Sunday, 20 May 2012

Burn Genius

Hmmm.  Bet you're reading the title thinking, after HARDdrive where is this guy going with this.  Well I could drag on through meaningless sentences.  Bore you with some extravagant introduction.  Or take you down the pathways of my mind in such detail i leave you in awe of my brilliance.  But, however, I'm just going to come right out and say where I'm going with this, and do it in the next paragraph.

Today on the bus ride home i had a bit of an epiphany, okay it only came during the five minute walk from bus stop to my house, but it came none the less.  So I'm walking home and it occurs to me I'm totally baked out of my mind, refer to chocolate brownies, and I'm about to enter my christian family home.  But today it feels different.  There's something liberating not only in knowing but doing something that would be considered outside the realm of this whole born again christian platform.  I feel like i faced the beast of conformity, came out unscathed, and have somehow formed a creature of my own creation.  It feels awesome.  It has me thinking though.  Why cant I be a good christian and be high as that high C at the same time.  What is it with rules.

Rules are made to be broken but also made to give the people who don't break them a sense of superiority over those who do.  They need abortion, drugs, drinking, smoking and a whole host of other things to be bad to give them good reasons to hate on others.  To say it's in his name.  I always questioned how Christ had no problem loving everybody but yet i was taught to hate so many things.  Gays, teenage moms, sex before marriage, non Christians, and then taught that if i didn't scream my faith from the mountain tops my heart wasn't in it.  I should wear my Christianity like a badge of honor so to speak and make sure I'm in every ones face with it.  It was so bad i thought drinking and smoking was a sin.  Yup and it doesn't say anything in the bible about no tobacco and alcohol.  But such it is.  I was programmed to think so many things but as I sit here contemplating should I roll up another one I feel liberated.  I feel like by stepping outside the path chosen for me I've become a better me.

This me sees the world through the eyes of nature.  In nature all things peacefully coexists both plant predator and prey and as such I aim to peacefully coexists with all man kind.  I did not get trapped in the one religion is the only religion mindset.  In the mindset of converting all to my belief.  I feel no need to force my belief on others.  I feel good that i don't judge people on what or who they are in life and solely on whether they are good people.  Even being good is relative but I'm confident that my definition of good is solid and will be willing to adjust it should i find out it's a bit faulty.

It feels good to know that somehow, with all the ministers, choir singers, directors, organists, and pastors that i was surrounded by in immediate family and friends of the family, that i managed not to become boxed in.  My mind travels the roads of a poet and is open to all things at least once.  I escaped a life of being forced to abide by laws that do more to exclude outsiders than make them feel at home.  I'm happy to know that i didn't fall in so deep that i could not see the beauty that exists in the world.  And today for the first time I felt that all the things I could be are more than just possible. They are destiny.

Now I may be under the influence, and yes this ramble is more ramble then cohesive genius, but it is true.  In a time when i write poems about suicide, abandonment, and depression, clarity rears its head and says, but you are writing about something.  Hence you are a writer.  Not stuck in the realms that being one of the christian variety might make you but capable and free to swim the seas of your literary hearts desire.  So yeah, it came during the time most things would come.  It flowed in that disjointed and honest way.  And it didn't quite stick on topic, but that's what liberation is.  I feel completely free.  Walking through the door into a world that I manged to escape which sets my wings a flutter and I soar through the clouds on a high, both metaphorically and literally.

So yeah this feeling will pass.  Most good things never last.  But genius is genius, mines just happens to come from a good burn.

Thursday, 17 May 2012

Dana-Preview 2


“You really are special, you know.” It was later on that night, and Rene and Janita were alone in the kitchen.
“Just special?” Janita responded.
“Nah--really special with whipped cream and a cherry on top.”
“On top of where?”
“You pick the spot and I’ll get the cream.”

By the time Rene had the whipped cream in his hand, Janita was sitting on the counter top, legs open and panties off. Rene spread the whipped cream on top of his meal and dove into his desert. Janita leaned back and enjoyed every lick, flick, swivel, and combination that his tongue worked on her sweet spot. The way he teased her clit sent her moaning into ecstasy. She pulled him up and ordered him to suck on her breast, and like an obedient slave he did as commanded. “Harder” and he sucked harder; “nibble” and he nibbled; “play with my nipples.” And it went on: “Harder, harder. Good boy. Now do the other breast.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did I say you could speak?” She slapped him hard. “Now lick my feet.” Rene did as told and paid close attention to each toe, and when she was satisfied Janita pushed him back and ordered him to watch her masturbate. After tasting her own nectar, she proceeded to get herself off then ordered him to lick her fingers, which he did like a hungry pig.
“Now fuck me hard.” Rene climbed up on top of her and pounded her vigorously, and no mater how hard, she kept ordering for more. Soon he was back on the ground, holding her legs at the ankles spread out like a V with her still on the counter, as he pounded her until he came to a screaming orgasm. “Shit, you feel so good I don’t want to stop!”
No need to tell her twice. She pushed him down, got off the counter and slid his still rock-hard man-missile back in her. His dick was so sensitive from all that hardcore anal and pussy fucking that he tried to stop her, but she pinned him down and he lacked the physical strength to stop her. It was intense but he just couldn’t seem to break, and Janita wasn’t getting off till she had like five orgasms including multiples.

Finally, when Rene’s body seemed to be at its last, she had a multiple orgasm that almost made him orgasm a second time, but no such luck. He figured he’d get a break, but she slid off and put her mouth to work, tasting him. Her sucking was an intense turn on, and she loved taking him past the edge. He loved that she could get his body so excited that he lacked the faculties to stop her from having her way with him. When he finally came, it shot over his head, on the counters, everywhere. Janita kissed him looked in his face and smiled.
“So you want to come again?”
“Are you insane? I can’t even get of the floor.”
“Pussy.”
“Whatever.”
“I can’t help it if I got the good shit.” Janita said, then helped him up off the floor. Once cleaned up and dressed, she took him out to the couch and Rene passed out in seconds. She then fully cleaned the kitchen and went back out to watch some TV. That was when Marco came home.
“Someone cleaned up in here?” Marco asked as he exited the kitchen. “Why is the whipped cream so far from the fridge when we are out of dessert?” he asked.
“Are you implying something?”  Janita responded with too much innocence in her voice.

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

Reflection

They say the windows are the eyes to the soul you know
Within them you can see who someone is,
Who they wish to be
What they are, what they aren't
It's where their deepest and darkest secrets can be found
In just one look
One glance
Through them all one is becomes within grasp

But no one ever talks about what they see

Windows aren't one sided after all
And as you can see into me I too can see out
And my refection shows someone I am not

I do not know this man
This cant be who I am
Why do they seem so plain
Unoriginal
Just run of the mill
Average
Lost and alone
Sad and depressed

This is the face of a man who dreams to be more
A man who's heart screams to be someone else
Somebody worthy of humanity
But though this man has big dreams he sees none of them within his reach
This face that I see... depresses me
How could anyone be so hurt
In such pain
Wishing that death would come and take him away...
From it all

This man sees no joy in life

He feels no love, sees no comfort, and is numb to all feeling except for cold for his heart has become like ice
Frosted over by the hate that consumes him
The self doubt that surrounds him
It has been made cold by the many times life has pushed him aside and destroyed all the things that made him smile

All he does now is cry

Cries for the man he can not be
Cries for the man he is but hates
Cries for the love he never receives
Cries for a hope and strength that flees from him with each breath
Yet still he cries, and cries some more,
Until his tears leave drops across my mirror and I can see him no more

But I hear his sobs

They torture me
The depths of the agony within them torment me
Each short breath
Each loud scream, stalled gasps
Each sniffle brings me closer to the brink of insanity
Who is this man and why cant I just walk away
Why cant I stop looking into this mirror even though it's now covered in tears

Tears that leave lines as they slowly fall making paths in the condensation caused from this man's breath

I see a broken image of this man and realize, that he is broken
He has been shattered like a perfect wine glass
Once beautiful and full of purpose now in pieces on the ground
Unable to reach its full potential with no possible way of being mended
This person is now trash
Glass shards swept up and put in a bag waiting for trash day
Soon to be lost forever

As I stare through the paths made by this mans tears
Something compels me
Pulls me, orders me, demands of me that I take one more look
I must see this man one last time

I slowly wipe the mirror clean till it's as flawless as it was when I first looked upon it
I watch as this man dries the last of his tears
Their vacant expression grows the more I try to comprehend what my eyes are trying to say
I search for the answers... but they elude me
I cant seem to figure this out but I'm not surprised
Some things are just beyond the simplicity of my mind

But there is something...  something interesting
Intriguing
Something quite strange
Peculiar

A stranger looks out at me from the mirror, but he has my eyes

Saturday, 12 May 2012

To Be Not Me

Today I decided to pretend to not be me
Today I have a big house a wife and a family
Or a man that loves me....
Who cares this other me lives in a world of peace and love
He has all the things he needs in just the right amounts
No want for anything, loved by all, famous but modest
This new man is steam on two legs and could have anything on two legs but only wants the one that loves him
Treats him like the person he wishes to be but can never quite see when he looks in the mirror
A man who feels whole and is confident in everything
Walks down the street with an air of achievement, self worth and dignity
Nothing can bring him down for he is on top of the world
Sometimes I wish I could bring this world of make believe into the real world
I know I won't suddenly be him but there must be a way
To leave behind the sorrow
Leave behind the burrowed tears because the well of my soul is all dried up and I need the moisture of others to dampen my eyes
Leave behind the broken heart that has gotten smaller by the pieces each person keeps as a trophy of their work
Leave behind the voiceless soul who used to cry so loud till you beat it with your fist of self doubt till it believed it had no voice and ceased to speak
Leave behind the life torn apart by your disapproving eyes, your vicious lies, your dismissive actions and all the tools in your over crowded arsenal that you use oh so well to bring down those you claim to love
Yes that's what this is all about 
I need my pretend world... I need it so much cause this reality is such a catastrophe I can't believe its happening
But like a house burning down I can only scream "fire fire" as I watch it burn to the ground
I wish there were a way my two worlds could join... then one could heal the other and I will be what I was born to be whole and complete
I will finally be, me... Or the me I used to be
Cause after all that's done even if I am rescued I may not like who I've become
Maybe one day I'll figure it out but the closer I get the more I seem to forget
Cause to live in both worlds at the same time
Is the quickest way to loose grasp on what is real and what is not
So separate the two me's must for ever remain but for now
In this other world
Happy I will stay

Sunday, 6 May 2012

Connection to Beauty

Nature
Beauty within itself
It calls to me, sings to me
Beckons me to look upon its face, gaze and be amazed
Be inspired by the plethora of colors it creates
How the waves smoothly crash against the shore taking me to that place
I escape for just a moment as I look out to sea
I feel so small in the vast wonder of things and am comfortable that I'm just a small piece of the giant puzzle of creation
I feel the last of the sun on my face and the sea breeze moves in me
The ocean is powerful
As strong as the wind and destructive as a hurricane yet it invokes a calm over me
I close my eyes and listen to the music it creates
My soul rocks to the beat, the melodies of the splash and the swish
The crash amongst the post of the pier
I get lost in the emotion and realize that I must capture the moment
This space, this frame, this bar in the symphony of my life can not be lost
It must be forever etched in time and its splendor made available to those who come after the end of my life
I take a picture and find solace in knowing that all the feelings I felt are permanently saved
I will always be able to look upon the photo and remember the peace I feel
It's the best time of the day
Just at the end before the beginning of night
When colors start to ink across the sky in preparation of the night
Soon the waves will hold the reflection of the moon that shall replace the sun
Yes I have captured perfection or so it seems
Soon after a storm will come and the beauty of nature will become the power of it's destruction
And that too shall be remembered when in the future upon this picture I glance
My serenity is now a memory coupled with disaster
It came at the wake of a storm.

Finding Me


I used to think nothing much of myself
Well I still do but one thing has changed
As a performer, man I thought I sucked major ass
Got on the stage with no class 
Just a dumb ass who thinks he can rhyme
Thinks he can form lines but they always fall short of the mark

Like a pizza without sauce I believed I was cheesy bread in the guise of pizza
Not completely useless but still not quite what I should be
And no matter how much I was told the contrary it didn't matter cause to me... I was just second-rate
There was no need to debate the way I stutter... It's there on tape
How I fumble through big words and small words of my own choosing 
And can never sing anything quite on key
I was fucking awful and never could never get it write
Talked myself down to the ground
Thought my shit was whack and could only see disaster as I looked back on each performance

Confidence... What is that
Charisma... Um... nope didn't have it
Flow... If u mean waterfall... Yeah I fell quite often
A point, a direction, good intentions and ideas that spoke to the masses... Now that at least was there
But if I didn't believe in it then honestly it wasn't there
Didn't exist 
In this war between me and me I was on the side of defeat

But then I realized Me plus Me equals I, and I was the only one defeating Me, so it was all My fault that I wasn't the Me I wanted to be

So we decided, together, to look inside and try to find the problem
Why couldn't I be confident
Why couldn't I speak with the strength of my words
Why couldn't I be an author of gargantuan proportions
Fuck 
Enough is enough and now is the time to get it right
And as I said that the answer came

I am already all these things I just refuse to see it
But like I said things have changed 
Now I realize I got this shit
So um just gonna spit this shit 
Cause ya'll just hatn' cause you ain't got this shit like I got this shit
But this is my shit so you'll have to go find ur own shit

So today I bitchslapped my inner poet into submission told him get his fucking ass in gear and stop being such an asscunt
And now here I stand before you

Thursday, 3 May 2012

Heart's Symphony

A broken heart,
     sings a song of its sorrow.
Of destroyed love,
     that plays in minor key.
With melodies,
     on broken chords of anguish.
And harmonies,
     in five part shattered dreams.
The violins,
     moan softly of life's heartache.
The heart's percusion,
     drums to the pace of pain.
The harp, piano,
     and flute breathe the soul's crying.

Then join with the orchestra in a full movement of an aura's dying.

A grand opus,
     composed in the voice of tears.
That speaks the words of,
A... hope that has been killed.
A... faith that is now gone.
Heart's dying symphony.

Poetry

She opens the chasms of my mind as she dives into the oceans of my soul -- parting the seas to allow the waves of inspiration to flood back in so she can swim along the linguistic rivers of desire -- reaching exotic memories of poetry that live inside the words that escape her mouth as she wraps it around my phrases, and rolls her tongue around my lines as music is created from the sounds and vibrations of the orgasm that together our speech makes as we hum,

hhhhhmmmmmmmmm

Around the noises of communication she plants the seeds of new creation, on the walls of my mind that sends pulsations burning through me with each letter
Then the next
Forming words that explode into full sentences and brings my lyrical passion to a throbbing rise as her tongue teases the tip of my phrases and then creates her own lines -- circling around my thoughts -- making my mind speak in the sound of her rhymes
The hard O's
The rolling L's
The sudden dips in between the lines as she takes me inside her mind and I see through her eyes how my rhymes inspire the hardcore g's of give -- and the soft enticing g of gentle-flowing-stanzas, of wordgasmic pleasure as she accepts my throbbing insertion of artistic pleasure into her literary womb and turns my art... into a work of art
To go forth and leave its imprints on a world built on inked memories of multi-wordgasmic syncopated rhythms that move with the explosive rhymes that beat together in perfect yet , unpredictable, spontaneous timing as they bring about a spasming climax on smooth, voluptuous worded thighs that wrap around, and hold tight to my literary mind

Information overload
     Together we explode
             yes...Yes... YES

Then art leaves the page as I write and I see the creation that inspires me by being inspired by the words of my own creation
New words must be formed...made...thought of
The type that only exist in dreams but can never be reality
Yet... she is real
Her mind has touched mine
We connect and feel across the boundaries of space and time
No physical action required because our mental stimulation is wordgasmic...wordfantastic... wordamazing, wordanimalistic, wordcore,wordanalytical, wordinspirational, god damn! wordexplosive and she knows it!
So though this person is beyond this word that can only live in my dreams
There is still one thing that I can say about her as I come to the end... and we get ready to do it again
Before we go back down the wordgasmic ride of the chasms of my mind -- there is only one way to explain how wordamazing and mind-fucktastic this woman is

She
Is
Poetry




Samuel Alexander
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Rain- The Sound

Drip drop,drip drop
The rain from my heart is drowning my soul

Usually the sound of water keeps me calm
The flowing sound of a gentle brook
The crashing noise of waves amongst the reefs
The sound of the ocean of in the distance... pulling me in, to sandy beaches
The wispy sound of fast rain on the ground
The soothing patter against my roof
The splatter as I splash in a random puddle
Even the look of raindrops on a leaf fills my head with found memories of...... pain

The sound of this rain isn't the same
It plumets upon the walls of my skin
It pounds against my window leaving me looking out in dispare

Knowing the rain is falling too hard for me to escape
To let myself go, be free from these crashing waves of distress and depressing rivers that flow hurriedly on the sound of dangerously connecting rapids
The canoe of my inner being runs adrift and starts to waver in the random sidewalk puddles and speeding cars make a swooshing sound as they drench my aura in the large puddles they drive in
My pockets of pain fill up with the hail that pounds agains my hopes and dreams with loud pats of stinging noises
The rain howls and cries in harmony with the wind that blows all my faith from within my grasp
Oh how I long for the days, way back when the sound of rain drops falling from heaven did not bring such devastation, depression
When I knew the sound meant the drink of new life but now it only signifies the sound, the music, the symphony of the flooding tsunami of what used to be me
An aura that looks like a land destroyed by an evil menace falling from the sky
My rain has become hail, then ice, a snowstorm of life
The sound of rain used to fill me with delight -- the light -- but now I'm uniluminated and the joy has dissipated and gone away in this rainstorm of pain
I guess I'll have to rely on long lost memories
So long forgotten they're almost a dream
A fantasy
I cant hold on
Try to grasp them
To late
They're gone
But the sound of rain lives on
Drip drop, drip drop
The rain from my heart is drowning my soul

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Un-Me

Sometimes I feel like I hear things through someone else's ears
It's as though I'm not real
Things are happening but nothing I feel
I'm having an out of body experience yet I havent left my skin
All the emotions that rush through me fall down upon my being like a waterfall of destruction than cascades down the rocks of devastation and send of a  mist of uncertainty that creates more of this being that doesn't quite feel like me
I'm moving in slow-mo and have lost the remote and this depression I'm in seems to be on repeat
Will I ever move in time
Will the play button  ever be pushed or will I accidentally hit the pause button, o n the remote I cant find and be forever trapped in this postion
If I were a movie I wouldn't watch myself
I'd hit power, eject, and walk away
But even though I feel this way I know the reality is that I am me
Same as the day before, tomorrow, today and until my dying day
Sometimes I feel like I hear things through someone else's ears
But I know I'm hearing through mine

Sanity Is For Punks

I don't suffer from insanity, I embrace it with open arms
I give it a big squeeze of love and make sure it's all nice and warm

I'm in touch with my inner crazy
I let him run free in the corners of my mind,
Me and him are inseparable
See I could pretend I'm loosing my mind
That the voices are doing me in and I wish I could just curl up in a ball and hide
But why lie
I love me
The me I am is more than just fine
He is awesome in his imperfections and you may say I'm insane but I say you're just plain
I see life through the eyes of an artist
I live life in the head of a visionary and I see more in a grain of grass than you can comprehend in a full museum of paintings
You wish you had voices to guide you like I do
To help you find the answers to things so simple that their complexities baffle you
To hear yourself speak words of wisdom that transcend from one room to the next so that each voice is unified
Yup. That's what it's like up in this brain of mine

Okay... maybe not all the time
We don't always live in harmony, but we agree to disagree and when that doesn't work we try to beat each-other into submission... but that's okay
See sometimes we are suicidal, and sometimes happy
Sometimes confused, depressed, swimming in uncertainty
And sometimes we are full of a joy the radiates within and of itself
But still we survive, get along,
Suffer...  Ha!
You're just jealous of our success

I like my voices and I talk to myself often
I know myself very well so we get along just fine in the conversations in my mind
I may not always agree with me, but together we come together in a way that joins an us uniquely separate and beautiful from this thing you call normal

Normal, we laugh in the face of your conformity
Sane, we scoff at your un-individuality
Call me crazy, well me and my voices don't care
If not-crazy is you, than we would be boring, not fun and lame

Okay I will admit, sometimes I see things that aren't there
My own shadow has looked like a predator
And I hear things my voices can't identify
But together with our laser of ultimate destruction we destroy our enemies cause we are all powerful
By our powers combined we are super, awesome, fun!
And you are just fragrance o'lame with a sprinkle of unimaginative fairy dust that just makes you sneeze instead of fly

So me... suffering... I think not
Me and my voices are doing just fine
No.  Better than fine...
Wait... I'm hearing something
They say we are Batman, and Superman, and Spiderman and Thor, and Ninja Assassin combined
See this is why I love these guys, they always come up with the greatest ideas
So I'm going to hug them all and treat them with love
And while you sit over there in reality I'm going to have some fun
But for now, I Gotta run,
It's time to play grand death auto with the Gnomes.