Reasons Why I Write: A Poem of the Flame that Ruptures My Insides

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It’s another night when it all bombards down on me;

I realize the good humans out there keep the world spinning.

They don’t ask for much, but they get screwed over

by a barbaric fistful without any lube.

Where does that leave me?

My cynical, jaded ass continues to write,

my hope is that someone will understand the truth;

it’s my own personal burden that God gave to me to continue

until I slip six feet under.

I know deep within my mushy guts

lies something to shock the world.

It’s my fuel to type these words.

Hell, my fingers bleed on this damn keyboard!

These keys are pushed in and mangled,

documents filled with offbeat ramblings,

yet I still soldier on.

I post my “knowledge” on my blog;

the folks take a gander, like, and comment.

They say:

“You got potential!”

“Your writing is insightful!”

or “Your style is so free!”

It’s whatever to me,

I’m just fueled by the flames burning my intestines.

Sooner or later, it will burn out—

I will rise from my burnt ashes

like a Phoenix!

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Affliction in Addiction…The Fiend of Pleasure

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It’s an entity with a fetish for possession. You never know when it’ll creep into your body or linger within the depths of your soul. It’ll slowly suck the life out you without any regard for your personal being. Once it leaves you, you’re in a wake of the massive slaughter caused by your hands. A terrible experience for anyone to undergo, yet it happens. Ladies and gentlemen, this fiendish entity of devastation goes by the name of addiction.

People under the influence of addiction have no control. These individuals are broken down in a slave mindset that will unfortunately led them to ruin. The addiction causes them to reach a point of no return—a loaded gun to the head with their finger on the trigger. Addiction doesn’t necessary include the gluttonous desire for the physical, but abstract matters also come into play (yes, even social media network).

In the brain, dopamine regulates all pleasure. Dopamine is a chemical in the brain that plays a key role in the brain’s system of motivation. The chance of addiction is connected to the speed of released dopamine which is fueled by any addictive substance. When a substance exits the system, sadness creeps in and the only remedy is dopamine. Dopamine is the prime culprit in the internal workings of addiction.

Dopamine isn’t only a gateway to the euphoric experience, but it’s the central for learning and memory. If a drug produces a flow of dopamine, then the brain will understand that signal as a delightful reinforcement. Each repeat of the experience triggers the brain back into nostalgia. Once the brain is strolling down memory lane, emotions, feelings, and physical actions set the body in a forward motion. Repetitive exposure to addiction causes the neural wires to mutate desires into a necessity; this motivates us to pursue pleasure to the fullest.

Sadly, if the user succumbs to possession, the lust for bliss will never subside. Normalcy is extinct, motivation doesn’t function, and life stumbles to a halt. I’ve been under the influence of addiction: an immense nightlife drenched in whiskey. There’s something about the atmosphere; it engulfed my body beyond my will. Another change of scenery included a euphoric ecstasy to take me away on cloud nine. I was granted every carnal pleasure known to man. I couldn’t get enough of the blissful intoxication. I’ve managed to control myself these days, yet I still crave to be embraced by the arms of hedonism.

In the end, addicts never win.  Either bad choices are continuously made or we become brutish beasts driven by ravenous impulses. Addiction lies between freedom of choice and servile behavior. Consequences follow every action caused in life. We don’t always make the right decisions, and some of us are indecisive. Everyone isn’t a victim of “possession” nor a constant bungler of society. Acknowledgement to the underlying dualities of the human predicament sheds light on addiction. Even if we acknowledge our faults, sometimes, old habits die hard.

I’m a loose bolt of a complete machine…

Truth: The Gritty Realization of a Crapsack World that Spins Madly

I take a glance at my keyboard and ponder what to type. It’s a barren, war-torn wasteland that reigns over these tainted keys; there’s blood smeared on them, a couple of keys are missing, and my laptop has a virus. I guess my minor mishaps are a drawback of typing out the Truth. Somewhere beneath all the muck, gunk, and feces lies the Truth. I’ll let my hands get filthy, my brain defiled, yet I still manage to grind out the day in search of the Truth.

Wolves in sheep clothing preach the gospel to all that will listen; false prophets perform miracles to deceive. This pile of scat should infuriate your nostrils. Hell, it should make you sick! Nevertheless, you lap it up.

Don’t you realize these beasts will devour you? They smell your weakness, vulnerabilities, and deepest fears. They’ll always tell you what you want to hear because they know what pulls your strings to make you move. Somehow, regardless of all the shit in your face, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself…why?

History justifies that people will change their minds about anything. From values and religion to the clothes they wear. When it comes to the opinion of themselves, there is always a confidence of self-worth.

So, where is your worth when it comes to the Truth? 

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Boils Down in the Burnt Pot: A Quick Depiction of Perspective

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Regardless of any year, there will always be a boner for the next President. The strange, blind belief that the next four years have any difference. If you let your grey matter meditate on it, there’s truth in the muck of cynicism. We all know deals will be made, strategical moves will be made, and the love or loathe of the new President will remain; progress will launch us forward for better or worse. Somehow, belief lies in a difference of the next four years from the previous years and the past decades will be corrected. A fact I learned from an old supervisor of mine—you have to keep your ears to the streets. If you listen closely, you’ll hear some of the best stories. Societies became nations thanks to the sweat and blood provided by those that sacrificed too much and received too little. How do I know this? I’ve heard it from the stories, obviously. I have family that work their fingers to the bone; they reside in the belly of Georgia. My folks have old houses with amenities built by their hands, both of my grandmas have embraced the forces of time for many ages, and my cousins ponder about life outside the country box. My folks and many others like them only know the hustle of the daily grind: thriving and surviving life until the Reaper comes to collect. We all live in a reality shaped by our own beliefs based on what’s thought to be true. So, whatever world is going to evolve from this unfortunate dance of politics, it’s either your heaven or hell.

Filth That Occured on the Streets

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A riot broke out today

Spontaneous violence;

Bloodied faces

Chaotic,

Animalistic,

Barbaric,

Savagery

I witness a man get his face stomped in

He’s beaten into submission

One of the offenders gropes

his erection out of excitement

A woman is stabbed

She curls up on the concrete

Her intestines stick

out from her wound

Does this unsettle you

Too bad

The truth is harsh

I see a child lie limp

on the sidewalk

Police arrive on scene:

righteous berserkers decorated in riot gear

Tear gas filters into the crowd

Bloodcurdling screams echo

from every direction

Reporters try to flee,

but they’re caught in the onslaught

Innocent bodies pile on the pavement

while deranged sociopaths and police

battle for supremacy

My heart thrashes against my chest…

This riot,

this shit-storm of

brutal sadism upon one another,

Admit it,

you enjoy it

Taking down a Confederate Flag

will prove we’re “progressive”

Legalizing gay marriage

will prove we’re “united”

Toss in a couple of transgenders

Throw in a few religious beliefs

Voice opinions

Vote for political swine

Feed the poor

We’ll trust anything

that justifies our worth

We’ll claim we’re better than animals;

we’re too “intelligent” to act primitive

We don’t mind differences

under “certain circumstances”

We slightly tolerate each other

No matter the pain things will get better

Press forward in life

If you acknowledge suffering,

you’ll get left behind

Blind steadfast confidence

in our consciousness;

erratic puppets 

yanked by strings  

Sheep led to the slaughter

I ease on my cigarette

I continue to observe

from my apartment balcony

Nihilistic thoughts of

a godforsaken predicament—

a can of worms that we opened

Day Late, Dollar Short…Loathing the GOP Debate

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In the erratic year of our Lord, 2015, my eyes witnessed an event of semi-epic proportions: the Republican Primary Debate. An overcast of dread dominated my living room, and my cynicism began to tingle about one fact—diarrhea will flow out of the mouth of politicians.

This spectacle was held in the Quicken Loans Arena; millions sat with raging hard-ons for these candidates. Two of the unholy trinity—Fox News and Facebook—summoned the candidates on stage. The third, CNN, was too busy with documentaries. Fox News’ hosts opened by asking candidates if they would screw over the Republican Party by running as a third party if they weren’t the nominee. Trump Raised his hand to throat chop the Republican Party. He refused to support the Republican nominee for the presidency or to rule out a third party run. Hah! Nice job, Fox News! Way to put Trump in the spotlight, again! As the small bit of blood spilt in the water, one shark, Rand Paul, took the opportunity to attack Trump. Rand Paul stated Trump buys and sells politicians of all stripes. Hmm…Trump pimps out anyone for gain. That’s nothing new because he is a businessman. Trump took another jab from host Megyn Kelly on his past comment about women…wait…I know you’re smart, so I know you can predict the outcome of the incident. Truth be told, more Trump antics occurred throughout the debate: harsh, brash, and brutal.

Questions were dished out to all candidates and their answers slammed each question. As all the bum-rushing excitement boiled over, the audience craved for more. A battle began to stir amongst two candidates—Rand Paul v. Chris Christie. The question to ignite the fire was over national security and government surveillance to fight against terrorism. “I want to collect more records from terrorists, but less records from innocent Americans,” Paul said. “The Fourth Amendment was what we fought the Revolution over. I’m proud of standing for the Bill of Rights, and I will continue to stand for the Bill of Rights.” A quick lesson: The Bill of Rights are the first ten amendments to protect the people from an oppressive government; the Fourth Amendment prohibits unreasonable searches and seizures without a warrant supported by sufficient reason.

Anyways, Christie called out Paul’s statement as being ridiculous. Paul fired shots into Christie’s chest spelling out the phrase: “Use the Fourth Amendment. Get a warrant! Get a judge to sign!” Even though it was a direct hit, it was not very effective. Christie battled on. “Listen Senator, you know, when you’re sitting in a subcommittee just blowing hot air about this, you can say things like that. When you’re responsible for protecting the lives of the American people, then what you need to do is to make sure you use the system the way it’s supposed to work.” Paul reloaded then shot back stating Christie didn’t “fundamentally” understand the Bill of Rights. I disagree, Paul. All politicians have an understanding but tear up the Bill if it doesn’t appeal to them. They understand security yet screw over our liberty. At the end of the squabble, Christie evoked the spirits of 9/11 by recalling an intimate time with the families of the incident. Atta boy, Christie! Nothing like using a national tragedy to make yourself look good.

Another quip came from the voice of Marco Rubio. The hosts asked Rubio whether his experience qualified him to be President. It was a subtle rewording of the true question: “America has dealt with a first-term Senator as President. Are you going to screw up like him?” Rubio locked eyes then responded that he was responsible for a multibillion dollar budget of Florida. Rubio stabbed an unbeknownst Hillary Clinton. “If this election is a resume competition, then Hillary Clinton’s going to be the next president, because she’s been in office and in government longer than anybody else here tonight.” C’mon, Rubio. I think we all knew she pulled the strings behind the puppet named Bill Clinton. Basically, she served her term. She still has that email fiasco on her plate. Maybe she can call it a mistake like Bosnia?

He added: “If I’m our nominee, how is Hillary Clinton going to lecture me about living paycheck to paycheck? I was raised paycheck to paycheck. How is she going to lecture me about student loans? I owed over a hundred thousand dollars just four years ago. If I’m our nominee, we will be the party of the future.” Rubio hits with his “Cuban immigrant” upbringing story, which is an ace in the hole as a testimony of the American Dream. It’s a shame that cynicism killed the American Dream. The dream is actually a nightmare for some Americans.

Mike Huckabee managed to fling out a nice quote: “The purpose of the military is kill people and break things.” Huckabee is right. The military is used to show dominance, power, and force. What happens after their use? Those members are left in the hands of the VA (Veteran’s Affairs) to take care of them. The VA is a hit or miss with a lot vets. If you’re a current veteran or past veteran, you’re getting screwed by the VA like a cheap prostitute.

To sum the other candidates, Ted Cruz preached to be a face of truth (thanks, Captain America), Jeb Bush reminded me of a pleasant suburban neighbor, Ben Carson was too polite, and Walker…Walker…I forgot about him.

On a final note, Kasich showed he had heart. Kasich was asked how he would explain his opposition to gay marriage to a son or daughter who was gay or lesbian. “I just went to a wedding of a friend of mine who happens to be gay. Because somebody doesn’t think the way I do doesn’t mean that I can’t care about them or I can’t love them. So if one of my daughters happened to be that, of course I would love them and I would accept them. Because you know what? That’s what we’re taught when we have strong faith.” Kasich went on to say he would love his daughters “no matter what they do.” “Issues like that are planted to divide us. I think the simple fact of the matter is—and this is where I would agree with Jeb, and I’ve been saying it all along—we need to give everybody a chance, treat everybody with respect, and let them share in this great American dream that we have.” I admit that Kasich pulled the heart strings of the people; he even managed to captivate my attention. Nevertheless, heart can only go so far. The debate wasn’t bad, I guess. I still need to restore my nerve to stomach the Democratic debate. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

The Detrimental Disaster of Others…Hell is Other People

The thing about this world is you can’t choose who lives in it with you. Our concrete jungle is inhabited by demons and monsters under the guise of human flesh; it’s a fact that leads many to believe there’s no God on these streets. Jean-Paul Sartre described it best: “Hell is other people.”

No matter what reason, others seek out to terrorize us or sling shit on our parade; their misery deserves company because no one wants to be lonely. Unlike inanimate objects, which can be moved, people challenge the individual by denying resources, inhibiting activities, or attacking the individual. It’s an abundant amount of suffering deal from the hands of our fellow man. Except the torture doesn’t end there! People possess the deviant skill to objectify us. Every individual is made up of two central elements: mind and body. These two central elements make up any unique being. However, people remind you that you are not unique or special. They inform you that you’re a physical being with grotesque characteristics. From their observations and verbal assessments, people comment on our weight, height, and even clothes.

This love and hate relationship has no set boundaries. If boundaries were established, people wouldn’t respect them. People have their own agendas to follow. The clash between beliefs, world views, and values cause a volcano to erupt. When this happens, a sense of security is violated and vulnerability dominates all thoughts. I don’t want to tear into a fellow human being, I really don’t. But some folks are pushing it. I mean, come on. What’s their purpose besides causing pain? I’m talking about those rotten, foul, repulsive wastes of space. I want to smack them, their parents, and the obstetrician.

Unfortunately, we need other people. As long as we live, we’ll be surrounded by people. Relationships with others shape our personalities and help determine our potential. No matter how excruciating the relationship, we’re reflections of each other even down to our deviant sins. The world is infected with others, yet it’s a necessary disease–an illness that’ll be the death of me.

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