Poem of the Week #26

Normally, I put a little quirky comment here about something or other, but I can't think of anything, so...here's a poem:

You ever feel like your world is over?
You sit back and see what’s happened,
And you feel like nothing’s left.
You’ve accomplished all you set out for
You review all the things you’ve weathered,
All you await is your last breath.
It’s at that moment you begin to see
It’s not an end to all you know
But a beginning to all you don’t
You achieve some omnipotent clarity
And you realize that you let old feelings go.
Some you want to leave, but won’t.
It’s a shift of emotion, a complete turn-around.
Dependence fades away, only the self is there
Cares flutter away and soar above.
It’s during these times true knowledge I’ve found
Of all I’ve learned to this thought I swear:
The one you hate is the one you love.

Anthony C, "Paradigm Shift"

Have a lovely week.

Poem of the Week #25

What up poets, readers, writers...people who don't enjoy literary works...(which makes me question why you are reading this site, but who knows, maybe you're just another random blogger, attempting to cure yourself of boredom). AnyHOO, let's get to the poem:

I stand upon the threshold
Of two worlds…one of imagination,
One of reality.
I have seen both, I have felt both,
and I have been a part
Of both these worlds.
When submerged fully in one or the other,
I have never felt a greater joy
But knowing the second world
Makes the first bittersweet.
In the imaginary, I am the King
And no man is my equal.
In the real, I stand alongside my brethren
And never feel alone.
But I’m lost betwixt the two,
With no home to call my own.
I stand in a bewildered state,
Unable to live in either world
Wandering the lines between.
What do I have to call mine?
I lost all I had long ago,
What I fought so hard for.
My innocence kept me in the imaginary
And my confidence kept me in reality.
Once innocence is lost it cannot be found
Once confidence is broken, it is hard to rebuild.
I can’t return to either world with my own strength
So I stand, stuck between the two...
Searching for what I lost.
Life tells me innocence is gone forever…
Experience tells me the pieces
Of my confidence are too numerous to find…
I need them all to return to the world I want to be in.
So on this empty void I stand…
Seeing all, watching all, hearing all…
But only feeling one thing…
Alone…on the threshold.

Anthony C, "On the Threshold"

See you guys next week! SPRRRRRRING BREAK!

Spider's Last Moment

Over the past few weeks, I've been playing a lot of spider solitaire. I don't know why, it's just a really captivating fun game. It didn't hit me until just tonight, I realize now that spider solitaire is just a reorganization of self....and the more you move around and organize, the more you unearth and have to deal with...and when it's not in order, you get fucking pissed off. A lot. But when it's all fixed and back in order...there is no greater feeling. Putting lives back into order...it's just a subconscious satisfying feeling of mine...and I don't know why I do it. I try to help out everyone I can but myself...maybe helping others just makes me feel better.

I overload sometimes though...having to move around all those cards, staring at the screen until my eyes burst...but I don't look away, even if I'm about to lose my eyes, I keep on focusing on the game at hand until I succeed or until I fail. If the cards don't work out, I try again, and I keep on trying until I succeed. It's that dedication that I want to apply into life.

But that's not the answer to the question. I want to know WHY I do it. I want to know what part of me is compelled into putting myself through things that don't make me happy. As much as I love to organize other people's lives, it just hurts me. Maybe I'm just a glutton for pain. But I avoid telling people my problems with them. I just let my problems with everyone sit and fester until I go crazy. Sometimes, it's for the best, and sometimes, it's not. But that's just how I am, and it's a piece of me that I have to accept. Some things you just can't change about yourself. Life would be so much easier if it were just a game. If only they made a videogame for solving my problems, like a therapy session, but on my xbox. Like Halo but with sofas instead of SMGs...

And yes, I realize the implications of my statement, and i acknowledge the fact that I am a nerd. If you don't like it, then Fuck Off.

So, in order to solve the world's problems, I have come up with the perfect solution: play some spider solitaire. It'll make you feel in control and organized.

...unless you lose of course.
(one suit doesn't count)

Poem Of The Week #24

This week's poem is a special request from a pal of mine, so I hope you enjoy it all. It's by Pablo Neruda, a Spanish poet (but this is in English). Have fun!

I declare myself guilty of not having made,
with these hands they gave me,
a broom.

Why didn't I make a broom?
Why did they give me hands?

What use have they been
if all I ever did was
watch the stir of the grain,
listen up for the wind
and did not gather straws
still green in the earth
for a broom,
not set the soft stalks to dry
and bind them
in a gold bundle,
and did not lash a wooden stick
to the yellow skirt
till I had a broom for the paths?

So it goes.
How did my life
get by
without seeing, and learning,
and gathering and binding
the basic things?

It's too late to deny
I had the time,
the time,
yet the hands were lacking,
so how could I aim
for greatness
if I was never able
to make
a broom
not one,
not even one?

Pablo Neruda, "Guilty" (translated by John Felstiner)

I must say that I am a fan of this poem! Thanks for the poem Keith.

Poem Of The Week #23

I'm back baby! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Oh yea, poetry's gonna come back really soon, I'm starting to feel it again. So for all you craving literary fiends out there, here's a small sample of what's to come. Ah, poetry.

You plunge the knife into my heart
Every time you cross my path
Every word you say just twists it further in
As much as I want to pull it out
I find that I can’t move my muscles,
Can’t make up my mind,
Can’t get rid of your grip on me.
How could you change so much,
What could have happened to you
To make you feel this way?
Was it something I did?
Was it all my fault?
How would I know if you blamed me,
You’re never around, you just keep hiding,
Buried under your own sorrows
Buried under regrets and pain
Just keep on digging that hole
You’ll only get deeper into depression
As time goes by, you and I fade away
It won’t be long before you can’t reach me.

Anthony C, "Endurance Fades Away"

Note: Since I write my poems at one time in my life, then publish them at another time, my feelings may seem conflicted/waivering as to the fact that you, the reader, are witnessing feelings that I have now or had at other times. So it's sorta hard to guess what I'm thinking, isn't it? MUHUHUHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Sorry for being who I am

I've started to realize a bunch of things about myself that I never knew before...and I think spending the past 19 years of my life in one state of mind really wasn't healthy. I'm going to change the way I look at things, because no one likes a tight ass who always acts serious. To all of those I hurt, I'm sorry. It just might be too late to apologize to some people, and if you let a lack of communication mislead you and ruin something special, then you don't know who I am. If you're reading this, I shouldn't have to tell you who I am, you should be able to figure it out from what you know of me. It's time to just let go and let it all slide (thanks Jen...I know you won't read this, but thanks anyway).