nocturnal man

allergies prevail
shield me from the midday sun
hide me in the dark

just so there is no misunderstanding

Please remember:

expression flows from individuals in different ways

not every dark poem is a red flag

violence portrayed on paper doesn't always translate to real life
the same can also be said for happiness

readers often feel they know a writer based on the writing-
that's not the case

they know the body of work, but not the person

a good writer can make you make you laugh when he is crying
and good writer can inspire when he is at the deepest depths
a good writer can make you feel like you belong when he is a loner
a good writer can be a friend but the friendship is one sided
he doesn't know you

a writer pours his emotions, reflections and feeling into his work
but the work is not him
it's a collection of thoughts and ideas, studies and recollections
fact and fiction, glued together with syntax and prose

writing is an escape for some
and a job for others

writers can release inner demons or tame savage beasts
but the writer is still the same
the works change
the words change
but the writer
remains

twisted ideas and grotesque images
don't always lead to some internal deficiency
sometimes the works
just entertain
(though it's not everyone's cup of tea)

if someone throws up a red flag
for every poem, picture or file they find disturbing
there would be no future
Stephen Kings
Quinton Tarrentinos
Francis Ford Coppolas
Chuck Palahniuks

or Brothers Grimm


Still
there is cause for alarm
there are reasons for a red flag
and they are justified
as current events proclaim

the human mind is such a complex fragile mechanism
that when it's gears are greased with disdain,
hatred, indifference
racism, abuse, ridicule
it warps into a machine of destruction
bent on revenge

and sometimes
the mind is born that way

when tragedy strikes the blame game is played
with fingers pointing in every direction
looking for someone to pin the horror on
for someone to give a reason to, and explantion
the inexplicable truth
of why
this happened

Experts and analysts will crowd the airwaves
neighbors, family and classmates will shed minute details
trivialities that can't explain
the reason why

but we will dig further and further
until we feel we have unconvered the truth
and we will put in place measures to halt
any other incidents like this

but like a virus that grows immune to medication
like a creature adapting to a new surrounding
the unfortunate will happen again
leaving us asking why

and pointing fingers
and looking for red flags

everything is a red flag to someone



I do write dark and sometimes disturbing poetry and prose


I have also been mistreated in my life
many times cast out
occassionally left behind
lied to
cheated on
spurned for reasons I had no control over
like my height, my color, my maleness, my friends

such is life - we have all felt that way, some more than others

I have no manifesto
no arsenal
just a pen
and paper
or keyboard
and weblog

so please
just so there is no misunderstanding
don't label me with a red flag
when the words get depressing
or violent
or macabre

and thank you for your concern if you ever felt a red flag was warranted
that means as a writer
I did my job

vox

cut my veins to let the feelings out
bleeding within without withheld
cut my tongue to let the words out
speaking out within withheld

these emotions drain away
the pain slowly starts to wane
the sins of yesterday
fade like screams of the insane

smashed my head against the floor
ideas splatter here and there
slammed my face into the door
expressions nothing but a smear

pulled myself together, slow
pieces falling to the ground
reassembled from high to low
puzzle rebuilt to withstand the sound

of my own voice

VisualDNA of a Day Dreamer

"dreamer" huh...no kidding

yearn

we live for those moments when the planets are in line
and the heavens smile upon us with pleasing starshine

we shy from those times when the cloudy skies turn dark
and when the attitudes fester and the words grow stark

we hide from the rain and the wind and natures indifference
like we hide from the pain of neglect and lack of interest

we fight against the cold and unending chill
and seek refuge from hate and unbending will

we give in to the pain and give up on the dream
and live out a life of complacency

we spin in a circle of infinite dispair
wondering how we ever got there

we believe in the mighty power of change
yet everything seems to stay the same

our world shrinks - from huge to tiny
our hearts ache, the pain spiny

we live for those moments when the planets are in line
and spend our lives trying to relive that time

the luck ones have no idea
how lucky they are

finite

we live for those moments when the planets are in line
and the heavens smile upon us with pleasing starshine

we yearn for those times when the cloudy skies turn dark
and when the attitudes fester and the words grow stark

we hide from the rain and the wind and natures indifference
like we hide from the pain of neglect and lack of interest

we fight against the cold and chill
and seek refuge from unbending will

we give in to the pain and give up on the dream
and live out a life of complacency

we spin in a circle of infinite dispair
wondering how we ever got there

we believe in the power of change
yet everything stays the same

our world shrinks from huge to tiny
our hearts ache, trapped infinitely

we live for those moments when the planets are in line
and spend our lives trying to relive that time

the luck ones have no idea
how lucky they are