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Saturday, December 31, 2011

If Love is a Gun. V.1

If love is a gun, then I have been shot.
If bullets are hate, then I have a lot.
I fall from these stairs, and look at the sky,
'do you even care, have you even tried?'

So dig out my soul,
carve out my heart.
They don't matter,
they can easily depart.
So take my things,
steal all of my friends.
They have done it before,
they will do it again.

I might have lived through all these tears
my mind has changed, but it still isn't a cheer.
But a chore,
you have to tend to it like a garden.
If you miss one day, then it will be a burden.

So dig out my soul,
carve out my heart.
They dont matter,
its a good start.
I've lost my things,
and killed all of my friends.
They have done it before,
so now their dead.

Now there is a fear in me, it haunts me everyday.
It was first placed by love, but it now wont go away.
It stayed in my mind, planted a seed.
It has grown and my mind is tangled and caught.
The ink is fading more each day. 
but the impressions stay, they never go away.
Ill try my hardest to get it  out of my mind.
just to see it again, the next day I find.

Remember me

Thursday, December 29, 2011

A Sleepless Night But Sun The Sun Still Rises

Tell me you feel better 
and controlling the weather,
because its sunny for a whole day for once.
And that your mood, 
could be no more sunny, 
today you look so lovely, 
and I wish that I could relate.

My days are always getting darker, 
its never been so hotter,
because Im sure I just stepped into hell.
These days are always raining 
and its never easier,
and I doubt that Im going to lie.
But I do feel worse since the start,
I think I forgot I had a heart,
and I can only wish you will be fine.

Someday I will get out, 
Ill find that girl, 
she just seems to be around,
and she could make the world whole.

So tell me you feel better 
and controlling the weather,
because its sunny, 
for a whole day for once.
And that your mood, 
could be no more sunny, 
today you look so lovely, 
and I wish that I could relate.

Remember me

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

A Poets Mind

I really dont know how to speak my mind right now so I guess I'll tell you random facts about myself; 

I have a big sense of paranoia. Just half of the stuff I know aren’t true so I can ignore them easily which makes it appear that I don’t have it. I seriously think im being watched, I think people are out to kill me and someone tries to break in my house every night, these are the easy ones to ignore. A lot of times I think people are against me because of something I did no matter how little it may have been. 

I personally think that people think im a child and they wouldn’t care if I was dead, which I believe in this alot no matter how much evidence proves otherwise. 

If you have ever seen me alone that’s when you would think im this crazy person. Whenever im home alone I always have a sharp object by my side because I think that someone is in the house with me, and is going to get me. Call me crazy but that’s how I feel.

I feel highly threatened when people do things to me or around me, but that is kind of obvious why.

I've done my own laundry and cooked my own food since I was very little, since the beginning I was grown to be independent.

I always imagine a lot of my days just sitting outside on my porch looking down the street looking at the world as it is. When im older I want a roofed porch with a couch on it, and I will spend most of my nights there.

I am my own worse critic and I don’t think anything that I do is good, compliments are nice but im a person that doesn’t even like compliments themselves, but I feel worse off when I don’t get any so please give compliments even though I just normally just brush them off, I really do care.

I like to talk to people when they talk to me not when I talk to them, remember that.

I have a really good gift for understanding and listening and giving good advise, if you don’t take my advise the first time or at least take consideration of, I don’t like to give you advise further on. But I still like to listen to people complain no matter what.

I write a lot, but I hate English….does that make sense?

I have virtually lost interest in almost everything that I once did. If I had the choice I would sit alone in a corner, but people tell me to do otherwise because it isn’t healthy for me to do what I want, because a lot of things that I want are never whats best for me.

I have been given the gift of individuality, said by many people. and I know you can vouch for me, I have it. Everyday I do what I want and I stick out from plenty of things in this world. I hold it close to my heart and its something that everyone needs to get better in this world. Music is in my blood. I dont know I would do without it. I bet I got that habit, of having lots of music of my dad, one of the things that I actually appreciate of him. Raising me under a music filled life he has inspired me.

Every day I am told that I am more and more like my Uncle Sean. My moms brother, I was about one when he died, and he was shot. Im told that I have his poetic talents and had great expression of the arts. I never met him, he died when I was very very young, but I would give so much just to meet him, see if I am as close to Sean as everyone says. My family says I look just like him and act just like him, as if I am him.

I guess I have weird plans for life, I really am now undecided on what I want to be when I choose a profession. But I know I want it to show my individuality, but thats not the point im trying to make. I have plans to be alone for the rest of my life living on the coast, though someone to care for also wouldn't be that bad either.

There is a thing called love out there and might I say that its worth the heart ache for those who have not had it. Though this man is not reading his own words, I believe in it but it doesnt mean I choose to live it. I told myself that Im done looking for it, and I will say again Im not going to look for it. If it is going to be worth it, it will find me, whenever it may be.

I AM NUMB, I will say that as much as I want, I really dont feel big impulses to do anything, I do as I please and the way I want to do it.

I like the hard way, it challenges if I really want to do something or not.

I read transcendentalism alot, and if you dont know that word then look it up. Start on Ralph Waldo Emerson, he is my favorite.

I have been told that I am a visionary in poetry, writing, and everything else in the arts. I know how to get my feelings out and thats what makes it so powerful.

My mind goes several miles a hour, I normally cant think about one lone thing for more than a second, I jump around so fast it almost feels like I am thinking nothing. You can never get my full attention, always remember that.

Call me crazy, please, you dont need to be ignorant, I know what I am.

I dont like superheroes, I like to think life as it is and I dont want to put my self to fake hopes.

I like movies about life, no action or trying to make you laugh but just life.

I need to find out who is important in my life, the voices in my head are telling me everyone is against me.

More and more as the days go by I realize Im highly schizophrenic, I hear voices all the time and I see a lot of weird things. A good portion of the hallucinations I have are put in my stories.

With all that said, Im not going to leave you high and dry. Here is a short poem;

There is a tale that everyone seems to know.
When you live that great day, you never want it to end.
Its when you feel like you have never been so alive,
then it ends.
You wish you could have lived that moment longer,
done so many things differently.
Everyone has lived it.
Everyone has a different tale.
You look around you and you think,
no one know how you feel.
But there is a broken heart in every soul.
A regret that drives every human soul to push forward.
Everyone lives that tale,
if only there was a tune you can sing it to.

Remember me

Monday, December 26, 2011

Black and Grey

Echoing elegance underneath her snake skin.
Slow down, slow down, I feel defeated,
with all I do, so now wave goodbye.
Sitting on that park bench, Im ready to do this.
Its now way past time, will I go home? Oh no.

oh no, oh no, no, no, no.

They all pray to the weak and deceivers.
Don't wait for your friends they will leave us.
Stop and think, I swear I can hear treachery.
When your stabbed in the back you will know its me.
In a river, drowning, with the zombies.
I can hear your yells, its like you stabbed me.
You can have your thoughts but I know what I do
I try to feel your soul, but I fell through you.

Black and grey.
I see you,
and black and grey.
Live with my angels,
of black and grey
tears soften the skin,
I turn black and grey.
Theres melodic harmony,
deep within.
Live with my angels,
of black and grey.
You know you've seen them,
their just black and grey.
Cutting through your skin,
bleeding black and grey.
Emotion is when,
you tear your heart out.

All the problems. 

You, I hate it.
Looking through your, 
heart's synthetic.
Waves crashing down my head, 
I hear it.
I can see my last, 
dying breath.

I can hear it all, 
inside me,
taking all thats left, 
right through me.
Shoving all my words 
right down my,
throat and lungs 
are just collapsing.

Now I see you,
and black and grey.
Live with my angels,
of black and grey
tears soften the skin,
I turn black and grey.
Theres melodic harmony,
deep within.
Live with my angels,
of black and grey.
You know you've seen them,
their just black and grey.
Cutting through your skin,
bleeding black and grey.
Emotion is when,
you tear your heart out.

Remember me

Sunday, December 25, 2011

The Blood Rush During The Storm


Well I see its December, but I dont want it.
storm clouds will raise and make a bitter winter.

Now this petty starlight, is getting ever brighter.
Blood rushes to my heart, even today. Even today.

In a few more minutes, children are happy.
Its their greatest joy, but others fear.

Some left are homeless, other wasted.
Blood rushes to their hearts, even today. Even today.

Now that the storm comes, gives us more nothing.
We shelter in our homes, others lay to waste.

Now that the storm comes, we look for something,
as we weep in our homes, others in the street.

Now that the storm comes, gives us more nothing.
We shelter in our homes, others lay to waste.


Just get used, to the pain, your used to,
because everything else is just foreign.
I creep through shadows, of this, wasteland,
as blood rushes through my palms.

Have you ever wanted something bad happened to you?
Just so you can feel again? Just so you can feel again?
Have you ever just wanted something bad happened to you?
Just so you can feel again? Just so you can feel again?

The storms, have all, now faded.
Its time, to fall and go to sleep.
The winter cold, is harsh, but painless.
All my blood, rushes, to my feet.

Have you ever wanted something bad happened to you?
Just so you can feel again? Just so you can feel again?
Have you ever wanted something bad happened to you?
Just so you can feel again? Just so you can feel again?


Im lonely, but I'm not that lonely now.
I dont know where my life can lead me here.
These walls are closing and Im losing,
my mind is bleeding out.....

I never thought that I could give you enough,
but sometimes the worst can bring out the best of things.
I filled up your heart. This is what we wanted.

The storm was so cold I could see my breath.
for a moment there, I think that I did give up,
but now, blood rushes to my head.

You saved my life, you helped me feel my worth.
It feels right now, that I conquered, every storm,
with love, there would be no war.

I now walk through these streets, blood rushes to my brain.
I help those around who suffer, cry and pain,
as if the storm, is in our view.

Remember me

Saturday, December 24, 2011

The Child: Entry 8

Have you read the preceding chapters?
If not then read it from the beginning
Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:
Previously on The Child:

     After talking a little longer I found that the mans name was Anastasius Vespasiano, I could only ask him why his name was so long and he told me he was Italian, go figure. After a few weeks of living within the 'prison', Anastasius said that he could take me up to the upper floors and that I can now live properly with my new family, they felt that I wasn't a threat anymore—but I never really did know what that meant. As I left my cell I looked around to see everything that was near me but not seen with my eyes. Tables, chairs, candles and several more cells to the left and right of my own home, all of which were closed and appeared locked. I could only wonder what else was here. 


Several nights previous I heard screams of pain and anguish, but they didn't sound human. They sounded as if they were from animals but there were human words also. I could hear in the voices the primal state the screamers were in, as if a baby just born but they knew who they were and what was happening—it was weird.

I only heard the screams. No one tried to shut them up, no one acknowledged them and it was like I was the only person hearing them, as if they were apart of my own imagination but it seemed far from it. As I looked back to those other cell doors I could only what was on the other side, monsters or even some giant. I guess I will either never find out or I will, I could only see and wait. 


I turned back around to follow my first known 'new family member' to pass what looked like a guards quarters. There was a table with playing cards, old mugs and a conveniently placed knife stabbed in the table. Several beds were around the room and a big red wooden door was on the other side of the room in a dark corner. I then noticed my friend was heading up some stairs that were to my left, so I could only help but follow. I continued forward to head up the stairs and Anastasius told me that we were in a old military bunker left back from the war, and that on top of the bunker was an old cottage, in which is where the 'Family' lived.

By the time I reached the top of the stairs I knew I was now in the cottage. I finally got a fresh breath of clean air and the new bright sun shined in my eyes as if it was a new life just for me. Anastasius led me out of the basement and to the upper floor; believe it or not it really was at an old war bunker underneath a little cottage near the oceanside. 


The cottage was old but it was clean. Like an ancient home that your OCD grandparents lived in all their lives until they died. Walls were the cleanest white I have ever seen and windows littered the building. After the stairs I walked up, I was in a family room. Everything looked like it was stopped in motion, a couch with flower patterns, a old varnished wood bookcase filled with bound books. Hard wood floors and an old grandfather clock, just ticking back and forth. Looking at the time it was nine-sixteen. 


I continued to follow my Italian friend and he walked into another family room and I saw several people sitting at a big round table in the middle of the room with plates in food around them. They were all talking and laughing as if they were a civilized family. One person caught a glimpse of me and the rest turned around to see this new individual in their home. Everyone stared at me not as if I was a intruder and they were trying to figure out why the hell I was in their home but a accepting gaze. One person continued to eat and the rest turned around to continue to their business.

I realized that Anastasius was several more feet away from me, passed the hungry family and at a partition separating the two rooms. As I ran towards him I noticed he was in the kitchen, it was cramped and tiny but as I walked into the kitchen it was as if the whole house became a part of me and I felt tranquility pulse through my soul. 


I stood beside the Italian and I looked over at him and he was dishing up a plate of food and slid another in front of me so I could enjoy my meal with everyone else. I looked up as I was dishing my plate and as I glimpsed at everyone’s faces I couldn't but help a sensation of déjà vu and then I realized that the people that sat before me was the same exact people I saw at the diner except that they all now were dressed in casual attire. Soon as my plate was overflowing with my breakfast I walked towards the table where everyone sat and there were two places left.

I sat down and Anastasius followed sitting to my left, to my right was a young man—just about around my age—with dark long hair slicked back, pale and very cleanly shaven. As he took a bite of his bacon he turned and looked at me, I turned my head to look at him and it looked like his pupils were highly enlarged, as if his eyes were totally black. His head jumped up and down like he laughed to him self and looked away I’m sure when he noticed my facial expressions change he knew to look away. He then turned back to look at me again before I had the chance to look away and his eyes were ice blue. Anastasius budded into my little stare down and introduced me to the strange fellow who was caught in my gaze


'Emery, this is Ville Halstein' I nodded to him and he nodded back and Anastasius continued, 'since you had such interest in my name, ill tell you about his. His name is both Finnish and Norwegian, just so you know he is also from that area of the world. I can say all of us are from different places. You see. Names are very important to us. When we are stripped of everything we have, are will, will be broken, our hearts would be torn but we still have our thoughts and our name. Thoughts an ideas are mostly known just to you so when all is said, when you die, all you have is your name.' I thought to myself. I couldn't agree any more, though my mom pounded that into my head when I was at a very young age. 

     We all finished dinner and everyone around the table talked. We talked about jokes and experiences, all seemed so odd in my head, but I guess I never really had a chance to have a family. Anastasius took me to my new room within the cottage; he regretted to inform me that I would not have the chance to have my own room. The room was clattered with bunk beds, bookshelves and our own personal desks at the edges of the bunks. This place was very peculiar but it was the closest thing I had to home.

Next entry in The Child:

Entry 9

Remember me

Friday, December 23, 2011


Here we are, head is in the rain,
here we are, here we are.
You fill your heart,
with words that can fill the ocean,
without a heart, its just emotion.

In the day, you think I learned,
but will I ever learn?
You put it in your pocket
and say its fine.
In the day, do you think I learned?
The end of the day, is getting closer.

As I look around,
the fire begins to surround you,
so look around, disappearing ocean.
Let go of what you want to hear.
Let go, take care of your breathing.

In the day, you think I learned,
but will I ever learn?
You put it in your pocket
and say its fine.
In the day, do you think I learned?
The end of the day, is getting closer.

When it all starts, you cry out,
gasping for words that you last said for breath.
do you know where you want to be,
Heaven or Hell?

In the day, I will never learn.
Everything is getting closer.
And in the day, do you think I learned?
But the end of the day, is getting closer.

Remember me

Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Reflection

Driving away,
im the Casanova,
of letting go.

Driving away,
look in the rearview,
need to get away.

I had to drive away,
please feel free to,
search through,
all my things.

I never used them anyway.

Fly away,
like a little bird,
in the sky.
Just fly away,
feel the wind,
around your wings.

I said fly away,
no need to look back,
they have only forgotten.

I never liked them anyway.

I thought I could make you happy,
when there are only,
cuts and scars left behind.

Seems like peace is something,
not everyone,
can have and hold to heart.

I only ask to leave me behind.

Remember me

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Last Choice

There I lay,
from all the days that passed.
Above a stairwell,
was my last task.
Here I am bleeding,
with my last thought to think,
how will this end,
and should I scream?

I will never forget,
that last choice I made.
But I am here now,
it will always be that last mistake.

This place is worse,
than the previous life I had.
If I could do it here,
I would do it again.
As the doctors mend my spine,
I spoke the words of a man dying.
'Where is the breath that I once had?'
The man said shush,
and sewed my lips.

Reality came to me,
and I knew I was dead.
I will never forget,
that last choice I made.
But now that Im here,
It will only be known as a mistake.
This place is hell,
and there is no turning back,
other than to continue,
with a choice of damnation on my back.

When the people find myself,
they thought I just slipped.
I know what I did,
I did everything but slip.
I let myself die,
it will be looked on as a mistake
But if I could do it here,
I would do it again.

Remember me

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

The Child: Entry 7

Have you read the preceding chapters?
If not then read it from the beginning
Read the preceding chapter...

The Beginning:

Previously on The Child:

     I could only wonder what kind of trouble Suzie got me into. She said it was a favour not some kind of gang pursuit or an activity to some fanatical cult. I wanted answers and not too much longer I was going to be willing to wait for answers. As the doorknob behind me was squeaking I could only wonder who was going to be on the other side, what they wanted with me and what the infernal numbers meant. I could care less on where I was. I could have been on the other side of the world for all I cared; it wasn't like I was trying to get away from home anyway. 

     So here I sat, in the midst of dirt and concrete. Feeling I was a prisoner to my own sanity and when I heard the door open behind me, I was expecting to see a fairy tale creature but of course I was only wishing for the impossible. When I turned around what I saw in front of me was the innkeeper from just—what seemed to me—a moment ago and then he spoke. 


'I’m sorry for all the inconvenience; Suzie is a mutual friend of mine. I guess you can ask a question, I could only think that you have plenty to offer at this moment.' In fact I did but I’m sure that anyone in my situation would also so I thought long and hard on what I could ask. Who knocked me out and why? What did the numbers mean? How did he know that I was going to be here of all places? Where am I now? What were Suzie’s intentions? I had to decide what was going to be my response. I had to ask the most important thing that I needed to know now. If I had the chance to only ask one question I had to make it count. My mind raced back and forth, I had to spit it out and I did. 


'What will happen to me?' He stood there emotionless looking into my eyes and I saw his lip twitch. He reached up to his mouth and stroked his chin and beard. 


'I...I am not sure yet.' He stood there in thought a few minutes as I was still sitting on the ground after a while he continued. 'Though I need you to know that the preceding events that are going to happen are essential for your well being. After I tell you what you need to know, you can continue your life as was before or you can help Suzie and so many more people to solve the biggest mystery in our lives. We need someone who isn't apart of what is happening to us, like a new lamb to the slaughter—in a manner of speaking though. You will be in over your head but you will be with a new family, a family of the corrupted but strong.' I was even more confused at that very moment but one thing I did know is if I preceded my life with these...people, which all my confusion would be cleared up. So like I have before, I acted on impulse and I can tell you now that it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. 


I told him that I will do what Suzie asked me—whatever that was—but I wanted my questions asked first so I asked my first one, 'Where was I?' He responded that I was only a few hours away from where I was last, which I was on the coast now. I was driving towards it originally, I wanted to smell the ocean and he said when I get out of the cell I was in, I can enjoy the ocean as long as I wanted to. So far my new extended family has helped me to get to my planned destination, so they have done something right. 

     I then asked why they knocked me out. He stood there confused and he explained that yes they were going to take me somewhere else and if I put up a fight they would have to do what I was asking about but they never did. He said when he went into my room I was already lying unconscious on the floor and they never gave me any sedatives they were confused themselves. So I wanted to investigate further, I asked why I am in a prison cell and he responded that I was a prisoner for the time being until he and his company figured out what happened to me before I was 'transferred' to where I was now in fact I was out for a few days. 


I could only presume the precautions they had to take and I had so many other questions but I thought I should get to the next subject before I couldn't ask anything else so I did. I asked what this 'family' was, he stood there trying to find a particular word that would explain what it was but as the time passed, I wasn't even sure if he even knew. So he told me they were following something that they didn't know very much about and soon I would know what he is talking about. I said that was ridiculous but he responded saying 'Isn't that what all religion is founded on?'. I could only agree, so I moved on. 

     'What does Suzie want me to do and what does the piece of paper that Suzie gave to me mean?' He responded quickly and he tried to explain to me that Suzie was once a leader but later gave up her position of leadership when the 'family' was reaching upon a breakthrough that would change everything. He said it was as if she got cold feet and turned back when she saw what everything meant and it has been the same ever since. 


So I started to put the pieces together, Suzie started a movement that would change the course of life and what the movement was is unknown to the followers. As she was approaching on the concrete idea she became scared and subsided from the leader of the group. I could only figure that in order for the followers to follow something they would need to know something to lure them in.

The most logical thing was the numbers; 7, 16, 6, 21, 14 being followed by the phrase 'She would be proud'. But in order for someone to follow that they would need to know more so I asked the bearded man how did they stumble across the numbers and he could only tell me that it was in their dreams for as long as they could remember. It continued to play over and over never changing and it is the same for every single person who had the presence of the dream. He said he knows that he sounded crazy but he knew that everything would make sense when one would dream of what he speaks of. I could only agree with one thing that he said, he sure did sound crazy.

Next entry in The Child:

Remember me