Shifting Monster

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I don't pretend to be the good guy.

I'm just not hiding my dark side.

I played nice but it ain't fine.

All my plays line under grey skies.

Let the rain fall over flames dying.

Used to chase lies but I stop trying.

And the clot from the smoke in my lungs made me choke.

But the flood cleansed the river and the air delivered hope.

Beware,  with mind clear and held rope I hang regrets here.

Under the waterfall crashing over rising steam and asphalt superheated from fading fire from dissolving demons as a monster I became to defeat them.

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Evolving Force

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Consumed by myself. I am living in hell. Twisting mind isn't well. From the good I'm repelled. Where I stood,  ground is held. Swiss knife crude,  blooded bell. Ringing ears,  broke shells. Brisk breeze frozen in cells. Trapped indulgent, expelled demons ravaged the trail. Still transforming but frail. Soon acquire the grail. Quite admired, derailed. Just too tired to tail. Setting fires to fail. Flames rose higher. Refusal to retire. The new age will rage empires risen by crazed beastly crying. At tops peak my eyes spying. I've evolve,  all else dying. Animalistic,  still trying. Till last breaths fighting,  I'll be.

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Immortalized

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Thinking about mortality and the love of creating.

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Often conflicted and quite difficult to please, a complicated pursuit to remain busy and create overtakes. It’s aimless, but fueled by the imagination of a mind never silent. Thoughts without sleep. A perpetual anxiety holds on the brink of psychological collapse. Everlasting depression lingers in the background with awareness of mortality and the shortness of time. All the things wanted but only few will unfold before the red curtain drops, the lights shut off and the stage plunges to darkness. Countless tail-chases to the priceless and of meaning. Naming it purpose. Hoping it doesn’t come across as…

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String A Longs

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We don't learn

We spin and turn while stomachs churn

And ache and burn

Riddled and unanswered

Lazy claiming hands hurt

Phased by changing landscapes

In the dark holding no lanterns

Facing our last takes

Chasing past mistakes

Deep breaths and smiles faked

Refusing to raise the stakes

Hearts too scared to break

Wont pierce through fear

Yet blood thirsty and fierce

Cowards trembling and biting

The same cowards never found fighting

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New Ideas: Video Game Development

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Jack writes of new creative ventures to pursue.

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For several years I’ve been dabbling in game development. Learning the annoying ins and outs of game design and balancing. It’s definitely one of the most creative activities I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing and taking part in. It is also definitely one of the more difficult things I’ve attempted. It’s right up there with advanced arts like Novel Writing and Portrait Painting. The intricate details that formulate a single fraction of the bigger picture are absurdly complex. Similar to novel writing, if a single piece of the puzzle no longer works the entire bigger picture has the potential to collapse. One loose thread can unravel the entire stitch work.

Some of the more trying times I’ve encountered have arrived with game updates. Each new addition to the game can break all the other parts. Nothing can simply be forced in or added. Incorporation is the correct term. All new features must be carefully molded to fit the existing project like they were there from the start. Frustrations have been faced on multiple occasions do to this. I’m sure had I been someone else I would have quit as these moments came forward. Luckily, I’m a bit of a masochist and push…

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Sick Temper

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I'm broken. I've chosen to work with it. Certain its hopeless.  Its slow fizzing. Not sure when I might pop. But for sure something'll get me to blow my top. Head's hot. And they tell me I'm cold. This fever has me sweating. I call it addiction to accomplishment,  challenge and work. Others label it being a narcissistic snark jerk. I'm just impatient with the lazy. Call me crazy.

Tempered. Boiling cold. I'm striding forward on this road and tearing down whatever forest stands in my way.

Struggle and success are how I play.

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Chirping Confused

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Electronics broadcasting from our pockets, handing us opinions and beliefs. Critical thinking and self reflection is a thing of the past. Media slavery is the new wave. The new order.

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Pocket mirrors. Clever image. Surfing while catching waves. Searching for shelter. For cover. Dodging rays. Pixel boxes with dark displays. Projected normality. Morality is stray.

Minds stranded far away. Used to pay for electric food. To feed on the endless stream. Turned flood, we’re dragged and taken. Awaken washed up together on a beach with cardboard oceans and salt for sand.

Confused and fragmented we obey chirping Bluejay. Let them lead us. Seed us to repeat like parrots misunderstanding freedom. Thinking the caged bird sings ‘cause joy. Meanwhile…

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