Recovery Flow – 1st Spoken Word

Posted on by meltingneurons

Depths – Spoken Word, Addict Recovery Flow

(1st attempt at spoken word….written version below. Please stick past the 1:00 mark as it hits a much better rhythm and pulls together everything)

Go deep.

Depth.

Because you and I have depth.

No shallow pieces of paper whipping in the wind here.

We’re fucking mountains with roots buried in lava.

Dig deep.

Through chunks of earth.

Through underground lakes.

You and I are living statues giving statements.

Cut through miles of meat.

Let out rivers of blood.

Depth.

No 2D, weak minded, single sided bullshit here.

Find the spinning core of pressurized EVERYTHING that powers our furnace.

I’m not powered by the drive for one thing.

I’m an addict.

I’m a fucking hero.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m a fanatic.

I’m an extremist.

I’m a fatalist.

I’m a romantic.

I’m passion given wings and no name.

I run on need.

I’ve been asked what makes me tick.

Why do I do it again?

Why am I so fucking sick?

Because I live on fear,

On love, on hope, on greed, on determination, on demands, on need, on want, on confusion, on chaos, on misery, on joy, on pleasure, on excess, on more.

I live on intensity.

I breathe it.

The world spits straight fire down my throat so hot that all I can beg for is a drink to put it out,

And a shot to start the burn again.

Go deep.

Find depth.

I’m not bored.

I’m scared that the moment it stops, I’ll be less interesting to myself.

That the world won’t have a reason for me to be around.

I’ll be normal.

And I don’t understand that word.

This is the only norm I know.

The unusual.

The strange.

If I didn’t have this excuse, what would I be?

What would I call myself?

What excuse could I hide behind?

How could I explain the things I’ve done?

How would I explain my failures?

What if I didn’t fail?

What if it didn’t have to be so intense it hurt?

Even if it feels so good.

Love wouldn’t have to be so intense that it overwhelmed.

Passion so hot that nothing would ever live up to it again.

Confusion so baffling I couldn’t see a road out.

Joy so large that no laughter would fill it.

Chaos so overwhelming that the world would fall to pieces.

Pleasure so satisfying that nothing would ever be enough to replace it.

Past the screaming need for everything in spades.

For each emotion to be etched into me until I’m raw.

Way, way the fuck down there.

Beneath the lowest layers of urgency.

There is peace.

There is a quiet place that I can call part of me.

Part of the landscape of my soul.

Proof that I wasn’t always an adventurer.

Once, I was calm waters welcome moonlight to bathe across me.

I was a home where the word gentle wasn’t a foreign concept.

Where there was no race for adrenaline.

And that was okay.

All I have to do is take a breath and let myself submerge far enough to find it.

Go into the dark.

Into the deep.

Into the depths.

Katrina – Lost Daughter

Posted on by meltingneurons

(background info)

Katrina is the daughter of a young lady who was essentially my counterpart – plus breasts. Owing to some poorly relayed information and a protective need following the 6-year old girl’s admittance to counseling because she thought “that good guy (me) was going to die…” – left the mom backed into a corner. I was told never to call or contact her again, though I didn’t find this out until after writing and sending this as a letter.

Kat is the girl who moves with feline grace,

A Cheshire flashing grins all over the place.

Rina is the girl who thinks like a firecracker,

Sharp as a tack, brain to match, thought cracking master.

So when Kat disappears, lithe as a rope.

Her partner has time for mischief while both elope.

They’ll lay out their traps for mommy to find,

Materializing from thin air defying space and time.

And, occasionally mommy may crack a tooth,

To which she bellows, “Watch out, they’re on the loose!”

When their forces combine, surely a hurricane whistles,

Smashing and crashing like a runaway missile.

Theirs isn’t a rhythm, though they have a reason.

For they are a weather event with no established season.

Rain gummy bear gifts will the storm throughout Spring,

Summer has July 4th, so we know what that means.

Leaves Fall heavily into sacks until carefully deconstructed,

Then snow tries to trap them inside with all the strength it can muster.

Though their actions are sometimes bizarre,

Kat and Rina will surely go far.

For they are glowing beauties with insides to match,

The troubles they get in are because sometimes we all crash.

Mistakes can be made, and will eventually fade.

Everyone works to be better,

Life in reverse is all based on what you gave.

Still thinking of you kiddo…

 

*nearly a year later and still no contact.

Mania

Posted on by meltingneurons

There’s an intensity that leaves nothing but a vacuum behind it,

A bullet hole wasted emptiness drags into a crater shocked from hit after hit.

Temporal fracture points and blanketed waste lines,

Maddening shallowness where no sparks can be refined.

They’re just words put to words put to words,

Shredding thoughts until there’s no meaning left and the musicians are missing the chords.

Scream, whistle, shriek, whisper, mutter, babble,

Consume, read, absorb, listen, digest, dibble and dabble.

The air crackles with the clutter of a thousand ideas,

My brain is burning from a million needs demanding release.

Every nerve is a blasted land of agonizing pleasure I grovel and ask to relive,

I’m in love with the rage, the energy, the uncontrollable beauty of power it gives.

All the information is useless in the end.

What point when there isn’t a person to converse with I’d call friend.

You fucking people drive me crazy.

I make myself manic to the point I can’t move, comatose and lazy.

When thought is so painfully fiery that no more can be endured,

I lay back and pray that the end will crack the chains to which I’m moored.

Let my mind wander to the lights above and send my soul spinning,

Beyond the grasp of this inane insanity,

To something meaningful that wil­l make my heart beat for something more.

Optimistic Insomniac vs Sunrise

Posted on by meltingneurons

There is a remarkable moment,

When we are first kissed by the morning.

A blaring trumped of visual inspiration,

Reliably pulling back the insanity of night.

Elegant bands of color paint the bellies on each cloud,

Demanding that the world awaken,

To rise and face each bramble laden choice.

Blue light blazes into existence,

Everything impure crumbles,

Sentience reclaimed from the endless void of sleep.

A sledgehammer of focus,

Turning man and creature to frenzied behavior,

Hoping that there will be enough time to finish their tasks.

To survive, to indulge, to extend further and further,

Beyond the necessary requirements for existing,

To satiate something primal.

Ideals will be supplanted with those corruptible ideas,

Goals become distorted for excess and stress for accomplishment.

Yet –

Occasionally one will pause to recline,

Observe the infinite overhead panel of cosmos beyond the fuming sun,

Adjust their perspectives.

To rethink the order of priorities,

Place prominent something larger.

To rise and crest with an exquisite jewel warming the soul,

Stand outside the shade.

To breathe deeply of the stardust life is crafted of,

Reflect back the beauty all around,

Until they themselves glow.

A moving mass of living light,

An answer delivered to morning question –

“What am I capable of?”

In The Yard

Posted on by meltingneurons

Blistering heat from a liquid sun,

That has burned up thoughts,

My eyes, their soul and my fun.

What brought on this sanguine approach?

Lost crouching and encroaching on sad joys and lost hope,

I’ve spun out my wheels into newly made glass,

Sand heated to molten,

Razing a shimmering patch.

Skidded to halt over stones constructed as ruts,

My misery shines through soaked in blood, tears, and guts.

Systematic breakdown of holy while high,

Head snapping, throat shaking, body trembling, while I –

Stagger to golden notes,

Choke quietly on the last strand of hope,

Chase goals through my screams,

Praying each daymare fades to a dream,

Balance desperately on life’s beam.

Stable for now,

Scared to say how.

Each breath shoves me closer to the edge,

Welling up my sweet desperate pledge,

To my kids and myself –

“I’ll change this life to a road followed out of hell.”

My mind and spirit can shatter,

Leave me mad as Alice’s hatter –

And though clouds block her burn,

To touch that blistering heat of our liquid hot sun,

Is to what I aspire and yearn.

To Procyon and…..

Posted on by meltingneurons

Hypothetical antithesis lulls the horrid monsters of time to pieces,

For lo, though we design the bitter steps of steel with grave intent to last,

The winds of history beget naught but mystery, shall spread their remains across the past.

So run your numbers now sweet child, and create the fabric clocks,

The ticking and the tocking mark a ship slowly rocking as it lands at destiny while docking,

For an apex it  has achieved, a rising top it hits before the next embarking.

Across the wicked ocean of reality, into storms of worms that bend the mind,

The crafty little wave runner has hit warped road that leaves their direction blind.

But now crew member drops their head in sorrow – this was their destination,

For all roads, and waves, and currents, and flows, lead to where they may have experienced fabrication.

That central depot – the manufacturing shop located just north of Betelgeuse and a few parsecs from Procyon – the final destination.

Note: Semi-stream of consciousness edited for grammar so it’s a bit more coherent. Meaning? I’m skeptical…but read out loud it has an interesting rhythm.