Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Alex Show - Episode 37

The Second View 
Needless to say,
Insert a clever line here.
Another one here,
And we'll finish it up with a play on words,
Ooooo and make it rhyme!


Regardless of how I feel at the end of each day, I think of myself from an outside perspective. A secondhand view can be enlightening, yet severely disappointing at times. I do not do this frequently - or so I try - but when I do, I come to the misled realization that nothing is exactly as I see it. Whether I feel accomplished or unfavorable, the substantiality of my life is somewhat mundane to others. I am not saying everyone on the outside believes my existence to be meaningless, I am only recognizing the fact that life itself is a commonplace thing, and that my life is no different.

I must take a moment aside to address that this evaluation is by no means a disheartened cry for help. It is more of a personal epiphany that my life is not as big as I make it out to be. The phrase "worry yourself to death" perfectly applies here. Sure, the act of worrying will not physically kill us, but it would be a waste of life to spend the rest of our days in a constant state of worriment. On the other hand, that is not permission to be careless. Though it is is hard to balance cautiousness and carelessness, it must be attempted. Not every spill will result with a fatal head injury. Sometimes we just slip and clean up the mess. Sometimes.

This post started as new ideas for song lyrics. Then it turned into a greater idea. Now it has become more of a contradictory rant, so I will get to the point. Life is a gift. Unlike other gifts we are given, there is no receipt. Unlike other gifts we are given, it cannot be exchanged for a better one. Unlike other gifts we are given, if we do not take the greatest care of it, it will not last. Like all gifts we are given, it can be broken, it can be lost, and it can be forgotten. Do not worry as much about the gifts of others. Life is not a second view. 

- afm

Friday, May 4, 2012

Haunting Elegance

Your words are inviting,
Warm and eloquent.
Deciphering each phrase-
Coined by malaise-
Can strip that warmth, desolate.

You're not a phantom,
But still you haunt me.
Turn your shoulder.
Feign to want me.
There's no room here
For fickle friends.

Your words are hanging,
Loose and decadent.
Discussing every title-
Regardless of how vital-
Can fuel my ever swaying temperament.

You're not a phantom,
But still you haunt me.
Hatred smoldered
Against my body.
There might be room here
For fervid friends.

Lift the pen,
And draw the lines.
Scribble out
Your final title.
Your final

There's no room here
To make amends.
I'll make your end.

- afm