Epitaph

Such glorious youth, wasted.
Love poured forth from you,
But did it evade you?
Your passing evokes emotions, visceral, raw.


I dare not do the same, though thoughts arise.
Those close to me, I'm not ready to depart.
Our ships sail rocky seas, as of late.
They're out of sight, from drenching rains.


Alas, I love them so.
My dream is to calm our waters,
To sail together again, as before.
But I am not the one likely to expire.


It's not too late, yet.
Though time passes ever swiftly.
My own youth, I've wasted,
Playing Hide & Seek with Fate.


I must act, repair our leaking hulls.
For one knows not when life will be blown out.
These days are sullen, filled with grief,
But things as these never fail to make one think.


For Joey Braun, whose life brought joy to others.


God rest his soul.

Guilt of the Survivor

I thought of you again.
More frequent, as of late.
I've felt your eyes,
But I don't see you.


I lie down in the rain.
Get soaked by your tears.
Why do you cry?
Now you can fly...


I felt your pain.
I understood.
It hurts to not feel loved.
I've been there.


You could've told me.
Tried to hold me.
I would've listened.
I would've cared.


But, it's done now,
And I miss you.
Remember me.
Please.

If Only

Written for a man to mail his significant other while in jail for St. Valentine's Day:


If only I could stretch my hand through time,
And stop myself from acting so unwise,
I'd never have to say such sad goodbyes,
Or leave your stunning beauty for such grime.
I'd lie with you this Saint's Day, so sublime.
And lose myself within your sweet green eyes.
You're my blond angel who I'll ever prize.
To lose you, dear, would be a mortal crime.


And, so, I vow to be with you next year.
To make you smile, be your teddy bear.
I long for us to be together, free,
To kiss your luscious lips, to have you near.
Such wond'rous times and mem'ries we will share.
If only I have you and you have me.

The Outcast's Out-lash

These feral masochistic trysts I hold,
Are born of pensive loathing and disdain.
For I am always filled with dismal pain,
From living life in discord with The Fold.
I find the hearts of men jejune and cold.
Their folly is the reason for their bane,
They glorify their waste, yet I'm insane?
How dare those fools begin to be so bold!


I'll make them bleed, succumb to languor yet.
They'll cry out while they writhe in agony.
But that won't make their hearts less dim or dull.
Appeasing of my fury only met.
The true solution I have yet to see.
This quandary forever I will mull. 

Reflective Requiem

Two lovers riven swiftly by the times.
Their hearts misunderstood by ethos raw.
A paradigm held fierce, enforced as law,
Destroyed these youths while brightened by their primes.
Their rendezvous', denounced as heinous crimes,
Are why they languished under purist maw.
The killings justified by ardent awe,
Are reason for my angered, mournful rhymes.


Their deaths, of course, do not need be in vain,
For times have changed since days of martyrs' past.
Let's spread our revolution through the earth,
In memory of those unjustly slain.
The splendor of our efforts near at last!
We have good reason to indulge in mirth.

A Cry to Destiny

Oh sweet and sultry reverie of love.
Why are you always fleeting, scarce, and sham?
I seek your virile throes with all I am.
Will you descend with guile from above?
And melt my visc'ral freeze as if a glove?
For as a man, I'm but a meager lamb,
Who does not ask for fortune, wealth, or glam.
Oh Destiny, please give this soul a shove.


It's unadulterated love I seek.
I tend to harbor something quite effete.
This grand abyss is cause for acrid pains,
Which leave a sullen dream-scape, cold and bleak.
Until my one true love I fin'lly meet,
I shall resign to melancholy strains.

Battle Cry of "Deviants" - For Coming Out Day 2010

No longer will we be ignored! Rejoice!
Our angered hearts rebelled with flagrancy!
Their stupor, now revealed, is plain to see,
For we oppressed have finally gained our voice.
They wrote us off and said it was a choice.
With zeal they vilified all those like me.
But, soon the time will come where we'll be free!
No longer will we be ignored! Rejoice!


The crying out of millions live and dead,
Will shatter the foundations of their lies.
We're at the dawn of victory. Hold fast!
Let's leave the ign'rant masses in our stead!
So what if girls like girls and guys like guys?
The end of prejudice is nigh at last!

Liberation

A mesmerizing sight, to say the least,

To see this boy, the archetype of free,

With lissom grace jump from within the tree,

Into the spring with sun hung far from East.

Although his nineteen years give eyes a feast,

His pure abandon is what moves in me.

For years I've been without the youth I see,

And now I think it's time I freed the beast.

I shed my clothes and climb onto the bough.

And left my inhibition on the ground.

He whooped and holler as I took my dive,

And shook my fears, although I don't know how.

Today it's love and freedom that I've found.

My god, it feels so great to be alive.

Mortal Awe

Such splendor o'er my eyes do I now see,
And yet this burning love I've yet to speak.
With each and every pass my legs go weak.
I long to know what lies above the knee.
This secret that I keep longs to be free.
But without courage I am rather meek.
I dream of locking lips, to touch your cheek,
I lose myself within the fantasy.


This flound'ring love will make my heart infarct.
And yet I'll ever guard it, come what may.
You are the spur unto my fleeting breath.
Forever, in your name, my heart is marked.
I can't withstand this fire one more day.
Alas, I take it with me unto death.

Paternal Reverie

Take heed in knowing you are free, my child!
Run fast and far, and see the world!
For, now, we triumph. For, now, we bask in liberty.
Let the wind take you, and spirit yourself home!
Oh, my child, with wings of angels and eyes of fire.
Your passion is lurid and spreading!
Speak love with your eyes and swim through the heavens!
My chains are not yours, oh Sparrow, oh Dove!
And freedom becomes you, sweet son of mine.
Now, go, and live like I never could.
Be a fire in dark places where hope is not known.
Darling, oh darling. My life for yours.

Our Heartbeats & Nature's Melody

Do you remember that day beneath our tree?
Was it just me, or did things go quiet?
Everything kept moving, in a way.
All we could hear was the music of the world.
The wind in the trees and grasses.
Was it just me, or were our hearts playing the loudest?

Tomorrow

Tomorrow
is where
I put things
all too often
when Motivation
escapes me.
I should find it.
I'll do it
tomorrow.

Daydreamer

I long for your embrace
That sends me to faraway lands
Brings me comfort
And dips me into ecstasy.
As I eat my ham & cheese,
As I earn my keep,
As I drive from A to B,
I think of you.
Oh, Bed...

False Expectations

My mind swallows
Your darkness
Like a cookie
Without milk
Left out for days
Visited by flies
And stale
And I bit down
Thinking it'd be fresh.

For Friends

We walked for hours through the night. The back-roads of our hometown, the canvas upon which our relationship was painted. I've never been a good painter, but with you by my side we made art. ~~ For J.P.


Such vivacity! Such luminous colors! Your soul brightens even the darkest of shadows. Your unfailing love carries me when I am weak. Your heart sends celestial rhythms our spirits dance to. God bless this Artist/Angel. ~~ For M.B.


Misunderstood Chameleon, show your true skin. Underneath it all, a paradox, dichotomy. Half love. Half hate. Half selfish. Half selfless. Who are you today? I'll always love you anyway. ~~ For Q.G.


My dear Jonquil, so passionate. You carry quite a spark with your tender heart. Understanding, compassionate. So far away, yet I ever feel your warmth. Lead me to you, beloved Piper. ~~ For L.F.


You aching soul. Must you torment yourself after all that's transpired? Your pain is vivid. You try to gain freedom through sadomasochism. Alas, your chains hold strong. Oh, Misery, you do love company. ~~ For E.L.


Things are strained, I know. It doesn't help that I've left again. I hope he loves you. He better know he doesn't deserve you. I didn't. I still don't. Will I ever stop caring for you? I miss you... ~~ For A.S.


Oh, Pookie, so protective. You guard me from myself, my worst enemy. Devoted. Industrious. A sister and friend. No matter the shock-wave, no matter the drama, you're in my corner. I can't thank you enough. ~~ For S.B.

Ode to Donnie

Take a ride on the somnambulance.
Frank can take you anywhere.
Burn the house down, split the skull.
The engine reaps its fare.

Swimming in the Oblivion of Man

Written during a very dark time in my life:


Find me in the mirror that I've swam in for so long, because I'm drowning in myself; my thoughts, taking me deeper, deeper, deeper; closer to the surface of oblivion that calls my name with every heartbeat, the grave these hands of mine have been digging since my eyes opened to the world and all its virtue, its pain, its wind which freezes the broken hearts of wounded soldiers of our age who fight everyday for a lost cause we call freedom, only to take a bullet from and for a thankless world who love their chains more than anything they can ever dream of, any ideal conjured by so-called "great thinkers" whose only achievement has been showing us what we're missing and how we're failing, faster, faster, faster than before, spinning, twirling, whirling towards our own oblivion, our own hell that we build with our own lonely words, our own lonely thoughts, actions, fantasies which people pay to see everyday, sometimes with their lives, which may be the best thing that ever happens to them because it frees them all, forever, amen.

He Lived

He lived in a world of no.
No feeling.

When a dam breaks, its contents floods.
But when the sun never sets,
The flames never cease.

And when the flames never cease,
The heat is everlasting.

And so, the water is gone.
No water.
No green.
Nothing.

Because after the flood,
There is nothing.

He lived.
And that was all.

The Brunt of My Malice

You have not seen the brunt of my Malice
You have not felt the blunt of my Mace.
Over your ignorant, snickering face.

I am so tired.
So very tired.

And it all goes round and round,
Those damn bus wheels.
Running me over.
And over.
And over.

Wake up sweating from life so vivid.
Wake into a blur.
Impressionistic canvas.
Oil smears for faces.

Watch me melt.
Watch me run down the canvas of your mind.
I'm just riding gravity.
Straight into the ground.
As quickly as it will take me.

Soaking me up.
Up.
Up.
Up.

Down.
Down.
Down.
Into the earth.
Where I belong.

Delusional

        Sharice is a monster. She even looks like one. Pig-nosed, greasy-haired, chap-lipped, big-eared, unibrowed, monster, Sharice. She’s been after my reputation ever since fifth grade when I was voted student council president and she only made secretary. It’s eigth grade now, Sharice. Get a life! I mean, just today that you hit on my boyfriend. This has got to be, like, the fiftieth time now, and I swear I almost rearranged that girl’s monster face.

        See, Tara, Sam and I were walking from social studies to math and we were laughing about how tacky Mrs. Robinson’s outfit was. Plaid….everywhere! On top of that, she had a massive wedgie. She’s droning on about Angina, or whatever that country in Africa is, and we’re just cracking up with laughter. She’d turn around and we’d just look at our notebooks or those “People of the World” posters that show those cartoon people in their costume thingies in Russia or Spain. They’re kind of creepy, actually.

        So, while we’re walking down the hallway we pass a blob of dweebs and guess who’s laughing like a hyena at my boyfriend, Brad’s, jokes? The crazy fake, obnoxious laugh was spewing out of Sharice who was obviously trying too hard to appreciate his humor. He’s not that funny in the first place, trust me. To him, funny is milk shooting out of Otto’s nose. Gross. I go up to Sharice and say, “Uh, what do you think you’re doing with Brad?” “What’s it to you?” she said.

        “A big deal, that’s what. You’re always trying to steal my boyfriend. Can’t you tell he’s not even into you?”

        “What’re you talking about? Brad and I have been going out for almost four months now. Get lost loser!”

        “Loser?!?” I raised my hand to slap her, but the bell rang and they rushed off to their classes. By the time I got to the end of the hallway to Mr. Willow’s class I could only hear my heels echoing off the metal lockers. I had to use the excuse “woman’s issues” sot that I didn’t get another tardy and he barely bought it. The only desk left was next to some smelly kid whose name I still don’t know. You see what she gets me into? Ugh!

        I might have slapped her after school if I didn’t have to go have another session with Dr. Wilson. She’s the best therapist I’ve had. She actually listens, you know? The only problem is that today she got all weird and flaky, talking about ‘image’.

        “Do you know what ‘image’ is?” she asks.

        “Of course! My clothes, my popularity, my friends, being head cheerleader; it all contributes to my reputation, which is ‘image’ right?”

        “I suppose. What about ‘self-image’?”

        “You mean like a mirror?”

        “Sort of, but it also goes deeper, through the skin. It shows you who you are inside. The problem is that a lot of teens have warped or broken mirrors.”

        I was getting pretty bored and started looking around her office at her pictures and stuff. Her family wears the Walmart collection, but they seem nice. I guess. She has all of those cheesy inspirational pictures on the walls with words like ‘perseverance’ and ‘integrity’ on them.

        “What do you think of yourself?” she asked. I totally spaced out up until that point.

        “Uh, popular, pretty, intelligent, stuff like that” I shifted in my chair so I wouldn’t fall asleep.

        “Okay, but go deeper. Ask yourself ‘Who am I?’”

        “I don’t know what you mean?”

        She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and rubbed some lotion on her hands, lavender and orange. “Well, think about it and ask your mom for help. Then try to look from Sharice’s point of view. Who are you to her? How does she view herself?”

        Now I was just annoyed. “Why should I care what that skank thinks?”

        “Just try it, okay? Let’s meet again next week.”

        “Whatever….”

        I thought it was pretty stupid, but I didn’t want to let Dr. Wilson down. My mom picked me up from therapy and was on the phone the whole time, so I listened to my ipod touch and looked out the window. She’s always been busy ever since dad left; working long shifts or going out with her friends. Dad tried to get joint custody, but she had a better lawyer and got full custody. She said he was a horrible, irresponsible man who cheated on her and drank too much. Honestly, I don’t know anything about that other than the drinking. He did drink a lot, but most of the time he was working or at least said he was working.

       When we pulled in the garage she waved her hand meaning I should just go inside and not wait for her. I went up the stairs, into the house, and grabbed a snack. There wasn’t much in the pantry, but the fridge had some grapes. I had some of those until Mom cam in. I asked her about ‘self-image’ and what she had to say was a lot better than what Dr. Wilson was saying.

        “Oh, honey, you’re a gorgeous, smart girl who has a lot of friends who adore you and a family who loves you. Your friends look up to you. That’s got to be a lot of pressure and responsibility. I’ve told you how much you remind me of myself at your age. I was popular too. The eyes were always on me, and I had to live up to a lot of standards. If I didn’t, I’d let down a lot of people. I had a Sharice too, you know. Her name was Sandy Atkins and she would follow me around, copy me, try to make me look bad, and even try to steal my boyfriends.”

        “Sharice just tried that today, Mom!” I told her.

        “But, you know what? As annoyed as I was with Sandy, and girl did I loathe her, I eventually realized how pathetic she was. She desperately wanted to be as cool and as popular as me, and it showed. She envied me so I just learned to pity her, and I would tell her I did too. That way, she didn’t succeed in bringing me down to her level, and I wasn’t as annoyed. It made life a lot easier.”

        “So when you look in the mirror, think about how great you are. Think about how well you can succeed; how smart you are. Remember to tell yourself all the things that make you who you are. Tell yourself that you’re so great that people wish they were you. Think of Sharice. To her, you’re her idol and when she looks into the mirror, she’s only reminded of how much she fails to be nearly as popular or as amazing as you are. She probably hates herself.”

       That made a lot of sense to me and my mom knows about these things. It made me think of a couple weeks ago when I made head cheerleader. When Sharice was trying out, she practically fell on her butt. She barely made the squad. I had to be her partner for one of the routines, and, you know what, I bet that’s how she made it. She’s lucky I didn’t let her fall on her back. I though about doing just that the whole time.

       Hey! That’s probably why she’s been after my boyfriend more than normal lately. She’s jealous of me because I made head cheerleader, and me having a guy as great as Brad must make it even worse. The poor girl’s delusional. So sad. I don’t blame her, really. In fact, if I was in her shoes, I’d probably be delusional too.

Taking Root

          Brother Philip sat in the refectory with his head bowed, eyes closed, and hands clasped. Giving thanks for his meal, he signed the cross while a silent “amen” echoed through his mind.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the sun hung heavily over the monastery. Summer’s humidity permeated the air, causing Phillip to perspire under his robes. But, it was not the humidity that was on his mind; it was the words that Prior Jacob had spoken to the villagers during this morning’s matins. With zeal, he advised them of the eternal punishment that awaited those who are greedy, or lustful, or prideful. Not once did he say “we” in reference to those whose fate stood on the tip of a dagger, yet Phillip knew all too well of the imperfections and sins of the prior, as well as his own.

Really, he would’ve thought little of it under different circumstances, but the behavior of his fellow monks had increasingly been in contrast to the ideals they professed. He began to feel like an apostle among Pharisees, before swiftly checking his pride and asking the Lord for humility. All the while, however, he felt a growing need to voice his concerns to those at the priory, though he feared how his words would be received. Yet, his conviction grew stronger with each passing moment. So he decided to speak up that evening during supper, but not before speaking with Brother Adam, whom he suspected of sharing his views.

As he opened the creaking, reinforced wooden doors that led outside, he felt a rush of fresh air, and stepping beyond the doorway he felt a slight cool breeze, both of which were highly welcomed by Phillip. He was making his way to the gardens where Brother Adam tended to the fields – which was not only his wont and duty but also in his nature to do, being the kind, gentle-hearted nurturer he was. And though Phillip loved such work, he was perfectly content educating the local boys in the ways of the world and, more so, in the Word and the Lord.

Adam was tilling the soil when Phillip opened the gate into the garden, and as Phillip approached him he appeared to be glad to have a reason to gain repose.

“Hail, Phillip!” Adam heartily exclaimed as he stood his hoe upright and wiped his brow. “Quite the day!”

“Yes. Beautiful but almost oppressive,” Phillip reflected pensively. “What did you think of this morning's Matins?”

Adam knew that Phillip was not a man of circumlocution. However, his current level of curtness was uncommon, and it spoke Phillip's state of mind to Adam.

“To be honest, Phillip, they left me with confliction.”

“Ah, so I thought,” Phillip replied. “Adam, I trust you. My heart tells me that what I'm about to say can be safely entrusted to you.”

“It has been coming to my attention,” Phillip continued, “that many in our priory are becoming increasingly hypocritical. We preach morality, but our actions are not in line with our message. For instance, out brother, Paul, who Prior Jacob openly expresses dislike for, has been receiving heightened criticism from Prior Jacob – unnecessary, cruel criticism – and his punishing of Paul has become abusive. Have you seen Paul's scars?”

Adam nodded solemnly before Phillip continued.

“When a peasant confessed to stealing a tomato from the market, Brother John severely reprimanded him, rather than showing the love and forgiveness that our Lord Jesus Christ commands us to live by. As men of God, it is our duty to be merciful, and instead I see Brother John committing the same offense the peasant was guilty of. He has repeatedly been stealing from our food stores. Haven't you noticed?”

Again, Adam showed assent.

Phillip pressed onward. “However, it is not just them who are guilty. I certainly have my own sins. The pride I have for my students, as an example, eats away at me. I should be giving the glory to God, who rightfully deserves all of the praise. Besides, they're such brilliant children, truly gifts from above.”

“The fact remains that the seed of corruption has taken root throughout our monastery, growing like a weed amongst now dying flowers. I feel it is time to speak up. Our integrity depends on it. Does not Saint Paul command us to intervene? It is not just for our priory, Adam. I care for our fellow brothers and their souls, and I fear for them.”

Adam stood quietly looking into Phillip's eyes as he reflected upon his words. He took a moment at this, occasionally looking to the horizon. Then, after his thoughts were gathered, he spoke to Phillip.

“I see what you mean, Phillip. It is difficult to reproach your fellow man, but I agree that it must be done. When do you plan on doing this?”

“This evening at dinner.”

“Alright. I'll see you then.”

Phillip smiled subtly, though inside he was filled with joy. His hunch was right in Adam's convictions. He knew that having another man at his side would increase the effect of his message and give him further courage.

“Thank you, Adam,” Phillip bowed and said, “I'll leave you to your work.”

“You're welcome, Phillip. God be with you.”

“And also with you.”

Phillip went to his schoolroom to prepare for the following day's lesson, but he could not focus with the impending task at hand. Instead, he poured over the Bible, taking in the words of Jesus, the teachings of Saint Paul, along with other various scriptures.

The sun was beginning to set, and the light that shone through the windows was beginning to gild. The humidity had lessened – as did the heat – and Phillip got up from his desk and stood at his lectern. The rays of light illuminated the suspended dust, causing there to be visible beams of light in the otherwise dark, stone room. He could see the faces of his students as they listened attentively to his lecture or as they worked over their wooden desks on their assignments. One student, a particular favorite of Phillip's, would often illuminate in expression as his mind would grasp the concept at hand, and as Phillip surveyed his empty classroom this image surfaced to his mind, bringing joy and contentment to his heart.

He heard the wind pick up as it combed its way through the arms and fingers of the trees that nearly encompassed the priory, and this triggered a desire with him to cross the room to the nearest window. From there, he could peer through a gap in the trees towards the village. The sky had begun to redden, and the sun crept faster and faster toward the horizon. He wondered how the weather would be the next day for school. “Maybe we'll take a walk through the woods tomorrow and discuss the beauty of God's creation,” he thought to himself. He could picture the students walking up the hill towards the priory, the luminescent boy slowly and thoughtfully sauntering up the path.

Then, the thoughtful boy and his companions disappeared at the chimes of the seven o'clock bells that signified the call to dinner. But, before leaving his classroom, he took a moment to pray.

“God, grant me the courage to follow your leading and give me the right words to convey my message. Though convicted I should do this, I feel fear, Lord, for I know not what the earthly consequence may be. However, I am confident You are with me, and I know that whatever happens You will stay with me. For Your glory, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit that has descended upon me by Your mercy and grace. Amen.”

The monks were nearly all there when Phillip entered the refectory, and he took his seat across from Adam. Phillip gave a subtle nod to Adam who returned the gesture, but with fearful hesitation. Once all of the monks were present, Phillip stood to address his fellow brothers.

“Brothers! Brothers! May I have your undivided attention please?”

The room grew silent, save a few creaking benches as the men shifted in their seats.

“After hearing Prior Jacob's words this morning, I felt convicted in my spirit to address you about a certain issue. It has been increasingly upon my heart that our words are not matching our behavior, and for the Lord's name, the sake of our monastery, and the sake of our souls, I beg you to take heed.”

“I fear we are, as a whole, guilty of hypocrisy. We musn't be Pharisees when our Lord calls us to higher standards. I, too, am certainly guilty. My pitfall is pride, especially when it comes to my wonderful pupils. As I preach to give God all of the glory for their fortune and deeds, I constantly find myself taking credit for the Lord's work in their hearts and minds.”

“I shan't say names, but others among us have their own vices. One of us is constantly taking from our food stores, when our portions are to be equal and humble in accordance to our ascetic vows. At the same time, another of us is constantly berating our brothers, and what they consider to be discipline is truly wrathful.”

“I say this not to insult you but to convict you of your sin so that our monastery and the name of the Lord may benefit. I, too, am guilty and in no way wish to make any of you believe that I feel I am morally superior. Of all offenders, I know I am the worst...”

Adam shifted in his seat and looked to his lap, while other monks exchanged glances with one another.

“So please, my brothers, heed my words. As brothers in Christ, I love you all too much to remain silent.”

They sat stewing over his words for a while before Prior Jacob stood at the head of the table to speak.

“Brother Phillip is right,” he said with a slight edge to his voice, “and I hope you all take his warning to heart.”

Phillip butted in.

“That is another issue, Prior. Your preaching this morning failed to include your own sins when referring to the pitfalls of sin, and again now you fail to recognize your own misdeeds. As prior, I feel it is you, most of all, who should be setting the standard.”

“Phillip! Quite the audacity you have, speaking to your superior in such a voice. Since you are being so direct, I might as well do the same.”

“Phillip, your behavior has been becoming increasingly suspicious when you are tending to your duties as schoolmaster.”

“Oh,” Phillip responded, “is my teaching not to proper standard?”

Prior Jacob shook his head solemnly.

“Your teaching is excellent, Phillip. God has truly given you gifts in education. This issue is your behavior. It seems that you have taken a particular interest in one of your students. One of our brothers has brought it to my attention that you will spend numerous hours on him while neglecting other students. You have him come to the schoolroom for additional work.”

“Other students have taken notice as well, but more superficially. They feel left out. They wonder why you don't spend so much alone time with them. Phillip, what exactly are you doing with this student? Why are you giving him such special attention?”

Phillip responded defensively.

“This student of mine has such a passion for learning! My intent is to fuel that passion! He could do such great things! For the Lord! If you could see his face when the concepts grab him!” He took a pause. “It's beautiful...”

Prior Jacob looked hard at Phillip, scrutinizing him.

“Is that really all there is to this, Phillip? Based on what I heard, it would appear that there is... an ulterior interest.”

Phillip's eyes widened towards Prior Jacob as Adam's posture slackened. He was shaken to the core by this accusation.

“Prior. I resent your implication. My heart for my students is pure.”

Prior Jacob responded resolutely.

“Be that as it may, I would be pleased if you took two weeks off from your teaching position. You've shown interest in gardening. Why don't you take Adam's work for that time? I think it would be best.”

Adam looked at Phillip with eyes that contained a slew of potential emotions. Phillip was conflicted and crushed.

“Is my heart pure? Surely there is no... no such lust within me. I simply wish to spend more time with my students than I am given. Why is Adam looking at me so?”

“Yes, Prior,” he said submissively.

The following day Phillip was stricken with a headache, for he had taken a larger portion of wine than he was accustomed to. As Phillip slothfully tended to the fields, he looked towards the schoolroom. He could see brother Adam holding the Bible, reading from it's pages. The pride he had for his students crumbled before him. Somewhere, creeping underneath his skin, he felt a twinge of envy for Adam. And from the envy, creepily, came the seeds of wrath, taking root in his heart.

Beneath the Surface

Tag. Mein Herr! Serene, isn’t it? The clouds casting the wet stone and moist earth in a whole new palette of livid, pensive beauty? On days like this, my windows are always open, the damp, heavy air filling the lungs of my flat. There’s no better way to wake on a day of rest… oh? I’m not surprised. I’ve found that most people prefer the vivacity of sunlight’s ardor, and you give additional weight to my theory. I, however, enjoy night more than day. The air is electric, filled with sensuality, intrigue, possibility. Why, if you ask me, the art of human existence is born in the mysterious throes of the night.

I get carried away…Anyway, I had thought we could take a bike ride to the lake outside of town…The one with the benches that overlook the western horizon. It’s so beautiful on days like today. The lake becomes a mirror, especially when there is no wind. The trees that are over the shoreline become reflected perfectly in the looking glass of the lake. Would you mind riding there with me? Oh, good. I figured you wouldn’t mind. Come on up to my flat; we’ll figure out our dinner.

Have a seat; I’ll just be a moment. You see what I mean about the light? Along with the languid air, it almost makes the place feel mystical. The wood of the table you’re sitting at is richer and deeper in color, and the red of my kitchen is more calming than on other days you’ve been here, isn’t it? It’s all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.
Ham and turkey on wheat sound alright to you? Uhh, cheddar, Swiss, and Monterey jack…all of them? Fine by me. You Wisconsinites and your cheese…ha, ha. I just so happen to be out of muenster, actually…You don’t think I deserve to be called a German? Well, my sauerkraut, wurst, and lager beg to differ…we’ll bring some wurst along, then…don’t make me get my lederhosen…ha, ha, ha! Ok, I’ll spare you the horror. I knew about you Wisconsinites and your cheese for one reason; your famous co-eds sparked my interest. What do you call it: “U-Dub”? You went there! I hear that’s quite a school. Is it like they say? Are we like they say? Ha-ha-ha! Stereotypes are garbage, anyway…Oh, how does wine sound? Alright, let’s go.

          We can chain our bikes here. Ah, the sun is peeking out. I suppose you’re right. The sun can be beautiful. Look at the man and boy fishing. It’s so quiet you can hear their voices. I love the water.

Have you ever been fishing? Good. No man should die without going fishing. Oh, look, the boy’s got a bite. I’m reminded of when my father first took me fishing. He set me up with a bobber, but nothing caught. I was bored – very bored. So, I asked him to cast my line somewhere else. He handed me his rod, took mine, and was just about to cast when I felt a sharp tug. I was so startled that I almost dropped the fishing pole into the water! But, I caught it just in time and gripped it as if my life depended on it. “Reel’er in!” he shouted at me, and I ended up catching my first fish that day. I never let him hook me up with a bobber again. I fell in love with it; the luring of my prey into my trap. I remember feeling so powerful.

Later on I took up boating. It was my escape from the world. Oh, forgive me! I’ll pour you a glass. Here you are. Anyway, I’d take people out on the boat occasionally but the best times were when I was by myself. I’d see marine life, and when I’d be on the ocean I’d sometimes see foreign trade ships with their freight. I’d have dreams of stowing away to their unknown exotic port and starting life over again. That dream has lost its luster, though.

All of this talk makes me think of my father. I haven’t spoken to him or my other family in years….Well, I’d say a falling out. Both he and my mother didn’t like the direction of my life. They didn’t like my career, my girlfriends…my entire lifestyle really. I grew up in a strict Baptist home and it was too stifling. I had to hide my music, my friends, most of my life from them. It was torture pretending to be someone I wasn’t, lie after lie after lie. As soon as I could, I left home. I was 18, fresh out of school, and saw the world. I met the most interesting people, tried drugs, lived in the wild for a month, went to Canada…such a little rebel, a beatnik. They were some of the best years of my life.

Eventually I settled down a bit, went to college, met some women, and after sometime had passed, I approached my family again. They were less than thrilled by my re-emergence. Surprised; yes. Pleasantly surprised; far from it. I was rebuked for hours. They disapproved of my girlfriend and found our living together utterly deplorable. It felt as if they only had become more bitter. I attribute it to a form of jealousy up against blind faith and ignorance.

I left very despondent in spirit. I tried contacting them, sending them cards for their birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day, but I never heard a thing. I suppose it might have been my flagrancy. Maybe I was too forthright about my disagreements. My siblings eventually drifted away, as well. I don’t know. They still loved me, but they didn’t show it. I learned that sometime later.

Oh! Look at the sunset! The fishers have gone, and the water is so still. Watch how the lake reflects the sunset. I love mirrors; they never fail to tell the truth. To be honest, I’ve really been missing my family lately…I haven’t mentioned this before, because to convey the whole story would take some time…If you want me to, I will, but do you have anywhere to be tonight? Okay, but first, some wine….There you are. To life! Ah…Good isn’t it? Don’t let it go to waste; it’s rather pricey.

Well, I suppose I haven’t talked about this before because I feel such a great deal of shame for what I’ve done to my family. I’ve certainly done some sordid things in my life. Before I dropped communication with them, I was filled with such hate. My parent’s bitterness infected my heart. I became angry, deceitful, spiteful; my actions became increasingly offensive. My girlfriend of seven years left me. She said I’d changed, that I wasn’t the man she fell in love with.

I was so angry with them all. It felt like nothing that came with sincerity from my heart would make them happy. I started writing them awful letters. I mocked them. I told them they were garbage, that they were horrible, hateful, ignorant parents who took out their failings and shortcomings on their kids because we were easy targets. I openly slandered their names in an exaggeratory memoir. I embarrassed them, made up horrific stories of abuse and infidelity, and humiliated them in front of their church who I blamed almost as jealously. I remember traveling two hours our of my way once when I was in their region just to vandalize their house and cars….Hmmmmh.

My relationships with others died off as well. I stopped trusting people, used them, disposed of them when I was through with them. I contemplated suicide….I’ve never told anyone this, but I faked my own death. It was a disappearance that has kept people guessing for years. A few months ago, someone wrote an article about it in my hometown paper. Isn’t the internet amazing?

Anyway, I sliced my palm while out on Lake Michigan. You can still see the scar…faded a little, though. I swam to shore after dressing my wound, and then I fled to Mexico. Some facial reconstruction, a dye job, and a new identity can do wonders. But, I needed more. I still felt like I needed to do something else, that I wasn’t finished. I realized I could see their reactions to my death if I went to my own funeral, and against my better judgment, I went.

It was strange. I was surrounded by people I knew intimately, but I was forced to pretend not to know them. Not many people were there, really; my family, some friends, a couple ex’s. By that time, I had the impression that I wasn’t missed, but that wasn’t exactly true. They missed the old me, the one who loved. I suppose they’d already mourned over me when I let myself be transformed by hate. I was already dead to them.

Yet, they still spoke of me in fairly positive terms. It may have been a modest funeral, but the eulogies were revealing of what was in their hearts. I had made positive impacts on my friends and family when I was on better terms with them. It seemed as if they had become more loving. They felt guilty; like I wanted them to, and they openly wept at the funeral. My parents barely ever cried, and when they did it was never in public. I finally saw how much they loved me.

         Isn’t it funny? I left them because I thought they were hateful, intolerant people, and consequently, I took on all of those parasitic characteristics and more. So with revenge in one hand and self-loathing in the other, I started a new life here in Germany. You know what I learned? Revenge slips away quickly, but self-loathing and guilt grow like weeds in the soul that harbors them. I hoped I’d move on, but to this day I’m still trapped in a shame that blocks my way to happiness.

         But you knew some of that already, didn’t you Blair? Or, should I say Michael? Surprised? Have more wine…You were a little obvious for a private investigator, or maybe I’m just that paranoid. In either case, I noticed you following me around and so when we met I researched your name. The history came up short, so I dug deeper and found out that Blair was an alias. You’re probably curious why I confessed this to you when I knew you worked for my sister? That’s complicated. To begin with I’ve never told a soul about what I’ve done, and I really needed to get this off my chest. I also wanted to know if I was right in how you found me. Was it because I signed the guestbook in my new name? I knew it! I regretted that right after I signed.

        You must have thought I was the killer, right? I thought so. They say a criminal makes numerous mistakes that give them away when they commit a crime. I guess that’s true. I know you work for Shea because I hacked your computer. At first I was flattered to think that she cared so much, but I figured she may have just wanted closure or, simpler yet, to satisfy her curiosity. Finally, and this you don’t want to hear, but you will anyway…finally, because you aren’t going to tell anyone….Sorry, but I don’t believe you won’t by your own volition…I believe you won’t because, well, I won’t let you. You see, I slipped something into your last glass of wine. Try moving your legs. The paralysis should reach your arms any second now.

        Don’t move, or I’ll shoot. I’m sorry it came to this, but you got too close. I can’t be exposed for my lie. I’ve worked too hard at this deception to be uncovered by some gumshoe. Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed? Do you have any idea what it’s like to live everyday pretending to be someone you aren’t? This isn’t just hiding interests from your parents. I had to fake everything! Everything! I left because I hated hiding, and hid because I left. We create our own hell, don’t we? What skeletons lurk behind your eyes, Michael? The truth is, I’d rather die than let them discover the truth. I’ve hurt them enough. If there’s anything I can do for my family now, it’d be to maintain my guise.

And so, here’s what’s going to happen. Since you can’t move, I’m going to bind your wrists and ankles, loop this rope through the bindings behind your back and through the cinder block, and dump you into the water. You see, I planned this more than a week ago. I think I’m going to move to Ireland. I loved it when I travelled there. The hills are so beautiful.

Now I want you to know that I like you Blair, I mean Michael. You’ve truly been a good friend while I’ve known you. Because of that, this gun doesn’t contain bullets. It’s a tranquilizer gun. I just realized…I’m hiding the truth inside of nature’s looking glass. Mirrors always do tell the truth, though the truth sometimes lies beneath the surface…anyway, when I drop you in, you’ll be unconscious. No pain…like dying in your sleep. That’s how I hope to die, like falling into a dream. It’s the least I can do after all…..

Pensive Fantasies

The sun was beginning to set, and the light that shone through the windows was beginning to gild. The humidity had lessened – as did the heat – and Phillip got up from his desk and stood at his lectern. The rays of light illuminated the suspended dust, causing there to be visible beams of light in the otherwise dark, stone room. He could see the faces of his students as they listened attentively to his lecture or as they worked over their wooden desks on their assignments. One student, a particular favorite of Phillip's, would often illuminate in expression as his mind would grasp the concept at and, and as Phillip surveyed his empty classroom this image surfaced to his mind, bringing joy and contentment to his heart.

He heard the wind pick up as it combed its way through the arms and fingers of the trees that nearly encompassed the priory, and this triggered a desire with him to cross the room to the nearest window. From there, he could peer through a gap in the trees towards the village. The sky had begun to redden, and the sun crept faster and faster toward the horizon. He wondered how the weather would be the next day for school. “Maybe we'll take a walk through the woods tomorrow and discuss the beauty of God's creation,” he thought to himself. He could picture the students walking up the hill towards the priory, the luminescent boy slowly and thoughtfully sauntering up the path.

Then, the thoughtful boy and his companions disappeared at the chimes of the seven o'clock bells that signified the call to dinner.

Double Feature: "Caution: Angry Vagabonds May Cause Spontaneous Introspection" & "The Yellow Submarine of Bro-J, Fuzzy Muttons, & Red Buttons"

Yesterday, as I rode the bus, there was this ornery man who decided not to get off at the stop he had claimed he was going to get off on. Apparently, the driver knew where he was going, and my suspicion is that he frequently gets on the bus for prolonged periods of time simply to ride. I believe he is homeless.


In any case, the bus driver repeatedly informed him that he was required to have a destination, and he wouldn't offer one. Eventually, after lots of almost indiscernible curse words, he stepped off of the bus.


Later that day, I ended up walking by him three times, and he was in the same place, slumped over, doing nothing on the sidewalk. Kind of puts things into perspective, doesn't it? I mean, if it weren't for Paul, that could be me, except with the exchange of sex for for food, money, and clothing. Thank God for the angels in my life.


At the same time, I really felt bad for him. I wanted to reach out and help him, but not only was it not my place, but I need help myself. Impotent benevolence is maddening...


-Intermission-


Yesterday as I was walking the streets of Milwaukee, The Beatles crept across the screen of my mp3 player. I decided to peruse what I had of their immense catalogue, and up popped "Yellow Submarine." Instantly, a barrage of memories penetrated my thought-scape. But, the most vivid of all is when Jordan and I were walking down Cobb Road to meet Maddie, and Jordan taught me the lyrics to "Yellow Submarine" on the spot so that as Maddie came within an audible distance we would sing the song at the top of our lungs. Maddie, Jordan, I miss these days. I'm so glad you're in Brazil, Maddie, and I'm stoked that you'll be going to UW-Platteville, Jordan, but baby I'ma miss y'all.


-Fin-

Blargh

Currently listening to:





So, I'm hanging out with Jordan today, and of course his mom has to make things difficult. So, we end up just hanging out at the arts center and then taking the bus to Mayfair. Well, lo and behold, on the way back I lose my wallet on the bus. Of course, it has a prepaid Visa and the keys to the house and the arts center in them. So, now I'm screwed. I filled out a missing item report with the police and notified the Milwaukee County Transit System. I'll cancel my Visa and call Lost & Found once the lines are open. If it's not one thing, it's another.


I really need a job. It doesn't help that I laze around on my ass for half of the day because I'm getting used to real life again. It's so overwhelming, and I feel very ill-prepared. Who would have thought that getting a job, continuing school, and moving from point A to point B would be so difficult? Not this guy. This guy was too confident when he got out of jail, and started making rash decisions out of the gate. We live and learn, I suppose, but I feel like I've used too many of my fuck up cards. I'm overdrawn and God's going to come collect his interest if I'm not careful.


At least I've been meeting some cool people. There's Colin, Brian, Matt, Adam, and Kayla. It's because of people like them that I'm loving the city. Colin was so supportive and helpful tonight when I lost my wallet, walking me to the bus stop so I could talk to a driver on the route, making me pancakes while I try to distract myself with an application to Blockbuster, etc. You're a great friend, man.


Brian and Matt have also been helping break me into the city, and their friendship is much appreciated. I'm looking forward to seeing where the music possibilities end up. Adam's been a dear taking me out to dinner at Pizza Shuttle. My God was that pizza amazing. Good call, man. And, Kayla's just a hoot. Her and I are going to have to go meet some guys together sometime. I should call her tomorrow...


Still, though, I'm so overwhelmed by life right now. This would be so much easier if my family had my back. Knowing I have something to fall back on can be a real comfort instead of worrying about where you're going to live. Thank God Paul took me in. Otherwise, I'd be homeless right now. This, I do not need. I need to get a job, finish school, etc., not worry about addresses. I already have to worry that my wallet won't be recovered and I'll have to pay to have a new lock installed at Paul's...


At least I have good people surrounding me and supporting me. It's just too bad my family isn't included. At last Erika reached out. Love you, Erika. I need more people like you in my corner; it's looking fairly empty these days.


Tomorrow, I need to get more applications in and work on finishing the last lesson in my Creative Writing class. We'll see what actually happens.


Until next time...