charonpole

[charonpole]

Thoughts and prayers

You gotta obey You gotta comply You gotta be stepped You gotta rely ‘Cause the powers above you Will erase your smile So you gotta be gray And sell yourself to the grind If they say you gotta jump You answer for how long Doesn’t matter if they’re wrong Because that is to be strong But the times are changing And not thanks to you Don’t buy the lies they’re playing And don’t let it sink through ‘Cause the lights are for the brave And the shadows for the fools And our lives are ours to make When our souls are put to proof There’s no room for self-betrayal And we thrive against the blues

[charonpole]

Listen to it squeak

I'm pissed about what has become of me I'm in the middle of the ocean No paddle, no wind The sky gets darker and I feel something underneath The sea goes silent and we know what that means My hands feel bitter kissed by the salt and the leash that grips and twists around my neck I cannot breathe I wasn't prepared a wandering boat in a stream gently down despair I gotta be brave And grab life by the horns I hold them so tight but not as much as its scorn I cannot breathe I can't I grind my teeth And resist down the shore Becoming the mud that smothers me And my own sore

[charonpole]

One time too many

No, I don’t believe Your love, your faith, your need To be praised, to be adored, When you turn your back And close the door “Of course I do, Don’t be a fool, Everything I do, I do for you”. Maybe it’s my imagination That from dolphins and mermaids Turned to nightmare in fruition Of the silent accusation I held against you But you take me for a fool And I have to prove you’re right, I ought to, we know I hold myself in a dreamless night And soon enough I overflow I don’t want to fight. Maybe it’s guilt upon guilt Or it was a time too many A wall with brick and tears built And paid with a kiss and a penny. Now my skin is living flesh And you cry above my wounds I’d like to let go and start fresh A bit less blind, a bit more shrewd Past the shivering and dread A new life, a new brain, a new path.

[charonpole]

Lead

It’s a shame that from shame, It became something I despised.  Hate the monster, it’s a duty  Not to lick the devil’s face.  If it’s wounded, great, Cause the things it does,  The things it says,  It deserves to be cast aside,  Chained by the shades Of the darkest cave. You have to accept it, Your duty is to endure,  Silently, gratefully and with a smile on your face. Inside, that monster twirls my spine,  Scratching from the inside Of my bones.  Burning through my veins,  Screaming all the names,  Telling me to leave  And to destroy everything there is.  Because I’m worthy enough,  And I’m imperfect enough,  To be free, to be happy, to be me. I’ve built a lead lid, Trying my best to keep it within,  As if it were poisonous, radioactive, purely mean.  Self-love is its name,  And it never hurt me.

[charonpole]

"Does God want goodness or the choice of goodness? Is a man who chooses to be bad perhaps in some way better than a man who has the good imposed upon him?"

A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess

[charonpole]

What people need to understand is that it doesn't matter if there is a billion people believing in the same God in the same way that you: religion is, and always will be, an individual experience. It doesn't matter if you can enter a huge temple and have someone to guide you, it's all coincidence, construction and design. Support. No God will ever save someone by attendance; It always depends on your actions, your thoughts and the way you lead your life. Therefore, judging someone is wasting the precious, limited time you have (for which you're fully responsible) casting shadows on other people's minds instead of saving yourself from a particular concept of hell. It's self-damnation.

[charonpole]

“Angry people are not always wise.”

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

[charonpole]

“Have pity on those who are fearful of taking up a pen, or a paintbrush, or an instrument, or a tool because they are afraid that someone has already done so better than they could…”

The Pilgrimage - Paulo Coelho

[charonpole]

Normal

The lack of purpose is killing me. Work from 9 to 6, do one more thing, then sleep and repeat for money that, once on your account, disappears. I’ve been planning on travelling - for ten years. Yet it seems like I’m walking on a treadmill. It doesn’t matter how fast I run, it gets me nowhere. I want to live, I want to leave, but in order to do it, I need to just keep working, isn’t it? It isn’t. Or I wouldn’t be writing here. I’ve been telling all my folks there’s something wrong, they answer, sincerely, that it is what it is. And I don’t know how they make it or how they take it and make it work. I wonder, mesmerized, if there’s something different with my soul, my brain, if somehow I’ve been wired in a way I can hear the screams inside my veins, and it pains me, pains me terribly that having a normal life, normal job, normal schedule feels like swallowing a pebble with a smile on my face. I feel like I’m dying a terrible death. Loving life, wasting it, and being aware.

[charonpole]

"I am drowning, my dear, in seas of fire."

To the lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

[charonpole]

Often I just find myself Way too tired To.

[charonpole]

“I know your race. It is made up of sheep. It is governed by minorities, seldom or never by majorities. It suppresses its feelings and its beliefs and follows the handful that makes the most noise.”

The Mysterious Stranger - Mark Twain

[charonpole]

Sylvia Plath, aged 30, in a letter to poet W.S. Merwin, 4 months after discovering her husband's infidelity, and their subsequent separation (dated Thursday, 8 November 1962)

[Ted Hughes (aged 32) - her husband, who was having an affair with Assia Wevill (aged 35), a married woman who rented their London flat; Sylvia was living with their children (a 2-year-old daughter & a 9-month-old son) at Court Green, their house in Devon; WS Merwin - was their daughter's godfather, but he "turned [his] back" on Sylvia after her separation with Ted, when they were actually starting to be amicable again]

[charonpole]

"He had carefully avoided her out of the natural cowardice that characterizes the stronger sex."

Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert

[charonpole]

Sylvia Plath, aged 29, in a letter to Olive Higgins Prouty, her mentor & benefactress (dated Thursday, 25 October 1962)

[charonpole]

"Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day."

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

[charonpole]

Luxury

No one tells us How hurtful hope can be. To be a dreamer, In this century? Insanity. Not talking about castles, Nor houses by the sea. I’m dreaming of being Nothing but me. To wake up every morning And have a cup of tea, While the sun warms the floor, For a moment, peacefully. Life doesn’t need to be perfect, I can handle washing a dish, If later I can take some time To sit by the fire while I read. Suddenly, it seems too much to dream, The luxury of having a hot meal, And a floor under my feet. They do their best to keep us as scrubbers, They need sweepers that can’t weep. We can’t even talk about dignity, We aren’t made for it, you and me. So hope comes as lightning, Illuminating a black sky, And for a moment it seems right, To have a life outside the white light That blinds me A day at a time.