The unpredictable, unreliable opinion of Isaac

2006-06-24T01:43:00.000-03:00

Standing on my pedestal amidst the pounding waters I gaze, north-west, into the never ending layers of color, cloud, sun, stars, trees, and water. Pillars of rain beneath shining clouds smudge wide vertical drapes. The rain blends one section of sky into another as though a painter brushed his thumb down across an unfinished pastel picture. I would fly into the heights of it, and swim in its raw perfection. Spray from the waves hits me; wind carries me; everything kisses me. I see the fullness of satisfaction in the fullness of the sunset. The world no longer hurts, and the entire universe is explained. I am satisfied, and all is good. I experience this moment forever, I realize infinity, eternity, death, and life.
My body remains north, and my head turns from north-west to north-east. Suddenly the wind that was blowing across my face crashes directly into my left ear, like rage and thunder. Overcome by the passionate, angry roar I stare directly into perfect anti-thesis of all that I just experienced. Waves lash out at the sky and the sky smites them, bends them, and blows them to pieces. Monstrous storm clouds pour they're fury on the sea below stirring all consuming swells and whitecaps. All pain is there, and within me. I am lashed by water and red stripes of dying sun bleed across the horizon. I am there, and I am the storm, I am the anger.
By animal impulse I cut my head west. The sounds ceases, and the wind turns from torment to refreshing.
Soft rain and sweet songs. Pelican soars, and heavens rejoice.
My head turns back.
Noise, chaos, everything dark.
Back and forth I turn my head. Each time my head turns the deafening roar switches off and on like night and day.
I face north, and stop gazing. I stop facing and start feeling. I become one with both universes. Both universes become no universe. Nothing is everything, I am nothing.
I come back to my pedastal with a jolt. Duty calls and I return to my work. I still contain the everything.

2006-04-19T22:55:00.001-03:00

Leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, I absorb the glorious sunshine. My hands continue to massage sunscreen into my skin, to no avail. My sweat carries the creamy white oil to the surface undaunted. I am content.
The sun continues to rain on me the sweet rays of God's approval as I leisurely sip away at my lemonade, leaving my oily white prints upon the stenciled images of palm trees.
The large deck surrounding the pool is quite comfortably sparse. There are only a few others, like me, drinking lemonade from matching glasses. The pool, however, contains countless millions. They wallow and struggle for a piece of air, much less food or drink.
They call to me, pleading for help, for provisions, and for love. I am deeply and sincerely moved.
I stand and, feeling such perfect and selfless love, I applaud them. I sit again to write them a song - praising them for they're strength, beauty, and infinite worth.
As I sing for them, the scream and claw at the air, dying by the thousands.
Moved again by they're determination, I shout encouragement to them. I even call one of my neighbors attention to they're situation, showing him how urgently those people need relief.
They hear none of it over they're screams.

Having done all that I can I recline again, rejoicing in my good fortune. Blissfully I absorb the sweet, warm rays of God's approval.

2006-03-30T13:09:00.000-04:00

By this we all are blind or all may see
It turns the hardest ice to flowing tears
The object of desire which all things need
upon our skin it burns the scars of years

Though all things breathe and grow because of this
All hard and broken ground has this to blame
From off afar it warms each mid-day kiss
and then with spite illuminates they're shame

Though bitter and betrayed I'd not forsake
the good and bad which from this monster flows
For cold and dark this world, it's lack, would make
as every dove transformed to blackened crow

Though fools may think this said of star above
I speak not of the sun - I speak of love

no hinge

2006-03-29T16:04:00.000-04:00

I'm no great pharoh of egypt
Though I'm wrapped in white linen - I sewed it for extra warmth within my sleeping bag
The bag itself is "mummy style" - no hinge or lid - just a zipper
from my left shoulder to my right ankle
My tent, as well, is shaped like a perfect Egyptian sarcophagus
The bag, the tent, the rain cover - three thin caskets
I have no horses or slaves buried here with me
but I've carved the names of friends in trees
each tree a silent comfort as I sleep

I have no "valley of the kings" - but I'll be remembered
no great Pharoh of Egypt
just a poet in the woods

Yuppie of Heaven

2006-03-28T14:44:00.000-04:00

I reached out to the twittering bird with my fingers
She touched my nail with her beak - even a little peck at my flesh
Lightly perched on a twig, still chirping, she spoke english words to me

I was awestruck, and responded "Who are you"

Each of the dark grey feathers that covered her wings and back was intricately lined with brighter shades of metallic silver
Her light grey breast was lined with a rich black
Bright colored eyes looked at me from within the ruby-red feathers that graced her head

"Yuppie" she answered
First I thought it was a strange name for such a graceful bird

"Yuppie of Heaven" she added

Realizing what she was, I blurted "I've NEVER talked to an angel"

"This is my first time" She shyly stated "Visiting a human, I mean"

Trying to joke I said "I guess that would make me a virgin of the divine"

As she kindly responded I awoke - in my tent - once again to the sound of birds
I waited in anticipation hoping she would appear to me in the real world
Suddenly a bird began an unmistakably angelic song above my tent

I opened my mouth and shouted "Yuppie!" - but I didn't hear my own words
I was cut off by the morning church bells

So close to a message from above - but cut off by time - by those glorious church bells
So much irony it almost pleases me

Distant memories from moments ago

2006-03-27T13:27:00.000-04:00

I woke up to sound of hourly church bells
Finally a dry sunny day
I could hear the birds flying in trees around me
Geese were playing and fighting in the giant lake, next to my home

By the time I got out of my tent it was church bells again
I packed my beautiful new tent and hid all my possessions under leaves by a tree

Pushups, stretch, eat, churchbells
Just me and my water bottles ran a few miles to a fast food joint, for water
When I returned my bags were lovingly waiting for me
I was proud to show how I had gotten water

I could hear the churchbells as I laid nude beneath the sun, by my very own lake
I excercised, did chinups in trees, still naked, and to the sound of church bells again

I put on my flip flops, and clothes and headed towards the road, cutting my bare toes on thorns

I couldn't hear the church bells as I walked down the train tracks
I could see the never ending lines, the trees, and the tall tan grass
I could smell the flowers I carried in my hand
They were red and white- I took from a garbage can, at a graveyard
I could feel the tears hit the cuts on my toes - the tears were caused by the flowers
I could hear my water bottle hitting the buckle on my pack
The church bells were far - and time no longer exist

I came across a pile of dry, scattered, ivory bones
I couldn't tell what creature had been hit by the train, but it was beautiful
probably an angel
I left a small red rose - just in case

Eventually I came to a road, I turned towards town
A beautiful girl with her boyfriend stopped at a stoplight beside me
She was wondering where I was bringing those flowers - she tried in vain to hide her smile
I pertended to hide my smile, as I gave her a small wink
She hid her reaction from the boy on her left

I came across a house with a sprinkler, just barely spurting water
I removed my pack and sandals, sneaking out back to turn up the water
Very refreshing shower - but I got caught

When I came across a dead robin on the white sidewalk, I removed the one last rose
from my hand-full of flowers
A little lady with white hair giggled at my gesture

All this to say, I've reached the library- my inbox full of messages
Each email hurting me from a different angle
I have no flowers - I left them outside
I have no church bells - the time of day is coldly written at the bottem of my screen

God, I hope somebody gives me a rose

2006-03-25T14:06:00.000-04:00

I just thought I would update you folks on my status, since I left Canada. I feel like God elude's me, more like a ghost than anything. Wearing my backpack I feel out of place, but it seems almost like everybody purposefully will not acknowledge my presence; this adds to my feeling of isolation. I'm in the city of Dover, delaware. Iv'e stopped in about 8 or 9 towns so far, and this seems the most welcoming. It has more trees than the other towns. Honestly, it's sickening how little nature I have seen traveling here. It's almost as though all of america has become cold, and industrial. As I look at all the pipelines, factories, bulldozers, billboards, sports-cars, transport trucks, and pavement, I feel like I will never have a place, or role to play in such a sick society. It makes me feel like I don't even have a role to play on earth, like there's no way I can offset the meaningless destruction we are doing to ourselves.
It's funny how sobered I feel, I'm sure I have heard 30 kids cry while they're parents ignore them or scream at them. Iv'e been openly lied to a dozen times (mostly in New York). I havn't had a meaningful conversation with anybody, though one or two people have been kind to me.
I certainly wasn't planning on keeping people updated on the small events that happen to me, but I guess I wasn't planning not to either. I may or may not continue to post, or have the opportunity to do so for that matter. I have a 30 day library card in this little town, and I may be around long enough to see what this town has to offer me, and maybee what I have to offer it.
Everytime Iv'e had an adventure, in my life, it always starts out hard. But things always seem to get better. I sure hope so, cause I feel lost.
I look forward to growing in personal strength, peace, and self confidence.

with tears
Isaac

I'm a dove

2006-03-24T07:53:00.001-04:00

Home is not a place where I can rest
Nor have I rest in any place I've been
A wandering dreamer on empty quest
or minstrel who wanders without a dream

Of course, I have no road on which to roam
or song to sing to God for warmth at night
Scattered abroad are all the seeds I've sown
and cursed by men are all the words I write

I'm lost inside and searching to be found
I'm throwing fate to wind, of self to learn
I hear the drums I'm following the sound
I need the truth that's why we must adjourn

The world is trapped aboard a sinking rig
and I'm the dove who's looking for a twig

In the streets

2006-03-16T14:01:00.000-04:00

When my rod hits your skin you sing to me
A song that has no notes but muffled screams
And all my limbs touch all your limbs at once
I sweat with you, I sweat and your skin gleams

I've wrapped you up in cloth, and with my hands
I've placed pillows beneath your smooth white head
I have no shame with you without my pants
I look at you with love from in my bed

I'll pound you with such force and lightning speed
I'll bang you with such grace my childhood sweet
Through, with closed doors in dark we do our deeds
The sounds we make will echo in the streets

I'd not trade you for ass or lips or tit
No lover could compare to my drum kit

2006-03-13T22:44:00.000-04:00

I know romance is not yet dead but sleeps
Like dragon slumbers 'neath the city's heart
Though we'd embalm true love like conquered beast
or cast away like leper to the dark

Why can't we live in fantasies and dreams?
Where lovers run barefoot and play guitars
To live amongst the rivers and the trees
To make a fire and love beneath the stars

I would prefer, I think, to live outside
What harm could one man do by living free?
With only one wall - on the windward side
and life a small step from eternity

I hope romance is not yet dead, but sleeps

Though we've embalmed ourselves like conquered beast

A eulogy of a previous life

2006-02-21T22:47:00.000-04:00

Before I died I was another man
Before I died I had another love
A demi-god, a pearl among the damned
as radient in beauty as the sun

A reincarnate dove, I'm sure she was
with eyes a greenish gold of cleanest hues
But he, the damned, the vanquished god of mud
could not perceive the beauty of his muse

And now that I, not he, lives in this flesh
I see his error clear and hot as blood
The moon is full, forever more to rest
The eulogy of my old self is done

Like angels turn to ghost when moon turns full
she's not my love, and twice as beautiful

Skin on skin

2006-02-20T15:14:00.003-04:00

When by the lack of yours my hand is lone
It's emptier than if it lacked it's blood
And if together our two hands were sewn
They'd hold this pen and write about our love

Our lips, if joined, would light so bright a glow
To silhouette our form upon the walls
Both perched like lips on flutes to softly blow
crisp notes to turn dry cliffs to waterfalls

A fire burns from me to you to me
with Flames composed of Wind and Ice and Sand
With skin on skin our eyes are closed but see
So full of strength but lack the strength to stand

A match more full than any perfect rhyme
is your sweet body tightly pressed to mine

Sunday afternoon blues

2006-02-19T14:35:00.000-04:00

I admitted today that I am happy.
But I promise I'm TRYING to quit.

Happiness has been my antidepressant pill - changing the chemicals in my brain
Causing me to overlook my own empty purposelessness which rots me from within.

Happiness has kept me in a comfortable haze for years.
Only now that the smoke clears do I realize how bleak and barren is this coliseum
in which I stand center stage

The applause which has always drove me forward has merely been my own giddy guffawing
echoing off the cold stone chairs - slowly trailing off into the black night sky

Happiness is my favorite painkiller
But pain is our most powerful defense mechanism.
It's what tells us that something in our environment needs immediate change.

This antidepressant pill which I swallow daily - with a spoon full of sugar
is destroying me like leprosy of the mind.

These Branches: extended

2006-02-13T05:25:00.000-04:00

To a nimble squirrell this is a maze of unlimited possibilities
To him a pearl cannot equal these branches
The world is his oyster but he prefers these trees

A shattered fantasy exist when I leap from these twigs - grasp leaves like straws
and reunite the dirt.
Likewise this little acrobat exist
as messy roadkill when he strays from his natural trapeze
and roams the streets of man.

Isaac

Monstors of the Deep

2006-02-13T05:24:00.000-04:00

In the illumination of shallow waters I can see pretty silver fish
It's easy to keep warm as I float in my piss

As I look out at the darkness which equals depth in this river
I imagine unspeakable beast which I'm told live there
Monstorous fish, black as hell
with black eyes for watching and fangs in mouths that won't tell

I never imagine they can kill me - I wouldn't fear them if they could
But they are unseen, and unpretty - unlike the things I have known to be "good"

In the illumination of shallow waters I can see pretty silver fish.
It's easy to keep warm as I float in my piss.

There is a shallow water raft - if I don't want to swim
And a square of buoys that hold nothing - but it holds me in

In the dark deep there are no gaurentees
No direction, no marked borders.

All things considered I would rather sink or swim
Then to die in the buoys from a slip in seagull shit

How I feel today, and many other days

2006-02-13T04:56:00.000-04:00

People watch the ocean with pounding waves and love it's power.
But everybody fears the undertow which can drag them out to sea.
Am I as decieving and dangerous a trap as the beautiful ocean?

I am often called bold, exciting, free, wild.
But I feel loved like an animal is loved at the zoo.
If the my cage dissappears will you shoot me as quickly?

Everybody feels for Edward Scissorhands, and Anne of Green Gables when we watch them on TV.
If either came into our town, would you drive them away?

I reach in to every life I see, only to have my hand slapped or cut off.
I honestly don't know which of the two is worse.

I know I can't free anybody from the chains that they embrace, but why do you try to tame me? to chain me?

Nobody can take the life out of me. But it still hurts everytime.
Everybody seems to think that an infrangible wild beast like me can't be hurt.
But I do, and I will