Showing posts from May, 2013


No one will live up to you that final day. Your final embrace before the adieu Before the sentence that took me away. I compare the rest of my life to you.
Destiny is crushing me with Eden. Murdering me with my own happiness. I've built my own prison from my Elysium For our love I'm sentenced to hopelessness.
We began in a moment of crisis. What could have been infects what's left of me. Stealing my future with your dark virus. Impregnated with your reality.
Hope was my conquest. Dreams were my Zion. Now ambition is my purgatory and Hell grows within me. I am dying happily never after this story.
From behind these bars, I watch life go on. No more running to what others run from Going insane remembering what's gone  so that I no longer know who I am.
My nerves ache of everything I once felt. My veins throb at the thought of lost lives lived. I'm just a ghost now, my punishment dealt. Your voo-doo goodbye gave me life revised.
Who am I? No one.                     …

Who am I?

Who am I?

These days I feel buried. My life has change quite a bit lately, and along with some rather bad luck, I'm now sick with a sore throat, a lower back injury, and enough mental anguish at being trapped in the South that it takes every bit of strength to keep myself from literally losing it. I grimace at the flash-backs of places and events of the past as I compare them to the relativity of my current predicament (a bit of PTSD I suspect). I'm not actively trying to be depressed, in fact I'd love for it to be anything but that. Yet another day goes by, and here I am surrounded, at best, by a fog of numbness, or at worst: irrational loss of emotional and physical states. Truthfully, then there's the worst part of it all, not being able to tell anyone. Knowing attempts at explaining things to anyone leads them to just think you're nucking futz.

I'm not lamenting over yesterday, I'm completely broken both physically and emotionally. I've given all I ha…

The future is not a gift: it is an achievement.

“Geography is destiny”
-penned by Abraham Verghese (Cutting Stone).

Fate or free-will will decide the future of tourism led economies such as Dubai and Singapore. We’re all familiar with the strategic government manifested realities of these two cities. In the case of Dubai, the will and vision of a single sheik transformed dry, arid dessert into a Middle-Eastern Shangri-La oasis that aims to be the savior from the Dubai doomsday when the last drop of oil is siphoned from its sands. Is it possible America and Europe could retain its air superiority if they too chose courage instead of apathy? What becomes of destiny if we change directions?

There is however far more to the story. It involves side-burns, mustaches and the hero of our story, a Boeing 747. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times you could argue: the late seventies was a time when you could smoke on plane, airline food was horrible, but you could pack your entire wardrobe without a Ryan Air carry-on interrogator …