Ray Taylor

The soft beauty of life

Sitting softly on the edge of reality the sun sets waiting for you. Colors so beautiful they treat the eye to the gift of nature. I find this beauty in your sole. Gazing deep into windows. Windows that open to life. Life outside my personal box. The place I call home, the place I feel safe.

Dark, cold, and gray. Not what most consider safe. The freedom and beauty of colors can be scary. Scary to loose. Sometimes you find yourself in fields of beauty. The tip of amazing only to find the cliff of reality and death.

Falling back to earth you now see the contrast. The true difference of warmth and cold. Beauty and your small personal box. It is hard to risk learning that lesson again.

How do you open up?
How do you run with your eyes closed?
How do you see the edge and still jump?
How do you kill your heart over and over and still convince yourself to try one more time?

Sometimes its like waking up in a drainage pipe. Hearing the water pass by you without a care. You stand and try to focus. Searching for a path. Searching with only the sound of the water to guide you. Starting to walk. Choosing a direction. One foot in front of the next. Then maybe you start to see a soft light in the distance. The end of the tunnel? Some will run. Fast and strong reaching the end. Finding happiness. Others run only to discover that the soft light was only the flashes of old memories as they die in your imagination.

But maybe the soft light is only the start. The beginning. The rise of a new day. Searching your eyes for the beauty that makes you feel at home. Beginning the day you wish would never end. Yet in the end you set yourself down softly at the edge of realty to witness the beauty that is you.

Start at the end, and finish at the beginning.

all you see is the flying saucer. spinning in your mind and around your finger. Your not sure were the ring came from but its been there for ever. If you took it off you would see your skin creating the negative to your photo. The pale skin shines more than the old crusty ring.

Running down the twisting sidewalk. Spinning like a water slide and just as slippery. Slipping with almost every step. So close to the fall. Why not let go and make the inevitable happen. get the pain over with. At least you could get used to the inconvenience of standing back up and brushing off the embarrassment.

No! Wrong! Instead stay in your brain. as you slip grab hold of the spinning saucer. Let the mother ship take you out into the space of your imagination. no air is needed. take in the energy of the stars. Let them illuminate your mind. Showing your path like headlights out of your eyes. See the turn before you make it. Land back into your reality.

Fall through the earth. experience the ground pass around you. hear the song. dance to the music of life. Celebrate the party of being. Be a part of your past. invent the present. Let the future think it has the best idea and right before it catches up… punch the future in the face and run like hell. look back and tell the future how you think it should be. If done right the future will follow you. Not the other way around. Make father time your bitch and pimp him out for experience and life lessons. Use and abuse time to bend the reality you want into the balloon animal of your dreams.

Step through the back door of your cave. See your power animal. Now slide down the path given. OR enter the cave through the front door. Let your power animal out to go potty. check your mail. Now follow your own mind. create the color that inspires you. listen to the music you will soon compose. Laugh at the joke you will come up with tomorrow. If you see the outcome first the path comes next. The light at the end of the tunnel shows up first then you can see your path.

End at the beginning and start at the end. Watching a movie in reverse makes the rest so predictable. Watch the future in your imagination backwards.

Before the Beginning

Carpal tunnel… killing my hand
the death of my fingers leads to the end of my story.

The End before the start…

The definition of our lives.
Screwed before we get the chance

Dismissed
disqualified
rejected
undone

Before the beginning

no chance
no hope
no reason

Fuck it all

Grab your weak sole
pick it up off the end
shove it forward
fuck peer pressure try personal pressure

Say no to yourself
I dare yourself

Punch your face
grow up
get shit together

manufacture your dreams with construction paper and Elmer’s.
Plastic
glue
colored paper
and dreams.

Something out of nothing is better than the next best thing

watch your brain sweat out the goodness of your ideas
see the gray matter drip the newness out onto the ground
hear it fall through the ground
slicing through reality
hitting the BS of life
slapping crap upside its head
screwing over the man

The rebellious imagination of the people to come
Or the people sleeping on the street
Now or Later
Just a yummy candy or the future of mankind

take all you have
pile it up
light it on fire
start over

I dare you

If you can live without the life you have now then you can live forever.

Echo

The walls of my brain echo with my thoughts. A pounding drum beet shaking my gray matter into a frenzy. A rumbled confusion mixed with determination. Like a drop of watter falling into a pond distorting its reflection with rings of abstraction growing from its sides.

Sometimes a long walk can help to clear your head and straighten out your thoughts. Pulling them tight like a string bound between your hand and a kite. Lifted high in the air, being bulled by a strong wind.

Trying to figure it all out just hurts.
Close your eyes.
meditate
rest your mind.
find peace

Open your mind and let it run free.
Do it for life
do it for you
do it for me

Rediscover the word…
find again what it’s meant to be free

Wake up to the splash of reality

The thirst for WD40 is the high pitch call of the door that lets you into the world of everyone else.

A squashy splash sings from below your work boots as you travel through the narrow walkway.

Work boots tied with brown frayed laces that remind you every time you get ready to leave, that the life you lead is wearing away and in NEED of the word “NEW”.

Cloudy days filled with rain help to cover your depression. A place like Seattle would be the perfect location to hide from joy, escape from happiness. Yet everyone loves it here in San Diego.

Who needs a new and scary path when running and hiding is the new American way.

Growing up in a land where “brave” people thrived, the new generations are spoiled and lazy.

Worried that they may need to buy new boots because there laces are frayed. Scared because they don’t know what the currant style is.

The drops of rain hit your face. Mixing with the tears on your cheek and creating the potent elixir of sadness as you squash your way down the street. almost wishing the passing cars would splash you with the gutter watter. The need to dig deeper into your self-destruction makes you want the worst to happen.

Maybe a stray car will hydroplane just before impact. The slamming of your body onto some random schmucks car would definitely make you happy. Plaster a smile on your face. People so worried about you. A huge memorial service in your honor. Maybe even some famous people would show…

The sidewalk now carries your giant ego. The flowing water reflects your distorted self image. The perfect sob story of the next generation. With a multi-million dollar script sure to take a huge bid in Hollywood. “The Sad Story Of YOU”. Coldplay could record the 1 single. A moment of silence would be news worthy at the next MTV movie awards. Thats right Britney and Cristina would sing the same song of silence.

People who barely knew you make millions writing there first hand, inside, personal knowledge of you and your tragic end.

But the squeal of your ego deflating, your own person myth, tall tale, epic story clears your vision to the reality.

Walking down a rainy street to your old car. Driving to your new dead end job. Complaining about the things of the world you do nothing to change. This is your reality. This is your truth.

Cry for the bitch that left you
Cry for the life that ignores you
Cry for the family you should have
Cry for the life your friends have
Cry for Africa
Cry for your pathetic life

When you realize the reality of life, and find your strength, rehydrate with making a move to change. Stop crying, start taking the path of change, the path of something NEW.

Grab the thoughts of your walk. Stretch, twist, bend, break, and recreate the rain that falls. Invent the drops of water into ideas of change. Become showered with a new existence. Transform the shit of life into the best of your greatest dream.

Cry for a idea that makes you think
Think of the idea that makes you cry

Live the life that inspires
Die knowing you did all you could

PUSH

Open your eyes
blurred
unclear

You see a bright red light in front of you.
As your vision becomes more clear you see the button has writing.
“PUSH” Identifies the purpose of the button.
You follow its instructions.
As you do you hear a loud BANG.
A burst of hot air hits the side of your head.
Burning your skin.
Next, you feel the pressure of the sharp metal entering your skull.
As advertised it pushes through.
Traveling through your gray matter as if it were Jello.
With time laps you could watch as the bullet pierce through.

Each thought

Each memory

Each skill

Tearing the things that make you who you are.
Pealing back your life.
Separating yourself from your reality.
As the PUSH exits you.
You can see a spiral of lines.
The scroll pattern of life.
You see the last bits of yourself.
Splattered over the world.

A shinny red light.
A force
Pressing
Pushing

Starting the action that has just taken place.

Suicide
Liberation
Tragedy
freedom
Sadness
Joy

The path for us all begins with a PUSH.
The push of our first step.
The push of our first born.
The push of our first love.

We all push to bring ourselves one step closer to something better.
Our pursuit of happiness.
Our journey over the fence where the grass is greener.
Our race to the edge.

Hit PUSH
Pres play
Start
End
Choose
Decide
Live
Love

Tinny brown boxes

You fill your life into tiny brown boxes.
You keep them safe with tape as transparent as your sole.
Brown boxes filled with who you are
Each part of yourself stacked.
One on top of the other.
Your life of brown boxes creates an expressionistic stair case.
Leading up to the sky.
Your empty self climbs.
Climbing up the brown boxes of your life.
As you get tired you realize the worth of the life you lead.
So many steps.
So much life lived.
As you reach the top you see something you had never noticed.
A doorway in the ceiling.
Pushing it open your lungs fill with sweet fresh air.
A new found freedom
Free from your past
free from your life
free from the tiny brown boxes.
You walk around adjusting to the new feeling of freedom.
You look out and see the horizon
Tracking your vision down you notice the edge.
The edge of your sanity
The edge of reality
The edge of the roof.
It is time
You know what you must do.
What you feel should happen.
What you want to happen.
You run
Sprint
Dash
Racing to the edge.
Left
Right
left
right
arms swinging
heart pounding.
as you reach the edge you give yourself one last push.
As you push off
each of your tiny brown boxes open.
Your transparent sole peals away.
Your life exposed.
Your existence uncovered.
The end
the beginning
The flight
the freedom
The peace


We all pack our lives into tiny brown boxes.
Packing them away.
Hiding them from everyone.


Open the boxes of your life.

Peal back your sole to revile the proof.

The existence of you

The proof of your life.

Our ideas float on the clouds above life.

The numb feeling in my brain causes me to imagine the feeling of life. I crack open my head and let my brain run wild in the open air. The fresh breeze carries my imagination over the atmosphere of our world. As it picks up speed it begins to fall apart and float to the ground to once again reunite itself with everything that created it. The brow of my eye flexes as i think of my loss. The loss of my sole as it drips over the earth. Spreading all i could be over everyone who is, everything that was, and becoming the things that will be. The magical seeds of what are to come. The ideas stuck to the bees of life pollinating the beautiful minds of our time. Only a peace of the puzzle that means nothing without its mate. The section of fate that fits its own. to ignite the mind of one person would give proof that an idea can spread faster then life itself. Less pain and more power then one existence. Ideas can change the masses. Create a movement of people towards the path of growth or destruction. A powerful machine cutting out the cookie cutter versions of what one man wants. A mass following “one” has no match for the mass following the masses. A mass of ideas with similar purpose. Why fight over the differences when the idea is the same. When we fight over the tiny pixels of life that separate us we loose the larger digital picture printed at $0.17 a copy. multiple copies of the same story touch each heart in its own way so nothing is the same. But a group of similar ideas and goals can find common ground on the clouds of our dreams and find ways to float over the hell we find ourselves in. We all become flying wonders destined to make the sun shine brighter on our children. Make life a bit happier. Make love a bit easier. Give dreams more of a chance for life. I close my eyes and see many things. What do you see?

The hallway of life

The bridge over existence splits into a thousand roads. It travels over the thoughts and imaginations of everyone while they sleep. The fish that swim through your dreams feed on the memories of your old friends and family that you never think of. The smiles and tears that have all but faded away are the only proof that you have lived at all. The carbon copy receipt of your life. No returns after 90 days.

The awakening of your mind has begun as the sprinklers feed the grass that grows on your neighbors lawn. As you awake and see your own landscape you only see the brown dust bowl of your happiness. You take the windy path through the halls of your home. bumping into the most expensive walls you can afford. Flashes of the previous night shuffle through your head in no specific order. Dreams? Memories? Who knows? Who cares? Reality seems to become only a small part of your true existence as you fall closer to the bottom.

Like the times when you fall asleep and feel yourself falling only to shake yourself back to the ground. Only now a days you hope for the fall. You sleep more in hopes that you may one night hit the end of that dream. Hitting bottom isn’t a bad thing it’s a new start. A start from the bottom up. A way to one day become your neighbor with the green grass.

As the day fades into the past you think of the things that could have been. The things you wish you could have become. The person you could be now if only you didn’t bump into so many walls as you walk down the hallway of life.

Hitting bottom without hitting hurts more then you could ever imagine.

Dreams don’t just happen at night.

The open spot in my heart is only for you. Warm and safe saved for only the best. I would protect that spot with all i have and after the spot has been filled that spot will stay safe for all time.

Empty, lonely, cold, those are the words before you came. time stands still now. giving me the time to see the whole picture. So bright and beautiful. So full of life. so full of hope.

The open spot has been closed. The seat taken, the slot filled, the appointment made, the dream realized.

Sometimes its possible for nothingness to become tangible. sometimes up does become down. west becomes east. in becomes out. hate becomes love. the setting sun is only the beginning of the new day.

Take in the possibilities. Become the thing you never thought you could. creat the person you desire to be. Put your aging on hold to truly realize who you are and what you are capable of

dreams don’t just happen at night!

The gray scale is our nail in the coffin

Good luck on the mind fuck of the next generation.

Pulling the gray yarn from our head, the lead, of our soul we’ll become dead before old.

The race for the worst things of all that crawl into your mind, all the time, without crime or disorder in order keep us all in line we wont wine.

Never out of control in the mixing bowl of life. without pain we maintain our false existence we aren’t witness to our own malfunction as we sit at the junction of either truth or ignorance.

Most of what we call reality is manufactured duality. two sides to every quarter in order to serve the purpose not to serve the worthless. Like set up dominoes we rose to the occasion only to be knocked down back to the ground

we’re out of control as we roll through existence. I’m a truth seeker. In search of the road less traveled filled with rocks and loose gravel. a bumpy ride to the light as i fight finding the reality we can not see with our blinders on but hope is not gone.

I’m a rebel with a mission weather you listen or not i have the the answer to what the world needs. What it feeds on and strives to be. A war of art. creative expression. It sinks in your veins with out pain. It brightens your sole as they tighten the noose  as we use our brains and hearts. the gun has fired so we start the art revolution not pollution. but a beautiful confusion

I make mistakes in the form of a flower. each peddle is a medal to my existence. you are the witness. Without you i have no proof that i was here. don’t fear my end but hope for the best I’ll never rest with out a creation. a bit of art fusion with reality a new born expression without tension and did i mention every piece of it came straight from my heart like a dark hitting the bulls eye. i never lie but only speak in code so you all know that the truth is not for everyone. like a gun pointed at my brain i maintain my course steady and true only for you and the glue that holds this life in place the giant rat race of life stabbing the weak like a knife in the side as i ride on the time-line of what we know you shall go and carry out my blessings always testing the boundaries of creation facin’ the barriers the obstacle that tickles your ambition, wishin’ it would all be over so roll on your side and hide in the sand of ignorance with out color or substance. a bit of gray scale i tell the tale of a man with a goal to flip reality on its head before i wind up dead.

Sunset

The dimmer switch of the day slides down on its track. The noise it makes scars the sky with beautiful colors. As the wounds of this change heal, the marks of what has just occurred begin to ignite. Popping open in the sky like miniature eyes. The eyes of all our loved ones looking down upon us. The dead that watch over us. They are our protectors, our watchers. They are mysterious. they are famous. They are our stars.

Living on the giving tree.

Living on the giving tree always meant so much to me.

it has so much work to do yet all you thought its cared for was you.

the place outside your living home races by seeing nothing in its path

Ignorant to the actions you take poisoning the life that supports your existence

The leaves of the giving tree fall without the cue of the seasons.

The signs you ignore as you kill it more and more.

The things in life that don’t make sense are the things that mean the most.

We not only fear the things we do not know but we fear trying to learn those same things.

A never ending cycle of fear and denial.

Very few dare to understand.

Many who make the attempt are able to gain an expanded vision of it all.

They see the forest for the trees.

The trees that give.

The trees that live.

The forest clouds the mind.

The tree is the first step in a long journey of repair.

If we continue to close our eyes

close our ears to the signs around us

We all will regret the result when it is to late to do anything.

There are no replays in reality.

No edits.

no cuts

no breaks

everything that is worth the most requires the most work.

Blame the past

blame others

blame your creator

blame your dictator

Blame yourself

If we all took some responsibility the trees would have less to carry.

They carry the weight of all our mistakes.

bending, breaking, twisting, tearing…

Tearing from the ground.

With our ears blind to reality as the tree hits the ground it makes no sound.

We think it is because we are not there.

But it is only the cycle of our ignorance that closes the curtain on the great show of reality.

find a way

start today

or ignore the problem like before and blame only yourself when it is all to late.

The fate of our giving tree is in the hands of you and me.

Why am I doing this….?

Whats up? I’m Ned. Um, yeah I’m not sure why I deciding to write one of these fuckin things. i never go on-line and i hate this whole myspace thing. Just a bunch of trendy bullshit. Like how guys wear the girls pants and shit like that. Anyway, I’m sure your wondering why i would be writing a thing on something i hate. Let me tell you. Its not by choice. I was looking for a fucking pen but i couldn’t find one that would work. I had to at least write something out because either I’m going crazy or at least some crazy shit is about to happen.

Ok let me start or re-start by telling you or who ever reads this thing a little about myself. My name is Ned Jackson. I’m 22 years old and i work for my neighbors construction / renovation business. anyway enough of that crap.

I think I’m going crazy. I don’t know. I’ll be at work and i think I’ll hear someone calling my name or asking me a question and usually no one is even around or they don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. So, i started just ignoring it and now when people do actually try and talk to me they think I’m high or going def or something because i don’t respond. Then when i get home i talk to myself all the time. I live alone so i have no reason to be talking to anyone but throughout the day i catch myself talking to myself. like i have conversations with people i may talk to the next day. like if i have a meeting with my boss or if I’m gonna hang out with a friend I’ll preview the things I’m going to say. I guess the silver lining would have to be that I’m not seeing imaginary people.

So the part where i think I’m going crazy. Ive been having a lot of dreams where I’m laying in a bed and i’m so out of it and the bed is so comfortable that i don’t get up or i cant get up. then I’ll start to doze off in my dream then end up waking up in real life. ok then like 2 weeks ago i had this dream where i was standing in a room and all kinds of people are standing around me talking to me at the same time. i try to tell em to just shut the fuck up but its like i lost my voice or something. and i can’t move once again. those last a long time. Its odd because all the people are sad or pissed off. they’re all crying at me or yelling. sometime they whisper. like one of the people was this girl I’m totally in love with and she tends to whisper to me all the time.

Usually when i have these dreams I’ll wake up with this huge pain in my back. like a sharp stabbing pain just below my shoulder blade kinda in the middle. anyway it sucks. so its like every night i get these same dreams.

I started noticing the noises I’m hearing at work or throughout the day. like they seems like the voices i hear in my dream. like i know fer sher i totally heard that girl whispering to me like my name and something else. then it was like i heard a buddy of mine crying when i was in the store last week. I’m in the freezer section and i swear i though he was in the next isle crying like he was making fun of me for some reason. i peeked around the corner and it was just some old lady looking at paper plates. she wasn’t crying and if she was it wouldn’t have been the same crying i was hearing. anyway so i called my buddy on my cell. he was at his house arguing with his wife.

Anyway for the past week or so I’ve been noticing this shit and its starting to freak me out. I tried telling a friend of mine about it but she just thinks I’m stressed out or trying to be funny. Yeah , HA HA.

ok so more and more it’s like things are beginning to get clearer. I one of the voices was telling me that “they” said. who ever then hell “they” are. anyway, they said they figured out how to fix everything and i should be back by the end of the week. that was like 6 days ago. all week my dreams the people who are all talking to me seem totally happy and shit. and yesterday at work i heard someone say “hurry Up” but no one was there.

Maybe I’m psychic or something and I’m an alien. or maybe I’m just going totally scitso’. that’s why i had to write this shit down because if the fuckin mother ship or something comes to get me then maybe someone can let all my friends know or they can read this and maybe know what happened. If i do end up in the loony bin at least this will be an entertaining thing to read right.

Ok so just now i thought my phone was ringing. i looked over at it and it didn’t look like it was. It didn’t sound right anyway. it sounded like just a steady beeping like a garbage truck backing up, or like a heart monitor or something. I’m fuckin going crazy. i cant believe this shit. and all day my damn hands have been twitching and then cramping up when ever i put them in a fist. Like i was holding on to something and couldn’t let go.

Ok well i think I’m done here. my first and last blog. hopefully i will wake up tomorrow. still on earth, or still sane. the whole phone thing kinda makes me think something else. like this shit is all a dream and my dreams are the reality. like maybe I’m not really there in reality for some reason and when i dream i have something like a reality. and maybe this word is going to end or something. maybe when i go to sleep tonight I’m really waking up.

Fuck it maybe I’m just going bonkers and i need to check myself in. HA HA. either way I’m tired as shit.

Nighty night world.

Ned

As the paint dries on the puzzle

Time spent in a life with nothing to do can seem to fly by at the speed at which paint dries.

You could easily be in the middle of doing many things and find that you are board. Board not because you have nothing to do but rather because the things you find yourself doing have nothing for you. It’s as if your are piecing together a puzzle with a million parts. Staring at each individual shape. inches from your face and you are unable and unwilling to look past that shape to possibly get a look at the creation that forms as the pieces fall into place. The object inches from your face can not possibly give you any satisfaction, only the blurred creation forming in the background of your life has the entertainment you seek. A catch 22 of sorts. If you stop to view what will give you pleasure, you will only see an unfinished mess and the desire to continue will no longer be there. However if you stay stuck in your nearsighted state you will never know how much longer you have.

Why do we bury ourselves in piles of puzzle pieces trying endlessly to put them where we think they belong. Searching for the home or purpose of each piece somehow makes us feel as though we have in some way found out place in life. We live vicariously through the work we do. thinking that somehow finding the location for each part will some how illuminate the answer to why we exist. That our purpose in life is only to find purpose. An endless search. What if we somehow find the answer. Then if our purpose is to seek purpose then once we find the answer we have no more need to be here. Where do we go. The people that find purpose must leave to the magical winners circle of life. OR is it that finding purpose is not our purpose. If that is true then why do so many of us spend our lives looking for it. If we are not supposed to find purpose then the search is a pointless waist of time. No one likes to feel as though they have waisted there life on pointless thing. Is the puzzle of life pointless? Do we have a choice?

All I know is that I stare day after day at things that are inches from my face. I can see nothing beyond that. There is nothing beyond what is directly in front of me. I try to make myself believe that i can see more, but i can only accept my delusions for so long before the reality comes crashing down and once again i stand face to face with my life of inches.

Beyond me there are inches

Beyond inches there is a shape

Beyond the shape is the puzzle

Beyond the puzzle are the answers

But i can only see inches past myself and all that lies past that i may never see.