majic's journal

I'd like to sing or write a heartfelt song with conviction and feeling. However GOD did not grace me with a singers voice. Oh how I wish he did. I'd sing notes that would make people cry. These notes would be sad and happy and full of meaning. And quite frankly it would be so magnificent and brilliant and an escape worthy of gold and diamonds and candlelight. I'd honor this with dedication and devotion which could be known only by my creator and I. Oh how the clouds dissolve in my mind. Their white puffy feeling and emotion drown a slow death in the wake of my existance.

Everyday I have this monkey on my back called self doubt. I shake violently to rid myself of this plague and it sits there with it's claws buried inside my flesh. I'm tired. I'm sick and tired of this disease of my mind that is all consuming. What must I do to travel into the land of success?

No matter how much I read or learn I never get any better at anything, it's a worthless journey into a black world. I could sit for years and read and exercise and never get any better than before I started.

Where oh where is the key to success? Where is the door? Fuck where is the building or city that success dwells? This brain of mine is not a sponge, it's a fucking rock and I'm trying to soak information into it but it just beads off and falls to the floor below.

I'll sit here contently trying to turn my rock into a sponge by some arcane process of alchemy. I'll sit here and try to teach this rock a trick or two. I'll sit here and dwell in the pity that is my own shit. For one day I'll kill this GOD forsaken monkey that is burying his goddamn claws into my back. Self doubt is my enemy and my life mission is to kill it and throw it away.

A while back lotus asked me to write a poem about what it is like to be a jump out of an airplane while in flight. So today I have written a little free verse poem to capture at least a little bit of what it's like. I've just started dabbling in free verse and I've not yet caught the hang of it. If it's hard to follow I'm sorry. I'm learning each time I venture into another writing.

Twelve hundred and fifty feet
into the air I go
I'm trapped inside
the belly of the beast
I wait for the commands
and I stand up and hook
myself to the umbilical cord
which holds my life today
moments pass but time seems
to stand forever still
I wait poised to walk
out into the reality which
is in front of me
as the command is said
and as this beast is hovered
over the area of my birth
I jump and throw myself
into the wind
and I pray oh GOD do I pray
that my parachute of life
will open and guide
me safely down
so that I can make a soft
landing on mother earth
below. GOD it's a rush
from a place I cannot
describe.

A poem about our path in life. How different would life be if you could travel down a path that was not meant for you?

life is but a path
between another
and side by side
a place we can never know

how different
would my life become
how different
would I be
how quickly could I forget
what yesterday
I used to be?

This post was edited by majic on Feb 05, 2004.

A tangent in thought has led me down a road that goes something like this...

I sit here urging to write,
I sit here humble in my plight,
I think about the wind outside -
and of the freezy cold,
and the warmth of my mind,
't is humbling in it's mold.

these rooms are empty -
it would seem,
with cobwebs strown around,
they give me the feeling -
that noone has listened -
to a bloody sound,
of the words in which I write,
of the thoughts I have tonight.

Well today I fell in love with litkicks.com and after a few hours on the site it all of a sudden went down and is not reachable anymore. I'm not sure what happened but I found alot of ideas to write about from that website today. While searching google a few hours ago I found another site which I could grab ideas from. This poem is a result of some sort of inspirational high that climaxed about two hours ago.

It's about a special place that resides deep inside my mind. I'd happily live there with my family for eternity!

empty rooms they glisten,
in the corners of my mind,
to each in full asunder,
with happiness in kind,
I'd make a place for sofa's,
or maybe a rocking chair,
and a little table,
with a lace cloth to spare,
I'd buff the wooden floors,
until my hearts delight,
and whistle contently as I did,
until the edge of night,
I'd have a fireplace in every room,
to light my life in full,
and cast a shadow upon my wall,
to which I could sit and mull,
I'd place a rug in every room,
and in every hall,
and dot the bland with paintings,
upon every wall,
I'd make a place for porcelain,
and a vase or two,
and place a sculpture here and there,
to add a special flair,
next I'd add my children,
and sit them to and fro,
and lavish them in gifts,
and love I'd surely show,
then I'd make a special place,
for my wife to be,
then I'd adorn her with riches,
to let her mind be free,
we'd call this place our home,
and live here eternally,
and laugh and joke,
and live our life,
in splendor and harmony.