lately
lately I’ve been more angry with you than anything else. I’m a little sorry. But not as sorry as I usually am. Maybe I’m not sorry. But I’m still in love. It’s just that I know, I know, I know I told you you’re the light. And you are. You are. You are. It’s just that right now I’ve got a headache and I’m angry and, well, I don’t feel like basking in you. Not anymore. Not while I feel the burn. And I do. It burns. You burn. Then I get more angry because I know you’d just say I should’ve known better. I mean, look look look at all those freckles. Right? But then I remember again. I’m always remembering. How there was more to that. There was always more. Cause then I’d say I hate them. Those freckles. And you’d say you loved them. You’d say you know you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You know, you said that when I met you. But you also said it when I left you. Or you left me. Or made me leave. God I just, I hate burning in the sun. I’m angry again thinking about how you’d still blame me. That you do blame me. For not knowing better about you. About how you’re not the sun. How you’re no good. How I should’ve known known known. But I’m not wrong. I never was. You see, your light still fucking blinds me. But guess what? It’s still there. You’re still light. You’re still the fucking sun—my sun. My July sun. But you fucked me over pretending I’d live under your warmth for every season when you just liked the way I slowly burned at the sight of you. But as for you? You’ll always be the sun. And for me? I’ll always be the only woman that loved you are your darkest.
So when you dim again—you will look look look across the entire fucking universe and will see me again. Except, by then I’ll be loved by another man who knew when I met him that I deserved every fucking planet.
(This one is Meghan)
Memory
My memories travel in fragments. Beginnings to a storm. Casements of sliced thought. Ends of stories, pieced for a grin, to provoke in me a response. A smile, a fist, a tear.
My memories cloud together, forming droplets over my thoughts. When I least suspect, when quiet calms with its quake, they shout in their fury. They will dominate with their whisper.
My memories stir, aftershocks to my fingertips, until my lasting breath. With my soul elsewhere, when my heart ceases to grow, will all of my thoughts scatter to oblivion?
Desires are secondary to the fate of my cased thoughts. I can only pray for the tales of my life to trickle to the memories of others. By reaching out with a delicate hand, I will live forever in the minds of those I love.
Those are the memories that matter.
One Time
Before I had an MRI, I had to fill out several pages of paperwork. The questionnaire asked, “Have you ever had any problems with anesthesia?”
I wrote, “No. But one time, in the operating room before surgery, the doctor was holding my head in his hands just before I went unconscious from the anesthesia and my eyes rolled back into my head and I said to him, “I’m going into the Light now.”
THE HATERS
'As you HATE the Haters
do you not realize
that you have become
the very thing
that you despise?'
~ ki ~
Charlottesville, Virginia AUGUST 2017
There have been uncountable meetings of the Haters, taking place innumerable times, at pretty much any and every place imaginable.
What just happened in Virginia is just another occurrence, much like the last, and undoubtedly like all too many to come to your town soon, brought to you by .... the ‘Haters’. Everyone is so sure that they know exactly who those people are. You know who they mean. ‘Those people’. The ones who disagree with us. I mean, how could they? Don’t they know that we know exactly what is needed today? You know, to fix everything. To make the world a better place. You do know that, don’t you? If not, then that must mean that you hate me, because there is just no other reason for anyone to not agree with me.
That, unfortunately, is the way too many people view our world today. If you don’t agree with me, and if you don’t understand what I am trying to accomplish, then there is something wrong with YOU. They bear no responsibility to explain their position, if they even have one, and they certainly have no intention of wasting their time trying to convince you that their position has any validity whatsoever. If you can’t see that they want to save the world, then you must be crazy. You’re not rational. You must HATE them! And therefore, to quote any five-year-old, in any playground, in any country, during the last millennia, the response is then ‘I HATE you more’.
Have you ever wanted to cry so hard, or laugh so loud, then when you see what people are doing, every day, all across this country, and this world, in the name of LOVE, and TOLERANCE, and DIVERSITY? I do not really accept the concept of the ‘DEVIL’ in any shape or form, and yet, almost daily, I cannot understand the things that people do, and then the rationalizations that they attempt to use as proof, of their character and integrity, and the ‘righteousness’ of their actions. If ever there is the work of the devil happening in our lives, then the actions of these ‘HATERS’ absolutely fills the bill and is proof positive that the devil does indeed exist, and ..... he is US!
Now, maybe I really don’t understand. I guess it IS possible, that these people are wrong. You know, the ones in Virginia. It is just that I am having problems determining exactly who ‘THOSE’ people are. And exactly ‘who’ is wrong. And you know what? It has been glaringly obvious from the start just who instigated the issue.
Let’s try to make this as simple as possible. We have a group of people who are pretty disappointed that someone they admired, whether deserving or not, is being disrespected. Their heritage is being called into question, and they are not being given a chance to voice their concerns. Does this sound familiar, in any way, shape, or form, to you? My first reaction, not even knowing what the issue actually was, is to think that they have the right to present their position, their opinion, in an open forum. For any and all to hear, if they so choose. I passionately love this country, and I am eternally grateful that we have this right to speak our minds that we call freedom of speech. But I also acknowledge both the right AND the obligation that this right demands. There is also something that is inarguably linked to this freedom of speech thing and that is MY right to LISTEN. I am more than capable of making my own decisions and interpreting their comments, and I strongly resent anyone that denies me that right. These counter-protests take away that right. They disallow opinion. They disallow information. They disallow freedom. They do NOT believe in fairness or freedom of speech. They do NOT believe in the concept of America. They have been, are today, and will continue to be wrong with their actions, in every instance. This is not a matter of debate or opinion. A freedom either exists or it doesn’t. There can be no exceptions. That is the definition of equality.
And what of these protesters that disagree with this particular ‘speech’? They possess the right, and the choice, to listen, to ignore, or to walk away, and that is their personal decision. But they also have a right to their own freedom of speech, and that right should be inviolate as well. But it should be on another day, and at another venue. At a time and place where they too can express their thoughts, and their feelings, in the knowledge that they can express that right in a way of their own choosing. Then people can decide if they wish to listen. Or not. And to watch, or walk away. What is NOT their choice is to prevent those ‘others’, for whatever reason, to have the ability to exercise THEIR freedom of speech. YOUR freedom of speech DOES NOT, and never will, give you the right to stifle, or censor, another’s individual right to speak their mind. Yes, you do have that freedom yourself, and you should be proud to live in a country that recognizes such a right. It is a rare thing indeed, and even today, there are millions of citizens, of countries near and far, that have yet to experience such a benefit in life. Freedom of speech allows the battle of ideas to continue, with each individual the final arbiter of his own thoughts and the creator of his own eventual position on any particular issue. When these protesters deny freedom of speech, they steal from me, and from everyone, the right to make those decisions. I refuse to be complicit in the dissolution of one of the greatest gifts a country can bestow on its citizens. The right to be heard. The right to speak.
If only the ‘HATERS’ could accept that. But they never will. A ‘HATER’ is as a ‘HATER’ does. And unfortunately, that probably will always be the case. We need to take control back from these groups who do not believe in freedom. Our problem does not lie with these black and white groups that profess the need for their own brand of equality. It is with the hate that resides in the hearts and minds of many of the individuals within these groups. They do not want us to decide for ourselves. They want to tell us what to do, what to think, what to believe. They want nothing less than compliance with their ideologies and agendas. They seek nothing less than total control.
There is something that exists today, that could possibly bring clarity to the issue, but it is becoming more rare with each passing day. It can bring understanding, even when it does nothing to bring about agreement, or even compromise. There may be no meeting of the minds if that were even possible. It is a trite saying, but the only thing possible is to ‘agree to disagree’. Philosophy allows that to actually be a working theory. That we can disagree and yet allow each other to exist on their own terms, with our constitution, and our laws, as the only arbiter. There is no other alternative. And yet, that seems to be only a dream, since for that eventuality to become reality, it will take integrity, and character, and something that is displayed as a banner of pride for many today, and that is the virtue of tolerance. But what of this tolerance? It seems that these people who preach tolerance will simply not tolerate such a reality.
True tolerance, not to mention the little inconvenience known as freedom of speech, should have demanded that these people, again, whether right or wrong, to be allowed to speak their mind, walk their walk, say their peace, walk some more, and go home to contemplate their positions, and the alternatives. People need to LISTEN to what they have to say, take the time to reflect on their words, and ultimately decide on their own positions, and more importantly, to decide WHY they believe what they have decided. I have seen many demonstrations over the last few years, and for decades before that, where the demonstrations included, by design, major destruction of both public and private property, often in their own neighborhoods, not to mention the burning of cars, including police vehicles. The throwing of bricks and bottles, the beating of innocent bystanders, whose only fault was to be in the wrong place at a definitely wrong time. And ultimately, as it is inevitable, the loss of human life. Such a waste, and yet it happens all too often. And so it was in Virginia. Is this what we call freedom? Is this how we listen to contrary opinions? Is this the way we demonstrate the strength that is America? Not in my reality.
And where is there a voice of reason to address these protesters? Who has the courage in our media to stand up and ask the questions? Not a one! Does the state capitol have the answer? It does not. Do our representatives in Washington have the resolve and integrity to address the issue of freedom for all? Where have you been? Not a chance of the proverbial snowball in hell. A woman lost her life, and others hang in the balance. Two police officers died in relation to the situation. All could be alive today, if only ...... they gave a counter-demonstration, and no one came to hate. If only they fought with words and reason, instead of hatred and violence. I understand the frustrations. I cannot accept the ignorance.
And that is what these so-called white supremacists did. Right or wrong, they came to air their grievances. They came to voice their anger. They came to vent their frustrations. They may have come to give voice to their own special flavor of hate, and they felt it was their right to do so. And to be brutally honest, they do have that right. And for me to someday exercise my own brand of freedom of speech, it is IMPERATIVE that today we allow them their day in the sun to do so as well. And so it came to be. But there was no evidence that they came to destroy. There were no bricks and bottles. There was no pulling of innocent motorists from their cars and beaten to an inch of death, or beyond. No flaming automobiles. Or buildings. And yet they are being branded the haters.
Please, do not for a second think that there is any support here for either group. I have no kinship with the confederacy. Their fight is certainly not my fight. Their goals and ideals have never held any interest for me. In fact, there is not much that I can agree with as to their whole mindset. And yet ..... I love America. I love this country. It is, without question, the greatest country that has ever existed in the history of mankind. But for freedom to work, every single citizen, as an individual, simply HAS to grant to anyone and everyone the right to live their lives as they see fit. Without that thing I mentioned, what was it? Oh yeah, that thing called Tolerance. It has been, is, and will continue to be completely impossible to ever live together in peace without it. Tolerance is not something that you grant to those that agree with you and think you are the greatest thing since sliced bread. Because you are not. Unless you grant that thing called tolerance specifically to those that you probably do not understand and completely disagree with. And there is something extremely fundamental here. If you decide to NOT grant those ‘other’ people that right I mentioned, the freedom to make their own decisions about their own lives and families, then how can you ever expect them to do the same for you? You destroy your own rights as you negate the rights of others. If you bestow no rights, you shall receive none in return. The result? Virginia is a prime example. I am sure you can think of many other instances without any assistance.
So who was responsible for the conflict in Virginia? An extremely strong case could be made that it was those Haters that came with the express purpose to hate the Haters. Without their presence, and participation, there would have been no loss of life. The media and the majority of people who may have heard them would have dismissed them, and life would have continued to go on. The tragic result of their actions, and this is highly ironic, is that they came to disrupt and prevent these confederate supremacists from spreading their word and convincing any new converts, and yet their actions on that day were the greatest recruiting tool that those people could have ever hoped for. It was an exclamation point to the fact that they are under siege and will be given no quarter. The counter-protesters ensured on that day that someday, somewhere, someone else will die, and it will be, in part, directly related to their actions on that day, and they will bear responsibility for that eventuality. And as a side note to my side note, are these demonstrators not the same people that decry the killing of terrorists since that will simply create new recruits against our cause? I fail to see how their actions do not guarantee a like result. Go figure. Which is why I promote thinking, and philosophy. It is a simple relationship between cause and effect. Can they not see that? Do they not realize they fight and defeat themselves more than their perceived enemies?
And please remember a simple fact. The original ‘event’ was in large part to protest the destruction of historical statuary, being done systematically and arbitrarily throughout not only the south but the entire country. This is Revisionism at its worst. Do we allow prejudiced individuals, placed in a position of responsibility and power, the ability and authority to destroy historical monuments? In many cases, these representatives serve but for a few years, and yet seem to have little or no obligations or restrictions to the population as a whole. When did it become the purview of such a ridiculously small number of partisan local officials, often in a small group of only six or eight people, to make such momentous decisions? This is blatant political corruption. Is there no system of checks and balances to protect regional heritage? I do not see how they have the right to do such things without the consent of the citizens who have lived there a lifetime. I personally do not even care of the actual icons, and yet passionately disagree with the wanton disrespect paid to the citizenry. If the people vote to do such a thing, then so be it. I would still think it is wrong, but the will of the people should be a determining factor. Where was the debate? Where was the vote? Where was the freedom? Destroying artwork will always be the antithesis to a country based on the concepts of freedoms. Were there no alternatives? Could they not be removed to a park where they would be welcomed, or even to private property? Was destruction the only course? It does not bode well when the political representatives are examples of the very same seething hatred that is all too evident on the streets of America as we speak.
The Haters went home, but they will be back. In force. More freedoms will be destroyed. More lives will be lost. There will be no debate. There will be no negotiations. There will be no quarter given. But there WILL be lives lost. Many lives. Indiscriminate. Unnecessary. The use of reason will be waived. The use of reason will be damned. And if there is one thing that I know, with the same certainty and confidence that I have that Tomorrow Will Never Come, it is that they are destroying America, and this is not by accident. The Haters are winning, and you and I are the only ones that can stop them.
We are witnessing a murder.
The death of the American Dream.
https://lonecypressworkshop.com/2017/09/26/the-haters/
https://lonecypressworkshop.com/the-conversation/
Karl Marx Cleans Graffiti off his Grave
He wondered if there was a point to any of it—all the wringing and wiping. There were always more words cracked across the stone. He’d seen it all: a curled mustache on his statue’s upper lip, a swastika beneath his death date, a pink penis tattooed on his statue’s right cheek. One time he’d woken up to the smell of smoke and the fire department. A group of visitors had tried to set fire to his grave.
Each morning, Karl woke up early to clean his grave. He would walk towards the edges of the east side of Highgate Cemetery and turn left a few meters before he’d reached the entrance to access the tool shed. The walls were rust-red and rotting, and Karl knew it was a problem, but he did nothing to fix it. He had better things to do.
Every time he stepped into the tool shed, he had the same thought: what tools do I need? The shed was filled with junk: shovels, hoes, bags of soil, gloves, all surrounding the centerpiece: a dusty lawnmower. Sometimes Karl would sit on the lawnmower and imagine himself drinking a beer with his friends. They’d pop open the tabs and shotgun beers until they were tipsy. Karl would lick the foam off of his lips and his friends would laugh at him, spray him with the rest of their own. But then his friends would morph to shadows, and he’d shake off the thought quickly. He wasn’t lonely. It was always business with Karl. A casual routine. And although he always asked himself what tools he needed each time he entered the tool shed, he would always end up grabbing the same two items: a bucket and a rag.
The journey back to his grave was quiet. Karl didn’t speak to anyone else in the cemetery. No other zombies visited his grave in the mornings. In the orange light, he could see some of the others heading out of the grounds for tea or breakfast. Sometimes he witnessed Leslie Stephen and George Eliot playing rugby. Anytime the diamond-shaped ball was thrown near Karl’s grave, he saw the two hesitate and begin to bicker. It’s your turn to retrieve it, Stephen would spit to Eliot. I got it last time, Eliot would snarl back.
Two Monday mornings ago, Karl had stopped cleaning the graffiti off of his grave to pick up the ball that had landed near his headstone. He gripped it in his hand and launched his arm back, tossing it to the men. It spun through the air, making Karl feel somewhat proud of his throw, although he didn’t know if the ball was actually supposed to spin, or if he was even supposed to throw it. He’d never played rugby. Eliot and Stephen had watched Karl toss them the ball, but when it landed near their feet, they didn’t bend down to pick it up. They didn’t move. Instead, they looked at it like it was a plagued rat, backing away from it slowly. They didn’t even thank Karl.
Maybe they were the ones graffitiing his grave. Bastards. There was a long list of culprits, but Karl had never taken the time to investigate who was actually doing the vandalizing. Sometimes at night he could hear voices, some familiar, some unfamiliar, cackling as they shook their spray paint cans. Karl was used to the shaking sound—like a pebble in a mason jar.
With his bucket filled with water and a wet rag, Karl began to scrub his own headstone. It was fresh enough that it rubbed off easily today, meaning that the culprits must have painted it only hours ago. Karl hadn’t slept at all that night. He’d heard them whispering, hatching their plans. No, paint it on his cheek, he’d heard one of them say.
Karl could have stopped them. He had been awake. He could have easily risen from the ground, stretched, and taken care of the nonsense. But for Karl, cleaning off his grave every morning gave him somewhat of a sense of purpose. It was important to him that his legacy be preserved. Legacy? What legacy? his inner voice sneered. You’re the father of Communism, and you’re letting your grave get a bunch of dicks painted on it? Some strong man you are.
Karl would shake off these thoughts. Maybe his legacy had changed, he told himself. Maybe he wasn’t always meant to be the strong man. Maybe now he was meant to be the janitor-man, the cleaner-man, the keep-quiet-and-mind-your-business-man.
He had moved on to washing off the final bit of graffiti marked on his grave. The criminals had painted over the engraving on his headstone. It was supposed to read, “THE PHILOSOPHERS HAVE ONLY INTERPRETED THE WORLD IN VARIOUS WAYS – THE POINT HOWEVER IS TO CHANGE IT,” but the criminals had painted over most of the letters so that the remainders spelled “ANUS.”
Karl scraped off the last bit with his nails. He rose from his knees and returned his bucket and rag to the tool shed. From this vantage point, he could see most of Highgate and its people, most of them asleep. Still, he could see the few and far awake: Douglas Adams was dusting off his own grave, coloring his arms in with markers he’d been given as an offering. Karl wished someone would place markers on his grave, maybe even pink roses.
As he walked back towards his grave, he saw that his headstone shined from meters away. He could read the engravement clearly: THE PHILOSOPHERS HAVE ONLY INTERPRETED THE WORLD IN VARIOUS WAYS – THE POINT HOWEVER IS TO CHANGE IT.
Karl knew the improvement was temporary. He knew he would wake up the next day and there would be graffiti all over his grave again. As usual, he would clean it. As usual, the morning after the next, his work would be undone. The damage was cyclical. Still, Karl would clean. He would repeat the process over and over, again and again, until one day, he would either tire of the chore or wake to a polished grave. He wondered how many more years he would be living like this, pondering the same question every morning. He wondered if there was a point to any of it.
roses have thorns
there was a prince cursed as a Beast,
wealthy yet a pauper. It was like he was carrying
a wreath of rocks.
unleashed,
my love is a Beast,
fierce like dagger-shaped icicles,
yet gentle like the Rose.
the irony...
in something so fragrant and delicate,
determining a destiny so
momentous, the destiny itself could crush
mountains, forget a few petals.
my love is a Rose,
a juicy ruby
encased in crystal.
my love is the very fateful Rose
belonging to the misfortuned Beast.
who so ferociously waits for
a turn in destiny, where
sharp thorns disintegrate, and
velvety petals overtake, as
cushion for the heart.
The Hard Road
Someone once asked
“Why do you always insist on taking the hard road.”
I replied
“Why do you assume that I see two roads?”
~ no one ~
There are no easy roads. Not in this life. The easy road is one of little or no challenge. No wonder. No excitement. No substance. No enlightenment. No value. So, in reality, the easy road is just kickin’ the can down the road, waiting for whatever may come next, with no direction and no expectations. Not caring what has already happened, and caring as much, or as little, for what will happen in the future. There is no path to follow on the easy road. There are no goals to achieve. There is little satisfaction. In the end, you find yourself pretty much where you started your journey of life, with a long way to go. In many ways, the easy road becomes the hardest road to travel, since it accomplishes nothing. So, therefore, by definition, there are no easy roads.
Someone once asked, “Why do you always insist on taking the hard road.”
I replied, “Why do you assume that I see two roads?”
I do not always insist on taking the hard road. First of all, I tend to call it the path. My path. But call it what you will, it is the adventure of your lifetime, starting from where you are today, to where you can be, tomorrow. Each step brings progress, and each step brings growth. A step does not guarantee a positive result, but even a negative experience can ultimately bring you closer to understanding and enlightenment. It may be the hard road, but it is the one I have chosen, the one I wish to follow. It is my road, and for me at least, it is the right road.
If there are in fact, two roads, I have long ago ceased to see the other road, since my philosophy unerringly leads me along the path that will bring me to that which I seek. Knowledge. Understanding. Peace. Contentment. Philosophy is the keystone to that goal. It brings clarity. It brings purpose. It makes the complex simple. And decisions easy. I embrace man as a thinking creature. I respect nothing as I respect intelligence and thought. It is what separates us from all the other animals. It is what separates us from many of our own kind. I revere the mind. I worship the power of thought. I embrace philosophy. It is who and what I am today, and what I will become in the future. I am attempting to be what I believe I should be, and I will be. It is what we need to save us all. From ourselves. I am, and continue to be, a Warrior. A Warrior of thought. A Warrior of the Mind.
To the warrior there is only one road, one path. My path, the path of the Warrior. And it is not the easy road. Most people may see a choice between an easy road, and a more difficult one. The warrior does not look at his life in those terms.
The average person looks at life from a personal perspective. What is best for them, and their own life. I cannot deny them the luxury of thinking in those terms, but there is another perspective. It is the perspective of the Warrior, who decides only to do what is right, and nothing less is acceptable. To the warrior, the only choices that exist are to do right, or to abdicate responsibility and obligation and do wrong. Since a Warrior is dedicated to only what is right, they do not even see a second road, and if they do, it is unappealing and of little or no value. The concept of hard or easy is of little significance. It is only the concept of ‘right’ that gives the decision value. If the path is easy, so be it. If the road is difficult, it was meant to be. Whether the road is easy or not, the choice of their path always is. It is the path of ‘right‘.
We all have the ability to be Warriors of the Mind. It is not a matter of physical strength. It is inner strength. The power of the mind. The resourcefulness of the heart. The resolve of the soul. It is something that we all need to contemplate and understand. It is the best way to be a part of the resolution of all things that plague this struggling species we call mankind. Mankind is inventive and resourceful. Creative and ambitious. It is powerful and has knowledge and intellect. What it does with these things is frightfully disappointing. The Warrior can direct these things towards that which is right, and beneficial. And he can do so by using a strength that nothing can withstand. Character. Integrity. Honor. Wisdom. Honesty. The purpose of the path is to achieve these things. To discover the way. To incorporate these things into our daily lives. To make it a way of life. All life.
The challenge is before us all. To do the right thing. It is the simplest of all things. And the hardest to accomplish. Somewhere inside we all know what that is. We all know the difference between right and wrong. You know it when you see it. Now is the time to make it so. Start today. Not tomorrow, for as we all know, tomorrow never comes. Become a Warrior of the Mind. It will change your life. Use your mind. Fill your heart.
Calm your soul.
Take the next step, of the rest of your life.
https://lonecypressworkshop.com/2017/07/18/the-hard-road/
https://lonecypressworkshop.com/2017/05/25/the-road-less-traveled/
