Life is..

Life is the fight for a dream. Do we fight enough though? Often we just seem to give up. Look at our world and it is easy to see that so many have given up. Given in. Or perhaps are just too tired. I am certain many can relate to this.

I, too, can find myself guilty of this. I may make excuses like, my dreams died along time ago. or the infamous one, about how they are not possible anymore because I am too old. This leads me to a simple question then.

If life is the fight for a dream and we are not fighting, are we really living at all?

So long, my friend.

You were there for me in the darkness,when all is silent.

You were there for me when I was invisble, how did you find me?

You were there when I was behind a locked door.

Even though I did the crime, you forgave me.

When no one else understood, it was perfectly clear to you.

But now is the time to say goodbye..

Your love is a little death every time we meet.

It is either you or me, for I can no longer live with you.

You should leave before I kill you…..

I am the wind

Not like the fire…

It roars and soars. Always looking forward and burning bridges.

Creating new paths and destroying old ones.

Not like the earth….

Stable and solid, realiable to the end.

Unshakable and comforting, a place for growth.

Not like the water….

Not restistant and overly conforming.

Unflappable and shapeless,weakness and strength.

Like the wind…

Strong sometimes and weak others.

Carries the voice of the world and barely effects much with it.

I am the wind, for what that is worth.

(a work still needing work perhaps)

AXE

P.s. I am back for awhile,I suppose. Not sure how many will even notice. I am unsure as to why I posted the above writing. I had it from a dream and I am not really sure I did it justice.

At any rate, I have a few things to share and add so I shall be typing alot in the near future.

THX for vositing!

Above the World

Imagine, if you will, the night.

Cold and dark, covered in mist.

Come with me to the park.

We will climb the trees to their tops.

Then we can murmur to each other

and only the birds will hear our words.

As we sit above the world.

Worth The Walk

And so it began. The journey was anew once more. A journey of a thousand lifetimes or perhaps only one, he knew not for sure. Was the knowing really that important? A question he had asked himself many times before. He understood the 3 basic principles of knowledge. He knew that nobody knew it all. He knew that nobody would ever know it all. And finally, he knew that it was probably best, that nobody ever knew everything. Some knowledge is simply too dangerous to know.

So the knowing was not the important issue and this was clear to him. But then what was important? What made him take the next step down that lonely and forever directionless road? What made him turn the corner onto that next avenue? Why is it that he traveled without a map? You would think by now he would have at least gotten some shoes.

But on he walks. Step after step. Delibertly making his way down the long and winding road. Sometimes he looks back in reflection. remembering the parts of the road that had a particular crispness or clarity. Sometimes he looks back and remembers the times when a new vision gripped his mind and grabbed his soul. Sometimes he looks back and just remembers.

Yet, it is the looking forward which grabs his attention the most. The anticipation of what may lay around each bend. The fuzzy image of something that is very far away but looks interesting, possibly filled with promise. While what is behind always contains things that are unchangeable, what is ahead can be changed and always offers hope.

He ponders this and realizes, that these thoughts… this very moment of understanding, is what it all is really about. Though looking back can be enriching and looking forward can be revitalizing, It is the moment we live in, that is what matters. What we do now can change what is come and make sense of what was behind. It is the journey of the moment, that makes the road we are on, worth the walk.

The man continues down the road …

AXE

As I Gaze Through the Smoke…

I wake up and opened the drawer. I remove the laptop, set it down, open and power it up. I then reach for the pack of cigarettes and eject one. Toss the pack and grab the lighter. Spark and smoke, hum from the laptop. I drift and start to remember a day. Through the smoke of my mind, that day from long past begins to unfold once more.

It was 6th grade and I was really too young to be considering such things. But he was a new friend, it was a new school year, and the excitement of exploration still lay before me.

He told me ” Come with me to the field, I something I want to show you.” Neither I, nor my other friend Mark, had any idea what it was that our new friend Tim, had to show us. But we were both curious. We were really curious since he wanted to show us in the field. That ment it was something that the adults of the school were not supposed to see. That ment it was a no-no and everyone wants to know about that!

A look passed between me and Mark and we both knew there was no way we were going to miss out on this. Almost as one, we replied with a resounding “yes” and all 3 of us started walking toward the field.

The “field” was just this area of grass that was mowed but nothing had been added to it. It was still school property and we were allowed to go there. Most of the school kids did not go there though as there was nothing built on it. No swings, or slides, or anything really. Just a plain ole’ empty field. But it had it’s merits. It was not perfectly flat. There were small dirt mounds here and there and if you got on the other side of one of them and sat down, nobody could see you. This made it the perfect place for showing your school friends stuff you were not supposed to have. You know, that new pocket knife or that page torn from a porn magazine and tossed into the garbage.

Having arrived at a place we all agreed was good, we sat down. I could see that Mark was nervous and wondered if he could tell I was. I am certain he probably could. We both looked at Tim and he got the hint and immediately began digging into his back pocket.

With a little effort he finally pulled out this small box. It was red and white and had black letters on it that spelled out the word ” Marlboro” on it. Neither of us was sure what it was that he was holding until he opened it up and we saw the cigarettes. I instantly realized what they were because my mother smoked. I am not so certain that mark did though, as neither of his parents smoked.

Tim withdrew a cigarette and handed me the pack. I took a real good look at it having never had a pack of cigarettes in my hands before. It had some cool artist designs on it and was not offensive or scary in any way. While I was looking at the pack Tim had dug into his pocket and had removed a lighter.

As I passed the pack of cigarettes back to Tim I told him”I have never smoked a cigarette before” and he told us “Don’t worry, I will show you how.”

He leaned forward and lit the cigarette he had removed from the pack earlier. Once lit he started waving it back and forth and explained” This will dilute the smoke so no one will see it”. After taking a few hits off of the cigarette and blowing the smoke towards the ground, he passed it to Mark. Mark glanced at me briefly with what looked like a question in his eyes but he said nothing and proceeded to take a hit off of the cigarette. It looked like everything was going to be fine until Mark started to blow the smoke out. That is when he started coughing and turning red. He quickly handed the cigarette back to Tim.

Tim started to hand it to me and must have seen some doubt in my eyes because he hestitated and told me” Not everyone reacts to it the same way. Some people end up coughing and others have no problems with it. If you are tough enough you should have no problem handling it.” Then he handed me the cigarette and I took it. There was no way I was not tough enough!

I raised the cigarette to my mouth and inhaled. It was harsh and hurt my throat. It burned and had a really bad taste. Like eating ashes, I suppose. Not sure, as I had never eaten ashes but I figured this was probably what it tasted like. I did not cough though. I refused to. I quickly exhaled the smoke and handed the cigarette back to Tim.

Tim had to finish smoking that cigarette by himself. Neither of us wanted any more of it.

My mind snaps back to the here and now. The realization of that memory is just a side effect of the near future or so I figure it must be. It must be a result of the reality that will soon manifest itself. For my smoking days are near to their end.

The state, in its infinate wisdom and greed, will be adding a $15.00 per cartoon tax at the beginning of next year. That would nearly double the price I am currently paying for a cartoon of cheap generic cigarettes. Thus I cannot afford to continue with this habit. The state government has made it a rich man’s habit and I am a poor man.

So this chapter of my life comes to a close. Not to happy at being forced into quitting. It was the one thing that had been with me all of my adult life. Through good times and bad, there was always a cigarette to comfort me.

The only consulation I can get from this, is that I am quitting on the day I choose instead of waiting until the government tax forces me to.

Obviously, this will effect my blog posting. I may not be in the mood to post for awhile. Quitting smoking will be the hardest thing I have ever done. It is very likely that there will be no posts after Dec.22nd for awhile.

(Axe lights another cigarette and gazes through the smoke some more)

Tags: dangerous, hell, mistakes, poison, story, thoughts, writings

This post will self-destruct in 5 seconds..

Well, it almsot seems like that is what happens. You spend a half hour, an hour or longer designing your posts,finding the subjects that you think may create some interest. You may even add some tags to your post on the off chance someone will do a search and find your post. Invaribly though, the post goes up and is gets listed on the recent posts list for 5 seconds or less. Was your time spent really only worth 5 seconds?

I have to ask that question. When you have been sick for 4 days. You have coughed so hard, you are pretty sure you pulled some kind of muscle in your diaphragm. You are beginning to wonder if ths is the one that will kill you. When all this is taking place, you have to ask is 5 seconds enough?

Honestly, I do not think it is. This is my 94th post to this blog. 94 failures without a single post being noticed by the general public at large. I have to wonder how many more will I remain invisible? Will my death also go unnoticed? I am quite sure I know the answer to that last question but I dare not utter it.

In the end, I suppose it does not matter. Nothing really does. Life is fodder for the real people. Lives are ment to be wasted. Every person born today is just someone to ignore tommorrow.

I am far too sick to care, if this post self destructs in 5 seconds.

AXE

 

Tags: general stuff, thoughts, writings, posting, ignored

Unspoken Dreams

A young man walked along the path. He knew his destination was not far.There were many leaves blown onto the path before him. They made an almost deafening roar as his shoes smashed them aside and into the ground.

The autumn air was brisk and kept him cool as he walked. Although clouds filled the sky, there was still plenty of light to see his path through the forest.

The walk was comforting to him and his thoughts filled his mind.Taking him through many familiar lines of reasoning, yet even in this serenity of nature; the answer, the direction remained the same.

But he had come to accept this. It was not as if, he had not fought and struggled with himself over it. Many countless nights he had found himself going over it all, in his mind. Like a record that has been played too many times, it just skips, again and again until the end has been reached. Always the same.

The path veered sharply right and climbed. He turned with it and his steps became more deliberate and measured. His thoughts turned to his destination. The hill which he ascended too many times in the past. His perch above the town below, this hill that rose above the small town he had resided in, all his life.

He had come there many times before. It was a place to think, a place of solitude, of peace and of privacy. Although his reason for coming here this time is not exactly the same as it was in the past, he trusted that it wouls still hold some of those qualities.

The climb up the hillside was going maddeningly slow. The pain in his leg was growing sharper with each step he took. The pain grabbed ahold of his thoughts, the accident that took place six months ago came clearly into his mind.

He and a friend were driving home from a game. They were not really going too fast, slightly above the speed limit. Just as they rounded a corner they saw the light they had seen coming around the corner, was from another car traveling in the opposite direction as them, and it was in their lane! His friend startled, quickly jerked the car right. The car crashed through a fence. Then they were in the air…falling.

After that he cannot remember. His mother told him later in the hospital, that the car had landed nose first and then fipped end over end, down a deep ravine. He was told that both he and his friend were lucky to be alive. He was not so sure he agreed with that last part.

While his friend had suffered only minor cuts, bruises, and some cracked ribs, his injuries were a bit different. He got the cuts and bruises of course, but it was the leg injury that was bad. He lost part of the muscle tissue and was lucky to be able to walk at all. The accident ruined any future career in sports and changed his life forever.

His mind moved away from these thoughts as he finally reached the top of the hill. His eyes began to gather in all that he was seeing. A small town, with its shops, boardwalks, streets, and people, lay sprawled out before him. Beyond the town lay fields of green and yellow. A few farm houses and barns could also be spotted. In his mind this was the perfect view of small town america. Simple, serene, and cozy.

As he sat down on a nearby stone, he pulled the shiny metal object from his back pocket. Sliding his fingers carefully, almost caressing it, his mind once again sank into his thoughts. The last six months of pain and agony crept into his mind. The times he cried fighting the intense pain to make a single step. The times when he realized, as he lay in bed at night, that he would never run again. The times he cried when he saw that his unspoken dreams would not happen.

The pain and the anguish flushed through him. Like poison coursing through his veins. Fiercely, he slipped his thumbnail into the notch of the blade. Then a quick flick of his wrist and the blade of the knife was fully entended.

Thoughts swirled around in his head. A kaleidoscope of images round and round. He thought his head might explode when suddenly everything stopped…

An over-whelming sense of calm came upon him as one thought came to the front. It was clear and its clarity shouted “A life without dreams is not worth living!” This single thought echoed loudly over and over in his mind, “A life without dreams is not worth living!” He could not fight it anymore, he could not find another answer. A tear slid out and rolled down his cheek. He harshly wiped it away and slammed the knife into his wrist.

The pain that shot through his arm almost made him pass out. Having been in that accident, he had endured much worse and was able to retain consciousness. Gritting he teeth together he began to rip the knife up his arm. The pain became so intense that he began to scream as he wrenched the knife further up his arm.

In all the pain he had not realized the amount of blood that was spilling out of him. It was on the rock he sat on, on his shoes, on the grass. He, for some reason, thought it would have been more red. But it was almost as black as oil.

His eyes raised up from the blood on the grass and fell upon his arm. A six inch gash stood out glaringly and blood flowed forth. The knife fell from his hand. He felt kinda sick looking at it, Slightly light-headed also and that made him decide to look away from it.

He looked down at the town once more and noticed that the town had a slight orange hue to it. It dawned on him that the sun was setting. ” My last sunset. If only I would have had some dreams worth living for ” he thought.

He noticed it was getting darker and then sensed he was falling. He felt a hard pressure on his right side and guessed he must have fallen to the ground. He attempted to get up but nothing happened.

The thought came to mind once more “A life without dreams is not worth living.” Then he noticed it had gotten very dark and he thought ” I am sorry mom.”

The sensation that he was once again falling began to creep up on him and he started to feel colder.

Then a thought flashed in front of his mind. As loud and clear as the previous one that had haunted him for so long. ” Life is not ment for living dreams, it is ment for helping others live theirs.”

Darkness.

No pain.

Darkness…

Copyright-2006-JB Thomas

 

Tags: general stuff, growing, ownership, thoughts, writings, death, suicide, mistakes

A Record of Friendship

I find and you may have also noticed to, that even on the internet an experience one has expreienced, whether it be from the distant past or even recent, is hard to translate to text. Certainly we can give the accoount with a great abundance of detail yet something is always lost in the translation. The emotions get jumbled or are not as clear as what you felt. The intensity experienced, lost.

Knowing this and with it intimately in my mind, I still desire to share it. To let you into my mind, my soul, to let you catch a brief, feeble glimpse of my life. What is this desire? Is it a need? Does everyone has this? While I most definately do not know the answers to these questions and many others for that matter, I find it does not detract me, No, it does not dissuade me from attempting it anyway.

As we go through life sometimes things happen.Things that remind us of who we are.Things that remind us of what we were, where we have been, who we knew. It could a book we read, a movie, a TV show or even something as simple as a smell. Sometimes the memories they invoke are small glimpses of a past long forgotten. At other times the memory can be as strong as the wind in a hurricane. Impaling our mind with their intensity. The moment is gone as the past once again becomes the present. Then we know nothing else. We know not the day, the hour, nor where we are. For a moment in time, we are the memory.

The show ended and I fell. Back into time long ago. Back when video games had not been invented. Back when there were no microwaves, no VCRS, no DVDS or CDS. Back into a time when, you went outside and made friends. When friends were your entertainment and friendship was more than something romanticized in a book. Back when friendship was real.

The record of friendship spins once more in my mind. A slideshow of images flipping through my mind. Memories of rolling tires down hills to see who could roll it the furthest, of riding bikes on the trials through the woods, launching model rockets and chasing them down, building damns in a feeble attempt to control mother nature. Of even the simple things like playing boards games while making jokes and wisecracks with friends.

As the record spins the images in my mind, it also plays the music, the emotions attached to each of these images. The ups and downs of victory and defeat. The joy of finding new things to share and explore. The happiness of the moment spent in laughter.

Then the record ends. But the music still plays. A soft beat of sorrow. For all that is lost, for all that shall never be again… except in memory. Then I wish, the same thing I often wish for, that the record of friendship would break and play no more.

AXE

Tags: general stuff, story, writings, thoughts, friendship

Ghostly Cartoons

It was early morning and our parents were not up yet. But the sun was out and had broken through our window making it impossible to sleep anymore. We wanted to go out, we wanted to eat some breakfast, we wanted to watch cartoons.

However, on the weekends my brother and I were not allowed out of our bedroom until our parents got up. They did not want us getting into stuff while they were still sleeping. I guess, with me being 7 yrs. old and my brother being only 6 yrs. old , quite the troublemaker already, they thought it best for both of us to stay in our bedroom until they came and got us up.

Not knowing what time it was and having to make the best of this very boring situation, my brother climbed down from his bunk bed. We sat and we talked for a little while, then as usual ,my brother got bored and started complaining and I also, was beginning to feel the boredom myself.

“I’m Hungry!” he said.

“I want to go eat!” He whined and I agreed.

“I want to watch cartoons” he moaned and I replied ” Me too!”.

And that is when it happened…

There was the sound of static and then suddenly there appeared a picture on the my brother’s blanket that hung down from his bed. We both quickly moved a little closer and realized at once what we both were seeing. Cartoons! The morning cartoons were somehow being projected onto my brother’s blanket!

We quickly glanced at each other and both of us had this huge grin on our faces. Then we looked back toward the cartoons and moved closer for a better view and realized as we got closer that there was sound also! We both glanced around trying to figure out where the cartoons were coming from. Nothing behind us except for the wall, as the bunk beds were up against the wall. After about a minute of glancing around, we both gave up and just started enjoying the cartoons.

Not sure how long we sat there and watched them. A half hour? An hour? Perhaps more. It was not until we heard the footsteps of mom coming down the hall, that my brother jumped out of bed, grabbed his blanket and threw it all the way up onto his bed, just as mom walked into the room. She gave us one of those looks, you know the one that says to you “What are you up to?” My brother runs over to her and says ” Yaaa Mommy!” and gives her a big ole’ hug. The look passes from her face and we all go on to the kitchen for some breakfast.

We never did see the cartoons again. Guess, that is one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences that you never forget.

AXE

Tags: ghost, cartoons, story, writings