Tell Me How it Feels

tell me how it feels

Close your eyes and picture this
A loving smile, a tender kiss
Now tell me how it feels to fall
To hear life’s warning, to heed love’s call

A soft caress aside your face
Held in a kind and gentle embrace
Now tell me how it feels to dream
When the loneliness inside you screams.

A single tear on delicate skin
Comes from somewhere deep within
Now tell me how it feels to cry
Without the strength inside to try.

A moan of pleasure, it feels so good
Making love as lovers should
Now tell me how it feels to lust
When you don’t have the will to trust.

A look of anger, boiling blood
Rage, a river, the coming flood.
I’ll tell you why it feels so great
To finally know what it’s like to hate.

©2015 Alexander J. Hicks

Liar

I look around and what falls within my sight is different
It’s darker here, not black, but darker.
There is still sun here
It’s just buried within dark ominous clouds

I’m not afraid of the dark though
I’ve been in the dark before
But this is different.

Because this time no one is there to help me out of it.
There’s no one reaching for my hand to pull me free
No one to help me up if I should fall.
I’m alone here – truly alone.

In some ways I expected it.
To be betrayed by the ones I trusted
Because it’s happened so many times in the past.
But it hurts more this time.
The knife went deeper.

Do you remember what you said to me?
“You walk this path alone
but your friends are still there with you.
If you turn around we won’t be gone”

But when I turned around…
You were gone.
All of you…are gone.

You lied to me. You lied.

To be fair…I lied as well.
Because I told you that I trusted you
But how could I?
When all my life all I’ve heard is lies?
Lies and excuses.
Why should you be any different?

You’re a liar. Just like the rest of them.

But it’s okay…
So am I.

The Rising Ire

The Rising Ire
It’s beautiful really, don’t you think?
The red that fills your eyes.
The rage replacing rationality
The one that’s sick of lies.

The rising ire from betrayal
With the knife still in your back
The blade that sits and numbs the flesh
The ropes that hold you to the rack

You try to fight it with naught but reason
But it defies your rationality
It fills you with a dark desire
and it disputes your reality

The knife is there you can’t refute
In your back the cold of steel
Radiates into your core
And anger is all you feel.

Give in to passionate beast
The indignation in your heart
The monster lurks inside of you
Let it tear you apart.

©2015 Alexander J. Hicks

Reflection of an Animal

Reflection of an Animal

Can I forever run away?
No, I’ll get you in time.
I can’t let them see me this way.
But they all see you’re mine.

I want to break free from the beast
But I’ve bound your hope in chains
I want freedom, love and peace
But you’ll fall to me, insane.

I want to break the ties that bind
But they’re stronger than you see
To look to light, answers to find
And you’ll always fall to me.

I can’t see the one who holds me down
But I’m always by your side
I can’t hear the creature not a sound
Your own anger leaves you blind

I just want the voice to stop
But It will not for we are one
In every action, every thought
Until our final setting sun.

©2014 Alex Hicks

A Window to my Conscience – Entry II

I had a dream last night. It took me to a place where I go every so often to get away from it all. From all the anxiety and stress, from the torment and the hate, from everything. It always looks the same:

A beautiful river about 250 meters across, with a wide concrete beam bridge spanning it. On either side of the river, wooden docks float with the tide along thick concrete abutments. On the far side of the river, I see a town. Trees look like paint brushes painting the blue into the sky, houses look like models nestled into the green luxurious landscape.

Jutting into the sky on my side of the river is a carnival. A ferris wheels, a roller coaster and various other rides shoot up like towers. Lights flash and buzzers ding and whirl, the sounds of people winning (and losing) at the various prize booths. Screams echo as the cars on the roller coaster drop down another hill, inside a tent a circus master stands on an elephant trumpets triumphantly. Everything is painted in bright hues of greens and reds and yellows, even the entertainers are colourful some in baggy clown suits with huge red shoes and big floppy bows and flowers, and some of the workers in the booths wearing colourful striped top hats. In the river beside the carnival there are lots of river boats. They too, are bustling with activity, colours and lights; probably part of the carnival I figure.

I sit looking up the river. On my left is the river and across it the beautiful, tranquil landscape and to my right sits the flashing lights and bright colors of the carnival. Behind me sits the beam bridge bustling with people and cars crossing to and from the carnival. Yet here I sit. I always just sit. I’m happy there, at peace; I can stare at the beautiful sights around me, and feel at rest with the world; nothing can phase me.

carnival_web

That’s the place I usually go. I usually just walk around, play a few carnival games, talk to some of the workers, then wake up. But this time…this time was different:

This time I stood inside one of the carnival buildings. Abandoned shop walls lined the sides of each of the three floors. Stuffed animals falling apart hanging from prize racks. Bright colors all faded and tinted with grays from old age.

On the opposite side of the building I could hear music; classical music. I approached it only to see a crowd of people dressed in ragged and torn up clothing. Some of them sitting on the ground smiling and laughing and some of them dancing. Not dancing to the rhythm of the music, just dancing. Like they were listening to their own music in their head, or that they were hearing different music than what I was hearing. It was apparent to me that they were homeless, all ages, but mostly teenagers and young adults.

I moved up to the second floor where I saw more people. Not happy people, but sad people. There weren’t very many of them, and they were all walking around. Just pacing around the floor, stepping over or around obstacles, some of them wringing their hands together and others biting their lips and staring at the floor. I started walking with them too. I was wringing my hands in front of me and biting my lower lip as I looked around at all the lost people here.

That was it; this must be where the lost people go.

One of them approached me and without stopping he asked me why I was here. I nodded a hello at him and said “I don’t know” to which he responded with “me either” then just appeared to fade from my sight. I stopped and watched as he just faded into nothing while he was walking. It didn’t even appear to phase him. He was just gone.

I decided to leave the building. I walked down the stairs and the music had stopped and the people were gone. I walked past one person on my way out of the building and we nodded hello to one another, but never exchanged words. Outside, it looked a lot like it had inside.

Zone-of-Cool-no-more-at-abandoned-six-flags-New-Orleans

Mini-game booths stood (for the most part) ragged torn and falling apart, the ground was littered with napkins and faded tickets. Trash cans had been tipped over, their contents spread on the ground around them. A couple boats still stood in the river, but most of them were on their sides resting against the chipped and worn concrete abutments. The river looked dark, almost black and a heavy fog sat around the carnival. I could make out the shape of the bridge in the distance, what was left of it anyway. A section appeared to have collapsed in the center leaving two concrete ends and the corner of a large chunk sticking out of the darkened water. I couldn’t see the other side of the river.

Then I saw it. The bench where I usually sat was in pieces. Splinters of wood and chunks of concrete scattered on the ground.

I turned around to see a man in an orange vest walking off of a pier where there was some rusty scaffolding. I called out to him with a “hey! do you work here?” he walked over to me and leaned on a short wall beside him. “Yeah” he said, his voice was heavy with a Boston accent.

“How long has it been like this?” I asked him looking at the worn and decrepit carnival around me. “I remember it being so beautiful here.”

“Beautiful?” He replied raising an eyebrow “Naw, it’s always been like this.”

It’s always been like this…

That’s when my alarm woke me up.

I believe that dreams have deeper psychological meaning than we usually give them, and I get the feeling that this one relates to recent events in my life. When I woke up, I was initially sad about it, but then I was angry. Angry that the happy, upbeat place that I loved so much had turned into such a depressing, morose dark place.

anger-by-Caleb-Roenigk-500x333

I think I realized why it appeared the way it did. Your mind creates your dreams from things you see and hear in your life; even if you don’t think you remember it. My mind created the life-filled colorful carnival by mashing together things I’ve seen in my life.

My mind created my happy place, and my mind could tear it down; and it did.

But what emotion could cause my subconscious mind to destroy something that had been so beautiful? Anger and anxiety. But anger? I haven’t been angry in a long time…ah…that’s the problem.

I realize now, that over the past 3 years there has been plenty that should have made me angry. What I thought was me not getting angry, was actually me not letting myself feel angry and internalizing everything. This dream made me realize that by internalizing my anger, I am slowly destroying myself. I’m letting my subconscious mind tear down the things that I’ve tried to hard for so long to build.

anger-708x404

It’s time to let the anger go. I’m going to write down everything I can think of that should have made me angry in the past year. Then I’m going to bury it as deep as I can.

It’s time I let the anger go…

It’s time I move on.

530771_472632552796786_2044959913_n

A Little More About Me. And Why I’m Angry.

No, I’m not angry with my readers. I’m angry with my family, and with some of my local friends. And here’s why:

Recently I posted something explaining that someone important in my life had been arrested and is being charged with something that I find to be the most despicable of crimes.

Now, my readers may not know this, but I find children to be the most beautiful thing in this world. They are the essence of innocence and deserve as much respect and protection as our elders do, if not more. They are the future and when we are dead and gone, they will run the world and they deserve to be treated as such. Not to be spoiled, but to be taught respect and discipline.

Anyway, the person who I refer to is my father. The crime he’s being charged with? Possession of child pornography. If what the police are saying is true, he has soiled the most innocent and protected thing on the planet, and that is disgraceful. He insists that he is innocent (of course he does, who would admit guilt?) But I have my doubts. Some things about him have come to light about him since the arrest and as it stands now, whether or not he’s innocent or guilty, it is doubtful that he will ever regain my trust.

As for some of my friends, I’m angry with them for a couple reasons. There are 2 people I talked to for advice on the situation who suggested that I turn to god. It made me ask myself a question:

  1. Would my reaction be any different if I was not an atheist? If I believed in one or more gods?

And the answers to me are fairly simple. 1. No, my reaction would be no different. The man I have been closest with my whole life has betrayed my trust in the worst possible way. Neither gods nor men could change that. I’ve been told to have faith in my father (my birth father…not a pastor) but faith doesn’t win wars, soldiers do.

The world is a dark place, and right now times appear to be the darkest. I remind myself every day that the lights are brightest when seen from the dark, but always further away. I am trying my best to stay one step ahead of the dark, but it is not an easy thing to do.


On a brighter note, I’ve got another update planned for later today to talk about poems and writing, and the possibility of getting myself published. So if you have any suggestions for my top works, let me know.

Thanks

Alex Hicks

Anger and Betrayal (“Outside” by Hollywood Undead)

So some bad stuff happened today in my family, not a death; no, someone was arrested and charged with something that I believe is one of the most intolerable offences. Someone, might I add, who I’ve always been quite close to. I won’t tell you exactly exactly what it was, but it left my brain confused. I didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or sad; or any combination of the three. After writing a letter to my family that neither they or the world will ever see, I’ve decided that anger is right at this moment. Anger is the right feeling for now. How this healing process progresses will determine how I feel in the future, but anger is right as of this moment. Anger and disappointment. He’s betrayed my trust, and he will never get it back. He knows who he is, and he will never see this, but he also knows that he’s forever broken my trust.
 
Anger
 
Anger feels so right right now. So right.
 

Dark Sleep (Part 2)

Part 2 guys and gals, this contains blood and death. You’ve been warned.
 

 
So last night you made a plan
That if you cannot have her hand
None will have her in their bed
None can have that which is dead
 
So you drive to her nightly corner
Wondering if anyone will mourn her
She gets in with a polite smile
Looks at you “it’s been a while”
 
You nod at her and smile back
eleven pm, right on track
Back to your place and through the door
Soon enough you’ll love her no more
 
She strips her clothes and on the bed
On your pillow she rests her head
You get in and lie with her
You know now this is for sure
 
You pretend to sleep and she gets up
In the bathroom grabs a cup
In the mirror there you stand
Right behind her, knife in hand
 
She tries to scream but you’re too fast
and her next breath will be her last
The knife sinks in and tears are shed
She doesn’t know why you want her dead
 
You lean in and whisper clear
I just wanted you my dear
You told me there was never a chance
You made up your mind without a glance
 
Her body drops and in something drops
A small and square red velvet box
You pick it up and look inside
And suddenly it’s you who’se died
 
Inside the box there sat a ring
A simple small engagement ring
And folded small a little note
And within it she had wrote:
 
“I’m giving this small ring to you
and here’s what I want you to do:
take me to dinner, someplace fine
And order us a bottle of wine;
 
Put the ring there in my glass
and when I drink, on one knee ask
If I will be thy wedded wife
From now until the end of life.
 
I’ll say yes, and then for sure
I will be a whore no more
I will be your beautiful bride
And forever we’ll be filled with pride.”
 
You take the knife, eyes filled with tears
You’ve realized your biggest fear
It’s not being alone as it were
It’s living your life without her
 
Your steady the knife at your own heart
And look at her as all goes dark
And plunge the knife into your chest
And finally you both may rest
 
A story told through simple rhyme
Cannot condone a passion crime
So the old phrase remains strong and tall
Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks

Lead The Charge


 
I put myself there.
I dug my own grave
I was ready to give up
I was ready to quit
To stop trying.
 
I had built walls around myself
And everytime I said I would tear them down
I just built them thicker
 
A different kind of self harm
A different kind of suicide.
 
But I stopped.
 
Someone reached out to me
To pull me from my dark place
And into the light I had glimpsed.
 
I didn’t give up
I didn’t quit
 
And unbeknownst to me
I had more friends than I thought.
Friends I didn’t even know about
Watching unseen from the sidelines of my life
Concerned with where I was going
But unable to really help.
 
And now, I can see all of them
I no longer have friends on the sidelines
I can now see them
Fighting with me
Fighting their own demons as well as mine
Just as I am fighting theirs.
 
I’ve joined the fray
I’ve drawn my blade
I’ll lead the charge
I’ll clear the way.
 
My shield a bastion
My sword will strike true
Let enemies approach me
I will push through.
 
My steed carries foreward
The head of the charge
I will face any problems
No matter how large
 
The blood of my foes
Will paint the ground red
Until all of my demons
Have ended up dead.
 
I will fight for my morals
I will fight with the best
Until the day comes
That I draw my last breath.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks

(02/02/2013) Spiral

spiral
 
Trust is something that is earned
Love is something that is learned
Then why does everybody hate.
 
Because just like affection
Hate is learned through reflection
And anger destroys all love creates.
 
I used to try
To understand why
Anger can drive one to the brink.
 
But in my attempts
Each day I commenced
I fell further into hate I think.
 
In trying to know it
I got caught within it
And now that I’m climbing back out.
 
It tears at the seems
To rip at my dreams
As it won’t let me leave here without.
 
In here it taught
That if it were not
For anger I’d not be here today.
 
My want for revenge
Kept me off of that ledge
That I longed for in every way.
 
Now I’m ascending
From the fury unending
With not but a large gaping hole.
 
Where once sat my heart
Now sits only dark
As my life spirals out of control.
 
©2013 Alex Hicks