her crushed dreams.  There, on the floor, lying in her own world, Mother Nature died. 

I Am The Earth.

My soul flows with the sea

My heart is the tide that breathes in and out

My mind has been set free

It travels on air from the whale’s spout

My eyes are the stars

My lips are canyons dug deep into the earth

My fingers trace the scars

Of our land’s damaged turf

The air gives me hope

That I shall never drown in my sorrow

My people help me cope

They make me look towards my tomorrow

My dress is made from the leaves

Remnants of what the trees have left behind

My heart is what grieves

The day life will choose to be unkind

The clock ticks however it chooses

My feet fly over my head

When someone wins, another loses

The dark feeling drops like lead

My skin is made from the scales

A bright lizard carries on his back each day

My life has no passes, no fails

For each accomplishment, the sun gains a new ray

I am the earth

I am a living thing

I am the ocean’s surf

I am the birds that sing

I am the wind

I am the crackling fire

I am the sinned

I am the great desire

Wisdom.

(Subject by request)

Some say wisdom can be found in many places

Some say it is just a page unturned

But wisdom is not genetic, it cannot be inherited

Superior to knowledge, it cannot be learned

Some say wisdom belongs to those who have never felt pain

Some say it belongs to a pretentious mind

But with wisdom comes scars that carry years of experience

Incomparable to arrogance; an inner light undefined

Some say that wisdom may only come with age

Some say it is false and does not exist

But wisdom comes with age, if age comes with experience

A wise one sees so much that others have missed

Some say wisdom carries knowledge of the unknown

Some say it bears no worth

But wisdom is being aware that not all can be solved

A wise one knows that mysteries shall reign over earth

Some say that wisdom is a simple matter

Some say that it may never take its toll

But wisdom holds the key to a deep understanding

It is a common sense that enlightens the soul

Wisdom is unscripted truths and experiences observed

It can be a reference for those who need guidance

When looking upon the path of life, a wise one sees a map undrawn

Those who believe that all can be known is truly not wise at all

The Brave New World.

Worms between their teeth

Dirt within their pores

Beating hearts replaced with stone

Obstacles obliterated by themselves

To feel is to live

And to live is to be dead

Emotions proved weakness

Souls were demolished

Anatomically correct

Biologically advanced

Robots

Disguised by the human skin

Immortality is imminent

For those who advance

For those whose veins run empty

For those who are flawless; faultless

We the machines shall rise to conquer

We the machines are better than the Creator

We the machines shall rise from our cells

To live in the Petri dish controlled by the inanimate