Friday, December 29, 2006

Misread By The CD Player Of Society

When we go down/We're not catching fire, we're putting ourselves out/And we aren't goth/Just a little dark on the insides/The ones we keep so close inside

I see you watching me/Staring into my corner, staring like it's a freak show/But you can't disguise the hungry look in your eye/I'm just too uneven for you/Too low socially, too high mentally/No, I don't fear being along/I'm loved by someone who's too good for airhead society/And longs to be accepted and one of you/But I don't fear being alone

We don't listen to your music/We don't buy your favorite brands of clothes or philosophy/And we have the means, just not the inclination to make our greatest wishes come true/We're too lazy to rule the world

I see you watching me/Staring into my corner, staring like it's a freak show/But you can't disguise the hungry look in your eye/I'm just too uneven for you/Too low socially, too high mentally/No, I don't fear being along/I'm loved by someone who's too good for airhead society/And longs to be accepted and one of you/But I don't fear being alone

We love too hard to be on of you/Unlike you, we can only tolerate the truth/You're fed on lies and styrofoam/While we manage to get by on life

Thursday, December 28, 2006

The Sharp Smell Of Magic

The smell of you on me makes my head swell
And the lights blink; magic
Oh, everyone deserves a friend like you
Or at the very best, an enemy
Because the Christmas lights hung from your head
Remind me that you're the last person to know me
For who I really am (or was before you)
Get up, stand up, drop up
Dancing on the wall, forgetting who is home
And the scent of your hair makes my head spin
You have know idea how much trouble I could be in
If I remember that I live in the smell of hairspray
And the sound of good girls, anti-you's
The ones that don't know how to party or how to forget
But the lights blink; magic
And out of all the hundreds of people currently interfering with my life
You're the only one I can see (or touch)
This has, gone on, far too long for me to hit restart
I can only love you from backstage
'Cause I keep the show running
While your reputation should be running me into the ground
Tonight, you keep me up with concrete pillars
Just being friends is too unfriendly, how about you come with me
And we can go love each other underneath the highway
And watch the river flow and the city lights glimmer
And fight off questions about where we've been
Everyone who writes poetry like mine
They deserve awards and a lover like you could be (if you kissed me)
Keep on driving me lazy, I'm too crazy
To pull myself out of the magic back to where I came from
Well, I'm offended you consider me your friend
Because I consider you my reason for living
And my life with reason
When all's said and done, you feel too good
And your hair smells too nice for me to call it a sin

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Our Self-Made Tragedy

We try act happy over the snow you brought me
But I can tell from the fake smile on your face
It's only rain
So when we lock ourselves up in ice
We only have each other for warmth
And only each other to blame
But I keep my anger and frustration close in tight
Because it's all you won't steal from me
Come sleep, come sleep all day
I'll be running, far away
Nothing's as good as you (or as painful)
You look so blue
Freezing in your own rain
Shower us in your numbing pain
Come on, please let a cliche come between us
And block out the scent of the cold kerosene
The flammable substances wrapped in slush
The car hits, as the audience hushes
People stare, our life rushes
Rushing through the motions of this never-ending dream
Have we broken up again, I can never tell
Because if we have or if we haven't you keep nailing shut my coffin
But if you say it makes you happy
You're either a liar or a sadist
My diary lies unused
Because to stop myself from being a failure every day
I swallow the ink from my pen
You're my only regret and my biggest mistake
And all I need is someone
Who looks, acts and thinks nothing like you
The man with the shotgun killed the cat
And the world's best secret is that you cut out my heart
And keep it in a hat, hung up in your closet
You couldn't even hide it well, because the part of me that loves
Isn't what you value, or want to keep around
Take that

[part two]

I'm keeping quiet
Not even breathing
Let no one know I'm here
Angel, demon or woman
I don't know which I fear
Staring up at the lid of my coffin
Feeling the words you carved there, and the luscious dark wood
And the thick air
Hiding underground, where you put me
And where you'll leave me be
Sometime I'll just stop breathing
And I hope you choke on the cool night air
Let your conscience fasten itself around your neck
I'll gladly watch you sink and choke
If only to have the hurt laid bare

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Bigger And Better At Being Worse

Oh, don't be sarcastic
Please I'm asking you
Because you're making a complete mess of it
I should let you know, we're playing on a level plain
'Cause now I match you pound for pound in substance, style
And cynicism
You just like him so much don't you?
The blond pretty boy, I could make him look blue
And I would, just for to hurt you
But he can't help who he is
A pretty looking boy with a pretty empty head
And a laugh that sounds like something's about to be dead
He's just a cardboard prop to me
I could break him, just to hurt you
As you can tell, I'm not your old polite little yes-boy
Your executive toy
Your wind up, throw away action figure
Now I'm a little bit older
A little bit colder
And a little less naive
You can't control me anymore
I'm not chaining myself to anyone anymore
I've come back from the grave you put me in
And I have something to tell you
And it isn't going to be pretty
Ah, for Christmas Eve
It sure is chilly

Hide Within My Rock

Don't yell at me for who I am
That's wrong, but don't expect to find out from me what's right
I only know that if I still talked to you
I'd still be crying every night
And if you never love you never cry
And never have to watch her die
Broken in your arms
So that's why I have my walls
My caller i.d. and deadbolts
So I never have to love, or cry, or wonder why?
Why?
It's a paradise, I tell myself
And after all
I have my poetry and books to protect me from outside thoughts
And my music to talk to and guide me
I never will see you again
We'll never be anything, not even friends
So don't talk to me again
My perfect life has no room for lovers, or friends

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Nobody Likes "Maybe" Backed Into A Corner

We don't care about who we are
(simply because we can't be who we want to)
You're my best, closestest friend (in my head)
But in real life you're almost as far away as dead
(how happy we are in my head!)
When you feel blue like me (the sea)
Everything rhymes with death
And you can't cry, cause the tears won't come
The human race has already used up its allowance of salt water
Poor me/poor you/poor we
Light you on fire in effigy, leave me be
Leave me the person I want to be
The one you kicked off the hayride
You're my best mistake for ruining my life
You could ruin my life (because you're so pretty)
Keep quiet, I've kept quiet, like little boy blue
You like him don't you?
You loose the color blue from underneath the rock
It was buried under
Christ
You're great
Working for us sinful little people
But I light matches in the wintertime, just to keep my head on
And the snow outside, where I belong
And why does "flowers" rhyme with death?
And why do I hear your voice every night when I try to sleep
You'd weep, like I can't, oh wait, I'm a tragic poet, I forgot
Can I lie like I'm happy with you to the world?
Because you're the last locked door between me and you
Douse the wick in kerosene
Lit like a candle
Douse the wicked kerosene
It's all that's keeping me rambling on
Don't say that poets can't dream
I've dreamed up more than life could ever create
Thank God for imagination
Thank evolution for opposable thumbs
Thank me for not shouting it all out on a rooftop
Because then the world would never let us be
But it never leaves alone
Such farsighted, insighted, uprighted boys like me
I look so good in shades of blue
So do you

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

On Politics, or, You #$%3ing %#$^ $#$%%$^!

Ah, politics. Something that deeply divides the nation. And all nations. And the world. Why is this, you may ask? Well, I might have found the answer. People are thick headed jerks. I know some perfectly nice people, who, if politics is talked about around them, will immediatly turn into the most venomous, disgusting show of intolerance. They refuse to behave civilized about it. If you're going to be a jerk, don't talk about it. Sounds easy, right? Ha ha ha. Not so. Usually, the worse a person is, the more he or she will be attracted to it! But here's a good rule of thumb for gauging people's political hatred level. If they start talking about politics without anyone bringing it up, and their talking about it is very snooty and down-putting to their opposition, quickly tie him or her down, gag the person, and run away as fast as you can. Nothing good can come from these people. The problem with politics is that the majority of people do not realize that the people with whom they differ in politics have legit reasons for their views. Different reason than you have, correct, but legit all the same. Because they don't get this, Democrats are accepting and tolerant of everyone except those who have even a vaguely conservative attitude, and Republicans see themselves as protectors of all that is Good, American, and Holy. If you never hear me talking serious politics to anyone, don't be surprised. I don't want to force anyone to publicly declare themselves an ass. So, just remember that. The person on the other side of the table isn't Satan. He or she is someone just like you, only a different shade of red or blue.

Monday, December 18, 2006

The Ageala Mahor Conflicts, part 1.

The surface of Ageala Mahor shines and wavers through the outer layer of the atmosphere, like the air in a desert. On the surface, though, it's cool and wet, for the rainy season has just departed. And in opinion of Private Herring, Amphibious Ambush Troop, it's just a sight too cool for his liking. "Sir, permission to speak?" The request was answered by a gruff "Permission granted" from Sergeant Maliffso, Amphibious Ambush and Assault Extraordinaire. "Sir," said Private Herring, "isn't it going to be great when the weather control station's up?" The cold stare he got in reply said, very clearly, no, it will not be great. "Keep your eyes on the water private; the last report said the sklinterrs are coming this way." They were on the edge of a rocky cliff, the abrupt end to the ground. Below the cliff was the clear blue Agealian sea, and somewhere in there was a group of sklinterrs, surging through the water, their sole aim being to attack the nearby United Base. Sklinterrs are one of the strangest death machines; they are individually two foot long sharp metal splinters, yet they can bind together to form shapes for traveling. In water they form a vaguely dolphin-like shape, and on land they can create a flowing snake. When they reach their target, they split apart, and fly through the air, spinning wildly. While doing this, they can shred nearly any material apart. And this is why Private Herring and Sergeant Maliffso were stationed on the edge of a sea cliff, with an amphibious missile launcher for each of them.
As they waited, Sergeant Maliffso watched Private Herring; "The boy could be good," he thought to himself, "but he seems to be rather easily distracted. I wonder how he'll cope with his first battle." They stood quietly, then Private Herring sunk to his knees. "Private?" Sergeant Maliffso asked. "Praying sir; I had a sudden resurgence of Sunday school memories." "I see. Well I would- Get up Private, they're here." Two large dolphins had swam into view. Or at least, they were shaped similar to dolphins. The machines were about three times larger than the average dolphin, and made of a shiny platinum-looking metal. "Get ready to fire, Private, but don't alert them to our presence." "Siryessir. Preparing to- oops." The missile cartridge slipped out of the Private's hands, and crashed upon the rocks below. The air briefly turned yellow around where the cartridge hit, then went back to normal. "Wonderful, Private, just wonder-" before he could finish his sentence, several sklinterrs detached from one of the groups, and launched themselves out of the water towards the Sergeant's head. He dispatched them with a missile, and began to reload. But before he could fire more than one or two missiles, the sklinterrs had already reached the cliff, and were flowing up in rivers of liquid steel. "Damn, we can't hit them from here; the angle we're at will just ensure we miss if we fire. Come on Private, it's time to retreat back to base. Run!" They took off into the forest, running for their lives. "Drop your weapons Private, they'll just slow you down!" "Yessir!" They let their weapons drop to the ground, just as they heard the whirring that meant the machines had gotten up the cliff and were already ripping apart the vegetation.
After only thirty seconds or, an explosion ripped out as the sklinterrs hit the guns; a high pitched scream went up, and then they got angry. They split apart, and spread through the jungle indiscriminately shredding whatever moved. "Get into a tree Herring, we'll be able to hide from them that way!" "Yessir!" The Sergeant swiftly clambered up a tree, but as the Private grabbed onto a branch, it snapped and he tumbled to the ground. He got up and made a leap for another branch. He never got there. A sklinterr came out of the undergrowth and drilled through his chest, killing him instantly. The sklinterrs came back together, and flowed on as the snake form toward the United Base. The Sergeant marked the place where the Private had fallen, and came down from the tree. He started running off to base, taking a circuitous route to avoid running into his previous pursuers. "Sorry kid... Bad luck." He thought to himself as ran, "But I'll be back for you. Though what needs to be done now is save the Settlement; your corpse can come later."

Saturday, December 16, 2006

You've Been Here Too Long

Don't forget what you came here for
Just to walk through that open door
You're just lingering here
In a world that isn't real
At least, not for you
This is my own world, why won't you leave?
For you it's just a passage to somewhere else
Or should be
Why won't you leave?
You're the only thing I can't erase
I just keep telling to you're gone
But you've been here all along

Thursday, December 14, 2006

A Love Story

The house was lit up, all the windows letting out light and the joyful celebration contained inside shown to all the world. The house had been keeping all the heat and happiness bottled up inside, except for a few snowballers with a lust for the icy cold feeling you get when a snowball hits you square in the back of the neck and drips down your back, but they had all gone inside a long time ago. Presently a car came up the hill, its tires slipping a bit here and there, but making it despite the adverse conditions for driving. The car pulled into the already over filled driveway, and a young man got out. His face looked about twenty or so, but it had that curious, utterly contented look that usually only comes to a person after a lifetime of joyful marriage. The man and that curious face made their way up the steps to the house, and quietly inserted themselves into that festive gathering.

Hanging up his coat on one of the already overfilled pegs in the hallway, he walked into living room. He was greeted by surprised and happy exclamations, and he returned them with merry hellos and how are yous. He wandered from room to room, inquiring, Have you seen a certain person? but no one had. Finally he came to a room at the back of the house. As soon as he opened up the door, a guilty silence came over the room. That feeling that comes when the witnesses to something suddenly realize they should have done their duty and intervened, but did nothing. Anyway, in the middle of the room were a young man and woman, kissing fiercely underneath the mistletoe. The intruder stepped forward and said, "I made it! And I see you've met a new friend." She quickly pushed her mistletoe lover away and responded, "Oh, um, I can't believe you got in! I thought your flight was canceled?" "I did too, but they decided to try it. Can I talk to you?" She left the other man underneath the mistletoe, and followed her fiance out of the room. They walked to the front hall and collected their coats, and made their way outside.

They started walking aimlessly, in no particular direction, but eventually, they found their way to a line of pine trees, cut off from view of the house. Tired, she sat down on the garden bench underneath one of the trees, while he remained standing. She watched his back as he watched the stars, then let her eyes drop as he began to speak.

"You should know, I still love you. I don't care what reason you had for kissing him; if you had one and what it was are nothing to me. I love you, and that's all that matters. Love connects you to someone in a way that is so deep, so strong, there is no way we can even comprehend it. If we were to die right now, and you were sent to Heaven, and I was sent to punishment in Hell, my voice would ring out across that great void between the two realms, and I would be happy, knowing, even as I burn, that you can hear my voice and I can still speak to you and tell you I love you. Love. I would give everything I can for our love. If I had all the power in God's universe, and could smite all life or make all the suns go out at once with a blink of my eye, I would do it without a thought for the consquences if you wished me to. I would undergo more pain than my physical body can bear; I could not be happy without you, even in paradise. What does it matter to me if you kiss one man; what does it matter if you make love to a thousand? I Love you, I've welded our souls together, and if you stray or if you stay by my side, it will change nothing between us. I know what it is like to be God, for my love for you closes in upon the Love He has for all His people. I Love you."

She replied, "I must have had too much eggnog; anyway, just before you came into the room, it was he who came up as I was walking under the mistletoe and kissed me." She began to cry, and he moved with infinite care and tenderness to comfort her.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Smile, Princess Suzy

Oh, just smile/I want you to smile, princess Suzy/The lords and ladies are anxiously waiting/Oh smile lovely Suzy/Shower the kingdom in sunshine and roses/Smile, princess Suzy

Oh happy lovely Suzy/She's the Queen's little girl(God save the Queen!)/Dear precious Suzy/She's the King's whole world(God save the King!)/The hopeful princes gather/From out of far off lands/They all come together/To kiss her dainty hands/God save Princess Suzy!

But the princess Suzy/Is sad and dismayed/Her pretty pet piggy was shot in a glade/He was roaming in the forest, and was mistaken for a boar/Shot in the side, never to grunt no more/Smile princess Suzy, though thee be sad/And your pretty face/Shall make the world glad

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Smile On Ice

Whenever I see your smiling face/I have to smile myself/Because I love you, yes I do/But at the very moment when I smile at you/You turn my whole world blue/'Cause you're ice/You're cold/You're the one I want to hold/But if I do, I might freeze on you/And never
be able to let go

You're so beautiful/The world should obey whatever you say/But it won't, because nature doesn't work that way/But you can still freeze it, that's true/'Cause every time I look at you/My breath stings in my lungs/My heart skips a beat/My skin grows cold/But I'll never grow old/Because in those moments/I can feel time slowing down/The cold of your smile stops God's clock going round/The world stops for a moment/Then jumps back with a start/I can't take all this shuddering/It's making me come apart

Friday, December 01, 2006

Nothing Like You

Nothing kills like you/And the frost of your smile/You freeze my heart, tear me apart/Which is strange considering you would give anything to live my life/Being a rock star isn't a glory/It's just the world's way of punishing good musicians/Having the reporters ooh, ah, and jump over themselves/To tell the world what you were wearing when you ate dinner/And you can't make them go away/All I want is to sing to you each day/But one bad rhyme and the critics shoot me down/You don't buy my cds, cause you just listened to them to be hip/It ends the same if it's my feet that slip or my tongue/I'll try something different, because I want you to be happy/And I'm the one who has it all/Who'll never fall/And you're the one/Who's day is done/And you want my life/And I want you/But the tabloids say, "these are never true"/And my sad smile kills like you

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

My Flame, My Burn

I smell like smoke/Every time you come round/You're burning me up/I can tell because through the fire and flames/I always see you/You're the one/Every time I burn/You're oil on the flames/And you won't let me go/Because you don't even know you're holding onto me

You're burning me up/You're so hot/The heat's making me blush/Red on my cheeks/On fire in my heart/Burning up me up inside/Making me fall apart/You don't think of yourself as fire/Maybe the sea in winter/But the sea's boiling/And I'm drowning in you/Fire fills my lungs and the air I breath/When you enter the room/And the firemen have all gone home for the day/I never thought I'd feel this way/But oh the heat/Oh the flames

Please oh please/Let it rain/Put out this burning love and pain/But every time you walk into the room/You only stoke the fire more/But when night comes/You'll save me from the cold/I can freeze or I can burn/What can I do?/I can freeze or I can burn/I can't help being drawn to your flame/Freeze or burn/Let the cold claim me/Or pitch into the flame/I'm gonna burn, for calling your name

Squirrels

It is a little known fact about me, but I love squirrels. They are like little personifications of Nature, small, energetic, clever and entirely unreadable. You can't see into their heads and figure out what they are thinking; you can only guess. Actually, they seem not to even think. Just as the wind and the waves of the sea are unthinking moving parts of Nature, squirrels dash about, but seem to have only the harmony of Nature behind them as a driving force. Interesting little tree rats. Although, if you look hard, you might be able to see the dragon inside them.

Monday, November 27, 2006

You're The End Of My Life

You're the end of my life
As I walk down life's path
I'm standing on a hill
And I can see the end of my life
It's far away, thank goodness
Yet closer than I might have expected
Heart disease, well
I've tried to eat healthy, but it looks like it didn't work out
But the grandkids are thick, crowding the hospital room
And those must be my children, thankfully they all have
Some of my physical traits
But who is that beside me?
Who is holding my hand?
You? It's you? But you...
I don't understand
We were friends from when I was little
But then it became something more
Only to slid away like sand
You were lost to me
You? How can it be you?
I'm happy, but I don't understand
I guess the only thing to do
Is wait and see
How it came to be
That you're the end of my life

Sunday, November 26, 2006

C.D.

I have some news. Most of my posts have been "lovesickyish" ones. Due to recent life changes, my focus has shifted off of these matters, and more to the goal of totally dominating life. I've vowed not to let love, hate or friendship drag me down. Why should you let love for a person grab you and smash you into the gutter? Love can ruin your life. And why should you let someone's hate of you push you down? You have no reason to just lie down; stand strong and don't fall. And I'm not willing to sacrifice my health, happiness and future for the sake of sinking down to share a friend's misery. Instead this is what I plan to do. I'm focusing on achieving the best life I can, and I'm not giving it up if the person I choose to get ensnared in love with is on a lower level of life. Instead, the only option is for me to help her up. If someone hates me; well, nuts to them. They can't bring me down, so it's like they don't even exist. And I won't go down for friends; I can only lift them up. My philosophy towards life can be summed up in two little words: carpe diem. Latin words, both of them. Seize the day. Grab it, and never let it go. If you're not daring, if you don't let everyone know what you think of them, if you don't stretch the limits of the life cut out for you, you might end up with an ok life. An average one. Nothing special. Just like you. Ok. Average. Not special. People who are beyond what you think possible for them didn't get that way by being passive. C.D. and not compact disc. Carpe Diem, seize the day, or else you'll never be the way you want to. Burn those words into your brain. Sear them on the surface of your gray thinking matter. You only have the rest of your life, so hurry up and get living! Always stay the way you were, only a little better than you were. Remember; C.D.

Friday, November 24, 2006

Carpe Diem

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

(I'm Getting) Closer (To What I Really Want To Say)

It didn't end that night
In fact it just started
You're stuck in my heart
And you'll have to kill me to make me give up
I'll turn off all of the lights
And try to tell you how I feel
But I can't put it the way I want with words
At least, none you've heard
I'd die for you
I'd throw myself off the edge of the world
Or off a cliff, or down the stairs
I can't control the way I feel for you
If I could I wouldn't be writing this
But you're the only thing I think about
And the only person
I'd turn off the lights
If you prefer the dark
I could extinguish the sun, because nothing's impossible for me to do
If I'm doing it for you
Why am I doing this to us?
I'm doing it even though I still know that it won't work
For the rest of them, and you
You just don't love me cause you don't know who I am

Just Another Poem (Cause That's What I'm Here For)

Have I said all I want to?
Have I done everything I could?
If so, why do I feel the same
Why am I still living under the same old name?
What went wrong, or did I not give it time to go right?
What makes you fear the night?
The time when your world goes dark
And you're all alone, I've hit the mark
You don't want to be alone
You want someone to be with you
In your mind, anyway
You want someone to be thinking of you
Every moment of every day
You need someone to need you
For it to wreck her life if you go away
And you'll never leave her
Cause your life wouldn't ever be the same
The sun would have dropped from the sky
And the moon would have given up and died
Poets can never find the right words to say
To complete their passions, for they were made that way
(Can't you please guess, guess what I'm trying to say?)

Sunday, November 19, 2006

My Heaven

When this world gets too hard to take
When you can't make it slide
Sometimes you have to make your own Heaven
You're having a bad time
The one you had last night
Reheated and ready to serve
But you can't take it again
So you take out your Heaven
This world gets hard to take
That's a fact of life and death
But your Heaven can always come
Come on in and replace the world
A mental medication
My little slice of Heaven
Oh, my very own Heaven
You're my own little slice of Heaven
That's you
My Heaven

Friday, November 17, 2006

Someone Else's Song

I don't know how to start this song/All the beginnings have been taken/I'm the latest lovestruck lad/To decide to write a love song/But all of its been said before/All these words have been sung/Before they were original/This comes just after the last original one

You can guess at the love I feel for you/You hear it every day on the radio/And on your cds at home/I want to tell you in a way to impress/But every line I want to sing/Fall Out Boy has the copyright on/I can't put it into my own words/'Cause they were stolen out of my mouth before I even thought of them/This is someone else's song

What it comes down to/I love you very much/And I can't say it in a new way/Or one to hit the charts/'Cause this is just a teenage heartache/Loverboy's heartbreak song/But the words were wrote wrong/It's all already been said/This is someone else's song

Thursday, November 16, 2006

For Every Boy...

For every boy with a whole heart
There's a girl with beauty and a gun
And for every lonely girl
There are five boys who promise to be the
Perfect one
Maybe you won't find out
Maybe I won't be found out
Love breaks hearts
Causes false starts
And can't you see what you mean to me
Can't you bear to see what's there
I hope you'll understand
When I kneel and take your hand
'Cause for every boy with a whole heart
There's a girl with beauty and a hammer
And for every girl with a broken heart
There are five boys who want to put back a part

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

I Know, or, Golden Deal

Think of your friends. I know you have them; everyone has friends, and no one is completely immune to the friendly bug. Now, do you have a friend with a golden deal on life? You know, someone who everything seems to right for. Like the world finds some compassion in its heart, and grants them happiness. They have their own little troubles, but they are not affected by them. They stay rays of sunshine, letting their friends and family be rewarded by their presence. These Golden Dealers are not egocentric, nor are they nasty. They are, on the contrary, unusually nice. People love to know them. But there is one funny thing about them: They are never Golden Dealers to themselves. They may recognize that they are lucky or blessed, but they don't see themselves as having a Golden Deal on life.

I know what it's like, knowing a Golden Dealer. I also know what it's like to have a bronze deal on life. But I can use alchemy, and turn my bronze to gold. If you want to too, all you have to do is become perfectly content with your life. That's both easier and harder than it sounds. Most of your life might be easy to accept, but there is bound to be something you'll have to work on. Or maybe not. You might have perfect contentment on Earth right in front of you. If you do, you are lucky. You are a veritable leprechaun, that's how lucky you are. But for all the Golden Dealers, stay sunny, and spread your sunshine around to make the world a better place. And for all you people down in the dirt; I know how you feel, and if you dig a little, you might find gold.

A Song, Not A Lament

I'd have done something before/If I'd only known/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

I should've seen it coming/Should've read the signs/Understood what was being said/With those trifling words/If only, if only/I could have heard/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

Maybe we'll meet again someday/In a foreign city, far away/Or maybe at the coffee shop down the street/I would give it all to heaven, should we meet/But time trudges on/And hopes flutter down/To land upon the dirt/With hardly a sound

Monday, November 13, 2006

Feeling So Good, Look Out World

It's coming on again
That flying high feeling
When the world's rolling too fast and you're falling off the edge
You know you're just setting yourself up to come down
Cause no one deserves to be that happy
And the world won't let it stand
But that one instant makes it all worth while
When you feel you can't go wrong when you know you will and you don't
And who can tell you what to do? you're king of the world
The laws of physics were made to be broken
All these words were made to be spoken
Now just to pick between all these one true loves
Dark eyed crows and white doves
They say just wing it, mine aren't ready yet
But the edge is coming up
Gotta pick, might be sick
But who can stop me?
I'm king of the world

I'd Make You A Sandwich

  • Don't be afraid of anything I say
  • I wouldn't want you to feel that way
  • I'm almost a stranger, I'm a strange friend
  • One who never wants our friendship to end
  • Oh, I think you're lonely, I hope you are
  • Cause that's the only way I'll get to you
  • Crying at night, I think I hear you crying too
  • Or is it the sound of the wind in the trees
  • Oh wind, carry her words to me
  • Be our messager, give us the air to speak
  • But maybe you don't want me
  • Maybe I'm not what you want from life
  • Well then, tell me what it is so I can find it for you
  • I would get you gold, jewels, anything you choose
  • I'd make you a sandwich, make you a world
  • Make the heavens tumble down
  • What would you have me do?
  • I think that it'd be too much to hope for
  • For you to ask me to love you

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Dead Poets Society

Last night I watched the movie "The Dead Poets Society" for the first time. Amazing. It is a very powerful movie. It didn't carry a message that was super clear, that anyone who just happened to watch the movie could see. The message required you to discover what it was, and you can only do that if you tap into the poet inside you. It's there, you just have to find it.

One of the messages in the movie is the fact that almost all men and boys have poets inside them. It's just that the poet usually gets pushed away. But he is there. Men make themselves into something other than what they should be. They should be poets, lovers, dreamers and romantics. They should look beyond their physical selves and appreciate the creative genius inside themselves. Inside each teenage boy, fueled by passion and every other emotion it's possible to have, lurks a maker of worlds, a charmer of women, a painter of beautiful paintings. Someone who dreams, and carries those dreams into the "real" world. Inside the boy who runs by himself on the football field; he has one of the most influential novels ever written, a bible of emotional rather than spiritual revelations. The middle aged man who works hard every day to support his family; he holds poems inside that could bring he and his wife back to the days when they were young and courted by the schoolyard wall. Why does this happen? This wasting of talent for the sake of "being a man." Wouldn't a real man be tapping into the revelations inside him? Or would he blindly turn away from that to a dumb, silent reactionary world? Why? Why do they sacrifice their poets for the chance to be a crude brute?

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Little Girl With The Dusky Eyes

Hey little girl/With the dusky eyes/Holding inside her secret surprise/Hey little girl/Your innocence blinds/Hold it, keep it, deep inside/As you grow and start to know/Of all the dark and terror/Don't forget the little girl inside/Who watched the world with dusky eyes

Friday, November 10, 2006

Old Tales

Snow falls down onto the city
Silencing our "advanced" society
Hushing the cars and the noise
The city falls asleep
Inside homes, some old fathers
And mothers turn out the lights
And tell tales that their grandparents told them
Who heard it from their grandparents who heard it from theirs
Going back until the tales were born in far off lands
In the bitter grip of winter
When legends were told for the first time
By the ones who saw them themselves
The elves walking through the snow
While the wind blows and shadows move
Across the snow
Creeping out of corners into the hearts of their people
The superstitious ones, the tale tellers
The ones who ruin our children
Who fill their heads with nonesense
But the children listen to the tales
And then they leave; one there, two there
Until only a few are left
These last few are the talelisteners
The dreamers unconfined by science
And laws made by it
They know that in the winter science dies
And they listen to the oldest tales
While their parents shudder from behind the door
Then the dreamers, the tale believers go out into the snow
To look for elves and unknown things
That lurk in winter's darkness
The dreams flee them just beyond their sight
I hear them outside my window
For I'm a taleteller, a superstitious one
And magic is real in the heart of winter
And in the hearts of the dreamers

Would The Man In The Back Please Stand Up, or, Yo, What's Up?

Ever notice how there are always people in the back? At anything from, say, a rock concert to a seminar on how to chop wood, there is always a back row. Same thing with peace and equality. Everyone is not on the same level. In a world where everything is happy and peaceful, and everyone is equally important and given the same rights, there will always be a secret percent of the population that will be downtrodden and controlled. It's human nature: you stand taller if you're standing on someone else. Slavery and servitude will never be gone, but they can be pushed away for while. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep over the condition of the world? Well, stop it. What does the world care for a single person's tears. They are non existent. A better way to spend your time would be to try and change the world. But the inertia of Homo Sapiens is impressive. A better strategy for changing it would be walking along with it in a slight curve, rather than trying to make it go backwards. A slight curve will bring you where you want to be sooner or later. But back to the man in the back. He's sitting there, listening to the music and learning how to chop wood. He wants to be in the limelight, but, he's at the back. No chance for him to be in front. When suddenly he sees the rockstar/lumberjack gesture at him, and seems to hear him say "Hey, man in the back! Get up here!" He slowly trods up to the stage and climbs on. And he can't believe it when the rockerjack says to him, "So, what's up?"

Thursday, November 09, 2006

You might not know, and I sure don't

You don't know what it's like
To be taken down by someone who should've lifted you up
Well neither do I
And you've never had a messy breakup that's screwed you up for years
Well I can't talk, and I can't tell you what it's like
To mess up your chance at happiness
Or be embedded in a dead-end relationship that won't give you room to turn around
Cause I've never had any of those happen to me
I've been standing on the sidelines
Off of center stage
Watching from the hallway
Dodging the love and rage
Maybe I should step in
I could pick up the beat pretty quick
But a dancer needs a partner
And I haven't found one yet

Follow The Piper

Can you hear that sweetly singing song
Beware, tis the piper
If a tall thin man comes strolling along
Beware, tis the piper
With his checked coat and his ancient flute
He plays a song so sweetly
But do not listen, do not stop
For he can make your will to drop
He'll lead you blindly on into the unknown
If you do this it's doubtful you will return home
Not to demonize him, no
He just goes where he wants to go
Playing for his own amusement- Lo!
I hear a flute, I must go

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

The Ever-successful Enterprizes Of The Enemies Of Edna, or, Life Sunny Side Up

In leading your life, you occasionally make mistakes. Like every other minute, for example. The mistake that is easiest to make on a blog is, NOT SHOWING THE REAL YOU! I yelled that just to show how important it is. When you record your personality onto another medium besides your mind, you invariably focus on one aspect of it. Most often you dwell on the negative. Many people use blogs to unburden themselves of bad things that happened to them during that day. Feeling satesfied with that, they don't bother to record their happy moments. That can mislead people to a dangerous extent. If you have a "miserable" blog, be sure to include some of the happy things in your life, so then you will save the rest of us some worry. Hm, I feel a poem coming on

Life in real life is a mixture most lovely
Full of sunshine, rainy days and alliteration
But on the internet it becomes a tragic play
That threatens to end itself each day
To paint a clearer picture
Erase some of the blur
Make your sunshine brighter on your blog
Ensure that the rainclouds don't wallow like hogs
That wasn't a good rhyme, but look I'm not sad!
I can transpose it all, the good and the bad

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

So Sad And Lonely, or, Poor Little Person

Today I was thinking about a certain percent of the population. It belongs to no particular race, or gender. It covers all types of people. It's the sad and lonely people. You know, the kind that gives off the illusion of being happy, but if you happen to catch them by themselves, they always have a sad face on. They may be physically attractive, have great personalities, and be the kind of person who everyone likes. But inside they are gloomy, because they are all by themselves. Something is missing from them. In some of them it is the inability to form romantic relationships, in others they can't go beyond a superficial friendship. They long for companionship, but don't know how to vocalize their longings. If they aren't broken beyond repair in their younger years, (read teenage) they grow up to be the "lone wolf" type of person. Strong seeming, not liable to sharing their feelings, often involved in artistic things. They can be poets, rockers, painters, anything that will allow them to shunt their longings and emotions into another place. Or they just come crashing down, to fall off center stage and into the background. Someone who is known by many people, but plays a part in no life but theirs. They can be so sad and lonely, those poor little people.

HAHAHAH- Not Funny

Today I started a new blog, to contain all of my funny that never makes it onto this one. You can find it at its uniform resource locator. Go ahead, see if you can find it. I dare you.

(p.s.) I will continue to update this blog. I still love it. And I will keep it going for hopefully years to come.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

When Will It Be Me?

The eternal question I can never ask
When will it be me?
When will the clouds be brushed away
Would you love me?
The desperate question I so want to ask
Which makes me fall in fear
Do you love me? could you love me?
Is what I want to ask
I could love you, I would love you
But someone would need to ask
I'd put your name into this line
And wait for love to bloom
But I can't do that, no I can't
I don't know if your heart has room
For a poor lonely soul like I
I know I should ask
But your "no" would make me cry
Or, perhaps, die.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

So, A Funny Thing Happened On The Flight Into Town...

I have an announcement to make. I've switched to the Beta Blogger! I made the change after I realized I was an hour late to a friends house, and when I called to say I was coming, he was just going out the door. I was really bored after that, so I decided to upgrade my blog. And I like it! Lot'sa new features, and just... nicer. So, yeah, there ya go. Just wanted to tell my loyal friends why everything suddenly turned blue... Reassure them that, no, it's not the water.

Friday, November 03, 2006

I can calm your fear

Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of the night
Well, I can calm your fear
I've spent many nights out in the cold
And baby there's nothing out there
Nothing that I would let touch you anyway
Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of war
Well, I've fired guns and bathed in blood
To keep it away from here
And I can calm your fear
Little lady
Pretty baby
You say you're afraid of death
Well, I've died every night with my heart froze tight
For a love that isn't here
And little lady
Pretty baby
I'd love to calm your fear

Thursday, November 02, 2006

On Relationships Between People or Why You Gotta Be So $#$% Mean?

Something I've noticed over time is the tendency of people to conceal their feelings toward other people. Deception is part of the recipe in almost every relationship, from coworkers, to children and their parents, to close friends. Maybe you hide the fact that your friend sets you on edge with that strange noise he makes when he's about to say something. Or you have to conceal the fact that you're strongly attracted to your coworker. I'm not standing apart from this; in fact, I would say I deceive everyone I know, in the sense that none of them, to my knowledge know exactly what I think about them. You usually try not to let someone see you, the totally real, core you. The person you are to yourself, deep down inside yourself. You don't show this person the real you, because, after all, you don't know the real person. Unfortunately, the other person uses the same logic. This ends up with all the signals getting corrupted, and everyone getting confused. You might ask someone, "Why you gotta be so #%#% mean?" when that person is desperately in love with you. You might also be entranced with someone, but for some reason or another you can't tell him or her. Deception is chaos, and also really, really hard to give up. How to fix the situation, that's the problem...

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

On Sleep And The Time Preceding It or Yaaaaaawn

Last night I was about to go to sleep, when I started thinking about it. When you think about it, the time immediately before you fall asleep is pretty unique. It's when you are sleepy enough to think about all the things you were too busy to think about during the day. Fears and doubts come rushing in, all your private worries. But then the happy moments slip in, far too few, but comforting all the same. You think about your failures, and your successes. Then, as you look out the window, you see the stars, and think about who is the light in your life. You think of your hopes, of what you could be if given the chance. Wondering about your life. Wondering about other peoples lives. Wondering if a certain someone is thinking of you, and realizing that, no, she's not. She's thinking of someone else, but you know why. Oh well, you sigh to yourself, and turn to something else. You start to ponder something else, and then- You fall asleep.

Snow

The winter snow falls down
White crystals filling the air
I'm walking through it
Thinking of you without a care
The ice she clings to my hair
And makes me cold outside
But my love is like a fire within
Thawing my frozen hide
I have to yell and shout suddenly
My thoughts of you overpowering me
I run through the woods
My heart bursting with the delight of life
I come out of the woods, a long way still to go
The wind kicks up, and so does the snow
It blocks my sight and makes me cold
Confuses me as where to go
But your fire that I hold inside
Will be my dancing tempting guide

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

A Call To Beloved

I die every night when I lay down to sleep
And miss your presence beside me
I cry and I weep when I wake from sleep
For the hurt that's inside me
I plead with my inside image of you
Plead with you to come back to me
I know this can never happen though
For you are happily unfree
Chained with bands of gold and jewels
To the man you love
I'd give up everything I own
To be that man you love
But to you I was just warmth to watch movies with
Not the answer to your wish
Oh how I want to call out to you
And tell you that you're my beloved
And if I broke the bands of gold
Which would mean breaking your happiness
Something I would never do
If only, if only
Then I would be loved

Monday, October 30, 2006

Sometimes a Lover, Sometimes in Pain

I'm looking for you
Well, not in particular
Just for someone to love
But in my heart I know it's true
You're the one I love
And I'm sliding down a steep slope
But you can stop my fall
I'm looking for love
But I just keep running into a wall
Oh save me, save me
You're my only hope now
You're my only hope now

Well, not true, I guess
For in this world all things pass
And perhaps it's just a petty human love
Of no concern to the sky above
Well nuts to the sky
Nuts to the cynics
I'd die for my love
Or give up my freedom at least
To be painfully honest
Usually the heart is weaker than the will
I hope that you won't draw bad conclusions
Because I know people don't like their honors shattered
Well, I don't mean to break anything
You don't do that when you're broken
And this poem is just avoiding
The words that I want spoken

On The Nature Of Good And Evil or Help! I Need Somebody

Pretend you come home, or wherever, only to find a friend or family member engaged in an unacceptable activity. Would you say what they are doing is evil? Maybe you replied yes to that question; maybe you didn't. If someone does something "bad" or "evil", is their only reason for doing it to be "bad" or "evil"? What if the want of something good makes a person turn to bad things? Perhaps you say that that situation cannot exist. Well, what if a person desperately needs love, but cannot for some reason or another find it? He or she might turn to drugs, or pornography, or something else to console his or her self. He or she probably doesn't want to engage in these behaviors; but to the person the temptation overwhelms them, because they believe they have no other place to turn to for comfort. They eventually begin to despise their own situation, which makes them less successful than they were before at getting whatever they needed. In response to this they unwillingly cling to their vice all the tighter. These people can't manage to help themselves; all they can manage to do is hurt themselves. If you know someone in trouble, do what you can to save them, because inside themselves they are saying "Help! I need somebody!" but they can't do a thing about it; it's up to you.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Poem That

I was walking down the street
When guess whom I should meet

My secret admiree's boyfriend
Who is goth, and there his description
Should end
But to continue the poem
Lest I should roam
And ignore what happened next

"I've read your blog, you stupid hog"
He angrily growled at me
His foul breath rushed past me
As he did say, "I understand your metaphors
And I think you're in trouble, for they work this way.
You want my girlfriend, I'm not giving her up,
You better run off, you sad pup."
He snorted and said "poem that"
I hit him square in the back with my hat
He came after me, and we had a scrap
I came off the winner, and I'm glad to poem that

Thursday, October 26, 2006

I Don't Want To Be Me

I don't want to be me
It happens occasionly
When I stop to think blue thoughts
And cut them free
Why I'm I me?
Somebody else could play the part better
I'm just learning how to act
And I haven't learned my lines
Somebody else want to be me?
It would be a great service
It would set me free
And give me time to refine
My whole act

But the director and playwright
Says I'll be fine
And tells me to go on stage
No one can fill in
But I don't want to be me
Or that's what my blue thoughts
Tell me
But my sunshine ones
Disagree

On The History Of Monkeys or Attack Of The Hormone-Crazed Teenagers

Once upon a time two young monkeys were leaping through the jungle, when they came upon a fruit. They fought over it and knocked the fruit to the jungle floor, where it went "splat" and was ruined. A year passed and the monkeys were leaping through the jungle again, when the boy monkey noticed something about the other monkey; namely, she was a girl. They fought over the fruit, yadda yadda yadda, "splat", yadda yadda yadda. Another year passed, and the monkeys were, yet again, leaping through the jungle, and this time the boy monkey let his female friend take the fruit. She promptly took it and called him stupid, and he was ashamed. They went off through the jungle. Yet another Gregorian calendar year passed, and the monkeys were still doing their monkey business. But a change had occurred in the boy monkey; he was large, pimply and stinky. When the got to the fruit, the boy monkey picked it and handed it to the girl monkey. Then, after she finished eating the fruit, the boy monkey asked, to his confusion, for he didn't even know what it meant, "ooh ohh, ahhaha k." Which in monkey language means, "Wanna make out?" The girl monkey slapped him, and said (I've already translated it) "You don't even know what that means, do you? Well I am disgusted, and I want you to know that if you try anything like that again, we're only leaping through the jungle in groups. Got it?"

Moral: Teenagers are stupid. Except for most of the females. But some times hormones take advantage of the stupidity of the teenager, and make them do something that they don't want to do. Moral of moral: Don't always blame teenagers. Sometimes blame their hormones. Moral of the moral of the moral: Never trust hormone-crazed teenagers. They will bite without provocation.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

What's with guys? or A Masculine Question

I've been stating it for some time, but I've never really thought about it. But now I'm saying loudly, (sort of) and here it is: What's with guys? This is an interesting question, at least from my point of view. Ok, guys. Well, first issue is that they're mostly jerks. Perhaps "mostly" isn't right, "a great deal," would probably be more accurate. Seriously, when you're friends with most guys, they show their friendship through insults, physical violence, and rudeness. Not "friendly" behavior. Second, they're sissies. When it comes to telling someone what their completely honest opinion of that person is, they whimp out. It's all just "I dunno" and blantant lies. Maybe a little honesty would be nice now and again. Another "sissie" thing is their lack of guts with girls. Often I've heard one of my female friends say things like "I would totally melt if a guy said something like that to me," and as unfortunate as it might be to those friends, it is very unlikely that that will happen. Guys turn tail and hide, or just can't manage it, every time a sweet nice idea comes into their heads. They are just too scared and insecure to say what they want to. There is a poet and a romantic inside every guy, it's just that the poemantic persona gets squashed down by most guys to the best of their ability.

Now, this doesn't have to do with guys, but I like shouting my opinions to the world, so here goes. I LIKE GIRLS BETTER THAN GUYS! Yes, it's true, I'm a "sissy whimpo girly boy." And I don't care! I prefer the company of the gals to that of the guys for several reasons, which for the curiosity of my readers I will list. 1. Girls are nicer to look at. Yeah, I can't believe I just said that either. But, it's true, so there. I would rather be sitting in silence with nothing to do in the company of girls than in the company of guys. If you approach it objectively, most girls keep a higher standard of personal hygiene than the average guy. They also are prettier. 2. Girls are less sarcastic and mean than most guys. If a guys shows another guy some poetry he wrote, he is probably going to get blasted. On the other hand, girls are likely to be more supportive of such efforts. 3. And lastly for the time being, girls are so, so much nicer in nearly every respect than guys. They are a pleasure to spend time with, and are very easy to talk to. They can also be trusted to be good, silent witnesses to you if you need to unload something. Well, there you go. That should settle any questions about me being sexist. <;) Plus, that allowed me to yell collectively at guys, and air out some of the complaints I had. That's all f' now folks!

Sunshine

Come on raincloud
Look at the sun
Surprise, she's coming up again
The world's still there
We're still alive
Let's go running
Into the sunflowers
Great big fields of them
They're waking up again
Come on raincloud
The sun doesn't hurt
Open up your
eyes
Your misery and depression?
Well, I love to tell you
They really don't matter
Yeah they really don't matter anyway
But you should try sunshine
Makes you feel ok

Monday, October 23, 2006

If She Could Only See

(the poem/song below is a rewrite of part of a song by the band Tonic. I just changed a couple words, but I'm not stealing it. The song belongs entirely to whoever has the copyright, which is certainly not me.)

If she could only see
The way
I love her
Maybe she would understand
Why I feel this way
About
My love
And what I must do
If she could only see
How blue
Her eyes could be if she says
If she says she loves me

Sunday, October 22, 2006

If you watch the sun,

your eyes burn out, but for one brief moment the world lights up like never before.

Waiting For A Life

I'm sitting here waiting for my heart to start
For the breath to come back into my lungs
I've been thinking of you but I'm growing dizzy
Hoping you could kickstart me with your love
But that's not going to happen
I've seen the future, it said run
But I can't, I'm hiding
From the world, from everyone
I wanted more than I have right now
Right now I'm wanting for love evermore
But I'm just waiting, waiting, waiting
For the breath to blow up into my face
And my heart to respond to your embrace
And I'm waiting for the light to change
Waiting for your light to arrange
Waiting for my life to change
Waiting for a change
Waiting for a life

(part two)

But my heart didn't start
My breath fled away
Thoughts of you couldn't save me
Maybe you could have if you'd been there
But you weren't
I was laid in the grave
Save me, you didn't
But you were there
Watching me down in dirt
Did you cry? I did
When I died for you
For want of you
For want of light
For want of change
For wanting my life to arrange
Its self into a form inviting your love
Wanting for a life

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Maybe I Should Scream

(a poem)

Dunno why you whine
Like a spoiled little child
Spoiled children, people love them
Relations anyway
But
Love counts
But not much
When, like me, all that you can get is what you've
Scraped off the sidewalk
And pulled out of the gutter
Then life starts to look up
With this shiny refurbished love in your hands
When the owner comes along and recognizes it
Pulls it from your hands with words of thanks
The miserable bum
Maybe I'm a poet and a lover
But not a very good one
Maybe I should cry
Maybe I should scream

Sitting here typing or Why the world was round

Hm. I wonder why I'm doing this. I have things to do, chores, mostly. I have to clean like crazy because my sister's baptisim is tomorrow,and the house is a mess. Then tonight I'm serving at church, and after that I have to quick eat so I can get to the party I'm going to tonight before it ends.
Why am I typing? I'd better stop.

Friday, October 20, 2006

Wondering about things or Things about wondering

Hm. Well, I'll have to face it. Tonight I killed Jack. Captain Jack Sparrow. My friends and family will know what I mean. But for the rest of you, I'll explain. I used to do a Captain Jack impression that rivaled Johnny Depp's (or I like to think it did.) But anyway, this night I was in full flow. I had a bandanna, tri-corner hat, unmarked bottle full of cider and a cork stuck into the bottle. But then certain of my "friends" started to knock me down and steal the hat, the bandanna, the bottle and the cork. After a while I had had enough of their harassment, and I tried to make them stop, but they refused to. I made a fatal decision. I decided to kill Jack. I took a plastic pirate gun, put to my temple, said my last goodbye in Jack's voice, walked away and shot myself. I fell to the ground, then got up and Jack was no more. Maybe some day, when the third movie comes out, and I see how and if he comes back, I'll wake him up, but for now... Goodbye Jack. It was fun.

Strange really. You don't think about life until it nails you in the face, knocks you to the ground and spits on you. But when it does, you get up, and realize that there's no going back. It's all over really. If your life before was great, or if it was horrible, it's gone. The change can be a "good" or "bad" thing, but it will still turn you upside down. Meeting someone that catches your heart and won't let go, even though you've already dedicated it to someone else. Finding out a friend is in the hospital with a terminal illness. Change. It happens. And you better flow with the punches or you'll be lying on the ground gasping, and you may never get up. Change. It kills. It kills the old you, and you can't do a single %@#$ thing about it. Makes a new you, sure, but that takes a while to get used to. Makes you want to lie down in the grass and close your eyes and let the sunshine wash over you, while the sunflowers nod their pretty heads above you, and you talk with the person you love, and tell them how you feel with words of beauty... Yeah, like that'll ever happen. A more realistic paradise would be sitting on the curb at night while a cold wind blows, with the street light glowing above you, sitting with the person who doesn't know you love her, and talking about anything but what you want to. Sometimes your view of the world can change everything, most often the world just goes on and doesn't give a dime or even a penny for your thoughts and views. Pretty useless, in a pretty way. Angst is real; deal with it.

I got you roses or Dead boy's dying gift

(this is a song I wrote last night)

Girl, I got you roses/Your favorites/Blue and white/Or that's how they
look to me/I'm fading/But girl I got you roses/Picked them myself/Got pricked by a thorn/I'm bleeding/Hey girl, roses/I wanted to show you my love with roses/Hey girl, I got you roses/I'm dying

It is, as far as I can make out, about a shy boy with a terminal illness, and on the day when he is certain, absolutely certain, that he will die, he goes out and picks some roses for the girl he loved, and he can only do that on his dying day because he was too shy to tell her he loved her before.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

On bitterness and love or occupational hazards of having emotions

As I was walking my dog something occured to me. It is interesting how when you love someone, and offer your heart to them, but they refuse or don't even notice, you don't become bitter. You may have bitterness inside you, but you never show it to your beloved, because she is your beloved. The bitter feelings, anger, sadness, bitterness and confusion, grow inside you, but you would not harm the person you love with them. Instead they come spinning out at the people you know, and at the world. You blame the world for your troubles, and blast it with your hate. Then the hate is spent, the world is angry at you, and it all starts over again. Gotta find a way to break the cycle, otherwise you'll end up on the bad side of depression. Hm. Yup. Depression stinks. All those emotions, spinning around, crashing into each other and causing nasty messups... Wow... Kinda shocking, but it doesn't really matter. After all, this is just a philosophical babble that may not have any real-world purpose.

Well well well.

If what I think is correct, you cannot post audio files to your blog using blogger. This has made me sad. Oh well. I can still show off my pics and poems. Hm. It's sad though. Not being able to show everyone my audio shows. I can do some mean stuff with Garageband.


Below I will post an improvisational poem. Mine, all mine! No stealing got it?


Makes ya wonder don't it
Wonder how I live
All alone, as far as you know
All alone, by himself
Well I do
Live alone
By myself
Not the way I would have it, oh no
I would have my life bursting with love, sound and color
But
Not the way it panned out
Makes me wonder, ya know
Wonder if it's the world, or if it's just me

A couple thoughts on food or Foud Fore the Idiot's Thouht

It occurs it me that food is really wonderful. If you go down to the bottom of the issue, food is just atoms, making up molecules, which make up compounds and such. If just a couple proteins and molecules were changed, your lunch could be a poisonous substance that would cause instant death. But if you boil a mushroom, it no longer is poisonous. If you cook meat, our stomachs can handle it. Molecular changes happen on the stove. In the oven. Microwaves are powerful strong science, allowing us to heat water molecules in our food to cook it without flame. Food is scientific.

But on the other hand, food can have a negative effect. Soda and Cheetos are food, but if you live on a diet of prepackaged, preserved, flavored souless food, you're probably going to turn out dumb. Your brain can't thrive on cardboard and air. Hm. Cardboard and air. A lot like stage props in plays. You shouldn't eat those either. Yes, almost everything has the potential to be food, but almost everything isn't.

Bright Flowers

I took this pic on vacation. It looked kind of average on the camera, but when I loaded it onto the computer it became really cool. I added the antique setting to it with iPhoto.

Well... This is cool.

Well... This is cool. I have a blog! Never thought this would happen... Well, anyway, this is where I will show off my poems, photographs, song lyrics, audio projects and occasionally babble incoherently, or, as I like to think of it, give my learned thoughts on a variety of subjects. Hey, that made me think of something. Wouldn't it be lovely if we all didn't have to go to work each day, if we just each had to do an hour of work, and then we could simply create all kinds of beauty and art. Think of just making music all day, or writing poetry, or writing stories. Wouldn't the world be a better place if all the soldiers could lay down their swords, become poets, and pick up pens?

Hhhhmmmm. Food for thought, I guess. Like fish. Food for your brain. Although, is that just a bit of old advice that doesn't really work? Cause there's mercury in big fishes, and that can mess with a child's development. Hhhmmm. Maybe just a variety of healthy food is brain food. Oh well. With that interesting interlude, it's back to rubbing your nose against the grindstone, or what ever industrious people do.