Merry Christmas, everyone.
Believe it or not, that's still completely accurate to say since it is still the Christmas season, though I will confess myself chuffed. I seemed to have gotten into proper Christmas spirit from the 27th to the 29th and I was finally able to relax from my problems, but now they're back. Damn anxiety. Anyway, seeing as how this is New Year's Eve, Happy New Year as well though I confess myself not excited for 2018. 2017 felt great, but 2018 feels like sh*t.
Anyway, before 2017 ends, I wanted to do one more "daily" writing exercise poem. This one is actually an edited version of the one I wrote for Day 48, although it still doesn't feel finished. I only feel like I have half it, but perhaps I can birth forth the rest of it. I also don't know what style of poem it is as it's a mixture of different things.
As for whether or not I'm going to continue doing daily writing exercises, at this time, I don't know. My anxiety and depression has hit hard, and I don't feel like doing them any longer. I feel it more necessary to focus on my other writings while trying to get a job. Plus, I want to experiment with my blog a little and branch out into other topics. So, we'll see what happens.
The Poem:
Tempted by forces damned,
To put my desires under command,
To use their powers dark,
Regardless of how my soul is mark'd.
With needs unmet,
suffering for my art,
poetry is born,
art from adversity--the great irony.
Material is immaterial,
Goods are superfluous,
In the world, but not of.
Master passion greed is not,
Master passion desire is to be
Operatic Liberty
Forsaken by the Lord,
Suffering under faith, hope, and charity,
Tempted by forces dark,
Despite how I may be mark'd,
To use their command
And achieve my desires damned.
Forswear God to vow to Satan
To forswear the world and end my misery;
What great irony,
Deliver myself to the Deceiver
To be delivered from his deceptions.
What a wretched wastrel I have become...
***
Well, it's not great... Seriously, it's not quite what I want, but it's pretty close. Closer than it was a few minutes ago. It's amazing what a few simple changes can do to a piece of poetry. But anyway, if you're a little confused, it's meaning is pretty much this: I've been praying to God and hoping for some kind of deliverance from my problems, it's not happening, so I've been thinking about turning elsewhere to get what I want. But what's ironic about that is that if I was smitten with money from the Prince of Darkness, I'd then turn around and give most of it away while keeping what I need to sustain myself and jumpstart my writing career during which I would continue to praise God, write prayers, and talk mad sh*t about the Devil and his servants. So, it's kind of hilarious; God won't give me what I want despite my intentions for it because I wouldn't have earned it, and the Devil won't likewise because he would be out the soul he bargained for it. Ain't that a kick in the sh*t? Also, there's some angst in there about disowning the material world in general and not just the mindless pursuit of wealth and possessions.
Anyone who says religion is easy or an escape can kiss my ass.
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