It clicks,
but no life.
They have come with their suggestions
They offer diagnosises
But nothing else
Meanwhile,
My friend sits silently,
And I burn within.
The loss weighing heavily upon my mind,
Squeezing sanity from my veins.
Nothing to drown out the voices.
Nothing to burn the images from my eyes.
It clicks,
But no life
and no hope for tomorrow
or the day after.
If I knew its cause
I would rip the problem from its heart,
Give it a spark...
I would resurrect the dormant giant
That sleeps across from me.
My only friend,
My only sactuary...
It clicks,
But no fire.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"The Storm"
I'm tired,
But I'm so wired that I can't sleep;
I pop pills inspired by just how cheap,
This life has become,
I'm in deep...
And God knows that my flesh is weak,
Lost my paddle somewhere up creek.
Now I've got this sickness;
I'm a freakshow,
A misfit.
My path is bent to the wicked
A little sinister,
Left to the addicted.
No,
I can't shake the twisted;
A state of mind,
That has come to define
The nightmares I've witnessed.
There's a war coming,
And I can't keep running,
But I can't face the demons...
The ones screamin'
Inside my head,
(Such a lack of reason).
Loss of all sense,
Just another mad season.
A legion of damned
Crawling from the pits,
The depths of my soul sees
The destruction of my wits...
There is a storm on the horizon,
A rise in the winds,
Redemption by fire
Payment for all of my sins...
Rain down,
Come on rain down,
on me______
But I'm so wired that I can't sleep;
I pop pills inspired by just how cheap,
This life has become,
I'm in deep...
And God knows that my flesh is weak,
Lost my paddle somewhere up creek.
Now I've got this sickness;
I'm a freakshow,
A misfit.
My path is bent to the wicked
A little sinister,
Left to the addicted.
No,
I can't shake the twisted;
A state of mind,
That has come to define
The nightmares I've witnessed.
There's a war coming,
And I can't keep running,
But I can't face the demons...
The ones screamin'
Inside my head,
(Such a lack of reason).
Loss of all sense,
Just another mad season.
A legion of damned
Crawling from the pits,
The depths of my soul sees
The destruction of my wits...
There is a storm on the horizon,
A rise in the winds,
Redemption by fire
Payment for all of my sins...
Rain down,
Come on rain down,
on me______
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
"The Show of Shows: The Art of Performance"
Int - Psychiatrist's Office. DEADEYE is laying on a couch. A well-dressed, middle-aged man sits in a chair at the clown's head. He is a PSYCHIATRIST.
PSYCHIATRIST (speaking into a handheld recorder): Case number 119-46318. The subject is Edward Michael Casey II, otherwise known by the stage name "Deadeye the Daring". Edward, do you have any objections to the recording of this session?
DEADEYE (shaking his head): None at all.
PSYCHIATRIST: Okay, good. Now would you please state your name for the record?
DEADEYE: Deadeye the...
PSYCHIATRIST: Your legal name please.
DEADEYE: Ahhh...Edward Michael Casey II...E=MC2...But the name is all relative. Heh-heh...
PSYCHIATRIST: Relative to what? (Notices Deadeye's expression) Oh, you're making a joke.
DEADEYE: Am I, Doc? Isn't it true that my name is relatively associated with my location? Here, I am Edward...Under the Big Top, I'm Deadeye (Grins) At your Mother's house I'm "Daddy".
PSYCHIATRIST: (With an annoyed look) You use humor to deflect any insight to you as a person, as opposed to you as a performer. Why do you think that is?
DEADEYE: What makes you think there is a difference between the person and the performer. All the world is a stage. Humor is just a part of the act. At least for me it is.
PSYCHIATRIST: And do you think you have to always be performing?
DEADEYE: Of course!
PSYCHIATRIST: What if there is no audience?
DEADEYE: (Matter of factly) Somebody is always watching...
PSYCHIATRIST: Could you elaborate on that?
DEADEYE: Well, usually we are surrounded by other people. People pay attention. It is not necessarily about being in the spotlight. It's about knowing when to hold their attention, or deliver with perfected timing just the right line. Get what I'm saying? (Shrugs) And if there are no people around, there are animals, or bacteria, or God...
PSYCHIATRIST: So you believe in God?
DEADEYE: Somebody raised the curtain...
PSYCHIATRIST: (jots something down) What did you mean by delivering "with perfected time"?
DEADEYE: How do you know what questions to ask?
PSYCHIATRIST: I listen to your responses or your end of the conversation, then base my questions on what I think will give me further insight.
DEADEYE: Well it is not much different on my end. I listen to the pulse of the audience, my fellow performers, and the direction of the show. When I see the door of opportunity open, I jamb my foot in.
PSYCHIATRIST: And if the door slams shut?
DEADEYE: It's gonna hurt like Hell!
PSYCHIATRIST: I mean if the opportunity passes?
DEADEYE: So do I! It hurts to miss out on that perfect timing. Think about how many times you thought of a great question or a comeback to something someone said earlier. You kick yourself for not coming up with it then, when it would have been so...right. Then you just itch to tell somebody the great thing you just thought of, but it will never be as good as if you delivered it with that perfect timing.
PSYCHIATRIST: You seem to be very passionate about this "art of performing"...What else are you passionate about Edward?
DEADEYE: There is nothing else, Doc. The show is all there is. Without it, I'm just a freak.
PSYCHIATRIST (speaking into a handheld recorder): Case number 119-46318. The subject is Edward Michael Casey II, otherwise known by the stage name "Deadeye the Daring". Edward, do you have any objections to the recording of this session?
DEADEYE (shaking his head): None at all.
PSYCHIATRIST: Okay, good. Now would you please state your name for the record?
DEADEYE: Deadeye the...
PSYCHIATRIST: Your legal name please.
DEADEYE: Ahhh...Edward Michael Casey II...E=MC2...But the name is all relative. Heh-heh...
PSYCHIATRIST: Relative to what? (Notices Deadeye's expression) Oh, you're making a joke.
DEADEYE: Am I, Doc? Isn't it true that my name is relatively associated with my location? Here, I am Edward...Under the Big Top, I'm Deadeye (Grins) At your Mother's house I'm "Daddy".
PSYCHIATRIST: (With an annoyed look) You use humor to deflect any insight to you as a person, as opposed to you as a performer. Why do you think that is?
DEADEYE: What makes you think there is a difference between the person and the performer. All the world is a stage. Humor is just a part of the act. At least for me it is.
PSYCHIATRIST: And do you think you have to always be performing?
DEADEYE: Of course!
PSYCHIATRIST: What if there is no audience?
DEADEYE: (Matter of factly) Somebody is always watching...
PSYCHIATRIST: Could you elaborate on that?
DEADEYE: Well, usually we are surrounded by other people. People pay attention. It is not necessarily about being in the spotlight. It's about knowing when to hold their attention, or deliver with perfected timing just the right line. Get what I'm saying? (Shrugs) And if there are no people around, there are animals, or bacteria, or God...
PSYCHIATRIST: So you believe in God?
DEADEYE: Somebody raised the curtain...
PSYCHIATRIST: (jots something down) What did you mean by delivering "with perfected time"?
DEADEYE: How do you know what questions to ask?
PSYCHIATRIST: I listen to your responses or your end of the conversation, then base my questions on what I think will give me further insight.
DEADEYE: Well it is not much different on my end. I listen to the pulse of the audience, my fellow performers, and the direction of the show. When I see the door of opportunity open, I jamb my foot in.
PSYCHIATRIST: And if the door slams shut?
DEADEYE: It's gonna hurt like Hell!
PSYCHIATRIST: I mean if the opportunity passes?
DEADEYE: So do I! It hurts to miss out on that perfect timing. Think about how many times you thought of a great question or a comeback to something someone said earlier. You kick yourself for not coming up with it then, when it would have been so...right. Then you just itch to tell somebody the great thing you just thought of, but it will never be as good as if you delivered it with that perfect timing.
PSYCHIATRIST: You seem to be very passionate about this "art of performing"...What else are you passionate about Edward?
DEADEYE: There is nothing else, Doc. The show is all there is. Without it, I'm just a freak.
Friday, July 8, 2011
"After The Rain"
Ten years have passed, but we have yet to shake the lingering spectre of that fateful day. The skies are still looked upon with suspicion, our umbrellas kept close at hand. We say it is only as a precaution, yet in our hearts we know not if but when. The sad part is that we will be no more prepared, only slightly less surprised.
Perhaps I fear the inevitibility as much as anyone, yet a part of me yearns for it to come again. This time in a force strong enough to wash our wretched species from the face of the Earth. We would deserve it. After all, we caused the storm.
Of course, the average person will deny it. It is so much easier to blame some other source than to shoulder the responsibility ourselves. That is especially true in times like these. When the buildings came crashing down it is better the human spirit fears the beast in the dark, rather than the man in the mirror. A common enemy creates community. Communities thrive.
For a time, we were a community. After the rain, we had a common fear and a strong sense of survival. We looked to our neighbors, fellow survivors of tragedy, and found comfort. Unity. Passion colored our words as we agreed to change our ways and prevent history from repeating itself. For a time, we move forward.
That time passed, and soon we began to slip back into our former states of ignorance and selfishness. So yes, we will deserve when the eye passes over and the storm descends upon us again.
* Author's note: I wrote this several months ago. With the recent killing of BinLaden, I felt it was a good time to post "After The Rain". While it reflects the tragedy of 9/11, it is not necessarily a commentary on that occurance. It is a fictional excerpt taken from a story I wrote about a deadly storm that wipes out half the world. It is one survivor's perspective.
While fiction, it echoes with truth. When tragedy strikes, we look for the devil. We exhaust every effort to blame, then eradicate the problem. We think this is the solution.
People in your glass houses, put away your stones. Look to your own transgressions, and fix those. If everyone worried about what they needed to improve on a personal level, as well as on a social level, then the world could begin moving toward a brighter future.
Osama bin Laden is dead. Vengeance is ours. Now, is the world really so much better? Did our wars end? How many people out there still feel hate and fear? How many are hungry right now? That's what I though. The real mission hasn't even begun.
Perhaps I fear the inevitibility as much as anyone, yet a part of me yearns for it to come again. This time in a force strong enough to wash our wretched species from the face of the Earth. We would deserve it. After all, we caused the storm.
Of course, the average person will deny it. It is so much easier to blame some other source than to shoulder the responsibility ourselves. That is especially true in times like these. When the buildings came crashing down it is better the human spirit fears the beast in the dark, rather than the man in the mirror. A common enemy creates community. Communities thrive.
For a time, we were a community. After the rain, we had a common fear and a strong sense of survival. We looked to our neighbors, fellow survivors of tragedy, and found comfort. Unity. Passion colored our words as we agreed to change our ways and prevent history from repeating itself. For a time, we move forward.
That time passed, and soon we began to slip back into our former states of ignorance and selfishness. So yes, we will deserve when the eye passes over and the storm descends upon us again.
* Author's note: I wrote this several months ago. With the recent killing of BinLaden, I felt it was a good time to post "After The Rain". While it reflects the tragedy of 9/11, it is not necessarily a commentary on that occurance. It is a fictional excerpt taken from a story I wrote about a deadly storm that wipes out half the world. It is one survivor's perspective.
While fiction, it echoes with truth. When tragedy strikes, we look for the devil. We exhaust every effort to blame, then eradicate the problem. We think this is the solution.
People in your glass houses, put away your stones. Look to your own transgressions, and fix those. If everyone worried about what they needed to improve on a personal level, as well as on a social level, then the world could begin moving toward a brighter future.
Osama bin Laden is dead. Vengeance is ours. Now, is the world really so much better? Did our wars end? How many people out there still feel hate and fear? How many are hungry right now? That's what I though. The real mission hasn't even begun.
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