Julian Caballero

Archive for November, 2009|Monthly archive page


In Uncategorized on November 27, 2009 at 9:00 am


I have seen theses keys before

These black and white keys that my fingers meet

Ohh so often and ohh so desperately.

They have left a trail across the earth

Behind me as I pass through places and thoughts and

People and the very light of very light.

I am weak with them and more with out them

I find other things though to touch then these keys

I am not confined to expressing my self

In letters. I can touch metal strings or  pieces of wood

Fallen from trees and left to die.

But my fingers need these lettered arrangement of keys at times.

I never know when the need will arise it simply arises

and I can do no other then allow them their seemingly deranged movement.

It is frightening to me what this deranged movement might provide me with

And in turn the world. Do I sensor these flailing touchings? Do I

Submit them to some kind of sieve? Do these fallings, which I feel so much

A necessary occurrence, be kept in the dark?

Or do I suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?

But to oppose them what a sea of trouble will come.

When we have shuffled off these mortal problems

And stand openly naked, serenely asleep

Ohh what dreams may come!

A sleep, a sleep,

a sleep for my kingdom of electrical impulses flashing from my fingers

and into the circuits that deliberate all human knowledge and experience,

that meaningless compilation of humanity, that accessible metallic heart

suggesting “Did you mean: Atheist” when all you want to know is

what to call someone who believes in God.

What a senseless thing to do, to contribute to the compendium

of all human knowledge.

Who wants all this knowledge?

And once it is acquired what will be lost?

Will I have to give up my soul to it?

The great “It” who took away the farmers lands and gave him a factory job.

The great “It” that guaranteed our children a better life and the great “It” that took them away. The great “It” will promise us eternal life someday but I will choose death.

The day will come when there will be no logical necessity to die.

And yet I will die, me and my barbarity.

In that day the History books will talk about the end of old age and death

and it will be the final proof that God is a liar and that the Serpent

told us the truth, “You will surely not die.”

And in the face of this I will choose death. I will choose the dirty end of life,

I will choose purpose, I will choose meaning, I will choose to believe.


Just a thought…

In Uncategorized on November 14, 2009 at 9:05 am



Although it might be an exaggeration or maybe even a lie, I feel comfortable saying that I have spent my life seeking happiness. I say it is an exaggeration or a lie because my life is so utterly confusing to me that what ever I say that I have spent my life doing I would most likely be wrong. But although that might be the case I feel like it is safe to say that I am for the most part a selfish person and it makes sense that a selfish person would seek it’s own happiness first and foremost. But I face a problem now which I had never fully understood before; for I feel like I have almost entirely left behind all of that which was taught to me for the sake of this happiness. And the problem is that my happiness might not be what I should be seeking. In my search for beauty I found beauty, in my search for love I found love, in my search for freedom I found freedom, in my search for life I found life, in my search for meaning I found meaning, in my search for truth I found truth; but alas all that is good and whole in the world is not enough. My life is one which requires me to be a part of corruption. My life requires me to be angry. My life requires me to be ugly and mean. My life requires me to be a murderer, a liar, a thief, a coveter, an idol worshipper, a breaker of the covenant. But I take no joy in that which I am forced to do. I take no joy in drinking this bitter cup overflowing with hatred and destruction. But just as Abraham would have killed his son I am willing to destroy my purity, my imagination, my beauty, my dreams, my love, my eyes, and even my own heart; because this life is not about my happiness. And lo! I do not know what it is about. But just as the Father received his prodigal son I will receive my unhealthy family. Just as David accepted the truth of his wickedness I will receive my corrupt government. Just as Christ received the cross I will receive my death. Although everything inside me tells me to reject all evil I will not. My life is my own and I will accept peace and war. I will accept health and sickness. I will accept good and evil. But I will still scorn evil wherever I see it. I will still despise sickness in this life. I will still hate death with every fiber of my being. And I will still continue to be the keeper of peace. I will seek kindness. I will seek forgiveness. I will seek communion. I will seek fellowship. I will seek goodness and mercy. I will protect the widows and the orphans. But I will be a failure, for I will be but a man. And what this world needs is more then a man. What I need is more then a man. But is anyone willing to know what it is we need? Is there anyone left who cares? Am I willing? Once we give it a name there is no turning back. Once we represent God to ourselves we cannot destroy it, for it is completely infinite, and we only partially. One can easily create an Objective God and once we have grown weary of him we can unchain ourselves from that Sun. But what of the Subjective God? Once we give up our happiness the only way to return it to its position, as God, would be certain death, a death where no worm can get you; which is the worst death of all for it is neither death nor life, it is between life and death or rather behind them in some other dimension where space and time bear down upon you at once but it is not at once; it is something our language cannot describe and the closest I can come would be to mention the name Judas Iscariot and nothing more could be said, it could only be felt. Some things can only be understood by feeling them, like a kiss. And what then of happiness in this epic description of life and death? I have sought it out only to discover that it isn’t what I want but then realized it is all I get. The God I represent to myself has a sense of humor, or maybe I am just projecting?

My Abstract Death

In Uncategorized on November 13, 2009 at 8:57 am

As I sit here trying to figure out what I want to say I am grasping for a place to begin. Do I begin by relaying an experience I have had, and then explain how that experience contains some truth? Or do I begin with explaining an abstract idea and then demonstrate how that idea is true to life? Do I begin by talking about presuppositions? Do I begin by talking about Faith? Where do I begin and where will I end? Somehow these specifics elude me, it all seems like nonsense raging chaotically, atoms and the void. A person who doesn’t know me might not understand what I am saying or describing; many, if not all of you, might not understand what I am saying either. But here I find myself in what appears emotionally to be chaos and I am straining to be known and unknown, true and false, interesting and boring, honest and dishonest, optimistic and pessimistic, realistic and idealistic, and it seems, at times, like the only escape from all of this strain is that which awaits all men. It is ironic (and worth consideration) that what is the most certain, is yet the most unknown of all human experiences. It is painfully obvious that Death is known to be certain; I am not foolish enough to believe I will be the first man to live forever. I cannot elude death, and a life seeking to elude death would be foolish, I read Gilgamesh. So where do I begin? And how do I want to meet my death? Some of you must be thinking that it’s funny or odd for me to be talking about Death, but in my immature grasping for a place to begin, the inescapability of death seems like a good place to start. But don’t worry I will not demonstrate the existence of God from it. I merely wanted to show you how far my map (that which I have created for myself to explain my existence) stretches and maybe appeal to the idea that Death is a good place to begin because it has given me a lot of room to draw. Of course though, to some, it may seem meaningless or idiotic to draw on such a map (I have been accused of this often) but the beauty of my map is beginning to overflow the border of Death and I think it may be time to extend the borders. But before I set a new border I must acknowledge, ironically of course, that Death has been good to me.