A Mountain High Enough...

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 03:21:20 +0000

“There was no legal requirement to shoot to kill. However, for troops deployed on the border, commendations and bonuses for guards who had shot and killed escaping fugitives, ideological indoctrination of young draftees and soldiers, and laws that under certain circumstances criminalized escape attempts all tended to transform the “permission” to use weapons into a kind of obligation to use them.”

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:44:08 +0000

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:37:22 +0000

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:31:31 +0000

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:22:08 +0000

On the winds

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 02:09:12 +0000

All wounds? Times heals all wounds?

Surely that’s the old adage.

But like most bits of wisdom, it says one thing while meaning another.

Time? No, time heals nothing – at least not the things that matter.

What have you lost? A wallet? A watch?

Time can heal that.

What have you lost? A lover? A friend?

Time can’t take back the part of you that lived with them. The part that made you care for them so much.

The part you lost with them.

Ironic, that they say time heals, because over time, as we lose more and more of ourselves, the part of us

that is so good and bouncing back, at picking ourselves up off of the floor, – yea, that part- well that part gets lost too.

It becomes embittered, rebellious, and eventually, forgotten.

We slide back into our mediocre pocket of the world, a place we know is safe because nothing changes. We

don’t change. The only things that don’t change in life are dead, but the winds have already blown us away.

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:57:52 +0000

Let’s quit on this – ’cause I need space now
That’s what you said to me – that’s what you did to me
Where did this start and where does it end now
What do you came for
I’ve never been so sure

And I whisper while you speak
And I scream while you sleep
But I always will be where you are
And when silence turns into hate
It’s time to communicate
And I always will be where you are

Here’s what it takes to take a stand now
You’d better speak your mind
You’d better ease your mind
Where did we start and where do we go now
Was it your plan to leave – everything up to me?

And I whisper while you speak
And I scream while you sleep
But I always will be where you are
And when silence turns into hate
It’s time to communicate
And I always wïll be where you are

Window to the world

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:53:11 +0000

“So, the usual, an eighth, right?” the dealer asked.

“Yea,” his customer responded, “yea, sounds good, same price, right? $60″

“For sure bro, best damn chronic for 100 miles.”

“Alright.”

Cash changes hands and the buyer palms his small bag.

“This is me now,” he thinks to himself, “me and all the rest of us – you know us. Not happy people with perfect lives. The fringe-dwellers. The only ones who are really awake. We hit our mid-life crisis when we were twelve. And because the world is a far harsher place than we once imagined, we live on the edge, we mock our own dreams, we slide by our whole lives.

Glass is beautiful, but once it’s broken, that’s it. That’s all. We have shattered our window to the world and have seen its true face.

We cannot go back. What does that life hold for us? Lies…no truth.

We will never be satisfied.”

Shrapnel

philcafu — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 01:44:45 +0000

“Sometimes, in the night, when we are most vulnerable, the room starts to melt away.

In this complete and final darkness, I can see with utmost clarity, the moments of my life.

Have you ever lost something without knowing what it was?

You still feel that emptiness in the pit of your stomach letting you know that everything’s not OK.

Maybe the fact that you don’t know what you’ve lost is the most important clue of all.

Have you lost something important? Or have you lost what it could have been?

What could have been? Enlightening? Exhilarating?

…Lifechanging?

Oh well.

Truth and beauty are interesting words, but at the end of the day, shrapnel is shrapnel, and I am alone with the things that I’ve done.”

philcafu — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 17:05:03 +0000

Shakedown 1979, cool kids never have the time
On a live wire right up off the street
You and I should meet
Junebug skipping like a stone
With the headlights pointed at the dawn
We were sure we’d never see an end to it all
And I don’t even care to shake these zipper blues
And we don’t know
Just where our bones will rest
To dust I guess
Forgotten and absorbed into the earth below
Double cross the vacant and the bored
They’re not sure just what we have in store
Morphine city slippin dues down to see
That we don’t even care as restless as we are
We feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts
And poured cement, lamented and assured
To the lights and towns below
Faster than the speed of sound
Faster than we thought we’d go, beneath the sound of hope
Justine never knew the rules,
Hung down with the freaks and the ghouls
No apologies ever need be made, I know you better than you fake it
To see that we don’t even care to shake these zipper blues
And we don’t know just where our bones will rest
To dust I guess
Forgotten and absorbed into the earth below
The street heats the urgency of sound
As you can see there’s no one around