Beginning of the End

“I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring 
dirty-irish
Translucent skin showing the paths of life that will cease to flow
Blue and gray replace the young countenance and own the deterioration
Halting the movements of grace, becoming a lame gait of an ambling fall
This is the prognostication of our demise and the fate’s without escape
What’s left when the seasons change and we’re left without shelter?
The things leave and nothing’s left but an empty mind
Where are the riches spent entertaining the needs of vanities clients
The evaporation leaving only the crumbling idols built by youth
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In Defense of Addiction

“I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom.”
Edgar Allan Poe
“The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame.
He might get burned, but he’s in the game.
And once he’s in, he can’t go back, he’ll
Beat his wings ’til he burns them black…
No, The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame. . .
The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real,
‘Cause Flame and Moth got a sweetheart deal.
And nothing fuels a good flirtation,
Like Need and Anger and Desperation…
No, The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real. . . ”
Aimee Mann
An expression of wisdom from an ancient text declares anxiety in the mind of a man causes depression. From this I understand addiction‘s hold on me. My world is so complex with worries that it sickens my body. Worries about about self esteem and retirement, about wealth and sickness, about bills and responsibilities, about women and sex, about an endless list of subjects, a thousand times a minute, every waking moment in the day. However, when I’m in my addiction, I worry about nothing but it, for hours, for days, possibly for weeks and months. Imagine the rest I feel when my tormented mind, harried by anxieties and thoughts assailing me without mercy, becomes suddenly disconnected. The plug is pulled, no more crazy anxiety, only my addiction. 
This sounds like a crazed rendezvous with a forbidden lover, but like those trysts, its the lure of the taboo that brings the rush delivering me from the madness of mind plaguing my troubled soul. It’s asked of me, “How can you do those things?”, the accusation being made that I should know better. Those interrogators have no idea of the energy consuming me from the inside out. Were they to know, the question would be irrelevant. I want rest from my mind consuming itself. Be kind to those in addictions, you have no idea what they are capable of if they were not consumed with that thing they desire. What if you knew that because of an addiction, you were delivered from harm? Would you then criticize that which saved you? 
Rest assured I know that some addictions result in violence, and I in no way pretend to support that lifestyle, but if only to enlighten the non-user, the pure and undefiled soul that never craved the forbidden to the tragic end of ruining their life, and make them understand that in my case, be very thankful that my thoughts were arrested by an addictive lifestyle; for were they to come to fruition otherwise, it would be a very messy picture. Take a moment to step in another man’s shoes before you criticize an addicts lifestyle, they may not be doing the worse thing possible…there are abnormal and hugely deviant alternatives that are, shall we say, detrimental toyour health.

Burnt Bridges

“The only bad thing about burning your bridges behind you is that the world is round”

“That bridge you burn, in laughing pride walking on
Is the path that destiny forces to spawn
That one that is rejected will lead you the pawn
The day that died will be reborn atdawn.” – DMW




He laughed under the command of alcohol. With mockery his grand speech proclaimed the worthlessness of my life that he used to facilitate his riches. Needing his provision for my daily supply, I grew rebellious inside. The Boss continued his diatribe in the firelight. On my struggle he built his joy. My work, that though he taught it to me, stood alone in stark contrast to his proclamations. Joyfully he lit a match to burn the bridges and isolate me in shame. As the last timber fell in ashen dismay, the universe set in motion a turn of events that always humbles the proud. Within in months, he fell under the spell of my promotion and others saw to my advancement. The year ground on and then, in the new birth of spring, when burned things turn green again, his mistake of taking the common man for granted gave him a startling revelation. His work is now for me, and I, with humility, take his reigns and learn this, that all bridges will one day be crossed again, so be careful of the paths we leave behind. 

The Stairway to Heaven is not for sale

“In the blink of an eye wealth disappears, for it will sprout wings and fly away like an eagle. ”- Proverbs
 


I believed that an abundance of possessions would make me happy. My entourage followed me around faithfully as long as the money and parties flowed. I took security in my future by how much I could stash. During these anxious moments, I felt pressured. Pursued by the need to get more, to be more, to gather and gather until my storehouse was overflowing. The more I gained, the more I obsessed over security to protect my belongings and hold on to my little corner of the world.  I started packing guns and rigging traps. Sorry man I was, now that I had all this: money, women, “friends”, pretty things and wild times, I felt burdened with the care of a shaking empire. The weight bore heavy on me, knowing that if I skipped a beat I’d lose it all. Responsibilities put their chains on me and whipped me into submission.


The pressure slowly drove me down. Finally, in an economic suicide, I began to let all these things fall through my fingers; every moment of letting go felt like razors drawn across my soul. Left with nothing, but a hurting body, tortured by abuse and late nights; I found myself there, broke, lonely, hurting, and questioning. My prayers turned from, “protect my stuff lord”, to “thank you for this beautiful day and health”. Slowly as I turned from my selfish pursuits and let my “stuff” go, I rebuilt my life. Things are returning again, however, I hold them loosely. I’m more than my belongings and my friends. This time I’m going to be successful, without the burden of having to be a success. Let go, look for those things which are above what you can see, you’ll then have riches without sorrow.


“The blessing of the Lord makes one rich and He adds no sorrow to it.” – Proverbs 

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine

video by Wes King taken from youtube: (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fS5843K79NQ)