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Under the two way mirror below each layer of the faded paint of a coffin, lied the liar laying alone and undead. Laughing in amnesia's grasp at his own reflection upon seeing himself through crazed eyes.
I know the story that is told for the doomed soul, and how short it is will remind you of condemnations meaning. A guinea pig by his own curiosity laid flat in useless soils, his was a cliche tale of woe and an ending without twists.
A turn for the worst will come with the lights switched on and the glass broken, and his first steps will be into a world without law or regulation, yet a prison all the same where the guards are inmates and the Warden was once near flawless.
A hooded figure had come sporting typical black for the cliche fool as told in countless fables, and delivered unto Hell an unrepentant sinner for whom God had wept just like the innumerable before him. The fool will weep from now on.
Biographies for these characters are fables tattooed on the golden calf upon which the Devil rides. For the lies of this liar were for the gold that coated his false pride, born in his first reflection.
Seeing a glimpse of who you truly are is an often terrifying revelation to the distracted self. That preview of a cloudy fork in the road is a prophecy for a choice between many things that make an individual. You always have a choice of what to become, but this spiritual warfare can lead you astray in so many ways, many of which you can fail to notice.
A look over the hill was a gaze down to a canyon of black, in where I heard sounds ungodly. And there I said farewell to the bullets dodged with a shot of spit over the ledge. My back became turned to an abyss, but such as that chasm could hardly be closed by the peripheral visions of ignorant bliss, and now tectonic plates have shifted over my shoulder.
I faced east where a firing squad smiled at me, in some bizarre mirror whose glass still beheld sand over the face, and to the west lies the range of mountains haunted by nomadic ghouls. Within that place had been a land I should have known with good intention, yet my feet never did deliver me there in the time when ghouls were good souls of high regard.
And now I face loaded rifles in my rugged reflection, refracted by the fall of this boy that grows pale a midst the facts, suffocated by the figurative time machine stuck in reverse. There is nothing else for me in the direction I face; nothing more than a broader distance between myself and ghosts that will only follow me until I join their ranks.
A wind comes to beckon me, and I turn only to find the ghouls on the move in droves, marching towards the opposite ledge. I sense no desire for war, yet i feel the vibrations of drums at my feet. It was Autumn in that drawn out year, whose name was a painful experience that crept on the tongue of a dead end that had called me its offspring in the era of my aimless roaming.
Because of this I have come to know the language of ghouls taught to me by monkeys on my back, both sporting horns and halos and the wings that carry me through free will. My voice may then carry the tongues we speak, those ghouls and I, across a bottomless hole in my world, that I may face what I call nightmares with a bit of dignity lest I perish in the man-made wasteland.
Ring the southern bell and watch the cracks form on the face like deathly vines, seen only on haunted walls and forlorn landscapes. Where tombstones tread lightly in the erosive wake and presence of a deranged hourglass.
Here, angels receive no wings, but are taunted by the stone necks of statues in the guillotines. They are so carved out by green chisels and an average mans feeble hammer, to be morbidly obese for the sharpest blades to choke on.
For they have made themselves plated in fool's gold, molesting the line between an ego and the racking of muck. Here in heavily populated lands they lie, for lack of a better term, in seedy earth, thriving in the intimate nature of curses.
Another piece on modern media, and how opinion and fact are seldom set apart. Many "journalists" are just thinking out loud without delivering the real news, or even going as far as to insert their opinion where they lack a story. These are not professionals, but instead, overpaid blogging pawns of ignorance. The only solution for the time being is to seek out information on your own accord by going to multiple news sources, or simply doing research to see who can and cannot be trusted.
Stanza one establishes the idea that one hot news story can quickly develop into a catalyst of both division and miscommunication. Thanks to the much quicker and easier methods of access, timing has become a key element in relation to the interest of the consumer, their loyalty to a news source and the agenda of the source. That timing therefore makes or breaks the truth of most stories for those consumers.
The second stanza explains that the truth ultimately becomes lost in these processes, and that once this occurs, it takes copious amounts of journalistic effort to undo the damage.
The conclusion states that much of the problem stems from the pride in both greed and incomprehension. These news sources are the people's connection to the consistency of a changing world. Opinion (ego) and fact (muckraking) must always be separate, and even still, both should be guided by morality and ethics.
This is of course my opinion on the matter as both a consumer and student of the media. Feel free to let me know what you think, but keep it civil. Thank you for reading and God bless!
(Please keep in mind, these are just my opinions, and are therefore subject to change with new info and time. Please feel free to express your thoughts, but remain civil and try to respect others. Thank you so much for reading.)
Take what meaning you wish, but I wrote this from the point of view of victimized refugees, who have been forced to flee their homes due to incursions from the growing plague of ISIS. To be clear, when I use the term "sheep" it is in no way meant to be an insult to these people. I refer to true practitioners of the Muslim faith who follow a God of peace, the same as Christians and Jews. We sheep are slaves to nothing, but willing, faithful and happy to serve a peaceful, all loving, all knowing God, despite any differences in our beliefs. The "riddle" refers to the confusion, miscommunication, and misguidance involved with this conflict. The media tells stories that are never 100% true, ISIS is nothing but newly disfigured evil, and what must be done is clear: I fear that a fire with fire strategy is necessary to wipe these barbarians from the face of the earth...Although I detest murder, for any cause, it is more than clear that the Enemy has too tight a grip on them for words to hold more power than actions. As said before, these brutes are nothing new, and at best are misguided fanatics.
I fear I am bound to the road paved with good intentions. That infamous empire awaits me, built upon the foundation of forbidden fruits and deceit. Each movement of one foot or the other raises the question as to why i do these things, to sell one's soul for a temporary world.
Enriched are the lies I tell myself through various voices in my head, so few of them being holy. Guilt keeps me from sprinting and humility keeps the pleasure of this mindset in fragile balance and the hairs of my flesh are raised to attention in the presence of watchful eyes.
I have danced with illusions and made love to deception all while the sickness in my stomach grows and suffocates any innocence that remains. I cruelly suffer this pointless endeavor for sake of avoiding that hideous strength the world holds over me, in the name of my fear.
What point is there in my continuation? I have already labelled myself the laughing stock of a crumbling mind in where my faith lacks, not in Him but myself. I dread this Rube Goldberg suicide mission where one action seems to only pull me closer to Hell and the death of my soul.
Yet by a thread does hope cling, and faith live. I have never been alone on this convoluted road, smiling at the stones engraved by my good intent, and weeping at the land mines of my choices that could've used more wisdom and any amount of Godliness.
Oh God how regret consumes me and plague ravishes this flesh. How deep down it is that the pleasure and guilt is seeded with such mystery! The devil of my mind is the time bomb essence of psychosis, awaiting one foot or the other to step on the perfect land mine.
Only you keep me in line and from sprinting. Lacking you, I would be specs of dust scattered on earth and among dying stars. It is for you that i resist each and every step to highest quality of my potential, knowing that progression is the road you desire for me when my eyes change.
It will be in honor of my God and God of all things, that I should stand before my enemy, amongst more children of Heaven than stars amongst the universe. Hope is so far from lost with you, my glorious God in Heaven. My eyes have played tricks on me in this life.
Yours in the love that blots out the false light of all fire and brimstone, reversing the process of incineration so that the empire that awaits me is obliterated as though it had never been. I will, if it pleases you, redirect this road to the Heavens that have enlightened the universe entirely.
The fires will rage and melt away this dimension as though it were kindling in the aspect of being tossed away. And i will still be here, awaiting you undaunted in the heart behind enemy lines, carrying on in the shadow of the valley of death, fearless within hope and good intent.
You can talk up and down about how you plan on being better or trying harder for the sake of good, but fighting the good fight requires true combat for the mind, body and soul. Though you are forgiven and loved no matter what, evil still gains a foothold when good is set aside. For what God has given you and the universe, and cherish that which is beautiful to Him.
How I've come to see things is one of the reasons I take such a high liking to story telling in the media, and to explain, I don't mean the corrupted muckraking system by which the information of day to day civilization is so rigidly disseminated (The News), but I mean entertainment! Video games, Cinema, literature, music, and so on and so forth. These wonderful, fantastic inventions granted to us by God given ability hold the potential to create glorious tales of varied genres. It's the good ones that make you think from another perspective than your own, and do so with an open mind do to a story that was told to your liking rather than merely your preference.
There was a time in which I was much more intolerant and hateful. Completely different from how I am now, and it because of the stories I've heard and the experiences that came from them that I think the way I do. I am in no way stating that my train of thought is perfect or of some higher intelligence than anyone else on this planet, but that in my human nature to try and make sense of things, the railroad for that train of thought has become, for me, a bit more smooth. Telling stories, however long of short, detailed or vague, can affect the brain in so many more ways than one depending on the mind inside that beautiful brain.
Take for example, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. It can be received as a tale of horror, or the arrogance of man, or how man fears what he does not understand, or even what I'm attempting to explain in this very piece: that it is within mans nature to attempt to make sense of the world around him, at just about any cost. Then you have more contemporary tales like from Marvel or DC comics, that hold an almost endless array of tales, morals, and messages for their often loyal readers. I've yet to meet an avid comic book reader who didn't have a kind heart in their chest and an interesting mind to accompany it. Story telling can also go deeper into concepts like character analysis (I.e. A Biography of the fictional DC villain, the Joker, which is being written by one of the respective professors of Texas Tech University) when you read such things, your mindset is often changed from fearing and hating the villain, to empathizing with and often taking pity on them. Mary Shelley is quoted saying, "No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks."
All this being said, story telling is at its best, a catalyst for thought as a means to alter perspective by opening the doors and windows of the human mind a little bit at a time. Because of songs, movies, books, commercials, news stories, and so on, humans are better able to communicate in their desire to make sense of the wondrous universe all around us. It is because of this, in my personal life, that I firmly believe in the phrase "things could be worse" as more than an expression or basic outlook on some abysmal situation. No I truly believe that things could always be worse, and that they could always be better. Yet that we are exactly when and where God wants us to be in time and space according to His promises to us. When I choose to look on the bright side, I choose to realize that I don't have all the answers, and that I don't know what the future holds. I'm pretty much winging it like everyone else, and just trying to take baby steps in making sense of this God given world with the mind that the relationship between that world and my fate, have created. The world must always be approached with an open mind, but a cautious heart. Some stories can lead you astray from better outlooks and roads in life, unless you choose to see them in a way that leads you closer to a joyful peace between you and God.
Here are a few examples of some great story telling in different methods and forms:
I dedicate the majority of my work to our Lord in Heaven, as well as my family and friends. Please refer to my journal entries, because they really sum up what I'm about and my personal agenda in regards to my work.
I enjoy studying mainly theology and psychology, but also forensic science, history, meteorology, literature, and a few other things. Please feel free to leave prayer requests in the comment section on my main page, and ask questions if you do not understand something that I post. Please keep in mind that I am only human, and I am far from perfect. I mean well with my intentions and goals, for all whom they affect.
I sincerely hope you enjoy what I've written. Thank you, and God bless.
Favorite moviesAnything that tells a good storyFavorite TV showsDoctor Who and Game of ThronesFavorite bands / musical artistspretty much anything except for Country and most Rap. if the lyrics are poetic and the beat is nice, then I'm usually on board. Favorite booksThe Bible, anything by C.S. Lewis, classical literature and theology based writings.Favorite writersC.S.Lewis, Dante, Homer, Plato, Luke of the Bible, St. Augustine, and many more.Favorite gamesReally anything from Bethesda; Fallout 3, New Vegas, Oblivion, Skyrim.Favorite gaming platformPCTools of the Tradethe Bible, my mind, faith, experience, and a means to write it all down.Other InterestsGod, theology, family, friends, writing, outdoors, marksmanship, literature, music, art, and so on.