Monthly Archives: February 2012
Innocence Lost.
“A beautiful flower not quite in bloom.
Her head took to the sky,
to share her dreams with the moon.
Armed to the teeth with a dream to become.
She brightened the lives around her,
Sharing love with everyone.
Her future was bright; youthful naiveté aside.
She lived a life filled with passion;
Taking challenges in stride.
No one could have imagined what her life would bring.
Her flower would bloom no more.
She was barely thirteen.
Enamored with her petals; such a sight to behold.
She would be his.
Adoration turned cold.
His eyes she’ll remember; his touch made her a whore.
Now her petals lay sundered.
Her passion is no more.
Her future was bleak. Life was now a lie.
Even the moon did reject her.
All that’s left was to cry.
Her sobs carry her to sleep. No reprieve shall be found.
The demon waits in her dreams.
A nightmare without sound.
His putrid breathe is upon her; his grip is far too real.
She fights in vain against him.
Her innocence he kills.
In terror she awakens; sweat heavy upon her face.
Forsaken by his perfection.
She has fallen from grace.”
~ G. Paul Stevenson
Rage
I did this in my early twenties. Real early work, so, not as eloquent as my newer stuff, but I wanted to share anyway.
”Come at me with your shotgun of rage, and I will be the shell. Make me into the weapon of your discontent.
You force upon me the sideline political mind-games of your power hungry capitalistic power plays. You tell me what to think, how to feel, who to hate, and what to love. The reality is, you fear me. I did not become the creature you planned for me to be. I have become the vessel of truth. A truth which was born from the ashes of your dominion, conditioned in the solace of your failure, and nurtured at the bosom of your deceit.
You didn’t account for me. My disobedience ruined that grand plan of yours, didn’t it? I emerge from the cocoon of adolescence as the voice of a disgruntled society. Your conditioning failed. I hold high the bloody fist of rebellion, and deny the control you place upon me. My very being chokes the life from the fascist elite which dominate the fiasco you call a government.
I stalk you with homicidal intent, and laugh at your ill willed gambit to rid yourself of the disease eating away at your perfectly programmed society. Your denial of who and what I am will not stop me. It fuels me. It’s the proof needed to confirm that I will be your downfall, and with it, you ratify my call for rebellion. You look more and more pitiful to me every day. I watch with sadness as you wallow in the desolation brought upon yourself by the hollow power of your fascist regime.
Your peers call for repentance. You cry to God for forgiveness for your crimes against humanity–never missing a beat. Every ounce of dogmatic stoicism left within you shatters to the ground. A harsh wind answers your prayer, a wind of change. You, your government, and all of the rotted ideology it held have come to an end. You cannot hide in an empty reality. No matter how deafening the clamor may be.
Embrace me now. Take my essence into your own. The God in me is willing to forgive. I bear no deceit and envelope you in my hope for a brighter future. The tumor you carried was nearly the end of you. The only cure is what I have become. You cannot fight against it. The uprising will come as sure as the sun sets.
Accept the salvation that lies within me. It is your only hope for redemption. Change is at hand. I can plant the seed of knowledge into your mind, but only you can actualize its potential. Free yourself from the fear placed upon you by your forefathers, discard the games you hold so dear, and become the Gods you were meant to be.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
All We’ve Got.
”A part of me died the other day. I failed to notice until it was too late. It’s a cold world. A world made colder by the folly of our humanity. I scream for you, and yet, this is the outcome of our inability to see beyond our tired pasts. I cry now, not because of our nature, but because it is that very nature which makes us as beautiful as we are disgusting. People will come into our lives, and of those people, some will leave quickly. They will help you, love you, and humble you. They will also hurt you. Remember that they are only human. A burden we quickly forget. Cherish them, flaws and all. It’s all you will ever truly have in this life.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
Generation Last…
”Plug in, toke up, burn out–generation last. We cashed the blank check of the future for a hollow dollar and a napalm facial.
Everyone knows how this ride ends, and yet we’re all gonna act REAL surprised when we hit the wall. Super… Wilful ignorance is taught en masse, and now the world is high on American approved stupidity.
We shoot up facsimile know how through a needle clogged with hate, and then we expect the come down to be oh so gentle.
Well, I have news for you. You’re out of your fucking mind. You, your religion, your holier than thou attitude, and your exceptional Americanism has done nothing but destroy everything around us.
America: Christian War Machine — We’ll Liberate The FUCK Out Of You!” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
The worst kind.
“A liar of the worst kind. A fallacy within the mind of a fallacy. A renegade meme looking for pension in a sleight-of-hand world. The crop you sow is fertilized by the fallout of your mind. A whelp lost in the big bad world trying to play the game like you’ve got the winning hand, but you don’t. You haven’t a chance. You never did. Time to fold. Maybe come back one day when you’ve learned a lesson or two… We’ll be waiting… Watching.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
Why did we have to fail?
”The pain in your eyes, and the lies that they hide are too much for me to bear. I can’t stand the way you look at me. It’s as if I took your last ounce of will and smashed it against a broken heart. This hasn’t been love for ages, and yet here we are years later, holding on. Why can’t we let go? The good times are like the memory of a faded dream–insubstantial, and yet, they’re all we’ve got…” G. Paul Stevenson
On my way home.
I board my plane, and head to the back seats where I prefer to sit. There was a purse on the aisle seat in the last row on the left, so I took the last row on the right. I just finished stowing my luggage when a mother and her two young children made it back to where I was. The mother said to her 3 year old that she would have to sit with a stranger while she took care of her 8 month old. The little girl started sobbing. I got up and told her that they could have my seat, and I grabbed my gear and went to the left aisle seat. Well, it turned out that the last aisle was not taken. The purse on the last seat belonged to one of the stewardesses. She came up to me and said that because I let the lady and her children have the seat, all the drinks are on the house. I ordered a rum and coke, and she brought me a couple cans of coke and three mini Jack Daniels. It was a great flight home.
The Tragedy…
”Nothing will change if I break before you, but then you may see the extent of my pain, and still not understand. It’s not that it’s beyond comprehension. It’s just that it is born from my world view, and your world view cannot fit into it. A sad state of affairs. You can empathize, but you cannot fathom. You can stand by my side, but I will always be alone. You cannot understand what you’ve never been, and that alone is a great human tragedy. “~G. Paul Stevenson
Okay, I’m going on vacation.
I will be back by the 14th. While I’m gone, I will try to do a post or two. I just wanted to take a moment to thank you guys for following me. I will be posting another post later today that has more substance than this.
The into to the last short story in my book. Almost done.
“Kelly could lie to her over the phone, and he could lie to her face—her beautiful face as full of pain as he’d ever seen, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Her eyes were so tearful, and her blubbering lips unable to spit out the word ‘no’ when he left her with their children, Sarah and Michael, and the pathetic excuse ‘I have to work’, ringing in her ears. Her parent’s lives hung in the balance, and all he could do was run and hide.
It wasn’t because Kelly was afraid of death. He watched his business partner blow his brains out when he lost everything in the stock market crash that kicked off the great recession. He just bitched about his brains staining his Italian silk tie while he waited for the 911 automated system to ask if I preferred English or Spanish.
No, death didn’t bother him in the slightest. He ran away because he feared the life death brings. He was afraid to see the pain they were going through, and realize he had no pain to feel when the knife of death was twisted into him, that he had no hate to breathe into a riot, and no love to give to those he’s supposed to love unconditionally. He was the worst kind of coward. One who was so afraid of himself that he couldn’t allow himself to feel, because if he did, he would crack under the pressure.
Kelly pulled out his .45 from under his jacket, and held it lovingly against his temple. It would be so easy to end it now. No more cowardice, no more screaming inadequacies—just oblivion. He couldn’t do it, though. He didn’t have it in him. He put the gun back into its holster, and sighed.
“It’s time to escape.” He sighed. There was just too much bullshit heavy in his mind. Kelly drew his fingers across the gold inlay of his hand made oak desk, and then traced the ornate carvings of the Greek God’s bickering like children over the Golden Apple, while Eris, the Goddess of Discord laughed from the shadows. He settled on the top drawer, took out a small humidor, and pulled out a blunt.
He smoked his troubles away for a time, but the hollow ritual meant nothing to him anymore. It was time to get the fuck away from reality. Kelly snubbed the half-smoked blunt, and hit the door.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
