All posts by jacktrismegistus

I am called Jack. I am an incarnation of all the Jack's that have ever been. My opinions and philosophies are a reflection of said Jack's. The blog is entitled Inglorious Resurrection because like you I have been granted yet another chance, and like you each chance granted becomes more degenerative than the previous. And like you, I yearn for a way out. Jack is my only glimpse of hope because there is a lil Jack in all of us.
Poems

Uncaged monkey ( a poem by Jack)

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The 100th monkey effect..

Not ready to give something up..

Surrender…

If the host evolves the parasite dies…

I don’t need to live… Just die every day so I can come back and die again!

It’s not order… But it’s harmony.. Like riding on a freeway..

Yet we’re dealing with dualities and opposites..

Misinformed and pleasantries that allow fallacy to go unchecked.. Wrath is in order.. In fact it is the only order.. The purpose that chaos knows best..

In fact let us burn it all… Allow the volcano to erupt.. Allow the magma to destroy everything.. So that we can begin anew.. Start fresh as nutrients risen from the ashes..

Dualities and opposites..

Kill it’s opposite and watch as its lover elevates… Illuminates.. And reinvigorates the truth within us all…

God save the Queen…

Not her at all…

Let us save Our Queen… Let’s resurrect this dead spirit so that we too may be redeemed by her grace..

Quid Pro Quo..

All it takes is for one to change.. The others will fall in line..

Monkey need not see… Need not hear.. Need not say…

Inevitable monkey will do.. The gravitational reality of truth will innately provoke each monkey to do…

Be a good lil monkey….

Give up who you are… And be what you were meant to be forever…

Poems

Self-Pity (a poem by Jack)

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I wouldn’t expect you to understand

Beautiful people always come… But they never stay…

Taken from me… Either through asylum.. Death… Or just the vicissitudes of fate.. Perhaps it’s all in the timing of it all…

It’s something I’ve gotten used to… But am I supposed to?

As though a glimpse of beauty is all I’m deserving of… A slice of heaven is enough to sustain my essence… Momentarily… Until a vacuum is created…

I’m frail.. Can’t you see?

I need that beauty… Without it.. Well the void fills itself with whatever is accessible..

Memories just happen when you’re alone you know… Sometimes it’s why I run from the solitude.. Can never let the silence catch up to me..

Constantly ducking and dodging the sunset… Drowning out the midnight truths… The quiet echoes just as the revenge reverberates until the whispers amplify into screams…

Neglectful screams…

But I wouldn’t expect you to understand…

I just look up at the stars and some of it begins to make sense… But then I look all around me… And I’m just as bemused as ever…

I don’t even understand it.. So how can I expect you to?

Poems

Beauty and the Beasts (a poem by Jack)

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She means the world to me…

But the monster in her eye just wants to feed on me..no matter how much she hides it.. Disguises it..

It’s always there.. Lurking.. Waiting…

The monster won’t let me love.. It doesn’t even want her to live…

She claimed she slayed the beast.. But I still see it.. Playing coy.. Fragmented in her emotions…

But love has little to do with this…
It to shall pass..

She will find another.. One willing to sacrifice himself to the beast..

I too shall elope… But with destiny and all she has to offer.. Such so that I can spend each lifetime with her… Comforted by the foreverness of it all…

In this land of the somewhat free and home of the docile… Feed me more is the only anthem…

Chant it with me!

Safeguarding yourself while feeding these monsters is the struggle… All the signs warn us: Don’t feed the monsters!

But how else can I eat… If that’s all I can be…

A hypocrite.. For truth is I can’t feed two monsters…

How can I ever be fit for another… When my own monster is malnutritioned…gaunt because I refused it…

Denied it my love.. But it just refuses to leave…

Can I transfigure who I am?

Become something the parasite can no longer survive on…

Well maybe then… I can honestly show her… That she means the world to me…

Like the time before we bathed in the Red… Basked in the White.. And swam amongst the Blue… And the stars revealed truth instead of enforcing a manifest Destiny…

The stars showed us who we are… Now they just twinkle unnoticed… Refracting the light of the many…representing the hubris of innocence lost…

Uncategorized

Leigh Anne Tuohy, Racism, and the White Saviour Complex

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Telling..

Anne Thériault's avatarThe Belle Jar

Leigh Anne “That Nice Woman Sandra Bullock Played In The Blind Side” Tuohy recently posted the following picture and caption on her Facebook and Instagram accounts:

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“We see what we want! It’s the gospel truth! These two were literally huddled over in a corner table nose to nose and the person with me said “I bet they are up to no good” well you know me… I walked over, told them to scoot over. After 10 seconds of dead silence I said so whats happening at this table? I get nothing.. I then explained it was my store and they should spill it… They showed me their phones and they were texting friends trying to scrape up $3.00 each for the high school basketball game! Well they left with smiles, money for popcorn and bus fare. We have to STOP judging people and assuming and pigeon holing people!…

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Memoirs, Memoirs of a Fling

Memoirs of a fling….(Day 2)

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Lies aren’t always bad.

“Do you care about me?”

I could have been honest and said no. Well, not no in the literal sense, but in the sense that the question was derived. You see, being the analytical minded person that I am, I knew she meant in the romantic sense or loving sense. Not in the sentiment that one would care for any fellow human. Because, the answer was just that, I care no more for her than any other person.

But what was my answer?

“Yes,” of course.  I don’t know if the lie went detected or if it mattered for that matter.  I think that was all she wanted to hear anyhow.  The manner in which she would provide me with all types of unwarranted affection assured me of it

Memoirs, Religion, Young Black Male

Memoirs of a Christian on the edge… (an unfortunate Messiah)

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I’m in the midst of one of my faith lapses. You know, one of those periods when I’m feeling deprived of divine presence. I feel drunk with the ambiguity of ethereal incentive. And what do you know. Out of all the days I volunteered at Jonesboro Middle School–he had to choose this day.

He had to choose this day to purge his little soul to me!

Rather, his ideal of identity to me. As though, of all people, I had the answer. What force drove him to gravitate towards me on this most auspicious of days.

“Why doesn’t God love me…Why doesn’t he love me like he does all the other families?”

And I had a good idea as to where he was coming from. I had a general understanding of the boys unfortunate background and troubled lot in life. I knew he simply wanted reassurance–encouragement that a father figure would generally invoke, but as deprived as he was of such he decided to seek this role from me.

But, he simple chose the wrong day. The most pivotal of times in a boys life, I suppose it was imminent though. Truth has an awkward way of presenting itself. I knew the appropriate thing to say, but this came out,

“Well…Maybe you should find a new God…Yours doesn’t seem to work any more.”

And I didn’t mean it like it came out, but the way he looked at me conveyed everything. He didn’t look away; he didn’t panic; a tear graced from his eye, yet he remained stoic. But unjustly on some level he understood what I meant. Of course God doesn’t love you or me. God loves his own and that’s it. Right? Only his own. He makes his own happy.

Not the likes of you and me.

Memoirs, Memoirs of a Fling

Memoirs of a fling….(Day 1)

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I often lay next to her in complete angst. Our bodies emanating a warmth that laid dormant within. My ego assuaged but my conscience strained. She would give me unwarranted affection. She would make me feel as though I was special, but in reality I couldn’t be special. At least not towards her.

“I feel secure and at home when you hold me like this.”

It was the statements like this that provided the paradox. How could you feel at home in the arms of a stranger? I derived the conclusion that she really didn’t care who’s face belonged to the arms that she was encrusted in. She simply wanted warmth and a face. A face that she could entrust and love. A face that she could emerge herself in and find solace, in hopes of fleeing her exaggerate feeling of being alone.

Any face would do.

And for this moment, I just so happen to be that face. And who I am has little relevance to anyone.

–Least of all her. You see, her and I create a quandary. Not quite lovers for no intercourse has been exchanged. Although, that may be desired mutually by both parties. It has yet to occur and may never. Not quite friends for not enough information has been exchanged. From her to I a profuse amount of information has been exchanged. From me to her, not so much.

Poems

Bounty Hunter (a poem by Jack Sniffles)

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Maybe she’s here to gather a soul on the edge… Why let it go to waste when you can gather it’s remnants as your own…

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Death isn’t what they suppose it to be.. They say I’m selfish… The nerve of them to even claim rights to my existence in my inexistence…

Oh… It’s the repercussions I must fear?

From who? Lol….

Well if she feeds off misery, she will have none here… If she feeds off self-loathing, she will have none here.. If she feeds off the aftermath of wasted potential, well she may get more than she can handle..

But what’s mine is mine, and no one else’s. If I no longer want it, then I can destroy it with no guilt…

And that alone provides a source of satisfaction… An inspiration in a sense…

Ironic..

The idea of some type of morbid attainment…the only attainment is freedom from myself… And the prison I so conveniently created for myself… A self-referential pattern of thoughts and beliefs that keep me confined.. Constricted…

And reduced to a blob of me…

So she may be here to gather a soul on the Edge…But does she want the responsibility that comes along with it…

Perhaps she may see me for me… Shed the filth and simply repackage my core.. Bundle me with another and sale us as a bargain bundle pack…

Two souls… For the price of one…

Twice the despair and half the hope….

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Poems

A mirror is nothing more than a doorway to a greater truth..(a poem by Jack)

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The monster feeds himself.. At every whim… At every chance.. An insatiable desire… It just won’t stop feeding…

It makes me feed it…

I do… Because I still have chunks of me missing from my refusal.. And I feed it by any means necessary.. There’s no peace unless she’s feeding…. And for a slight moment when she is done…

What do you have to offer to the Pot?

Time?

She likes your time…

Energy?

She especially enjoys energy…

Although her favorite dish is your attention… Give her all your attention and she’ll be delighted…I mean only for a moment though.. Although the moment you withdraw your attention her petulance activates!!!

Americaville protect me!

Americaville forgive me..

God show me the road to perdition…

Where is this vicarious absolution so I don’t have to atone for this mess.. I just fed the beast I’m not responsible for her doing..

Look! I too have suffered… Is that not enough…

Shall I prepare a hardy sacrifice… Some of my best fruit or grain..

No…

Perhaps my best Ram…

No…

Human sacrifice?

Closer…

My first born?

(I want out but I can’t escape… She’s everywhere I go.. I can’t breathe without her knowing.. I can’t work unless it’s for her benefit.. She’s all encompassing… She suffocating.. I’m scared because I want out! But she’s everywhere… Every piece of this earth is her domain.. And everywhere I go everyone is under her dominion.. Her dominion knows no bounds..)

Woah… My first born? Am I not enough? Is all my toil not enough? Must you have it all…

(You see… I’ve figured out a way to defeat her.. She must implode… Yah that must be the key… Make her eat herself into oblivion before she devours us all..)

If you spare my seed.. I’ll do anything..

You want us both?

I see…

This thing in the mirror is almost unrecognizable… This isn’t what I wanted to be at all… Did I make me this way… This isn’t what I’m supposed to be…

It just kind of happened…

And now I know no way out of this scenario… This reflection.. Of something that isn’t me…so I feed… And feed…

And feed…

Poems

Fear …… Fate (A poem by Jack…)

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Why do I have to witness the aftermath of my destruction..

The faces… The tears… The loss

Can I not walk away and turn my back on all the pain…

Sadism I have no affinity for..

I’m just in love with the chaos..

A beautiful desolation..

Let me revel in my contempt… Not contempt for the victims… They’re simply collateral damage..

But contempt that I couldn’t destroy more… So many more psyches to crash… Souls to burn.. Spirits to smash…

Let me build you up… Let me melt you into inexistence… For that is my only expression of love..

How come the memories just fadeaway like it never was…

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Why don’t the memories fade… Haunting me like a ghost… You were just there.. Now.. You are no more… Etched into oblivion… Burnt in the history of abstract desires… And misplaced happiness…

Why does it feel… How does it fell…

Lost amongst the shambles… Why must I know… I’m just a machine built to terminate.. Why do I need to know? I don’t need to see the aftermath… Feel the repercussions.. Know the struggle of reconciliation…

I’m just the demolition man… That’s the life that chose me…and if karma has it.. I too will meet the fate I so earnestly bestowed… Running in circles… Only brings me closer to my destiny…

So why resist?

Let me face this fear I’ve spent forever running from.. This desolation.. This suffering.. If it’s for me to bear… Let it be… Let’s see how much trauma I can sustain…before you turn your back on me…

At least your doings will be justified…