Father and Son [a poem]

Icarus! Free we are today,
we fly for the mainland nigh.
Our only song is the wind in our hair,
we are free! I cannot be more happy.
Stay close, dear son, let us be away from this place,
it's the right thing to do. Or
have I led you astray? Did I do the right thing?
Nevermind, my son, fly on.
My guidance has gone rotten, my words ring false,
I've brought you to your own ruin!
I am sorry, do you hear? I am sorry!
I tried my best, I promise you that,
but my best ended me up in a tower,
and now it has taken my son.
Your blood on my hands is all I have to remind myself that I was wrong.

a poem, potentially a song

Grab me by my shackles,
tell me everyone's afraid,
my face is falling apart and all my debts are paid.
Claw an X into my chest and tell me "It's okay,
Every now and then most people lose their way."
Look me in the eye and tell me that I look content,
'cuz when I see these saggy eyes I don't think that makes sense.

I reach across my bed and feel just empty space,
My other hand rakes trenches across a bloody tear-soaked face,
Eyes are red, my feet are numb, in this dark frozen place,
Expose my face for no one so I do no harm,
I guess these eyes only do so much without the right amount of charm
So burn my things

Build a pyre of pillows with my effigy in place,
Strike the match across my stubbly visage of disgrace.
Is this how to be a martyr or at least a man of faith?
My God's become my friend, his name's Mortality.
Drop the sulfur-yellow flame and whisper what you want,
Those words will drown in my shouts of protesting your haunt.

I reach across my bed and feel just empty space,
My other hand rakes trenches across a bloody tear-soaked face,
Eyes are red, my feet are numb, in this dark frozen place,
Expose my face for no one so I do no harm,
I guess these eyes only do so much without the right amount of charm.

Changes

(original post date 11-8-08)

I am trying desperately to get my things together and advance in life, and thus far, I feel like I've done a pretty okay job at that. However, I need to announce some things in my life that have changed. I have thought on this subject for about a year now, and I have finally reached a conclusion.

I will no longer use the term straightedge to describe myself.

I have chosen to do this for a number of reasons. Mainly, I wish to no longer live my life based on ultimatum(s). This does not mean I wish to become a drunken fool or a druggie. No, I still pity and almost hate those people. My values still hold firm, this world will never see a drunk or high Jake Lentz (within reason. When I get my wisdom teeth taken out, you bet your ass I'll be taking my strong medication.). My morals hold firm, it is the institution I wish to sever myself from.

In the last five years, I have come to see far too much hypocrisy and far too many double-standards in the "edge community." People would scoff at someone having an alcoholic drink, but down energy drinks like water, and those things are legalized speed, simply put. I have seen people claim edge for short periods of time, just to toss that aside when an opportunity arose for some gain, be it free alcohol or sluts. I have seen morbidly obese people claim to be straightedge.

I no longer wish to call myself a member of this community. While some of my friends are straightedge, truly straightedge, I cannot claim that title anymore. As I said before, I have not changed. However, I do not want to be remembered as a man who lived a cloistered life of ultimatums. I want to be known as a responsible adult. I want people to see me and respect me for reasons other than sobriety, and I feel that calling myself straightedge will not help me a whole lot. And honestly, I just feel like calling myself edge was redundant or pointless.

As I said, I will never be seen inebriated. I have too many people that rely on me, and I would rather die than have to refuse someone because I were intoxicated in one form or another.

If my choice offends anyone, I would suggest you talk to me. I am sure someone will read this and label me an "edge-breaker." That's fine. I know I have a tattoo that says "poison-free." And you know what? I still am. I do not poison myself.

Inspiration in rage

(original date 12-2-08)

I just finished watching The Hulk and The Incredible Hulk. Yeah, both the Eric Bana one and the Edward Norton one. I have always found inspiration in the Hulk. Call me a dork, whatever, but it's true. His power is stemmed from his rage, and I cannot help but feel an affinity there. I have always been a person that has let his temper get the best of him, but it has also given me great determination. Many of the choices I make in life are reactionary to the fallible ideologies or decisions of the general populous of the world I have come to call home. My convictions and my beliefs are what have made me who I am, and without those, I am a hollow shell, and as I said before, most of my ideals stemmed from something that made me very, very angry. I am not wholly an enraged person, nor is Bruce Banner. However, I will continue in my life to be a dour, angry person. This I cannot help.

But know that despite my grumpy, condescending facade, beneath is a person waiting to find solace. I seek only my own corner of a realm of peace or happiness, and I have yet to find that. So until that moment, I will continue to tear my way through life. I have had the support of my family and my true friends, and without them, I would have ended up destroying myself. You have helped me focus myself into something useful, and for that I am eternally indebted. I can't forget to thank all the people who have crossed me as well, for without the handful of people who have taken advantage of my trust and my willingness to love, I would not have fuel for these flames. So thank you all, but don't ever ask anything of me, for you deserve nothing but my contempt.

I sound like a person filled with hate, and occasionally I am that person. At the moment, I am filled with tension and anxiety. A large part of me wants to sprint down McKinley yelling at the top of my lungs, throwing chair and benches until I pass out from exhaustion. Another part of me wants to just walk away from it all, pack up my Zune and hammer (courtesy of the master weaponsmith Bill White) and just walk away. I know that I have countless duties here, but the weight of this world is bending the yoke on my shoulders to its breaking point. I'll not cast these burdens aside, for without them, I would have nothing to expend my determination upon. Without an objective, the Hulk merely destroys or blacks out. I myself would find that the case is similar in my own case. Without the constant emotional labor, I would either self-destruct or just fall into a deep depression. Idle hands...

I am beginning to feel like I should seek out some sort of counseling. I mean, I am not happy, despite my recent successes in life. I feel like everything I do is in vain, and that all the joys I find are completely empty. I am seeking some sort of inspiration. Even my dreams mock me. They are either nightmares about being murdered by my close friends, being seduced by succubi, or reliving past horrors.

I need a muse of some sort.

First post, dude.

Hello, blogspot. I'm Jake. This is my first, preliminary post.

Here's the deal, before I get into new stuff, I am going to import all my old posts from Facebook. Ya dig?

We'll get to know each other really soon, I have a lot to say.

-Jake