Firing neurons

I've realized now that I miss the virtual poetry communities. Not message boards but chat more than anything. It started with mIRC for me back in 1996, where I was _BURn_ and Malakai. Then a bunch of us moved to virtual places i think it was, until they started charging. From there it was VoodooChat until the main poetry room slowly devolved into a primitive form of /b/ from 4chan.
I took a break after that because everyone i knew was so scattered and I didnt have the time or patience to try the different new programs/places out there.

So where do the poets gather online to chat/share/analyze these days?


Where are the words?

So the man that took my innocence when I was four years old is behind bars finally, for the same crime. He never stopped and finally got caught, and he is looking at 4 years to 15 years because of it. I've known since March, and it has created the oddest relief/block combination. I'm content that life has finally caught up with him and the events have left me rather numb emotionally. My words are stunted and poorly put together from lack of practice. I haven't given up on writing, but I wonder at times if it tired of me and my abuse of the language in my poetry. Something to think about I guess.

So we reach the holidays again
Mother is the first word learned by most
Haldol
Geodon
Ativan
Not my first, just the newest words to investigate
Would probably be good to understand what they're giving her
Shes been committed

I tasted spring today
You can't see it yet
But as the temperature tipped above 60
You could taste it
I did
Spring tastes of nature's birth
Thought you should know

37 weeks without an entry
The whole site looks different
Neat stuff
So today I just wanted to get this working again
So it does now
37 weeks seems like a long time
But in reality, it went by in a blink
Most people have moved to myspace or facebook
I tried em both, they don't have much of a soul
LJ has a soul
Maybe because it's been around longer
Mabye because of the quality of blogger it has/had (present company excluded, i know i havent written)
The world is starting to feel more and more dumbed down
Child proof
Controlled
Don't smoke anywhere in Illinois, the hall monitors will get you
The holidays passed quietly
Other than the blip that is my annual visit with the family
They weren't even interested
C'est la vie.
Anhelo in nox noctis.

buy NIN - Year Zero.
do not hesitate
go now
that is all

Its 2:43 a.m. and the light is wrong in this room
One of my blues popped earlier in the night
causing me to curse the demons who obviously did it.
So with only one blue instead of two, there is an odd
shadow to everything around me.
My cigarette lights the same, but the dance of the smoke
is throwing me into a trance.
SNAP OUT OF IT
Yes. You.
Anyway, work is work, im back in a happy place in my factory
as happy a place as ive found in that hell.
Marriage hasn't changed me, and i dont know if thats odd or not.
I'm more protective, but my wiring is the same.
Some would say cross wired, others would say shorted, but I
say the wiring works so don't play with the wires.
Peace.

So it seems that WoW has a community here as well. Makes sense. Don't know why I never thought of it before. *Waves to WoW community*
New year, everyone's still alive.
Heh, update :P

Hey.
I'm going to visit my mother today for the first time in about 11 months.
She now has six months of sobriety, a new age dawning.
I've been alive 30 years now (almost ;)) and this is the longest stretch shes done.
I'm used to her ruining the holidays in one way or another.
So I am of course braced for that.
My mind is a coiled spring, waiting for the first sign of trouble.
I've recently made known to my family the distance they've created.
It was a hard thing to face, but it had to be done.
My blood with them has always run thin,
because i was the secret no one wanted to speak.
I was never treated like anyone's child,
a ward of the state until I was 18.
They had to pay my family to take care of me.
I knew as a child, because my expenses were pointed out to me in that manner.
"We got 110 dollars for you this month, so we can go school shopping for you now"
They didn't know how much that hurt.
They never will understand.
It only comes up now because with my mothers sobriety comes realizations.
She begs for forgiveness that shes always had.
She sees with clean eyes how I grew up, how I had to.
She tells me hiding from me is part of the reason she could never stay clean.
Hiding from herself.
She was always mother, never a parent.
I am glad she's helping herself.
Living on her own now.
She has many moons to mend many wounds.
Peace for dreams.

My mother moved into an apartment today.
Shes living on her own for the first time in her life,
been clean/sober for four months straight,
which is more than shes had in 30 years, really.
Im proud of her for making it this far,
but I'm still a ball of caution because
of her many past attempts and failures at sobriety.
Christy made the point tonight that my mother
really doesn't "know" me or her, and shes right.
Mom spent so much time hiding in her haze
that she doesnt even know me now,
doesnt understand me as a mother should a son.
It's hard to put into words.
I've never really had a "mother" in the traditional sense
and now that she's clean and starting to act like one,
I feel strange and untrusting, but not without hope.
Hope that she stays the path.
Peace for dreams.

hey world, not feeling all that good right now,
stomach is acting up but i wanted to stop and say hi anyway.
my feet hurt from a long night at work and im drained.
more tomorrow, peace.

It's been brought to my attention that
my last 20 journal entries span 2 years time.
It made me smile actually, and im not sure why.
I found the eye of my madness and stayed there a while.
Not a bad place really, calm, quiet.
I stand now at the wall of said eye,
ready to taste the blur again.
I locked myself out for a while, it happens in life.
My reasons were not entirely selfish...
who am I kidding, of course they were.
I gave my life to the online page for a long time,
before it became passe, even, if there was such a time.
I went dark, offline when the world got connected,
coming back only to keep the journal alive,
give it a heartbeat, no matter how distant it sounds.
I'm working with the words again, easier each day.
Peace for dreams.

Strange weekend weather wise.
Was about 80 on saturday, 80 and raining sunday.
Today, high of 70, low of 45 expected tonight.
Its Illinois, what can I say.
If you dont like the weather, wait five minutes
Bears won yesterday.
Harvick won too.
So it was a sweep for sports this weekend, hehe.
Felt kinda shitty yesterday/fluish, lingering today as well.
On that note im gonna rest for an hour or so before work.
Peace

It started innocently enough.
I found the pile of notebooks in a box.
Worn, familiar books.
Composition marble face, college ruled.
One even had the trademark pen attached.
Pilot G-2 05 black.
The warmth of black.
One says Malakai,
One says AMATEUR in bold, angry script.
When you touch a page, if you do it right
you can tell the mood of the person writing.
Follow the penstroke, feel its depth, its pitch.
Words can tell you a lot.
Words tell things you sometimes don't want them to.
Words never lie, unless writ by a liar.
To the notebooks...
I fanned through about five of them.
My mind was ahead of my hands, spinning now.
Thousands of pages, my life through my eyes.
Heights, valleys... a blur of black ink.
All the therapy in those books.
The pain, the love, the extremes tasted.
The words went with the war.
But wars never really end, do they.
Faces, participants change, but war is always there.
War is always here.
The blood in these pages will always be here.
Stained permanently in black ink.
More blood will flow, because it has to.
I needed to ramble
The crickets in the back needed to hear something anyway.
Bleed black ink, it will save your soul.

Myspace.com brought emo music out of the garage and into the hearts of angsty teens everywhere.
Emo is destroying music.
Who let this happen?

Been sick most of the weekend with some kind of ridiculous stomach flu. It's starting to finally subside, just in time for the work week. We had a few inches of snow show up out of nowhere today, looks like it might be melted by tomorrow. Fuckin illinois weather, can't ever get two days the same. Played a lot of F.E.A.R. and Neverwinter Nights this weekend, too bitchy and feeble to do much else. I am the worlds biggest baby when i'm sick, and it is self admitted. I'm always torn between wanting pampered and wanting left alone to my misery. The mind can be an interesting place sometimes. Peace for dreams.

BURn - written and performed by Trent Reznor, and my motherfucking anthem

he was sweet child good birth weight was quiet and kept to himself

this world rejects me
this world threw me away
this world never gave me a chance
this world gonna have to pay

i don't believe in your institutions
i did what you want me to
i'm like the cancer in the system
i've got a little surprise for you

something inside of me
has opened up its eyes
why did you put it there
did you not realize
this thing inside of me
it screams the loudest sound
sometimes i think i could

burn

burn

i look down at where you’re standing
flock of sheep out on display
with all your lies bumped up around you
i can take them all away

something inside of me
has opened up its eyes
why did you put it there
did you not realize
something inside of me
it screams the loudest sound
sometimes i think i could

i'm gonna burn this whole world down

i'm gonna burn this whole world down

i never was a part of you burn
i was a soldier, i never was a part of you burn
i am corruption, i never was a part of you burn
i am the angel, i never was a part of you burn
of your destruction, i never was a part of you burn
i am perversion, i never was a part of you burn
secret desire, i never was a part of you burn
i am your future, i never was a part of you burn
swallowed up in fire

next stop (reality)
.
My eyes are bleeding between blinks,
leaving a crusted river of scars down my cheeks.
Standing at a crossroad called home,
breathing lifes collected exhaust into hapless lungs
as time passes me by faster with each diesel breath
I pollute your air with. Reality is relative to situations,
to eyes that aren't mine. The road leading forward
is blind with a midnight curl that shows the darkness
of a jungle in heat. Comforting, warm on my skin,
I walk with tired feet always onward.
Looking for the next door to your reality,
the next moment of hope to shatter beneath the weight
of my words. Blood stains the path behind,
a new road home.
.
end
.
Malakai

woven

www.life.com
www.me.com
www.you.com
.
we are digital
numbers on a page
on a screen
to blind our eyes
from truth in numbers
faith in chaos
we can change the future
by learning from the present
the past is a dead memory
learn and move on
insistent
for brighter lights
faster switches
quicker relays
learn from the number
one
.
our future is coming
babies with bar codes
serial numbers behind your eyes
our present is coming
cloning
another me
another you
fight for your soul
we are technological convenience
easy access lives
for easy access minds
remember the number
one
.
switch
wheres your screen name
when hes got the gun to your head
when they take the children from bed
murder by numbers
and you're surfing the web
.
www.conquest.com
www.war.com
www.famine.com
www.death.com
and then there were four
riding fiber optic horses
looking for a number
is it yours?
are you the one?
.
end
.
Malakai

I opened my eyes to March light today. It was unexpected, but no more so than when February crept up only 28 days ago. I could spill words about my family, but thats not my place anymore, theyve destroyed themselves beyond words, and I will be in awe of that moment for a long time. I tried tracing my bloodline about a week ago but ran into the dead end known as my "grandmother" who is alive and well but doesn't even know my name really. She is a grandmother to one instead of the five that she should have been kind to. I really dont know why I call them my family, because they didnt raise me, they didnt teach me anything about life other than what not to do. Getting married July 8th, in Las Vegas, Nevada. Christy has brought me light for 3 years, and I only hope that she can continue to do so for the rest of my days. My mothers health is stable/unstable depending on the day of the week, the level of attention she is getting, and which way the wind is blowing. I now have 7 1/2 years in at the factory. Interesting how time accelerates after 25. I would go into world politics, but thats such a joke these days, I wont waste the words. Writing feels good, make my heart jump and warms the blood. Peace for dreams.