The Separation of Friends

“A perverse man spreads strife, And a slanderer 
separates intimate friends.”  Proverbs 16:28

“It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them.”  Confucius

My mind’s intrigued with fickle people concerned only with the direction of the winds of gossip. They blow this way and that, regardless of the benefit given by myself. I’m wary of this crowd, of the hearty followers, of the “humble” acquaintances in my life, for those by my side in friendship today are at my throat, without hesitation, tomorrow. All that’s required for this shift from friend to foe is discomfort in their lives. Whether financial, physical, or social unrest, it gives them impetus to turn the trust into a sword and cut without mercy. “He deserves it because….” – this is the mantra that sears their conscience.

They’re masters in this game, the game of turning the opinions of those around me to their benefit. It’s no disgrace this art of war, but it bears repeating that those closest to me, those I help the most, will grow to hate me, if for no other reason than I have and they have not. Despising that they asked for my help, or owe me something, or just hate that I excel in some way, they desire to quench their envy and jealousy by disposing the one to whom they are so envious or indebted. These master players will be burned by their own hand and it won’t be long after starting many fires that they’ll make a mistake and corner themselves with the flames. As for me, I learn to encourage myself, and with this one thing I’ll rise above the petty crowd – after all the hate shown towards me, I’ll still be good to people and serve my friends and leaders with undying loyalty.

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Tug O War – Playing Games With Anger

“If you are losing a tug-of-war with a tiger, give him the rope before he gets to your arm. You can always buy a new rope.” Gunther, Max

“The best fighter is never angry.” ― Lao Tzu

I grabbed the knotted cloth with my hand, hung on tight and shook it in front on my ever willing mutt, Thor. He responded by latching on and shaking it so vigorously I nearly lost hold. I teased him for a moment, and then used him for a floor mop because despite my best efforts, he wouldn’t let go. This made me laugh and smile, and even video tape him for a YouTube post. Millions have done the same thing, making the rage of the hunt and nurture of the kill a funny moment, inspiring it and laughing only because they controlled that instinct. That’s how it is with my anger.

Those who are comfortable with it, shake the rope, knowing they’re in control. It took me a long time, with my temper flaring at every waved knotted circumstance, to understand this response. What I did in these conflicts was reflect the built up anger in me. After many years of testing and fighting every challenge, it is enough. I quit. I’m tired of my anger being used against me. I’m holding back my anger, and resisting the challenges, leaving the players scratching their head, “Your not behaving like you should, why aren’t you pulling back?” Not every fight needs fighting and not every challenge needs answering. So, that little rope your waving, the rope of conflict, jealousy, anger, or whatever it is you choose to challenge me with, keep it, I’m not participating in your game. I’m aware that to control myself is my biggest challenge and to live in peace, following peace, is the biggest advantage.

Angel, Part 12 – A Glimmer of Betrayal

We decided to meet again at a mutual friends house, and soon drowned our past in bottles of liquor, as was our custom. The party gave us enough publicity to dial in our emotions and be civil, at least for a moment. The night went smoothly, and our intoxication soon led to giggling and playing grab-ass for a couple of hours. The self-induced heaven I maintained was an amazing effort on my behalf, emotions in check, brain on hold. Of course, the sexual tension that always surrounded my Angel and I kept me going, “Hell”, I thought, “if nothing else I’m gonna get laid”. That seemed to get me through many nights with her, and, if I sorted them out then, I’d see what really was wrong with us. It’s entirely possible to live in my head, not checking the facts or figures or any reality whatsoever. But so goes this dance and regardless of logic and pain, which never added up to a positive, the door shut and in the darkness, our hands found each other. I breathed her in great gasping breaths, like a drowning man, breaking the surface a moment before unconsciousness. My hands ripped her shirt near off, her nails left tiny blood lines of passions anger. Our bodies moved so smoothly, wet with perspiration, sexual excitement, and hunger. As we satisfied our lusts with our fingers, our mouths, every part of our body became a playground, things that some considered taboo, seemed to possess us. Closing my eyes to the music, swaying with her sounds, wet and sighing sounds of desperation and passion. The light from the new day showed the results of our play. Clothes were everywhere, the mattresses separated and laid crosswise displaying the crumpled sheets and suggestive pillows and silken ties. That’s when I saw it, as she rode on top, driving herself on me with hard strokes of still drunk love, a glint swung from her neck, a glimmer of gold, a spark of diamond dancing just above my face. I’m sure she forgot she was wearing it, a symbol of her betrayal to me, a sign of success for her, his necklace pronouncing a conquest of my Angel. Yanked from passion, I couldn’t stop, I really couldn’t move, hypnotized by her sex, and violated by her betrayal. Oh dear God, my heart is stopping, I can bear no more, my mind drove itself to these newest depths of darkened morose pure and unadulterated pain. She saw it on my face, my tightened jaw, not from an orgasm, but, and she knew it quick, from that necklace. I could barely breathe, my throat dryly gasped out, “Why? Why would you wear that here with me?” But that was my Angel, that is who she is, no thoughts of anyone but her, no understanding of the repercussions of her curiosities. I was the fool. I made this whole thing up in my mind, I created the “us” from my own fantasies. She merely rode the ride, the ups and downs being a thrill of entertainment and nothing more. My reality, merely a fantasy, an old man wrapped in the make up and pretty things of her young world.

The End


Angel, Part 11 – The Fornication of Love

silvereyedgirl
I stayed away for more than a few days, days of torment made longer by the endless churning of thoughts and questions. I kept my phone on me all the time, slept with it near my head, staring at the black form until sleep overtook my reluctant eyes and mind. Every day or two, my waiting was granted a teasing reprieve, her text would come through with the ring I had set for only her, electronic signals that love was alive in me, but was it love? I didn’t really care by this point, in the pain, truth and lies fucked each other, perhaps like we did, and in an orgasmic cloud, a fertile ground for these games, love twisted with deformities of lust. The games turned quickly to survival, her bullets of jealousy, desire, and my insatiable desire for her ripped through me with startling accuracy. I sat in an almost trance-like state, even while I tried to work there was a shock, a numbness that was only shattered by her call or the stabs of jealousy that poked at my cavity of care and concern for her. I was helpless. Strong, intelligent, and utterly helpless before my Angel. No other force on earth could have brought me to my knees as quick as her magic body and moist mouth. No choices were left for me, I had to see her, I would see her. I could swallow my pain and calm my shattered mind, we could make it work. She really didn’t mean it, she was young and had been hurt before. There’s no way that she really meant to do this, right? I mean she really had to love me, it was an anomaly, a freak of nature that she let it go this far, I mean no one could be so twisted. I consoled myself into my own fragile and crazed comfort, I’d forgive her. I’d treat her better, be there more, make more money, put myself in harms way for her. Yes, that’s how I’d show her that it’s ok. I still wanted her, more than ever it seemed. The next call would bring us together again. Ahh, sweet relief as I gathered the entrails of my dreams and stuffed them back into this amazing thing I had with my Angel. Only, the tears kept coming, unexpectedly creeping up and running down my cheek as I swallowed hard with the acceptance of this new Angel. It probably was my fault anyway. 

Angel, Part 10 – The Hunt

billiefuckingpiper

I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.

Angel, Part 10 – The Hunt

billiefuckingpiper

I gathered the leftovers of my senses and with a hollow aching knot deep in my gut, stronger than any hunger, I went to edges of sanity and looked over. Putting all my tools in the trunk of the car and covering them with a tear-stained blanket, I drove slowly in the early morning, my only company were the frogs and katydid’s of the country, and softly falling rain. Parking a mile away, off the road and hidden from curious eyes, I crept just close enough to her house to see the driveway and laying down in the wet grass, stared at her front door until my eyes ached and head pounded with concentration. Who I should kill first? Imaginations of what was going on between them were thumbscrews of jealousy that tightened around my throat in an unflinching grip. Many questions; some of her, some of me, some of him, were just empty mirrors that reflected a violence behind my eyes. The rain was gentle, the pain was not, both soaking me, both making me cold. There I laid for hours, till the early light of day peeked over the trees. I grinned, even the sun shuddered at what was going to happen. Someone must have told her I knew because they never showed. Walking back to my car and tears came again at what I was becoming. Following my Angel cost me everything, I lost my way and lost my identity. What was I doing? The unknown circumstances and crazy love drove me mercilessly, and loves evil sibling, Jealousy, took me farther than I ever thought possible. I shook off the channeled spirits of murder from my soul, thanking God, not for lack of courage, but for lack of opportunity. My imaginations stoked the fires of wicked intentions, but now I’m confused, for love had calmed me enough to lust for her again. I didn’t care if she slept with them, as long as I could hold her and act out my fantasies on her, fucking her like they did. This is love, this is us, this is hell.

The Specter Of Love

“The moment there is suspicion about a person’s motives, everything he does becomes tainted.”― Mahatma Gandhi

Be advised that I take artistic license in the expressions and creations I present in my posts. Forewarned is forearmed, proceed at your own risk. 

Freakingnews

“Listening for the chirp, the space sounds of my phone
Everything stops when it rings,
My whole body tense, waiting for the vibration of her call
Everything stops when I wait for her
Early morning when it rings, I open my eyes
Everything stops when I wake to her
A text, proclaiming her rejection of me
Everything stops when I understand
She is with my friend, he is fucking her
Everything stops when I kill”
Everything Stops,  D.M.W. Sager

I take a deep breath. Jealousy. A cruel and unrelenting task master, holding me hostage, threatening my lover with violence. How quickly love turns to anger and hate. How quick the one you love can turn and violate you. Love excels at changing both itself and others. I watch as I leave all I know about myself and life; all my beliefs fall to the wayside as I follow hard after what I “love”. I watch my identity crumble in my pursuit, it consumes me. There’s no escape from its hold, the arms of another fan the flames into white hot tongues of searing pain. I compromise my safety, stepping into the line of fire, nothing will prevent me from protecting my love. It’s not a person that I protect, it’s my feelings. When I find that it’s my love that I follow, not her, conviction binds me. Love is separate in this deranged sense. Love becomes a living entity in me, demanding I make room for it, controlling my actions and thoughts. Love must be constrained by other rules to keep it in check and keep it pure. I must rise above it. Love, pure good and pure evil. It disguises itself, hiding among other feelings and manifesting in the strangest of ways. The vilest thoughts arise out of “love”. Beware of love uncontrolled, it’ll easily lead to destruction, agony, and death. Motives that should be pure, become tainted, then, suddenly, drastically, everything stops.
“Do you know what its like to lie in wait for someone? To settle yourself in the cold drizzle of winter, controlling the shivers, quiet, the gun by your side? Eyes strained to see movement in the blackness, heart pumping from adrenalin of the chase. Do you know what it’s like to wait to kill the one you love?” – The Specter Of Love
Also published in Broowaha Magazine

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11 Things Observed In The Betrayal Of My Friend

“It was a mistake,” you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.” ― David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary 
“He, who had done more than any human being to draw her out of the caves of her secret, folded life, now threw her down into deeper recesses of fear and doubt. The fall was greater than she had ever known, because she had ventured so far into emotion and had abandoned herself to it.”
Anaïs Nin 

Observing these things operating occasionally in my relationships is normal. However, if I see a few things happening all the time, and especially if I make excuses for the violation of these principles, it is cause for great concern. Be wise my friends…

  1. My friend will inflict emotional and/or physical pain on me, hitting me violently or insulting me. They may or may not apologize, and excuse their behavior by saying it was only a joke or they were drunk. I know something is wrong and I must pay attention to the physical interactions of my friends. Don’t ignore the little things.
  2. The friend will never have a bad thing to say to my face. I know that I am not perfect so if my friend is always eager to give praise and never criticism, it offers a cover for subterfuge.
  3. The friend will use my resources with abandon. Having no concern over the economy of my money and supplies they will waste and spend mine without a thought.
  4. Strategic placement of needs. It seems the friend is always short on resources every time I’m around them. They are in “need” all the time and in short order they will let me know that “need”, subtly mentioning it and moving on.
  5. When my friend has opportunity to defend me, such as in gossip about me, they will not, especially when it means putting themselves in harm’s way.
  6. I make excuses for my friend’s behavior. As soon as I start this I begin a selfdeception that allows them unlimited access to ruin me. Don’t ignore what they did, it shows who they are.
  7. My friend “eyeball’s” my belongings and/or my girl. Noticing it once is normal, but to keep mentioning it and/or to be caught looking at it often is a danger sign.
  8. I do nice things for them all the time. There is a limit, if I keep on with my provision it will breed an attitude of bitterness and envy as they regret that they “asked” me, “needed” me, or had to pretend so.
  9. Their attitude is flippant with me. They pass my needs on casually and my pain is treated lightly.
  10. They do things for me that they never do normally. This is setting the bait. Their behavior contradicts their normal course. They usually precede their actions with, “I don’t normally do this….” or “I shouldn’t do this”. In other words I’m going to OWE them something, whether it’s stated plainly or not, farther down the road it will be used against me.
  11. I find myself obligated by their courses of action, especially obligated to do what violates my conscience. When I feel obligated and they don’t, they can pull me into their deception, while keeping their distance. 
    We will do well to notice these things and take into account that not all are friends that make our acquaintance and some delight to do harm and see us fall.

Through the Mist – Finding a way through opinions

“At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.” 

 

For times and times of multiplied times, I tip-toe through the water colored grays and whites of opinions fog, misty coverings over the truest paths. Stepping off my way, slipping on changing whims of irrelevant interventions, I draw blood, bleeding discouragement, marking my errant route. Sitting on rocks of stubborn pride, I bind the wounds of disillusionment. I sought a torch of brilliant revelation to guide me as the north star, with steady light, steady direction, and comfort in a sure way. What will I use as fuel for this flame that licks the mist from the air? My spirit, deeper than the mind, deeper than the soul, found in the stillness of my chamber, provides urns of truth that ignite my blaze of illumination. Confidently waving my baton of bright dancing tongues, plainly the path stands clear. Excuse my hasty advance past you idle players of hate and jealousy, I am committed to the summit of my life. See my flame high on this mountain, follow me you lost and wandering souls, we will climb above the clouds.

Saltwater of Lust

“I was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving.” 
 – Lili St. Crow, Jealousy
Syrkell
The following is a fictional account, don’t get all worked up over it…

Yeah, I paid you for your services, what you thought was sex. Yeah, you used all my drugs, trashed my house, and spent my money. You lay down next to me, and to your surprise, I ask, “Can you just hold me”. You left within a minute, surprised at the intimacy I required. I can get sex without paying for it, but can I get you to just hold me? No amount of money or drugs can get you to just lay here for hours, caressing me, holding me, giving me affection, helping me to feel like I’m someone special. You leave me here, alone, me and my high. I can never get high enough, drunk enough, to lose this feeling of rejection and abandonment. I need to have a woman’s touch, that thing which you hold from me, your affections. Now I must go on, with wildness fucking every woman I can get my hands on, trying in vain to quench this thirst with the salt water of lust. What a fucked up game this is, a fucked up hand I’ve been dealt, to need something that I can never get on my own, to need you. I suppose I can blame it on anything I wish, but in the end, can you just hold me?