I've been downhearted baby.

(Surprise!) I am in a funk.
This Friday really broke me up. I feel that no matter how hard I try I just cant get these kids to see the light. Not in a religious sense but in a way that has them using common sense and apathy, passion and tenderness. And not be so rushed to grow up and face this Damn difficult world. I now know what those countless adults must have felt like, pulling out their hair trying to save me. It's hard to deal with. It's like... I reach them for just a moment and almost have them... and then... they stray. I wonder about all the kids who used to be in my old Rec Program at Paradise. I hope they are OK and doing well, but I am sure if I truly knew, my fears would just be validated. I look at my son and I just want him to be a kid. I used to play with action figures.. I remember the day I stopped, It was in Fifth Grade. I was in "Safe Key" after school and I brought some action figures to show the kids I went to safe key with. I got immediately made fun of, in fact the focal part of the remainder of that afternoon was to make fun of me. Calling me a baby. I wish I could go back in time and grab me and say, "Hey, you enjoy those toys as long as you can. It's OK to be a kid." The next day I put all my action figures away and they still remain (some of them at least) in a big box over at my mom's house. The next few month's I staved off boredom by playing video games and going out into the neighborhood meeting the older kids, picking up bad habits, learning life lessons from older kids who were just as clueless and confused as me. I would have been better off learning those lessons myself in the epic battles and human bonding I created through the playing of my action figures. Those month's after became the decline of my childhood and did not stop until I started my first drug and took my first drink. My childhood was gone... I was still a child. It's just too damn bad really. And it is so much harder for kids now. I work in a middle school and Rec center, these kids are dealing with sex, drugs, weapons, abuse, neglect, peer pressure, violence and confusion on a daily basis. Trust me! I am not making this bigger then it truly is... The kids from my school are Lower middle class to upper middle class... average housholds and they are plagued by the things I have listed off. I search kids and find knives and drugs. I read notes I find on the ground and they talk about about hoping they aren't pregnant and house party's and getting high and abusive parents. It's like working in a nightmare sometimes. And most of the adults I work with have given up. They are hopeless and listless and all these kids are to them is a God Damn paycheck! I stop fights where these kids are beating each other like adult cage fighters. They are out for blood because that is what they think they are supposed to do. Imagine now... these are supposed to be average kids. Imagine high risk neighborhoods with at risk youth. High gang presence. Prostitution. High drug trafficking area's. Now imagine the school's in those area's... I hate to be the bringer of bad news folks... it gets a hell of a lot worse. I just wish I knew the answer. If I had it, my life's mission would be to project that answer on the world. But in life, as we know, there are roadblocks. These roadblocks are, but not limited to, The parents (being the biggest of all.) The teachers (those that have given up and don't care about the students or the subject matter anymore) The Hero's (Where have they gone? Corrupt police? Pedophile Priests? Drunk abusive Dad and Slut Mom??? Where the hell are they). And then again, some of these kids are now enjoying a corrupt life, and no matter what you do. They will not change until they have that singular moment when they just... wake up. Some won't, and it breaks my heart to even try and even guess where that will lead them... most likely jail or death. I really want to give up some times. But even though I get disheartened and down, I am just to stupid to give up on these kids. I know they will break my heart every time, but if I don't try... how do I know they will ever meet anyone again in their life that will?

So yeah, I am sad and depression has it's hooks in me but, We will see... Maybe it will pass maybe not. I am sure you will see by my next post.

P.S. I want you to look at this kid and tell me, honestly... With all your heart... Don't you want the best for him and all his little kind... I know I sure as hell do.


Captain PirateFace

________________________________________________________________

Just one poem this morning, kinda sticks with my whiny theme as it is.

breaking our hearts, the last time, infinitely.

The children are losing this war.
No more childhood.
No more mystery and adventure.
No more Santa Clause and Trick or Treat.
Thrusting them into our horrible adult lives.
What have we become.
So quick to share the pain and guilt…
the weight of the world…
with these tiny souls.
these big hearts.
One day there will be no more children’s laughter.
The world will grow quiet and cold.
Then erupt in the screams and disdain of adulthood.
Look at their eyes..
God Damn it just look at them.
Look at what they are becoming and put that blame where it belongs…
back on all of us.
Most of us, the best time of our lives,
are hazy childhood memories that we grasp on to.
That we will not let go.
I can’t save them alone.
You can’t save them alone.
I wish with all my heart I had that answer.
but I don’t…
And I truly fear, that we never will.
And with that we will lose our most valued possession..
The love of our children.
The laughter and innocence of our children.
And that just breaks my heart.
And truly scares the hell out of me.

The most magical thing I can think of is walking with my son.
His little hand safe and secure holding mine.
And his amazing little voice say the word to me...
"Daddy".







Have a good day.

Captain PirateFace

silence lies empty

no words.










just words.




The wronged

the status quo is on to us.
we have been figured out and soon the attack will follow.
before we suffer the indignities of our fellow human beings…
let me hold you one last time.
Looking deep into those hypnotic eyes.
and even when they start to rip us limb from limb…
I will only feel your kiss.


god for a night

As he backed up his car, he heard a high pitched scream and slammed on the breaks. His heart nearly stopped as he was almost certain it was the scream of a child… maybe his. Getting out of the car in a panic, still pinned under his rear tire, with half a crushed body was the family cat. He felt relief and agony in one mixed emotion. The cat was dead but then again he was thanking God it wasn't his little girl. Not wanting his daughter to discover the corpse of the family cat he quickly pulled the car up, grabbed a garbage bag from the garage and put the furry little body rapped neatly in his trunk. Spraying down the sidewalk to remove all trace of blood. Late for work he drove off….

That night after his daughter fell asleep, after calling for her kitty for an hour strait, he went to his car to take care of his problem. Taking the bag from the trunk he went to the back yard and began digging a hole. After an hour or so he had finished and washed up and climbed into bed. An hour later in a half sleep his little girl climbed into his bed.

“Daddy.”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“Skitch didn't come home tonight. Do you think he is ok?”
“Well sweetheart… I didn't want to tell you until morning but Skitch had to leave.”
“Why?”
“Another little girl needed him, she was a very sad little girl and didn't have a friend in the whole world. Skitch said that he needed to help her and that you would understand.”
“I guess… But I already miss him.”
“I know honey, but Skitch was needed somewhere else… but he did tell me one other thing.”
“What?”
“That since he is gone, he said that you needed to go the animal shelter and rescue a kitten, just as he went to rescue that lonely little girl.”
“He did?!?
“Yes he did, and I told him that I would take off work tomorrow and you could take a day off school so we can do just that.”
“Thank you Daddy. I wish Skitch would have said goodbye though, I really do miss him.”
“So do I sweetheart… so do I.”

He stroked her hair until she fell asleep. And once he knew she was sound asleep he walked into his bathroom and wept. And the strange thing for him was, he hadn't cried this hard since his wife had passed away. Something’s are just hard to replace I guess.

Visiting the dead while the ghosts look on

This cemetery.
This place had claim over at least half of his family.
Always spending a small fortune on plastic flowers once a month.
Leaving a few mismatched flowers per gravestone…
Some people he loved dearly.
Some he never knew.
Some he didn’t much care for.
But he was the last one…
What could he do?
Leave for some but not the others.
The ones he knew, he used to leave letters for.
He knew damn well that they had been long gone…
Graves now filled with bones, maybe dust at best.
But it made him feel better…
Well it used to.
He had stopped after one day returning to the graveyard to see a homeless man reading one of his letters, laughing hysterically while sipping a beverage out of a plastic bag.
So, he now just comes and leaves his plastic flowers and say’s his silent whispers in front of each gravestone.
Every gravestone.
He wonders who will visit him?
But quickly gets depressed and switch’s his thoughts.
But he does decide one thing…
His grave, if possible…
will include a mail slot.

Goodnight


Captain PirateFace

He bangs his fists against the posts, but still insists he sees the ghost's

Loneliness

Loneliness is like a rain.
It raises from the sea towards the evenings;
from plains that are far and remote,
it goes to heaven, that always has it.
And only from the skies does it fall on the city.

Pours down in the twilight hours,
when all streets turn towards morning
and all bodies, which have found nothing,
leave each other, sad and let down;
and when people who hate each other,
have to sleep together in one bed:

then loneliness goes with the rivers…


R.M. Rilke,
21st September 1902, Paris

She said to me...
"You bring out the worst in me..."
__________________________________________________________


Had a rough weekend of manic breakdowns... (My poor wife got the brunt of it... she is a saint to deal with me.) Lots of anxiety and anger... always finishing up with severe depression. I made a weird statement today and I think it may be an entire truth, During one of my "rants" I told Gina I cannot write in the daytime. It sounds odd but I think it may be true. I carry around a notebook and rarely inspiration will hit during daylight hours. An inspired sentence may escape my thoughts but that is usually it. But, come nightfall my mind erupts like a diseased volcano. My "mean" moods have subsided for now, though now I am left with a deep depression. And, it's very hard to ask the woman you love to hold you and comfort you after you have been a bastard. So... I remain the lonely prick I deserve to be.

Here is some recommended listening for tonight...

1. Nine Inch Nails - the mark has been made
2. The Arcade Fire - Black Wave / Bad Vibrations
3. Bright Eyes - Theme to Pinata
4. explosions in the sky - six days at the bottom of the ocean
5. Gus Gus - Is Jesus your pal?
6. Tool - Sober
7. Tv on the radio - wolf like me
8. trust obey - a murder of crows
9. R.E.M. - night swimming
10. Bad Astronaut - the 13th step

on with the whiny whaa whaa's.
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The rabid thief that died for your sins

When I was a young man.
I troubled the world.
The blood still embedded in the skin on my hands.
The wicked violence and the uncontrolled lust.
I broke the hearts…
the souls…
the jaws…
the hymens.
Nightmares still visit me in the form of ruthless flashbacks.
I can’t kill my past or the devil I had become.
I drank fire and abused my body with white powders.
Even now, the good deeds done daily…
cannot kill that bad karma that will haunt me until the end of time.


The thought process

Sometimes I sit for hours in front of this machine.
I sit and tremble.
Sometimes I get sidetracked.
Laughing at things.
Looking for porn.
Sometimes I write…
yeah, it’s been known to happen.
Sometimes I erase all I have written that night.
And, sometimes I should have.
Every once in a while… almost nightly…
I cry.
This six foot three, two hundred ninety five pound man…
slumps over in his plastic chair and sobs.
Even with the mood I am in now I can’t help but laugh at that last line.
Sometimes I die a little with what I give.
Sometimes I hope certain people will read certain things…
fall more in love with me, hate me, laugh, cry…
and sometimes I will never know how it affected them, if at all.
Sometimes I want to give up.
Writing.
Life.
Marriage.
but never being a dad.
I hope this is entertaining someone…
Because when I take a second to look back on it, it just makes me sad.
And I hope it is worth something to somebody.


a phone call

the voice reach’s through the line and chokes my throat.
the voice calls forth tears and sobbing and begging.
the line goes dead.
and I already begin to forget how she sounds.
the way she would sound in a whisper.
the line is silent but for a faint echo of my own voice.
I hang up the phone.
I silently pray that I will never get a phone call again.


how to go coma

We repeat the mistakes we have blindly stumbled through once before.
like begging her to say my name one last time,
again and again…
I remember transforming from boy-coward to vicious bloodthirsty bastard to man-coward.
I would lure in the victim and show them.
I had nine lives and spent all but one and the one I have is almost a laugh.
No midnight, doom button pushing.
No chasing the shadows and fighting the darkness as strangers looked on in nervous panic.
I am now a seething, sneering man-weapon.
With… no trigger in sight.


late night and empty photo albums

I think of all the moments I have yet to lie about.
Parts of my past that don’t yet exist.
People that will have loved me…
People that have died for me…
That have never existed.
Rainstorms that have never shed a raindrop.
Lies I am all too willing to craft.
So often…
I cannot recall what was real anymore.

She used to hold my hand.

They say things change.
I never thought that would apply to her.
Then again so have I.
The change in me has brought about the change in her.
My awkward and troubled spirit…
has broken hers.
She used to hold my hand.
She used to say she loved me.
She used to look me in the eyes and respond with a smile.
I have ruined her.
An unforgivable offense.
I have tore the wings from an angel…
and caged her inside these walls with a madman.
I know that we will at least suffer well,
together.


Sleep

I almost can’t sleep anymore.
almost.
I fall asleep fully dressed on those nights I need to and want to stay awake.
But most nights are dedicated to wide eyed empty time.
And the clock counts down hour by hour to the time I have to wake up.
When will I grow the hell up?

the weighed down

The days always begins with a long shower in the pitch black.
Sitting on the floor, hot water a makeshift blanket.
Urging me back to sleep and inevitably…
late for work.
The day follows with criticism and harassment…
the biting of the lip until the pain is just too much.
And this new term of “To live, one must suffer through work”, becomes a new life motto.
The day ends with a pitiless welcome home and more criticism and harassment.
The day ends into night and all is well, alone and at peace for the few hours until we set alarms to do it all again…
I can see the future,
and the morning looks like shit.




Goodnight...

Captain PirateFace

Fuck your Disco Noise!

First off I would gladly like to address my very first "Ask the Captain" question! Yay!
Our first question comes from Ben Hall, Comic Book artist, Super Nice Guy, Owner of www.blueskycomics.com , and one of the nicest damn guys I have ever met. Here is a picture of him...

Sorry Ladies he is taken...
And to add insult to injury not only is he taken...
He was voted "Best Nipples in Texas 2006" and "The Hot Dog Cram Champ 2006".
Ben was so excited and determined to get this question answered he even submitted it twice!!!

Benjamin Hall said...

I have a question.
Where exactly is the "G spot"?
2:59 PM

Benjamin Hall said... I have a question!
Can you tell me the exact location of the "G spot"?
3:01 PM

Before I start let me point out some observations...
Ben let a full minuet go by before re posting his question... anxious?
Notice on the second question he added in the exclamation point.. (hmm?)
also elaborating on "The exact location". He needs precision damn it!

Well Ben, Let the ol' Captain take a swig of rum and put on his ol' Captain's hat....
Well me hearty! If ye be like the captain ya need not know the mythical location of the G-Spot! But let this old sea dog help ye out anyhow...
I was once asked this same here question by a cabin boy who shared the same
name as you... Ben.
First I drew the poor lad a map which I shall include in this here post!

Now some may be confused by this so here is the answer you seek!
First you get yer best dagger and cutlass, ya take the dagger and the cutlass
and put it in yer fair ladies hands and tell her "If I be getting to rough,
Ye may need to protect yerself." Then... Dig for buried treasure me boy!
She will love you forever (until you leave her at the next sea port that is!)
Arrrg! Make sure to do the deed on the ship for the rockin' and swayin'
of the boat will do most of the job for ya!
I hope I answered yer question me boy!
____________________________________________________________________ Well kids, Let me tell you... I officially fucking hate the Clark County School District! I get treated like shit and finally have given in to the saying I never thought would hold any Merritt for me... "Over worked and under paid". As of late, No matter what I do or how I do it... One of the five supervisors I have finds fault with what or how I am doing it while the other four sit back and say nothing... the funny thing is I only do what I am told! It's the classic case of too many "Cooks in the kitchen" or as I like to call it.. "Too many Assholes in the building!". One will tell me to do something, then one will get pissed, freak out on me and ask me why I am doing it. When I tell them because I was told to do it by so-and-so there response is "oh", and then they walk away. Not a "Hey, Sorry for coming down on you" or "My bad" or some recognition of treating me like a fucking slave. Nope. I am the low man on the totem poll. Let my life be a cautionary tale... I screwed up as a kid and now have to work in a job that does not provide for my family without working a second job (while still scraping by), and be told to do everything under the sun by over paid, over fed assholes. breath in... breath out. Sorry, sometimes a good rant can semi-heal, near fatal wounds.

____________________________________________________________________ Oh, by the way... if you would like a link to your website or blog on my links section... let me know, I would be more than happy to link it up... maybe even get a link on your site back to this here shit-machine!

____________________________________________________________________ Here is some fresh crap strait from the diseased mind typing away as I speak! (WTF?)






____________________________________________________________________

Beasts

Laughing and snorting.
Chewing food loud enough you can hear the teeth grind together.
Almost too much to take.
You could probably abort their own children...
Stick it on a plate and serve it up, and these beasts would eat on up.
Counting the hours until I can go home.
If on judgment day St. Peter asks me if I suffered...
This will be the day I will bring up on the top of my list.



Heartache's and Heart Attacks

She's twisted up...
like organs intertwined...
complex and alien to me.
I know she has a heart...
Without one she would be gone from me.
It's a soul she lacks.
You see the body never lies.
You can see her living and breathing.
Aching with dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and late nights.
Lungs black from too many cigarettes to accompany the drinks killing off the liver.
She's rotting the inside...
Just like she is rotting the soul.
The birds still sing for her.
Though we all know she doesn't deserve it.
But we all play medic...
trying to save this patient...
as often as we can.



The Heart Never Tires

Like the blood flowing through this body.
Pumping through this massive heart.
The heart never tires.
And for this I know.
As long as it carries this life blood through me.
I will love you forever.
This life's blood...
mixing with this soul.


She left the television on all night long.

The note said...

I can't take this... you... us anymore.

And left the television on.
A video was playing. Just her swimming in a pool.
Blue soft water during a hot summer day.
She did this to say: "Look what you lost".
I let the video play.
Stop.
Rewind.

I hit record on a station with no picture, nothing but snow.
And this quickly becomes my new favorite video.
Taking away the little power she had left.
Even though I still shed some tears whenever I put that damn video on.
I won be she remains "winning".



And.... i am spent....

I leave you with Lyrics to the best 2 Lagwagon Song's ever written...

"Making Friends"

As you in this search for something to hate
I can feel you rally around someone with your peers
but can you stand alone
Can you take the long way home
Cause I stood in the circle a hundred times before
and I feel safer in the eye of a storm
You can throw your stones
I'll only bleed for you one day
They all answer to the hearsay
but they will only care for one day
It's so small and I would love to show you
all I can see you in the middle of a doubt
You told them we had a falling out
Sick your dogs on me as you take the easy way out
So I will be a freak show when the circus comes to town
and I will rain on your parade without a sound
Then we will draw a crowd that's only breaking down for one day
I graduate this class with honors
I will never fail drama
Making Friends
Will you still hate me tomorrow?

and

"sleep"

Hi it's me I'm bored again all is well I'm not insane
I've been drunk for seven days everything is fine
i made some friends broke the ice
then i ate bread and cheese to gain some weight keep me warm
every thing's o.k.
(chorus) it's me delivering psychosis over the phone to you
i color your world blue
ten thousand miles from you
I'm sinking all alone
treading new waters
i miss my buoy
the van smells like a dirty sock
everyone has got the flu
I'd rather be sick of you
I'd rather be asleep
(repeat chorus)
when i get home the band will have it's first hit song
you and i will buy some rings and a suburban home
I'll bring home the bacon bits
we'll make our parents grandparents
I'll take you out to breakfast at night
and then we'll go to sleep


Goodnight... Love, Captain PirateFace


FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Ask the Captain"

I am opening up this little Pandora's box of an experiment called...


"Ask the Captain"


if you have a question you can:

a. e-mail me with the question (@ Captpirateface@aol.com) and I will post the question and the answer (And will only include your e-mail address if you want me too) on the next blog posting.
b. leave a comment on pornographyontheradio in any blog and I will respond to it in the next posted blog...


The fun part of this folks is that we don't have any Idea what kind of fucked up mood I will be in when I answer (like now I am feelin' pretty groovy). So catch me on a bad day your response maybe filled with colorful expletives!

Cool Huh? It's now an open Idea... if I don't get one "Ask the Captain" then I just wont be doing it then, no big deal.

Love, Captain PirateFace

"Woah there little fella... let's not get all "Eat the Asian" allrighty?"

David Lynch's "Alphabet" just for shits and giggles!

I took minor liberties in adding letters that were unseen or maybe just forgotten.
Enjoy!