"Taboo Jive" Article #2 - Our Last Frontier: Part I - The Clash of Religion & Somewhere Beyond the Stars

Fathoming the concept of existence and, or absence in the cosmos can be overwhelming to us. No one truly knows…and will most likely never fully understand what lies beyond the threads of our puny galaxy. Are we alone? Are we created in a specific design to fulfill a purpose? Through my eyes, I have tried to come to form some sort of enlightenment for myself to create a better understand of life around me.
 

Here begins my thought process:

Space is constantly expanding. Time is in the midst of the here and now, everywhere where the shockwave from the “Big Bang” has not touched,  is accompanied by sheer nothingness; therefore, what is that “emptiness” then? What does that “void” consist of? As a child, I always thought that maybe that specific barren space is where Heaven lied. Somewhere beyond the stars. Like a white empty void similar to an empty business office running forever into the distance.

Growing up, I then started to imagine about other “life” besides ourselves. I have to believe there are other planets, such as those seen in science fiction movies and novels existing out in the vast frontier we still have yet to navigate through. Would other races of people look exactly like us or have mutant-like adaptations? After years of simply daydreaming of something more, I concurred that these “other” people would have distinct characteristics of their own and would posses certain attributes for their survival…much like ourselves and the creatures here on our planet but extremely different all together. I imagined these people almost “God like”: statuesque physical features, intellect expanding beyond those of the ancients, and the predestined wisdom of the future. Coming from a mildly religious background, I always considered those thoughts to be too radical for a young girl of Catholic faith to be thinking of.

However, my unruly state of mind did not stop there.

I wondered if extraterrestrial beings happened to be real, would the belief in a god play a role in their society, if they did have their own form of religion? Would other beings that were created by some “force” or “energy” completely rule out and disprove our concept of religion and a god all together?

Without religion, society would unfold therefore making our reality a living chaos. In some ways; however, can our religion be easily substituted with fact?

Maybe it was God who inflicted the “Big Bang” and therefore will withdraw our universe back into its beginning stages of emptiness when all is done expanding. When all matter and energy finally relinquishes its purpose, could the Bible easily define that as our “apocalypse”?

These inquiries can go through an excruciating strain especially if faith is being questioned; although, if both ideas where to melt together in such a way…maybe then religion may not be so implausible and unusual then factual science learned in modern, present day.

The concept of this undivided wonder and imagination can bring up puzzling topics such as human nature, love and all its uncertainty, and the subtle obscurities that haunt us in the back of our mind. The ambiguous universe we learn to flourish in is only the tip of the iceberg…

"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.



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.

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.

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