As I grow and age I know the creaking joints and pain of cold.

Decaying form and thoughts go slow oh I hate this aging so.

Before my time I speed and go into the land of ages gold, the tarnish of youth polished to soon my form cracks and breaks, the weight too much to hold.

Both young and old forward I go, into tomorrow’s great unknown. With the silver of youth and ages unvarnished gold.


Echoes & Currents/Wanderer’s Demon

Echoes and currents of thoughts and ideas, of dreams that died and words left unsaid.

The regrets that haunt my sleep and rattle around inside my head.

Ephemeral currents of sadness too deep, of happiness unknown, and this anger I keep.

It’s like a ghost on my shoulder, the demon that speaks, it provides unspeakable inspiration, yet the cost is too steep.

The exile is lonely, the wanderer is cold, I stumble through this night, and all I want…

All I want is a home.

Solitude (Exile)

I think aloud and my thoughts do echo through out the noiseless sound,

the rumbling ramble that is my mind, sitting in shadows alone, paying my due time.

Caged in self imposed exile, chained to solitude as all I know.

I can’t understand how to leave this castle I’ve built when it’s all I have and all I own.

Nor do I have the keys to open the gates to another, to let someone in.

So I’m trapped in this citadel, this castle of mine, with only my thoughts and my echo as a friend to my darkened time.

If only I’d not locked the door behind me, if only I’d not built my walls so high.

Maybe then at least the moon or sun could be my friend, something else to get me by.

But alas it’s not to be, I’ll be trapped in this darkness forever with not even shadows for company.

I’ve found now, with this exile of mine, perhaps it better to risk the dagger and open the door, than dwell and silence without a single smile for warmth.

Grey Moment

Standing on the shore of what was, I watch what is drift away. It left me behind standing stranded on a beach with no name.

A place long in the past but never outside of now. Where nothing matters and nothing cares and all the world is gray nothing in the span of a single moment that stretches forward into eternity.

I stand there, waiting, and nothing passes, nothing moves. There is only myself and that grey moment, and the silence of the weight of the ashes that have become my home.

My Mind – not sure which part this is

Hurting, hurting, hunting the scar and seeing the sound as I travels to the ground and Me goes away once more.

We has returned only to go to Their grave and They have yet to be seen again, and Us remains unsure.

I knows not the Me that came nor recognize the We that went once more I lost Myself to Them the only ones I once let in before.

The ones that broke Me and left Us sad, that crippled They and sent the others to Their grave but most of all they shattered I when they broke Me and We have never been the same.

I recognize not the shadows of We or this crazed cursed Me, the ones with scars and pain and its all I see. So all cry and scream and laugh because even shattered, even broken.

I and We and Me and They go to Their grave and sit and carouse and watch as the moon glowers down and the roses blossom tulip flowers, for even mad and even crazed All can speak as one.

“Least We’re not alone.”

A Sad State of Affairs

This isn’t going to be one of my normal poems, or stories. I just wanted to get this off my chest, and that’s my perception of a complete lack of ethics in today’s journalism. Between the attempts of journalism to get people censored at work or in society because of something they said, they might consider to be disagreeable, or an idea they hold to be wrong. In addition to this is the seeking of a story, regardless of who it might damage, or benefit.

It seems, to me, that this sad state of affairs is because of two things, people don’t understand the responsibility one has when one writes journalistic articles, and people know all too well the power of the pen. Between this and the falling back on the reputation of the name of a publication, it seems many people prefer the glory of “Breaking a story” than they do anything else. A good example is the reaction of the writers of the scandal behind both the YouTube advertisement problem and the pewdiepie issue not long before it. Neither time did they go to the party the information was about,  they did not approach pewdiepie or YouTube with their findings, and ask them “What’s this?” they instead approached the subject in such a way to be intentionally damaging, to provide a bigger story. There are comments on twitter (Which I’ve seen and can find if needed) that support this, granted I’ll admit some ability to be wrong, I’m not a journalist, and this is just a blog.

Meaning this is an opinion, not something I’m stating as fact, but the way I’ve seen things happen it’s pretty supported here.

I know I risk losing followers and what not for saying this but I feel not saying that I’m saddened by, would be dishonest. By not mentioning that what I consider a misuse of journalistic power is a sad state of affairs would simply not be right by my standards. If anyone has any information or facts behind this, that they were indeed reporting the news, not making it, please by all means share it. I still can’t help but think that regardless the story itself could have been handled better than having the current going ons that are happening on YouTube because of it.

This mind you doesn’t just apply to just the YouTube affair, there are a myriad of things, people fired because of off color comments outside of work, due to social media and a number of other things that are just wrong. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should and most certainly media and journalism is not there to act as some bully boy, censoring people for society because the government isn’t allowed to.

Note: This isn’t tagged as journalism or anything of the sort, because it’s not. This is simply an opinion on what I’ve seen so far on and the goings on in certain outlets of journalism and media today.