tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13997294085127452962024-03-14T04:08:53.305-04:00I Believe Even if it's Just a DreamJustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.comBlogger340125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-14183850026196916032022-04-23T17:02:00.002-04:002022-04-23T17:02:25.760-04:00A little bit of CrrN mixed with more You left your fingerprints on my heartand no matter what I do I can'tseem to wash them off.I can't counthow many timesI've tried to leaveyou behind since you left me.I've tried escapingto faraway lands to tryto find another you, butI carry my stained heartwith me. I carry yourfingerprints with me.I've washed in others'oceans but they're justdeserts next to you, andI need JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-85480050688606290352022-04-02T15:29:00.003-04:002022-04-02T15:29:42.714-04:00Rosé NoirRemember when you reached for my hand in the dark and the world around us fell apart? Remember when the shadows didn't envelop us in their brazen arms?Now I'm just holding onto this loneliness clumped in a ball of wrinkled papers. They're not even notes we wrote each other. They're the crumpled pieces of potential that I wasted between dreams. I slept so long that I forgotJustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-53297969236043982302022-03-31T21:23:00.000-04:002022-03-31T21:23:00.211-04:00Abolition (The Compassion Manifesto Pt. 1) Maybe I am radical. Maybe I have let these ideas imbed themselves somewhere deep inside my consciousness, but is that such a bad thing? It seems increasingly likely that the world's brain has been washed "clean." Like the gardener has neglected to till the soil for some time now. All these systems are built on oppression and keeping others down, whether JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-38655183978610927932022-03-02T23:51:00.000-05:002022-03-02T23:51:02.180-05:00Scar TissueYou did your job. You killed the kid inside me. The little boy playing in the shadows with the scar on his belly. You did it. I know that’s not what you wanted to do. I know I could never tell this to you, but something about it feels real enough to be true. Something about it resonates in this space.What was life like for that little boy? Where did he JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-43601342342473391312021-09-20T00:54:00.002-04:002021-09-20T00:54:17.880-04:00Mostly ghostly questions It’s been a while, but what is normal anymore? All the melancholy and deeply steeped despair we held before is nothing like the apocalypse we live in these days. We hope would have thought we’d be here back then?When I was a boy, I wanted to be a man, and now that I’m grown, I long for youth again. I guess it’s true what they say, youth indeed is wasted on the young.  JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-91867526702008212222021-04-29T23:25:00.005-04:002021-04-29T23:25:50.948-04:00A little equity and More than Just Plus Signs (+)s It can't be just a buzzword. It has to be more than a trend. We can't be a people who just use our words for our own selfish "likes" and comments. We need action beyond a screen. Our sisters and brothers are literally dying. No, I am not using that word in the recent trendy fashion; I mean what I say.I can't stand to witness my the death and defamation of my JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-37693384621670807782021-02-09T02:18:00.003-05:002021-02-09T02:19:13.558-05:00Uppercase SpaceI thought I left you in the background somewhere. I thought you were the one that even if I returned to we'd never be. I guess I was wrong. I thought I left you in the recesses of my mind, somewhere I'd never find you. So then why do I go looking for you. Why do I look for hidden love and profound emotions in a place where the strings have been cut, or perhaps burnedJustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-76635259987646166522020-11-09T01:00:00.005-05:002020-11-09T01:03:16.764-05:00On SystemsHere's the thing, I agree with you, many of our systems are in fact flawed, corrupt, and otherwise broken. However, I also understand that systems are made up of human beings, and humans by nature are imperfect. Hence the imperfect nature of systems, no matter if they are global, interpersonal, or anywhere in between, is natural.With that in mind, I believe there are a number of ways that JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-37572144156082446292020-10-06T00:43:00.001-04:002020-10-06T00:44:54.133-04:00RomanceRomance. What is it to you? What words or images does it conjure up in your mind? Do you think of candlelit dinners or that sentimental movie where an old man tells his story to his memory-depleted lover? Or maybe to you it is just the gentle brush of your partner's hand against yours.All of those examples may very well be romantic, however I believe that they represent a JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-20704494358230618632020-09-09T14:53:00.002-04:002020-09-09T14:53:09.009-04:00A Small SkirmishYou taught me efficiency and they label me with "procrastinate." You taught me to use my resources and they tell me I'm a mooch, a pest, and a leech. You encouraged me to, "Go anywhere!" and "Be Anything!" and they reach for their strings to tie me down. This world can't hold me down. This world can't tell me who to be or who I am, although I endlessly ask them for JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-45087613104610259092020-09-07T22:12:00.003-04:002020-09-07T22:12:51.222-04:00Stanzas to fill the In-BetweenThis movie's boring, mundane even. Maybe a month ago it still held onto some novelty, but no more. I want to start a new one; can we stop and begin again?I thought life was living, but somehow it's all the in-between times, like this. Surely there is light somewhere beneath this crack in the surface. And here.I'm a torn and fraying noose ever since you cut me loose. JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-35180978568791502652020-08-23T00:15:00.005-04:002020-08-23T00:15:33.643-04:00Lust Haunts Me I needed you and all you did was give me a passing glance. You held me up like a prop in your life and that's all I ever was. Still, why can't I leave in the past where we were? Why do I go digging through the cemeteries of unrequited loves? Why can't I leave you and move to green pastures?And in these moments where everyone is so far from me, farther than physical JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-84274109879038420502020-08-12T21:44:00.006-04:002020-08-23T00:16:53.320-04:00Get Outside I need people.I knew it before. I was crying out for community before, but it was all a whisper in the dark. Now the people are gone or far away and I'm all by myself. I need an external force. I don't think you understand this. People say, "Pick yourself up," "Do it for you," or "You'll never love someone until you can love yourself," but do I not know myself?JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-15272806122810366042020-08-01T12:48:00.001-04:002020-08-01T12:48:31.783-04:00Impetus of the Movement or The First Step to Self-Discovery?Sure, you can kill the martyr, but don't you know what that will do? Don't you realize that's what he wants from you? Kill him and watch him resurrect in the thousands of faces around you. In your effort to make him disappear your garden will grow with more weeds than ever before.Yeah that's what he wants, this masochist, this cult leader, this creator, this destroyer. JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-71588853193794728032020-07-30T16:16:00.000-04:002020-07-30T16:16:03.128-04:00Yesterday's RemainsIt started with a virus. It started simply enough. Surely we can recover from this eventually.Remember when this normal was "new"? Remember when the world did not revolve around you? There has to be something here. A purpose? A tangent? A discourse?Yesterday the words were here and I fell asleep or exhausted my creativity elsewhere. I guess I'm JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-42460804875442780822020-07-02T12:55:00.000-04:002020-07-02T12:55:37.385-04:00Can't You See It's Raining?Like an addict in a torrent plugging holes in the attic. I'm doing everything to keep the real me from understanding who I am. My ego takes fear and dresses it in love to keep me in the dark. It flips the switch on or lights a flickering match in this darkness in an effort to deceive me for even five more minutes. My ego is the best at hiding its true intentions. It JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-22097000487332863412020-06-28T19:02:00.000-04:002020-06-28T19:02:05.683-04:00The Muses ReachingWe etch our emotions in digital concrete and still we wonder why we speak through so many filters. Is it any wonder why so many of us are hesitant to truly speak our minds when our former presents stain what would have been our futures with scarlet letters?
We long for transparency, intimacy, and authenticity and then turn quickly to slap another's cheek. How can we escape this JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-79865306499311506692020-05-18T01:46:00.000-04:002020-05-25T22:41:29.541-04:00The Limits of LanguageLife is perception. Sharing perception is communication. Explaining communication is description. Analyzing description is interpretation. Understanding interpretation creates definition.
And the limits to definition may create misconception. Language is limiting. Yes, language is powerful and to some extent it is what separates the humans from other animals. JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-90088830283774665242020-04-12T16:43:00.000-04:002020-04-12T16:43:18.906-04:00Living in the HallwayTo all the world living in the hallway these days,
I think all of my life up to this time has prepared me for this moment. I think it is moments like this that I am most qualified for. I have lived in the hallway for many days, if not years, of my life. The hallway is a strange place to be in, but we must not forget that it too holds importance.
Just like any other room in theJustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-36520459233136342382020-04-05T01:32:00.004-04:002020-04-05T01:32:57.976-04:00Do We Need Politics?Can there be law (and order) without politics? It sure seems there could be some greater sense of order without it all. By that I mean it's pretty easy to imagine people actually getting along instead of just sitting around arguing all the time if politics were somehow eliminated from the scene. How could a republic function without politics? Or is it even possible?
It JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-70588624409663986612020-02-25T00:27:00.000-05:002020-02-25T00:28:32.500-05:00Some Sort of FearI want to write you a story but I'm afraid I'm not ready for it yet. I'm afraid I don't have all the details to explain it. And yet, I'm also afraid that if I don't get it down now that I will soon forget it, as I have so many times before.
I'm afraid of getting all the specifics wrong or not being able to round the sharp edges in the right spots and leave the biting language in JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-4619255328887040162019-12-05T00:30:00.005-05:002019-12-05T00:47:02.208-05:00ALT 7AllLivingThings(die)JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-72148188102434503522019-12-02T00:38:00.001-05:002019-12-02T00:38:53.538-05:00Cardboard CombustionIt's like walking through an empty door to a barren reflecting pool. No one is around. Only the blank space between you and your reflection will hear you scream, but you only shout inside yourself. Barely a day ago you were surrounded, though your surroundings felt foreign. You place markers on the side of the mountain with hopes of making it back up again some day, but noJustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-71908216414083994462019-11-18T22:26:00.000-05:002019-11-18T22:26:02.524-05:00Self-Denial/Self-DiscoveryI need freedom. No, not the kind of liberty that breaks chains and opens up previously unseen worlds. No I need freedom to know who I can be and, in a way, some sort of slavery that binds me to who I am. I know it may sound absurd, but that is what I'm looking for: something tells me who I am and what my purpose is. I guess you could call it an anchor, but it has to be so JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1399729408512745296.post-75207332556968456412019-10-31T23:59:00.000-04:002019-11-01T02:00:06.716-04:00Learning to start again without a proper beginningConnecting dots. Drawing lines. No one can tell I'm going this time. I want something beyond what is here but I'm not sure how to find it, especially when I'm not sure what it is.
I'm a result, an effect. There have been so many causes to lead me to where I am, but still I feel inadequate and ill-equipped. So what do I do with these incomplete leanings? JustCallmeKirbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09432032541852398754noreply@blogger.com0