Tag: musing

No Rest for a Weary World

Yearning for the end result to proverbial questions, we’re constantly stuck at a crossroads. From civil rights activist remembering Selma’s Bloody Sunday to Malaysian Flight 370, it’s a protest to speak out on the world’s injustices. Our debauched generation travels down the highway to hell led by deranged bastards. Some of us realize this, but we remain silent in the background. Majority of these bastards occupy an authority position: a position to promote change to the masses. The other bastards occupy a terrorist position: a position to induce chaos to the masses. A cannibalistic cycle of epic proportions as two entities devour each other. Primal survival of the fittest against those different that ruin our way of live. Sadly, this savagery drives an innate will for destruction of the human race. Hope lies with the next batch of wayward miscreants; we pray these miscreants can change the world. Children are the future, but they’re screwed by their superiors. Check the recent news of an Ohio kindergarten teacher with a disturbing fetish for children’s bathrooms. Character flaws are throughout each country and culture. Muslim crazies continue the usual degenerative massacres, Nigerian women are still missing or oppressed beyond comprehension, Egypt has amateur porn performances near the pyramids and Iran handles discrepancies with a literal eye for an eye. It’s crazy how weirdness ensues in a supposedly advance society. What do you expect? We’re only human, right?    

Let’s not forget the stereotypes we’re pulled by our strings to play. Though our makeup is genetic, ideas and influences are the strings for human puppets. No matter what race, ethnicity, religion, gender or any other social background–you have one to fulfill! We’re born into this then groomed through our development. Doubts arise from this farfetched idea because our egos demand we’re more than another batch of miscreants. Nevertheless, you have to be somebody…being nobody is out of the question! Activities of the daily grind sustain us for an amount of time to verify meaning; we’re searching for value by a dim candle in the darkness. Observations like these actually make you ponder about the world’s damnation. Honestly, too much thought on it could send your mind spiraling down the toilet of insanity; another useless turd flushed into despair. Don’t expect any rest soon—there’s no rest for the weary. Wash, rinse and repeat!

You remember when I said how I was gonna explain about life, buddy? Well the thing about life is, it gets weird. People are always talking ya about truth. Everybody always knows what the truth is, like it was toilet paper or somethin’, and they got a supply in the closet. But what you learn, as you get older, is there ain’t no truth. All there is is bullshit, pardon my vulgarity here. Layers of it. One layer of bullshit on top of another. And what you do in life like when you get older is, you pick the layer of bullshit that you prefer and that’s your bullshit, so to speak.” – Bernie LaPlante


Dog of Infinity

Human beings are a peculiar bunch. We possess a conscious mind that relies on logical understanding and rational decisions. In some instances, we form attachments to lesser creatures. These creatures are called our pets. These furry invaders provide our lives with perspective through their eyes. From their behaviors to their quirky personalities, they creep their way into our hearts becoming a part of us. There’s never a dull moment because of their antics, yet they manage to teach us lessons through their animal wisdom. Death doesn’t care about our feelings for our loved ones. It doesn’t care what species they are. It’s the silent assassin that lurks and strikes when we least expect it. Sassy, my shepherd/husky mix, out witted Death for 15 years. She was more than the family dog– she was family. When I came back home from the military, I was plagued with past mental issues and self loathing. Sassy became my comfort through my personal trials. She was my silent confidante and furry shoulder to lean on.

She didn’t care about the clothes I wore-

She didn’t care about who I knew-

She didn’t care about where I lived-

She didn’t care about my flaws-

She only care about me being there.

Now the backyard seems bigger-

The nights are now silent-

No dog hair through the house-

The leftovers are now garbage-

The garage isn’t a mess.

A piece of me disappeared, but that piece is engraved in eternity.


Glimpse Behind the Curtain

At my age, I believe I live enough.

Except life is what you make it;

a mixture of personal experience.

I indulge in carnal pleasures

to hit a climax of an euphoric ecstasy.

The kiss from whiskey-

It’s rough and harsh while burning my lips,

yet it caresses my throat with a pleasant singe.

Another morning of awkwardness

with a wayward seductress.

She came and went like a thief in the night,

but we were entwined in erotic poetry.

A sultry confidante of my vulnerabilities.

Just another sip of fresh poison,

and I delve into paradise.

However, the intoxication remains the same

as I mesh with other restless strays.

We’re all on cloud nine at this party!

The lights, music and substances are plentiful

for the burdened and heavy-laden.

There’s rest for both wicked and weary here-

Lay your demons down!

Maybe I’m in need of absolution…

or I’ll continue to construct these thoughts as the room is spinning.


Message for Humanity

A Message for Humanity

Masticate this thought for me, reader.

Basic stories of characters with settings and plot,

Occasional works of obscure fiction written in flamboyant diction,

Or television shows or whatever media your mind chose

Why does life and fiction have similarities?

We’ve apparently became parodies:

archetypes, tropes, and plot devices according to our script;

the audience is all applause and standing ovation.

Supposedly, great ratings or bestseller!

You haven’t heard our success? Well, you’re a bottom-dweller.

Oh! You suggest a rewrite? A script change?

You’ll be written out. It can be arranged.

As Jaque said,

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

However, a rewrite can add layers:

Yes, dear reader–

You can be the writer!

Evolve a scene to make it brighter!

Sadly, ideas and influence are the base of your personality.

Unjust is this reality, but it’s the duality.

Determine which truth is yours to follow,

even if it’s slightly hollow.

Plot holes will continue to exist, because we can’t resist the perfect screenplay.

The poet of this musing is in the same boat as you;

he didn’t produce this particular piece.

I know you pondered enough you can cease.

There will be no riddle to guess;

it’ll only become a mess, you’ll be stupefied by stress.

I wrote as him to establish connection–

a ploy of deception call it misdirection.

I am Death.

I’ve been around for centuries,

I’ve guided many souls to the afterlife.

The past is behind…

The present is set…

The future is unclear…

The end is nigh…


Your health will deplete or an event will happen down the line–Never forget that your soul is always mine!