On Success (or) Under Failure

The success that some people strive for is very different from what others long for. Same for failure. For some people success is a momentary feeling that everything is all-right, everything is ok for the moment. For others success is growing old and being able to care for their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren while living comfortably. How do they achieve their seperate ideals? Some can succeed by doing as little as picking out the perfect music to cure their bad or restless mood. Others find success by closing huge business deals. Giving hugs completes other people, while some get that good feeling by punishing bad guys. Shouting out with expression, (i.e. poetry, music) and getting a positive response works very well too. <;) Loving a person, helping them feel good. All of these things can help people get on top of success.

Failure. Something I'm in a good mood, and so don't really want to write about. Let's just say that it's when you've regressed on the path towards what you want. Or when you set your expectations so low that you don't need to work to get to them.

Well, I'll write more later. I'm off to go succeed.

Venus De Milo Couldn't Spare A Dime For Another Ten Minutes On The Parking Meter

The crowd waits to see what he'll do
Watches him exposed, nothing but bare
Like a butterfly stuck and pinned up there
A wonderful example of "gone to pot"
Few love him, some hate him
Most don't care; quite a lot
But summertime leaves all the leaves in the trees
Strangers with knives hold hugs for you and me
And it's hard to believe inspiration can lie
And it's easy to believe that I don't often try
Till suffocation makes me desperate, and onions make me cry
I smile, as I look you in the eye
And gesture at the dance floor, the fiddle starts away
Gone for a moonlight trip, a wet-grass slip
And we'll never be exactly the same as we were five seconds ago
Gramophone blues, it's all old news
And the ice in the window crawls into the inside
Crawls like death in cold-ish form
"Fill out our forms, and we'll send you to die
It's what we do, though we don't know why"
Sweet baby dream, growing up fast
Time in bed never lasts
You can't dream your way to infinity, only to tomorrow
You're the ice-cube in my glass
I'm the windows in your past

(I'm in your past, as time goes by
It's what I do, though I don't know why)

To The Young Man Building A Castle Round His Heart, Can You Lend A Trusting Ear?

A crack of a gun at the crack of dawn
A father lies, and so does his son
Staying the light, for a year or a day
They're fit for war, and so for peace
But a piece of plaster comes falling down
And splits on the stage, no one notices the sound
In the rushing and confusion
Of life's long improvised play

But my hero returns, knight gone back to the night
But I waited for you a year, I waited a day
And the bells didn't sound and the sun didn't rise
I couldn't lift my lonely shameful eyes
But I cried for the poets sent off to die
And I shed tears for the brave boys who felt they had to try
Only when the piper piped on his flute
Did I raise my head, it was an absolute
Disaster

Disaster, said he
Disaster, replied she
"We grow up not knowing who we are
Only knowing that we'll never know until it's too late
To apologize to all the lost loves and lovers lost
But we hang our head and its ache
As we pick up the dead and break
The stalemate of life, and the deadlock of strife
I take you, young lady, as my wife"
The ring upon the sun marks the exact, precise nature of all your fears
(Rhymes give you strength to face the day
Though no one knows why they work that way)

Welcome, Welcome, One And All To Walter's Literary Circus!

I'd like to start a new tradition here, at my wee bloggy blog. Guest Writer! If you write, be it full length novels, short stories or poems, Send me an example! Just email what you want posted with whatever info you feel is needed (name for you and title for piece are mandatory) and I'll put it up. However, each person only gets one guest write (I might occasionally ask for more, though <;). I'm looking forward to this new thingy-ma-bobber. I think it'll create a little, shall we say, "community" here. <8) Well, that's all for now...

I'm Supposed To Love You, Say Neurons In My Brain

I can tell by the way every poem starts with love paraphrased
That you're my one and only, true blue love
If only I knew who you are...

But when you kiss the sun, third time is the charm
Some nights the light gets so bad, I have to call the manufacturer
And ask what's the deal? and why can't I sleep over her blue-brown eyes?

I'd sing a song for you, but the show's so close to closing
I'd try to make it up to you, but I'm not in the know about knowing
<:D emoticons show emotion better than words when your lover is a million miles away

This poem was born under a bad sign
Like "Warning, Unsafe Terrain" or "Break Glass In Case Of Fire"
Still, I'm the prince of a crazy neon empire
And I walk around in my water-logged shoes, hoping for one last chance
At another last chance
The script says I'm supposed to love you
But my heart says it isn't love
It's something unusual, not something like love that I remember so well
But still, I'm supposed to love you as the words drop from my lips
And they encourage me to do or do not as the sun sets down its glow for the day
And I have no idea how or why I feel this way...
Girl, they say I'm supposed to love you, I think I might actually, really, possibly, somehow,
Love you
(But it's not bad enough to make me pick up the phone
And dial the number to connect me to your home)