Requiem for a Pipe DreamEverything seemed perfect,it just all fit into place.That is, until the day it slowlyblew up in my face.I should have know much better,seen it coming from afar,but we never truly understandhow blinded that we areby hope and need and every voidwe just can't seem to fill.However much you feed them,they just get hungrier still.I'd like to think I've finally learnedthis lesson once again,but I'm sure that I will probablybe back here now and then.
Distant ConnectionThis distant connectionDefies explanationEstablished so quicklyDespite separationEach shared momentStrengthensOur unlikely bondReaching from each sideAcross the big pond
The Snake and the SquirrelOne day, an old Burmese python was slithering through his jungle home when he passed by a pool of water. The snake turned back toward the pool to take a drink and as he approached it he saw a small, red-furred animal, eating a nut, in a forest on the other side of the water. Reflexively, the snake struck at the creature, through the water, but was abruptly met by the muddy ground beneath it. After taking a moment to come to his senses, the snake slithered around to the other side of the pool, closer to it. He carefully dipped his head into the water, but once again saw only the muck-ridden floor of the pool. As the snake was shaking his head dry, he saw the animal lift her head from her meal. The squirrel seemed to peer directly at him through the water.Distracted, the squirrel carelessly dropped the plumpy nut it was treasuring. The tasty morsel fell off and rolled down into the water. She raised her tuffs in surprise, emitted a small cry of disappointment. In an attempt to retrieve
We're ThereAnd so, at last, we've reached the inevitable end,the destination we've been chasing all along.A bittersweet resolution to everything we've doneand now, I guess, it's time to say so long.
The Myth of IndependenceYou say "hell is other people.",but where do you think you'd beif everyone around youshared your misanthropic view?Without cooperation,in a world of apathy,what exactly is itthat you think that you could do?
Brain WaveFor so long I was stuck,but then inspiration struck.I found the right idea, at lastand now I'm on my way.
So That HappenedJust when I thought that itwas over, said and done,something told me thatit's only just begun.So I took another shotand tried with all my might,I only hope that it'senough to make things right.
Misanthropic Abandon“Hell is other people”,a wise man once did sayand from where I'm standing,they can all just go away.No one is an island,but I'm damn sure going to try.They only people I want to knoware me, myself and I.
MediocrityIn the mushy middleright between loved and despised.With no distinguishing features,but potential unrealized.It leaves no lasting impression,just emphatic apathyso all that's left to sayis that there's nothing here to see.
Snow QueenShall I find thee all in ice ensnared,the tree boughs stripped, the blossoms bared,trapped in a wet and wintry grave -the blight of snow and hoarfrost shared?They brought you here, their souls enslaved.The altar where your minions prayed -a brilliant diadem of ice,the offering that your cold heart craved.They linger here whilst you enticetheir frozen limbs as sacrifice.Their wizened hands by you declaredthe chosen few who paid your price
The Defense of Gawain (Fragment 1)He brushed his wavy hair from his pale faceJust like his horse was shaking off the fliesWhile following behind. Their limping paceWas slow, although the city rang with criesSurprised from friends who thought that he was dead--But still his head slumped down, and still his eyesAnd clammy cheeks were flushed with streaking red,Though they were running, dashing to his side.And then his young brother, half-laughing, said,"Oh god, I thought--you know we thought you died?That awful task--you left, you rode away--And then did not come back. Oh, how I cried!I thought you died. On last year's new-year's dayA year since you had left, they all agreedYou must have failed your quest, but I said nay--I knew my brother Gawain would succeedAlthough it seemed to all impossible.But you did not come back, and I concedeI thought you died." And then his voice sunk lowFrom where it had been shouting in delight,And then he said: "But brother, may I know--Your hair is snarled, unkempt--yo
PianistHis fingertips splashed through the ivory keysWith ripples that scattered in rowsWhile windows bloomed petals of watery pinksEach kissing his cheeks with a glowReleasing his notes like a bird caged in springHe untangled the keys from their dinMaking sense of a sequence not meant to be seenHe etches them deep in his skin.He performs for the windows and plays for the hallsThe curtains will sway in his songThe picture frames quiver and jump from the wallsBeneath the great rush of his palms.So I open my window, before I lay restJust to capture a trace of his spawnIt's been years since I've heard it, but still I awaitfor the chime of the Pianist's song.
Losswhatshe askednot smilingshould I do nowliving with the memory of your losses?
EnigmaI am the saintYou are the sinnerI am the loserYou are the winnerI am the stormYou are the calmI am the chafeYou are the balmI wear your thoughtsYou eat my soulI'm all in piecesYou are my wholeI long for peaceYou adore warI am your virginYou are my whoreI steal emotionYou live for reasonI am too loyalYou thrive on treasonI break your heartYou bleed my mindYou say I'm gentleYou're cruel to be kind
EmoEmo*are not crybabies*do not always wear black*can be VERY nice people*do not always cut themselves*are not always depressed*can be happy too*are normal people just like you!*EMO is just a label for emotional people!that tend to fall in love easly and cry
MoonlessThe moonless eveningturns its back against the skyand leaves it empty.Perhaps the morningwill come back with its hands full,holding up the sun.
Abeo SolusFlitting heartbeat, sparrow high,twisting round the mountain's eye,tracing breath of shattered skiesand filling velvet palms.Falling sparrow, cry of stone,wings of mist and powder bonesipping, slipping from thy thronewithin their crimson throng.Treading now, beneath the cloudsAs what was once so heaven boundnow falling, falling, to the groundAnd singing silent songs.Fly no more, above the arcssinging side thy fellow Larkscurl beneath their shadows darkand sing your silent songs.Your flitting heartbeat, Sparrow high,now sings of silent songs.
WritingI write to sufferI write to feelI write when I thinkThat nothing is realI write when I'm down,And alone in my bedI write out the thoughtsBuzzing in my headI write out of fearI write out of loveI write out of heartacheTo the spirits aboveI write when in pain,Sometimes for joyI play with each wordAs if it were a toyI write some blank pagesI write on my skinI just write all overMy soul withinWritten with bloodCarved into stoneListing my sinsSo I may atoneI write in poetryI write in proseI write when I'm nothing,When my emptiness growsI write to exist,And to disappearI write when envelopedBy nothing but fearI write to speak,Let my voice be heardI write to expressEvery powerful wordI write for breathI write for meI write so that othersCan see what I seeI write when hot tearsCascade down my faceI write in frustrationAgainst life's rapid raceI write when my heartIs pounding in my ears,When emotions run high,When shedding my tearsI write to la
What was I thinking?Caught unawaresand unable to dealwith a foolish illusionthat I thought was real.A lapse in composure,a loss of control.A lifelong anomalytaking its toll.