Monday, March 28, 2011

"Taboo Jive" Article #1 - Religion, the Scapegoat?

Can man, unbounded by any form of religion, truly be fulfilled in his life? Well…not really.

It is achievable for any man, women, child, plant, or animal to venture off into his own pleasures and worthless ambitions without the guiding of a supreme being. For those who are not shackled to the chains of religion, realize that the stereotype or title as personifying a certain faith may not suit them. Maybe they find themselves…just being content with the fact that they are living in the here and the now. Neither the past nor the self destined future, does not define the kind of people we are or will become.

Either with or without a God, poses its strengths and doubts.

Through the eyes of Jean Paul Sartre, a French Existentialist philosopher, he concurred, “If there is no God, then everything is permissible, as a result man is forlorn, because neither within him nor without does he find anything to cling to. He cannot start making excuses for himself.”

Humans, being the self-centered, egocentric, power driven creations as we are, do not want to take the full responsibility or blame for our own faults. Not a big surprise. For some odd reason, we can never own up to all the misfortunes that happen in our everyday life that affect others around us…and therefore we meet our scapegoat, our belief system.

Taking any religion and transforming it into our own personal safety net is where innocence and virtue fade away indefinitely from our mind. To pursue our dark, foul advances in life and justifying them with the preconceived notion of “my religion made me do it” or “it was God’s will” does not solve anything. Most people are extremely naive to the fact that they lead themselves to their own demise through their appetitive appetites and sinful vices. The hardcore, pious freaks of any faith explain their deranged behavior as something that a divine deity would have performed.

No, God did not make you perform a divine suicide act to kill thousands of innocent people. No, it was not God who made you mistreat and discriminate others of different racial and ethnic backgrounds. No, wars were never waged for the pleasing of any God.

No divine power would instill sheer hatred into your mind and cause you to perform horrifying, fatal actions to your fellow man.

Some of those “creatures” walk among us all the time and can never truly look at themselves in the mirror and say, “I am at peace.”

No matter what you believe…do not hide from the truth. It will not work.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Mind Game

More coarse and brawn then than a lion's empirical mane,
was a man who selflessly embodied shame.
His heart internally bled from sheer pain.
The woman he loved dearly stung like acid rain.

Her envy, so heavily engrossed, grew so wretchedly vain.

Day after day, she knew of no other game.
Unruly behaviors that grew so tiresome to tame.
Spiraling downward with emotions so easy to disdain.
Subtle mysteries that lied beyond the sky were difficult to contain,
due to the demons spreading like fire throughout the country plain.

Light unveiled. The lover ignited the flame!

Pausing time, the beast broke the chain.
Virtue, now, is so hard to regain -
Vices, so very crucial to refrain.
That is when I knew, life would never be the same.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

As Good As The Guys: A Short Story

                   Visualizing kicks, punches, and feet pivoting to and fro is what made me grow to love the art form of self defense. Trying to mimic all those who successfully mastered this art was the hard part. My success was solely based upon my discipline and physical abilities. However, when arriving at the self proclaimed United Mixed Martial Arts studio in La Mirada, I realized I had no skill (whatsoever) to work with. The studio was thriving off of its own energy and subtle treasures – tattered boxing gloves, a fresh blue mat spread across the dojo, and an old man’s body stench permeating the room. The old man in the black Tapout long sleeve was teaching a particular take down method to the male-dominated class. Taken back by the many men in the class, I stepped away from the scene for a countless amount of seconds, as if I was a hermit crab retreating into its own shell in fear of the enemy. My timid disposition floored me. I shared nothing in common with any of these fighters: nothing in the least extent. The studio itself was a living / breathing male entity. I was the only one with the polished lips, little dodge ball shorts, and clips fastened in my hair…I was the only girl!

             Would it be look right if I carried on with this class? “Skye, this is more than you can possibly handle,” I told myself with a stained sigh escaping through my teeth. While trying to regain my composure – “try” would be the key word – the old man gazed over in my direction and signaled me with a wave of his hand to walk towards him.
 “What’s your name, kid? Are you new,” he said in a deep voice while gasping for every last bit of air he could gather. The man looked built, most likely my height – maybe even a little bit taller – he had long, gray hair – definitely surpassing my locks – tied securely in a pony tail. His facial features were burly and strong like that of an Alaskan lumberjack. Traces of aging were dug in the bold crevices of his face. He looked like he was most likely bridging that age gap between 45 or 55 years of age.
With a failed attempt of me getting to know the instructor better, one of the fighters cried out to him, “Al, when is the next CXF gonna be? I am dying for my moment in the ring!”
Obviously these people mean business. Maybe this little cave of a studio, with its dark, dusty corners had its own source of vitality.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought,” I convinced myself. Even though it mirrors the heat of hell and had the constant weird / awed looks directed towards me, I would learn a lot here. Al – I assumed that was the old man’s name – then turned back towards me and stuck out his firm hand. I grabbed his hand delicately yet sturdy enough and said with a confident smile, “My name is Skye…and yes I am new to this class.”
“Well,” he said looking down at my clean hands, “you have a lot to learn, kid. Maybe one of these days you can take up sparring with one these guys over here,” laughs and smiles from some of the fighters surfaced, “but for right now, you need to learn the basics.” I inhaled and held my breath for awhile. I need to be quick, I need to be fearless, and I need to fit in. I knew damn sure, without a doubt in my mind, I was going to be as good as the guys. Period.
 Time passed and I continuously got better. Many of the fighters started noticing me mature in the class and slowly the odd looks started fading away. I met a few friends but mostly, I was alone; I was too submerged in the activity and not so much the people around me. I didn't care to the least extent...too many melodramatic people with insignificant issues in the Mixed Martial Arts world. Trainers turn against friends...but luckily, I kept my distance. Regardless, I started gaining respect; and, before I knew it; I was throwing combos like a mad man / revolving my feet quicker than lightning crashing into the earth / kicking down bags as if they were the most hated people I knew in my life. Blood breaking through my elbows and knuckles was the only reassurance I needed to know that I was doing my job. The taste of salt hitting my lips was enough hydration for me. Rough bass thumping through the speakers was in sync with the intrinsic reverberation of my heart beats. Feeling my shin make contact with the bag was swift like a bullet, piercing the air it traveled through. Smelling my perfume slowly getting masked by the pungent stench of sweat was glistening over me. My zone encompassed this checklist. I felt unstoppable.

After a year and a half, I left the studio. Everything started piecing itself together and in the end, I finally realized I needed no verbal affirmation. I gazed at everyone, half relieved and half overwhelmed, as I took my final steps out the door. Getting lost in my thoughts for a second, I smiled a vicious grin and said to myself, "I am as good as the guys."

Design & The Art of Fixation

Sirens from the depths of Hell
wrap arms so gentle -
so vivacious, sovereign, and warm with vitality -
that cause gentleman's heart to swell.
They give you a seductive glance
with a visage so malicious -
so demonic a vex -
no one dare stand a chance.
Her lips speak with belligerence -
to horrific to rehash -
only the crude and sly
obtain the divine power of vehemence.
These creatures feed off of one man -
it is only through him they learn to thrive;
however, tempest being his only enemy
runs thin in the hour glass sand.
His debonair, lustful demeanor
lures me in like a forbidden lullaby -
tenderly bids me to walk forth towards him -
oh! the toil of star crossed lovers, so inferior.
I feel the grip of gravity
drawing me closer into his love -
so vulgar and raw the escape we pretend in -
his darkness engulfs me.

A force, so extreme, manipulates my blood flow -
he exudes the innocence I have always longed for.
Is it sheer possibility? Only God shall know.

Holding His Weight

"Oh! How Beautiful The Sands Of Time."
By Skye Lyon
No one can contain his body and store it beneath the ground...

Such inviting prose rolling off his rugged tongue. Not a scar worn proudly nor a fought battle won; oddly, it comes as no surprise he never utters a single sound. Some hold preconceptions of him as the tenacious son, in actuality, it was her who left him the somber one. From point A to the point of no discretion, for years he has been plagued and tiresome. He loves no one; however, I love him. As I gaze upon him every morning, I realize he is my only one. To win his heart, I race to collect the glitters falling from the sun but the impact shows an outcome that is little to none. He is sand in the wind gliding ever so gingerly, slowly dispersing across the midday sky. Leaving his unfinished story behind...

He is gone.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Man Is Beast

Think of it through this perspective –
You are the means I use to control
To grab and squeeze the vitality out of your mortal soul.
I taint and disturb your thoughts of me, every night
To instill doubt, inflict hysteria, to be that obstacle in your life.
But I am not paranoid, no…not to the least extent
You will continue to love me with full intent.
Your wrath will cause anguish and you will learn to embrace my silent ways
However, soon your tempestuousness behavior will die and your acceptance will stay.
Oh, how I adore the way you idolize me as the only deity you see.
The rituals in which you live your life to satisfy my needs entertain me more than you will ever know.
I am man. I am beast.
You dumbfounded little lamb, are my helpless feast.

Let me refrain from everything I said. I love you truly until the day I die - but how am I suppose to love when I do not love myself.

Man is beast and man lives through a woman as his Hell.

By Skye Lyon
20 October 2010


Indigo blue outlined the horizon. The faint distance that laid beyond us almost seemed to dissolve into the sky. Heaven and earth were united as one colossal being. It was mid January. Frosted roof tops with dampened, musky fireplace chimneys set the ambiance. The cool, crisp breeze continued with incessant haste to bite at our lips regardless of the small transference of heat through the simple touch of holding his hand. It made no difference. His subtle harmonization of his green eyes made that fraction of timeless splendor even better. Day after day, I fall deeper into his sensuous pool of green eyes. Oh! How I forevermore want to keep falling like the snowflakes from the sky.

By Skye Lyon
14 March 2011

Sunday, March 13, 2011

South of Heaven & North of Mars

"Sunbeams End, Starlights Begin"
by Skye Lyon
He whose aspirations fall in denial, dare not see the world with an earnest smile. The birth of fury began at last and the demon's disguise finally set in. Through all of this man's minute intricacies, he gave himself up and threw his soul into the flames of everlasting heartache - he fell just south of heaven. While dying slowly in his downward spiral, he made acquaintances with a troubled seraph. Timeless and unbounded by a higher being, they departed from their fate and roamed the universe as two perplexed vagabonds. The pair searched for the memories they lost eons ago, some strenuous and disturbing - but mostly lecherous, libidinous wrinkles of time they truly longed to relive once more. They landed just north of Mars. Desolate. Barren. Empty voids that led to nowhere. God stuttered in nonsense prose - the Devil drifted away in utter confusion...

The two pilgrims dodged birth, death, and eternity itself.

The man and the seraph, just like all beings of the human race, had a genesis not originating from religion. We are all children of the cosmos and are the solved variables from delicate remnants of the stars.

By Skye Lyon
5 November 2010

We Are Not A Science Experiment

How can I pursue the one person I know I will never have? You.

You are that unattainable perfection that can by no means possibly be reached - holding your spirit out in the midst of God's effortless creation is what you are destined for. At vague moments during sundown, as I lay in the presence of new born shadows, I find myself in dire need of your affection. Day by day I grow immovable. I grasp on to you with all my might in hopes of you never floating away. It is impossible to break my sheer fixation with you.

We are not a science experiement, sweetheart. My bond will never tire or weaken. Our paths were interwoven into one linear route for one lone purpose. The chemistry was fortold and predestined by a supreme power. Nothing man made could ever create nor destroy the matter, the energy of our infectous love.

By Skye Lyon
13 March 2011

Love's Fatal Ambivalence

Stuck in an ambivalent stupor, I sit here in my loneliness and try to recollect a time when my existence was not an irritant. Not a curse, unknowingly, placed upon my loved ones. On the edge of my demise...I feel a comfortable sensation and a forlorn nostalgia calling me from my adolescence. How I yearn for my virtue and my naive essence that once sustained my fragile being. I cry. Crying with tears that slice straight through my skin, causing me to bleed out my melancholy and regret. Laughing with frightening vigor and through the teeth of a crooked smile - I find my final solution, oddly, in complete disarray. I can only imagine that through this process, it will surely ease my tension forever. My eyes gloss over the gaping depths that lie before me. It is a long way down...3, 2, 1. I surrender. I selflessly give into a supreme love.

By Skye Lyon
3 March 2011