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
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
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?"
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
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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...
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
