25 Things I've Learned In 25 Years

1. Life is filled with irony, dichotomy, and incredulity. 
2. Nothing will ever turn out exactly the way you expect. 
3. Finding yourself, embracing your identity, requires letting go of people’s opinions, normalcy, becoming comfortable with judgement, and not having everyone understand. 
4. Hurt people hurt people. 
5. Learning to forgive, and maintaining an air of detachment and indifference, can save you a lot of time and heartache. In the face of hurt, forgive. Try to understand your transgressors. 
6. Anger, hatred, resentment, envy, and jealousy are self-destructive. If you water their seeds (and they prefer tears over water) their roots will grow strong and deep. It is a weed, once cultivated, that is incredibly difficult to winnow out. Forgive. 
7. It is far easier to be cruel than to be kind. If you choose to be kind, realize that it will mean having to endure more, having to fight more, having to feel more and think harder. It is not easy, but life rewards those who are kind. 
8. There won’t always be a “right thing to do” in every situation. Search within yourself for what you feel is right for you, and do what it best for your heart and mind. 
9. To love someone else, you have to love yourself. It is ok to say, “I love you, but I love myself more.” Sometimes you have to let go. Sometimes being selfless means being selfish. 
10. Empathize with people. Try to see how they see the world. Try to teach them how to love themselves, but know that you can’t be the one to fix them. 
12. It is ok to fear some things, but not to let fear hold you back.
11. Mistakes are wonderful things. Flaws are wonderful things. Regret is the monster that makes them seem terrible. Don’t regret. Reflect, accept, and learn. 
13. We are never perfect.
14. That makes us perfect. 
15. Everyone is a work in progress. Never stagnate - constantly work towards an unachievable ideal. A human being is the only piece of art that is never finished. The art is the artist. The artist is the art. 
16. Beauty is everywhere. Try to see the beauty in things and in people. It will teach you how to appreciate. There is always a silver lining. 
17. Slllllooooooowwww dooooowwwwwwn. Embrace every moment. Make time to do nothing. Spend time with friends, and family, and strangers, and music, and sound, and smiles, and food, and air. Cherish everything. Savor the in between. 
18. Challenge yourself. Push yourself. Experience as much as you can. Take risks. Throw yourself into strange situations. Have faith. Be free. 
19. Actions do speak louder than words, but words can work wonders if they’re used properly.
20. You always have a voice and a choice. 
21. Love is not something you wait for. It’s something you create, employ, and bring to every table you sit it. If you love openly, and passionately, and unabridged, it will confuse people. It will make intimate relationships difficult to manage. But it will also make them more intriguing, dynamic, and passionate. Communicate. Be vulnerable. Leave the heart open. Tear your walls down. 
22. Anything worth dying for is worth living for. And fighting for.
23. Happiness is perspective. With age comes perspective. Even the memories that make you sad, the choices you’ve made that cause you pain, can be transformed into goodness. Your faculties make your reality. Choice is the greatest power you have. There is nothing that can’t be fixed. You are in control. You are never a helpless victim. 
24. Anything and everything that can’t possibly go wrong will. 
25. Never stop learning. There are no new endings, only old beginnings.

Being Vulnerable

Many people know me on the Long Island and NYC poetry and spoken word circuit as a calm, confident, and outgoing performer. I've been described as bubbly, charismatic, and extroverted; I love meeting new people and jumping right into fresh, novel situations. I try to maintain an air of positivity and humbleness... and to smile. Most people would consider me a happy person, which I most certainly am, and a bit of a joker.

This is by no means a farce. In all sincerity, I am a very happy person. I look around me and find that I am surrounded by so many beautiful people, by so many beautiful things. I feel loved and show love to as many people as I can, stranger or friend. I feel so blessed in my day to day life, and it creates such a wonderful space to be creative in. I strive to put forth ideas of good, right, openness, and beneficence - to exemplify the best of humanity.

What most people - friends, acquaintances, family, lovers - probably don't know is that I struggle.

Each and every day.

Although I may give off an air of stoic positivity, unshakable confidence, and childlike joy, I often feel incredibly alone. I feel utterly broken.

Again, the positivity and happiness people perceive in me is not at all synthetic. It is not a mask or a suit I put on when I'm out in the open, when I'm behind a mic. What you see is what you get. I am an open and honest person, and that is one of the reasons why I am writing this.

There is a risk you run when you choose to love people selflessly. (The original title of this blog was "Agápē Bodhisattva." The Greek word for "unconditional love," Agápē is something I take quite seriously.) It can be exhaustive and nonreciprocal. It can be taken advantage of and be misinterpreted. Riskier still, in intimate relationships, it can create friction, misunderstanding, and lead to obsessive behavior. I obsess. I have to resist the urge to stalk. These are some of the things I struggle with.

I do a lot of work in the field of mental illness, particularly in suicide prevention and depression. This may be partly motivated by this looming sense of incompleteness that follows me around, like a shadow of my shadow. There have been times in my life where I have reflected on the thought of ending my life, sometimes for days on end. Just meditating on it. Stewing in it.

Sometimes the anxiety is too much to bear.

Honestly, poetry readings, open mics, and performances help me to manage my endlessly reeling mind, stopping it from thinking of the past and fretting over the future. Being surrounded by people who enjoy what this fucked up brain of mine cooks up amidst fighting with a heart that is growing infinity bigger than it could ever hope to become has probably kept me alive. I feel broken. I feel lonesome. But I don't let that conquer me.

I'm here to tell you that no matter what you feel inside, no matter how broken, useless, hopeless, ugly, lonesome, listless, longing, brokenhearted, damaged, and otherwise undeserving you feel, things do get better. Although the moments of goodness and beauty seem few and far between, live for those moments, look for them, because they will help you to realize that there is so much more than hurt. We're all a little bit selfish - that's ok. We all feel worthless - you're not.

It's not about what we deserve, it's about what we're worth to ourselves.

I'm broken. I'm lonesome. But I'm alive. And being alive is the only excuse you need to say that things get better. Being alive makes you more blessed than you could comprehend. Happiness is possible. There is a moment out there waiting for you, to help you realize what really matters.

Don't let your darkness take your light. Do let it make you see it. They are one.    

Mara Netto

This is my great-great-aunt, Anna Schwiebert. Her maiden name was Otten, born in Germany. She, like myself, was a writer of poetry and fiction. She wrote under the pen name "Mara Netto." My family has kept many copies of her original work, mostly unpublished, but several years ago my grandmother (her niece) from Oceanside, NY mistakenly sold several of her manuscripts at a garage sale. 

As a writer, losing something you have created is like losing a piece of yourself. These manuscripts not only represent Anna's life work, but her memory. I never met her, but her genes are a part of me, so I feel like I have also lost a piece of myself. I want to get these manuscripts back. For Anna. 

Let's see how far this goes. I ask that you please SHARE this post with others. Maybe the person who has these manuscripts or knows the person will see it and return them to my family. 

They will be typewritten, either bound or paper-clipped and slipped into manila folders, with the title and the author's name typed on the front, with the page count in the top-right corner. Most were written in the 1930's. 

Anyone with information can either email me at Licardist@gmail.com OR call me at (631) 587-9195. My name is Steven. 

Thank you so very much. As an artist and a writer, this truly means everything to me.

(The Secrets We Keep)

I have a secret.

One that I think a lot of people walk around with, but are afraid to admit. Especially men. 

I’m heartbroken. 

Not the atypical, storybook kind of heartbroken. The “pit of your stomach, anxiety for breakfast, spend all day thinking about them, and go to sleep with a sigh” kind of heartbroken. The kind that consumes every waking moment (and sometimes sleeping). 

But that’s not my secret. 

My secret is… that I love it. 

I’ve spent years in this state. Finding every thought somehow connected to a face, a feeling, a moment. To a pair of lips, and eyes, to a smile, to a laugh, to a list of memories. To a girl I told I loved.

She is in every breath, every neuron that fires, every smile flashed. Every fleeting moment of my life, she is there. I can’t stand it, but I can’t let it go. I love her too much.   

We live in a culture where not being able to get over someone is seen as a crutch, a flaw, something that somehow makes you weak. You’re not allowed to be heartbroken because that means you’re too sensitive, too emotional, too soft. 

But what if that feeling is supposed to be there? What if that feeling is right? Nothing worth fighting for in life is easy, right? Why are we so swift to snuff something just because it hurts so much? Maybe it hurts so much for a reason. Maybe its real. 

We were together once. Me and the girl I love. We had a falling out. The worst kind. I won’t go into details, but it was (and is) beyond my heart and mind’s ability to comprehend. The situation that followed.

I spent so much time trying to resolve it, trying to fix it, to make sense of it, and it became so exhausting that my heart and my mind seemed to make a truce that there was nothing they could do about it. So they let it be, hoping it would solve itself.

But it didn’t. It just became a part of life, a part of the day to day. And I know there are others out there who have one of their own. Who have tried to wrap their brain around it, but can’t, so they just swallow it down and let it become a part of them.

I tried to snuff it. The love I had admitted to her. The promise I had made to her. The promise to always love her. But when I made that promise, I made it to myself too. And I have to keep it. I want to keep it. For her. 

The more I strip away the sense, the logic, the reason, the what I deserve, the “right,” the stronger the feeling gets. It can’t be just something ingrained in my psyche. It can’t be just emotional leftovers. It’s beyond that, beyond me; it’s pure. 

It’s a choice. All of this is a choice. I refuse to break that promise, the promise I made to her, the promise I made to myself, to always love her. I refuse to be the one to give up on it. It’s not a selfish choice made “for the sake of keeping a promise.” It’s not a selfish choice made for the sake of setting an example to the world, to say I’m somehow better. Because I’m not. 

I believe in this feeling. I believe it is real. I know it is. As distant as we are from each other, this feeling is still so strong. No matter what has happened, across time and space, I will always love her. And as painful as it is sometimes, I love that I love her. 

I have a secret, but I don’t want it to be a secret anymore. I want people to know that what I feel is real, that love is real, that no matter what they’re going through, no matter the pain, that it’s ok to be heartbroken. It’s ok to keep a promise. It’s ok to hold onto love.

I know there are other people out there who are sitting on something. Something they don’t know what to do with. Something they love more than anything, as much as it hurts. I know there are others like me that believe in the power of a promise, who know that love is not a choice, it’s a responsibility.  

I wonder how many people are walking around out there heartbroken… 

Humbleness: Why I Am Weak/Strong

Humbleness is a virtue.

It can be maintained while still adhering to confidence and self-love. Our importance is personal, both in the grand scheme of things and our relationships with others.

"How can humbleness be maintained if everything depends on you? Shouldn’t that inevitably lead to a sense of grandiosity?"

Reality is projected outward from within; you shape your world. In this regard, you are responsible for the world and everything in it. And yet, remember, so is everyone else. The opinions and beliefs that shape your way of looking at the world are yours and no one else’s, while those that shape the worlds of others are likewise not yours. Be humble, for we all live in the world together, a world colored in by the way we see things. It makes us weak, but it also makes us strong. Build your world up, but ensure it does not encroach on the world of others. Do not hold it too high nor let others tread upon it. Have a sense of humor!

Worship it and let it worship you…

Why I am weak –

         I am weak because I think I’m strong.
My Atlas dislocated both his shoulders
In an attempt to hold my world higher 
Now my providence is a porcelain rain
Shards of former confidence to nourish 
Weeds I swore I cleaned from gardens
         I gleaned in dreams I never had
My Atlas is a double amputee
         And I hold his burden now.

Why I am strong –

         I am strong because I know I’m weak. 
My Universe is spinning 
Around angels dancing on the head of a pin
Now my chaos is gluing wings together
Parachutes of humbleness to cup
Breeze-gulps I gather up and cherish
         The fairish wisdom I needed to fly
My Universe is smiling at me
         Because I make it laugh.

Enough Is Enough: The Gates

This is a call to arms.

There are dubious activities taking place right beneath our noses. Now is critical; this time and place in history is imperative. The globalized world, with technology that allows for nearly infinite knowledge (a digitized Library of Alexandria), is somehow no less ignorant. Humanity as a whole is richer than ever before, and yet the majority still starve and the minority revel in ever more lavish absurdity. All hail to the almighty dollar!

We can’t go green because there’s not enough green to go around. The democracy of American was founded on the belief that wealth is a deserved possession of all, and yet we live amidst a world where some hoard while others scrounge. The middle class is shrinking as the people with the money get power, manipulating us - even the information we are exposed to - into a false sense of control. Freedom isn’t free. 

Politics offer no solace. The common man is too busy bearing the weight of others’ revelry to organize. A unique population of people need to be the ones to change the world: Artists. Musicians, philosophers, painters, logicians, poets, bards, writers, actors, and even scientists need to band together and take back morality, take back the bastardized ethics of the modern world. Why artists? Because we transcend the hustle and bustle, the ho-humness of modernity. The desire to create is one of good, of love, of aesthetic beauty, and our craft is more important than the fickleness of wealth and the bribery of monotony. We have to be the ones to fix this. 



This is a call to arms for artists and the infinite strength of their creations: FIGHT!!!

The Gates

Bight my finger and chew on my soul

Determined to toss my bones in the hole

Better save your money up

Because there’s gonna be Hell to pay

When I spit fire

And rise from my grave  

Maggots in my eyes and dirt under my nails

With dusty black lungs, quick to inhale

You can push the barrel deep into my temple

Blow my mind out the other side

It means so much to be nothing at all

Because I broke the mold when I dropped the ball

I was the first to scream “FUCK YOU" in the face of dismay

I was the last to breath life into all the decay 

A Recipe For Happiness

Stop.

Just breathe.

Whatever it is… it will be alright.

It will pass.

All that matters is this moment.

Right now.

All that ever was… is now.

Too much of our life is spent worrying. About who we are, where we’re going, what to do. It is a burden that has been bequeathed to mankind ever since the conquering of evolution, for we are still perpetually tethered to our animal nature. There is worry all around us, about petty things, trivial things – superimposed synthetic obligations irrelevant to the achievement of happiness. We live in an externalized, globalized world in which the self is tossed to the wayside in favor of ephemeral boon. We hold onto contentment for a brief while, until something else perceived as worthy of our worry comes along to take it away from us. Most people spend all their lives trapped in this cycle of worry. These people think life is a bitch… but a dog is a man’s best friend.

There is a key to escaping this madness, to freeing one’s self from the maelstrom of being, a formula for the achievement of contentment. It is not a simple formula, but it is far less complicated then the chaos of life. It will protect you from the hardship of existence and keep you safe in the arms of positivity. Think of it as a recipe for happiness. We will need a list of ingredients:

• 1. It starts with a realization. Fourteen billion years ago, our universe burst forth out of nothingness. Soon (in the cosmological scheme of things) light began to pervade the nubile universe, impregnating it with simple atoms like hydrogen and helium. These simple elements coalesced through gravity to form stars and galaxies in which the heavier elements like carbon, oxygen, and phosphorus were synthesized. Perspective here is essential. This means that you arebillions of years in the making. The atoms that compose your body can be traced back to these primordial wombs. Furthermore, every few years the atoms in your body are cycled out and returned back to the Earth, into the clouds, animals, trees, and oceans. Atoms from these, likewise, are incorporated into your own body. All of this is to say that you are the Earth; you are the universe and everything in it. You have touched distant worlds and are intrinsically connected to everything. You matter. You are bigger than you could possibly imagine.   
• 2. Yet, remain humble, because we are also incredibly small. Just like you, everything else is composed of the same pervasive elements. You are never alone, because structurally we are all the same. Flowers, fish, mountains, seas, we are all one race of universal inhabitants. We inhabit ourselves. Set this idea aside for now. It will be important for later.  
• 3. What makes us unique are our experiences, our memories, our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our regrets. Combinitorially, there has never been nor ever will be another you. Even identical twins, who’s DNA is exactly the same, possess vastly different personalities. Indeed, the atoms that compose their respective bodies are not the same and the random mutations present on their skin, the freckles and beauty marks, battle scars of existence, attest to the fact that they are their own person. The blue prints are the same, but the materials are dissimilar. You own your personhood; the self is entirely yours, so long as you recognize the face staring back at you in the mirror. You are in control of the person you are and no one can claim ownership of that but you. No one. Together, these two facts attest two others.
• 4. You are perfect and beautiful. This is undeniable. The atoms that compose your body at this moment are present nowhere else in the universe. Your experiences, your memories, your hopes, your dreams, your fears, your regrets make you you. You are perfect because you have never before been proposed and never before realized. There has never been nor ever will be another you, therefore you are a perfect example of yourself. You cannot be flawed because there is nothing to compare your imperfection to. You’re perfectly imperfect. Likewise, you are beautiful because beauty cannot be determined by an aesthetic comparison. Because there is nothing to compare it to, your beauty is also perfect. You are perfectly beautiful. Because the atoms are constantly cycling out of you, you are constantly being reborn, your perfection and beauty replaced with perfection and beauty. Your uniqueness is perpetually becoming and being realized in the same instant. The idea of beauty as in the eye of the beholder is only a state of blindness. Beauty can be found in anything and everything. So long as you seek to recognize it, it will be found. 
• 5. Because we each own ourselves, our beauty and perfection is likewise our property. No one can lay claim to it but you. Other’s opinions on the matter are, essentially, meaningless. You will always be perfect and beautiful, but should you see imperfection or find yourself not beautiful, you have two choices: To change what vexes you or accept it as it is. Many people fret over their regrets and mistakes, things that have happened in the past that cannot be changed. These events contribute to one’s uniqueness, but many see these as flaws in one’s character. In such instances, because you cannot change them, they must be accepted as they are, embraced as a part of you, and used to better your present state; we learn so that we may improve ourselves. No matter how helpless a situation may seem, there is always the opportunity to learn from it. You may not be able to change what happened, but you can change your actions to better the future. As for changing yourself, there are many routes to improve something about yourself, but sometimes the easiest is simply changing the way you see yourself. It is one thing to get healthy, but it is another to try and change the way you look because of how people see you. Before taking any action, always ask: “Am I doing this for myself or for others? Am I doing this to make myself happier or to make others happy?” Always choose the route that preserves your contentment and leads to the achievement of the next ingredient in this list.
• 6. Having truly grasped the previous five concepts, no good recipe would be complete without love. We are taught on television, in movies, in music, in literature, that love is something found between two people and once our other half is found, happiness can be achieved. It is a sad irony that we continuously search for love outside ourselves, when it needs to be found within us first. Someone else will come along later. The happiest relationships are those in which both parties love themselves completely and each other equally. Love of the self is the strongest foundation you can build. It will protect you from all of life’s hardships and any danger to contentment that comes your way. Once fortified, it is stronger than diamond and gentler than silk. It is like an endless reservoir of positivity, enriching your life and guiding your choices. Learning to love yourself is one of the greatest lessons of life, one that many people go without learning. To achieve it requires discipline and the revelation of the previous five ideas. It should be your ultimate goal. If ever you are sad, ask: “Do I love myself?” Continue to question, wonder if you love yourself completely, challenge it, until the answer “Yes” is grasped with certainty and confidence. That endeavor will direct you, communicate to you what you need to do to better yourself. No matter what, love will keep you safe.   
• 7. To return to the second ingredient, because we are all made of the same elements, and typically share in similar experiences of heartache, hope, and regret, show kindness and compassion to all things, for they too struggle. Do not look on others with zealous desires of means to an end, but seek to find the beauty, perfection, and love within them. Having a secure foundation of love, founded on the realization of your uniqueness, beauty, and perfection, will guide your actions and will steer you towards goodness, truth, and happiness. Every action should be done in the pursuit of truth and honesty. We all share in our being – having been gifted with the opportunity to exist. We exchange building blocks so that we may build ourselves anew. Every moment is an opportunity to start over. Every inhale is laced with possibility and every exhale infested with your love, such that we each control our reality. You have the power to change the world – all you have to do is change the way you see it. There are opportunities for love, for beauty, and for perfection all around you. Finding them and letting them enrich your life requires looking within and finding happiness and positivity within yourself.  

Realize that we are all one in our possession of existence. Bigotry, ignorance, and hatred are the externalized shortcomings of the self. Learning to look on yourself with positivity, contentment, love, beauty, and perfection will give you the ability to look on others with the same light. We must strive to create a species that lives this way; a humanity of goodness; if every man, woman, and child can be taught to love themselves, everyone will learn to love everyone else and see them for who they truly are. We are united in our struggle in life, but life can be a beautiful experience if we realize we are all in this together, every one of us, every last atom in this incredible universe.

Many find peace and contentment in the arms of an omnipotent God, while others find the same fulfillment in the presence of a purposeless universe. Conversely, many continue to struggle to find happiness, even with the guidance of religion. Regardless if you are Christian, Hindu, atheist, agnostic, Wiccan, or Muslim, this recipe can be applied by anyone. Goodness is independent of creed, culture, and race. The desire to find happiness is universal. The acceptance of God’s love is no different from the acceptance of your own. Given that all religions or spiritual speculations contain similar if not identical trends in doctrine, subject matter, or ritual, it seems that within all of us is a sliver of God; that a part of every human being is divine and that this is what has led to the development of religion. As with all faith, belief must begin within. Worship yourself before you worship anyone else.

Om mani padme hum. 

The Hand You're Dealt: If I Looked Like What I've Been Through

Don't hate the hand you've been dealt. It is your gift, your plight, and it is up to you to use it to better yourself and the world around you. Greatness lies on the outskirts of suffering. Struggle is the guarantee that the direction you are going in is the right one. Nothing grand is achieved without effort. You are in control of your destiny; you can get out of this mire, this bog that imprisons you. The chains that bind you are figurative for a reason.

I have seen men claw their way back from the brink of self-destruction. No string of bad decisions is beyond repair. We all struggle - often through similar situations, experiences, and tragedies. Telling your story can empower others to tell theirs, to create a network of support, to provide an example of how you can save yourself and others from the demons that haunt each of us. Remember... there is always someone who will miss you in the end. No one is forgotten and evil is always conquered by good. Always.

After being diagnosed with a Pervasive Developmental Disorder, I grew up among a lot of kids with dubious futures. Many have gone on to lead beneficent, productive lives. We are survivors. You are a survivor. We each carry the battle scars of our own personal civil wars, but we don't always wear them with pride. Our medals, our purple hearts, hide just beneath the skin - the silent aggrandizements of our perseverance. Own your struggles. Use them to make you stronger. To make us stronger.

What would you look like if you looked like what you've been through?

I must stress that I do not condone self-harm. Please never hurt yourself. Seek help.

If I looked like what I've been through
I'd have the face of a woman
and a man
contorted into a kind of in-between
delicate and masculine
with eyes that pierce and lips that tempt
with a jaw of glass that slices like obsidian
and a brow that collects beads of sweat
where ideas fall to their deaths

If I looked like what I've been through

my face would be scarred with age 

ancient memories tucked under my tongue 

to escape is archaic speech 

wisdom exuding, 

bleeding through childlike curiosity 

a fascination 

that hints at an old soul

inside a young heart

If I looked like what I've been through
I'd have a heart where my brain is supposed to be
I'd have a brain where my heart is supposed to be
and they'd constantly be switching
thinking, feeling
fighting for what is right
neither able to decide who is winning 

If I looked like what I've been through
I'd be dressed in a three piece straitjacket
with cufflinks
dressed to the nines in a canvas tux
with the images that cloud my mind painted on
a metaphor for my artistic fervor
my former affliction replaced with a brilliance
no less insane

If I looked like what I've been through
I'd have cuts so deep in my wrists
my hands would bend back as if attached with hinges
I'd have bible pages rolled up and tucked inside the veins
unfinished poems
dollar bills
that I'd unroll from time to time
to remind me
to hold on

If I looked like what I've been through
my blood type would be ink
and you would see it coursing
in sentences and verses
just beneath my skin

If I looked like what I've been through
my skin wouldn't be able tell you what race I am
but you would still judge me
I'd have the misplaced morality of a Christian
the pantheon of a Hindu
the hope of an atheist
and the history of a Jew

If I looked like half as much as I've been through
I'd only be half a person
an incomplete masterwork
a magnum opus
loaded only with dummy bullets
I wouldn't have half the passion
that bleeds like beads of sweat from my gaping pores
in rivulets of syntax
that I dab with looseleaf paper
to preserve
what I've been through

If I looked like what I've been through...
you wouldn't even see me
you would only see the things that make me me 
but they are not me
I am so much more than what I have been through... 

I am infinitely stronger  

The Freedom of Truth: Liar's Plea

Truth is a curious phenomena. It is something that can be very powerful and beneficent, but also incredibly spiteful. For those who adhere to truth and honesty, life is pretty kind. The truth will set you free, so they say - free from guilt, free from fear, free from apprehension. I think the greatest danger in falsifying the truth (lying) is the culpability that builds inside us. As time goes on, guiltiness will haunt, while the chances of the truth coming to the surface increases. It is a terrible, beautiful game.

Truth is dangerous and powerful. Hold true to it and it will never spite you. Turn your back on it and truth will stab it. 

Most people avoid the truth because of the pain or consequences that result from its admission. To avoid such inconveniences, we often fabricate a lie to put off the angst of the moment. The problem  with this is that the pain is minimized for a time, but after a while, especially if the lie is maintained, the pain of the truth getting free becomes far worse. The bigger the fiction, the harder it will fall, the sharper the pieces, and the farther they'll scatter. Also, as time passes, the victims of truth will increase exponentially. Truth must be kept in check by ensuring it is spoken of more often than not. Truth enjoys attention.

We all lie, and little white lies aren't so bad sometimes. But there is a huge difference between a petty fib and a massive fabrication. Have you got lies you've been keeping for a long while? Do they eat you up inside, but you're too afraid to tell the truth? Set those who may be hurt by the truth down and tell it to them gently yourself. They will appreciate it, maybe not immediately, but with time they will respect your courage. It is the worst when the truth is admitted by someone or something else. Don't be afraid to befriend the truth. Truth and honesty will sprinkle your life with goodness. It is the essence of karma.

Liar's Plea

If some solitude can be sought between

The rind that segregates me,

Perhaps some air could leak inside 

And nourish this sheltered being

Whose memories confine with sin

The falseness they betray,

While truth stands by

Suffocating, 

But refuses to decay.

Fight For Your Passion: Omasum

Don't second guess yourself. 

If you feel it, if you taste it, if you can't escape it, embrace it. 

Everyone has a passion. Some of us are consumers, indulging in things or experiences. Some of us are producers, people who have a drive to create things. Some of us are both, but nearly all of us has a passion. All of us has something we are passionate about. 

Is there something you can't live without? Is there something that motivates you against your will? There are good addictions and there are bad addictions. Bad addictions destroy you. Good addictions sustain you. They can be hobbies, they can be interests, they are things that make you happy and help you reconnect with yourself. Often, it is when we are enraptured in our passions that we feel most alive.

In the hustle and bustle of contemporary reality, it is sometimes hard to find the energy and the time to feed those passions. We feel the drive, we feel the desires, but we convince ourselves there are more worth-while things to be done. That is you denying yourself. That is your heart telling you what you need. It's a hunger - feed it!

This life is a gift. That means it has been given to you and you own it, so you do whatever you wish with it. Would you rather pursue your passions and fail or never pursue them and never unlock your full potential? Don't be afraid to stop EVERYTHING and GO!!! 

Book signing for DBAM at Stony Brook University

Omasum

The iridescent taffeta that covers my stain glass bones

Builds a wickiup of plasma that smolders and corrodes

And this algid patina that covers my radiant face

Keeps from the world the smile that it scolds.

In the black and white albedo of a lunatic sphere

That bleeds a curious complexion, both brutal and queer,

Its prism projects molten opal upon the cardboard race,

Who communicate with buttoned lips and listen with biased ears.

While they fold in their lackadaisical limbs,

Taking off their hats, splitting their lips upon the brims,

I cast my crystal cobwebs across their noses in disgrace,

Listening as gravity crinkles my thorny heart like tin.

I can hear its asperous teeth dig into it like pi

As that morose masquerading marionette in the sky

Continues to encircle me, soldering my carcass in place,

As the golems peregrinate around the apocryphal sty.  

Listening to the masticating music as it unfolds,

Transcending the bitter warmth and sweltering cold

Until a dynamic paralysis trickles into the case

Of alligator skin that covets this once human mold.

And what I knew of longing seems to gangrene into fear.

That gentle glow has turned to tarp, through which I’m forced to peer

Upon a smithereen of what was once my cosmic base, 

Which I snatch up starvingly like a begrudged souvenir     

Until that nimbus vulture that emblazons my chagrin,

Hovering like a noxious conversation that’s been drawn too thin,

Bursts like an aneurism, cascading naked shards of space

That land upon my gasoline tongue, quite saccharine. 

And I taste the aureola, combusted before my elytroid eyes;

And I collapse onto a padded pedestal, whose pain is amplified; 

And as my heart gallops off, its bent-in bruises throttle its pace,

Until it too is smeared across the flippant canvas and dies. 

There I fall like argyle rain

In the foyer of consequential refrain,

Collecting like autumn leaves

In puddles of psychedelic disdain.

I cachinnate at all the almighty delusions I sought to free,

Yet I still pursue the jaundiced cud that trundles out of me.

Shout Out

I met a guy through the grapevine who has his own poetry blog and is trying to get people excited about his writing, especially his new book. His name is Plot 121 and his work spans a large swathe of themes. Check out his blog and support your local artists. Much love.

UPDATE: MY BOOK IS OFFICIALLY OUT!!!

This post has been a long time coming, but I am honored and in awe to announce that I am officially a published author. This is truly a dream come true for me. My book, Death By Active Movement: The Certainty of Life through Poetry, has just released on Amazon.com. The book is a collection of original poems exploring the relationship between life and death. The poems are meant to illuminate the concept of death and to show how our own evanescence, the fleeting nature of existence, is precisely the reason why life should be cherished and appreciated. All the wonderful miracles, all the pain, all the sensations, everything it means to be alive is beautiful precisely because it must all come to an end. From love, to the afterlife, suicide, and everything between, the poems cover a broad sweep of subjects, some sweet, some somber, some graphic, some grotesque, but all filled with novel ideas and powerful imagery. Thank you so much for all your support and much love to everyone who orders their copy. 

This is the pinnacle of my life thus far.  

UPDATE
Christine Sampson has just written an amazing article on the West Islip and Three Village Patch covering the book. Give it a read and learn a little bit more about myself and what's between the covers. I'm incredibly honored to have this distinction. Much love to Chrissy for writing the article.   

Sandy Hook Reaction: Tête-à-tête UPDATE

There is a tragic epidemic spreading across the United States. I'm not quite sure where it began or how the infection started, but it appears to be growing. It is characterized by intense violence directed at your fellow man.

The atrocious events that took place a week ago in Newtown, CT have brought to the fore issues that have been teeming at the heart of this outbreak for quite some time. The brutality exhibited is tied into other circumstances surrounding American culture today. Why, with so much technology, are we so alienated from one another? Why do we choose to communicate through a screen rather than face to face? Bullying is nothing new, but when it is exhibited on the internet, it becomes property of the world, leading to an all new breed of anxiety. Suicide runs rampant. The pathways in place to keep us connected have drawn us apart. An older gentleman told me he used to hitchhike everywhere in the 1970's, but now he wouldn't dare set foot in a stranger's car. What the hell happened to us?

The politics in place on the television and on our radios only mask the true issues at hand. The way in which media networks have reported on recent events attests to our addiction to entertainment. We are becoming crueler and further alienated from one another. We are surviving off of stigma, force fed dramatized reality, being lobotomized by primetime televised genocide, and it is corrupting our genes.

We must, together, persevere to reverse this growing calamity. No amount of diplomatic bickering and institutionalized rights can alleviate the American people of responsibility. We must collectively embrace our identities as human, as American, and work together to save each other, from each other, from ourselves. There is a civil war occurring in our hearts and it is spilling out into the streets. The only way we can win this war is through love - Love for ourselves and our fellow human beings.

Tête-à-tête: A Reflection on School Shootings in Two Parts 

I.

There are few things that I hold unjustifiable.

Few acts persist with purity

As inarguably heinous

As the senseless murder

Of the innocent…

The helpless and

The defenseless

In public places.

A mall,

A movie theatre,

A church,

But none more despicable

Than a school.

There is nothing more tragic

Than when utmost ignorance

Conquers a safe haven of education,

As if chains had suddenly conquered their keys.

The only time books and bullets should share the same space

Is in a social studies book;

The only time a child should have to smell gunpowder

Is on the Fourth of July.

No one should have their innocence

Ripped away from them;

No one should have to die

In a classroom.  

I sympathize with the mentally ill,

The delusional,

The misinformed,

But I cannot sympathize  

With those that deliberately take the lives of students  

In a violent act of self-aggrandizement.

I cannot pool my pity

For this monstrosity;  

For the purity of evil it distils.

The thought processes required

To compel a human being

To massacre children and young adults

Is an infectious adulteration

That strikes at the crux of a person’s humanity,

Transmutating them into something

Far more vile,

More disgusting than I think any one of us is capable of conceiving.

But anger…

And vengeance,

And hatred

Are not the answer.  

This is not about gun control

Or mental health issues,

This is about the worth of the human character.

This is about the need to act,

To quell the spread

Of this infectious disease.

To save the lives of the innocent

We must save the lives of those who seek to kill them.

We must stop the beasts

Before they feed.

Realize that

The shooter was innocent too once.  

We must learn to support each other,

Through love and acceptance.

We must learn to read the signs of danger

And to act on them,

To save the perpetrators from themselves.

They will thank you…   

We can no longer be afraid to help one another,

To fear the stigma,

The backlash.

It is a chore that must be undertaken by each and every one of us,

To winnow out the demons that possess our fellow man.

Build a gun that shoots bullets of compassion…

And we can blow away this mess. 

II. 

I am so sorry

For what has happened here…

So sorry

For what your fellow man has done.

The love that binds you

To the loved ones you have lost

Binds us all together

In the wake of this tragedy. 

The memory of their beauty,

The grace with which they have touched our lives,

Will no less persist

In my mind

And heart

Than in yours.

Let us,

Together

In our collective sorrow,

Reflect on them

With the confidence

That their death  

Will ensure the world is made

A better place.

I am so sorry

For your loss…

For my loss…

For our loss,

For the loss to humanity.

I am so…

So sorry

That my poem

Cannot bring them back.   

This poem is dedicated to the memory of all those who have lost or given their lives as a result of a mass shooting. My love and my words go out to the families of those lost and anyone else who is connected to or has been affected by a public shooting. 

God Bless America  

UNDATE
A recording of this poem can now be found on the ReverbNation profile. Check it out and share it with your friends!