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17 November 2009 @ 01:30 pm
16 November 2009 @ 10:07 pm
Is there not such mystery
in the journey
as we walk in laughter and
taste the tears
of the perplexity
and existential questions that visit
amidst that which is held most dear?
in the journey
as we walk in laughter and
taste the tears
of the perplexity
and existential questions that visit
amidst that which is held most dear?
16 November 2009 @ 09:10 pm
everyone has their demons
and my, they are no friends of mine.
keeping me up while i try to sleep
sitting on my chest while i lay screaming.
I push the darkness away,
but he still lurks
waiting for a weak spot,
he is my curse.
I hate this fellow, who has no name
or at least i pray never to know.
He is the lord valdamort to my harry potter.
'cept I dont have magic, so i will soon be a goner.
where is my angel when i need her the most?
of her pressence i can not boast
I need a way out, a way to freedom
I'm imprisioned in my dreams, cornered without a reason
I need to find a way out, out of this terror.
to rid myself of this demon
who is no friend of mine
and my, they are no friends of mine.
keeping me up while i try to sleep
sitting on my chest while i lay screaming.
I push the darkness away,
but he still lurks
waiting for a weak spot,
he is my curse.
I hate this fellow, who has no name
or at least i pray never to know.
He is the lord valdamort to my harry potter.
'cept I dont have magic, so i will soon be a goner.
where is my angel when i need her the most?
of her pressence i can not boast
I need a way out, a way to freedom
I'm imprisioned in my dreams, cornered without a reason
I need to find a way out, out of this terror.
to rid myself of this demon
who is no friend of mine
16 November 2009 @ 09:01 pm
- 09:06 Definitely just got my first bad grade of the semester on my test this morning...damnit :( #
- 16:02 An idea is only relevant if it's being thought upon. #
- 18:00 Oh don't be ridiculous. You were abducted, of course you need crepes. #
17 November 2009 @ 03:10 am
In the eyes of the universe we are
but insignificant organisms not unlike
those we call our germs and mites and
bacteria. What is sentience if God
is actually like man who kills
millions of them
unintentionally everyday?
but insignificant organisms not unlike
those we call our germs and mites and
bacteria. What is sentience if God
is actually like man who kills
millions of them
unintentionally everyday?
16 November 2009 @ 09:45 am
The wind is silent
The moon is still
My heartbeat lingers
In the cold night air
Passion is driven
To the point of no return
The electrifying touch
Of our lips is unbearable
Our hearts blend together
In a potion of love
I surround you with my embrace
Pulling you closer
So that I may set into your skin
A touch, a kiss
A heartbeat
16 November 2009 @ 09:35 am
Alone
Abandoned
Frozen to the point of silence
Shocked by realization
Lost in wonder
Time fades away
Shadows pass by on the wall
Enclosed
Dreams destroyed by doubt
No hope
No Faith
No wonder
16 November 2009 @ 09:29 am
Unfortunately, the world will never see
That we should be
That I’m a part of you
And you’re a part of me
Our love is deeper
Than all of the oceans and seas
It’s not fair to us
And everyone like us
But yet these are the people
That I’m supposed to trust?
Why can’t people realize
That we are in love
That blacks and whites can represent
The same white dove
But I don’t care
I know I’ll be ok
As long as you’re there
We can change how the world
Sees with their eyes
Eliminate all discrimination
And vicious lies and I wouldn’t be able to do it
With anyone other than you by my side
16 November 2009 @ 03:26 pm
there once was obsession
then along came choice
now the only thing left
is consequence
strong will flourished
through ability
weak heart suffered from
humility
but obsession yielded
a difficult choice
and in the here and now
i still hear my voice:
“just shut up and do
what is expected of you”
oh, wrong choice
i want to go back in time
and unsay both of
these terrible lines.
then along came choice
now the only thing left
is consequence
strong will flourished
through ability
weak heart suffered from
humility
but obsession yielded
a difficult choice
and in the here and now
i still hear my voice:
“just shut up and do
what is expected of you”
oh, wrong choice
i want to go back in time
and unsay both of
these terrible lines.
16 November 2009 @ 10:22 pm
If the Moon could care,
She would not care about us
Kicking and screaming at each other,
Shouting, "Look at me! Be proud of my achievements!"
Begging for mercy, being begged to for mercy,
Racing each other to the top of every ladder imaginable,
Still, she would not care about us.
For she has seen, generations one after another,
Attention-seekers of all sorts,
Proudly proclaiming their stories of glories,
Or fighting over whose God is better,
And what does it matter to her
When, after they have quietened down,
And found peace in Earth's eternal embrace -
as Earth reassures them, "I forgive you.
For all the pain you have caused me,
You still deserve a proper burial." -
Another new generation of attention-seekers reborn,
Who think that this time around,
They will be the ones who will make history.
Still, she would not care.
She would not care about us
Kicking and screaming at each other,
Shouting, "Look at me! Be proud of my achievements!"
Begging for mercy, being begged to for mercy,
Racing each other to the top of every ladder imaginable,
Still, she would not care about us.
For she has seen, generations one after another,
Attention-seekers of all sorts,
Proudly proclaiming their stories of glories,
Or fighting over whose God is better,
And what does it matter to her
When, after they have quietened down,
And found peace in Earth's eternal embrace -
as Earth reassures them, "I forgive you.
For all the pain you have caused me,
You still deserve a proper burial." -
Another new generation of attention-seekers reborn,
Who think that this time around,
They will be the ones who will make history.
Still, she would not care.
16 November 2009 @ 09:20 am
1000 miles
1000 miles more to go
Blisters on my feet
From the freezing cold
Rain hard as rocks
Blinded by the white snow
Shivers swallowing my body
Frostbite killing my toes
Wind slashing at my eyes
And tearing at my clothes
Knee caps burning
And the only thing that keeps me going
Is the thought of you
16 November 2009 @ 09:12 am
I wouldn’t mind looking at the countryside after a soft rain
I wouldn’t mind sitting on the porch and watching the sun set
I wouldn’t mind laying in a hammock and watching the stars above
I wouldn’t mind going all the way to Hell and back a couple of times
I wouldn’t mind standing outside your door in the pouring rain
I wouldn’t mind walking a thousand miles everyday for the rest of my life
Because as long as I can see your beautiful face and hold you in my arms, nothing else matters
16 November 2009 @ 09:03 am
In a world
Full of love and passion
I am the disease
Of the heavy-hearted
Where depression
And abandonment prevail
I am the loudest voice
Of all
When friends and family
Are no longer around
I am the only sound of reason
16 November 2009 @ 08:58 am
Anxiety
Mixed with eagerness
Soft touches rest upon skin
Wet kisses from one to another
Intensity rises
Passion collides
With lust
Hearts pounding
Heavy breathing
Thrusting
Grab the sheets
……….
Bliss
16 November 2009 @ 05:17 pm
Why I write
Some poets
can write thrilling meters
or prose with words
that 90% of us (myself included)
can`t pronounce.
And arrange their unpronounceable words
in a way that 99% of us can`t understand.
I read a poem a few nights ago
Talking about the scintillating desire
giving rise to the inky night`s ceaseless passions.
And how the dawn was as diaphanous and vacant
as life in some broad`s absence.
I can`t repeat this. I don`t know what scintillating feels like
I can`t relate to anything diaphanous.
I`m just not that clever.
But what I lack in vocabulary, I make up for in guts.
Not very many poets will call a spade a spade.
Not very many poets will even look at the ugliest spades.
If it had been my poem, it would`ve been much shorter.
It would`ve said. `We fucked, you left. Guess it`s time for a drink.`
Some poets
can write thrilling meters
or prose with words
that 90% of us (myself included)
can`t pronounce.
And arrange their unpronounceable words
in a way that 99% of us can`t understand.
I read a poem a few nights ago
Talking about the scintillating desire
giving rise to the inky night`s ceaseless passions.
And how the dawn was as diaphanous and vacant
as life in some broad`s absence.
I can`t repeat this. I don`t know what scintillating feels like
I can`t relate to anything diaphanous.
I`m just not that clever.
But what I lack in vocabulary, I make up for in guts.
Not very many poets will call a spade a spade.
Not very many poets will even look at the ugliest spades.
If it had been my poem, it would`ve been much shorter.
It would`ve said. `We fucked, you left. Guess it`s time for a drink.`
16 November 2009 @ 01:40 am
The stairs were littered with his dreams
Like leaves
Dancing and colliding
To the body mess at the bottom
Wearing his name tag.
The door upstairs closes,
and the air is full of his last moments.
Like leaves
Dancing and colliding
To the body mess at the bottom
Wearing his name tag.
The door upstairs closes,
and the air is full of his last moments.
16 November 2009 @ 10:21 am
Morning/Mourning
I remember best
how we slept
sometimes after making love
sometimes not
(only when I, or you, or both were too drunk)
The way your body stretched
small but radiant
and your freezing feet
stinging my back or my stomach
never made me complain.
Someone had to warm them
might as well have been me.
The image is a sharp contrast
to the sprawled gangly girl
laying next to me now
with the same cold feet
that bother me very much.
I wonder if she realizes
that she`s only sleeping
in the shadow of you
and with the shadow of me.
The Mag
I knew my generation was hopeless
when a girl I know
called a fashion mag her bible.
At first I was distressed
then I realized
the two are probably
more alike than I thought.
At least
the quality of writing is about the same.
( a few more behind the cut )
I remember best
how we slept
sometimes after making love
sometimes not
(only when I, or you, or both were too drunk)
The way your body stretched
small but radiant
and your freezing feet
stinging my back or my stomach
never made me complain.
Someone had to warm them
might as well have been me.
The image is a sharp contrast
to the sprawled gangly girl
laying next to me now
with the same cold feet
that bother me very much.
I wonder if she realizes
that she`s only sleeping
in the shadow of you
and with the shadow of me.
The Mag
I knew my generation was hopeless
when a girl I know
called a fashion mag her bible.
At first I was distressed
then I realized
the two are probably
more alike than I thought.
At least
the quality of writing is about the same.
( a few more behind the cut )
15 November 2009 @ 01:30 pm
I step outside on a blistery day
Leaves are blowing every which way
They are like my skin: crackly and dry
It turns ashier as gusts past by
I lift my arms and my coat sides become sails
The fabric echoes the wind's wails
Stronger; Powerful enough to carry me
Along the pavement as if on sea
I sail past the trees swaying side to side
Wanting to uproot and envious of my ride
Keep going! Farther! More!
But the wind decides to rest and pull me ashore
Back inside.."How was your walk?"
"Fine, mom." end of the talk
I don't want to let her know
That I sailed by the wind's blow
Leaves are blowing every which way
They are like my skin: crackly and dry
It turns ashier as gusts past by
I lift my arms and my coat sides become sails
The fabric echoes the wind's wails
Stronger; Powerful enough to carry me
Along the pavement as if on sea
I sail past the trees swaying side to side
Wanting to uproot and envious of my ride
Keep going! Farther! More!
But the wind decides to rest and pull me ashore
Back inside.."How was your walk?"
"Fine, mom." end of the talk
I don't want to let her know
That I sailed by the wind's blow
Current Mood: 
lazy
lazy15 November 2009 @ 08:38 am
The days
the bombs
dropped
I was sitting at home
eating cereal,
as
the TV flashed brightly
'Bombing of Baghdad'
The cities I
would
never
see
Flashed bright green and white
as they exploded
This is how You died
On TV
with people crowing delight
----
There is a snake
sitting on
my leg
The sly little bastard
just showed up
We were Jive Talking
but it lost its tongue
I won't say a thing
Just
slide Mr. Tom off my leg
he isn't so interesting
anymore
----
I'm allergic!
Her stick arms
wrap around my waist
I'm allergic! I'm allergic!
Torn are her memories
I'm
not sure where she came from
Sit down!
Okay alright.
Slick autopilot
I speak your language
Stick arms suffocate.
Stand up!
Sit down!
Where did you come from?
My feet are on fire
they're eating the floor
Wear a bandana!
Just hold it in your teeth
She's scratching that itch - flea ridden
Forget her face for the moment -
I'll ride
the back
of Jack Daniels
Damn near drowned
the bombs
dropped
I was sitting at home
eating cereal,
as
the TV flashed brightly
'Bombing of Baghdad'
The cities I
would
never
see
Flashed bright green and white
as they exploded
This is how You died
On TV
with people crowing delight
----
There is a snake
sitting on
my leg
The sly little bastard
just showed up
We were Jive Talking
but it lost its tongue
I won't say a thing
Just
slide Mr. Tom off my leg
he isn't so interesting
anymore
----
I'm allergic!
Her stick arms
wrap around my waist
I'm allergic! I'm allergic!
Torn are her memories
I'm
not sure where she came from
Sit down!
Okay alright.
Slick autopilot
I speak your language
Stick arms suffocate.
Stand up!
Sit down!
Where did you come from?
My feet are on fire
they're eating the floor
Wear a bandana!
Just hold it in your teeth
She's scratching that itch - flea ridden
Forget her face for the moment -
I'll ride
the back
of Jack Daniels
Damn near drowned
14 November 2009 @ 09:45 pm
I am so deeply tender just now
so deeply tender
as I reflected this morn
perhaps I have daffodils
growing in my heart
so deeply tender
as I reflected this morn
perhaps I have daffodils
growing in my heart