Battle Suits

When life is shaping up to be another day in Armageddon, I have different ways of preparing. There are the obvious preparations like eating healthy and dressing for the occasion; then there are the more obscure things like mental preparation and adorning your battle suit. Probably sounds silly, but over the years I have pieced together a “battle suit” that really helps when life becomes difficult. It’s also a staple for me…when my family, friends, or roomates see me in this suit they know to tread softly.

So what’s my battle suit? Bare feet, plain cargo shorts and bright Hawaiian shirt. If you were to see me sitting cross-legged somewhere..yup, that’s my battle stance. Silly and strange? Yes…but believe it or not it helps. On a mental level it helps to associate certain things with strength, so when the battle comes you will be more prepared.

Writing this post got me thinking–while the original title was “My Battle Suit”, I’m curious if others do something similar? Do you have a battle suit? Maybe a sentimental scarf, special shoes (girls, high-heels?), or actual plate armor?

I’d love to read what you think!

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The Chase

Don’t be fooled. Don’t let yourself be taken
By thoughts or false pretense.
For I am who I am–I cannot be someone else.

What I am is pale skin, warm flesh and blood;
My hair, brown. My teeth, white.
My face on Monday mornings–a sight.

But that’s what I am, so different from who..
Who am I? And who are you??
Like mass amnesia–we haven’t a clue.

Born groping for an answer,
To a question without name.
So we wonder about what’s round us, and shun the inner pain.

Like a puppy chasing its tail,
Or a detective on the case.
It doesn’t matter, it couldn’t matter.. All we are is a face.

So like a puppet, or a parrot..or any creature that repeats!
“I am who I am–” and who I am hates me.

Incoming Rant (#1)

What’s the deal with people?

In earnest, my heart bleeds for humanity. This will not be easy to write, as every word is directed at myself more than those around me. But how can I keep these thoughts caged within my mind any longer? Take a dive with me..into the rantings of a mad man.

Since when did apathy replace passion? How many times have we faced an emotional situation with a blank stare? The crying homeless, the terminally ill, the abused children, the frightened parents..do they mean nothing to us? Once I theorized that people–if given the chance–would choose to remove those “lesser fortunate” than themselves from society in an effort to quiet their conscience. But people have proven me wrong…they remove “society rejects” on the subconscious level. Why would you ignore a fellow human being!?

And what’s with the inverse shift in human relationships? The closer someone is to our heart, the more we hurt them and are hurt by them. We hold a stranger’s opinion at a higher tier of acceptance than a close friend’s. In light of this, why even have friends? Choosing to let someone inside your heart and head only ends in pain. Holding the world at an arms length is secure enough, but why do we choose the first?

Finally, why do we feel the need to subjugate ourselves to “the system”? Everyone complains about a higher power–from the parent’s home rules to the workplace policies and upward to the legislative process–we hate it. Our very core rebels and yearns to break free from these cords. But….at the same time…we want those cords. Within our very insecure souls is a little flame for organization and established order. What sense does that make!? The raging beast is quelled by the tiny flame…

Yet another day where I see humanity as a broken mirror. No matter how long you look at the many fractures–all you see is yourself.

No Name, No Face, No Voice, No Heart

No name, no face, no voice, no heart.
Monsters are prowling in the winter’s dark.
They want, they need. They know no end.
Floating, gliding; always leaving their mark.

Listen to those who speak wise words
For they know when the spirit world has stirred.
So when ghouls moan in midnight black,
The wise men will translate those sounds unheard.

One night I felt a spectre’s screech.
It was cold and violent, but echoed grief
Like an old bell mourning friends past.
Once the audience, now I felt the thief.

A silent sound, this work of art
Which broke through my dreams and woke me with start.
I closed my eyes–but then I saw
“No name, no face, no voice, no heart.”

Writer

It’s No Problem At All

So you want me to hold your hand,
While mine are broken and bleeding?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to move mountains,
While you refuse to lift a pea?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to squeeze feelings
From this heart you’ve turned to stone?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to save money,
While you spend it like it’s yours?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to understand,
While you never make any sense?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to submit and follow,
While you never take the lead?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to smile and never complain,
While “Grumbling” is your middle name?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to steal the moon and lasso the stars,
While you’re never happy with anything?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

So you want me to love you,
While you don’t know what that means?
Sure, that’s no problem.
Not a problem at all.

Writer