Haiku- Edgar and his Headgear

Haiku- Edgar and his Headgear 

There once was a man
named Edgar, who went and
fell on his headgear

He was so upset that
he didn't get up again-er.
even though he should have

Because the girl of his 
dreams awaited, yet there he sat
deflated, because he was angry. 

His disappointment grew, 
and who knew? He was
such a quiet man then.

No one could understand
him and his disappointment, 
for which there is no ointment

So there he sat, alone.
With no one to phone, for help.
He just pouted there

when people walked by him,
they could only stare at our
sadly clumsy friend, who frowned

Then, his air dissipated, 
and then he was elated
because the girl came

She offered her hand
and he took it gladly then,
because he was saved.

There once was a man
named Edgar, who went and
fell on his headgear

Now he is happy
because he was saved, and yeah,
there was his girl, too. 

Searching For A Light

Searching For A Light

With the eyes of the child he so wished to be, a look of longing flitted across the gentle screen that was his face, and for a mere moment, he was a child. And his thoughts were the same thoughts a child possesses in his meaty grip. And his emotions were tossed in the dizzying jumble that childhood exists as, and he found light in this. Yet as all childhood emotions and thoughts are, the light within them does not last, and simply fades in to the background as if they had never even taken place at all. Forgotten, broken, and torn, he slips back into the experience of manhood, and the world gets smaller, the light becomes lesser, and the goodness of life becomes obscured in the haze of adulthood once more. The clarity of childhood is forgotten, and he sits alone in a room that was once filled with friends. Now he only sees shadows of what once was, ghosts of people laughing around him. The realization of his separation ages him further. Stillness creeps its way into his already slow heart and he feels the lifelessness of pre-conceived existence in its entirety. With this silence, the splendor and pleasure of previous years is shattered, broken, and forgotten. None of it might as well have ever happened.

Yet, here he sits, alone, crushed by the experience of age. His heart is dead, broken in two. The first half died when he became a man, and the other half died when he realized that he is no longer a man either. When he finally notices the broken pieces lying on the ground at his feet, he knows that there is no way to put them back together. No power in heaven or hell can force the two opposing magnetic pieces back, they fight for two separate causes, and they are evenly matched in strength. He will die alone, broken, and forgotten.

His heart still beats, and his eyes are open, and air moves through his lungs. Although he performs the motions necessary for life, his existence only lives on the surface, and he slumbers like a great bear hibernating through winter. Like the bear, the man too will rise again. But where the bear will frolic in the warm embrace of summer, the man will fear its simplicity and will shrink from it.

The unpretentious brazen frankness of the warm sun is too good to be true, it cannot be trusted, so the man hides from what he needs to ensure his survival because he cannot fathom such complete goodness. The ancient bear-man dies alone, broken, and forgotten. He traps himself in this prison, only to awake as a child, with the thoughts of a child, until the dreaming dies and the harsh reality of life takes its place.

Apparently this confuses us, the race of man who rejects simplicity, but only pretends to comprehend complexity, so they exist in a limbo that perhaps does not favor one over the other, yet this idea’s complexity serves as it’s undoing in the mind of man. This realization, could it be a cruel trick of fate? A lesson only learned by time? A sadistic twist on what life perceives itself as? Or what we ourselves perceive life by? Either way, until the man begins to find his life in the mind of a child, spring will not exist to prance about in, as the bear does.

He will die, and he will die alone, forgotten, and terribly broken. Alone, in his misery, that serves as the most confining prison. He will be forgotten, living in his solitary prison, indistinguishable from the rest of his race. When this realization sinks in, will he be broken. His mind and spirit will be dead, while his body lives on, like a child’s little automaton switch that has been left on until the batteries die. Then finally, he, himself, will die.

Death seems to give him only temporary solace from the reality of life, until he awakens with the eyes of a child, and his thoughts are those children have, and he feels the light of innocence again, and all is new. Yet he can’t shake the feeling of impending doom. He already subconsciously feels the light fade a little, just for a second, and he gets a glimpse of reality. That minute dose frightens him, so he envelops himself farther into his innocence, but in doing so, only ends up exposing himself to the waiting adulthood and opening up to the pain of sequential loss that goes with suddenly losing the kingdom of innocence. He becomes a man in full. He knows what he has lost, and he thinks that he knows what he has, but in the idea of knowing, nothing actually exists. Because of his prideful assumption, he ages further, filling his need for light with objects and ideas and fanciful dreams. Of course, he doesn’t stay satisfied for long, so he just keeps searching for more fruitless sustenance. When he looks around and realizes that many of the objects he has sustained himself with are actually pointless, he falls into despair, and he has aged into an old man. His loss of light leaves him empty, and he now recognizes the trivial lie he told himself, and he is left to suffer.

Until merciful death takes him, or he decides to force himself onto death, he will suffer and his despair will hallmark the rest of his mortal existence. And in his realization of the familiarity of this cycle, he will not fall into the same pattern, and will instead create his own. Although he will make his own path, the complexity of his action will cause doubt, and he will never truly be able to achieve peace since he gave that up long ago. Only a new child will be able to live in the way the man wishes that he could, simply because this child lives with the knowledge the man could have never known himself.

The Mirror

Okay, so I suppose this is my first "official" post on here. I suppose it's stupid to say "Enjoy", so I guess I'll just say, "Read and if you enjoy it, awesome, if not, awesome." I think that kind of works... I'll work on it.

The Mirror

Several years ago now, in a restaurant on a bustling street, there was a commotion. It’s not like it was unlike other days, really- the ones where the customers make a stir and everyone gets a free drink because the owner was afraid of losing business- but there was something terribly more sinister at the heart of this dispute.

A man had heard some sort of terrible news on his cellular device, and had caused a stir that would not leave a single witness unscathed. He had been sitting there at his little table alone, eating some sort of liquid broth aggressively when his phone rang. In an instantaneous movement, he flipped his table over onto the ground in a loud spine-chilling crash of metal on tile. Of course, the other patrons were disturbed. The hot soup on the table followed a trajectory and flew at a woman and spilled all over the front of her expensive blouse nearly scalding her, which then prompted her husband to spring from his seat to defend her honor because of how her reputation affected his.

The man with the cell phone had begun to swear and beat his own head and tear at his hair in some sort of strange fit of rage. It didn’t take long before he began grappling with another man just to help him relieve himself of his anger. He grabbed a waiter who had only come over to right the table and apologize and the angry man smacked him fully in the face. The young waiter didn’t waste time balking at his attacker, he simply retaliated with his own meatier punch. The man still clung to his cell phone as he landed hard on his back on the brown floor with a sound of flesh compacting and crunching against ceramic tile.

Then of course, the husband of the woman who had been assaulted by the bowl of soup took his chance to get in a quick blow, and he picked the winded and slightly dented fellow off of the brown tile as if he were a child and threw him down again as if he were a piece of trash. The husband then grunted to himself like an ape. Now that he felt rather proud of his masculinity, he dragged his terrified wife out of the restaurant by using her delicate white wrist like a leash.

With their departure, the whole room became deathly silent. The angry man huffed on the ground and whined about some sort of hernia in some sort of unpleasant cavity, and then he got onto the mature topic of suing. Of course, the manager came over and begged him not to sue, pleading as if her very life depended on his decision. Perhaps it did, I never quite bothered to ask her if she owned the place.

While they bristled and spat at each other, something else was surfacing from the depth of his mind and crawling toward his mouth, attempting to break out. He broke, and there it came, the sob that wrenched out of his very soul made every person in the room flinch as if they had been struck. After his first cry, several people bolted from the small restaurant, others stared, and one or two tried to console the newly broken man.

A child sat with his mother at a high bar stool table, awestruck by the emotional display of pain. He had never seen such intensity and rage from any person he had ever come across. It was difficult to discern if he had been excited or disturbed by this interruption of childhood. The obvious difference though, was that in the span of a minute of action, he had aged about ten years. He was only ten to start with, but now he knew that he could never quite go back to school and pretend that he hadn’t seen something he would carry with him for years until he landed on some therapists’ couch when he was in his mid-thirties. His mother refused to accept that her son would be tainted by such an event, so she dragged him away in much the same fashion as the ape fellow took away his property a minute before.

The waiter who had been attacked had run down the street in embarrassment, he knew that he was fired and that there wasn’t any use coming back because he would probably be held responsible for the whole mess. His jaw smarted with his realization, but his pride had really been the one who had been injured in the scrap. He kept flipping around about what his family would think of their son who had assaulted a customer. No matter what he told anyone, he knew that there wasn’t any hope that someone would take pity on him long enough to believe his story because in the end of the matter, he was indeed held responsible and sued and court-ordered to a long series of anger management classes that would go on his permanent record.

The broken man who would dirty all of our lives simply cried and rocked on the floor like a child. I didn’t move from my seat during the whole event. Even when the ambulance came and carried him out on a stretcher, I did not stir. I barely felt any empathy towards him. The man was so pathetic that I almost wished that the paramedics would drop him to see if they could knock some sense into the blubbering fool.

I simply left exact change for my meal on the table and left the once happy restaurant knowing that I would never eat there again. None of us who witnessed the breakdown of a man could ever leave that restaurant unchanged.

I saw something that day, I saw the true nature of man. A fickle, selfish, cruel beast that only cared for himself. It was not from the man on the ground where I found this realization, I discovered it when I saw my reflection in the mirror behind him that hung like a monstrous window into another world. Perhaps a world of truth. One better than the one in which we live.

Well, I suppose you're expecting a big hello-entire-universe-cliched-enterance-into-the-internet. Because of that, I had to burst your bubble and do the even MORE cliched thing and make a joke about greeting the entire planet. Yes, I fell into my own cliche. It's hypocrisy, don't worry, I know.

So I suppose I can share a quick blurb