Category Archives: color

Religious Experience (Fireworks)

“I’m just a manic depressive. Toting around my own crown. I’ve got a positive message. Sometimes I can’t get it out.”  ~Brand New

DSC_0020

A religious experience through and through.
With the words of Brand New.
Jesse is singing, “I’m just a manic depressive.” 
Is the truth being told while I watch the fire overhead?

Fireworks explode.
The colors are shown.
I see the reds, whites, and blues,
But it is a different country that I pursue.

Is my world a contradiction that I call my own?
Or is it a search for a place that I think is my home?
A religious experience that isn’t necessarily one I knew.
The difference is, it is a mix of fireworks and Brand New.

I am looking for a color that is my own.
A game played between shades that I already know.
Experience dictating the feelings in my blood.
Spewing out like the sparks that start off small and spread out above my head.

These fireworks are memorizing the sky.
Sparking imagination.
Turning my eyes toward places that I never saw before.
While this music is playing in my head.

A gun shot is just as loud.
A boom like the fire against this night sky.
I am having a religious experience.
Even though I don’t have anyone’s hand.

“I’m just a manic depressive.” Those are the lyrics the song says.
The night a distraction, filled with lights, emotion, music, and religion.
So many colors light up the sky tonight.
So many memories colliding together.

When the music takes you and the scenery is beautiful.
It fills you up and takes you under its wing.
With a taste of wine and the breaking of the bread.
It is a religious experience that I just had. 

Advertisements

Junk Food and Gasoline

A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams. Your misery and hate kill us all. So paint it black and take it back. Let’s shout it loud and clear. Defiant to the end we hear the call…to carry on.  ~My Chemical Romance

Traveler Sunshine The Clouds Wilderness

Let me tell you a little story about myself.
A little story that shows how I think.
It is presented in lots of speak that doesn’t stream together.
But who cares, let’s have a look.

Traveling down a road he looks to the other side and decides to go off on his own.
A motivation brought on by the longing of something different.
Yet, when the road is back into view, he runs back to it with his tail between his legs.
A coward some might say, others might call it a tactical retreat.

This man takes  a few steps into the wild and sees a light.
One that defines and shines in the sky, both at night and during day.
When he is adrift it lights his way and when he hides it brings out what he wants to keep hidden.
An open book that is hidden well behind this tree.

Next, he sees himself in a parade.
Colors are everywhere, and then in the distance he sees it.
It looks like hope… hope in the form of a black shrouded figure running off into the crowd.
The parade is going swell, so he decides not to pursue the silent observer.

The floats fly high in the sky.
Held up by the dreams of those around him.
Their colors represent the wins he wishes he could have.
Also illuminating the sin that is always in his head.

One day the shrouded man came to his door.
He knocked and knocked, but he did not answer its call.
Glued to TV screens and gasoline…
Junk food and short bursts of ecstasy that mean nothing in the long run.

The knocking began coming at least once a week.
Always lasting for hours at a time and sometimes he answers the call.
A wave hits his chest when he does for the entirety of the worlds oceans crash into his apartment.
He drowns and lives again as the shrouded mans’ cloak disrobes to reveal the light that is always present.

The end of our tale is close and the climax may come.
The problem with that though is the story is continuous and I don’t know how it will end.
The only part I am sure about is that the other side will be there with open arms,
But what will need to be endured to get there is not in my control.

He sits still, the only thing moving is his mouth.
Singing a song about hope, love, death, pain, and life.
An eclectic mix of power pop, metal, and rock.
A blending of ideals, looking for a balance of learning about other views and solidifying his personal beliefs.

He sits and he sings.
He sings because it is worth it to him to understand the melodies that have been given to him.
He sits and he weeps.
He weeps for the chance to make a difference, or for happiness and joy that can sometimes ring true.

He is sitting their singing the songs of saints and sinners.
Singing the songs of pain from the unbelievers.
Singing the songs of hope and redemption.
He waits for the knock to come and the ocean to meet him once more.

I look and I see the story unfolding all around me.
Wondering if it is just me who sees their life in metaphorical agony?
Wondering if it is just me who examines their hopes and dreams in context of melodies?
All in all I see it as a dance between me, myself, and the Maker of I.

 

 

Maybe a Bit of Entropy

“Stars looking at our planet watching entropy and pain.”  ~Switchfoot

books-1099067_1920

My empathy sometimes turns into entropy.
A confusion of thoughts and ideas that sometimes get thrown onto a blog.
A clear cut meaning doesn’t always come through.
But that is nothing new.

For people write, talk, and sing.
They do all these things to audiences that may or may not see what they are trying to say.
A little worry here, and a lot of anger over there.
A bit of chaos that can bind together the linearity of my life.

Break down what it means to be alive.
Take it down to the basic elements.
What are we left with?
I am left with you, God and me.
And maybe a bit of entropy.

The Mask Family

“I gave my everything for all the wrong things. In this cold reality I made this selfish war machine.” ~Coheed and Cambria

color-1152780_1920

She stumbles tonight.
Clinging onto the stench of sidewalk stories and bitter determination.
Travelling a block is too much to ask.
And the regret is already sinking in.

Ms. Blue Mask, you are loved. 

She didn’t mean to do this.
It was never her intention.
But the pain was too much and her head and heart did not connect.
A stone that was turned and then tossed aside for something worse.

You are loved.

His eyes glaze over and the emotion takes him from the inside.
A pent up anger lurching out.
His hand now bloodied, his shirt stained.
Brick one and he is left with zero.

Mr. Red Mask, you are loved. 

His hope was diminished.
It went out the window just like the other.
Regret that he did it first.
Giving into the world that has so many beautiful traps.

You are loved.

The lake sprawled out in front of them.
The waters edge a welcoming distraction from the world.
A slip and a fall.
Accidental of course, but the sign was broken.

Mr. and Ms.Green Masks, you are loved. 

The lake is distant, and the void was never filled.
They reach for a different set of hands.
The numb directing the physical.
Reaching for an answer in a myriad of places.

You are loved.

Limp wrist and a painting that is all his own.
The instrument fallen to the floor after he was satisfied.
Closing his eyes to breathe in the moment.
A scream and a stutter at the door.

Mr. Black Mask, you are loved. 

Awake in his sterile room.
Having discussion  after discussion. 
He asks, “Why, won’t these people ever wear anything other than white?” 
Is his head clear yet?

You are loved.

A plethora of stories.
Failures and understatements litter the air.
All coming together to form a singular truth.
That you are loved, despite…

A mixture of color and depth of view.
Tears that loosen the tongue.
As people fall to their knees to repent and pray.
A performance that even the Oscars can’t deny multiple awards.

But there is love shrouded behind your shadow.
Longing to wrap you up.
Wanting you to let go of pride and self loathing.
For you are loved.
Because this love will never deny.

348105335_c97ee377f2_z