CTPhoenix's journal

TO THE READER: This is a very serious work. If you read this, let it be with a pure intent and as much moral discipline as you can take for yourself. This has been on my mind for some time. I hope it is enjoyable, but please do NOT abandon this in your own minds. I would wish for everyone in NAO to read this. It is a piece that has taken months of preparation and thought. Find it in your heart to accept this, and I have found a space to create it.

The Drum of Time

Solid steel
skins of beasts
this is not a drum.

It's in our minds
these inhibitions
it's so dreadful
so inevitable...

Beat, beat, beat
history repeat
looking ahead, weeping behind
human nature, moral nature,
drummer's time... unwind.
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I fear that this poem will be left for naught if it dos not have a critical analysis. Most poetry left here is unchecked, unbalanced, and poorly written. I would like to give an example as to what poetry should be.

Note: this is NOT saying that people write disposable poetry. It is just that most of it is so vague that it is displayed in high favor because people tend to bend the poetry around personal circumstance. I believe that poetry is most beautiful when it expands our minds and brings us to another reality than what we would percieve.

Here I will explain what I meant.

Solid steel - Represents ideology. Religion. The things that people have brought to their own attention. Things that loving philosophers have so desperately tried to convey, and lovers have fought to live. Those things that we imagine in our minds, of all beliefs. In this world, we have billioins of living creatures, all with their own perceptions of what life is, and what it should be.

skins of beasts - This represents us. As people. As the flesh we are. I put this on a seperate line to show that our thoughts and our selves are very different. Imagine a world where all you see is what we do. Without our causes, without our mental battles. We are beasts. We act so violently. We show the same inate actions as the animals we work to supercede. Imagine it without motive. It is all so instinctive.

This is not a drum. - This is a simple line. To tie in the ones before. It would be easy to simply be swept away in "emotion" (confusion) and just leave it be. But it just makes you think of the imagery. Think of everything humanity has meant, in all of our impefections and history. In all of our downfalls and witnesses... And think of a drum. So constant, so beautiful... It can only express constance. What in humanity is constance? ... You can see it. In this first verse, the rest of the story can fully develop on a stage just created.

It's in our minds - Our imaginations. This world that we have created for ourselves. So entirely dependent on them. Our own constance is found in what we deem to be real. This world. Everyone has accepted that this world is real. All of it has become exactly what our nature reflects. What our minds will portray...

these inhibitions - this line comes in two parts. <These> emphasizes that constant immediate attention this has on us. This mental stasis; this self-created paradox that we refuse to give up. and the word <inhibitions> is a curious thing to put in... but it makes sense when you imagine to yourself what we are truly doing here. What we are wasting. It leaves so hanging for an explanation for what is holding us back. What exactly is humanly condemnable about our own species. What we have been wasting...

so dreadful - self explanatory. But it is necessary to show the hatred. It makes you want to scream "Are you blind?!?" You want people to see that we are wasting so much that could be precious and beautiful, all for the said inhibition.

so inevitable - think of the word inevitable. Not evitable. Entirely unavoidable, because the evidence is simply not there. The only backing for the wasteful nature of humanity is our own evidence that we make. It's in our words, our minds... It is in this very poem. It is inevitable. It is here, at the end of this verse, that you find yourself asking about what the drum should be. That the truth is. What this poem was created for.

Beat, beat, beat - Three knocks of a drum. The true drum. That drum that we do not have the permission to recognise. It is in the simplicity of three beats that you can see that everything we have been, are, and will bee are completely nothing but a beat of this drum. Three beats, three tenses. Two directions and one stasis. But all represented as a beat. To show that in all of the significance of all three, we truly are nothing...

history repeat - reinforcement of the previous line. Our own experiences and self-proclaimed abilities are all really one in significance to what really matters. This is NOT meant to mean that our past actions will be the same as our future ones. Rather, the simple nature of these actions are bound because we are so caught in our own minds. So invariably, that the only thing to stop it is to stop the only thing that we have deemed to make us human.

looking ahead, weeping behind - The focus now moves from the drum (still left unexplained as to what it symbolizes) to us as people. This is shown when it explains that we are looking. Well, now it sounds so ridiculous that we are "looking" anywhere. This is best characterized by the second part; weeping behind. This goal that we as a species have always looked for improvent. Expounding on those principles we hold so dear to ourselves. Finding some conclusion, and yet looking back at our progress with such distain... Only to show that we have made no progress at all. Yet we still look ahead... hoping for something that time may never reveal to us. Purpose.

human nature, moral nature, - these two things belong on the same line because they explain the same thing. It shows that we are analogous to those things that we have bound to ourselves as good our bad. Right or wrong. This line is only meant to bring to the stack of attention our characteristics, rather than our direction. Now we move in for the kill... linking ourselves with this ideal drum. This drum of fate. What is it about our present state that is shown so different from prefection?

drummer's time... unwind. This line has brought me tears. I have found that it say so many interpretations... It is here that the drum is shown to be time. The drummer is representing the only this that is constant. The only thing that is shown to be worthy of such a drum. Nothing. They work so perfectly together. Time is a measurement of energy an the changes that are made in the universe. So all changes that are brought about are a pain to the concept of time. They are all users and abusers. They all take away the thing is wants for itself. Survival. It's own personality. It's own self. It must fend for itself as an entity. The only thing that it can accept is not change at all. Nothing in any sense. A place for time to expand itself and love again. To be free. It is in a willing host... this drummer... that time will be complete again. The second part of this line represents this. That time must find itself to become denatured... to free itself of any responsibility and live in nothingness.

This poem is one of the most dire anguish I can imagine. It is a poem about how all of mass and energy and everything that we are - everything that could possibly be - is painful to the only thing that is real. Nothingness. I chose for time to become a drum to show that it is a measurement. A medium. But like our lives are a medium in which our fanciful ideas come to be, time would wish so have nothing. It would wish for a host of nothing, like we wish for a host like time. Time is shown here in the last line of the poem to be somethnig that all of us are. Something that wishes to be it's own. But something it could never do without nothing. Like we could never be anything without time. Just a present stasis that is contrdictory to our own existence.

This poem is meant to show that whatever truth may be... whatever science or religion may prove to be true or false... They are all bound by the rules of existence. God is something, therefore he does not belong to the drummer. Science is something as well. Anything that we can imagine is a terrible entity that it abusing time as a host. The final conclusion of this poem is that to truly be perfect, we must not exist. An idea faintly recognised throughout time. It is also a pity to time. That everything we are, everything that could be... is all painful to something. This drum.

I hope that this can be seen as true poetry. I hope that those who read this will recognise the beauty and time that went into this. Thank you for reading. Thank you for understanding. Thank you... for seeing.

This post took a long time. Everything that is sacred to me in regards to love has been condensed into this post. I believe that there are answers in this post. But please... DO NOT abandon this post. It is one man's soul. PLEASE... read it and recognize what has been written.

I have yet to fail. And the thought of failure is so desperately imbedded into my fears that rather than imagine the consequences of failure, I will sacrifice the nights and days working for this perfection. I know my faults, but on paper... flawless.

After school. You walk onto the track with your legs shaking. Who knows what the workout could be? But the coach is furious. You're best simply isn't enough. Don't you want State? Of course you do. And if you weren't born for it, you'll train for it. Run a quarter mile in 70 seconds and meet me back here. And again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Don't stop. I'll tell you when to stop. That wasn't under seventy! Now you are behind. Twenty intervals. Your whole body is crying for relief. More! Push harder! If you don't make it, you'll do this all night! You fall over and start to cry. But you can't stop. They won't let you stop. Not until you're perfect.

Tears are streaming down your face. It is 5:00 in the morning. The tears only blur the vision of your History book as you still haven't finished. A pattern you have followed every night for... how long? You know what tomorrow night brings. Time to go. But your body has had it! Is there no relief?

Why? In the car to school. You have to wonder. Why have I chosen a life of misery? What do I want? You look around for relief. Parents, friends, death. Anything. Can anyone see? Why can't it leave me?

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I never knew how this would end. But one night, with friends for the first time in a long time, I was happy. I needed them so much. Out for ice cream, out to the park... But my eye was always on one girl. Koseli. Her words have saved me so many times. I loved her smile, her positivity... I loved her so much... and she never knew. But her friends did. When the fun ended... everyone went home but her and I. We both had some things we needed to say. We both have hid for so long. But sitting there in the park - silence - the swings are still. But we sit in complete fear. It is dark except the towering lamps. The cold came over us so subtly. But it was then that I knew my life would change forever.

She asked me if I had something to say. I told her how the day went... what was happening. She knew. She was there for every interval. Every late night. She knew. But I knew that I had to tell her how I felt about her. I told her that she has been the one thing that has kept me alive. How just a simple friendship was a blessing from God. I told her that I needed to hear her and would linger on the phone after we would talk. I told her that I kept her memory close to me in everything I did. I told her I loved her.

By this point, I was expecting nothing. I was thoroughly convinced that my life was over. I just wanted to let myself leave in honesty. But there was no end. Was held each other for so long. She was paralyzed. We talked and smiled and loved each other that night. Time meant nothing anymore. 4:30. I was in so much trouble. I took her home in confusion, ecstasy, hurt, and concern. I got home and my parents sat me down until 6:00 telling me how much I have disappointed them. How I have let them down. We never knew you were...like that. And it was back. I was chained into my old habits within minutes. Please don't take me back! The prison of guilt... There was no greater pain. Oh, please.... don't take me back...

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Five months of apologies, confessions, nights, memories, lessons, and treasures of thought were shared. I'll never forget them. We have learned so much. But... at a time when we have learned to love each other the most... She left for college. A part of me had died. When she called, I would cry and hold the tears back so she'd never know. I would hold onto pictures, letters... So much memory. But one night...

One night... she came to my house. We were both speechless. We just ran to each others' arms. Whispers of assurance. Nothing is more sacred than physical touch.

We went to shop. We went to eat. Places that were all memories to us. Things that we would never forget. Things that were so close to us both... But there was one thing that was closer than we would ever know.

We went back to the park.

The park where lives were changed. Where I took a step into uneven waters in hopes of being held. Impossible. But it has happened. We when back to the swings laughing and crying. We both had come so far together. Our love was never stronger than that night.

We went into the parking lot and danced. Without any music but the crickets. No light but familiar towers - and the stars... We just held each other, we danced in a state of complete bliss. An innocent kiss. We knew how much we had saved ourselves for each other. A life of misery and pain... but for just one night... We were honest with each other. We loved each other. And we always have.

Was the work worth it? Was becoming someone that she could have forever worth the memories? Looking back... just maybe a week ago on that night... I have no regret. I now know my destiny. My purpose. To love her for the rest of eternity.

Teenage fallacy? Perhaps. But in regards to love, I think that I have found everything I will ever need to look for. The pain, the passion... love has become something that transcends time.

For just one night... years of pain have come to resolution. But for the rest of my life... I have found my infinite purpose.

This post was edited by CTPhoenix on Jan 31, 2005.

My face against the glass... So cold; so thick; so merciful.

Hiding me from the unholy terror just inches away
A mammon Machine - the wielded
weapon of war.

Get out of it's way or out of view
it won't spare a soul
it was designed to hate
manipulate

Man against the manmade machine.

//

Since most poetry isn't quite interpreted right... I wanted to make this poetry. Took quite some time to make it. But it is meant to be translated as the machine is representing society. The more you read into it, the more beautiful it is.

Two points for anyone who can guess what the glass is.

I listened to the ocean's dull beat on the sand for hours. I've left this world for a trance-like state of digging my toes into the sand and thinking of her. An entire universe had been revealed. What was, what is, what may be... they all became one. This train of thought was a pious motley of pain, love, and passion.

Looking for her red shirt and khakis at the fair. So innocent a wink and a blown kiss leading me on. She was teasing, but I wouldn't believe it. For one day, we laughed and loved and made silent promises to each other. Complete ecstasy.

Holding me when her mother died. My arms became beacons of trust. Her innocent eyes gazed at me searching for answers. Tears shed for none. Teaching, learning, loving... these were moments of strength in human capacity and faith in God.

Phone calls until the sun breaks into tomorrow. Believing that things will turn out. Loving her with words, needing her with heart. Missing can be there for you if you can say it right.

Holding her at the drive-in. The movie has faded from view, and now all that matters is the feeling. Just to stay there for the night... just to pretend that we never had to go home. Stopping time was easier, anyway.

An innocent kiss in the gardens. God watched from the moon and smiled with assurance. Heart racing... thinking but fighting a losing battle. Losing yourself in the feeling. Innocent passion.

Letting her slip away. Watch her leave with all of my dreams. See her destiny take her from me. Losing the one thing that I could never watch lost. A part of my life taken. Letting her slip away...

Be this love - a foolish twist of fate and the innocent sacrifice of your past... sharing a love that becomes stronger than your will to live... Following your instincts... Finding the answer to your cries from mortality... And finding an answer to your purpose in this grand state of being.

The ocean's symphony has played it's piece. I've heard it for the last time. I wake up... Look at the footprintes left... Pick up my feet, and walk towards my destiny...

This post was edited by CTPhoenix on Sep 05, 2004.