10 years and my blog is still here.
10 years since my heartaches.
10 years passed and I'm still struggling.
10 years wishing, and hoping, and praying.

Emily Keyes, Rest In Peace

Below is a heartfelt rant in which I am totally honest about my feelings. In the process, I am rather graphic in my descriptions of certain things...basically the horror that I see in organized religion. These descriptions might be challenging for some readers

As probably most of us already know, the poor people in Bailey, Colorado are going through living hell right about now. And now we find out that the attacker had sexual issues...and was willing to give his life for the chance to act them out. And in the process of acting on his sick impulses, he has damaged many people's lives...some forever. He killed a 16 year old girl named Emily Keyes.Read more...Collapse )

Codes of Lies

Many people in this world are not motivated to seek Truth. Many are doing just fine living under a Code of Lies. A code of lies that was designed to benefit them. These Codes of Lies are well ingrained into society. We take them for granted. Our fairy tales as children were based upon these codes of lies. Our fondest memories of family and home are built upon these codes of lies. These codes have been etched into our hearts and minds from our first moments on this earth.Read more...Collapse )

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It is only when gazing up upon the night sky littered with fragments of light that I feel so small, so in awe, yet so powerless, all at the same time. I realize how insignificant life is compared to the vastness lying beyond it, stretching into infinity. How humans are but threads in the fabrics of existence, temporary flames with a timer already set until a moment should come to extinguish and erase. This is a dream world we live in, composed of happy illusions and nightmares we cannot escape from. And even when we are finally able to reach one another, reach across the many imaginary boundaries that divide us, divide you and I and I from them, we are no better than the stars studded about the night. Each narrates its own story, and even when they appear so, so close, as if with a little help they might collide with one another, remember that they are light years apart. I look at the sky without really seeing it, but neither do I see past the illusions. They are not lies but far from the truth. Then I think, what does it matter when we are all so insignificant compared to nature, all so powerless to fight fate and our own self-deception. In the end, we are the size of particles and nothing more. With one exception, that because our bodies are fueled with warm blood, with consciousness, with passion, with life, we are able to determine our destinies.


A realization dawns, and darkness falls on me, and I burn....
Burn....burning...every breath, every thought, every burns, it's such a consuming thing. I can't escape my soul's anguish. Control....I'm losing control...I fight.....I struggle....but my heart is drowning in such anguish....weeping, singing sorrowful songs of a lost desire...and so it becomes....I feel a such a mornful of my own creation and design, birthed from the choices I have made. Drowning....I am drowning! I can't escape the reality I have created for myself! My emotions...they drown there no escape!? Heal...when will I heal?! Feel...feeling...lost...all is lost to me but one. This wretched torment, such regret and despair! I am vexed....frustrated....angry...but for a moment...oh my poor soul! If only you could feed off such things...but you drown such emotions as you drown me, my wounds are to deep, the bleeding won't loss is to is such a cruel mistress....
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Night's silence
Music sings from an ancient record full of dust
A wrenching heart drifts
Dances to the rise and fall of the notes' breaths
So fragile, as if with a sudden echo
These unwritten melodies just might become lost forever
Admist the silence

But oh, where is my voice
That once resonating vibration against
The dryness in my throat
Reviving these pent up pieces of dreams
But only for moments
Where is that voice with which I
Scribbled countless words unsaid
Into the cold and empty air
Only to be erased and rewritten again

If songs were memories
I'd write a million of them
Ones of happiness and of tragedy
And bury them for eternity
In the listening silence of the room
But never so close, so threateningly near
That I could reach out and touch them
Inside of me
Then I'd destroy these songs I've written with my own soul
So that I might have my voice back
Not choked in the remnants of remembrances' sorrow

I wept for the lost voice that once composed of me
Sighing, still sighing
As the record repeats itself once more
Yet again my voice lingered in the safety of my larynx
Its stories unsung

Soul Search

Standing beneath a sun glazed sky, I wondered; I dreamt. I thought. I felt.

It looked as if a miracle had just happened, as a thin wisp of cloud lay, tainting the pure blueness of the sky. It was as if a meteor struck during the day and left its footprint upon a sea of blue velvet.

Letting the fresh scent of ocean breeze soak my lungs, and letting the atmosphere wash away my essence, carried unsteadily on the wind. Under and over. Under and over. The waves tucked my mind in and released its thoughts, already overflowing from this stimulation of senses.

There, simply being there, watching life continue its endless cycle of birth and decay, letting the ocean carry my worries far beyond grasp, and that streak across the sky, yes, that luminous streak of pure whiteness admist the deep blue of the ocean and the shallowness of the sky. It was then, during that split instance, I glimpsed a piece of my soul, feeling like a stranger who had guiltily pried into a window and intruded upon something secretive.

Smiling, I thanked this moment for bringing me such a miracle, as I walked wistfully back into the shadows.


Thoughts tumbling over the storms of my mind
Turning and returning
Yet traveling nowhere
Always holding onto some useless memory
Already devoid of meaning

Remembering the sky and the stars and their dreams
Entangled in hidden voices addressed to no one
Yet it's only silence I hear
Figments of imagination can no longer distinguish
The abyss between unbridled reveries and insanity

Hours drain and waste away
Like the illusion that is life
And the too old record called reality
Burning and destroying all in their path
Yet how can chained love always remain

I knew when we said goodbye
That it would die
It would fade and fade until no more color is left in the canvas
Inevitable as a broken winged dove that takes flight
Only my brush never had pigments to begin with

Wondering why it is that this old song should replay itself
Over and over and over again until ears could turn deaf
But they never do, and eyes never sleep
Eternally struggling to breathe these futile verses somewhere I can reach you
Even if just to be forgotten

Not trapped within the prison they can't escape from
As the passion in them dwindles and wanes
Forever locked inside a frame of remembrance
Until they are still and

Life Is Dead

Life is dead
Dead and hollow and empty like the swaying bare branches
Sharp as eyes were deprived of their rose-colored lenses
What it's like to be taunted by an untruthful mirage of peace
Sanctuary never to be found admist tumbling waves within the mind
Always passions resurfacing
In memory does misery live
Voices still recalled
In the deepest heart of sadness lies
Countless words yet unsaid, overwhelming
Boiling over, tingling inside every drop of blood that flowed through veins

Life is dead
Dead like the dull sound of time ticking and ticking away
Wasted, abandoned, used, never to be regained
Yet how can one live inside an image unconveyed
How can one live in a moment's longing
As thoughts continue to trickle away, lost
As the stream of vitality carries yet more drifting leaves
Toward their destination of the blackest ocean, to be buried and forgotten
Still only the loss of time remains when all else had been destroyed
Pyres of emotions aflame
Love and hate burnt to ashes upon shores eroded

Life is dead
Dead like the opaque silence of the night
Dead like remembrances never to be revived
Dead like verses with no meaning
Dead, dead, dead