I know that it has been awhile since I’ve posted anything but I’m in the process of something new! Thank you all so very much for your patience and continued support despite my absence. It means more to me than I could ever say, and I am so blown away by the amount of feedback, views, and shares. I never imagined that my words would spread so far, but I hope it helps. Thank you and may you continue to find the strength to keep going.
So there’s a staircase that I’ve buried down deep in my mind
It’s the place that I made to cage
All the fear and anger inside.
In blood, etched on every step,
written line after line
Is the story of a man
Who struggles just to get by
He studies words on spiral stairs
All the good from the evil, the shadows from light, the truth within the lies.
He feels most safe within his head
Surrounded by his walls
On autopilot consciously, just waiting for the fall.
Despite the pain this man has felt
He holds his head up high
And walks with purpose down the stairs
Fire blazing in his eyes.
Step after step the stairs lead down
To a place where light is none
Seemingly peaceful, but simply decietful
Are these sirens disguised as the son.
Yes there are
Angels and demons at my back
I was stressing for a way to let my mind relax
Waging war everyday to keep my soul intact
With the weight of the world and a wicked past.
I was searching for a way to help heal the masses
So I started slinging blog posts about my passions.
It opened my eyes to a world of magic,
An underground community so filled with static
That it rekindled my motivation, I’m ecstatic
To see the road ahead as we walk that way
Pulling ourselves from this virtual pain.
I set out to be what most would call
a light in the dark where the world’s involved
Cause its not just the lost who need this bond
But the sheeple who have played this game far too long.
The indigo children such as I
do solemnly swear with all our might
To guide you through this horrid time
Obliterating burden from your blackened mind
liberateing love you locked inside
It’s not so hard to feel the pride
As you people place your hand in mine
Watch us rise, our wings expand.
Almost made it… The promised land.
Pride will be the end of us all. There is just something about the human that prohibits them from admitting when they are wrong, even when the people they “love” suffer. What people fail to realize though is that suffering is optional. There is nothing that will guarantee that these individuals will remain in your life. When you lose all the people in the world who used to carry you, what then? I guess being alone and still trying to convincing yourself that your actions are just is preferable to admitting fault, swallowing pride, and showing the people you “love” that they mean more to you than your own ego. Moral of the story is: When morality is in question, most people are simply too scared to take responsibility for the things they’ve done. Do not subject yourself to the toxicity of man voluntarily, surround yourself with the people who reciprocate the respect, love, and compassion that you exhibit, and cut ties with the people who are poisoning your happiness. It is not a bad thing to allow yourself to be happy, even now.
I’m reblogging this for Christian Mihai. This is a wonderful and very insightful read, well worth the time!
Have you ever written a letter? Was it to a stranger or someone close to you? Was it someone you loved, or just a passing acquaintance? Did they understand the meaning behind the words on the page, or did the writing remain unappreciated due to the lack of caring? Did they read it or did they disregard it completely? Did they really care at all? Did the words burst from your mind as if they had been dying to see the light of day, or were your thoughts jumbled and difficult to voice? How many times did you have to write the letter before it looked right to you? Did you care? What if I told you that your writing matters?.. What then?
Writing has always been my most personal form of communication, and I used to write often. The world was simpler then. Then one day I woke up and realized that somewhere along the way people in general were beginning to care less and less about what was written on the page, and more and more about the “romance factor” involved with letters… So now we all blog.
We blog because we are more afraid of one persons response to a letter more than the worlds. We blog because sitting down with a pen and paper would damn near be looked at as prehistoric in today’s society (go green and whatnot.) We blog so that there is still a hope of reaching that one person who needed to hear what we had to say. We blog so that we don’t feel like nobody is listening.
It seems to me that the letters that I used to write have all but fallen on deaf ears, and that truly is a devastating thought. All of the meticulous thought and effort wasted just because we (as men and women alike) have forgotten that there is an actual person on the other end of the pen or keyboard. We have become so desensitized to the feelings of both the people surrounding us as well as ourselves that we have forgotten to care about anything at all…
To those people in the world who have written beautiful pieces filled with their most profound emotions and watched helplessly as they were read and discarded, or seemingly ignored all together (as it seems to be in most cases.) To those people in the world who have a multitude of grace and intelligence to offer the world but refuse to do so because the world has not been kind to them. To all those people in the world who have something to say… There are still those of us who believe in the beauty and magic of writing, and take the writing on the page to heart. The world might not want to know what you have to say, but I can promise you that if you can find the people who do; It’s all worth it in the end. I care, and I always have. You just have to believe that it is still possible to find peace, and you will.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, “There is no privacy that cannot be penetrated. No secret can be kept in a civilized world. Society is a masked ball where everyone hides his real character, then reveals it by hiding.”
Based on my personal experiences in the world, I do not believe that this country represents the morals or ideals of its citizens. Maybe it did once, but that time has long since been buried and forgotten. The people of the United States of America have been censored and swayed so much by the corporate and social medias that we have lost our personal identities. We are so engulfed in the drama and the infatuation of fitting in with our fellow sheeple that we have donned a mask to hide our true faces. The mask is the ever-present façade that we broadcast to the world. The mask, like Atlas bears the weight of the world; forever being punished for crimes that weren’t of its own making. The tragedy is that we have become so blind to our surroundings that we as a conglomeration are beginning to believe our own lies, and have all but forgotten what our true faces look like at all. How long will men and women alike suffer in silence for a cause that has left them both bitter, and alone in the rubble of a better time? Mankind has created a mask that is worn whilst out in the world; when surrounded by strangers, exposed and vulnerable. This persona is rigid and reserved, hidden in plain sight for the entire world to see. The mask that we wear at home when we are surrounded by the ones we love is the closest that anyone will ever come to seeing our true face.
It has always been my understanding that putting faith in anyone other than God and myself will result in disappointment, and the cherry on top of the cake is that ignorance cannot be blamed; but rather lack of caring. There was a moment in the not so distant past that bore witness to a race of man that was free of judgment. A Race that was able to walk freely beyond the walls of their own homes without the masks that now chain these same men to the very streets they used to walk. How far must we fall before we realize that we are the cause of our own suffering; by then I just hope it isn’t too late. On the other hand, after scrutinizing how each individual treats another, the mask could be chalked up to nothing more than the most primal human instinct; Survival. This terrible plague could be nothing more than a defense mechanism, and if so, how can it be beaten? The pursuit of the answers to the former questions will infest the mind like a slow moving cancer until all faith in mankind is obliterated. E.E. Cummings once wrote, ‘To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.’ It is human nature to struggle with acclimation into society whilst also straining to maintain ones’ own identity. The road is long and paved with potholes, a lonely desolate wasteland, and it seems rather ignorant to hide from companionship while we travel; so why not deviate from the social norm and search for people who are also reaching for companionship. Walk blindly into the darkness that is the rest of your lives, and do so with the confidence that there will always be those of us who will seek you out in this darkness and give you the strength to take off the mask and face your fears.
I’m posting this for David Snape with the hopes that his kindness and words will reach others. Please show your support for this man and his blog.
Source: About Myself and how I changed throughout the years.
I’m sharing this for another blogger
A very wise insight into life. Definitely worth the read for people who are feeling the strains of life.
Source: The Strangeness of Living