Bonded; Father & Son

I've written a lot of material over the summer, which I admit I could have shared here. I didn't. But that changes today. Here's the latest addition to that line of work, finished just a few minutes ago.

'Anchor' Mini Project

I'm kind of on a roll, here. I guess that's what happens when you listen to music that really touches on something you hold close to your heart.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1gNRdc02wcRuwWTUxba-0YkGHX8auIlHp

Like the previous project, it is watermarked.

Edit: Increased transparency of watermark; changed a few lines, added a new one.

Dimming - Mini Project

Well, I've finished a project in one sitting and it's all finished, ready for sharing.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1u_KlHYNHJLgNsbneAjxYdrFqkBeU2X6g

It is watermarked.

A White Lie | "Anguish" Poetry Collection

I lied last time.

I said that I was done with my project, finally at that! Well, as these things tend to do, I suddenly came up with another entry to add to the (now 16 strong) pool of poems. When I read it it does come off as pretty melodramatic, pretty sad stuff, at least if I consider the readers' perspective.

Oh and having talked about it with someone close, I thought I should disclose that I don't want any readers to think that I am actively considering suicide or anything like that. These poems, when released, will be an artistic reflection of the times that have haunted me throughout my life. They will be nothing more than that. After all, the band members comprising the death metal act Cannibal Corpse don't seem to, so far anyway, engage in necrophilia, mass murder, and cannibalism (or any combination thereof) so that logic applies here, too. If I were in dire need of help I'd have sought it already, a long time ago at that.

To bring this post to a close I will state that as of this writing, I am considering all kinds of avenues for publishing. There is the self-publishing route (through a middle-man), the DIY route (the most challenging, painstaking, but surely most gratifying method) or there's considering a publishing house (potentially the most exposure but the least rewarding, should the book be unable to sell more than it costs to put out). I have many options and I have to weigh them all. So this will take a while of course.

-G

"Anguish" Preview | Confinement

I haven't updated this blog in months. It's become a bad habit indeed, but maybe after having completed an actual project (finally!) I'll have mustered the motivation necessary to update this more often, and perhaps more regularly.

But that's neither here or there; this post is about a preview into that "actual project", entitled "Anguish." It will be a collection of poems centering around my very long battle with anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, and inability to be chipper most of the time. I'm going to look into various avenues through which I can publish the collection into a book. Eventually I'll capture a visual element to complement the book, and that, along with visual tweaks of the actual literary element when applied to paper, will find its way into another edition.

Further edits for clarity and for the general fuck of it may be forthcoming until the collection actually gets published for good.

Without further ado, here's a preview of "Confinement." Note: this, along with the rest of the collection, was written in free-verse style.

You became blind

Your heart wrenches

You taste gloom

You see no way out

Your breaths falter

Your heart is in a vice

You recollect life

Your light dims

You beg for escape

You grasp for...something

Your hope now wanes

Your heart begins to break

You then throw it in

You perceive the end

Your lungs collapse

You cannot scream now

You finally glimpse happiness

You gripe at the prospect

You know the awful truth

You know you are in confinement

Deepest Reaches/Dressed in Crimson

Where will the prayer reach when I seek its solace?
I've done the worst of deeds again today
When will the beak that utters an answer with wings
Break the pattern of my voracious stupor?

I'll just wish for a chance to stop
Her essence flows from my hands
I'll just call out my anguish to a non-audience
Her essence peppers the ground

And ye' I know, I took her life this day
Me in my power, and her awash in frailty (an angel if she were)
The visions cleared and ye', dressed were my hands in crimson
Any other way could I choose, I'd clothe them in ash

Where will the prayer I shout finally make way?
I've taken an irreplaceable spark so undeserving
When will the blind cycle of crimson thirst break?
I'm the harbinger of the reaper's soulless aim

Her form lies pale & motionless and I tear
My upward glance is my desperate heart's first chance
I'm reaching out to kill the killing switch
Her essence still peppers the ground

Ye' the mirror breaks as I stare at it red-eyed
Those tears have dried as the splotches on her dress
I still feel her words and I still bask in their meanings
And I stand here aside and urge with outreached red-dressed hands

Where will the prayer I utter ring a willing ear?
I've snuffed out a flame to her bright-burning light
When will I be put on the pedestal of karma?
I cannot forgive my deepest reaches no more