Apr 2010

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<entry>

<itemid>113595</itemid>

<eventtime>2010-04-09 00:14:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2010-04-09 04:13:58</logtime>

<subject>I make it look easy</subject>

<event>

Words on the sand Are mine alone For propensity's sake. For no matter how I configure them. You will never understand. You probably wouldn't even try. Not in any way that would adequately cover the subject. Silence and wind Are better warriors of my verbiage. The water rises. And the words are gone. As are so many other things in life.

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<entry>

<itemid>113750</itemid>

<eventtime>2010-04-09 09:48:00</eventtime>

<logtime>2010-04-09 13:49:17</logtime>

<subject>No One Asks The Phoenix if It Burns</subject>

<event>

By Redwin Tursor When I was five years old My 'friends' put me in a trashcan And convinced my brother To sit on the lid. I couldn't get out. I swore then I'd never let that happen to me. When they tried to banish me To the lower 'stupid' classes. I learned my damned Multiplication Tables. When they tried to say I was Crazy. I confused the hell out of my so called Doctors The ones who wouldn't tell me what the hell was going on. They accomplished nothing. When I was in the fifth grade I knew that I was different. I had been told I was different Broken Strange Annoying My whole damn life. So I tried to be like the other kids And on my first day of school I played soccer with everyone else. And I scraped my knee. It hurt. A lot. And I cried. And was thus mocked. Children will be children. And children are cruel. Sweet, innocent and wonderful. But astonishingly cruel. The Adjustment to Self that day Was Never to Cry. I did not cry when my parents divorced. I did not cry when I thought I was being shipped back in shame From my Mission for being 'crazy'. I did not cry when I was drummed out of Graduate School. And I have not cried When my true love Told me It Wasn't. Many Adjustments to Self have been made. Survival above all. I decide who I am. I do my best not to harm others In this process. Most of the time I am successful. But the process has become a life Unto itself. A 'peripheral issue' A sideshow in our marriage resolution Was that I was too 'angry.' I was almost never angry at her But angry at the darkness in the world. My problem was Until Scott Brown I cared too damn much. I realize that most people Aren't worth caring about any more. Because most people are fucking stupid. I'll bleed for my friends. But fuck society. They're fucking morons. I'm not going to vote like a ghoul But I'll be damned If I waste one more minute For people who have the attention span Of that Fish on Finding Nemo And can't even remember 5 minutes worth of history. Fuck them. Fuck them. Fuck them. And now the fire burns again. And I have learned to 'control' my anger. But because I trusted the woman I loved I also showed my vulnerability. And the Adjustment has begun. Anger and Doubt are channeled into Confidence. I will be the most fearless and confident person You have ever met. I have little choice in the matter. The process has become a means of survival And much like the cramp I had in my leg When I reached for the raft And was smacked away In the tidal pool I swim. I survive. Or else I drown. But the tears do not go away Simply because we cannot cry them. Instead it becomes fire. And it fuels my flight. But that does not mean That I do not feel the burn.

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