A path for the creation

The distractions become all consuming
I leave one only to have another take over
In an even bigger way!
The creator needs focus.
Clear the clutter.
Create order.
What's the next right thing to do?
Good orderly direction is God.
God is the path of the creator.
Learn to appreciate the creation.
Become a vessel.
A vessel needs to be cleared of all clutter.
Become a vessel.
Become a path for the creation to flow.

The uncatchable

You want to chase what you can't catch
I tell you it's impossible but you still beleive you can
things you can't catch sometimes look do close
you say you have a plan but I don't like this plan
it's going to ruin out stuff, it's going to annoy people
and someone might get hurt
you still have this vision of your plan
you see it clearly
you know you can capture what can't be captured
I explain the scenario
what if you caught the uncatchable?
It's not what it seems
the uncatchable is a dream
it's only true in your mind
if caught the uncatchable screams
life goes haywire when the uncatchable is caged

you can't see this

how am I just like this? In every way.

Sometimes it works

I'm in a dream

Try turning the lights on

Running is never a good thing when you can't see
How many times do I do this?
There's pools of water
Some big some small
Some deep some shallow
Some have jagged edges
I run
The blind don't run
But when I'm blind I run
Sometimes I get lucky
Maybe my intuitions in sync
Mostly I get wet
People die
Usually other people...not me
I see this
I get wet
I'm cold
I don't have dry clothes
Everything suffers

Try turning the lights on

Don't die, try to stay awake

So tired
Trying to stay awake
Just like one of those movies when the guy has to stay awake to live
I thought I was going to die last night
Your entire perspective changes when you're on your death bed
But if you get up from your death bed and walk all bets are off
How much motivation does it take?
Someone said I looked like Jon Lovitz
I obviously have problems but I don't know what to do
I have the kind of problems that no one knows what to do about
Some pretend that they do
I've done that
Sometimes pretending can make you beleive
And believing can make you feel different
It can even be true
But for me it's a lie
I can't come from a lie
I can't run from myself
I can't hide what's true
I ran into a guy I didn't know but I should have
One day I will be that guy if I don't die first

Holding shelf

Head pains
and creep stains
loud nothing comes to me
all that I have to free
eyes grow heavy in the night
falling asleep but still I fight
your not the old self
but I still hold the shelf

We live in the garden

The paradox is my journey
This is what I seek
When I find the paradox I have arrived
My arrival leads to new journeys
This search is why I'm a stoner at heart
A man who can take a trip and see the world as something magical
Stoney is not the talk of the world
Openness is not the attitude of the man who who already knows
The man who is right is the man who has ended his journey
When you end your journey things turn dark
Darkness creeps out in strange ways
The man who knows pays no attention to the signs
I want to experience freedom
I can't stand these bars anymore and the only way I can make them disappear is through the eyes of perception
I traveled into the hills and I found the garden one day but I was too young
I was asked to leave
As I left I saw a beautiful dear with huge antlers
It stared at me
I was frightened
Finally it ran away and I walked by into the land youthful blindness
I'm a journey
I'm going deep this time
It's universe has no bounds
The garden was torn down by the money man and homes were built
We live in the garden
I just need to awake to my curiosity

I choose...

So far down the rabbit hole I don't know which way is up
Fuck
I'm drifting...coasting...meandering...dozing off...I'm up....am I up?...I'm dreaming again
How long until I let go completely.  Is that where this started?  Can you let go too much?
I'm falling.  I think...I really don't know anymore.  I don't know good from bad right now.
All I see is life.  Birth....death....life
What is the cause?
What is the purpose?
There's not one.
Unless I say there is.
And I say there is nothing.
And there is nothing.
Maybe I need to say something?
So much thought with nothing to say.
So much talk with nothing that means anything to me.
It's my choice and I've chosen to make no choice and now Rush is telling me that I have still made a choice.
I choose...

It's good to have a hero

I think it's important to have a hero.  Someone you look up to, who you respect.  I have a problem respecting people, I guess I'm one of those guys that looks at the flaws and let's them take over my perception of people.  The more I get to know someone the better chance I have at finding and exposing their weaknesses.  What kind of fucked up personality trait is that?  I have problems.

I respect successful people who have followed and listened to their heart.  My heroes today are comics.  Louis CK is greatness.  Their is true greatness happening right now and I get to be around to see it.  It's Louis CK.  This is a guy, with many faults, who has turned those faults around and created something uniquely special.  I look to Louis for honesty and work ethic.

I guess it helps if you don't know the hero you respect.  I'm sure if I was hanging out with Louis I would think he was an asshole.  I would probably start wearing blinders and wouldn't be able to see him for his creative spirit anymore.  I'd probably just see some selfish jerk who eats a lot and doesn't return phone calls.  But the good news is I don't know him so I think he's really cool.

I look to Louis CK for personal growth.  He reminds me to look within myself and trust my instincts.  He encourages me to follow my own path.  He's my hero.  I'm an aspiring comic and filmmaker and I want to be like Louis, I want to make a living performing and making movies that I wrote, starred in and directed myself.  Thanks for clearing the path Louis.

What happened to Duke?

Hi guys, it's your old friend Duke Fightmaster here.  You might be wondering, where the hell has my best friend Duke been?  Well the truth is I haven't exactly been winning at life lately, at least not in the recent past or not so recent or ever.  I think it was woodrow wilson who said success is a man who is willing to be optimistic through failure after failure.  I'm getting pretty good at the failure after failure part, now it's time to add in just a little bit of that optimism.  "You're a winner Duke you can do this." Alright I have a positive attitude I guess I'm back on top.

There was a day in my life when I wanted to be a talk show host, I was gonna replace
Conan O'brien.  Turns out it's not as easy to replace Conan O'brien as it sounds.  I'm sad to report that my talk show, along with that dream, have died, they're dead, they've been killed.  A little bit of me has died along with it.  All because of one man, Jimmy Fallon.  I declare Jimmy Fallen my mortal enemy, mark my words I will never forgive you Jimmy, ever.

Almost three years of my life I devoted everything to my talk show, I had a dream, I had a passion, I followed that passion and put that dream into the universe and the universe said to me "No I don't think so, God doesn't really like you, and neither does anyone else, now get out of here and die, alone."  If you're interested in hearing more the popular NPR radio show This American Life,  hosted by Ira glass did a 20 minute feature on my story chronically the whole journey from beginning to end.  This American Life loves to do stories on people who have ridiculous ideas, people who follow these ideas even though all the visible evidence says "this is a bad idea", people who are basically a little off and it just so happens that they felt I was one of those people, so congratulations to me, I am crazy.  You can hear that story at Dukefightmaster.com, I posted the link there, I'm very proud of it.


So what have I been doing for the last year and a half?  Well besides walking the streets looking for change, I've been doing stand up comedy.  I've been putting an act together. 

Am I alive?

There's no direction
there's no order to the madness
I'm aimless
there's glimpses of visions
but they vanish
I'm aimless
ghosts haunt me and stay
they're uninvited
I'm torn
each direction has bushes
there's no way out
I'm torn
I'm driving with no money
to a place that doesn't want me
I'm searching
I have friends that I hate
I want to leave but their there
I'm searching
time is standing still yet racing
this adds to my confusion
am I alive?
pictures enter and go with no retention
the movie has injured me
am I alive?

Blessed curses bless

Hope that you don't get what you pray for
Pray that you like what you get
Don't live like they tell you
Think what you would do and do the opposite
When it comes and you're staring
look at the problem in the eye
there's now more hiding under your pillow
there's only time to wish you could die
living is hard enough without the skin
under it's a world completely gone
revisit this story monthly
and you can be blessed in song
 

stealing comedy for good

I don't have many opinions that I'm conscious of.  I'm mostly a numb out type of guy.  A don't think type of guy.  A check out from this world type... Okay you get it.

Not having opinions is not a good thing for an aspiring comic.  When you are doing comedy you need to look inside yourself and figure out how you feel about things and then share this info.  I think that's part of it but what the fuck do I know.  Anyways I found that I have an opinion and in the comedy world it might even be a little controversial.

The regulars at the comedy store hate people who steal jokes.  So much so that they gang up on them, make videos of them in a terrible light and generally shun them.  Here is my controversial statement "I don't think stealing jokes is that bad."

I need to clarify.  I think some stealing is bad and I think some stealing is very helpful to the growth of a beginning comic.  This is my line; I think you should never be able to steal from someone who is struggling or below you.  I think you should be able to steal from old rich people, successful comics who no longer use the material, and dead people.  Basically I think you should be able to steal from anyone who doesn't get hurt by it and you should steal from anyone who does get hurt from it.

Why do I think you should be able to steal?  Because beginning comics should be able to take from successful people and their favorite comics in order to learn the craft.  Musicians learn by playing cover songs and likewise I think comics should be able to learn by taking from other comics (Only successful one's who don't use the material anymore).  You learn by copying.

I feel the growth of a promising comic can be sped up if he is able to put a longer act together quicker.  This would lead to more stage time and a quicker growth period to becoming the original comic that is inside of them.  Funny material is important but being funny is the most important.  Lending a new comic an old vehicle to enable him to learn to drive on the road of comedy can be a good thing.

This is my opinion, stealing can be good, as long as you are stealing for good.

comin back

Coming back is not easy
To a place I never wanted to leave
I'm going in that direction
It's what I'm trying to acheive
The tools are in my pocket
That's where they've always been
Left, almost forgotten
As I tangle with the sin
Avoidance is the pleasure
And blindness is the key
Dreaming is the art form
And no one's there to see

It's just me

The mile

Too late for sorry
too soon for time
too young to know
it's all your dime
alone is a price
the cost is a cry
hugs feel better
together we try
I known not to leave
but that's what you say
think you should go
but just want to stay
I hold you to me
and show you a smile
I'll take you to her
we walk through the mile

Tool head

The units created for good or for worse
Sometimes a blessing the second and first
Allways a struggle that wasn't a thought
But now it's blaring, a fight to be fought
The beauty's amazing when viewing the view
The old is forgotten when living the new
Leaving's a notion that never does die
But the bars are embedded ending the lie
life is a moment, and living's a choice
the head is a tool but not the one voice

unawesome spaz

crazy energy
time for spaz
nothing breaks
until hearts collapse
wrong way high
I'm up all night
eyes wide stare
shaky headlight
fear driven ride
and a curve of speed
unsettled luck
an unfulfilled need
crashing with love
accidents welcome
flying to trees
life un awesome

Nothing is clear

It's there but I don't hear
Is it a choice or true?
Running from what's near
The paths are few
Keep feeding the whole
Keep living the past
Ignoring the soul
Grabbing won't last
The long is for trade
The short is for blanks
The game is not played
With bullet proof tanks
Hurt from the out
Avoiding the here
Searching about
Nothing is clear

A little is more

Loose bricks and falling peices
Standing still makes me shake
Crazy in the side of time
No more choices to make
It's something you can't fix
At least not in that direction
You're getting burried right now
No one can lend affection
Don't struggle so much with this
Relax and hold your breath
Time always brings a new life
Even in the final death
It's something new
I don't care for outer thought
It's something that makes sense
Plus it's all I've got
I know I'm grinding hard
There's something with the small
A little light is just enough
Much more than nothing at all

meeting strange

Get messed up
get really bad
empty the cup
focus to mad
miserable yourself
make things worse
knock the shelf
force the curse
walk the dark
leave the light
Seek the arc
meet the night
get real blue
This way out
It's the few 
Leaving doubt
Eyes to pain
comes with change
face the strain
meet the strange

The calm

world cycle blue
The weight that holds
try to step on through
sickness comes in colds
nothing left to wait
the lines are no more
direction cant be straight
useless is the door
strangers are not strange
familiar more than not
trapped with constant change
alone is what you've got
lonely is not alone
the end is coming near
no more to be shown
chasing even fear
It leaves the under calm
it was always there
David sang in psalm
Now I start to stare

Hectic is withdrawal

It takes a lot of sweat
to keep the mind in dream
you lose it when you get
too far from their beam
hectic is withdrawal
when you try to pull away
not what brother saw
it's not a pretty day
friends turn into none
the cost to feel good
a lot turns into one
heading where it should
what's right comes in two
similar is the look
hard is what to do
written is the book
to read you need the light
to light you need the read
for peace you need to fight
for fight you need to feed

I saw I can do it (so I can)

I stepped out of myself
rose above and looked down
there was me and everyone else
I was playing the clown
I knew all the rules and tricks
but I thought that was only them
what comes in slowly sticks
and I saw what was within
it was then that I knew
i had to see it to feel
that it was what I could do
I was part of the deal
sometimes you need to see
yourself doing what you knew
to know that is for me
that's what I can do

I'm a winner (Who makes kids cry)

Some people might call me a loser because I can't support my family or pay my bills.  I just won a game of dodge ball, against a 7 year old, he cried, when I through the ball really hard and it hit him in the face.  I'm a winner.  Unless you're one of those people who thinks that a person who makes kids cry is a loser.  Some people just don't understand that winning is winning.

I don't have a job because I'm not a pussy. One thing I've learned is a mother of your children doesn't really like you to not have a job. Women look at men without jobs the same way a man looks at a woman with no vagina. That's not a good thing.

I'm from a rough neighborhood, Mission Viejo.  I used to go to the other side of the tracks.  Across marguerite.  It's just really hard to be super street wise in a really nice upper class hood.  I'm street.

Searching for shiver

I see it better
Exponentialy getting worse
I write the good letter
but attached is the curse
envisioning great
I live in the middle
it's all just a wait
I've lost at the riddle
touched by the gods
but now they've turned
what once was prods
has left me burned
laughter can heal
but also it kills
a victim to steal
a ride for cheap thrills
clearing the mind
touching the river
when do I find
what makes me shiver?

Waiting

It's purgatory, Hells waiting room
The mode is sleep
Lying dormant, waiting the boom
Stillness runs deep
It's the clock, the speed is slow
Can it be right?
Never late, but this show
Has not a light
It's the head, the machine
Not off but not on
In the seat, No one's seen
Steering the pawn
It's more, above and then
quite beyond
Still waiting, for when
The connecting bond
Appear now, let me live
My eyes half awake
Only pain, do you give
For me to partake
I run, that's not my intent
What I'm made of
My worth, not made in cent
Is the love

High noon numbness

In this game high are the stakes
I walk like nothing as exterior flakes
From the shoulders of knowing
talk that is more glowing
And the furniture can't hold
What's coming or so I'm told
I hear from the past a soft song
it's sings in the distance what's wrong
will I adhere to the warning?
Do I have just till morning?
The day is to be soon
As I face the high noon
a battle of the soldier
who only grows older
can wisdom finally be held?
Is it a noise that's yelled?
Is there room for the space?
To empty is the race
once again it is full
with a comfortable stool
but approaches is dawn
as I stroll through the lawn
the numbness I ride
till I enter inside

A misdirected rose

Rose colored days
water love song
true holds held
endless days long
time spent well
city lights went
country girl's heart
with internal clocks bent
red mostly sad
not like the first
girlfriends friends
feeling I could burst
demensions sang
and my song lasted
nights catch stars
even if fasted
hatred writing ways
and evil devil sparks
cloning to the white
and turning to the parks
children lose your mind
forgetting all that's left
it's real only then
it feels close to theft
she's coming here now
not sure of my direction
keep the hungry fed
and lead with misdirection

Forgetting to give

If nothing was glue I'd be stuck
nothing to do looking for luck
holding to time it's only slipping
relying on rhyme light is my gripping
fog is my view blind is my walk
turning to you hearing your talk
blue turns my face breathing is slow
asking for grace I'm dying to know
knowing is death I'm trying to live
forgetting the breath forgetting to give

Numbing style pace

Dreams inhabit the space unknown
bits of the memory, a time I've flown
jets to the surface volumes of light
stars bright the sky in the darkness of night
left are the hanging and stuff that's a drag
a world that's empty to one with no lag
open the eye the one in the middle
lost is the weight and dropped is the riddle
floating in darkness that's blinding my eyes
lifting the senses exposing the ties
free is this dream but only in space
floating outside of my numbing style pace

More darkness is the want

So much darkness
I want more of it
Soulless souls
My only friends
unfunny funny
smiles for nothing
cut the air
With the rooms tension
My mind is blank
I'm an inner type
it's only job
the one it can't do
skies and grass
smells and taste
Colors and pictures
create nothing
not in this darkness
I want more

Wrist blood bitch

There's a saying that goes something like this, "Not only does water seep it's own level but sewage seeps it's own level too." I like to use this saying for romantic relationships.  In the beginning you're high, it's a drug.  The "Romantic stage."  Everyone love's that part but it's when the honeymoon's over that you realize you have issues you never knew existed.  You found out about these issues because she brought them to the surface.  She brought them to the surface because the same issues were inside of her.

Have you ever seen a nice girl with some dirt bag guy?  You ask yourself, "What's a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like that?"  I'll tell you what she's doing, she's fucked up.

My wife had an ex boyfriend who slit his wrists after she broke up with him.  He did it the long ways too, not the across the wrist.  Then he wrote bitch in blood on the wall above her bed.

This disturbs me.  I'm just not sure I could ever love her that much, not enough to slit my wrists.