Moto

Well, it's a combination of truth and fiction. The car crash is a metaphor, although I was in an accident right before I wrote this, and the rest is truth with a gentle slope. I write "Slam Poetry" so it's really all about the delivery during the performance. Open Mic nights are my friend. Thanks ToV I may share more! Sorry for the bad response here. I forgot I posted this, and I have like a minute until I have to shower and make some food for our guests this evening. Hope you're doing well.

As Shane Koyczan would say... "The failing use of my right hand, is not actually the failing use of my right hand." I forget to make love to myself due to the fact my hand is cramped from writing, or typing. Here's a little diddy I wrote, that I don't want to go overlooked like almost all of my other work that I refuse to share... Enjoy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just Right -------------------------------------------------------------------------- These flashing lights amongst the pale spring night, I am wondering when everything ceased to be just right. There was an accident, a profoundly tragic incident. The victims involved were you and I. Now they're just waiting to see if we die with entrails around thighs... Looking at each other like lovers do for the first time, as if enjoying one final glass of wine; not remembering that stop sign... I mouth the words I love you. Luckily for us this might not be where our story ends, but the beginning of amends. As I lay there on my deathbed wishing for just one more chance, to tell you of romance. I’m brought into a trance. Back to the day I first looked upon your skin, your lips so fine and thin, wearing a suitable smile showing off their symmetry and revealing no denial. Your body language talking to me as if I was an Egyptian praising the red sea for the bountiful fish, I knew you were quite a dish... A real sexy plate of alfredo, daring me to say no. As I take my first glimpse of those eyes... The eyes that must have been equivalent to Shakespeare’s own Juliet’s, not glancing at me quite yet. No, not Juliet, I am looking upon divinity’s creation. What does she possibly see in me? When you finally looked my way, I did anything but stray. Those emerald beams now and forever will haunt each dream… Never in my life would I imagine blue and green so aligned, fixated on sharing a love divine, not just waiting in line for a chance to shine. You brushed your hair to the left, framing your face ever so picturesque; a portrait that would fixate a gaze through any haze, beyond metaphor or compare. Your hair defined the lines I would follow which would defy any stop sign, a curvaceous frame which already had well deserved fame, yet completely tame. I knew I was meant to be with this dame. You continued smiling my way, as if you were a child at play in the silky Alberta hay... You finally found the courage to speak; tightening this ship’s sail’s on a voyage that this boy wished was never ending. I will never forget this first word, like the first touch in foreplay... You said, “Hey”, as I walk over with a coy grin, an obvious ploy begins. Just then reverie escapes me, brought back to this reality. Surrounded by white, perhaps a light? I already knew something wasn’t quite right, was it still that night? I hear voices in the distance, and struggle to open my eyes for an instant. Surrounded by white, * * * * is it bright… I caught glimpse of the tiles far better suited to a bargain bin, with their power to erase smiles. As much as I wished for dissonance within this never ending consonance, I knew where I was. A place I knew where I would long to see your face, as much as I probably looked completely in disgrace… I was in the hospital. I couldn’t get you off of my mind, I attempted to shift and felt a grind. I scream in agony without the slightest hope of propriety. I hear rapid footsteps, and the sound of keys clashing… Thinking, “Probably the nurses dropping their purses”, I somehow grinned, although it felt thinned. “Are you awake, sir?” I groan, “Yes”, in recognition. I somehow knew I should have never inserted the key into the ignition… The injuries I sustained were being described, as I lay in distant disdain, looking at my own blood stain. I interrupt abruptly, “Where is my pearl, the girl?” I ask; a question that should have never escaped my lips. The news of your passing is forever relapsing. My body now mended, my heart forever torn asunder… I plunder into the depths of demise, misery apparent in my eyes. I refuse to believe this is where our story ends, unable to make amends. The fight that night… This is when everything ceased to be just right. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- - Jason Strauss I'd make a terrible author, I can only write things I personally like when I'm under the weather... Misery loves art, as I always say; or company.

Very wise words ready. I'm positive they will stick with me, and thank you ever so much. Hi ToV, I've been around the bend, back again... Here, there, everywhere but with no apparent purpose. Living it up and attempting to get my path finalized for the moment. Had a bit of a long distance relationship going on, and got dumped right before she was getting on the plane to come here for Christmas; a very wonderful holiday season I must say. Actually... The strange part is maybe this piece of writing is the only hurt I feel, or have felt since the day after. Ever flowing like the endless river, or so I'd like to think. How bout yourself? I also noticed that I switched perspective... I ended up liking it as that paragraph was meant to throw people off. Part of being full blown "agnostic", to attempt to symbolize how that part of my life leaves me confused also; as a belief system is always something hard to establish. Does it make sense with the symbolic purposes revealed? Oh, and I meant elusive... I think it's fun to look back on things you've done over the years, and rewrite the idea in an entirely new voice. Cross compare it, and enjoy what you've become. I thought everyone I knew here was long lost, very pleasant surprise ToV.

It feels very hypocritical of me to not condemn myself for it though. My initial perception, and evaluation of a person has never failed me... Nor has my gut feeling when I know something is going to go terribly wrong on days my world falls apart... I find it very easy to pick up on someone's personality, and end up reading them like a book. It's almost frightening when I attempt to give things a chance, and my initial gander into their person turns out to be ever so true. I do believe people can overcome anything if they have the willpower, but that is also where I'm a bit hard on myself because I feel I can tell who will and who won't, and that's what puts me in said place... It also makes me feel like I'm more pretentious than I wish to believe. Thank you again.

I figured this is something I would like to share. Possibly the easiest piece poetry I ever wrote. I have edited this over the years to keep it up to date, it is nothing like it used to be... Today I rewrote it to be quite shorter, about a quarter of the length, as most of it did not really apply to who I am today. Enjoy, and I enjoy constructive criticism as long as it's not about oxford comma's or anything too literary. ----------------------------- * * * * you Jason S*****s ----------------------------- Look at you in your shell. Afraid to let anyone in for what might be chimed. You're mean, quite often obscene; hiding in your quiet revelry, afraid of propriety. You escape through a virtual world, forgetting that you are in fact not a digital manifestation of awe inspiring power, but a man of the hour. It is you whom you've forgot, far from what you sought. Your judgmental eyes are all that you despise. Your all knowing hand sweeps through nations labeling individuals you have not yet met. Ready to call upon your own sheer willpower to perform acts of a god that you don't even believe or perceive; agnostic yet full of theistic literary rhetoric. You don't see god yet don't disprove him as with life and love he flows through your veins while you're busy being vain. Is love god? Thoughts flow through you ever so freely, yet even you don't believe in me. Love and the feelings inspired by that just might be me, what more proof do you need? You're so occupied by emotions forgetting your devotion, fueled by murderous filigree in this industrious sea. You're as evasive as the female orgasm, and filled with pretentious stoicism. You and I both know you have trouble in each department, so why try to come out of your apartment? Sterile and unable to bring life, you choose strife. The definition of manhood is not to plant your seed, it is to help those in need. You're as shallow as a shower and twice the vice; without even a poetic device. Attempts to make yourself seem prodigious leave others oblivious. You cut off your lifeline to reality in order to establish a mentality. Shock and awe are best left to the entertainment industry, for all you know you will end up in a refinery. Over the next few thousand years, although yet still unclear a purpose will be fulfilled even after you're long forgotten. Function without friction and jurisdiction; live for the moment and enjoy this atonement. Now * * * * you Jason S*****s, make a difference instead of a reference. ----------------------------- End ----------------------------- I quite enjoy writing self evaluations... It keeps me down to earth, and makes me realize my mistakes. Figured I'd share this one with the world even though I'm not too happy with it.