Time

An object so steady, can give such a rush
when I think I’m ready, to give life a hush
by closing my eyes and drifting to find
I am in a dream, where thoughts are so free.

The sound from a toy, that was made for more
will chime to remind, I am meant to find
the want to achieve, the goals I have seen
that keep me investing, until I am resting.

As I will live, this object will age
without ever showing a sign of decay.

Only the change, that comes with a season
will ever give reason, this object exists.

The way life will form, until it’s deceased
is the only way, I think it finds peace.

It’s always so busy, being so steady
we are never ready to say it will stop
from doing it’s norm of flowing unseen
until there’s a day, the normal is dead.

It is never sad, it is never mad
it is never happy, or even too sappy
it is only constant with doing its chore
of passing the time; it is such a trait, I truly admire.

Don’t ignore negative people

If ignorance is what you choose to partake,
how will you know when a person is fake?

They can deceive you when you are in “bliss”
without even knowing you should feel their fists
that have been bombarding a hoard of defeat
on all of the happiness you truly seek.

It could be your friends or your close relatives
that continue putting your brain in a tiff,
see through the make-up that hides their true face
and keep yourself free from becoming their waste.

It may be hard to start looking in them
because what you find may be only so grim.
But keep your focus from looking away
so that you can read if they are meant to stay.

Do not expend more than your heart can spend,
because you may only end at a dead end.

Overcome

A lesson that lessens the joy one can feel
is trouble that bubbles until it is real.

Anger should always be only a stranger,
yet sometimes the mind can be caught in this danger.

Finding a way to stay happy and play
will always remain the one best way to stay.

Not the false smile that tastes like its bile,
only the twinkle that comes the wrinkle
of happiness’ face that will never give waste
is the way to remain if one wants to be sane.

Once the fun gift of controlling the shift
that can happen when piles of steamy brown stuff
have been tamed by the brain that remains in the game,
life is the reason joy’s always in season.

Serena Meets D

Serena’s mind fades from her dreams to see light slightly touching her face from the slightly opened door.  Caution holds her still until her eyes blink twice while her head slowly turns to the right.  The blurred silhouette of a man stands on the other side of the door until her sight focuses to see D.  She sees him without any expressive creases on his face as he turns his head to face every room with busy eyes.  When his mouth wiggles back and forth slightly, she sees him drop his eyes and walk to the right of her vision.  She slides up from her shadowed sheets and looks down at the floor to watch where she places her right foot.  A subtle wooden creak presses into her ears, so her mouth flexes a slight frown until she sees the coast is clear.  She picks up the pajama pants on the ground and puts on a black laced bra from the black dresser to her right.

Her green right eye dashes back and forth in between the slightly opened door.  After her left hand slowly pushes the door to her body’s size, she squeezes out and focuses on the blue light making shadows within itself on the wall.  She focuses on where the light is coming from and sees the back of D’s head.  She glides over to his opened door and rests her left hand on the inside of the door-frame as she looks at the television screen full of happy faces.  After she hears D’s voice say, “Honey, you gotta see this!  Say it again angel” she realizes this is a family video.

The child supporting its chubby body with legs full of rolls smiles its full cheeks as its stubby fingers reach for the lens of the camera.  The camera moves to the side as the sound of multiple short kisses that were finished with a blow on a chubby neck cause giggling to rest in Serena and D’s ears.  The camera goes back to the baby’s face while D says, “Come on Cynthia, say it one more time for daddy.”  Cynthia hops up and down rapidly without leaving the ground as she puts her right pointer finger in her mouth with her left hand cradling her right palm.

Cynthia looks back at the Camera and says, “Da-da” so D holding the camera shouts, “That’s my girl!”

A woman with subtle athletic curves kneels down with wide brown eyes as she turns her head full of black whimsical curls to face D holding the camera.  Laughter comes out of D from behind the camera again before the woman says in a Middle Eastern accent, “Did she just say?!”

D laughs and says, “Yes!  She said Da-da!”

The woman picks up Cynthia and says, “Great job Cynthia!  Great job my little baby!” and smothers her chubby cheeks with kisses after she pulls her curly black hair to the side of her head.  She says, “That’s my girl.” and hugs her tightly as she bounces Cynthia’s body up and down.

D says, “Hey, I was there for the baking process too.  Don’t act like those nine months were only hell for you.”  They chuckle with each other, so he says, “I still feel like we need an exorcist after you blew up on me for eating the chips that one time.”

The woman says, “Don’t listen to daddy” in Cynthia’s ear before she plucks her with kisses again.  She then turns to face D and says, “I love you.”

D replies, “I love you too Nala.”  The camera is put to the side and only sees the white sectional couch with the painting of the Eiffel Tower on the wall.  The sound of D kissing Nala hits D and Serena’s ears again as D’s focus on the television screen zooms out until he sees the reflection of Serena peaking through his doorway.  He slides his left pointer finger under his nose a couple times before he pauses the video.  D asks, “Can I help you Serena?”

Serena replies, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I mean.  Obviously something happened to your family.  It must have been traumatic, so I want to say I’m sorry.”

D presses his lips together with his eyes facing the rug on the wooden floor.  He brings his head back up and says, “Do you really wanna know why I do this?”  He turns his face to her’s resting in the doorway, and then points his open palm at the top of his white sheets with golden accents.

Serena mixes her smile with awkwardness as she says, “Yeah… I’m not wearing a shirt.”

D chuckles and asks, “Are you at least wearing a bra?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you don’t have to worry about me molesting you.  You can take a seat and I will still pay attention to you and be able to speak clearly with you.  Although, I can’t say the same for my men; so in the future, wear clothes if you’re leaving your room.”  She hesitates, so he drops his palm towards the bed again and puts his hand on his white and black chair’s arm.   She walks into the room and sits on the bed with her body facing D.  He turns his head and laughs after he sees her only wearing a bra.

Serena says, “Sorry for spying on you by the way.”

“No worries.  It could have been someone a lot worse than you.”

Serena’s face scrunches as her eyes dart back and forth quickly before saying, “Wait, people have broken in here before?”

D chuckles again as he says, “No… but, you never know if someone will one of these days.”

“Oh.”

“Relax.  But, since you wanted to see my past, that was my family.  Yes, they were murdered.  By who, I don’t really know.  All that I know is that he did it to get to me, so now I want to find him.  It started this whole operation because I used to just live in solitude with my wife and my baby girl as a prominent business man.  But apparently the quiet life wasn’t the life I was meant to live.  Yet now… I don’t even care to kill anyone besides the man that took away my family.  It wouldn’t bring them back, so what’s the point in killing anyone besides this man?  I honestly wouldn’t care if I died one of these days because then I would be free with my family; in a place where I don’t have to worry about the killing that goes on around here.”

“Can I ask how they… you know?”

D’s face loses all emotions as he says, “You don’t want to know that.  I still get nightmares from all of the blood.  It’s what made me so callous to killing someone that killed someone else.  And it reminds me that I want to kill that bastard still, yet, I would want to die shortly after.  I can’t take the memories anymore.”

Serena’s sorrow calms her face as she says, “Wow… I’m so sorry D.”

“It’s okay.  It’s not like you did it.  But I am curious to know why you’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kill because of what happened to the people I love.  My men kill because of what happened to the people they love; even the ones with rough stories in the past.  They were only killers because they needed to vent their frustration of a serious event in their lives.  I showed them how to kill the people that are like the ones that hurt and killed their loved ones.  So… I’ll ask you again.  Why are you really here?”

“Well a killer killed my father.”

“Yes, your mother.  Yet why didn’t you just kill her if killing is how you want to vent your frustration?  She is the cause of your misery, so she will most likely be the closure that you’re looking for.  Why don’t you want closure?”

“That’s my mother!”

“Do you really feel the emotions that a child should feel towards their mother?”

“What?”

“Do you really feel like she is a mother to you?  The loving figure that is supposed to make your life a better place and truly nurture you like you desire?”

Serena pauses with her green eyes locked on D’s golden brown eyes.  After he raises his left eyebrow and tilts his head slightly to the left, she sighs and says, “No.  But I’m conflicted because she’s my mother.”

“I know.  So what are you going to do about it?”

“I figure… if I learn how to kill properly and get it out of my system with all of the people that are here hurting other people, it may go away.”

D nods with his lips pressed together on the right side of his mouth.  He breathes deeply from his nostrils until he says, “Take it from a guy that’s been doing this so long that he can’t even count how many people he’s killed…  I don’t care about killing another person.  All I want to do is find the man that killed my wife and our child and kill him.  Then I hope to only die shortly afterwards.  She was my life, so my life ended when I saw her casket having dirt thrown on it at her funeral.  And when I saw the miniature casket right next to hers’, I lost grip of my life.  I gripped a handful of different types of drugs and started snorting, smoking and drinking myself to the afterlife.  Yet after someone punched me in the bar and I snapped on him by beating him until he had to be resuscitated by medical personnel for two hours, I realized I needed to face my problem head on.  So when I find the true reason for my misery; this man, then I will kill him and hope to die shortly after.”

“How do you know it was a man?”

D stares at her without any motion until he can feel her becoming uncomfortable.  After she slightly sits back for any type of response, he says, “He made me watch what happened to her on a video when he had me imprisoned; and then he insisted that he was going to kill me after he knows I’m good and sad.”

“Why did this man capture you and torture you like this?”

D stands up and says, “I told you, I was a prominent business man.  Unfortunately the eyes that watch you when you’re up there are not always good.  I was working on an idea for self-sustaining energy and he wanted it.  Apparently it was more important than life and love to this man.”  He makes his way over to the bed and sits next to her and says, “So, you need to stop running and face your fears head on.  I do believe everything happens for a reason, but you need to understand that sometimes, bad things don’t have to happen if you listen to what’s happening around you.”  D looks off to the side as he says, “I just wish I wouldn’t have thought his death threats on my family were just a prank.”  He looks back at Serena and says, “But you should get to bed” he chuckles while saying, “and next time, if you decide to play secret spy again, make sure you wear clothes.  Your physique is desired by more than just nice honest men.  Okay?”

She chuckles and says, “Okay.  Goodnight D.”

He smiles and says, “Call me Darren.”

“Darren.  You can call me Abigail.  But in front of everyone else it’s Serena.”

They chuckle as he says, “Same rules apply to when you should call me D or Darren.  Now, off you go.”

She hugs him, so he rests his fingers on her back and grips tightly onto her.  A long pause holds them together until Darren sighs and nods for her to leave.  Serena stands up and walks towards the door.  As she turns to go to her room, she looks back to see D still staring at his rug without any expression on his face.  Her eyes scan for any other emotion on his body, yet they still see the emptiness within his heart weighing down his expressions.  She turns away and makes her way back to her bed and goes back to sleep.

Departing From Writing

The title of this piece may have a lot of eyebrows scrunching together with heads shaking in disbelief, but it’s true that I have to leave what I love for a little bit.  Is it permanent; of course not, but the whole reason that I’m voicing about leaving for a little bit is because it may help an aspiring writer or artist in some way with some insight.  If I can help someone stay away from a lot of pain and suffering that could happen when pursuing a dream, then I happily will.  Dealing with all of the struggles that I’ve dealt with this past year were not pleasant at all and definitely left me lying on my floor with nothing but death within my wishes.  Although, I won’t tell everything that happened because I’m not looking for pity parties or a huge support team whatsoever.  But If I do become some kind of an artist and they ask about my story, then I’ll tell so that others that may be going through a tough time can look at that and say, “Well shit… at least I didn’t have to deal with that guy’s hell.”  So lemme explain why I’m departing from writing for a little bit.

I’m leaving writing because I need to actually put an honest effort into my new profession of becoming a personal trainer.  Why a personal trainer?  It gives me a lot of freedom and income potential that will keep me from being homeless again, yes again, and I’ve already been asked a lot by others if I am a personal trainer; and I’ve been in the fitness world for over ten years now.  It gives an outlet to be able to write and do things that I love without sweating about whether or not I’m going to lose my apartment and have my address as 2001 Chevy Impala.  I keep repeating that because until you’ve been homeless, you really have no idea how much it sucks.  And after being there, I know that I never want to do that again.  That was just one thing that happened to me during one year of hell.  But gladly, I never was a beggar on the streets because that is the equivalent of giving up to me.

Also, the reason that I’m taking a break from writing is because I am obviously not talented or a good enough writer to continue writing like I do.  Now a lot of people may take that as a negative connotation because perceptions are always skewed by the teachings this world loves to give, but I always just say things as they are.  It isn’t a bad thing that I recognize the fact that I’m not talented enough to put all of my energy into writing like I’d love to do.  All it is, is getting real with myself.  If I really was a very talented writer, I would have a literary agent, I would be able to tell people I’m a writer rather than an aspiring writer, and I wouldn’t have to work another job.  So that’s why whenever someone follows or likes or buys one of my books then I’m so much more grateful than you could ever imagine.  It literally is better than seeing Santa Claus on Christmas because it’s actually a real feeling rather than a lie.  But I don’t let it get to my head whatsoever because I hate it when a melon-headed jerk boasts about themselves so much that I contemplate suicide to get away from them.  I firmly believe if someone is good enough at what they do, then everyone else will talk about it enough.

So basically my message is not to go through a type of hell that could be avoided if you’re an aspiring artist.  There’s nothing wrong with working a job and taking care of yourself and possibly your loved ones with a normal job.  If anything, it’s a lot more honorable to be working a job and then be able to walk away from it to do what you love to show everyone else that you work with that you also have dreams.  Especially if everyone thinks that you only eat and breathe that job.  There was only one J.K. Rowling and I’m pretty sure it isn’t me or you, so don’t go through the same struggles thinking that it’ll give you some bestselling book-series about a boy with a scar on his forehead.  Go through your stories, go through your life and deal with the situations that arise when they happen.  I know I didn’t plan on everything that happened to me last year, but they did and I dealt with them.  Was it like I was only writing and not searching for jobs the whole time, not at all.  There wasn’t a week when I didn’t apply for at least ten jobs every single week.  So that’s one reason I’ve decided personal training because I basically hire myself.  Eventually I would like to be able to fire myself, but not until I reach my goals.

My advice is to use writing for what it is; an escape.  Whenever I’m writing, it’s a way for me to escape from my reality and whenever I’m reading, it’s the same thing only I’m seeing the escape from reality that another person has put out for the rest of the world to see.  And when someone is creatively detailed enough to keep my chaotic brain entertained, it really does mean the world to me.  So I’m going to put all of my energy in studying properly for my test and getting a job that will help pay my bills without having to do the odd jobs I do now that make me want to die everyday I walk in.  Some people may be saying, “It can’t be that bad of a job” lets just say that I’ve seen what my job can do to people, and I’ve seen guys that were once very happy individuals commit suicide; it isn’t pleasant.  So don’t be afraid to work a job until you’re discovered as an artist because it’s a lot better to walk out of a job and into a house everyday than to sleep with your eyes looking out of your sunroof with heavy breathing as your company.  Don’t suffer if you don’t have to.  And trust me, I’m looking forward to continuing with the adventures of Serena and writing many poems and other things that spark within this mind to share with whoever gives the time.

Thanks for reading.

Simple

That word is the most complex of them all.
It’s a distant struggle for many people,
that say they have a brilliant mind,
to understand.
When in reality,
and thinking blankly at this concept,
it is the most simple
of all.
Not having confusing words,
or even some type of a phrase
that makes others go ooh and awe,
could be what everyone actually wants.
Creativity will never reach
the level hidden in each thought,
because honestly,
only thoughts can be thoughts,
while writing,
will be writing.
To put this simply,
simple sleeps easy,
simple eats regularly,
simple pays the bills,
simple drives the speed limit,
simple makes it places safely,
simple knows how much money it makes,
simple stays reliable.
Complex can’t sleep regularly,
complex freaks out,
complex pulls hairs,
complex hurts,
complex shocks,
complex gets bored,
complex is crazy.
There are a lot of other examples
that can make simple look worse as well,
but I feel safe in guessing that
I’m not the only one
that focuses mainly
on one side
of an argument.
All I know is
I could really use some simple,
but complex is all I know.
I’ve heard that a tough road always has a great ending,
when honestly,
sometimes the road is the end.
But since I’m complex,
I don’t know what the end is.
All I do know,
is that I appreciate and love simple,
because too much complexity
really gets old.

Dangling

Every time I look forward
I see what I want on a string,
being hoisted by nothing I see,
but it’s everything I greed.

Everything else around is a blur
as my vision is motioned forward
to keep on ogling what’s pure
from the standards set by my eyes.

All the yelling and the screams
that tell me I’m consumed by dreams,
because they never will become real,
is not what my heart feels.

Instead, the flavor of maybe
that’s coated with the seasoning of desire,
heats within my mental oven
until perfection hoards all of my energy.

Just one more day
or maybe a little more action
is all I hear to push me
towards more satisfaction.

Don’t go into the light,
is what many cowards have said,
but I will go into that fright;
it’s better than regretting when I’m dead.

Filler days

These days for me are never kept
in any file meant to set
a memory inside of me
that I will grab when there’s a need.

For days like this are such a miss
or such a hit, I’ve no regret
since I could sit and know relax
without the worry of what’s next.

Feeling not or feeling all
is not a strength that I will call
since all my strength was never used
and I just heard relax’s cues.

Not a smile or a frown
was given sight as I’m in town
to look without a judge’s eye
on every moment passing by.

Not too much had gave the rush
of blissful light or dumb bad luck,
so on this day of filler day
I just relax where I shall stay.

LA Traffic

Multiple bodies are hidden in metal
as journeys continue where I never know,
all that I know are the sounds and the sights
that continue to give me the warmth of disgust.

Horns are the only thing anyone learned
from whatever academy they bought the right
to give out that one bird that will always go fly
and will flap to the anger as they will go by.

A smirk and a shake is the action I give
as my head drops to ground where this life is such bliss,
but there’s such a bike that will fart through the street
in such roaring of beats that you feel you can see.

Sirens are clockwork to part the red sea
and try rushing to others that create a scene
that most likely is nothing but fame for the blip
where someone they don’t know is right there in a jiff.

Annoyance will guide one of my hands to head
as I wait for a blinker that never was red
and they throw up a wave as they drive me insane
by not knowing the lessons that come with license.

Potholes are craters that eat up a car
in the moment you feel that you might be a star
until life let’s you know that you need AAA
or you better have green that can now save the day.

Running a light is so common its sick
that I’m waiting some more for this unthoughtful prick
to quit showing their lack of a care for others
and then freeing their bird when someone’s honk hovers.

Every new day is like such new gift
where the hell for a goal is within every shift
that may end up the last little breath from a car
by the oncoming carnage that total’s in bar.

Bikers on bikes and not motorcycles
feel the need to let free all their petty morals
of that stupid obsession to show their human
as they slow down the road with their pedaling fit.

Excitement continues to warn me of truth
that some day I will not be within this one booth
where no more of this sight will be stinging my eyes
when I live an area with silence as prize.

The Trigger day 9

Dammit, that fucking clicking is at an irregular beat this time and my head is shaking from the images being shown to me.  I watch as I’m pulled out of my body again to see if I live or die.  The troops that are surrounding me are stunned with fright as I begin to growl and charge over to the vehicle we just got out of.  Three troops manage to jump into the vehicle before I speed down the road.  One of them asks, “Where are we going sir?”  Yet he’s answered by my silence as my crazed eyes remain on the road.  He nods and says to the other troops, “Be prepared for anything boys!”

The other two yell “hoorah” without knowing the dangers I’m putting them in.

We continue down the road and make a turn into the desert where no roads lead.  Our vehicle hops and bumps through the patches of sand until we come across a stone building in the distance.  It only looks to be the size of a shack from our angle, as if it’s just a holding quarters.  The distant threats see the dust from our vehicle roaring towards them, so they open fire on us.  One of the troops takes the weapon on top of the vehicle and starts firing wildly at them while yelling, “Get some!”

I watch him pluck off three of the threats in front of the building as we start to see the whites of their eyes.  The other two troops remain hidden until we come to a stop because the bumps on this drive are too ferocious for them to be able to fire anyway.  The gunner plucks off two more threats that ran out of the building before we come to a halt.  The soldier to my right asks me, “What’s the-” but I don’t listen to his request for direction as my possessed body darts into the building to give a light show of gun-fire.  My soul looks to the sky and sees that the sun is almost over-head, so I hope that my possessed body makes it to them in time.

Two of the troops run in blindly after me as one of them stays outside to protect us from any possible threats.  My desires lead us directly to Privates Locke and Tagger on their knees with two masked gunners behind them that are speaking into the live camera.  The executioner raises his hand with his weapon ready to steal their lives and begins to lower it to Tagger’s neck.  Shock forces his head to shoot up when he hears my growl echoing through the hall before a bullet forces his brains to splat on one of the gunners behind him.  The other gunner whips around to take away my life, but he’s bumped by a courageous Locke who jumped up and tackled him to the ground.  My demonic face is revealed to the world as I kick off the head of the person that was tackled while putting a bullet between the eyes of the other gunner.

I cut off the bondage that’s holding Tagger and Locke’s hands behind their backs and then crouch down for any possible threats that might come from the shadowed hallway.  The camera keeps on rolling, so everyone viewing this video is getting a free show of war.  Although, for some reason my possessed body growls out, “I want you men to leave now and tell the camp where I am.  That’s an order.”

They look at me in shock as Private Tagger says, “No can do sir.”

I growl back, “I’m not going to let you end up like Private Smith!  Now move and get more troops!”

Their fighting spirit deflates as they look at each other and then run back out to the vehicle.  My helpless spirit watches as my body prepares for possibly my final battle.  I grab one of the lifeless bodies and hoist it like a shield with one of my pistols in my free right hand.  I wait patiently for more masked murderers to come into my sights.  I think it’s funny they’re man enough to take away someone’s life, but they’re not man enough to show their face while doing it.

Eventually, I see the shadows of bodies approaching me from the grey shadowed hallway.  Gunshots fire into their heads until I have to switch weapons.  The same action is taken without any struggle until I eventually run out of bullets.  I throw the body acting as my shield at the door and then wield my knives in the corner as I wait for more threats to enter.  I patiently allow three of them to enter the room with their bullets firing at nothing until I slice two of them in the back of their necks and stab the remaining threat in his right side.  He tries to fight me, but I point his gun at his neck and cause him to commit suicide.

More bullets fly in from the hallway and manage to take me to the ground.  My body growls as I go down from the wounds in my right leg, but my fight refuses to quit.  They approach me from the hall with caution still firing their weapons, so I grab the weapon to my right and show them I’m more of an accurate shooter.  My body begins to shake from the blood loss, but I still manage to stand up.  Another threat runs in and I fire his weapon from his hand.  He still manages to plow into my weakened body and begins to tussle with me on the ground.  We exchange different punches until I manage to distance myself from him.  He takes out his knife and charges while slicing wildly at me.

I manage to dodge his attacks but another bullet hits me in my left arm from the hallway.  I whip around and pick up another gun and silence him, but the wild person slashing at me manages to hit the back of my head and bring me to my knees.  His arm goes up for a hail Mary, but I quickly fire upward and cause him to fall lifeless.  The clicking stopped completely after he sliced the back of my head, so I stumble to the ground with my consciousness returning to me.  Tears begin to fall from my eyes as I grab my body in pain and start to crawl from the other side of this blankly bloodied room to the hallway. My will to fight continues to bleed from my body as I move any further.  Eventually it becomes too much, so I drop to the ground.

My body turns around so I can face the brightly lit ceiling.  I only think of life back home and how much I wish I could see Sabrina’s face one last time.  My heart begins to slow down as I hear more footsteps approaching me from the hallway.  The sound of gunfire stings my ears and sends a chill of an end down my spine.  I just hope my wife isn’t watching this streaming video.   I hear the same clicking that was once in my head on the ground next to me, so I look and see some bizarre device.  It vibrates on the ground and looks as small as a computer chip with some pointy prick in the center of it.  I want to examine this alien device more, but then, I hear the footsteps next to my head.  So I let out a sigh before I close my eyes and prepare for whatever may come.  Yet my body is so tired, I drift off to sleep.