Edward St. Joseph
Suicide Over a Bowl of Rice Crispies
When I was a younger man, I spent some time searching for a connecting principle: something to keep the pages together, to keep making sense of this life day in and day out. What I found was: invisible, almost imperceptible, completely intangible, and yet when The Principle connects, it’s only cause and effect – An Incessant Daydream of voices, people, events, all traveling through the dark dreary subways of our minds.
by edward st. joseph
Sleep was impossible last nite, or many of the past nites for that matter. At times I found myself looking around at my 4 walls that I’ve to come know as my home. As I look around, many of these ancient artifacts are completely unfamiliar to me. Unfamiliar, like a lover you haven’t seen in awhile, who bumps into you in the middle of the nite while you’re dreaming wide awake; there’s something there but in reality there is nothing there.
How could it be that these relics are supposed to remind me of a thing called childhood; that these trinkets of time are supposed to bring a KOOL AID SMILE TO my face. How is that I ask? Truth be told, I can only remember from age 10 till now. So maybe it doesn’t matter, perhaps these vestiges lingering in my home are only forced superstitions of society solidified by the people we call: parents, friends, family, government, authority, all of it being symbols of both freedom and fear. And the time past is now only regurgitated false memories resting on an oar lost at sea, a part of a once prestigious battle ship, now only wreckage and debris scattered for many miles, leaving a forgotten message in a bottle drifting and eventually landing ashore.
I find this bottle and read what has come to pass and I begin to wonder. Wonder about what I am, or who I thought I was going to be, or be what I thought I am, or finally become who all of us are; an indirect representation of a fable unfolding, not morals or lessons, but a frequency that must be clear, and only then, can the beast be released and all we have come to know will be right before us. Even when presented with such a fantastical-illusion, I still come to one basic conclusion, that I’m still not sure who or what it is I am; until this suicide is pure, assumptions are made, we act as we see in order for us to know what we feel – El SPIRITUS SANCTI . Perchance that last hydroponic-mushroom-bologna sandwich pushed me overboard (Thinking about it) Nah.
I’m confident of one thing, however, that a Higher Being, an effigy created by many, is responsible for the reasons I breathe, love, hate, and live. As my self-descriptive dream once told me when I was awake “I’m a living organism, which many years of: drinking, drugs, self destruction, the occasional attempt at the taking over the world, and on Sundays helping a kitten from a tree, has made me who I am.” But I have a hard time distinguishing if the voices in my head are right, or if the voices that come out of my head thru my mouth are right, or if this message really has any meaning at all. One thing is clear, known, and factual. Life is a deeper darker order of things, a series of events, which are hidden below the surface and only rise to breathe the air of synchronous collisions allowing us to believe. So bring forth your commandments, bring forth your scripture, bring forth your gospel, bring forth your Pseudo-Sire of religious rhetoric and watch it dwindle away as you search blindly in a sea of fire for that oar holding your fractured-faith and broken-beliefs afloat; while you drown from the hypocrisy of who you are. (Maybe I should stop chewing on this cocaine leaf? Maybe that last white LINE was too much too fast?) Thinking about….nah
The second part of this message depicts a man walking onto the surface from the sea eventually ending up at a white door without a knob and a black key in his pocket. His thoughts drift in and out of reality, much like mine, his glibness- superficial charm is much like mine, and yet we are miles, if not years, if not universes away – VERITAS TENEBRAE. Each of us on opposite sides of the door, simultaneously we enter, and exit together but on separate parallels we call our world; I was gone and back again that same day. How we opened it, I don’t know, what was on either side, I can’t remember, but together we are separate and when we are separate we are one, much like a servant to a master, however, this time we serve a darker purpose. Silently, I now sit, in the back of your mind profiling you as my next victim. I’m standing in line with you, waiting for the next bank teller, or maybe lying next to you in bed looking you down and up; angrily killing you with my thoughts and desperately desiring to touch you with my hands. Gripping your throat seductively and sinisterly in my mind, suffocating you slowly, I mumble into your ears how the murder will take place. I control you now. You dance for me like marionette puppets on the foothills of insanity; while resting in my hands of fate. As I keep reading, the message continues to deliver; conversations held in the dark, close to home and close to heart. I am not the killer. However, I do believe that at times I’m being murdered over and over again, in a private night mare I share with all that dream each and every night; an unintended consequence suffered from walking through the white door.
The third and final part of this message, has taken me back to 1588 upon The Spanish Armada. I spent time on deck, observing thru the eyes of its red cell skeleton crew. I witnessed horrific carnage, mayhem, and chaos created by these ever-burning spirits who light up the sky with wind-talkers of their own, delivering their own doctrine of death, rowing and screaming madly through the waves of our mind. I spent time with its captain cutting throats on an endless spree, never knowing the consequence, can make things all that more exciting. At any rate, like many fantastically-phenomenal INTENSE DRUG ALTERED STATES (did you like all that in caps I do because I am TRIPPING hARD RiTe now) it has to come to an end. At bay my mind is held hostage: thoughts, words, desires, fears, and its overdressed government with outdated uniforms and opinions offering false hope to banishing barnacles called sailors, are all being held hostage by me. I no longer have a Ticket to MARs, my body is now tired and it now searches for rest…MY GOD MAN..SLEEP. Fortunately for everyone here, I have lost myself in an everlasting stream of unconsciousness, created without my knowledge, moving from the inside out, it meshes into one big persona, a persona that is larger than me, Something so LARGE that even its creator can no longer keep the beast contained, a hunger everlasting into the darkest corner of your fears: for an IDEA can never be killed; FOR I AM ROCK N ROLL HIGH ON COCAINE
MY CLOWN
by edward st. joseph
Although you may see the faces laughing
It doesn’t matter much anymore
I’ve been around before
The party’s laughter and noise
Is left behind a closed door
It’s only a shadow in the audience waiting for an encore
I’ve been thinking bout dying
I’ve been thinking bout lying
I;ve been thinking bout crying
I’ve been thinking and drinking
And I can’t leave this butterfly behind
Disappearing down beneath my feet
Left here to roam
Far from the windy beach
Down pass our dirty street
Disappearing into your past
It’s only Living for today just to forget about tomorrow
I’ve been wondering
I’ve been holding
I’ve been alone in my dream
Cornered into a corner
Deep and twisted inside my Elysium
Staring at darkness thru a moonbeam
Far from who I am, so I can’t be seen
Just the same like everyone else with a name.
Down in my heart u can see
I’m becoming ageless
alive but still breathless
Full of bitter callousness
Wide awake unconscious
Behind a harness
Pulled by puppets
Just like US
Learning to forget by remembering
No matter how much I push it away
I see it all slip away
Because he hurts you, you love him
And you love him, because he hurts you
I’ve been thinking bout dying
I’ve been thinking bout lying
I;ve been thinking bout crying
I’ve been thinking and drinking
And I can’t leave this butterfly behind
