Category Archives: Uncategorized
They Say…
I wrote this while struggling with religion. I left it all behind shortly after.
”They say that God is infinite, and that Solomon was the wisest of all kings. Solomon said “the more knowledge; the more suffering.” If God is infinite, then God suffers infinitely. If God suffers infinitely, then existence may very well be God’s way to discover the source of his own suffering.
Humanity suffers due to knowledge, and knowledge comes from experience. So why then do we strive to learn? We call it human nature. We as humans harbor an insane lust for knowledge. Sometimes it can be a great boon, at other times it is nothing more than a devastating blow to our fragile psyches.
We experiment constantly. We tinker with everything from wood carving to the atomic structure. We have mapped the human genome and now we seek to manipulate it. We cannot settle for what we have here on Earth, so we reach for the stars. We are infinitely curious, therefore, infinitely cursed.
In my life I have experienced many things. I’ve felt the sorrow of years of abuse, the blissful oblivion of love, the immense joy of parenthood, the dregs of homelessness, and the highs of easy living. I have been an addict, a lover, a racist, a liar, and for a time, an honest man. I have seen the beautiful creation of life and then watched it disappear in the blink of an eye. You could say that I have experienced many things. I say that I have barely scratched the surface.
That’s just the way we as humans are. We revel in the suffering we bring upon ourselves, while denying that it is that suffering which keeps us going.
If God exists, and this is his “plan”; I can only thank him for the knowledge, and damn him for the pain.”
My Dark Slave
“Look into my eyes and see the empty darkness which holds my hate. Look a little further and you will see that there is no hope. Hold the stare until you are trapped within the nothing of my soul. You are mine now–a puppet to bend to my will. I will enjoy you. I will pleasure you and then take it all away on a whim. I will torture you just the way you like it. My control will be total in its fervor. I will be like a drug, and you will lust for me. I will make you beg for it. You will ache when I deny you, and cry out in pleasure when I finally give you what you need. Oh yes, my pet. You will be the one–my dark slave.” ~G. Paul Stevenson
A bunch of random small shit…
“I am what I am, and it is what it was, and that is who I will never be again. Whole, happy, and ready for life–rent asunder.”
“I see hate in your eyes. I’d love to taste it. There’s blood on your hands. Please don’t waste it. Give it to me, and make it hurt. Make it brutal. Prove my worth.”
“A lullaby is a syllables lie. A wave, a brush, a tired sigh. I wish I was able to fly… “
My Pint Song:
“Repent my lad, repent my dear, repent until you die. Jesus cannot save you, no matter how hard you try.”
“The world is made within the imagination of the few, at the expense of the sanity of the many.”
“Admit you’re going to die. Understand it, and then let it go. Only then will you come to appreciate life.”
“I only want some truth–a little bit of perspective, but what can be derived from a world so dejected.”
“A simple thought. A complex word. A gaze over an endless ocean. This is what reality holds for me. A morbid joke. A fantastic story. A rage of logic in a chaos reality.”
“When I tie you down you’ll tell me you love me. When I smack your ass, you’ll tell me I care. When you take me into the depth of you, only then will you learn what’s there.”
“You make me hurt. Your mind I’ll blow. I fuck you twice. I rape you slow. I want your love. I need your face. I will become you, and take your place.”
“With no dreams, there is no life worth living. With no hope, there is only the blank death of still life harboring self pity and dejected horror.”
~G. Paul Stevenson
When Will I Be Enough?
“It’s a night of cold thoughts, and even colder breezes. My mind is lost from the haze of one too many joints, and far more of life’s guilt. I’m a slave to my past as I reach for the future. I can win this if I try hard enough. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. In the meantime I’ll just commit mental genocide and bury the cold bodies of my thoughts in mental mass graves. It’s a putrid affair of not “good enoughs”, and “will never bes”.”~G. Paul Stevenson
The Letter: Formally The Brink.
Many of you know this piece before it was edited for publication. It is my first published piece. It was featured on http://zombiepoetry.com/. It was premiered the debut launch in February.
“What brings you to the brink? You have everything going for you. You have a lithe graceful beauty–captivating and inspiring, an intelligence which holds its own against many opponents, and the luxury of the ease of life. Are you slumming with the low-lives for a cheap thrill, or is it something deeper than that?
You are not one of my kind. I shouldn’t trust you, yet I find myself enamored with your easy nature. You seem at one with yourself; an appealing confidence which draws me in more than I should allow.
I question your motives because I cannot fathom anyone wanting to come to a place like this. A place where every vice can be had, and every trouble found. I watch you with weary eyes because such grace is beyond the world of my heart.
Are you here because you feel like you don’t belong with the other genetic lottery winners? Do you feel alienated amongst them? I can’t help wonder why you stand on the precipice of insanity with my kind. The forsaken lands are no place for a woman like you.
I hold as much contempt as I do respect for your brilliance. If I never see you again, know you have been a pleasant escape from the self-hate and loathing we breed in spades beyond the land of no return.
Something in you brings out the nurturer in me; an abandoned aspect of rusty ability. It bids me to shelter you, but that is more than I can give. I give you this warning. Don’t stray too far into the depths of hell. It’s an empty existence among us demons. You wouldn’t be the first to fall, nor the last. Go back to the safety of your family before you get hurt. It would be a great loss, and a truly empty tragedy.” ~G. Paul Stevenson
Too Early.
“I was born too early. The here and now breathes death into me. It’s stagnation beyond redemption, and it chokes my intelligence with a potent ignorance bent on rejecting reality. I can’t take it. I keep looking at the stars and I realize how empty our existence truly is. Our leaders blow people up for profit, and laugh all the way to the bank. All the while the paupers scramble day in and day out just to make enough money to eat. They divide us on social and religious issues, and then strip us of our rights and our privacy behind the scenes. It’s an endless folly. I keep holding out hope that one day we will see through the games, put our differences aside, and reach for the stars. I know that I will never see that day. I will never experience a grand adventure into the great unknown, and discover the wonders of our universe. No, my feet will remain planted on terra firma until I die. I was just born too early.” ~G. Paul Stevenson
The Rooster Crows.
I’m a recovering drug addict. I used for 8 years, and have been sober for 4. It may seem weird to say recovering when I’ve been sober for years, but that is just how it is. I will always be an addict. The urge to use strikes hard and quick. I will live with it the rest of my life. I wrote this sometime during my battle.
“It’s been weeks since my last fix and I can finally score. My body shakes with manic anticipation, while my heart beats hard in my chest. Everything will be better soon. The high will fill my holes–a momentary fix. I will soon be empty once more, and I’ll just go back again. I don’t want this, but I can’t say no. It controls me. So, I score some shit and head back home. I pull out my mirror, and admire its polished surface. The face looking back has lost the ability to dream, to live life. I pour out a pile of rocks to crush, cut, and line up. The anticipation grips me hard, and I shake as I put the tooter to my nose. I put it back down, and tell myself it’s not too late. Who was I trying to fool? I pick up the tooter, and before I have another chance to talk myself out of it, I take the bump. It’s smooth, and it coats my nasal passage with a quickness. It burns hard and fast. I close my eyes to hold back the tears welling inside. I choke on the acrid bitterness of my salvation. The high rushes through my head, into my chest, and then finally surges through my body. My anticipation is sated–The rooster crows.” ~G. Paul Stevenson
Change.
”I’ve tried so hard to change, but found myself back in that same old place again. Like a broken record skip, skip, skipping against a rusty needle long since forgotten in a shack somewhere in the great unknown.
It’s the story of my life. Broken down and lost in the annals of time. A brash shrinking violet searching for what he hasn’t a clue in the world he needs to find, and hoping to stumble across a bit of truth during his journey.
I’m tired of being lost, aimless, and desperate for a moment of clarity in an opaque world. Maybe I’ll get lucky one day and find my way into a great awakening. Wouldn’t that just be wonderful? Just to find my way for once?
I shouldn’t get my hopes up, though. That’s just begging for one more failure that my heart can’t take.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
It’s Just a Matter of Time.
“I see children crying over the corpse of a world long since fallen into decay. The hollow dream of national pride has broken down into corporate warfare pissing contests. We got sucked in, sucked down, and sucked off, and I don’t mean blowing your load down a hot woman’s throat. I mean we were taken for a fucking ride. A nice comfortable ass raping, and we giggled the whole way. Wonderful, now the world’s resources are depleted, and corporate profit margins soar as war becomes a constant state of being. It’s a never ending battle over the table scraps of humanity, in the name of sustainability, and all to cling onto a bit of morally bankrupt hope that one day humanity will thrive again in the face of corporate greed. That’s no hope I want any part of. ” ~G. Paul Stevenson
The Horror of Man.
“I write about the horror of man. A morbid fascination I’ve survived more than once. I write about our inability to escape the fear which propagates in the dark recesses of our society. I write about the Monkeys called Humans who run around with their dicks in their hands, dropping bombs, and raping the minds of their own youth. I write about the darkness, the hate, and the pain that humanity not only revels in, but uses as fuel to survive. I write to show the unrecognized beauty of such horrors. I write to share the beauty of our hope–a hope which stirs from within the human spirit. That hope is what speaks to humanity through the shame of their atrocities. It says that no matter how dark we get–a light will always shine through. It’s a beacon of guidance for future generations. A path to a place I hope we will go one day–a future of radiant hope breaking through the despair of our humanity.” ~ G. Paul Stevenson
