the magic trick

a magician asks you to pick a card - any card, in fact. you do. they ask you to put the card back in the pack - anywhere in the pack, in fact. you do. they walk away. ten years later, your wife gives birth to the six of clubs. “is this your card?” the midwife asks, in a familiar voice.

Gold

This is probably one of the best posts I’ve ever seen

*male writer voice*

*male writer voice* i don’t remember her name. it’s not important. i met her at a supermarket and she went home with me because i offered to buy her cigarettes. she had amazing perky breasts. we drank cheap wine and had sex three times that night and then she told me she wanted to be a mosquito because they were free. i slept with her many times after that. but one day she stopped returning my calls and i don’t know why. that was seven years ago. on monday she got hit by a BRT and died. i saw it in the news so i went to her funeral and it made me sad. i don’t know why. i hate my father even though he pays my rent while i write poetry about masturbating in the shower

The Dictator

It is almost 2 AM,  why am I on the internet this trash garbage is too good though and I am sleepy but I absolutely must share this plot for one of my books;

"...a President accidentally makes a new law that anyone shorter than him gets executed but he accidentally makes it an amendment to the constitution so it applies to future presidents too, in the next elections there's a frenzy of people voting for the shortest president so they don't die and this is how they end up electing a 3 foot tall man named Pinwheel Patrick who goes on to become the most tyrannical dictator the world has ever seen"

Advanced court tactix.

The chapbook..."All sides of the story"

Lately my friends and I have been talking chapbooks a lot. I’ve written a lot of poetry, but I’ve never compiled a chapbook. That’s been on my mind a lot lately, and crazily enough people do ask me if I have a book out. Yes, I should do a chapbook. It’s been on my list. And now, It's done. Here's my humble attempt at a chapbook, "All sides of the story".
Enjoy. 

best feelings

i think the best feeling is when you make someone that you like a lot laugh and their face lights up and they start giggling and you’re really happy that you were able to make someone so beautiful smile so much

Queerness

I have never been able to understand people with consistent lives – people who, for example, grow up in a Catholic household and stay that way; or who in secondary school are already laying down a record on which to run for president one day. Imagine having no discarded personalities, no vestigial selves, no visible ruptures with yourself, no gulf of self-forgetfulness, nothing that requires explanation, no alien version of yourself that requires humour and accommodation. What kind of life is that?

Beginning Again

I’ve been told I am selfish. I’ve been told I’m empty and cold, noncommittal and restrained; over-ambitious, over-eager, overzealous, next-to-insane. I’ve been told I am broken, I am raw, I am wrong - I’ve been told I deserve to be alone, I don’t deserve to belong.

The truth is all of this is true, and all of it is untrue too.

I know I’m a million faces in a cloud of unease, trying to arrange into a person who feels worthy of being.

The truth is I have a messy heart; I love everything I’ve ever touched… which means for me, my heart has opened as many times as it’s bleed.
My heart has been closed in as many times as it’s freed.
My heart has chosen as many times as it’s cheat… 

My heart has broken
as many times
as it’s beat.

The truth is my truth is unruly. The truth is my hands have been unclean. The truth is I’ve become this person on purpose, by accident, by maintaining that the truth is I am ugly; by maintaining that the truth is who I am, should not be.

The truth is I’ve been steel-wool-and-lye scrubbing these open wounds of mine, hoping they’d come off like all the rot I’d been told I was; like parasites robbed of air, I thought they’d burrow to the surface and be gone, so I rubbed all my skin off in vain.

The truth is I thought I was alright.
The truth is I was completely blind.
The truth is I’ve run from who I’ve been for so long I’ve distorted who I can become. I’ve been numb to my tenderness; in my dark I’ve been alone. I let myself believe I was a curable disease, and went about making sure no one could see this sickness. I swallowed myself to appear whole.

I’ve been told I am selfish. I’ve been told I’m desperate and indifferent; unwilling and unwhole. I’ve been told these scars are proof of my weakness, that this world finds greatness in pain that is unspeaking. I’ve been told that being quiet is the way it goes.

Silence has weakened my vocal cords.
I’ve grown timid in my downturn, given up my podium to blend in. I’ve stopped writing. I’ve stopped moving.
I let it all go.

This is the place I’m coming from.
I’m beginning again.

Hallucinating Foucault

Well – there are two kinds of loneliness, aren’t there? There’s the loneliness of absolute solitude – the physical fact of living alone, working alone….This need not be painful. But there is another kind of loneliness which is terrible to endure….And that is the loneliness of seeing a different world from that of the people around you. Their lives remain remote from yours. You can see the gulf and they can’t. You live among them. They walk on earth. You walk on glass. They reassure themselves with conformity, with carefully constructed resemblances. You are masked, aware of your absolute difference.

Confessions of A Writer

Sometimes, sometimes when I find…
That my voice is so tiny, so especially paltry.
I can’t help but think how reality seems so bleak.

It seems like nothing,
Not even a spark of
Brilliance or imagination,
Could light the world.

It just seems so hopeless when every day,
We walk past one another, so much distance,
And oblivion between us all.

Our cleverness truly feels pointless when
The machines we build to bring us together,
Only pull our hearts so much further apart.

There are times that when I stand on the street,
Rain pitter-pattering everywhere around me,
I feel so empty… and so lost, so dead.

It’s then, that moment when I
Cannot find hope, or sense any vestige of humanity
Or even the faint faint beat of my heart,
That I pick up my favorite pen,
And write until the days have become black,
Write until the rivers run dark with my blood,
Until my body collapses, until…
Until all of my thoughts have run mad.

I do this so that when the words are written in ink,
They’re more than just mere diction,
They are rhythms burned into memory.

It is my purpose to ensure that they are as unforgettable
As a new found star or galaxy and as unforgettable
As the feeling of music beating in your chest.

This is because my words are more than life and imagination.
And because I write these poems for the sake of everything.

They are the stories of human-kind and of my own past.

It is ever so clear to me that
My words are not only my soul,
They are my body, and my inevitably
Fading intelligence.

And with some form of luck,
They will fill our small corner of space,
The expanse of our time on Earth.

So it would be a privilege to share
These small parts of my heart,
As maybe they will find themselves
Tucked in between
The tired lungs of us all.
And maybe they will become some message
That can bring life to this world.

At least I hope so.

It all seems so simple, but why is it so hard.

How do you ask for help when you don’t feel worthy of it?

How do you tell someone you’re hurting when you don’t want to be a bother to them?

How do you let someone in when they shut you out?

How can you try and be noticed when people make you invisible?

How do you win when your opponent cheats?

He creeps up on you and pulls you down.

No warning. No nothing.

Everything seems fine, like you’ve finally gotten the lead then all of a sudden you’re spun out and three laps behind.

How do you cure something when you don’t even know what that something is?

It makes you feel so alone.

Like you’re stranded on a desert island.

When you finally see food, water, people, things that make you happy, it is ripped away from you.

All you want is that helping hand.

Someone to lift you up, give you a hug, a kiss, show they care.

All you want is for them to never go away. But that voice in your head keeps telling you that you are not worthy of them, that you never will be.

You push people away when the thing you want most is to hold them close.

And what hurts the most? No one seems to understand.

If you want something, just ask.

If you need someone, just tell them.

If you love someone, just let them know.

It all seems so simple, and it is.

But why is it so hard.

Hakuna Matata

Hakuna Matata 

It’s means no worries…. Right?

But how can you say that?

He just found out that his dad is dead     and you tell him not to worry?

So why do people say that?

How can you tell a person to “not worry, everything will be alright” when it might not be. 

Your mom is in the hospital and might not make it. 

You were just in a car accident and might not walk again. 

You just lost your job and have no means to support yourself, or family. 

But don’t worry. 

That’s not what people want to hear.

That’s not what people need to hear. 

Why give them that false hope?

“Your mom will be fine, but don’t worry” …. And she dies. 

“You’ll never walk again, but don’t worry”

“You have no money, but don’t worry”

That’s bullshit 

Don’t tell them not to worry, give them that false hope, only to have it ripped away.

Don’t feed them the empty bumper sticker theology. 

Don’t give them meaningless care. 

Give them love. 

Give them hope. 

Show them that they are not alone. 

No. Everything will not be okay.

But that’s okay. 

It’s okay to worry. 

It’s okay to cry. 

It is okay that you are not okay. 

So I don’t buy the famous phrase “don’t worry, be happy”

I don’t buy the empty comfort words “don’t worry” 

Because sometimes you will worry 

Sometimes everything will not be okay. 

But when the clouds part. 

When the sun shines. 

When everything is okay once again. 

That’s when I believe that phrase. 

Don’t worry. 

I’m happy. 

When Friends Become Strangers

It’s funny, I remember the days that we walked the same path and we crossed the same roads,

But today I’m lost, crossed, intertwined as each of our souls,

Have departed and dispersed and the feelings of friendships are immersed,

Within the depths of previous thoughts and feelings we once un-earthered.

Do you remember the days where we could conversate for hours upon end?

But when I saw you today it was as if we were strangers again.

I know you have work to get done and really, so do I

But we’ve lost our connection and now I wonder why?

I’m feeling like there’s a sense of hostility building inside this serenity,

The friendship and bonds we had and have is now the enemy,

My thoughts and my previous tendencies,

Are rendezvousing with a lost entity,

But this friendship is sick and it doesn’t seem as if there’s a remedy.

I meet up with you even though a few years have gone past,

We still chat via text but it just doesn’t last,

See we chat every other week but it just hasn’t got that same buzz,

Remember we used to chat everyday, but it’s gone now, I’m lost and feeling stuck.

Words and verbs, metaphors that I used to use,

Are now not spoken as they’re overly used.

We say the same things but format our vocabulary,

This feeling sucks and I’m losing my sanity.

See we used to have the strongest of bonds that didn’t match anything else,

You might of saw it differently but really that’s how I felt.

I guess the reason we become so distant is because we began to grow up,

That was the fact we parted and the buzz fell into the rough.

You gained new friends and I’m not mad at that,

I’m just glad you’re enjoying life and I can deal with that.

But is it wrong I want my friend back, even though we’ve both changed?

Is it strange that things deep down just aren’t feeling the same?

It’s funny as we walk the same paths where we once laughed,

But all we do now is smile and walk graciously past.

The connection and tether of friendship just broke off and it’s blowing into the wind,

Almost as if that bonds been trashed and it’s thrown in the bin.

As I sit here and the rain stumbles upon my glass frames,

I’m imagining a life without hearing your name.

Is it odd that I speak of you so high and mighty?

Is it odd as friends I want to hold and hug you and feel so tightly?

I’m never going to stop loving you as we once were,

But the fact of the matter is it’s not as it once were.

You’ve got a boyfriend and you’re acting different trying to think that I want to get physical,

Truth is I’m just respecting you, trying re-kindling our friendship why you acting all cynical.

Don’t flirt with me and expect me not to do it back,

I wanted to chill for the day you were the one who introduced that.

I love you for who you are, deep down as a friend,

But if it’s going to be this way I think it might have to put it to an end.

You see me as someone who’s trying to flirt and wants to be something else,

Truth is I’m not, I’m always a friend if all else fails.

I’m always your friend don’t ever forget that,

I’m sorry for the way I acted; I hope you can respect that.

I just want to re-kindle those feelings we once had,

But if you want to call it a day I won’t get mad.

Take two, there is too much blood

Sometimes, I have moments where my mind is reeling with negativity. You see, my depression has a way of making me believe things I know to be false. I scream at myself “That’s not true. Why would you think that?” and even still they become my reality. So I curl up in a ball and hold my head and try to stop the bleeding as my heart continues beating violently, trying to escape the chest that it’s trapped in because the emotions it feels are too strong. There is too much blood.
I take two minutes, and then its clear. I realize it was never blood, just tears. Never truth, just fear. And I can breathe again.
And then I have days when fear becomes truth. I’m scared to leave my room because then I have to try to pretend that those moments never happened. You see, all my depression wants is to be noticed. It strips me of my smile so that people will ask “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” No. Nothing happened and that’s the worst part. My life was fine until one day it wasn’t and now I forget what it feels like to be happy. I can’t be around people. And so I stay in bed and instead think about how much I miss my friends and their company but its out of reach because they don’t talk to me anymore. I am so alone.
I take two hours, and then it comes to me. I am only alone because I chose to be. And so I call my best friend and she makes me laugh, reminds me I am loved. And I can walk out the door. 
But then there are the nights when I really am alone. My best friend doesn’t pick up the phone and I am forced to confront that these problems are my own. You see, my depression is not just a part of me, it is all of me. I tell people “This is not me. This is not the person I am” but that is the biggest lie of all. I am forced to avoid my reflection because I am nothing but my depression filling an empty shell that can’t satisfy its own needs and has no interest to because when it looks in the mirror it only sees the object of its despair. What is wrong with me?
I take two days, and then two months, and then two years and I find the answer. I have an illness that is solely built on flaws I can’t fix. And so I look in the mirror and convince myself the flaws don’t exist. And for a second I can feel beautiful again. 
But even still, everyday I take two pills because you see, my depression is so stubborn it will take two lifetimes to leave. And so I still have those moments, those days and those nights and they have blurred so close together I have no reason left to fight. They are my life. And I’m tired. I can’t clean it up in my own because there is too much blood. 
Because no one understands there is something is wrong with me.
I am so alone. 
And there is too much blood.

Crushes

A crush is a nice thing to have

It makes you feel nice

Loved

Cared about

Thought about

And so on

But when you see a lot of people crushing on each other

And you’re the only one without a crush

It makes you feel sad

But sometimes you might feel happy you don’t have a crush and somebody doesn’t have a crush on you

But deep down inside

Your slowly dying of loneliness

You’re happy because you don’t want to get hurt

But you would actually risk anything to be loved

I know how you feel

I was vulnerable to the heart breaking

And I got it broken

Into tiny pieces

I don’t go for it no more because crushing is just a waste of time

But for people who love “love” thinks it’s everything and will do anything to try and find their soulmate

And when they find that person they live happily ever after

But some don’t

Some die from it

Some suffer depression

I almost did

But I never gave up

I searched and searched

But no luck

So I’m giving up on it

Why bothering keep going when there’s nobody to love you

I just sit here…

On my bed…

And cry myself to sleep…

Knowing… that nobody likes me…

Depression vs. Anxiety

At one moment, your depression is telling you that you don't care what happens. Then the next moment, your anxiety is screaming and clawing at you to do something. Having depression and anxiety is a constant war inside of yourself. Though, there are no winners.

Damn!!!

A true gentleman.

I'll tell you what i see

you have only
seen yourself
two times

taking a picture
and looking at the
image and staring
in the mirror and
looking at your
reflection

you don’t get to see
the way your eyes
light up when you talk
about something
you love

and you can never
see how beautiful
you look when you
really smile

it’s really is kinda
sad that never
actually seen yourself

but I can promise you
I will be here everyday
to tell you what i see

Tips That Can Save Your Kid’s Life.

THIS IS IMPORTANT 

My friend Prince Shawn shared this with us and i found it necessary to share with you guys too.

"When I was a child, from the time I was about four and could understand things, my mom told me and my brother that we should have a secret word. That way, if we were ever in trouble or felt unsafe and we didn’t want the people around us to know we needed her to come get us, we could let her know. So she let us pick the word and my brother and I chose the phrase “peanut butter cups.” (I’m happy to share the phrase now since both my brother and I are adults now). 

I used the phrase twice in my life. Once, I was at a friends house when I eight years old. Her dad got really drunk and was throwing things against the wall. I was really scared and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself on the phone when I called my mom to come get me because I didn’t know if he would get more violent if I asked her to come get me. So I called her and was calm and after a couple minutes I asked “Hey mommy, did you get me those peanut butter cups from the store?” And she said “I’ll be right there.” And she came and got me within minutes. 

Second, I was a teenager spending the night at a friends house. Her brother and dad were drinking and they started talking about things that made me uncomfortable - ie: what they liked to do to women. My friend didn’t seem perturbed and said that was normal for them and that I shouldn’t worry. But I was worried because they were really drunk and I was 15 and the only ‘woman’ around that wasn’t related to them. I went in my friends room, told her I needed to call my mom and say goodnight. Before I hung up with her I asked “Next time we go to the store, can we get some peanut butters cups? I’ve been craving them.” And she came and got me, just like that. 

Two incidents, one as a young child, one years later as a teen. Don’t discredit this stuff, it fucking works. My brother used it a few times too. Let your child pick the word and no never, ever, ever, ever get mad at them for using it no matter what it is. "

Just for Laughs... (Ethical Dilemma)

anxiety

me: damn, anxiety is really fucking my life up

Person Who Does Not Have Anxiety: STOP BEING ANXIOUS, YOUR LIFE WILL BE SO MUCH EASIER :-) JUST DO WHAT YOU WANT IN LIFE, DON’T LET A SILLY THING LIKE ANXIETY STOP YOU!!

me: wow, i owe my life to you i am cured

little things that make me fall for people

1. having a nickname for me (not necessarily a mushy romantic one) 
2. using my name in conversation 
3. complimenting something I’m not super fond of about myself 
4. sending me pictures of stuff that reminds you of me 
5. listening to my music
6. recommending music to me
7. picking up little phrases I use and starting to use them 

A 5 Minute Management Course

Lesson 1:

A priest offered a Nun a lift. She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg. The priest nearly had an accident. After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg. The nun said, ‘Father, remember Psalm 129?’ The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, ‘Father, remember Psalm 129?’ The priest apologised ‘Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.’ Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way. On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129. It said, ‘Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.’ 

Moral of the story: If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.


Lesson 2: 

A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp. They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says, ‘I’ll give each of you just one wish.’ ‘Me first! Me first!’ says the admin clerk ‘I want to be in the Bahamas , driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.’ Puff! She’s gone. ‘Me next! Me next!’ says the sales rep. ‘I want to be in Hawaii , relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas and the love of my life.’ Puff! He’s gone. ‘OK, you’re up,’ the Genie says to the manager. The manager says, ‘I want those two back in the office after lunch’ 

Moral of the story: Always let your boss have the first say.


Lesson 3: 

A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower, when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob , the next-door neighbor.. Before she says a word, Bob says, ‘I’ll give you $800 to drop that towel.’ After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob , after a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 and leaves. The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, ‘Who was that?’ ‘It was Bob the next door neighbor,’ she replies. ‘Great,’ the husband says, ‘did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?’ 


Moral of the story: If you share critical information pertaining to credit and risk with your shareholders in time, you may be in a position to prevent avoidable exposure.


Lesson 4: 

An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing. A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, ‘Can I also sit like you and do nothing?’ The eagle answered: ‘Sure, why not.’ So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested. All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it. 


Moral of the story: To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.


Lesson 5:

 A turkey was chatting with a bull. ‘I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree’ sighed the turkey, ‘but I haven’t got the energy.’ ‘Well, why don’t you nibble on some of my droppings?’ replied the bull. They’re packed with nutrients..’ The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree. The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch. Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at t he top of the tree. He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree. 

Moral of the story: Bull Shit might get you to the top, but it won’t keep you there.

Lesson 6: 

A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field. While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him. As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realise how warm he was. The dung was actually thawing him out! He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate. Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him. 

Morals of the story: 

1.  Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy. 

2.  Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend. 

3.  And when you’re in deep shit, it’s best to keep your mouth shut!

THUS ENDS THE FIVE MINUTE MANAGEMENT COURSE