Sleep Just Won’t Come

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Everything has just been building up lately.  I find myself getting frustrated very easily.   I’m really not sure why.  Maybe it’s self preservation, maybe I just don’t care anymore.  I just can’t do it.

I’m done losing sleep over people that obviously only care about themselves.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I don’t walk away from things easily.  Lately, that has not been the case. 

I try to find the beauty in things but sometimes the negativity overshadows it.  I honestly feel like I don’t have a voice sometimes.  I’ve given up on more than one person lately.  Trying to keep a dying friendship alive was like screaming in silence.  The entire thing revolved around going out drinking every night. 

I won’t lie, it was fun at first.  As I started to realize that things were going downhill, I found myself drinking to numb the pain.  It killed me knowing that the friendship was dying.  Knowing that you have to give up on someone you considered family sucks.

One good thing did come out of it.  All of this newfound free time allowed me to reconnect with a few people I haven’t seen in years.  One in particular, has been through many of the same issues that I have.  I hate to say it but the is only ONE person who I feel won’t judge me for what I’ve been through. 

Knowing that I can be open about my depression,  the hospital stay and the daily struggles really helps.  

I’m back….

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So, you guys proably noticed I took a few days off.  I’ve been spending a lot of time reading up on crowd funding and how to be a better boom operator.  I also got myself a bike.  Needless to say I’ve been pretty damn busy.  We’re trying to get 500 likes on the Newlywed and Broke facebook page.  These articles and such are mentally exhausting.  I’ve also been riding at least 5 miles a day.  Here is a picture of my Specilized Hardrock a.k.a. The Beast

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Anyway… back to what’s important.  I haven’t been writing much poetry lately because Newlywed and Broke have been consuming most of my time.  You can find us on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/newlywedbroke and Twitter @newlywedandbrok.  Maybe I’m a little biased but I truly think  Reko and everyone involved with NAB Have a great thing going.

Just judging by how much we laughed while mking the video for our http://www.indiegogo.com campaign video,  you guys are going to love it.  When the guy who is writing this stuff is laughing his ass off between takes because something or someone is making him laugh,  It says a lot.

I do have to say.  Reko is just as funny off camera as on, maybe even funnier.  I spent four days hanging out with him and his fiancee Kat.  We spent the first two days filming.  It was an experience to say the least.  The third day was spent returning rental gear, watching movies and generally goofing off.

We threw around ideas for future projects as well as current stuff.  I learned a few things about writing that I never knew were important.  We went to the thrift store and bought crazy clothes to wear to the beach just because we could.  Here’s a pic from Santa Monica

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Frrom left to right,  David Fernandz, Me, Alfredo De Leon and Reko Moreno

All that being said.  Please take a second to check out Newlywd and Broke as well as Henchmen.  You can find them here…

Www.fcebook.com/newlywedbroke
Henchmenco.com

Hit Record

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We all have our dreams
What are e gonna do with them
Sit around and wait
Or take our chances and jump

Into the endless spin
Vinyl records and celluloid ribbons
Hammering away on your old Remington
You chose a typewriter over a laptop

Random thoughts scrawled all over
Tattered parchment sheets
Quarter inch cable plugged in
Go for broke and hit record

Page after endless page
The cramp in my wrist reminds me
That even with these big dreams
I am still an ordinary person

Even when I want to give up and go home
I burned that bridge a long time ago
Left myself with only one choice
There’s no looking back

This is my history that hasn’t happened yet
So I guess that makes it a story
A new page everyday
No end in sight

I Used To Be

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I used to be such a negative person
It ruled every part of my life
Even now as I look back
I have no regrets

Everything I’ve been through
Whether it was good or bad
Has turned my into someone
Who is more than willing to fight

It won’t be physical
That’s not who Iam
My words are my waepons
Against all that is holding me down

In this quiet place
With a pen in my hand
Your world means nothing to me
My world is in this page

There is a light here
That can’t be blacked out
It comes from the fire in my eyes
No one will take it away

I used to feel like a bull in a china shop
A clumsy little kid in a grown up world
Now I’m like a china doll in a bull pen
Stepping into the unknown

Now I know where I’m going
And who’s coming with me
Believe me it’s not many
I can cunt them on on hand

Left Out

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Sometimes we feel like no one is there
We’re all alone in the little world
Something we created as a shelter
From the harsh words and dirty looks

A life of self exile
Some would all it isolation
But you call it protection
Who knows what it really is

Does it matter to anyone but you
After all you’re safe here
Sitting by the fire
Writing down your thoughts

They came to try to save you
Only to do more harm
You weren’t ready to leave yet
But they’ve forced your hand

They’re screams could pierce steel
And the blood burns like acid
They can keep coming and fighting
But they’ll never take you alive

Poison Apple

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Charity born from malevolence
A gift that’ sure to bring pain
A single evil being
Hiding among the innocent

You know something is wrong
When you take the first bite
Where did this gift come from
Who left this for you

Try to gasp for air
Your throat is swelling shut
You wold give anything
For just one breath

It quickly sets in
This wasn’t just an apple
There was something inside
That was laced with evil

Mr. Meyers

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You all know his name
The one who shows no fear
He’s coming for you tonight
You better run for your life

You can’t see his face
Just a blank white stare
You’ll never hear him coming
A cold silent killer

Can you see him in the window
Now he’s upstairs
Where will he go next
I’ll never let you know

Just when you think you’re safe
There he is again
Waiting to take you with him
Good Ol’ Mr. Meyers

Other Side of Me

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I stare at the kid in the mirror
Is this who I’ve become
All the pain and the fear in my eyes
A flash of hate in my eyes

It’s not supposed to be like this
Stuck in a place
The world is leaving me behind
Its like a living time lapse photo

The words hit like bricks
Sticks and stones
Blah blah blah lah
I know it doesn’t work like that

Take it all in and bottle it up
A ticking time bomb of hate
Just waiting for a break
The perfect moment to realease

Everything I’ve heard
Over and over and over
You’ve changed into something
That no one wants to see

A different peron
Holding nothing sacred
I’d like to introduce you to
The oter side of me

Why do we do what we do?

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I’ve been questioning this a lot lately.  Every one of my friends has at least one thing they do well.  Some of them are musicians, some are actors and some write.  We don’t choose what we are good at.  We were able to see where or strong point lie and nurture them. 

For most of us these things didn’t come easy.  The actors take classes, the musicians take lessons and the writers write.  We are constantly doing things to help improve our selected craft. 

This ends to raise questions.  I get asked at least once a week why I write.  Usually I just chock it up to the fact that riting was one of the few things I felt I was good at.  So I took at and ran with it.  I’ve been writing for years now.  At the same time I’m stdying other’s work and reading books on stye and technique. 

I’ve been told many times that I need to develope my own style.  That I shouldn’t read work by other writers because it willinfluence my writing.  That is exacly what I want.  Why should I stick to just one style when I write? 

I write because I love it.  Its what I do.  So just like everything else, i’m going to get as good as I can possibly get.  I will write nything I can possibly write.  This is my story, and ‘m going to tell it.