Graceful Dancing

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The choice of letting go and saying goodbye is never easy, yet the decision to hold on is even harder. I have let go of hopes, dreams, relationships, redemption and written my goodbyes many times in the past, but every morning I regret my choices and my decisions to hold on… This was the beginning of the post I was working on last Saturday, what was to follow was going to be my final words then swallow every bit of medication I had and finally be at peace. Instead I ended up in the psych ward at Abbot where I stayed until yesterday against my doctors and others advice. I didn’t see the point in staying, all they did was drug me to the point where all I could do was sleep. I was at a crossroads where I knew whether I chose to stay or go I was leaving in worse shape when wen I went in. When I walked out of the hospital and reality came crashing down on me I knew right then and there that I fucked up choosing to go to begin with, yet again regretting my decision to hold on. So I am back where I started but with a bit more inner strength then I had before because I received a mental vacation, but seriously how long will that last? The answer will come in the next week or so as I sit back and see how everything plays out between my job, dream, finances, and relationships. I feel I am at the point where depending on how these things play out will determine my future.

My life is riddled with mistakes, and regrets each one adding to the greater mound of shit called life. At this moment three key things come to mind, keep in mind this is not in chronological order of importance.

  1. Failing at fixing all the problems at the nursing home I work at to improve the quality of life of the residents I have grown to care for so deeply.
  2. Giving up on my dreams of becoming a writer or an artist.
  3. Not finding redemption for the countless number of lives I have destroyed in my 35 years on this earth.
  4. Not following through with shit on November 26th.

I think what it comes down to is acceptance. I need to accept that I won’t ever be more than I am right now. I have to finally accept I won’t ever be able to help the residents where I work. I don’t know what’s worse giving up on my dreams or trying to redeem myself by helping people just like me who can’t help themselves. I have done shitty things; I have poisoned and hurt everyone and everything I have ever touched. Many of my poems touch on this concept of being a “virus.”

For over six years I have worked so hard to make up for all the pain and suffering I have caused by reducing the pain and suffering the residents at the nursing home I work for by the hands and decisions of the very same people who are supposed to care for and safe guard these residents. There are many good hearted people whom I work with who carry this burden of failure, if any of them are reading this they know the deep sorrow and feeling of helplessness of not being able to give these guys the proper quality of life they deserve.

I have been in business with and covered up things for “business associates” who wouldn’t hesitate putting a bullet in your head, but being involved with and covering up for an employer who is a non-profit and allows vulnerable adults and employees to be harassed mistreated and discriminated against is far worse in my eyes. There are many people at the nursing home I work at who see the same things I see but do not act; as Haile Selassie so eloquently put it

Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.”

All of the people involved in my past life and unfortunately as of late too much of my current life chose “the life” and in the end we all end up in one of two places, we deserve whatever end to our means no matter how horrific or painful. Our residents on the other hand do not deserve the means that transpire until their end comes.

This is my apology to the residents that have come and gone who failed to receive the proper quality of life they deserved. I am sorry that I can no longer continue to fight for the change needed, it is destroying me. My old associates showed more mercy delivering people to their end, than the people I work for now. The people employed by this company who care are used and pushed until they break while the predators are allowed to continue to prey.

Non-profits are not supposed to be run like a criminal organization where fear and intimidation rule. Non-profits are supposed to be built upon something called “Duty of care.” If any one of the “criminals” who work at this nursing home is reading this let me define what duty of care means.

“Duty of care is the moral and legal obligation to attend to the safety and wellbeing of those they serve, those who work for them and others who come into contact with their operations.”

Now to wrap things up there may be some people who do not understand what the title of this entry has to do with the content. Below is a Youtube link of Justin Furstenfeld performing the song “Graceful Dancing.” After hearing his introduction to this powerful song, and seeing the familiar emotions during his performance I decided to check myself into the hospital which drastically changed the content of this post. For that I thank the artist and the person who posted this video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCFpgfvPGZo&list=PLIWCEQoVmfdHIakN42xTrXYjPnE6I3EHB&index=55

 

And I Just Cry

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I am sorry for my website looking different,  I am in the process of trying to update it, it’s not going great thus far. Just sitting here listening to music trying to hold it all together.

It feels cleansing and painful to just sit and cry. I am not ashamed that I break down, I just prefer to do it privately. 

I wake up every morning wishing I didn’t, and just hope I can get through the day. What kind of life I’d that?

Decaying Faces

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Decaying Faces

Decaying Faces

Decaying faces

Buried in decaying places

Chasing dreams in empty spaces

Stench of death embraces

That which the light erases

Displaying those decaying faces

Replacing the traces

Of those decaying places

Those rearranged decaying faces

Lost alone in decaying places

Those dreams you chased in empty spaces

Reluctant to believe in warm embraces

Popping pills to find something that erases

A lonely walk that leaves no traces

The decay displacing those funny faces

Oddly drawn to those dark places

Where decaying faces erase the traces

Of empty spaces

Where death embraces

The places and empty spaces

Where light erases

The truth behind the decaying faces

Faces changing places

The memories it erases

Funny faces

Empty spaces

Decaying faces

Hidden in decaying places

Embracing those empty spaces

Erasing the traces of happy faces

By: Tim Lundmark

Visit my Art Shop where Confessional Poetry becomes one with my art.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/227532707/free-shipping-8×10-decaying-faces-part?ref=shop_home_active_2

 

Why Does My Illogical Need To Live Override My Logical Desire To Die?

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I enjoy philosophical riddles, and I spend far too less time working on them. The reasons do not matter. I am confronted with one riddle in particular day in and day out… Why have I not or cannot kill myself?

I have gone through my fair share of suffering, and for most of my life battled with the will and desire to no longer be alive. I have many times and still want to die. I do not want to exist. So why at this moment with how I feel and have felt I must ask myself. Why am I breathing and writing this?

This has been a philosophical puzzle that has plagued and tortured me. I have come up with many theories, reasons, and excuses for why I have not.

No point in running the list. What I came up with and I feel so blind for not figuring this out. Its our primal directive to survive. Its ingrained within us and drives everything. This directive is so powerful that I cannot overcome or find the courage to end my suffering.

To me logic and reason would dictate that ending suffering is the only thing that makes sense. Every other theory I have ever had about why I am still alive stems from this roadblock.

How can this override clear logic and reason of not wanting to suffer? How can this seed allow us to self deceive ourselves against the logical course of action. How and at what point can this will be broken down?

God Needs Love To Stay Relevant.

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“Human beings must be known to be loved; but Divine beings must be loved to be known.”
Blaise Pascal

Imagine if society as we know it were to completely crumble, ravaged with war, along with our complete loss of technology. Countries would soon begin to crumble; social unrest would cause unimaginable destruction. Lets take our imagination exercise further; during all of this chaos and destruction, only 5-10% of the human population survived. All technology and anything related to it is gone, and very few things such as books, paintings, or structures remain. Being resilient creatures it is only logical mankind will slowly start to re-build.

Everything we know today would be a distant memory. Soon future generations would have no idea what “The Mona Lisa” looked like, or in some cases didn’t even know it had existed. Now imagine if the Bible and all other religious scriptures had been destroyed in the mayhem. With every passing generation the concept of religion as we know it today would have all but disappeared. It would be foolish not to factor in the 5-10% of those who survived, for arguments sake lets say there was no one dominant believe system among the survivors. The people who survived each carried with them one of our many different theological beliefs, but no religious doctrine survived.

Let us continue down this rabbit hole of imagination and say a few Greek Mythology books survived the downfall of man (Yes I am aware this can be considered theology, but I include it only because unfortunately it has been downgraded to “mythology”.) Future generations would logically begin to worship Zeus, and the many other Gods behind said “mythology” and believe this to be religious fact. Even if these books did not exist it is possible for a new generation to create a completely different religion based on the remnants from the downfall. Of course these remnants would be added to with stories passed down from generation to generation.

I feel it is impossible to have a society without the driving force of religion; whether it is to calm fears or to control the population. Religion although perverted and corrupt is a necessity; eventually new religions would be formed to meet these needs. Imagine if the book “Moby Dick” survived the collapse of man. All it would take is one charismatic individual to start preaching the “religious” lessons contained in this book, and just like that a new religion is born. In time as other books are collected they are added to the “Holy Scripture.” Let’s say “Huckleberry Finn,” “Hamlet,” and “The Lord of the Rings” also survived. These various works of fiction are then woven together in a collection of stories to form a new Bible, and out they go to preach the Word, promising life hereafter in Middle Earth.

People are hardwired to need religion in their life, if this were not the case religion would have died out long ago as man discovered science and logic, because of this primal hardwiring they would latch onto this with all their might, replacing, refuting, and stumping scientific and logical advancements. I am sure whoever put this “Bible” together would take some liberties and add their own material just like the Catholics did when choosing which books to include in the Bible. This new congregation would set out to spread the gospels of William Shakespeare, J.R.R. Tolkien, Mark Twain, and Herman Melville, murdering all those who believed differently then they do. In time this religion and its created deities would become reality.

Now here is my question. If all of these things were to actually happened, then does the God of the Bible now cease to exist? If no one knew what a Bible even was, would the God of the Bible come down and start interacting with humans to show us he still existed? Although God made a promise he would never do it again, would he burn then flood the entire world only leaving one family to partake in incest to rebuild the world? If we look at history there have been many different religions that people have blindly followed. As time passed newer, cooler, more convenient, and better suited religions for social control became dominant. Causing all of the long forgotten deities (sorry Zeus) to be left behind and forgotten.   

Dreams Is All They Are

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Dreams is All They Are

Dreams Is All They Are

Its late at night, I drift off to sleep

Dreaming I wake the man you want me to be

When I awake, my dreaming didn’t take

Seeing your unmatched beauty

Lost in your eyes

Mesmerized by perfection

Truly it could take only a God

To bless us with you

It’s late at night, drifting off to sleep

Dreaming I wake to a day where you see me

When I awake my dreaming simply didn’t take

I notice you light up a room

Lost in your eternal light

I walk by with childhood nerves

Hoping you will shine

Your light upon me

It’s late at night, drifting off to sleep

Dreaming I wake to a day I hear you speak

When I awake my dreams simply didn’t take

I hear your voice on the phone

The sound of trumpeting angels fills the room

My body filled with such excitement

Excitement over the chance

Those trumpets will be directed at me

It’s late at night I drift off to sleep

On those lucky nights when I dream

It is about you

Caressing your cheek, a gentle kiss

Smiles and laughter

Embraced with love

Our suffering freed by a dove

When I awake my dreaming simply didn’t take

These are dreams I know I shall miss

It was you who washed away the dirt

Giving me hope to a brighter future

A chance at what love was meant to be

Dreams

This is all I have

Dreams

Is all they are

By: Tim Lundmark

Signed Drawing and Poem Available at

http://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

 

Why Am I Still Alive?

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48 days ago I was going to commit suicide, yet here I am. I have been in deep self-reflection questioning and wondering why I am still alive. Six years ago was the last time I had an identical plan, preparations, suicide note and the intent to end my life, yet here I am. The suicide note I wrote six years ago resulted in a published book of poems, so I again ask myself what if anything will result from this intervention. I question and wonder was it divine intervention, or chaos theory which caused the series of events thwarting my plan to end my pain and leave this world behind.

The dark part of my mental illness comes with battling suicidal ideologies. The want and need to no longer be is always lingering; internally the battle rages on between selfishness and selflessness, feelings of hopelessness and hopefulness. Do I continue living in pain to spare the pain my death would cause to those who love me, or do I finally obtain peace and nothingness? There have only been three times in my life where selfishness had truly won, and I was at peace with my decision. I was more prepared and 100% ready to get the fuck out of here. I was no longer able to function with the pain. I started working on the details of the finality of my life about a month before I planned to carry it out, but before my much anticipated release, chaos erupts and in the blink of an eye everything turns to shit… or does it?

The story on how I ended up making my final decision is long and complicated, some of it I have written about, much of it went unwritten. I feel it would be therapeutic and helpful for me to go back and fill in the gaps between the post I wrote about moving out of the house and starting the divorce process through today. I know taking ownership and facing the reality of the roles I played in all of this will be difficult, but it needs to be done. With that being said the path I was on started with moving out and separating from my wife, and ended with me moving back home, everything in-between felt like a dream I couldn’t wake up from. So how and why did I get from there to here?

Six days prior to my date with nothingness, I discovered tangible proof of some disturbing shit involving my roommate and my daughter. My roommate and my daughter became a key component for my motivation and drive to end it all. I knew if I was no longer alive than she would have no choice but to move out of that house; I knew my blindness and denial was destroying her, but it was the shattering of this denial which caused me to flip out.

I was on the phone with my uncle and after a month of planning and silence I go on a rant about what I just found out about my roommate, I reveal my original plan and introduce the new addition to my plan. My uncle calls my sister; my sister calls the cops, and the cops show up beginning a series of events that led me here. This still doesn’t answer my question as to why I am still alive. With all of this added chaos and bullshit it should have been easier to keep my date with destiny, yet here I am.

Why… the only conclusion I can come to is I have been given a second chance. A second chance at making right all the wrongs in my marriage and with my children. My final safety net keeping me from offing myself has always been the impact it would have on my family, my safety net was gone. I had lost my family, but when my daughter and I moved back home that night I was filled with so many conflicting emotions; none of which involved suicide.

I am still lost in the forest of darkness and despair, the cause and effects of that night has actually caused greater stress and worry, yet here I am. My hopelessness has been replaced with hopefulness. This may be delusional thinking, but I feel I have hit the reset button on life giving me a clean slate at becoming a better husband and father. Is this why I am still here, to be a better husband and father? Is this divine intervention or chaos theory? Will this hopefulness last, or will hopelessness return?

The Puppet Master & The Never Ending Night

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Never Ending Night Frame 3Puppet Master Frame 4

 

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

Both drawings are limited numbered and signed, and come with a free signed copy of the poem.

 

Check it out

The Random Artist Has Been Created

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The Random Artist Has Been Created

I am happy to announce the opening of my online art shop TheRandomArtist. My shop is located on the website etsy.com. I wrote awhile back about the discovery of my ability to draw, and how this new-found ability boosted my confidence in myself. I received some awesome feedback from co-workers and friends on Facebook, and I was encouraged to start selling my art. At first I was unwilling to sell any of my originals because they held great meaning to me, it was suggested to me that I should start selling my prints. I thought this was a great idea, but honestly I lacked the confidence that anyone would actually buy anything. I once again turned to Facebook for some much-needed feedback, which gave me the final push of confidence to put myself out there, and risk facing one of my worst fears… rejection. Since I am not known as an artist it was decided to sell limited numbered signed prints at a low price, which ended up doing well on Facebook. Once I sold a few drawings I discovered Etsy and created my shop.

Each drawing is limited numbered 1/25 and signed, most of my drawings either inspired poetry, or my poetry inspired the drawings. If you purchase any of these drawings they will come with a free signed copy of the poem. At this point I cannot say this new venture has been a success. I have only sold one drawing, but when I received the notification of the sale, it was one of the top ten greatest moments of my life. I hope once I am able to get all of my drawings on the site I will begin to sell more.

My biggest problem is the lack of traffic to my store. Etsy provides any shop owner with the ability to market using a bidding system, in my opinion this type of marketing is high risk with a low probability of any kind of return on my investment. I decided to turn to my trusty blog to try to get the word out. I have wanted to do this for sometime now, but to be honest with you, it is very difficult for me to write. When I started this blog I wrote in it almost everyday, in doing so I noticed my writing skills improved. My writing skills have deteriorated ever since I stopped writing on a regular basis. I have written some random posts here and there, and noticed how poor my writing has become. One of the many things on my to do list is to write daily, not only to regain my lost skills but I also need to express my thoughts and opinions so they do not stay trapped in my head. unfortunately like many of the other items on my to do list this one goes undone.

If you are one of my many readers who have enjoyed my writings over the years please take the time to visit my shop and check out my drawings. I of course would love the sales, but I could use the feedback from my valued and loyal readers.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/TheRandomArtist

Broken and Trapped Within The Never Ending Night

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There is a place we go

Where we cannot find light

Our eyes adjusted

To our own twisted Plight

We hide in places

Live with fright

Within this never-ending night

We roam

We seek

In search of light

Mind to fucked to speak

Within his never-ending night

We reach our hands up high

Seeking comfort from imaginary hands

We find nothing

Only the pain

Which never went away

No end in sight

Within this never-ending night

Scream all you want

No one will hear

Reality is no one is there

I seek

Until my knees are weak

Reality setting in

I have traveled nowhere

Trapped within

My suffocating box

I am in this never-ending night

A feeble prayer

To a God who was never there

The time has come

Within this box

My mind rots

No air

No light

No hope

Only madness

Brought on from my never-ending night

My cold dark stare

nothing is something

Better

Than living in my never-ending night

In my hands

I hold the key

My only freedom

Only escape

From my never-ending night

One blissful pull

I enter into the light

It amazes me how quickly I can be beaten down. How easily I can fall apart. How little I can handle. How easily I can lie to myself. Its borderline delusional laced with denial. Happiness and hope are things I cannot know, let alone ever have. I want the acceptance, of knowing things will never be alright. I want the comfort that comes from embracing this reality. I don’t want to feel. I don’t want to think. Life was better when I was dead inside. It is so much better than to continue living a lie.