Wednesday, December 7, 2005
Turned back towards the sun
--Not a haiku, but of that sort of thing. A winding twisting path, I took the wrong turn, The sweetest mistake I ever made. Pink and red late sunset Shadowed neighborhood, I saw the deepest eyes I ever. Turned back towards the sun, Found my way again, Most bitter success I ever won.
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Monday, December 5, 2005
Discord.
I remember a fever dream I once had. Dreams are never accurate reproductions of reality, rather a sequence of more or less disjointed concepts which the mind then tries to smoothe out into a semblance of sense; the rational mind is dormant, and doesn't question it. You can look at your watch twice and get two radically different readings, but not wonder why. In the fever dream, things make less sense even. As brain cells struggle to stay alive under the increasing heat, raw feelings and...
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Sunday, December 4, 2005
Another repost
Why is it that something has to be fresh for anyone to click on it? It's not like you've seen all the stuff in this blog anyway. Have you? *accusing look* With edits and additions. Because I love to fiddle around. So they warn me, as the greater height to which I fly, the farther I will fall. And I see myself the pave is ready littered with shattered dreams. But I say I've had enough of holding back my heart; Love and reason are fire and stone; life and flesh; well split and not the same. Words...
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Monday, November 21, 2005
The cigarette end
A cigarette end lies there. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. I walked past this morning. Still there. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. It rained last night. A little wet ash bleeds onto the street. Sun up, sun down. Moon up, moon down. I pass it every day. A little speck and its shadow. Nothing ever changes. No one ever notices. Why do I care? It’s just a little speck and its shadow. Rest in peace.
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Saturday, November 19, 2005
REPOST
Such passion! When my and my girl broke up I wrote this. God bless you Quirky. Now to cash in --------------- I came across a pretty doll, hidden behind the others She looked so sad lying there Not like any other. I took her home and dressed her up I hoped to call her lover My pretty doll with long brown hair Not like any other. Poor little, fickle doll, lying on the shelf If love is such a great thing, why don't you love yourself? Then one day it had to end I knew it had to anyway Well, so much...
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Wednesday, October 12, 2005
I don’t know.
Poetry is stupid. Just a load of pretentions. Why am I writing this? I don’t know. Am I good or am I bad? What is good and what is bad? Why do I need to know? Why don’t I know? I don’t know. Who am I? I ask the sky; Don’t you know? Who am I? I ask the sea; Don’t you know? I don’t know. I feel like I could walk through walls. I am made of nothing. “Nothing’s something,” something says. I’m not. Am I? I don’t know.... One day I saw you. Did you see me? Can your arms make me solid again? Please...
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Monday, October 10, 2005
I Will Not Fight Amore
I'm no longer embarrassed by my own poetry... So I thought I'd repost this to see if I'd get some comments this time now that I'm sort of popular. So they warn me, as the greater height to which I fly, the farther I will fall. And I see myself the pave is ready littered with shattered dreams. But I say I've had enough of holding back my heart; Love and reason are fire and stone; life and flesh; well split and not the same. Words of wisdom fall by now And melt upon the ground. To win or ruin I...
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Saturday, September 10, 2005
Prison.
You live and learn. The school of hard knocks. What does not kill you makes you stronger. I have read these phrases so many times in the books sent to my cell that I truly know the meaning of cliché. How often is it that the character's mentor gives a speech with these words - how a mistake is not a mistake but a lesson? Well I've had my lesson. Oh I've had it a thousand times, it kills me anew every day. But what can I say? "I've learnt my lesson, can I go now?"...But they do not forgive. They...
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Monday, September 5, 2005
Chocolate.
The taste of rich, bitter chocolate still lingers in your mouth. Your eyes rest on the remaining bar, lustful, but you know you have had enough. Still... You know anymore will make you feel sick. You know anymore would be too fattening. You know anymore would mean less tomorrow. Still... If you eat it, you will prove yourself weak. Pathetic. Worthless. Spineless. Still... The chocolate bats down each of your arguments in turn by its simple being there. There is nothing that can beat the logic of...
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Monday, August 1, 2005
Ronald's Stall
---I just thought, write anything, don't waste time waiting for some great inspiration to dump a novel on your lap. And somehow, starting from absolutely nothing, I got a little story I'm quite pleased with. I dunno though - some outsider's perspective would be great... make my ears burn!--- The town square shone golden as the flare of the sun lit up the road’s - normally dull - yellow bricks, framed today with vibrant orange chrysanthemums, yellow sunflowers, red roses and tomatoes and...
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