Monday, May 31, 2010
there's something unsettling in the serenity of this song
A bubbling stream,
Now silky-smooth ice,
While pretty to observe
Is too cold to entice,
Shimmering morning mist
Clings to each blade of grass,
Throwing rainbows in the dawn sun,
But it’s all a farce,
And sadly, we know it won’t last.
Because the world as we know it
Is changing all too fast.
For now, the breeze carries
Some dandelion seeds,
They dance in the breeze,
And settle amongst some autumn leaves,
Mostly gold, it looks like heaven,
But once again, we both know better,
Too soon, the rain will spoil this natural work of art,
Those golden leaves will rot,
To make way for the biting frost
That devours the daisies that once grew in
‘delicious bits’ all along this garden path,
So for now I’ll lock away the key
To my heart.
Now silky-smooth ice,
While pretty to observe
Is too cold to entice,
Shimmering morning mist
Clings to each blade of grass,
Throwing rainbows in the dawn sun,
But it’s all a farce,
And sadly, we know it won’t last.
Because the world as we know it
Is changing all too fast.
For now, the breeze carries
Some dandelion seeds,
They dance in the breeze,
And settle amongst some autumn leaves,
Mostly gold, it looks like heaven,
But once again, we both know better,
Too soon, the rain will spoil this natural work of art,
Those golden leaves will rot,
To make way for the biting frost
That devours the daisies that once grew in
‘delicious bits’ all along this garden path,
So for now I’ll lock away the key
To my heart.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
"something with bite"?
Rusty nails, broken toes
How does your little garden grow?
I planted some thistles, to pierce your feet,
Because when I picked roses, the thorns tore my heart.
And they smelled far too sweet, sickeningly so,
Now my garden has overgrown, it’s a maze.
I hope you get lost, never find your way home.
In time, a permanent fog will prevail,
And I will laugh, bitterness flooding,
I’ll lend you a scarf, if you intend to beg.
How does your little garden grow?
I planted some thistles, to pierce your feet,
Because when I picked roses, the thorns tore my heart.
And they smelled far too sweet, sickeningly so,
Now my garden has overgrown, it’s a maze.
I hope you get lost, never find your way home.
In time, a permanent fog will prevail,
And I will laugh, bitterness flooding,
I’ll lend you a scarf, if you intend to beg.
brunch, and bitterness
Cheap.
An acid-green gargoyle, discolored with age, red-stone eyes.
They glare, accusatory, judging.
The smoothed stone is cold beneath my legs,
Hard and unwelcoming, almost rejecting.
They always assume too much based on too little.
I ordered a short stack with a 2-for-1 coupon,
And drowned my heart in too much maple syrup.
Yet, they were still rather dry, in the middle. Some things,
I will never understand, until one day when they don’t
Matter so much anymore…
Warm tears, they pool, then they’re gone.
“Such is the strangeness of the human heart”
but, i'm better than that.
An acid-green gargoyle, discolored with age, red-stone eyes.
They glare, accusatory, judging.
The smoothed stone is cold beneath my legs,
Hard and unwelcoming, almost rejecting.
They always assume too much based on too little.
I ordered a short stack with a 2-for-1 coupon,
And drowned my heart in too much maple syrup.
Yet, they were still rather dry, in the middle. Some things,
I will never understand, until one day when they don’t
Matter so much anymore…
Warm tears, they pool, then they’re gone.
“Such is the strangeness of the human heart”
but, i'm better than that.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
staring me right in the face...
looking back,
reminiscing,
clicking through various photo albums,
"a picture says a thousand words"
hundreds of pictures, millions of words...
memories...
some sweet, some sour, some ripened with age.
some seem so long ago, and yet they're not, really.
time is a funny thing. so deceitful, always in the background,
hiding? perhaps. or maybe just following quietly,
ready to spring to the fore when needed most.
tonight, looking back, reflecting, i wondered at one point, why?
why now, of all moments, have these memories decided
to flash back into my concious thought?
perhaps time is wise, it knows when we're ready
to view such memories the way they ought to be viewed.
happy, no longer bittersweet, now i can smile, instead of lapsing
into near-tears...
it was a good night, and the stars, those beautiful stars,
were witness to it all, a perfect backdrop to the wonderfully unexpected.
no regrets, why should i have any?
i wished for that night, envisioned it so many times, varied, in my mind,
the stars granted me that one wish,
when i very least expected....
now, isn't that the best thing of all?
reminiscing,
clicking through various photo albums,
"a picture says a thousand words"
hundreds of pictures, millions of words...
memories...
some sweet, some sour, some ripened with age.
some seem so long ago, and yet they're not, really.
time is a funny thing. so deceitful, always in the background,
hiding? perhaps. or maybe just following quietly,
ready to spring to the fore when needed most.
tonight, looking back, reflecting, i wondered at one point, why?
why now, of all moments, have these memories decided
to flash back into my concious thought?
perhaps time is wise, it knows when we're ready
to view such memories the way they ought to be viewed.
happy, no longer bittersweet, now i can smile, instead of lapsing
into near-tears...
it was a good night, and the stars, those beautiful stars,
were witness to it all, a perfect backdrop to the wonderfully unexpected.
no regrets, why should i have any?
i wished for that night, envisioned it so many times, varied, in my mind,
the stars granted me that one wish,
when i very least expected....
now, isn't that the best thing of all?
I like you.
a tower of orange books, hundreds of them,
leaning in the breeze, leaning towards me,
i try to climb it, to reach the sun but then those books
topple down, collapse and i'm sliding down a cascade
of silver coins. flailing, desperate, i'm in mid-air,
than suddenly sailing, floating, incomprehensible.
it's not making sense, i know. but there are not words
that i can find in the hoard to describe this feeling.
this longing, for something, i can't even put a name to it.
i'm content and at the same time, i want something else.
not something instead of what i have, but something as well as what i have now.
is that selfish?
i don't know.
all i can do is wait, and see what the tide washes up.
leaning in the breeze, leaning towards me,
i try to climb it, to reach the sun but then those books
topple down, collapse and i'm sliding down a cascade
of silver coins. flailing, desperate, i'm in mid-air,
than suddenly sailing, floating, incomprehensible.
it's not making sense, i know. but there are not words
that i can find in the hoard to describe this feeling.
this longing, for something, i can't even put a name to it.
i'm content and at the same time, i want something else.
not something instead of what i have, but something as well as what i have now.
is that selfish?
i don't know.
all i can do is wait, and see what the tide washes up.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Just, listen.
listen,
no one does it anymore.
swimming in a sea of words,
it's all to easy to be drowned out.
louder and LOUDER, they reach a crescendo,
all those voices clamouring to be heard.
fortissimo. the biggest of sounds,
the echo of echoes, it shakes the ground,
rattles windows, pounding bass reverberating in my chest.
the volume with which none can contend.
no one does it anymore.
swimming in a sea of words,
it's all to easy to be drowned out.
louder and LOUDER, they reach a crescendo,
all those voices clamouring to be heard.
fortissimo. the biggest of sounds,
the echo of echoes, it shakes the ground,
rattles windows, pounding bass reverberating in my chest.
the volume with which none can contend.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
with vineleaves in your hair...
"scarfu o kao tsumori des." "scarfu go COW SUMORI DES"
today was simply lovely.
it began with an impromptu japanese lesson, and ended with reading about suicide.
apparently, the act of taking one's life with a pistol is "beautiful"
the in-between parts were good too.
i learned things, i made people laugh.
i'm in the midst of the growth of a beautiful friendship.
yes, i used the word 'beautiful' twice in one post. consider it a reflection of just how happy i am right at this moment. "contented as a cat"
i have a cat. she is mewing now, so i should go and feed her.
"you grow a little, i'll shrink a little. we'll meet each other halfway"
i only wish that someone would reccomend a book for me to read....
'swonderful...'smarvellous...
i'd like to see a musical soon...that would be nice.
today was simply lovely.
it began with an impromptu japanese lesson, and ended with reading about suicide.
apparently, the act of taking one's life with a pistol is "beautiful"
the in-between parts were good too.
i learned things, i made people laugh.
i'm in the midst of the growth of a beautiful friendship.
yes, i used the word 'beautiful' twice in one post. consider it a reflection of just how happy i am right at this moment. "contented as a cat"
i have a cat. she is mewing now, so i should go and feed her.
"you grow a little, i'll shrink a little. we'll meet each other halfway"
i only wish that someone would reccomend a book for me to read....
'swonderful...'smarvellous...
i'd like to see a musical soon...that would be nice.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
four thirty-nine reflection time
his smile is my drug.
those cheerful nods,
those exchanged pleasantries,
those night-time conversations
about essentially nothing but mean everything.
it's those short hits of happiness
that keep me going,
help me push through the pain.
what used to be little more than
schoolchild squabbling,
has morphed into something tangible,
something i can put a name to.
for the first time in a long time
i have something i can put my trust in,
like a golden sun warming me from the inside-out
in this bitter, relentless winter.
"you are my sunshine..."
those cheerful nods,
those exchanged pleasantries,
those night-time conversations
about essentially nothing but mean everything.
it's those short hits of happiness
that keep me going,
help me push through the pain.
what used to be little more than
schoolchild squabbling,
has morphed into something tangible,
something i can put a name to.
for the first time in a long time
i have something i can put my trust in,
like a golden sun warming me from the inside-out
in this bitter, relentless winter.
"you are my sunshine..."
some beautiful words that someone wrote and i found.
"Here is the deepest secret no one knows. Here is the root of the root... and the bud of the bud... and the sky of the sky of a tree called life... which grows higher than the soul can hope... or mind can hide. It is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart. I carry your heart. I carry it in my heart. "
Monday, May 24, 2010
disappointment.
like a heavy anchor on a sinking ship,
dragging it down to the bottom of the ocean,
a dark, uncertain abyss.
can't breathe. vision blurs,
a whirlpool there and then - gone.
one word floats to the forefront
of my spinning head:
failure.
unlike a cold, sharp slap to the face,
this ache is a dull one,
the old familiar fear returning.
if i could do it over, i would.
but then, i don't think i'd know how.
like a heavy anchor on a sinking ship,
dragging it down to the bottom of the ocean,
a dark, uncertain abyss.
can't breathe. vision blurs,
a whirlpool there and then - gone.
one word floats to the forefront
of my spinning head:
failure.
unlike a cold, sharp slap to the face,
this ache is a dull one,
the old familiar fear returning.
if i could do it over, i would.
but then, i don't think i'd know how.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
a barnum and bailey world
so,
i wrote this in response to 'A Streetcar named Desire', because Allen Grey intrigues me...
I turn from the mirror,
A careful façade firmly in place
On my face; chiseled jaw, smoldering eyes
I really don’t know how she falls for my disguise.
My few, carefully chosen words cover a
myriad of weaknesses. Yes, weaknesses.
Because I am the weakest of all.
Coward. Sissy boy. Pansy.
The words echo dully in my head, cold truth.
She thinks I’m strong, she’s so wrong.
I despise this inner fight; it keeps me up every night.
While she sleeps on, restless but restful, I lie awake,
Every fiber of my being used to suppress the sobs
That battle to break free of my crybaby-boy lips.
In the morning, daylight is a harsh spotlight
On my shadows, tell-tale signs of my shortcomings.
If only she knew…Perish the thought!
It will be okay, I can keep up this charade.
I have to. Because I do love her, and if I cannot
Give her what she needs; I can at least pretend,
If only for her.
i wrote this in response to 'A Streetcar named Desire', because Allen Grey intrigues me...
I turn from the mirror,
A careful façade firmly in place
On my face; chiseled jaw, smoldering eyes
I really don’t know how she falls for my disguise.
My few, carefully chosen words cover a
myriad of weaknesses. Yes, weaknesses.
Because I am the weakest of all.
Coward. Sissy boy. Pansy.
The words echo dully in my head, cold truth.
She thinks I’m strong, she’s so wrong.
I despise this inner fight; it keeps me up every night.
While she sleeps on, restless but restful, I lie awake,
Every fiber of my being used to suppress the sobs
That battle to break free of my crybaby-boy lips.
In the morning, daylight is a harsh spotlight
On my shadows, tell-tale signs of my shortcomings.
If only she knew…Perish the thought!
It will be okay, I can keep up this charade.
I have to. Because I do love her, and if I cannot
Give her what she needs; I can at least pretend,
If only for her.
this is a metaphor.
sometimes things don't turn out the way you wanted. sometimes they turn out even better.
i just want to turn the page
i believe...
in order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different
toothpaste tubes are deliberately designed to be difficult, in order for toothpaste companies to make more money
there is nothing quite as liberating as confronting a fear
bubble paths are one of life's simple pleasures
friends are the family you get to chose but family was picked for you because they take all your crap and still love you
happy girls are the prettiest
you don't always have to act your age
good things come to those who wait, but sometimes you have to chase your dreams
the sound of a cat's purring is comfort
it's never to late to change
blogging is theraputic
everyone should jump in a puddle at least once
words are beauty at its simplest
one smile can change someone's day
true love is worth risking your dignity for
procrastination is the deadliest of sins
being brave is walking into a room with your head held high, and admitting you're scared
when faced with something hard, it's better to jump in the deep end
everyone needs someone to laugh with you, someone to cry with you, and someone to tell you to get over yourself
the reason your best friend isn't your sister is because if you were siblings, you'd kill each other
in experiencing things for yourself
in order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different
toothpaste tubes are deliberately designed to be difficult, in order for toothpaste companies to make more money
there is nothing quite as liberating as confronting a fear
bubble paths are one of life's simple pleasures
friends are the family you get to chose but family was picked for you because they take all your crap and still love you
happy girls are the prettiest
you don't always have to act your age
good things come to those who wait, but sometimes you have to chase your dreams
the sound of a cat's purring is comfort
it's never to late to change
blogging is theraputic
everyone should jump in a puddle at least once
words are beauty at its simplest
one smile can change someone's day
true love is worth risking your dignity for
procrastination is the deadliest of sins
being brave is walking into a room with your head held high, and admitting you're scared
when faced with something hard, it's better to jump in the deep end
everyone needs someone to laugh with you, someone to cry with you, and someone to tell you to get over yourself
the reason your best friend isn't your sister is because if you were siblings, you'd kill each other
in experiencing things for yourself
Friday, May 21, 2010
because the cat's the only cat who knows where it's at
i. am. so. insanely. happy.
i've been rather depressed all week, if my latest blog posts have been anything to go by.
(excluding of course the ones that were not so depressing, such as the two photos)
but in the last 6 or so hours, i've been amazingly happy.
i'd forgotten (almost) how uplifting it can be to just let loose and have good, clean,
innocent fun. baking cupcakes and putting ridiculous icing and toppings on, even if they look terrible and taste too sickly sweet, not worrying if they're perfect or not but having fun making them all the same, dancing around like a complete lunatic, singing old songs on singstar, those things make me happier than almost anything else.
for just a moment, i can forget about Responsibility and Growing Up and The Future and just enjoy life. i didn't realise until tonight just how much i'd missed that. this weekend is going to be an amazing one. and i'm going to look back on it with hopefully no regrets, only happy memories, and perhaps a slight stomachache from sugar overload.
"think of a wonderful thing. it's the same as having wings...you can fly, you can fly"
i've been rather depressed all week, if my latest blog posts have been anything to go by.
(excluding of course the ones that were not so depressing, such as the two photos)
but in the last 6 or so hours, i've been amazingly happy.
i'd forgotten (almost) how uplifting it can be to just let loose and have good, clean,
innocent fun. baking cupcakes and putting ridiculous icing and toppings on, even if they look terrible and taste too sickly sweet, not worrying if they're perfect or not but having fun making them all the same, dancing around like a complete lunatic, singing old songs on singstar, those things make me happier than almost anything else.
for just a moment, i can forget about Responsibility and Growing Up and The Future and just enjoy life. i didn't realise until tonight just how much i'd missed that. this weekend is going to be an amazing one. and i'm going to look back on it with hopefully no regrets, only happy memories, and perhaps a slight stomachache from sugar overload.
"think of a wonderful thing. it's the same as having wings...you can fly, you can fly"
Thursday, May 20, 2010
love at a coffee shop...
those shoes brought them to me. one day, they'll take them to amazing places.
today was sad.
the weather is often cruel and insensitive. today the cold bit at our faces, while other things tore at our hearts.
my neighbour's dog got put down yesterday, so she told me. that made me sad.
i read something significant somewhere insignificant. it was heartbreaking. that made me sad.
i could cry right now.
the weather is often cruel and insensitive. today the cold bit at our faces, while other things tore at our hearts.
my neighbour's dog got put down yesterday, so she told me. that made me sad.
i read something significant somewhere insignificant. it was heartbreaking. that made me sad.
i could cry right now.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
a double worded triple letter score
thursday. the day before friday. normally, i'd be happy about that. only one more day to get through before the weekend. only a short distance to paddle before another island. only a while further to walk through the desert before the next oasis. however, this week isn't a normal week, and therefore thursday is not a happy day. instead, it's another opportunity wasted. another few inches that the door's been closed. another chance to talk - gone. and i can't get it back. the clock's ticking, minutes disappearing all too fast. soon, it will be too late. and then what could have been will become what will never be.
the weight gets heavier with every word that i write. right now, precious moments are slipping away like sand through an hourglass. each day, those memories, already blurred, grow fainter. i want to hold onto what happened that night. not the events that everyone saw, that everyone talked about. no, the memories of whispered words, words that echo through my mind until they become etched into my brain, those are the memories that i hold onto.
"more than you can imagine"
more and more, i'm starting to think that they were words never uttered, rather, merely a product of my then-intoxicated brain. the thought is a crashing wave of disappointment, which i suspect has been suppressed for some time by a bank of denial. am i grasping at straws?
i wish i'd waited for longer today before walking. or something.
*sigh*
the weight gets heavier with every word that i write. right now, precious moments are slipping away like sand through an hourglass. each day, those memories, already blurred, grow fainter. i want to hold onto what happened that night. not the events that everyone saw, that everyone talked about. no, the memories of whispered words, words that echo through my mind until they become etched into my brain, those are the memories that i hold onto.
"more than you can imagine"
more and more, i'm starting to think that they were words never uttered, rather, merely a product of my then-intoxicated brain. the thought is a crashing wave of disappointment, which i suspect has been suppressed for some time by a bank of denial. am i grasping at straws?
i wish i'd waited for longer today before walking. or something.
*sigh*
a yellow dress, a kind of mess.
five things i want right now (or really soon)
5. to stop feeling sick
4. to have an amazing burst of creativity
3. to be able to just sleep, for ages.
2. a hug.
1. answers.
5. to stop feeling sick
4. to have an amazing burst of creativity
3. to be able to just sleep, for ages.
2. a hug.
1. answers.
I usually walk with my cat around the neighbourhood.
i really wish people didn't feel the need to impose themselves on others.
its not. about. you.
people are so infuriating these days, in their own little worlds, no thought that maybe, it isn't all about them. there are other people out there. people with feelings, and thoughts and opinions. people that have DIFFERENT opinions to you. so stop. trying to force your world down someone else's throat.
impatience. overreaction. selfishness. these things all irritated me today.
why can't people seem to find it in them to help others these days?
is the Good Samaritan dead?
its not. about. you.
people are so infuriating these days, in their own little worlds, no thought that maybe, it isn't all about them. there are other people out there. people with feelings, and thoughts and opinions. people that have DIFFERENT opinions to you. so stop. trying to force your world down someone else's throat.
impatience. overreaction. selfishness. these things all irritated me today.
why can't people seem to find it in them to help others these days?
is the Good Samaritan dead?
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
sometimes, i think we could be psychic.
so,
i wrote this a whiles back, and stumbled across it not too long ago... makes me wonder what i was feeling when i wrote it...
walk away
feel the breeze
feel the wind on your face
feel the rain, it's pouring down
drowning my sorrows
and there's no tomorrow
only memories and scars of yesterday...
the tumbling waves of my mixed-up emotions
crashing on cliffs of despair
my lost happiness buried deep in the ocean
my sadness and darkness fill the air
i need an answer
a simple solution
to the endless questions in my life
i can't make decisions
i can't choose a side
i can't make up my mind...
confusion is torture
and fear is a fire
that's burning up all of my dreams
i can't escape this feeling
that nothing's meant to be
and nothing is ever as it seems
i'm searching for some peace
and my only relief is to
walk away
feel the breeze
feel the wind in my face
feel the rain, it's pouring down
drowning my sorrows
and there's no tomorrow
only memories and scars of yesterday
rain down
wash away my hurt and pain
rain down
make me feel alive again
rain down
make the darkness fade away
i need these good feelings to stay...
i wrote this a whiles back, and stumbled across it not too long ago... makes me wonder what i was feeling when i wrote it...
walk away
feel the breeze
feel the wind on your face
feel the rain, it's pouring down
drowning my sorrows
and there's no tomorrow
only memories and scars of yesterday...
the tumbling waves of my mixed-up emotions
crashing on cliffs of despair
my lost happiness buried deep in the ocean
my sadness and darkness fill the air
i need an answer
a simple solution
to the endless questions in my life
i can't make decisions
i can't choose a side
i can't make up my mind...
confusion is torture
and fear is a fire
that's burning up all of my dreams
i can't escape this feeling
that nothing's meant to be
and nothing is ever as it seems
i'm searching for some peace
and my only relief is to
walk away
feel the breeze
feel the wind in my face
feel the rain, it's pouring down
drowning my sorrows
and there's no tomorrow
only memories and scars of yesterday
rain down
wash away my hurt and pain
rain down
make me feel alive again
rain down
make the darkness fade away
i need these good feelings to stay...
STELLAAAA!!!
i should never be left too long with only my thoughts for company.
it does more harm than good.
today i stayed at home, slept alot, and dwelled on the past.
i do it far too much, i overthink things, hence the title of my blog.
imagination can be a dangerous thing.
you build up hopes and expectations in your head, make things out to be more than they are,
replay scenes from the past over and over and over in your head, until it drives you half-insane.
imagination can make or break you. it can be the seed from which success sprouts,
or the slightest breeze that tips you over the edge and ultimately ends with downfall.
i don't mind imagiation, it's part of who i am.
but perhaps a spoonful of reality, or a dash of perspective, is what i need sometimes, an anchor, to prevent me from being swept away in a crashing storm of over-processed thoughts.
whose reality?
it does more harm than good.
today i stayed at home, slept alot, and dwelled on the past.
i do it far too much, i overthink things, hence the title of my blog.
imagination can be a dangerous thing.
you build up hopes and expectations in your head, make things out to be more than they are,
replay scenes from the past over and over and over in your head, until it drives you half-insane.
imagination can make or break you. it can be the seed from which success sprouts,
or the slightest breeze that tips you over the edge and ultimately ends with downfall.
i don't mind imagiation, it's part of who i am.
but perhaps a spoonful of reality, or a dash of perspective, is what i need sometimes, an anchor, to prevent me from being swept away in a crashing storm of over-processed thoughts.
whose reality?
Monday, May 17, 2010
a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down...
strangest of feelings...
am i sick? i don't know.
everybody's talking.
i guess i just have to ride it out. it will pass soon.
i try to cling to blurred memories
and piece together surreal events.
one thing was clear: the stars were amazing.
hope i haven't caught a cold.
hope what i thought i heard was true.
time will tell.
am i sick? i don't know.
everybody's talking.
i guess i just have to ride it out. it will pass soon.
i try to cling to blurred memories
and piece together surreal events.
one thing was clear: the stars were amazing.
hope i haven't caught a cold.
hope what i thought i heard was true.
time will tell.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
hotel, motel, holiday inn.
so,
the night's occurrances unfolded like a dream...flashes, edges blurred, darkness...
head spinning. (it still hasn't stopped)
sometimes, it's fun to pretend for a while. to forget.
i can't tell if i'm lying to myself. i'm pretty sure i heard correctly, what he said.
it struck a chord and was, while not particularly clear or strong,
distinct enough to play over and over in my head. constant repeat.
"more than you can imagine..."
are drunken words really sober thoughts?
or was it all just a game? games are fun, for a while...
"you be the prince and i'll be the princess.."
music stops. the world still spinning. momentary burning on my skin.
i guess there's a first time for everything. and some things are better left unasked...
the night's occurrances unfolded like a dream...flashes, edges blurred, darkness...
head spinning. (it still hasn't stopped)
sometimes, it's fun to pretend for a while. to forget.
i can't tell if i'm lying to myself. i'm pretty sure i heard correctly, what he said.
it struck a chord and was, while not particularly clear or strong,
distinct enough to play over and over in my head. constant repeat.
"more than you can imagine..."
are drunken words really sober thoughts?
or was it all just a game? games are fun, for a while...
"you be the prince and i'll be the princess.."
music stops. the world still spinning. momentary burning on my skin.
i guess there's a first time for everything. and some things are better left unasked...
The stars are so pretty tonight.
its insanely cold. my teeth are chattering.
everything is a blur
i don't quite know what's real and what's not.
follow the yellowbrick road....
but look, the stars are out.
they're amazing.
everything is a blur
i don't quite know what's real and what's not.
follow the yellowbrick road....
but look, the stars are out.
they're amazing.
Friday, May 14, 2010
"Patricia is my cousin"
Dear Juliet,
thousands - perhaps even millions - of girls just like me have written letters to you.
but why? i mean, no offense, you were probably a nice person. but let's backtrack for a moment. first of all, you're hardly in a position to be giving advice on affairs of the heart to any girl. the whole idea of it is actually quite dangerous. you committed suicide, when you found out that your romeo was dead. what kind of a role model does that make you? "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem"
do you really want other girls to follow in your footsteps, and take their own lives for some guy? yes, i could quite possibly be slapped for referring to romeo, who is supposedly one of the most romantic figures in the history of literature, but really, was he? from my reading of the play, he seemed rather fickle. at the beginning of the play, he was mourning the loss of Rosalind, and then in less than 12 hours later, he's falling in 'love' with you. so really, how deep can his love have been, until the next girl came along? say he had been bemoaning your falsely dead body, and megan fox had come strolling past, and he'd seen her? and fallen 'in love' with her? "Oh, Juliet, you're dead, i'll never love ano----woah, hello baby!"
it is entirely possible. romeo was a seventeen-year-old boy. full of raging hormones and all that. and you! Juliet, you were just fourteen when you allegedly fell in love with romeo. now, i'm by no means claiming that one can be too young to fall in love, but really. you were fourteen, probably had never seen a boy before, and romeo, who was probably a bit of a stud, rocks up to your party, and you become infatuated. and then of course, he, who is older but not necessarily wiser than you, whispers pretty words in your ear and manipulates you with sex and poetry, and you're off pledging your undying love to him. which brings me to my original point. are you really in the position to be giving relationship advice to girls who will most probably take it seriously? i hardly think so.
by the way, please don't take this personally. i'm a huge fan of Shakespeare.
yours thoughtfully,
thousands - perhaps even millions - of girls just like me have written letters to you.
but why? i mean, no offense, you were probably a nice person. but let's backtrack for a moment. first of all, you're hardly in a position to be giving advice on affairs of the heart to any girl. the whole idea of it is actually quite dangerous. you committed suicide, when you found out that your romeo was dead. what kind of a role model does that make you? "suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem"
do you really want other girls to follow in your footsteps, and take their own lives for some guy? yes, i could quite possibly be slapped for referring to romeo, who is supposedly one of the most romantic figures in the history of literature, but really, was he? from my reading of the play, he seemed rather fickle. at the beginning of the play, he was mourning the loss of Rosalind, and then in less than 12 hours later, he's falling in 'love' with you. so really, how deep can his love have been, until the next girl came along? say he had been bemoaning your falsely dead body, and megan fox had come strolling past, and he'd seen her? and fallen 'in love' with her? "Oh, Juliet, you're dead, i'll never love ano----woah, hello baby!"
it is entirely possible. romeo was a seventeen-year-old boy. full of raging hormones and all that. and you! Juliet, you were just fourteen when you allegedly fell in love with romeo. now, i'm by no means claiming that one can be too young to fall in love, but really. you were fourteen, probably had never seen a boy before, and romeo, who was probably a bit of a stud, rocks up to your party, and you become infatuated. and then of course, he, who is older but not necessarily wiser than you, whispers pretty words in your ear and manipulates you with sex and poetry, and you're off pledging your undying love to him. which brings me to my original point. are you really in the position to be giving relationship advice to girls who will most probably take it seriously? i hardly think so.
by the way, please don't take this personally. i'm a huge fan of Shakespeare.
yours thoughtfully,
Ignorance is bliss
i listen to them argue,
repetitive, back and forth, no resolution.
when was the last time they were just together,
enjoying one another's company?
bills, work, responsibility.
i dread the day when those will be words
falling frequently from my lips.
at which point must we stop living in happy, ignorant existence,
and become an 'adult'?
the word frightens me. as you get older, it's harder to ignore
the problems that surround you.
already, i notice myself beginning to
make myself do 'what i have to do', and to
concern myself with tedious things.
i don't want to grow up. i want to go back
to the days of blissful innocence,
where i was considered to be 'too young'
for confiding problems,
i want to be a child.
if knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss,
i'd take ignorance any day.
repetitive, back and forth, no resolution.
when was the last time they were just together,
enjoying one another's company?
bills, work, responsibility.
i dread the day when those will be words
falling frequently from my lips.
at which point must we stop living in happy, ignorant existence,
and become an 'adult'?
the word frightens me. as you get older, it's harder to ignore
the problems that surround you.
already, i notice myself beginning to
make myself do 'what i have to do', and to
concern myself with tedious things.
i don't want to grow up. i want to go back
to the days of blissful innocence,
where i was considered to be 'too young'
for confiding problems,
i want to be a child.
if knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss,
i'd take ignorance any day.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
at twenty, she was a legend...
alone at long last...
a huge, cold marble bathtub in the centre of a vast, empty chamber,
silent but for the sound of the steadily dripping tap
(it echoes)
an opportunity for solitude comes so rarely these days...
how ironic that a person who once constantly craved the company of others,
who was known of her open displays of affection to all,
can now be at the pinnacle of loneliness when surrounded by a crowd.
...when they wrenched me from my homeland, all that i had known, and deposited me
in a wasteland of self-indulgence, where scathing judgement glared coldly everywhere i turned...how can they expect me to exist in such a place, to succeed when everyone
anticipates my failure?
"we are too young to rule"
their painted white faces, almost clownish, should be comical if not for the steely gaze,
mirrored on each one, inescapable...
taking revenge in the only way she can, she can't wake up from this nightmare so instead
it will be disguised as a dream. turning away from endless grey stone and too-perfect lawns,
choosing instead pink parties, pretty cakes, feathers and champagne.
...if i must be a queen at nineteen, i will do it in style...
how could they blame her, find her guilty of so many accusations?
she was just a child, thrown into the deep end of an alien world,
forced into a position she never wanted...
she dealt with it as only a child would know how.
a huge, cold marble bathtub in the centre of a vast, empty chamber,
silent but for the sound of the steadily dripping tap
(it echoes)
an opportunity for solitude comes so rarely these days...
how ironic that a person who once constantly craved the company of others,
who was known of her open displays of affection to all,
can now be at the pinnacle of loneliness when surrounded by a crowd.
...when they wrenched me from my homeland, all that i had known, and deposited me
in a wasteland of self-indulgence, where scathing judgement glared coldly everywhere i turned...how can they expect me to exist in such a place, to succeed when everyone
anticipates my failure?
"we are too young to rule"
their painted white faces, almost clownish, should be comical if not for the steely gaze,
mirrored on each one, inescapable...
taking revenge in the only way she can, she can't wake up from this nightmare so instead
it will be disguised as a dream. turning away from endless grey stone and too-perfect lawns,
choosing instead pink parties, pretty cakes, feathers and champagne.
...if i must be a queen at nineteen, i will do it in style...
how could they blame her, find her guilty of so many accusations?
she was just a child, thrown into the deep end of an alien world,
forced into a position she never wanted...
she dealt with it as only a child would know how.
i dont want to sellotape my ring
Miss Mary Mack, mack, mack
all dressed in black, black, black
with silver buttons, buttons, buttons
all down her back, back, back
she asked her mother, mother, mother
for fifty cents, cents, cents
to see the elephants, elephants, elephants
jump over the fence, fence, fence
they jumped so high, high, high
they touched the sky, sky, sky
they didn't come back, back, back
till the fourth of july, july, july
a childhood rhyme, on repeat inside my brain, if it snowed i'd catch a snowflake and store it away
all dressed in black, black, black
with silver buttons, buttons, buttons
all down her back, back, back
she asked her mother, mother, mother
for fifty cents, cents, cents
to see the elephants, elephants, elephants
jump over the fence, fence, fence
they jumped so high, high, high
they touched the sky, sky, sky
they didn't come back, back, back
till the fourth of july, july, july
a childhood rhyme, on repeat inside my brain, if it snowed i'd catch a snowflake and store it away
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
An Unpalatable mixture of Hypocrisy, Self-Rightousness and Overreaction
any semblance of logical thinking falls on deaf ears
point out a problem and it is ignored
try to state your case - interrupted, drowned out, overridden by the stubbornness of others
total and utter refusal to listen to reason
not in any way open to the opinions of others
throw irrelevant arguments out like candy at christmas, and twist the words of your opposition, in completely irrational ways
unrealistic intolerance of the expression of emotion
expected to smile and take everything lying down?
enough. is. enough.
i was never one for the 'walk away' approach.
if i'm going to be accused, i will fight with every fibre of my being for my case.
i was given powerful lungs for a reason.
narrowmindedness is unacceptable.
bear that in mind, this girl will not go down without a fight.
point out a problem and it is ignored
try to state your case - interrupted, drowned out, overridden by the stubbornness of others
total and utter refusal to listen to reason
not in any way open to the opinions of others
throw irrelevant arguments out like candy at christmas, and twist the words of your opposition, in completely irrational ways
unrealistic intolerance of the expression of emotion
expected to smile and take everything lying down?
enough. is. enough.
i was never one for the 'walk away' approach.
if i'm going to be accused, i will fight with every fibre of my being for my case.
i was given powerful lungs for a reason.
narrowmindedness is unacceptable.
bear that in mind, this girl will not go down without a fight.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
tinted windows obscure blue skies
so,
climbing onto a hard, uniform plastic chair,
i stood to rap loudly on the window, scaring off two
irritatingly loud crows that were perched there
...a warm green sweater, soft between my fingertips as i turned it right-way-out,
and folded it, trying to be discreet as i placed it back on the table.
no such luck.
at the last moment, she glanced up and thanked me with the usual friendly familiarity
that we enjoy with her.
she is my favorite for a reason.
someday, i'd like to be like her.
home. sitting on another hard chair, this time wood, and not so uniform.
trying to put pretty words to melody
would be much easier with a guitar.
am i backwards? words come so easily, but the music is meticulous.
isn't music mean't to be free?
perhaps i'm trying too hard.
still nowhere near that pedastal, but even so, happyness is present
that's got to count for something
climbing onto a hard, uniform plastic chair,
i stood to rap loudly on the window, scaring off two
irritatingly loud crows that were perched there
...a warm green sweater, soft between my fingertips as i turned it right-way-out,
and folded it, trying to be discreet as i placed it back on the table.
no such luck.
at the last moment, she glanced up and thanked me with the usual friendly familiarity
that we enjoy with her.
she is my favorite for a reason.
someday, i'd like to be like her.
home. sitting on another hard chair, this time wood, and not so uniform.
trying to put pretty words to melody
would be much easier with a guitar.
am i backwards? words come so easily, but the music is meticulous.
isn't music mean't to be free?
perhaps i'm trying too hard.
still nowhere near that pedastal, but even so, happyness is present
that's got to count for something
His name is Allen Grey...
there was an unspoken softness about him,
he was distinctly his own person, born a hundred years before his time,
that's why they didn't understand.
he strung together all of life's unnoticed occurrances, wound them around his wrist
and carried them for comfort in his pocket for a while.
almost forgotten,
but in a cloudstorm, he pulled them out, sorted through the clutter
and made clarity from the confusion.
he believed in things that were considered blasphemy;
spoke aloud what others denied
and dared to dream, had room for disappointment in exchange for the chance of hope
he whispered to me.
rainbows, oppurtunity, escape
and i opened my heart, closed my eyes,
took his hand....
and jumped
he was distinctly his own person, born a hundred years before his time,
that's why they didn't understand.
he strung together all of life's unnoticed occurrances, wound them around his wrist
and carried them for comfort in his pocket for a while.
almost forgotten,
but in a cloudstorm, he pulled them out, sorted through the clutter
and made clarity from the confusion.
he believed in things that were considered blasphemy;
spoke aloud what others denied
and dared to dream, had room for disappointment in exchange for the chance of hope
he whispered to me.
rainbows, oppurtunity, escape
and i opened my heart, closed my eyes,
took his hand....
and jumped
Monday, May 10, 2010
the persuit of happyness
so,
happiness. it's what everyone wants, right?
i know i do. what makes us happy? is it wrong to have little things make you happy? should we focus on Whats Really Important, as opposed to trivialities?
what if Whats Really Important is not something that makes us happy, rather, it's the trivialities that bring a smile to our faces.
these days, it's definately the little things that make me happy, the things that those Older and Wiser would possibly deem 'not so important'
and i guess, in the grand scheme of things, they're not. but they are to me. sometimes.
"maybe it's about stringing together all the little things, making those count for more than the big stuff."
in my humble opinion, i think it's important to have those little things, tiny bursts of golden joy, little intervals of light in the tunnel, to get through the tough bits.
it's important to have things to look forward to, to take time out for yourself, and to just be silly sometimes. it's not a crime to be immature every once in a while. just because we're 'growing up', and will soon have to face 'the real world', we don't have to act like miniature adults all the time, standing around drinking coffee and discussing current affairs.
what's wrong with rolling down a hill, or having a pillow fight, or giggling over something completely stupid?
if those moments - and they come so rarely in this life - bring us happiness, if only for a brief time, is it not better to savour them, ebmrace them, and make the most of them?
because we never know when the next one's going to come along.
sometimes it's nice to stop. take a breather, and indulge in a little harmless fun once in a while, before soldiering on again.
don't let others reprimand you for enjoying life. if they want to plod along, continually miserable, that's their choice. but it's not a vaccuum, you don't have to be sucked in.
smile once a day.
give someone a compliment.
laugh at silly things.
jump in a puddle.
make the little things count.
carpe diem!
happiness. it's what everyone wants, right?
i know i do. what makes us happy? is it wrong to have little things make you happy? should we focus on Whats Really Important, as opposed to trivialities?
what if Whats Really Important is not something that makes us happy, rather, it's the trivialities that bring a smile to our faces.
these days, it's definately the little things that make me happy, the things that those Older and Wiser would possibly deem 'not so important'
and i guess, in the grand scheme of things, they're not. but they are to me. sometimes.
"maybe it's about stringing together all the little things, making those count for more than the big stuff."
in my humble opinion, i think it's important to have those little things, tiny bursts of golden joy, little intervals of light in the tunnel, to get through the tough bits.
it's important to have things to look forward to, to take time out for yourself, and to just be silly sometimes. it's not a crime to be immature every once in a while. just because we're 'growing up', and will soon have to face 'the real world', we don't have to act like miniature adults all the time, standing around drinking coffee and discussing current affairs.
what's wrong with rolling down a hill, or having a pillow fight, or giggling over something completely stupid?
if those moments - and they come so rarely in this life - bring us happiness, if only for a brief time, is it not better to savour them, ebmrace them, and make the most of them?
because we never know when the next one's going to come along.
sometimes it's nice to stop. take a breather, and indulge in a little harmless fun once in a while, before soldiering on again.
don't let others reprimand you for enjoying life. if they want to plod along, continually miserable, that's their choice. but it's not a vaccuum, you don't have to be sucked in.
smile once a day.
give someone a compliment.
laugh at silly things.
jump in a puddle.
make the little things count.
carpe diem!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
perhaps it's too late?
is it too late now to decide i don't want to grow up? everything's so close and it's terrifying. i'm now an 'adult', which has few merits, in the grand scheme of things. soon, all too soon, i will be out in the 'real world' as those older and wiser call it. as if i don't know what the real world is. i mean, i probably don't. i have no idea. and that's what scares me. i don't want to have to make decisions, and be serious, and self-sacrifice, and do things that i have to rather than that i want to. i'm selfish, i know, but being a child allows you to be selfish and i don't have that luxury anymore. i wish more than anything that i was five years old again, when my biggest fears were of the monster under the bed, and of getting sent to the naughty corner in school. i wish i could run into my parents room and sleep between them to make the nightmares go away. i wish i could dress up in fairy wings and colour with chalk on the driveway of my old best friend's house. i wish i could go back to the days of ignorance, and innocence, where i could just play and not worry about anything. i had grown-ups to do the worrying for me. when i was younger, i used to wish i was grown up. now i have no idea why.
"i fall as hard as i try"
just reflecting on things, and these lyrics floated into my head.
good song, and sums up what i've been feeling a lot lately.
this isn't the whole song, just bits and pieces that i like.
why do you put me on a pedestal? im so up high that i cant see the ground below so help me down, you've got it wrong i don't belong there
i always said that i would make mistakes im only human and thats my saving grace I'll fall as hard as i try so don't be blinded see me as i really am i have flaws and sometimes I even sin so pull me from that pedestal i don't belong there
sometimes i just feel like, i'm on a pedastal, as the song suggests. sometimes i feel like people see me as someone that has it together, in certain aspects of life, when really i don't. "i don't belong there..."
i wish i did. i really do. i used to kind of belong there. well maybe not quite. but i was on the way up. and then, i don't know, something happened, and i'm not on that road anymore. it's like i try to reach for it, but things get in my way. a lot has to do with myself, i'm just not as sure and steadfast as i used to be, about everything. it's a little scary, and sometimes i really get terrified of the person i could potentially turn out to be.
i have a glutton for punishment. i seriously have issues. but i'm not going to vent my spleen emo-style all over this blog. it should be a happy space.
i just need some time to breathe, figure things out, chill, be happy.
i'm working on it.
good song, and sums up what i've been feeling a lot lately.
this isn't the whole song, just bits and pieces that i like.
why do you put me on a pedestal? im so up high that i cant see the ground below so help me down, you've got it wrong i don't belong there
i always said that i would make mistakes im only human and thats my saving grace I'll fall as hard as i try so don't be blinded see me as i really am i have flaws and sometimes I even sin so pull me from that pedestal i don't belong there
sometimes i just feel like, i'm on a pedastal, as the song suggests. sometimes i feel like people see me as someone that has it together, in certain aspects of life, when really i don't. "i don't belong there..."
i wish i did. i really do. i used to kind of belong there. well maybe not quite. but i was on the way up. and then, i don't know, something happened, and i'm not on that road anymore. it's like i try to reach for it, but things get in my way. a lot has to do with myself, i'm just not as sure and steadfast as i used to be, about everything. it's a little scary, and sometimes i really get terrified of the person i could potentially turn out to be.
i have a glutton for punishment. i seriously have issues. but i'm not going to vent my spleen emo-style all over this blog. it should be a happy space.
i just need some time to breathe, figure things out, chill, be happy.
i'm working on it.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
the games we play...
So,
remember when we were kids, and we'd play al those different make-believe games? fairies, mothers and fathers, sometimes we'd re-enact movies or tv shows we'd seen. you could play for hours with your friends, or even sometimes on your own, and you'd get completely absorbed in the game, so much so that you'd lose touch with reality. it was like a vivid dream, and when you stopped playing, you woke up. we'd play those games to pass the time, or just because it was fun. i might be reading too much into it, but i guess, deep down, it was kind of like an escape. like, the worlds we created when we played our make-believe games were so much better than the real world. so much more fun, and the possiblities for who you could be or what you could do were endless. you could be ten feet tall, or a fairy with magical powers, or own a hundred horses, or you could fly. the sky wasn't even the limit, you could go further than that.
at some point, we got older, and became 'mature' (as we liked to think we were), and suddenly make-believe games were no longer the done thing. they weren't 'cool'. ah, the days when fitting in and conforming were all we worried about. we tried to grow up so fast, and act like adults when we were still just kids. and then, in a flash, our childhood's gone, and we have to suddenly be real grown-ups, with real responsibilities, and it's scary. like, it's happening all too fast.
and that's when we decide, we don't want to grow up after all, so we start playing make-believe again. even more so than before. only now, our games aren't acknowledged as much, and we don't admit we're playing them. we sometimes play by ourselves, sometimes with others. we're playing all these different games, to cover up truths, or run from them, to block out painful or inconvenient realities, or just to escape. or maybe we're trying to avoid facing up to the fact that we can't change who we are. like the games we play, the reasons for playing them are endless. so i guess we never really stop playing games. first we play children's games, then we get older and say we don't play games, but really we're just kids dressing up in our parent's clothes. and later, when it's really time to grow up, we don't want to. sometimes i guess we just want to go back to the sandpit and play fairies again. because life was so much simpler then.
remember when we were kids, and we'd play al those different make-believe games? fairies, mothers and fathers, sometimes we'd re-enact movies or tv shows we'd seen. you could play for hours with your friends, or even sometimes on your own, and you'd get completely absorbed in the game, so much so that you'd lose touch with reality. it was like a vivid dream, and when you stopped playing, you woke up. we'd play those games to pass the time, or just because it was fun. i might be reading too much into it, but i guess, deep down, it was kind of like an escape. like, the worlds we created when we played our make-believe games were so much better than the real world. so much more fun, and the possiblities for who you could be or what you could do were endless. you could be ten feet tall, or a fairy with magical powers, or own a hundred horses, or you could fly. the sky wasn't even the limit, you could go further than that.
at some point, we got older, and became 'mature' (as we liked to think we were), and suddenly make-believe games were no longer the done thing. they weren't 'cool'. ah, the days when fitting in and conforming were all we worried about. we tried to grow up so fast, and act like adults when we were still just kids. and then, in a flash, our childhood's gone, and we have to suddenly be real grown-ups, with real responsibilities, and it's scary. like, it's happening all too fast.
and that's when we decide, we don't want to grow up after all, so we start playing make-believe again. even more so than before. only now, our games aren't acknowledged as much, and we don't admit we're playing them. we sometimes play by ourselves, sometimes with others. we're playing all these different games, to cover up truths, or run from them, to block out painful or inconvenient realities, or just to escape. or maybe we're trying to avoid facing up to the fact that we can't change who we are. like the games we play, the reasons for playing them are endless. so i guess we never really stop playing games. first we play children's games, then we get older and say we don't play games, but really we're just kids dressing up in our parent's clothes. and later, when it's really time to grow up, we don't want to. sometimes i guess we just want to go back to the sandpit and play fairies again. because life was so much simpler then.
Regrets, Misinterpretations, am i just paranoid?
So,
ever had a night or day, where you should have had a really good time, but because of a range of contributing factors, you just couldn't quite enjoy yourself? and then afterward, you feel really low, and you don't really know why? you just can't pinpoint the exact thing that's bothering you?
or maybe you do know, but you can't explain it out loud because to anyone else but you it sounds really stupid?
yeah. that's me right now.
as you might have guessed.
not a happy vegemite. at all.
quite silly, seeing as it's mothers day. i should be hanging out with my mum, not moping around and blogging on my own.
you know what just occurred to me? blogs are supposed to be anonymous. well, if you want them to be. and mine...well isn't quite so anonymous anymore. seeing as people know it's mine. i just...killed the anonymity.
nice work.
anyway. back to the subject of this post.
so last nite was...not quite what i expected it to be. and i feel rather guilty, like i didn't spend enough time with the people that truly matter. those that are always there.
why do we do that? we spend so much time trying to impress or catch the attention of the people that we know deep down will never be there for us, or who don't appreciate us, and then we leave behind the people that matter, the ones that are there to dry our tears, make us smile, listen, and love. and eventually, if we spend too much time chasing those that don't matter, while ignoring those that do, we'll end up alone.
kinda sucks, doesn't it?
i sincerely hope that this moment of epiphany for me will cause me to stop taking things for granted so that i don't end up alone.
adios.
ever had a night or day, where you should have had a really good time, but because of a range of contributing factors, you just couldn't quite enjoy yourself? and then afterward, you feel really low, and you don't really know why? you just can't pinpoint the exact thing that's bothering you?
or maybe you do know, but you can't explain it out loud because to anyone else but you it sounds really stupid?
yeah. that's me right now.
as you might have guessed.
not a happy vegemite. at all.
quite silly, seeing as it's mothers day. i should be hanging out with my mum, not moping around and blogging on my own.
you know what just occurred to me? blogs are supposed to be anonymous. well, if you want them to be. and mine...well isn't quite so anonymous anymore. seeing as people know it's mine. i just...killed the anonymity.
nice work.
anyway. back to the subject of this post.
so last nite was...not quite what i expected it to be. and i feel rather guilty, like i didn't spend enough time with the people that truly matter. those that are always there.
why do we do that? we spend so much time trying to impress or catch the attention of the people that we know deep down will never be there for us, or who don't appreciate us, and then we leave behind the people that matter, the ones that are there to dry our tears, make us smile, listen, and love. and eventually, if we spend too much time chasing those that don't matter, while ignoring those that do, we'll end up alone.
kinda sucks, doesn't it?
i sincerely hope that this moment of epiphany for me will cause me to stop taking things for granted so that i don't end up alone.
adios.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
a little bit of Heaney appreciation
i just felt the need, mid-way through planning my Beowulf SAC for tomorrow, to give credit to a wonderful Irish poet, who enabled me through the reading of his words to unlock my own word-hoard and be inspired after a long dry period devoid of creative thought, to start writing again. Thank you, Seamus (not Sean!) Heaney. :)
+ respect
+ respect
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Tied hands cannot produce creative works
The bland light of a lazy afternoon
Acted as a spotlight to my epiphany
And I realized a secret that I would fear to tell
So I hid it in my sleeve
And lapsed into daydream
I allowed my imagination to take me
Where my dreams fear to tread
Delusion is welcome
To a head too oft ruled by a lonely heart
And I’ll just sit on the porch swing
While sunlight seeps into my brain
And turns my mean reds to golden joy
On the cusp of a breakthrough
An escape from the monotony
Of the familiar, the comfortable
They say the devil finds work for idle hands;
Well then if a poet is idle
The devil will tie her hands and take prisoner
Her imagination
So she is devoid of all creative thought
Acted as a spotlight to my epiphany
And I realized a secret that I would fear to tell
So I hid it in my sleeve
And lapsed into daydream
I allowed my imagination to take me
Where my dreams fear to tread
Delusion is welcome
To a head too oft ruled by a lonely heart
And I’ll just sit on the porch swing
While sunlight seeps into my brain
And turns my mean reds to golden joy
On the cusp of a breakthrough
An escape from the monotony
Of the familiar, the comfortable
They say the devil finds work for idle hands;
Well then if a poet is idle
The devil will tie her hands and take prisoner
Her imagination
So she is devoid of all creative thought
The Angst of a Poet
So,
The wind came and went,
A rushing whisper that stirred up my thoughts
Just as the wave washes small treasures up
All that was produced was a short burst of creativity;
Before the lid snapped shut on the word-hoard
And any further findings were unattainable
I tried to reach, but the ladder toppled over
and I landed in the sands of time, blank time,
that place devoid of inspiration, oh how I loathe it
it irks me so, to the point at which I seize fistfuls of my own hair
Upturn inkwells and send parchment flying
And then the storm subsides, and I am quiet as a still, glassy lake,
a frosted mere, the serenity of the mist hiding the slow, ever-burning
longing, a yearning that cannot be quenched, until every drop of ink, every semblence
of creative thought is extracted from the depths of my restless mind.
will it ever be enough?
The wind came and went,
A rushing whisper that stirred up my thoughts
Just as the wave washes small treasures up
All that was produced was a short burst of creativity;
Before the lid snapped shut on the word-hoard
And any further findings were unattainable
I tried to reach, but the ladder toppled over
and I landed in the sands of time, blank time,
that place devoid of inspiration, oh how I loathe it
it irks me so, to the point at which I seize fistfuls of my own hair
Upturn inkwells and send parchment flying
And then the storm subsides, and I am quiet as a still, glassy lake,
a frosted mere, the serenity of the mist hiding the slow, ever-burning
longing, a yearning that cannot be quenched, until every drop of ink, every semblence
of creative thought is extracted from the depths of my restless mind.
will it ever be enough?
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