Poetry & Art – The Climb



The Losers by Ryan Fu



The Losers

Get a real job!



leave them alone

you assholes!

You guys are scumbags. 

I don’t know how many times

I hear it in a day

before I start to believe

it’s my name.

 But I get it

this is nation of winners

we love our false heroes. 

We put our idols high in the sky

until they fall

then we all become Chicken Little. 

We discard those

who don’t meet our expectations

then turn our backs on them

like they were bastard children.

History gets written

by the victors

as the losers

fade away in the narrative.

The forgotten ones

still on the battlefield

condemned forever 

 to remember their failures.

Why is there even

a second place?

It’s first



because we all want to be loved.




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Wisdom Wednesdays – Enjoy the Journey



Poetry & Art – Collateral Damages


The Truth Hurts – Come as you are



Money on my Mind (Business Philosophy) – Is It Your Fault You’re Poor? By Russell Brand


Poetry & Art – Transformation



Honesty is such a lonely word by My Random Musings (BLW Contributor)




We all talk about how honest we are and how we want people to be honest with us, but in reality it somehow comes down to honesty is not always the best policy.

People constantly question others about why you hurt them or why you are hurt and then you tell them the truth as you see it, but most often that does not go down the right way, because they could not handle the truth. I am no exception to that rule, I like to think that I am absolutely honest and speak my mind (let’s not ask my ex boy friend for confirmation of that) but the truth is I know despite how I look at myself, I tend to stretch the truth sometimes to spare someone the hurt or pain.

Let me digress for a few with background story –  a few days ago a friend who constantly flakes on me did it again, despite assurances after my having told her I don’t spend time with her because of that. Fast forward a few months, she does it again. This time I decide I am done with my friendship and it’s time to sever ties. However she sends me a text asking me if I was upset with her and I replied telling her the truth, which was, that I am frustrated with the constant back and forth with plans and I dislike it. I like to make plans and stick to it. It turns out she did not like my honesty that she did what I believe is what most teenagers probably do, she unfriended me on Facebook.

Fortunately for me, my life does not revolve around FB or the number of friends I have. I use it just to post my photographs and a way to keep in touch with a few friends, therefore it did not bother me. No, let me rephrase that, her un-friending me did not bother me, but her childish behavior of not talking about it bothered me. I believe she did it because she could not handle the truth of what I told her.

I am not trying to get on a pedestal of honesty or morality, because I understand we all have our moments of weakness and make promises we sometimes can’t keep and I have no doubt there are times I have over promised and under-delivered. But for the most part I try not to be that person. I try to do my best to be honest and open, because I have learnt that one lie spirals out of control and it becomes such a big lie that we have dug a hole so deep, we cannot climb out of it.

Well getting back to where I was, I am probably no better than anyone else about handling the truth. Recently someone called me high-strung and I was aghast at that thought and refused to believe it. (In my defense I am not high-strung) If he called me impatient, strong-headed, stubborn, I would have whole heartedly agreed with him.  I don’t know why, somehow high-strung has a negative connotation to it and I had to actually ask a few of my close friends if they agree with this statement.

Fortunately for them or me, they all disagreed with that sentiment, they claim that I am easy-going, but sometimes too energetic,  and that someone who does not know me could construe that as high-strung.  However, they all agreed that when it came to food,  that I could be a tad bit  OCD and obsessive about wanting things to be perfect. It probably is never perfect, but at least I know it is not for the lack of trying on my part.

I constantly claim that I want to hear the truth, but someone tells me the truth as he see’s it and I refuse to accept that it is his idea of the truth about me. While being called high-strung upset me, what upset me more as days went by was that I could not graciously accept his opinion and would have preferred if he had not been honest about his opinion.

We all claim we want to know the truth and that we tell the truth, but somehow most often truth gets soft peddled if the truth involves hurting someone’s feelings. So I ask, is honesty the best policy or do we need to be a bit dishonest to avoid hurting people we care for ?


Weekend Inspiration – I am Awesome (Repeat it to Yourself)


Do what you gotta do by Ryan Fu (The Hated Ones)


Ocean Life_Oceans Mix_Electric Jellyfish

I take a look over the starboard side as we pull into port seeing these ghost-like fish in the water.

“Hey bro, what are those?”


“They look cute.” 

“Sure, if you like kissing a thousand tasers?”


“They can kill you in seconds.”

“There’s not many out here right?”

“Oh no, they’re everywhere over here but there are more sharks but it’s cool they’re the least of your concerns.”

Wondering what else could be least of my concerns with deadly ghost-like fishes swimming all around me, I step onto the quarterdeck with the heat hitting me all at once, which I finally knew what he was talking about. Fuck it was hot. No wonder Jesus died over her.

“Hey bro, is it usually this fucking hot?” 

“Nah, it’s pretty cool today.”

“I guess they were right in bootcamp that was like Hell over here.”

“What? That was bullshit, it barely goes over 130 degrees over here on a good day. Have a nice day and enjoy the pizza.”

I salute him getting off the boat, trying to figure out what the fuck he was talking about but the closer I got to the ground the hotter it got. It was way hotter on land as could feel the heat bouncing back off the concrete. I was already pouring sweat and I haven’t got into any combat yet. Of course, my natural response to suffering is to get blacked out drunk. I ask a raghead where I could get a drink and he points me out to the Beer Hut as he stares at me like he wanted to kill me. Which I could feel the hate while was walking around on base with the natives checking me out wondering how to kill me without alarming any bells.

I enter this pathetic excuse of fun and recreation going to straight for the alcohol. I double fists two tall boys and down the medicine in my head right away. It tasted like a mixture of dog piss and sweat. So, I decided maybe should grab some pizza to go this epic beverage. It looked like a normal pizza but there was something different but not in a good way about this meal. As I was eating it both my mouth and brain was simultaneous telling me that something was not right. As I try to swallow and figure out this enigma someone quietly tells me, “its goat meat.”

“What?” With my mouth full which apparently was full of goat meat.

“It’s goat meat, that’s why it tastes kinda weird but you’ll get used it. Hopefully, you get that bacteria like this guy did last week and died.” 

Then it hit me. Everything about this place is meant to kill you.

The sharks,

the jellyfishes,

the heat 


the people all want to kill you including the goats.

Life lesson number three: What doesn’t kill you, makes you stranger.

I throw up the goat meat as he introduces himself, “My name is Skuba I’m from Long Beach. How many times have you’ve masterbated today. I think I jerked it five times today, wait, I just came right now. Anyways sometimes I use my left hand if want something new and mysterious, you know what I’m talking about?” Skuba tells me this with no expressions on his face. He seemed like a normal white dude that kinda looked a skinhead with a shaved head but there was nothing normal about this dude. He had all the qualities of a human being but he definitely was missing a chromosome or two. I tell him it was great meeting him excusing myself, thinking what the fuck was that about. Walking back to my barracks, which it was around dusk and it was still hot as fuck. No wonder everyone was such in a bad mood around here as I could hear mortars and gunshots close by with men’s voices shouting in the distance. Fuck I realized, I’m actually in Hell. I decided to call back home to check in with the folks before I hit the rack.

“Hey, dad.”

“How is it out there?” 

“Super. Everything is great!”

All fathers can tell when their own flesh and blood is lying to them.

“Just take care of yourself and look out for you.”

“I hear you dad.”

“Your mother and I are very proud of you.”

This was more puzzling to hear this than the goat pizza because I was such a hellrazer growing up, causing such pain for my parents. I guess my parents were starting to respect me for being out here as human body bag.

“Thanks dad.”

“Just come home to us. Do what you gotta do.”

(Life lesson number four)

“Will do.” Click.




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