Author: fayceless

The past, the present, the future

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I always like to compare a person’s life to the game of Jenga.  Simple game, love it to death.  It starts off blank, with a lot of promise as to what you can build.  Sort of like life.  The direction of what you build has some initial influence based on the actions of the creator, sort of like how your life took on a particular role based on the actions of your parents.  Then at some point you stop building up and the game begins.  Here is where my comparison truly begins.  Many people think, or as I see it – wish very, very hard, that their past actions can be forgotten.  Erased.  But to do so, to get rid of your past, you are only aiding in the destruction of your future.  Take your Jenga tower.  Take away 2 blocks, from the third row from the bottom.  Watch your tower shake.  Those 2 blocks, those are one of the moments of your past you wished away.  Take away some more memories.  Let me know how long it takes before your tower, your future, crumbles.

So what’s the point?  If you cannot handle your past mistakes, don’t try to erase or get rid of them.  Don’t make them.  Or man-up and deal with them.  Who you will eventually become is a direct result of who you have been.  And get Jenga, its a wonderful game!!!

The Art of……

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Poetry.

I do not know when I started to like writing poetry. I think it has its roots in a class I took in high school. My creative writing teachers name was Barbie. Attractive lady, but what I remember most was the literary magazine she had the class author. I was an editor, and in there I wrote my very first poem. About basketball I think. Ever since, I think I took to poetry a lot due to my private nature. I have so many things I want to say, but being this shy guy limits me from saying it all. So I write. Some say I write well. Some have cried from my poetry. Some think I need loads of help to perfect the craft. Hell, this is fun for me still, my daughter’s next meal is not dependent on my writing, yet.

With that, here is my first blog entry poem. I hope to post more as the days go on. Leave me a note with all comments you may have.

All around I daily view the confines of what restricts me,
From enjoying parts of life, it’s not so difficult to see.

 

That hours, days are lost due to the allure of a joyous thing,
This addiction has me trapped in a hole, deep, unable to bring,
An end to this cycle which has me, strung out in a constant daze,
Can’t focus on any thing more, my interests are hard to raise.

 

As I try daily to quit this routine habit that surrounds,
I just end up at a point where my stresses link and compound.

 

The calm throughout me that my addictive property causes,
Clears my mind, decisions can be made without many pauses.

 

Although I know that too much good only unevens the scale,
And the slew of bad may become a weight too much to entail,
I must find a way to make this need coexist with my being,
For if gone unchecked I risk losing all that I am seeing.