Unsent 2

The snide comments that I make just for the hell of it, all the while communicating with you must be as annoying as being told that I don't make any effort to maintain contact with you  while exchanging messages. :)

Or maybe that is my natural response of distancing myself enough to not be scarred by the: if not commonplace: then accustomed to, simplistic and sudden lack in effort to continue communication.
Caused by a variety of reasons to be sure. Most of which were, are and will be out of your control. But before those even took or take place in order to make all absence 'Okay', I got lashed at by simple choice. Simple choice, I say because according to you, you do nothing, absolutely nothing without wanting to. Every action you take or make is not influenced at all by any of your surroundings in any way.

Forgive me for smiling while I say that. Since you probably already know how that falls apart as i say it. Finding yourself in the currently unbelievably rare and beautiful situation that you are now a part of, because something someone else said, or did. Hmm Hmm.

That in mind, along with the knowledge that, yes, we did discuss this in the past and you had admitted to doing so willingly and without outside influence, angered and hurt me. And so, as I've mentioned my naive masochism before, My coping mechanism for the repetition of such a situation would be my unending sarcastic remarks about the matter. All meanwhile maintaining contact with you. Fair trade I though it in our ever estranging friendship. You choose to let time pass us by, and I choose to show you a percent of how it affects me as the biting need suggests.

But it seems pride doesn't let you honor even that.:Laughs:

We had known from the start the trouble that we'd be to one another. But that's purely Proportional or Exclusively a Point of view now. A sad realization, to be honest.

The damnable Humor of it, to speak like we've known each other all our lives, or argue endlessly.

This is the Second Unsent Letter.

All written, then deleted, Only to be replaced with:

"::sighs and smiles kindly::... I think this is enough."

Myself and I

It is interesting how close-minded I am about people needing to be open-minded.

Poetry 4

There's so much more I could add to this. 

But, people's unwillingness to understand has taught me brevity.

Hmm, Hmm. Enjoy.

~Life just in Passing~

My father taught me I'm alone in this world.

My mother, how to lie.

My sisters, Patience.

My friends, how to be callous.

The beginning of my relationships, that there is love;

The endings, that it's rare.

Your indifference, that there are others more important.

Your stupidity, that I have much to learn still.

Your disloyalty has given meaning to Honor.

Your coldness increases my want to be warm to others.

Your Lies, push me to be Truthful.

Your absence, how to be there for others.

Your misery, how to smile.

You lack of Humor, how to laugh.

Life teaches me that I'm still alive.

If anything, What have I taught you?

Just me messing around?

 First Draft

I've had this scurrying around in my head for some time, but I don't think I've actually succeeded getting all of it out yet. Maybe some of you will clarify that for me. Enjoy.

Possibilities: In Love with Circumstance

Have you ever fallen in love with an idea; With the prospect and thought of the hope, that something may indeed come of what you are experiencing. With the idea and wish and yearn for something that could prove amazing. Being disallowed, or denied the possibility of loving a person freely and expressively, results in such a thing. Falling in love with the circumstance leaves a vast gap where you place your fears, doubts and questions about everything you ever believed in. Not ever given the opportunity to craft a relationship for which the blatant blueprints exist.

Care, respect, mutual understanding; or so one would like to believe, and the strongest of friendships that you could have ever imagined possible; All those at your fingertips, yet the relationship is still painfully out of reach. This tears a hole in your being.  A gap that a person like myself, never thought possible. Having my share of heart break, I painted myself at the ready for the next. I was already broken. I could not possibly break further. That I had every angle covered. You may laugh now, because if I had every possible outcome figured, I would have not fallen in love to begin with. Heart ache hurts, and I, like many of you; happen to be allergic to pain.

The pain resulting from the inability to express your true feelings in turn causes the body and soul to undergo a severe allergic reaction. It’s not a pretty thing. You break out in hives of doubt, you sweat questions within questions. Your body can’t breathe because of the intense reaction your soul is having while wondering why this hurts so damn much. Your heart speeds up with nowhere to go, and your body turns so cold that you think you are numb to everything, when in fact, you feel nothing but the constant pain of insecurity. Your tongue doesn’t swell in this case, but your heart. It is heavy, and the chasm within it where you place all your questions and doubts makes it understandably so. In a desperate attempt to recover, you soon you begin to try your hand in answering some of these quandaries yourself. Obviously, the conclusions you come to with only your heart and experience as a reference, are not exactly in the best presentable and finite conditions that most conclusions make a habit of being. This starts to change your outlook on experiencing love you once thought pleasant. Lo and behold; The naive part of you begins to die.

You do die, a part of you dies, and this is normal; Normal because you never think the same way again, ever. Ever more, wishing you still felt and thought how you used to think. But that has changed, and you mourn this about yourself. Because that purity or innocence of how you perceived love and relationships is gone permanently; altered to never be the same again. You even start to question whether you were in love at all. Seeing as you’ve wanted for so long that the thing you find solace in thinking about is the concept of being given the opportunity to form that bond with that certain someone. You might have even questioned if you loved that person to begin with. In all honesty if you really loved them, you would never made it to that sordid conclusion, regardless of the heartache and emotional distress that they are directly or indirectly causing you. You still love them. This comes with being broken, but I’m getting ahead of myself. No, I don’t rightly think I am. Let’s move on. After all, it only makes sense now that I’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.


Being broken, as some, including myself like to say; comes with the territory of loving. Your thoughts, now, are fragmented rationalizations, pieced assertations, and remnants of naive dreams and ideals that our current ’cold reality’ has rendered so; declaring said scraps of rationalizations, assertations and dreams, belong only in the latter half of the 18th century. This is the time period where Romanticism began to sweep across the land. This land anyway. I’m not really sure. Maybe you should ask Coleridge and Wordsworth. Like the composition of this semi-last assertion, Broken is what your heart has been and what your pattern of thought will always be on this subject for the rest of your life. But that was never my point was it? Yeah, I think I’ve made my dramatic point with the aesthetics of this particular piece. Time to piece this emotional wreck back together.

You fell in love, and now hurt for one reason or another. You fell in love with the notion of being in love and now you have confusion and doubt and questions; that if you ever are lucky enough to get an answer to; only leave you with even more questions to ask. That is how you learn, and that is how you grow, by asking more questions. Learn what feeling is like, and get hurt in the process, because only the really unlucky few never know heartache. I hope that I have clarified very little about being in love, hope that I succeeded in wasting your time and maybe, just maybe, left you wondering why I wrote this at all.



~Its only me in love with the circumstances
But
They all Circumvent
You.~

Nice break was it not? NOT!

Its been a while since I’ve written here. Disappointing really. Since the only thing that’s been coursing through my mind has been to write. The text book for my college writing class arrived about 5 days ago, Steps to Writing Well 8th edition. Been rather reluctant to open it. Is it because I’m afraid that what it has to say may contradict all of my current biased beliefs about writing? Maybe it is the fact that I’ve bee hoarding ‘how to’ books about writing for the better part of my life? What am I afraid of? Could it actually teach me something life altering and actually take me somewhere? Am I really that afraid of change to begin with? Could it really alter my way of writing for the worse? I’ve held and paged through it so many times, people are starting to think I’ve a strange fascination with books. HA… not even close. I’m terrified of it. And I’ve been wanting to write myself into a corner so that I can explore the reasons behind my phobia and overcome them. Just finishing the writing assignments for class is not enough for me. Anything is vestigial when no heart is put into its creation. But that’s another self proclaimed truth. Let see how many of them stand up to the test of the Open Mind and Blank Heart. After all I’ve got a lot to write about and some of you really need to read it.

It just makes sense to me

I appreciate the opportunity you have given me to submit all the late assignments that I have fallen behind on. This was truly an unexpected  but welcome lesson in that if I communicate more with my instructors, I will be able to formulate a plan of action to accomplish work assigned should I begin to fall behind.

However. I must decline and take the Failure. This decision is not based on that I have been informed that I can easily retake this class. Nor is it based on the small amount of time that I have left to complete and submit the tardy work. I had formulated a time table in which I have been working hard and steadily just to satisfy my goal of accomplishing most if not all of the work. But as I near the completion, and look over the labs and the Final Project I am not pleased with what I am realizing. Granted, due to the unforeseen circumstance my grades began to deteriorate at an alarming rate. I refuse to let that happen in the future. I have made this decision because I am not in any way comfortable with the information that I am left with coming out of this class should I pass it. Just rushing through and finishing the Labs and Quizzes will not and has not made me retain information. Most of it is unclear to me. I do not feel that I've given the class the opportunity and time necessary for me to gain value from it. This is where the chance to retake this class now comes into consideration. The only way for this class to benefit me now, is to retake it. I will have to speak with my academic advisor about this choice to see how I will proceed with my classes. But again, I thank you for the eye opening opportunity that you have given me. I hope to be able to apply what I've learned here in the future to not only further my progress in the computer field but every class as well.

Truly Grateful,


~~Suck it up Slain, you've just been Pwned in the face. Don't let it happen again.

Poetry 3

 OH LOOK!! I finished it. >_> Well, here it is. Don't ask me how long it took me to write it because it will make you sick. Try to read it slowly... i lost myself reading it too fast.  Hope you like it.

~Savage Heart~

Human psyche has more than one art.
Reacting with sense or that more sensitive heart..
A primitive basic and unyielding part.
A passion that very little has ever succeeded to thwart.

And you should never relinquish that
Or regret the feeling which your heart has told
A fear overcome slowly but surely makes you that
Much stronger and in lovers and loving most bold.

Open your eyes and embrace that instinct with
Powerful longing, yearning and lusting to learn.
And slake it you will once you mark it with
Your touching, feeling; Kissing with your lips, which still burn.

Burn with the desire to show that
unbridled fiery love
That even in passing is still Heart
held nigh high wielding and stronger than the great above.

Wear proudly your wishes to caress,
hold and care in that powerful trance.
Because no one, save you can stress
Just how deserving you are of such hot romance.

Ignore those around you, whose obvious lack in lessons love
Is causing that yours be that Slowly bleeding heart.
Let them move on unknowing,
as they shy away from wanting part.

For fear of being overwhelmed and
Drowning in the
Sonorous…
Echoing…
Thunderous…
Reverberant and Resonant,
Beatings of your Savage Heart!

Poetry 2

 I realize this is just some filler, but I'm currently working on another poem. Please curb your enthusiasm.

Written a some time ago, I realized this just simply is too true to ignore. And in my modest experience, I reserve the right to say, that this, up to this day, can happen... more than just once. :) Hope you enjoy.  Titled 'It Happens'

~It Happens~

Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.

Think its not thy usual quirk.
and in wonder lies a grinning smirk.
Smile a grin and smirk a quirk
For every flaw, at her I smirk.

Her laugh a common rarity
Her voice a noisy Sonnet.
Her looks comparable to many

Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.

And in their vanity
their existence upon it
my stimulated Heart and mind fails that many

so... strength of soul and heart of Mind
Won me over LENGTHS of time before her
gaze entered mine.

So is it You or I? Or both as we write from
my mind.. to my mind.

Just when you find an ease in breathing,
Someone comes along unseeming.
Wraps your eyes in lustrous gleaming,
and sends your lungs for breath a pleading.

About as insane for being me as you are sane for being you.

I was damaged long ago. I'm sorry that my coping mechanisms aren't up to your circumstantially inexperienced Standards.

"Sanity is the lot of those who are most obtuse, for lucidity destroys one's equilibrium: it is unhealthy to honestly endure the labors of the mind which incessantly contradict what they have just established."‎
 

"All ambitions are lawful except those which climb upward on the miseries or credulities of mankind. All intellectual and artistic ambitions are permissible, up to and even beyond the limit of prudent sanity. They can hurt no one."
 

 ‎"Art, in the artist, is proportion, or, a habitual respect to the whole by an eye loving beauty in details. And the wonder and charm of it is the sanity in insanity which it denotes."
 

"I had a quick grasp of the secret to sanity—it had become the ability to hold the maximum of impossible combinations in one's mind."
 

‎"Our sense of worth, of well-being, even our sanity depends upon our remembering. But, alas, our sense of worth, our well-being, our sanity also depend upon our forgetting."
 
 
‎"Sanity remains defined simply by the ability to cope with insane conditions."

 
In all seriousness; if being serious is required when faced with an important situation, then there is no riddle in why I find it so hard to extrapolate a singular, serious thought, from those that express I am too serious in my thinking. Seriously.

Poetry

I wrote it around March 12, 2009. This one is called 'Think'.
I guess this is one of the many sporadic poems I will be posting and quoting.

How narcissistic, right?

~Think~

Do you.... do you ever?
Ever.... wonder where you are?
Are you.... a Regreter?
Regreting.... everything you are?

Do you... do you ever?
Ever.... Wonder why you are?
Are you... a Believer?
Believing... everything you are?

Did you... did you ever?
Ever.... choose what you were?
Were you.... a Doubter?
Doubting everything you were?

Did you... did you ever?
Ever... Prove you're worth what you were?
Were you... an Idolater?
Praising everything you were?

Would you?.. Could you?
Should you? Change all that you are?

Will you?
will you??
WILL YOU!?!
Just Maybe... and maybe soon?
Soon....Improve....
On...
What...
You....
...Are...?

My Name, it's of No Consequence

It’s just a name right? But it’s also all of my being.

Tiger's eye is mined in Western Australia, South Africa, USA, Canada, India, Namibia, and Burma.

Many legends about quartz say that wearing tiger's eye (which is a form of quartz) is beneficial for health and spiritual well being. Legend also says it is a psychic protector, great for business, and an aid to achieving clarity.

The look of the stone is capturing and inspiring to me. It feels warm and soothing to view. I just simply love it.

    I could be that in my modest love life, I came to be playfully called Tiger. More even so, it could have been that my friendship and loyalty was at one point described to be as fierce as a tiger. Maybe it had a little something to do with the fact that I was born on the year of the Tiger 1986 according to the Chinese Zodiac. In description, those born on the year of the Tiger, tend to have certain qualities.

(Yang, 3rd Trine, Fixed Element Wood): Unpredictable, rebellious, colorful, powerful, passionate, daring, impulsive, vigorous, stimulating, sincere, affectionate, humanitarian, generous. Can be restless, reckless, impatient, quick-tempered, obstinate, selfish, aggressive, moody.

    But lets face it, we’ve all been these at one time or another. That out of the way, I can also mention that my interest in William Blake’s The Tyger might have influenced my name slightly. Literary jargon about what that poem means aside, I just love the way it’s written.
   
    In my view, meaning behind a written work is only up to two people. The one that wrote it and the person reading it at the time. All these analysts out there claiming en masse that any particular form of written work could only mean one thing; and that it is a fact, have no original work of their own.

                    ANYWAY!

    Now for the foremost part of my name. Slain. Simple enough. Those that read odd things have come across this word to simply mean: killed. Past participle of Slay. To destroy or extinguish. To kill by violence.  Kinda emo no? Well, it just so happens that while in high school, my dating life consisted of a continuous string of heartbreaks that I just would not LEARN FROM. All from one girl. So yea, Kudos to Cloud 9 on raping my existence so thoroughly.

    For those who know what true heartbreak and heart ache is. Then you don’t need me to repeat that it feels like dying. Like a part of you will never be the same. A part of you that you wished to remain intact, now lies in pieces. This, is like watching a section of you die, to never return. Thus the hyperbole fits. Get over it.

    More lighthearted description? Sure, My name is Jesus. Simple, short, sweet, magnet to religious prejudice, ridicule, and constant misconception of those very uneducated, that I was being named after a rather famous and widely known Myth. I’m sorry but my social security card doesn’t have ‘Christ’ or ’Cristo’ anywhere on it. Sorry to disappoint. I do enjoy the jokes though. Those are welcome.

    My father was a Minister in the Church of Christ. I grew up pretty much conditioned to that life, till I started to think for myself. The kicker? My father supported me in my decisions, but of course leaned on me being religious. I chose to be baptized at 15. A freedom of choice I’m proud to wave in from of those who swear that ‘Once a Zombie always a Zombie’ and baptize their children before they can have a conscious thought on the matter.
   
    So I was “named” based on the guy that was Slain on the cross for all of our stupid decisions. Alright. I’ll bite. My heart has been made to bleed more than I care to remember, and the denotation of my name resembling a guy lynched for no good reason.

Slain it is.

SlainTigerEye. Or Slain tiger I am, Slain Tiger am I.  It is of my play on the words Slain Tiger, Aye. Yes? Aye. I’ve been slain many times. And in my eyes, I the Tiger will be Slain.

Life throws things at me that hurt and lacerate, burn, cut and gash my soul. But I refuse to die to the world. I refuse to deaden my emotions and heart to those that I've yet to come to know and appreciate. Parts of my personality have been killed and murdered and destroyed; altered, changed and affected. But through all of that I've also learned that I would never want to put another through the things I've been through.

I respect and honor and feel
and hope to encounter those with the same ideal.

I answer to Slain.

But I am not dead.