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| From now on, I shall no longer be updating Xanga. If you really wish to keep in touch with me, fuck you, use a phone.
405-229-0797
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| So here are my disjointed, and uncommon thoughts.
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A life
A sorrowful waste
The waves crash
Breaking on rocks
The tide
So constant
So weak
A lifetime
Of ebbing and flowing
No meaning
'Til the rock breaks
The steadfast
The stone
So valiant
In it's defense
Yet so easily worn away
The story of our earth
We crash and break against it
We are the ocean
So constant in it's destruction
Yet ever so slow
We break against the earth
And wait for it to give
Our lives thrown away
For that one drop
That slips into the cracks
And frees the rubble
From its mother stone
But it is this one drop
That the rest will ebb for
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An ominous sky above
And a pale comparison
To the disquiet of the heavens
A pale pink aura
Gives a single sign of life
The great city
With lights
And noise
And dust
And strangeness
That none could ever imagine
Could give the slightest hint of existence
Yet we revel in these modern times
And enjoy the cold
Artificial love
That we ourselves have created
Yet when one cog
In our societal machine
Fails
We blame the soulless
The heartless
The choiceless
For our very own mistakes
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A cool damp wind settles
Over the suburban skyline
With rain and sleet and snow
The rage of the earth's spirit
Begins to make itself known
Is it Soddom reborn?
From our nature's malevolence
Comes retribution
For the lazy
The immoral
And the leeches
Of the common man
Let the wind and the water
Use man's own creations
To destroy each other
To prove that we are dust
And to dust
We shall return
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War
A concept so primitive
For now we have
Conflict and
Operation and
Police Action
With which to busy ourselves
For war is noble
Believged in from the highest
To the lowest
The good
Fights the evil
And so souls depart
In epic battle
A love of country
Or a desire for freedom
The disquiet of a populace
Repressed for centuries
Seems almost palpable
To the leaders of our fight
When the blind lead the brave
In a feable attempt at peace
In a place where death
And suppression
Supplant freedom
And life
As an unfree people
Fight for their right
To be unfree
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Oh to be so tired
Of the drudgeries
Of an ordinary life
With ordinary pay
And ordinary people
To share in your ordinary day
So what is the point,
You might ask,
Of doing the same thing,
In the same place,
With the same people,
And every day is
Just like the
One before it?
Because, child,
For all eternity
Your blood has
Done the same things,
For the same pay
With the same people
Living with the singular hope
Though unbeknownst to them
That maybe
One day
For one, shining moment
That they will make a difference
The stone will be overturned
The wall will be stronger
The sun will shine through the clouds
And the earth will be moved
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Each of us contains a soul. Maybe not the religious idea of a 'sou,' but of course an innate form of energy that flows in every natural object. From lake to stone to flower to human, the energy is passed as if flowing like the very oceans themselves. A simple depiction can be seen as the water flowing over the stones, permeating every once dry pore of this supposedly inanimate object. But, like the stone, humans are born a dry pebble that must be trickled over so that tiny, inconspicuous pebble can form itself into a unique boulder. Yet today, time and time again, we see our pebbles skipped across the lake only to be totally submerged, sinking to the very bottom, a failure. Our pebbles must be watered like rosebushes, carefully, so as not to drown them, simply giving them the constant refreshment that allows them to grow. Grow so that the stone becomes an immovable boulder, govered in moss and lichen, living off the stone's natural, unmoving strength. So our society shall neither die nor flourish, as each stone is skipped out to sink to the bottm, or to be carried back by wave and destroyed against the strong.
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| Such an odd night.
Things I've done. Things that will never happen again.
I've probably made a lot of people feel uncomfortable.
And to those people, I apologize.
I've showered now, and spent a quiet morning by the lake, reflecting on life and it's experiences.
Maybe I shall post some of the thoughts I wrote down, or some of the pictures I took. If any look good at all. We shall see.
Until then, the fragmented thoughts of Seth Chernak shall be delayed...
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| PARTY TONIGHT.
Call me and we'll hang.
405-229-0797
I'm off work at 6 or so, and then... it begins.
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