Can a morning really be good?

When someone greets another with a good morning, it is often returned with an automatic echo. Nary a thought is given to the term as if it is simply a meaningless term one has been programmed to say in passing familiar faces. Are people just compelled to say something in passing others that 'Good Morning' is a safe, impersonal, expression used to acknowledge others? Given some thought, can a morning really be universally good? Can everyone's idea of what makes a morning good be identical insofar that the meaning of the term 'Good Morning' is implicit and needs no further thought? It seems to me that a morning cannot be universally good for everyone. The word good in reference to a morning, as in every other application of the word, seems to be subject to a person's frame of mind, the weather, and whether the day holds the promise of a special event.

Starting the day in a positive frame of mind is a good indication of whether the person's view of the morning will be good. That is not to say that all those optimists will see every morning as good rather they simply present a greater chance of this view. A person in a foul mood, whether from lack of sleep or a general lack of happiness of just being alive, would have a harder time of viewing anything as good, including something benign as a morning. Likewise, someone living in the fog that settles around some when dealing with a tragedy would have a tough time viewing a morning as good. They say sunshine helps ease depression so maybe it would apply to help the other malcontents begin the day with a good morning.

The sun is a golden ball of energy that helps right the chemical balance in our brains so is the weather the key determining factor in whether a morning is good. If we all could agree on the ideal weather than perhaps this would be so but it seems not everyone enjoys the same type of weather. Some like living in an oven regardless of whether the sun is out adding it's positive influence to the body while others don't care about temperatures as long as the earth's light source is clearly visible. Some are so adamant about their ideal weather that anything else is unacceptable and is likely to lead to ill feelings about the morning.

Even the weather might be seen as irrelevant for those who have something special planned for the day. One who is celebrating a birthday or anniversary or any other of life's milestones that are generally viewed as happy events would be more inclined to see things in a good manner. Even upcoming events can lead to a positive outlook of a day. Friday mornings, with the work week's shadow stretched almost to its maximum, has a surprisingly cheerful affect on many even though they still have a full day's work ahead of them. Others in the same vantage point, however, might have to attend one of those mandatory events that people only go to because they feel an obligation during one of their days off and are not overjoyed by the prospect, therefore, viewing the morning before with an impending dread leading to an other than good morning.

The common element, it seems, that decides whether a morning is good is a person's view. Their view of life, their view on the weather, and their view on upcoming events all help in shaping how a person views each morning. If everyone's views were the same then we could easily pin down what exactly makes a morning good and could therefore, know, each morning, whether it is a good one or not. Alas, people are different and their views are different so we will continue our empty, meaningless, robotic salutes each morning whether we view the day as good or bad.

Escape is Possible!

A room, once blossoming with light is now encased in deep, dark shadows. Shadows that for the past several months, maybe even years, were trying to creep out from the every corner, ooze out of every crack in the walls and scale down every wall to unleash its ravenous desires and suffocate the inhabitants. The most recent occupant fought not only the dark force in the room but also those disguised in sheep’s clothing that secretly promoted the advance of darkness. With admirable effort this beautiful warrior defeated the persistent darkness daily and resisted the nothingness that the shadows offered.

While battling her own demons, this warrior still found time for others in need, even when those needs paled in comparison to her own. She found solace in helping others. By helping us common folk overcome our obstacles, great and small, her true calling revealed itself. It became clear to her that pushing papers doused in red ink was among the last things she wanted to spend her days doing, despite the startling contrast the red made on her workplace. This warrior worked endlessly to gain the knowledge necessary to pursue her dreams and after many months of searching, her path diverged. With minimal hesitation she “took the one less traveled by”.

So with a heavy heart our noble warrior left the shadows behind and, holding her head high, walked onward to greater things. As she walked away, her eyes hid nothing. It pained her to leave the weaker of us to fend off the shadows alone. But those she did leave behind know the struggles she faced and are beaming with ecstasy for this fearless warrior in her victory over the darkness. They are hoping she has found that elusive utopia we all seek. Although it is a good bye of sorts, they will never forget her and hope the same in return.

Similar to the Robert Frost poem quoted above and below (The Road Not Taken): she

…shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

To our fearless warrior, good luck and please keep in touch.

Yet Another Classic

I think I need to set this one up for you all. Like all the others thus far, I wrote this song in high school and it was based on true events. At the time this was written, someone was running around killing people in a town in British Columbia. To add to this I was starting to get into some heavy music (Cannibal Corpse) that deals with the grotesque side of things. I have warned those of you I work with that you may see me in a different light after reading this and I really didn't want to post this but I cannot disappoint the few readers I have.

Murderous Ways

I feel myself slipping away
I fight to stay awake
Because as I drift to sleep
My thoughts become clearer
My urge to kill awakes
As I jump to my feet
I walk zombie like
Towards the kitchen cupboard
It's too late to turn around
The need for death is strong at hand

I leave the house
My victim soon to be found
Thoughts of death haunt my mind
As I attack them from behind
They never see me coming
With my knife in hand
They only feel my wrath
And never see my face

They have no chance to run
As I drag them to an alley
I feel their bodies tense
And know how scared they are
Nothing matters to me
'Cuz I enjoy the pain they feel

I take pride in my kills
And know they can't find me
No evidence is left behind
Except the rotting corpse
The blood soaked body lies
Waiting to be found
So more lives can be affected
By my murderous ways
No one's left unscarred
By my murderous ways.

I personally like the last few lines, as it was the basis for the song. When murder happens, especially serial or multiple murders, the fear of more murders grips the entire area and holds the citizens hostage. In this instance, I was slightly affected by these random attacks and I was miles or rather kilometres away from the actual events. I cannot even begin to imagine how those directly affected by events similar to the one described above really feel but they definately are not alone in their fear and anger.

I just want to emphasize that the feelings and thoughts in the above song lyrics have never really entered my mind other than for this song. Sure I have wished certain people were dead but I never considered helping them along at all, well at least not seriously and no where close to as savagely as described here. I hope I have put everyone's mind at ease so I don't receive any strange looks from behind pillars or desks.

Untitled

This following poem was based on an experience shared between myself and a friend several years ago; another lifetime ago is how it seems, one where the future was bright and the glass always full...of whiskey sours. She sent me a poem and I in turn was inspired to return the favour and this is what was created, or at least I think this is my version of things. Neverthless, it is nice poem and it serves as a reminder that once a moment has passed one cannot get it back.

One moment
Captured in time
By a few words
Written in prose.
A warm memory
Shared by two souls
Bound together
By the first-timeness
Of the moment.

A moment of reflection
Brought on by nature's creation.
Between light and dark
A first star lit up
Shining with the weight
Of the moment's indecision.
A wish to be had
No wish to be made
By two souls
Who were caught
By the first-timeness
Of the moment.

Lost In The Crowd

My life is a mess,
Nothing's sinking in.
Don't understand
How no one can see.
I need some help now,
Why can't you see?
Feeling lost
And all alone.
No one really cares
About the war inside of me.
Can't deal with this stress
And wasting of time.
I'm hurting inside,
Why can't you see?
Please, please help me!
Help me while you still can.
Can't take this no longer
Wish I were stronger
But I can't keep this up
And fulfill my dreams.
I need some help now,
But I've been
Lost in the crowd.

A Tragic Day

A sunny day.
A bright blue sky.
A hundred sit
Helplessly;
Hopelessly;
Unknowingly.

A silent sky
Broken by
A flash of light.
A fatal flight
The engines ignite.
Plane's engulfed
In a fiery death.

Crashes down,
It hits the ground.
Nothing left
But a mess of debris.
(What a gory scene)

A morbid day.
A hundred lay,
Dismembered.
As millions sit
Horrified.

A hundred died.
Millions cried.
On this tragic day.

Orange Juice

Here is another of my early poems / song lyrics / ramblings (take your pick). This one is totally mindless but I find it quite humourous, I hope you all do too.

Orange Juice

Orange juice,
Nicknamed OJ.
I drank two glasses
This morning.
If it's suppose to be
'Morning Sunshine',
Then why the fuck
Am I so
Pissed off.

I will be posting a couple more of my poems / lyrics in the coming days. I have two more in mind that are a couple of my favourites but the rest really are not worthy of posting (or so ridiculous as to be funny as in this case).

Pyromaniac!

Recent events have reminded me of a poem/song I wrote way back in high school that I want to share with everyone (unfortunately there are not too many other poems, etc from my high school days that are fit to share, to many expletive deletives would be needed). Enjoy!

PYRO

I feeel
Like a
Pyro.
A pyro.
I feel
The need
To light
A fire.
A fire.
Strike a match.
Watch the flames.
Owe,
I burnt
My hand.
Strike
A match
Again.
Again.
Use
Some gas.
Ignite
Your house.
Watch
The flames.
Listen.
Hear
The sirens.
The water.
Nooooooo.
The fire is
Dead.
Gone.
Dead.

Definately not one of my best but quite entertaining; good for a few laughs at least.