Archive for January, 2006
CCD Prayer 2006
Jan 31st
CCD Prayer 2006 (1/31/2006)
Lord Jesus, I come to you in spite of procrastination
I don’t know what to say, I’m surrounded by aggravation
It’s no exaggeration that I’ve been hurt by accusations
From the voices down inside me, it’s not my imagination
But am I such an aberration that I’m bound to my own failings
Everybody’s moving on and I feel as though I’m trailing
I watch them as they’re sailing, but I have no wind for guidance
I try to listen for you but I can only find this silence
Still, I try to show your vibrance and get inside their heads
The kids that sit before me with the whole world on their desks
And I’m preaching from my chest and I’m always trying harder
To be the man they need to see that you’re their father
Cause I know you’ll get them farther than I could ever try to
But I’m intent on being honest and hoping that they find you
While the world tries to disguise you, I look for revelation
To explain to them the beauty inside of all creation
As much as I have tried to, though, I think that I’ll be selfish
And ask you for your help in a time when I feel helpless
I could whisper, I could yell this, I just pray that you can hear me
I need a little light to help my heart see clearly
I mean it so sincerely when I speak of my confusion
Every rhyme that I dictate is my try at absolution
I can’t fight the mind’s delusion that I’ll simply never match up
The strain’s too much to take as I’m always playing catch up
Against what I think’s stacked up, this whole world of opposition
Running, stuck in neutral, my heart’s in the stop position
I pray that I’ll find hope, and I pray to not be perfect
Cause every made mistake is your lesson and my purpose
Notes: Every year, I make my religion class write their very own prayers. I always join them in this assignment.
Empty Boredom
Jan 31st
Empty Boredom (1/31/2006)
Please tell me who to be and force me to believe
Tell me everything that you’ve expected out of me
Knock me off my feet and leave me feeling shameful
I can’t stand the inner peace of when I’m feeling stable
When nothing’s flowing right and nothing can consume me
I need an enemy to befriend me and abuse me
Somebody who can truly knock me to the ground again
So I can stand back up and claim “I won’t go down my friend”
And let the hate dance ’round my head cause damn it’s energizing
The passion and the fire of the war that we’re both fighting
The choking and the lying and the screaming and the cursing
The only things I’m good at, but I need someone to verse me
Then I’ll let my anger nurse me and take away my boredom
Releasing what’s been lurking in the veins where I had stored ‘em
Everything is for them and every word is spiteful
The tears inside the glass that are more than just an eyeful
I hate my fucking job and I hate to see them playing
The fucking game I love lost inside the trash their saying
I have no fucking fans and there’ll never be a show
I may never understand but that’s just how it goes
Now I’m shaking in my toes and I’m twitching like an addict
Still looking for the soul to release my inner panic
And if I ever manage to ignite that inner fire
I’ll blow you all away as if you were a liar
Raising it much higher before I close the curtain
I need a new desire to make every reason certain
Cause I’m stuck inside a person without a place to go
And I need to feel the hate to feel the thing I know
Notes: This one is a little quick paced, again. Listening to Limp Bizkit’s first album has sped me up a bit after having slowed down my flow considerably over the past few months. The rhyme itself deals with the complete boredom in having a daily routine and yearning for something to send me over the edge and add some spice into my life.
Emo? Maybe before.
Jan 28th
Recently, I’ve heard a lot of people mention how poetry writing and such is something only “emo” people do. It’s really stuck in my head and I started wondering if I was also emo. Looking back at my old pieces, maybe I was, to some degree. To be fair, though, it was real depression and the Zoloft only seemed to worsen things at times. Once I got off the pill, things actually started to improve simply because I was able to get a better grasp on life again.
My late teens was spent, most of the time, feeling really depressed and alone. Once I started writing, I wrote a lot of dark pieces in which I discussed no longer wanting to live and all of that happy material. It was repetitive, but it was honest. I felt like crap. What else should I have written? If I wrote something else, I would have been called “fake”. By being honest, I earned an “emo” label, instead. Catch 22 it seems.
My writing has, undoubtedly, changed over the past year, year and a half. I fought through my depression and moved on to other, larger things. Anger is one of the subjects that I continue to write about. Feeling completely pissed off and wanting to smash your fist through the wall is such a powerfu and pure feeling. While depression often leaves you with nothing, or a scattered collection of too many things, anger helps focus the mind. Considering the stage I’m at in life, most of my pieces now get into the anger somehow. Sure, I have a few poems, here and there, that go into relationships with other people in my life, however, my anger is the demon I always come back to. It was a long battle through my depression and I’m insistent on making it through my anger, also.
So, what does this make? Am I emo because I write about feelings and not things? Maybe, but if that’s the label I have to accept in order to be able to do what I love, then so be it. My writing has been a crutch, a friend, a shield and a helping hand. It’s my passion and my joy. Perhaps I’m terrible at it, perhaps I’m not. Nonetheless, I love it. Call me emo, call me ghetto, call me a wigga, call me whatever you want. I’m okay with it now.
Happy Birthday Joe
Jan 28th
Just a quick Happy 23rd Birthday to my best friend Joe. I would have something more to say, but I just woke up.
Porcelain
Jan 26th
Porcelain (1/26/2006)
Now I’m stuck inside confusion with no hope for my delusion
I had let you in my life but now I see it’s been intrusion
Mentally polluted with these doubts of imperfection
I walked in your direction, an attempt to find correction
But now that my obsession has slowly gone to faded
I’m thinking fucking straight and I don’t know how to take it
Let’s stand and fucking face it, I’m not anything you’ve needed
I’m a punk inside a flow and I’m feeling fucking cheated
But I felt so near completed with your smile and your mindset
Even though it wasn’t much, not even in my life yet
I tried to give you my best, but now I sit in silence
And I don’t know what to say, can you see inside my eyes yet?
It’s been so hard to say this and still it’s not so easy
But I’m feeling fucking played, you can laugh and fucking tease me
Though it really doesn’t please me to have to say it like this
We simply just don’t talk enough to ever really right this
And I’ve tried my best to fight this and deal with my frustration
I’ve kept it under wraps, my anger held in reservation
Over bearing preservation for what never had existed
It kills me, either way, to see this all resisted
I think that I’ll just shut up now and try my best to sleep
Maybe in my dreams, I will find the words to speak
The simple words I need to leave the fire reignited
The something there between us that could dominate the silence
And, if somehow, I find it, I hope that it’s remembered
Then I’ll practice it and practice it until it comes together
I’ll repair what has been severed and try again, just harder
To make the fire spark and make things progress much farther
Or is the right word “further”? At this point, it doesn’t matter
I’m too god damn confused as I stare at what’s been shattered
Like a perfect porcelain platter that falls right off the edge
So perfect was the passion that is now so lost and dead
Notes: It’s a bit cheesy at times, but I think it covers some of the confusing mindsets I’ve been in. Anger, confusion, thoughtlessness and apathy followed by the emptiness of missing someone and wanting to figure out how to overcome the latest obstacle.
Sniping
Jan 23rd
Sniping (1/23/2006)
I use these words from a nerve and they’re stolen like a bandit
Though I gotta slow it down so you can simply understand it
Why should I fucking stand it when this isn’t how I planned it
A step to the back cause your shit’s been underhanded
But now my ship has landed and it’s time for invasion
No means of evasion, rage for levitation
Ways of devastation, fuck your playful persuasion
I tear through the verse, no restraint, reservation
Cause their ain’t no temptation to make me resist this
You’re the light to my pipe and I’m gonna fucking hit this
And everyone can witness from the start to the finish
You can fucking flex your arm, but you’re still so fucking dickless
And nobody’s gonna fix this, there’s nobody here to calm me
Sixty turned to nothing, try your best to fucking harm me
It’s your best to disregard me, my attacks are never fading
I got the flames for the game and I hope you’re fucking playing
Cause I know what you’ve been saying and now you’re on my shit list
Every vowel like a laser, I’m a sniper with a hit list
When it comes to games and business, nobody said to mix this
But you’ve crossed the fucking line by too many fucking inches
Now you’re one of many bitches and I hope you fucking see this
I’ll even slow it down so you can take the time to read this
I know you can’t believe this, I know that you don’t need this
But it’s simply my desire to make sure that I complete this
Cause I’m not the guy to beef with unless you got the skill son
I won’t get on my knees, bitch, I fight because it’s still fun
And everytime I kill one, I build up my fucking ego
Another bitch with no reply, goodbye, my buff amigo
Notes: It’s a quicker, shorter flow than I’ve been using lately. I’m simply addressing someone who intervened where he shouldn’t have.
I Need a Thing
Jan 22nd
What’s up my loyal bitches? I’ve bene putting off writing this journal entry all weekend long, so I figure it was best to get it in with an hour left in the weekend lol.
Things have been a little chaotic lately in the sense that my brain is completely scattered. Work, basketball, CCD, Neowin, The Elders (Day of Defeat: Source clan I’m in), Maria and everything else just makes me feel like I have a severe case of A.D.H.D. Right now, for instance, I’m fidgety and bored, but thinking of a thousand and one things at once. My thoughts are sort of like the basketball team I coach when they’re on the court: running around with no sense of direction or purpose. It’s almost as though I want to scream at myself, “Chris, shut the fuck up!”.
Work has been retarded lately. My hours keep getting cut back. I only have 13 hours this week. Then, when I’m there, I’m bombarded with customers who get dumber and dumber. Example of a conversation:
Me: Hi, welcome to Best Buy, can I help you?
Customer: No, it’s okay.
Me: Okay. If you have any questions though, let me know.
Customer: Actually, yeah, I need a wire.
Me: Sure. Do you know what wire you need?
Customer: No, I don’t have a clue.
Me: Hmmm, well, what are you trying to connect.
Customer: My TV.
Me: What are you trying to connect to your TV?
Customer: To get a picture.
Me: What? What device are you trying to get a picture from?
Customer: Don’t ask me *chuckle* I don’t have a clue about this stuff.
Seriously, I get customers like that way more frequently than you think. Or I get the customers who insist something exists when it doesn’t. Like a composite video to coaxial wire. I show them the RF modulator box we have, but they insist it has to be a single wire. Even after I explain that such a wire doesn’t exist in direct conversion form and that the small modulator will do just that, they still insist on leaving without buying anything. Gah! I just don’t understand how anyone could go shopping with no basic knowledge of what they are looking for. Anytime I go out to buy a product I don’t know much about, I do my research to make it easier for me and anyone who may wind up assisting me. Why doesn’t everyone else do this, too? It’s fucking common sense.
To get a better sense of how I feel, read shockz blog entry from Neowin. Same frustration, different product.
Joe and I have been playing basketball a little more lately. It feels good. We actually played a game from 11:30 – 12:30 Friday night, at the park. It felt good. The park was empty. The lighting was good enough. It was a fun experience. It’s also a great stress reliever and, obviously, a good enough work out.
I don’t know what else to say, so I’ll leave you with two prolific quotes from “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle”:
Harold: Did Doogie Howser just steal my fucking car?
Kumar: So, she’s kind of fucking cute. Let her touch your penis. (my personal favorite)
Acquittal
Jan 20th
Acquittal (1/20/2006)
Everybody’s telling lies with their phoney alibis
Their tears are falseified and they’re used as their disguise
Tinted windows on their eyes concealing what they hide
In the chambers of their mind where everybody’s blind
They’re all hoping we won’t find anything that’s classified
Flowing with the tide to keep the ocean on their side
And they’re showing us no sign of the worlds as they collide
The beauty fits the face but the face won’t fit the crime
It just won’t fit…
It just won’t fit…
From the trailer trash can to the wealthiest of man
Everybody’s tuning in and it’s only cause they can
They’ll never understand how it’s all done underhand
Cause this guy had played a role that earned him lots of fans
But his wife inside the van and the glove upon his hand
Should make this shit so easy, here’s the verdict as he stands
We can’t find this guy guilty and we pray you understand
The facts all fit the crime but the crime won’t fit the man
It just won’t fit…
It just won’t fit…
It just wont fit!
(It won’t fit…)
It won’t fit!
(It won’t fit…)
It just won’t fit
(It won’t fit)
It won’t fit
(It won’t…….)
“You must aquit” is what he said
It won’t fit, the verdict’s dead
All this shit that we’re fed
It won’t stick in my head
I’m getting sick from what’s been said
Another dick, another dead
The pieces fit, there’s nothing left
Except the voice inside my….
It just wont fit!
(It won’t fit…)
It won’t fit!
(It won’t fit…)
It just won’t fit
(It won’t fit)
It won’t fit
(It won’t…….)
Notes: It’s a heavy rap rock song. I think the message should be clear enough.
Your Fiction
Jan 19th
Your Fiction (1/19/2006)
I can’t help but look at you staring up at the sky high
It’s pathetic to listen as you scream and you cry why
You pray for attention as you write that you might die
Go ahead, crack your head, I don’t need you in my life
Cause I’m tired of your lies and your refusal of changes
Get your head out the clouds, girl, you’re becoming contagious
It’s a lethal salvation, each of those twenty paces
Every step to the drink and the pill it’s been laced with
And you won’t even taste it, it’s a cure for his patience
Not a yes, not a no, you’re becoming complacent
But, c’mon, fucking face it, you chose this position
I can tell by your words and you whole disposition
We both know this nutrition isn’t your soul’s own decision
But you thrive on the pity that you know you’ll be given
The generic concern of those who don’t even know you
Those who control you and drug you and fuck you and throw you
I’m too tired too listen, now, please stop all your bitching
It’s the same fucking shit that you have always been pitching
‘Bout how the sunshine is missing and you bleed for the pity
The red, from your wrists, dripping, you’re feeling so shitty
So lonely there sitting, you await your next doseage
Using your blood in hopes of making us notice
Well, label us jokers, ’cause it’s time to go wild
Stop using my passion to behave like a child
Cause this shit is my style and my own ventilation
The flowing and rhyming compose my soul’s registration
This glowing frustration that leads me to fight you
Will burn your shit down, dig a hole deep inside you
And let me remind you, that in spite of conviction
I’ll revert to the flames with my style of diction
Stop writing your fiction and your bullshit description
Of the life that you lead full of youthful nutrition
Notes: Just venting out my frustration at the people who use writing to over exagerate their problems in an attempt to gain (my?) pity.
In Spite of It
Jan 18th
In Spite of It (1/17/2006)
There’s so much pressure on my shoulders to come up with the best shit
Making up a better rhyme while solving all of your questions
To have a message that is both moving and honest
The minute that I slack off, I’m abused and admonished
But, there’s a promise that I made when I was leaving my college
That I would focus on this skill until my talent was hottest
What I lack in all the knowledge, I make up for with passion
Though I’m trying to stay modest in spite of quoteable captions
Cause I know all my actions can speak louder than writing
But I find so much relief inside the rhymes that I’m fighting
Whether I’m angry or crying, it’s the one thing that I do right
Even if you don’t agree or choose to read, I will still write
Cause every time I don’t feel right, I can still drug up with scribbles
And escape from the moment or try to solve it a little
Right now, I’m stuck in the middle, of the past that I hide from
The memories of this girl I used to scream out of my lungs
Now I try to disguise them and try to be so objective
I made a promise to her and I’ve always wished I had kept it
I said I’d always be present and I’m a man of my word
Though, it’s a challenge to balance the recollections of hurt
The twinge that pounds every nerve until it’s message is heard
Until I’m fighting confusion and every thought’s become slurred
It’s so fucking absurd that I can’t seem to take this
Still, I swallow the thoughts as I stand up and face it
And I don’t want to escape it, fuck, I’m making this statement
I’ll help her cause I care and feel I owe her this payement
In spite of all of these changes, the words still have the same meaning
“I’ll always be there” still defines never leaving
Notes: I touch upon two very different promises, but both wreaking havoc on my mind right now. First, my promise to never give up on my writing and to always make sure I’m constantly getting better at it. I feel I’ve stagnated at that a bit and I need to pick up the pace. Secondly, is a more meaningful promise that I made to someone a long time ago and, well, I guess it’s time to keep it even though it can be hard at times. Read it at a slower pace.
