Tuesday, January 29, 2013

First Publish? Paid To Get Published? Probably. A Poem From 1998.

Found this gem in a box my parents gave me. Forgot this was around for years and years, but is interesting to see it again. Pretty sure my getting published involved buying a copy of this book for $40. The poem is more cringe-worthy than print-worthy; likely pay-to-play was the culprit.

This tome, filled with numerous masterpieces other than mine, is actually available for borrowing and downloading. Thirteen people so far have maybe read my words. About on par with all my blog posts here. Ha!

Here is my entry as written. Please forgive the grammar and such...


"My Way of Seeing"

A Sneaky Name by Sneaky Snakes.
On the wings of a breeze, heart laden with sorrow,
lives fall like leaves come the morrow.
Bracing myself for the pain that I fear,
which is destined to come this time of year.
The time of year when all things will change,
the time my future will be rearranged.

Forced surrounding change my being.
Changes the world by my way of seeing.
Changes my friends, and all which I love.
Changes the peace that rains from above.
Changes my dreams and all that I hold
close to my heart that slowly grows cold.
Changes my face, or so I've been told,
bringing no wisdom, though I seem to grow old.


Connecting Dots of the Universal Consciousness via Sacred Geometry, Pinecones, phi, and Perception

May I have 7m55s of your time please?

Having been inspired by a friend's PechaKucha presentation in Grand Rapids, I put my own together. The gig was on Devil's Night, 2012 at Stella's Lounge. Below are the images and the "scripted" text I put together. If you prefer to just skip ahead, you can watch the edited video here, or just click on the YouTube vid below. I assure you that in this instance, the book rivals the movie...

1. Altar Boy

St. Thomas church, Grand Rapids. 1988?
Eleven years old. Brought up in a Catholic community but not in the schools. This is when I was still innocent enough; still believing what I was told. Close to a community of love but still removed from the practicalities of the "real world." Not just due to schools and growing up in East Grand Rapids. It has all shaped me. 

Does this knowledge affect your perception of me or my words?

2. Prison Picture
MDOC Picture. 

Jump ahead eight years, to nineteen, and I am in prison, which brings us to this spot. Age twenty-nine and in the tenth year of my incarceration. Out of whack, had been for a long time. Alcohol, drugs, confusion about my sexual orientation -I am not that person anymore, but it is still me, still Ryan. Does this knowledge affect your perception of me or my words?

3. Manure Photo
Everything has its place.

But the bullshit stopped a while ago. Things became clear. I opened my eyes, heart and soul, and realized/remembered there is beauty everywhere. In connection with ourselves, with others, with nature and food, honest communication with children and establishing a pure signal flow with all you come in contact with.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Limits: When five minutes is all that exists.

No more over editing. Not everything has to be polished before presenting and goddamn it if I stop typing for more than three seconds it is all a waste.

If not for this physical time limit of five minutes, this entry would probably take hours to finish. My repeated failed attempts at channeling my thought flow as it is happening still mystify me. Every fucking thing does not have to be perfect to be presented. Enough with the thesaurus and searching for synonyms. This is my conscious flow.

With the limit and the realization that only this many words have manifested during the five minutes, I am led to believe that I am still....aaaaannnnd time is up.....

.....still censoring myself due to my perception of someone else's future possible perception of my word choice. Essentially nothing has happened, yet I am reacting as though it has.

Crazy huh?

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Stream of Consciousness Writing.

Shove me. Love me. Hug me. Drug me.

Blocking both noise and negative outside influence becomes a struggle as my wherewithal wears continuously more thin. As I question my own perceptions and ask why things seem as they do, I am reminded through truth, that truth hurts. It hurts because it is raw, bare and stripped of all duplicity. Honesty strikes a chord because it remains largely unseen in its purest form and also because it still causes confusion when presented as fact. Without honesty there is nothing, yet many of us refuse to accept even that basal truth. We believe people tell us the truth when asked to, but sometimes even that belief loses out due to the overriding (and common) perception that everyone lies. Or that no one is honest all the time. Or that everyone has an angle. Or the belief that people are only out for themselves.

Or what? What? What now?

When does the stimulation end? 

When does the simulation end? 

Ever? Never? My choice?

I wonder: Who's energy am I responsible for? Mine? Sure. Yours? Yes? No? But our energies affect each other (so I do have a role in you?) whether it is obvious at the time or even is recognized as it is happening. It can not be denied that humans affect whatever we come in contact with. This should be obvious as most everything we see and experience has been allowed to exist, or exists purely, because of human interaction/intervention. A perceived need was identified, a solution was required, and now to prove that we humans are doing it all fucking wrong, I present the very real existence of 8,500 Walmarts and 34,000 McDonald's as the realized answer.


Horror Scope. A Capricorn hits the beginning and/or end of another liminal space.

How Could She Have Known?

A Silly Disclaimer: Please be familiar with the Forer Effect as you get into this. The link will take you to Wikipedia which elaborates on my simple explanatory paragraphs below.


Sometimes we see exactly what we choose to see. We see what we need to see in that instant or for that moment, perhaps. Situationally, we adapt our beliefs to allow a resonance where one may not naturally exist in the hopes of finding comfort. It is common enough. I do it and you do as well from time to time because blending in is a primal survival tactic deeply ingrained in us all. If I believe I cannot be seen, it becomes far easier to disappear and stay alive for one more day.

When a statement, represented here by my Bday clipping, is general (or kind) enough it becomes quite easy to see "myself" mirrored in the description. Although I may feel that I know my "self" better than anyone else may, who doesn't like feeling special and unique? Even if for a brief second while reading the horoscope, there is validation to be found when allowing a small amount of belief to be temporarily suspended. As everything cycles its way back to perception, we must remember that even a brief change in focus reveals previously hidden brilliance.

Grand Rapids Press newspaper clipping from January 2nd 1977.
Grand Rapids Press. Found in a box, saved from years ago.

Although this most recent birthday is already old news and was largely similar to prior years save the number - 36 - a few special things did manifest. Some familiar activities led to new discoveries. Unfamiliar days and odd, odd numbers finally added up to a tangible sum. Conversations lacking any pretense were enjoyed and explored. Bared naked as ever yet fully clothed. Paths crossed. Paths convened. A false path was briefly entertained even as my true path was once again lit brightly by the sun. I was alone. I was not alone. I attracted and repelled. I felt and saw hairs turning grey. Wrinkles formed and cracked my skin and I allowed it all to happen. I cried. I was always with me.

I finally slept and it was a deep, refreshing sleep. Fresh wrinkles and grays revealed themselves in the morning mirror as a proof and mockery of my aging. But with the new came an old. Something that wasn't noticeably present before has resurfaced and it will not fall into a state of disrepair anytime soon.

Carrying a constant reminder of truth allows for it to never fall away.

With the new year and my birthday being so close, I have always appreciated the metaphorical flip of the calendar. I can be fresh and new just like the year. Clean slates to go around! On the house, even...

Maybe I am just choosing comfort, but certain elements of the horoscope above manage to explain me quite accurately. One part describes a lesson I should have learned dozens of times over, as I continue to circle the answer without landing. A sentence or two could have seemingly been written by me, about me. Who knows?

Guy smiling with glasses and a blanket.
Older. Bolder. Warmer.
Coincidences are bullshit. True.

Lots of people like pizza. True.

So many people see themselves as sensitive and affectionate. True.

Tons of people react strongly and powerfully to situations. True.

Over 150,000 people were born on January 2nd, 1977. True.

I was one of them and I am not invisible. Fucking 'A.


Merry Easter.