Paratroopers (Random thoughts and poetry)

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Hope its okay and this is the right section. Im going to post some of my writing up here because for me its actually a lot more clear when i speak in metaphor or in rhyme than it is for me to come right out and say whats on my mind. Just always been easier on paper, or on the digital airwaves i guess in the case of the net. Somehow words when theyre spoken unless its by certain people or in a certain format like music it always comes across as rough and somehow not as meaningful. I guess because of so many people ive ran across in my life that use words to wound and mame and lie, or for their own personal gain it made them ugly somehow to me and i cant get that out of the back of my mind.

Ive wrote since i was 14 at least i think thats when i started writing or whatever you call what i do. Sometimes ill get inspired and the thoughts just come and i type them up. i cant for example sit down and say okay im going to write something, it just sort of happens, almost like im channeling some inner part of myself or something else entirely. The reason i call them paratroopers is thats what it feels like a bunch of guys jumping out of a plane they come so fast sometimes. Thats why i have to type them also instead of trying to write them. If i try to write by hand with a pencil or pen id lose my train of thought before i even got halfway through.

All this is neither here nor there and i dont even know why im writing all this. Just going to use this as a place to post and vent and throw up my random thoughts as they occur.


I wish i knew how to break free of this existence. Its been this way for years. I know im not the only one here. But it sure feels that way. I can talk to people, but its not really talking. Its more like echo location so i dont hit another wall.

Ill say hey how are you? And they say oh ok let me move out of your way. And they do

... then i never hear from them again, its like they fade out of existence.

When im plain spoken, nobody knows what im talking about

but thats okay, they wouldnt hang around anyway. Because nobody gives a shit anymore, its just the way things are. Unless youre 20 years old and ready to take on the world and light it on fire. And thats been a long time ago too.

Tired of fake people, and faux conversations that last longer than they should and waste my time. My loneliness is turning into hate, and that makes me sad.

The part of me that stands back and watches all this happen keeps shaking its head at what this life has become. It doesnt speak anymore either because im pretty sure it doesnt know what to say about all this.

I hope in some other universe. Some other me, has a lot of friends, has meaning in their life.

I hope their kids love them,
and theyre happy with their wife.
I hope time keeps marching on.
And they can meet the sunrise,
and smile at the seeds theyve sewn.

I hope so many things
I dream in colored rays
but it doesnt really mean anything
its just a parade of days

meaning doesnt dress up
doesnt come out to play
hard to keep on breathing
nothing left to say

no bloody wrists
no bottled pills
no happy lists
and eyes that kill

lined up on the walls
mirrors in the dawn
rising baked on clouds
i must of got it wrong

all this time
i thought i knew the way
i must of been mistaken
its just another day

just another time piece
latched onto the wall
hanging onto meaning
thats never there at all

and i cant help but believe you
because theres nothing else
when you say that youll save me
but you need a little help

but theres no help coming

theres no second chance
im always just alone here
life is a dead thing
when its filled with fear

It ends like it began
with confusion.


You dont have to talk to me
Or acknowledge who i am
you dont have to guide me
to the promised land

You dont need to help me
You shouldnt even care
Im just another passing glance
Looking for a stare

Im just a spec of dust
trapped inside your eye
You dont have to humor me
you dont have to say hi

Passing glances in vacant lands
Mist through trees
Theres little parts and bits of fog
That nobody can see

What it feels like
you can not know
Where it lives
you can not go

To speak to you is madness
To ask for a rope or a map
only draws it further
right behind your lap

In the hollow cheek
the bitter tongue
the swollen eye
the voice of mung

in dark alleys
and wasted streets
nobody hears
presses on or retreats

To build and build and build
and never reach the sky
To crumble and fall and skitter down
but never able to die

Fizzle out
but theres no flame
enter a room
but you have no name

Stand aside
but youre not there
pull out your eyes
Rip out your hair

Doesnt exist on the page of books
they dont realize they should even look
they dont care
they dont know why
they dont call
and they dont cry

Birds fly south
winter goes north
the seasons pass
as they sally forth

wrote it off
like it had a name
called it out
like a childrens game

but it cant be known
and it cant be felt
not bought with power
or infinite wealth

None of these things
can cure the shade
blot out the sun
and hide the rage

of no eyes seen
no mouth heard
no screams were uttered
not even a word

It dwindles down
it is reborn
does not exist
it has no form

a word
a phrase
uttered in silence
no connections made

No electricity
no turn to gold
stand on mountains
dont feel the cold

to not exist
and know this shame
id have to be real
do you know my name?

Its doubtful that youve heard of me
you went out of your way to walk around
Its doubtful that you know me
to you i was just a clown

Have you met my companion loneliness?
He stays at home with me
In the gutters and the hidden ways
that none of you can see

He seeks beauty and hope,
and light and form
I have none of those
i am a worm

Burrowing deep
And digging down
Beneathe the soul
Behind the crown

Of sunsets
and dreams
splenderous things
nobodys seen

because they dont take time
they dare not ask
who are you?
behind the mask

In your bubbled expanse
in your careless worlds
in space you sail
your life unfurled

across the ocean
each other in tow
youre beautiful to me
but youll never know

in the dark i sit
i wait it out
i wait and wait
im thin and stout

from passing time
that knocked me down
it called my name
but none was found

I became a man
but i wasnt born
I made it up
useless life i mourn

Inside my head
that doesnt exist
behind my eyes
i subsist

on things i see
on boxes
in cars
from distant fields
i count my scars

but you dont notice
and you dont care
the days go by
and youre not there

doesnt matter to you
doesnt hurt at all
lifes a big party
big gala ball

formal dress
I cant express
as i die a little more
in the corner

Mindless worlds
on backs of clouds
emptiness kills
but not outloud

no voices here
to say hello
the pain we hide
they can not know

scream and yell
and pound your chest
youre breaking now
theres nothing left

but inside the box
in the back of your mind
there is a wonder
you will find

the face of god
has not forgot
itll be okay
real life is not

like this
its just a dream
inside the carpet
along the seam

sew it up
and zip it shut
the passing days
have left a rut

still time goes onclickity
tap tap tap tap
on the back of your skull
as you take a dirt nap

On a long winding road
on the dell by the hill
in the holler out back
where empty sits still

lets you pet it
caress it and bleed
lets you sit beside
yet still you concede

please believe in me
but nobody saw
and the velveteen rabbit
let out a gafaw

is all quite laughable
its all quite sad
the time in nowhere
can drive you quite mad

made up of pillow talk
and willing good intent
but nobody heard it
and on the days went

like laquer on poster board
pictures were made
nobody could see
that finally fade

Ive tried and tried and tried and tried
ive died and died and died and died
reborn and fly
fall down again
original faith
plagarized sin

hellfire and mollasses
sticky wet eyes
in the dark somewhere


That moment when you realize your life has no meaning except as an example to others of everything they dont want to be. And theres nobody to talk to but the voices in your head or characters on old tv shows you watch. That moment of silence just before you take matters into your own hands and end up in some epic poem about dysfunctionality and loss at the ravages of time. You want to ask for help but you dont know how to word it so that it doesnt sound so pathetic and needy. You stand on the edge of the cliff just like so many before you, you want to scream but nothing comes out, you want to cry but theres no tears. You strain against reality pressing against the fold, trying to pull back the covers youve got over your head so the proverbial boogy man doesnt get you. Hours, days, weeks, months, years pass. Nothing changes. Its you and this hollow feeling in your gut telling you to give up, and you keep on trying, despite everything in yourself telling you to quit, every fiber of your being telling you this sittuation warrants an escape clause in the form of a gun to the back of your skull.

You cant move forward, no use looking back, the words wont come and youre eeking out some sort of existence here on the prescipice of the end of everything. You crave death but even that seems like a fever dream. Loneliness doesnt even scratch the surface of what this is, and no psychology book has a name for whatever this is going on in your head. Youre not text book, youre not a number, not a test dummy for the newest thing made by proctor and gambel and piped down the assembly line. Major industry, where they save souls one premeditated overmedicated tragedy at a time. And you wonder what its like to be powerful, to feel alive and be able to break free from all this to step beyond yourself and your inability to even hear about the big picture, much less see it.

Were all so insignificant here amongst the black smoke and burning buildings of past victories. I dont even think at this stage of human evolution its about winning or losing, hell its not even about surviving. Its not letting this so called world turn you into their idea of whats acceptable. To the zombies shuffling through the checkout lines bloated on human suffering thats pumped to them through tubes the media had installed in our homes from birth. Control mechanisms sewn into our clothing in the asscheek of america at walmart or a billion other chain stores. You ever really think about why theyre called chains? It just gets to be too much sometimes. Sitting in this room pretending. Pretending i know what the hell im doing or who im supposed to be, or even who im not supposed to be. Dumbing myself down more and more so i can hold a conversation with people a week from now wont even remember my name.

As time goes on well be more and more connected, to the system but not each other. Eventually we'll all be ghosts in the machine plodding along praising the newest product for that week scraping out our wallets with bloody hangnails to buy whatever attrocity theyre shoving down our throats as of late. When good grammar and punctuation becomes more valuable than human life then somethings wrong and its time to fight. But how do you fight a monster this big? Its bigger than you and me, its bigger than anything ive seen in books or on tv even in religious manuals that are supposed to be the key to getting through this. Theres no real answers because the world says theres no threat. But im here to tell you there is. And its time for a revolution.

Only God knows when its coming, but I hope it gets here soon...................



stinkfist in the water
the hatch is going down
nothing but cold laughter
silent as they drown

im inside the pressure valve
i am made of glass
a ready made explosion
no shelter from the blast

I am not your enemy
i am not your friend
figment of imagination
headed for the end

helmet filled with madness

stage lights
weathered doors
shut them all
hinges scream what for

rust is in your blood flow
calcium deposit brain
melted in my goggles
washing down the drain

and i dont need your pity
i dont want your stink
take your rabid bullshit
and drown it in the sink

fuck the alma matter
the songs sung at the end
the worst insult of living
is that one word friend

its not like they understand me
or even give a damn
its not about the money
or the laws of man

its just a happy wannabe
passing by in time
listening to the whispers
floating through the rhyme

it doesnt have to make sense
its filled with glowing rage
and youll never know the cost
of just turning this page.

in a book that was never written


SophiaGrace said:
I enjoy reading your poetry.

Thanks sophia, im not even sure its really poetry, just thoughts that rhyme and fall out of my head, but it helps sometimes to write them down. I dont know if you know who HR geiger is, hes an artist does all this really twisted otherworldly looking stuff, hes the guy that designed the aliens in those movies with sigourney weaver. Anyway he had said that when he creates a painting or a sculpture its like hes releasing one of his demons.

I kinda feel like that with this, like im releasing something. Whatever it is i feel better afterwards so i keep doing it. I actually feel as weird as it is when i write im being more plain spoken than i am now. Product of my weird defective brain i guess lol.

Do you write or paint or anything like that?


Nuzzy Nuz said:
You are just awesome SHADETREE!!!! ♥ ♥_♥ ♥ Great work there :)

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. Glad you enjoyed it.


I am mesmerized by beauty
as my mind it gently drifts
belabored no more
by the daily shifts
of time and tide
and human whim
all these things
grow very dim
when in the light
of truth and peace
throughout this place
i find release

within myself
the beauty grows
within my heart
it somehow knows

There is meaning in everything.

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