Just a few weeks left and I can leave this place, seems like so many of the people here, even friends, are total idiots! Everyone is either hurting everyone else, making nothing out of big deals, and making big deals out of nothing. Everywhere you look it's just complicated and hurtful, even among your friends, among people you knew; everyone carries dark secrets with them that you don't see by first glance. Why do you always happen to get in the way of idiots when there's so many good and trustworthy people? I don't understand, and I don't understand some of the things that people can actually allow themselves to do to eachother.
I could just sit by quietly and watch all of it, and shut the fuck up about it, but that wouldn't be me. It would go against everything I've ever encouraged others to do, everything that I stand for. I will hold back slightly, out of respect to my friend. I will mention no one by name, I will not go into exact detail out of respect to my own integrity, but I'm going to tell you what happened.
This weekend I had too much to drink and ended up being approached by my friend's partner in a very inappropriate way, while I was sleeping. It stuns me that someone would cross that line. I'm angry and disappointed, and worried about my friend, and how she's taking it. I told her what happened, I think she already knew it, but it doesn't matter. What friend would I be if I didn't tell? I hope she understands that I have no reason to lie. I've been her friend for a few years now. I don't want her to be angry with me, don't want to lose her. I don't know how to patch things together, I feel like it's my fault even though it isn't, and it makes me angry too, I'm supposed to be a strong person and no one has that right, to cross that border. You just don't cross it. No matter if you're drunk, you should be able to think, you should be able to think somewhere deep inside that this is not okay, this is taking it too far.
I wish I'd been more sober myself and I would have left as soon as it happened, but I could barely even lift my head up without the room spinning. This just sucks! And what an end to an otherwise perfectly nice night? I don't get it... it's not fair!
Phew. There I got it out of me. Those of you who haven't heard about it already, now you know, at least shallowly and that's a good thing. Because no one tells me to shut up. No one tells me what to say or not to say, what to write or not to write. No one tells me who I am - and no one, absolutely no one - has that right.
POET in the JAR
Monday, May 17
Wednesday, May 12
Hunt That Word Flow!
The idea is spinning uncontrollably in my head and I can't breathe, every waking second it's on my mind, it's in my blood, racing. The story is telling itself inside my head, sometimes in slow motion, other times in ultra rapid speed, always altering, always revising, always coming up with better ways. It ties itself together as it spins through my subconscious, when I least expect the solutions to appear is when they pop out and seem... obvious. I wonder why I never thought of it before.
My fingers are itching to act out on this, to type, to turn this imagery and world inside my head into letters on a page so that someone other than me can see it. Can grasp how beautiful, how sorrowful, it is; even though my ways of describing it in words will never be quite enough to mediate what it's really like.
Alarm clocks go off inside my head telling me I have the previous novel to revise, a poem collection to finish, an apartment to clean out, course books to read, cats to feed, a tattoo machine to fix and a painting to make but I put them on snooze, shutting out those that aren't immediately important in favor for those that can possibly afford 10 minutes more of snoozing... because the idea is fleeting, the world is fleeting, and I have to grasp it while I can. These flows don't happen often. Not even during Nanowrimo, when all you do is write, putting less crucial things such as personal hygiene aside; do you often see them. They hit you sometimes in the madness around 3 AM on a week night when you can't sleep, or when you're nowhere near your word processor and you have to jot it all down on a coffee machine filter for the time being; but this is a flow, and a major flow, and I have to catch it until something dams it up and blocks it off entirely. Like a beaver (I am convinced this will amuse a certain someone) building a dam across the river bed stopping the water from running wild and free.
Patience dears, I'm getting there eventually, but for now Jake & Maddy need me,
and I have to catch that flow.
Hunt that flow!
POET IN THE INSANELY PRODUCTIVE; EFFICIENT AND SLEEPLESS JAR
My fingers are itching to act out on this, to type, to turn this imagery and world inside my head into letters on a page so that someone other than me can see it. Can grasp how beautiful, how sorrowful, it is; even though my ways of describing it in words will never be quite enough to mediate what it's really like.
Alarm clocks go off inside my head telling me I have the previous novel to revise, a poem collection to finish, an apartment to clean out, course books to read, cats to feed, a tattoo machine to fix and a painting to make but I put them on snooze, shutting out those that aren't immediately important in favor for those that can possibly afford 10 minutes more of snoozing... because the idea is fleeting, the world is fleeting, and I have to grasp it while I can. These flows don't happen often. Not even during Nanowrimo, when all you do is write, putting less crucial things such as personal hygiene aside; do you often see them. They hit you sometimes in the madness around 3 AM on a week night when you can't sleep, or when you're nowhere near your word processor and you have to jot it all down on a coffee machine filter for the time being; but this is a flow, and a major flow, and I have to catch it until something dams it up and blocks it off entirely. Like a beaver (I am convinced this will amuse a certain someone) building a dam across the river bed stopping the water from running wild and free.
Patience dears, I'm getting there eventually, but for now Jake & Maddy need me,
and I have to catch that flow.
Hunt that flow!
POET IN THE INSANELY PRODUCTIVE; EFFICIENT AND SLEEPLESS JAR
Tuesday, May 11
Chasing Ella
Jake and Maddy are two brothers accidentally ending up in a fight with a couple of older boys. The situation is half salvaged by the old man Ellis walking in on the fight. When paying their respects to the man months later, at his funeral, something strange happens involving the graveyard's gravedigger, and the brothers find themselves in a completely new and sinister world. Ella's world. With the idea of finding Ella weighing on Jake's mind he continously zones away from reality and retreats into himself - counting on Maddy to keep them both out of the worst trouble.
Maddy is the narrator in this Alice-inspired tale, landing you in the middle of a dark dream world as far from any children's story as you can get.
Maddy is the narrator in this Alice-inspired tale, landing you in the middle of a dark dream world as far from any children's story as you can get.
Thursday, May 6
Alice & The Caterpillar
A slanting sign post
Slanting arrows
Which to follow?
Which to trust?
She's a little girl in a blue little dress
A question mark, a game of chess
She's Cheshire, she's Lancelot
The giant mushroom,
in the parking lot
She wanders on, sign says Here
The other sign points her Over There
Maybe she should take neither,
and just walk across the grass
Some of Caterpillar's grass
I'm Caterpillar, in my cocoon,
I'm everything from sun to moon
I'm a man of riddles, a man of smoke
She senses my fumes
I make her choke
I will stroke your hair, Alice
Your dark blue curls
Blow little smoke rings,
Over your head
Then leave you with the mushroom, instead
And the slanting signs
The cookies in the glass jar
And the Drink Me wine
I have to go now, Alice
Leaving my cocoon
Hate to leave you guideless
And lost, so soon
But follow those signs, Alice
They'll lead you the way
Anywhere they take you will be
Some other where than here
And some other where than here
Will be some other place than now
Some other time or no time at all
Tea time, doubly so!
Now hurry on,
You never know
Keep your hat on, Alice, and bow
To yourself
And to no one else
Bow to no one else
Slanting arrows
Which to follow?
Which to trust?
She's a little girl in a blue little dress
A question mark, a game of chess
She's Cheshire, she's Lancelot
The giant mushroom,
in the parking lot
She wanders on, sign says Here
The other sign points her Over There
Maybe she should take neither,
and just walk across the grass
Some of Caterpillar's grass
I'm Caterpillar, in my cocoon,
I'm everything from sun to moon
I'm a man of riddles, a man of smoke
She senses my fumes
I make her choke
I will stroke your hair, Alice
Your dark blue curls
Blow little smoke rings,
Over your head
Then leave you with the mushroom, instead
And the slanting signs
The cookies in the glass jar
And the Drink Me wine
I have to go now, Alice
Leaving my cocoon
Hate to leave you guideless
And lost, so soon
But follow those signs, Alice
They'll lead you the way
Anywhere they take you will be
Some other where than here
And some other where than here
Will be some other place than now
Some other time or no time at all
Tea time, doubly so!
Now hurry on,
You never know
Keep your hat on, Alice, and bow
To yourself
And to no one else
Bow to no one else
Wednesday, May 5
Tea
I don't want to be
your bitter flavored tea.
I want to be the lemon slice,
all the sugar, all the spice,
the scent of safety
behind the void.
Stir me like you stir your tea,
have me like you wanted me,
good and pure,
and then destroyed.
I'll be bitter,
I'll be sweet,
all of what you want from me.
But you will choke on me.
You will choke on me.
your bitter flavored tea.
I want to be the lemon slice,
all the sugar, all the spice,
the scent of safety
behind the void.
Stir me like you stir your tea,
have me like you wanted me,
good and pure,
and then destroyed.
I'll be bitter,
I'll be sweet,
all of what you want from me.
But you will choke on me.
You will choke on me.
Sunday, May 2
Gunsmoke
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You build a world of mirrors
Never look in the glass
And follow the train tracks
Without looking back
You never stop,
You never breathe
Never to take time for me
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You lost your hope in the funhouse
Lost among the aisles
Chasing your demons,
Chasing your vial
You never cease
Glass from lips
Always have that wine
At ready
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
I'm not the heart by hire
I'm gunsmoke, burnt out fire
I can see it in your shallow eyes
You rule out fire for cold ice
I'm not what you're looking for
Don't you realize?
I'm not your replica
Not your copy
Not your lie
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You've done your work with me
Leave me in my bed, go home,
Fall asleep
In your own sheets,
With your own scent
With your own replica
Paying your rent
Where is your desire
Where is your greed?
Ignore connections,
And attraction
Heart by hire
All you need
A heart you're leasing
might not bleed
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You build a world of mirrors
Never look in the glass
And follow the train tracks
Without looking back
You never stop,
You never breathe
Never to take time for me
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You lost your hope in the funhouse
Lost among the aisles
Chasing your demons,
Chasing your vial
You never cease
Glass from lips
Always have that wine
At ready
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
I'm not the heart by hire
I'm gunsmoke, burnt out fire
I can see it in your shallow eyes
You rule out fire for cold ice
I'm not what you're looking for
Don't you realize?
I'm not your replica
Not your copy
Not your lie
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You've done your work with me
Leave me in my bed, go home,
Fall asleep
In your own sheets,
With your own scent
With your own replica
Paying your rent
Where is your desire
Where is your greed?
Ignore connections,
And attraction
Heart by hire
All you need
A heart you're leasing
might not bleed
Magic, Cynic
Could it for once be something... more? Something that wasn't entirely schemed, planned out and calculated from every direction? Couldn't there be that look across the room, across the road, the sound of her light steps on the floor, on the pavement? Could there be an honest smile? Could there be gentle eyes? Wiping away every inch of me that is cynic and tough. Wiping it away with the magic.
I'm not a romantic in person. Not in the way of pink glouds (yes, glouds), glitter and a big fancy marriage in a church, or getting so attached to your other half that that's exactly what you become - half a person. Two people joined together as one, losing all identity and touch. Not in the way of believing that love is something that gets stronger over the years, rather than losing all of its introductory charm. I know that what you feel for someone can be strengthened by the day. I was there, I've felt it, I know it. And it was different from other things I known. But the deep part of me, the one deep inside that doesn't act like me, speak like me, think like me; that part didn't disappear. There were still feelings of being chained to the ground. It was because I hadn't found the right one. I had found someone I let very close, someone who it hurt to love. But it wasn't the one. Couldn't been.
If there is such a thing as a soulmate, how does it work? Can you really just find one person that is that mirror of yourself, without becoming your replica; and if it doesn't work out that's it? We've blown it? I doubt it, it just doesn't feel right, but when did life feel right? When was life fair, last time I checked? And if there are indeed odds that we will find that one person who's completely right for us, the odds that it will last seem to shrink beside it, in comparison.
I'm not looking for something perfect, something magical, or something that was meant to be. I just wish I wasn't looking at all. And if indeed I wasn't, I'd accidentally stumble upon something small, that was real. Something that was not calculations made on a match making site, an assumption of attraction only based on our sexual identities, something that wasn't a random and shallow encounter in some bar just to be left the day after. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. I make it out to be as though I was left and hurt while friends of mine don't find it odd at all to be thrown away like a useless rag after use. Some call it casual, that we all have needs, that it's all done on equal demands.
But is it?
We're shallow people, we've lost our faith in romance. I don't remember what it's like to cast a look across a room and meet a pair of eyes and you just instantly know that there's a connection. I don't remember what it's like to kiss someone sober, in a magical moment, a first kiss full of anticipation and desire. I don't know what it's like to have someone close to you that doesn't feel like a burden, that gives you energy rather than taking it away.
Why am I up at this hour, why am I like this again, will things never turn back to normal? I want to be the person I used to be, I want to believe, I want to feel there is something out there for me, someone, someone with those pretty shoes. Someone witty and smart, and reassuringly odd, an Alice, a little girl. I don't wanna be up at 4.11 AM on a Saturday night staring at a screen at words that feel dead to my eyes even as I type them. I don't want to feel like I'm dead, like I'm dying away from everything that's worth living.
I don't wanna wait. I don't wanna wait for everything to work out eventually. I want things now and I want them good, I want it all, I'm done with substitutes, which everything that's trivial and doesn't matter. I want this month to race by because in a new city I can have a new start and a new life and who knows maybe just a grain of something that resembles love.
Something that's real.
Just a look. With those sparkling eyes.
I want to know when I will find you.
When I will find her.
So I know if it'll be worth my wait.
POET IN THE JAR
I'm not a romantic in person. Not in the way of pink glouds (yes, glouds), glitter and a big fancy marriage in a church, or getting so attached to your other half that that's exactly what you become - half a person. Two people joined together as one, losing all identity and touch. Not in the way of believing that love is something that gets stronger over the years, rather than losing all of its introductory charm. I know that what you feel for someone can be strengthened by the day. I was there, I've felt it, I know it. And it was different from other things I known. But the deep part of me, the one deep inside that doesn't act like me, speak like me, think like me; that part didn't disappear. There were still feelings of being chained to the ground. It was because I hadn't found the right one. I had found someone I let very close, someone who it hurt to love. But it wasn't the one. Couldn't been.
If there is such a thing as a soulmate, how does it work? Can you really just find one person that is that mirror of yourself, without becoming your replica; and if it doesn't work out that's it? We've blown it? I doubt it, it just doesn't feel right, but when did life feel right? When was life fair, last time I checked? And if there are indeed odds that we will find that one person who's completely right for us, the odds that it will last seem to shrink beside it, in comparison.
I'm not looking for something perfect, something magical, or something that was meant to be. I just wish I wasn't looking at all. And if indeed I wasn't, I'd accidentally stumble upon something small, that was real. Something that was not calculations made on a match making site, an assumption of attraction only based on our sexual identities, something that wasn't a random and shallow encounter in some bar just to be left the day after. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. I make it out to be as though I was left and hurt while friends of mine don't find it odd at all to be thrown away like a useless rag after use. Some call it casual, that we all have needs, that it's all done on equal demands.
But is it?
We're shallow people, we've lost our faith in romance. I don't remember what it's like to cast a look across a room and meet a pair of eyes and you just instantly know that there's a connection. I don't remember what it's like to kiss someone sober, in a magical moment, a first kiss full of anticipation and desire. I don't know what it's like to have someone close to you that doesn't feel like a burden, that gives you energy rather than taking it away.
Why am I up at this hour, why am I like this again, will things never turn back to normal? I want to be the person I used to be, I want to believe, I want to feel there is something out there for me, someone, someone with those pretty shoes. Someone witty and smart, and reassuringly odd, an Alice, a little girl. I don't wanna be up at 4.11 AM on a Saturday night staring at a screen at words that feel dead to my eyes even as I type them. I don't want to feel like I'm dead, like I'm dying away from everything that's worth living.
I don't wanna wait. I don't wanna wait for everything to work out eventually. I want things now and I want them good, I want it all, I'm done with substitutes, which everything that's trivial and doesn't matter. I want this month to race by because in a new city I can have a new start and a new life and who knows maybe just a grain of something that resembles love.
Something that's real.
Just a look. With those sparkling eyes.
I want to know when I will find you.
When I will find her.
So I know if it'll be worth my wait.
POET IN THE JAR
Saturday, April 24
Your Hour Glass
I see your hour glass
With time that's running out
Time is running out for me
With all the seconds passed
I'm still the same as I used to be
Caught in all my old routines
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
I haven't changed at all
As you can see
Use your open eyes to convey me
And try to face the different light
With all that's left of your dishonesty
You've built your life on a lie
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
You are the one who's been changing me
You have been blinded by the grains
While you've been busy counting time
And every wound that you've inflicted on me
Takes the same form in your mind
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
I haven't changed at all
You've made me
Starting with nothing
You gave me all
From empty pockets
To a heavy heart
Starting with nothing
You made me fall
From empty eyes
I'm now sore
Compared to nothing,
Pain is more
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
Look what you have made, of me
A doll of pure desperation
Stitching eyes to see
Pour your sand over me...
With time that's running out
Time is running out for me
With all the seconds passed
I'm still the same as I used to be
Caught in all my old routines
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
I haven't changed at all
As you can see
Use your open eyes to convey me
And try to face the different light
With all that's left of your dishonesty
You've built your life on a lie
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
You are the one who's been changing me
You have been blinded by the grains
While you've been busy counting time
And every wound that you've inflicted on me
Takes the same form in your mind
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
I haven't changed at all
You've made me
Starting with nothing
You gave me all
From empty pockets
To a heavy heart
Starting with nothing
You made me fall
From empty eyes
I'm now sore
Compared to nothing,
Pain is more
Pour your sand over me
I'll still be your reflection
Take your hand off your creation
Look what you have made, of me
A doll of pure desperation
Stitching eyes to see
Pour your sand over me...
Wednesday, April 21
Low
Hitting a low, wasn't going to take my pills for today but in the end I found myself in the bathroom scrambling up some anyway. Listening to Abney Park to try and take some of the edge away. It's working alright. His voice usually soothes me.
Today I had a strange idea about writing a kid's book about UFO's. Maybe I'll do that sometime. Meanwhile I'll just have to spend tomorrow on the poem collection, my deadline for that is on Saturday. I got today off so no worries.
Sigh Robert's voice really helps.
Now maybe for an episode or so of Red Dwarf before bed so I can die away laughing.
POET in the JAR
Today I had a strange idea about writing a kid's book about UFO's. Maybe I'll do that sometime. Meanwhile I'll just have to spend tomorrow on the poem collection, my deadline for that is on Saturday. I got today off so no worries.
Sigh Robert's voice really helps.
Now maybe for an episode or so of Red Dwarf before bed so I can die away laughing.
POET in the JAR
Friday, April 16
Sugar Bowl
You're the silver spoon,
In the sugar bowl
The pale full moon,
Without a soul
Will you light my way?
Will you be dim and gray?
I'm the sugar slave,
Addicted to you
I don't want to crave,
I want to be true
Will I make my way?
Will I be freed and saved?
I'm putting you out, fire
I grew to a storm
While you were away
You're no longer a burning star
Pile of ashes, is what you are
That's how you will end,
Old friend
I will end you
And strangle you
Take you down,
And put you out
I'll do it all
Without a doubt
Without a regret
So why haven't I done it yet?
In the sugar bowl
The pale full moon,
Without a soul
Will you light my way?
Will you be dim and gray?
I'm the sugar slave,
Addicted to you
I don't want to crave,
I want to be true
Will I make my way?
Will I be freed and saved?
I'm putting you out, fire
I grew to a storm
While you were away
You're no longer a burning star
Pile of ashes, is what you are
That's how you will end,
Old friend
I will end you
And strangle you
Take you down,
And put you out
I'll do it all
Without a doubt
Without a regret
So why haven't I done it yet?
Tuesday, April 13
Umbrella Man
I can point you the right way
Help you take those first, faltering steps
Avoid the landmines, and the landslides
I'll tell you where to step next
But I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
It's my turn to deny you
To take my hands off my own creation
I invited you to scar me, and to use me
As part of my rush, of my sensation
But I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
I'm done with being your umbrella man
Always letting you heal, before I can
My core is open, I need to be shielded
I need to wash your blood off my hands
I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
It would be in vain
Help you take those first, faltering steps
Avoid the landmines, and the landslides
I'll tell you where to step next
But I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
It's my turn to deny you
To take my hands off my own creation
I invited you to scar me, and to use me
As part of my rush, of my sensation
But I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
I'm done with being your umbrella man
Always letting you heal, before I can
My core is open, I need to be shielded
I need to wash your blood off my hands
I won't be your constant guide
Won't be on your coaster ride
Buy your own golden ticket
Buy your own train
I can't stay around forever
Through your rain
It would be in vain
Saturday, April 10
Anarchy
Today is the third day someone random in Anarchy Online has given me valuable items, even while I haven't asked for them. I went out with asking if anyone could give me a pistol buff, and ended up with two level 90 guns and one million (!) creds - relevant is that on my own so far, buying precisely what I needed to survive and nothing more, had managed to scrape together 33,000 creds. Imagine what a difference that made for me. Either I'm simply very friendly or I'm a very lucky bastard.
Anyway, to stop geeking around. I better head off to bed now, I got a cold and aint feeling like I oughtta, and anyway I need to get up at around 8AM if I wanna have any reasonable chance to make it to work on time. I am so, so tired of working weekends. But soon it will all be over, I'll leave this hellhole of nothing behind me and build my life someplace else, someplace where I will really be able to live...
Today Rebel asked me if I want to take over her dorm room when she moves out in August, which sounds like a nice idea. Over the summer we can share it, that's fine by me. I'm getting even more excited to leave now! Just one more month and I will know if I got accepted to the summer course. Hold your thumbs for me, and that even more importantly, I get into fall's classes.
Love you guys.
POET in the ANARCHIST JAR
Anyway, to stop geeking around. I better head off to bed now, I got a cold and aint feeling like I oughtta, and anyway I need to get up at around 8AM if I wanna have any reasonable chance to make it to work on time. I am so, so tired of working weekends. But soon it will all be over, I'll leave this hellhole of nothing behind me and build my life someplace else, someplace where I will really be able to live...
Today Rebel asked me if I want to take over her dorm room when she moves out in August, which sounds like a nice idea. Over the summer we can share it, that's fine by me. I'm getting even more excited to leave now! Just one more month and I will know if I got accepted to the summer course. Hold your thumbs for me, and that even more importantly, I get into fall's classes.
Love you guys.
POET in the ANARCHIST JAR
Friday, April 9
Dandelion
There's the Reaper,
harvest emotion
Luring under the darkest tree
There he is, the sweeper
Pulls the ground away
From your feet
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
There's your tomb site,
patch of darkness
Where no eyes can ever see
Stone set, for your slumber
As you die, away from me
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
Little dandelion
You were brave
When you were dying
harvest emotion
Luring under the darkest tree
There he is, the sweeper
Pulls the ground away
From your feet
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
There's your tomb site,
patch of darkness
Where no eyes can ever see
Stone set, for your slumber
As you die, away from me
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
Little dandelion
You were brave
When you were dying
Saturday, April 3
Flames & Sea
In the water
You're distorted
Facing your own guilty eyes
Wanting to drown
Want to go down?
Into the cold
You're distracted
Thousand needles, all of ice
Taking you down
Want to go drown?
In the sky
You see yourself
Like you never saw yourself
In the water
In the sea
You see yourself,
as a part of me
In the fire
Is where I am, these days
I've hidden from view,
Hidden from you
In this desolate place
As you trace another ocean
Another sea to die
You'll never find my fire,
Never find my lie
Maybe, for the better
Flames don't go too well with sea
But they'll always keep wanting eachother
Like I'm still craving you
And you're looking to die
Because of me
You're distorted
Facing your own guilty eyes
Wanting to drown
Want to go down?
Into the cold
You're distracted
Thousand needles, all of ice
Taking you down
Want to go drown?
In the sky
You see yourself
Like you never saw yourself
In the water
In the sea
You see yourself,
as a part of me
In the fire
Is where I am, these days
I've hidden from view,
Hidden from you
In this desolate place
As you trace another ocean
Another sea to die
You'll never find my fire,
Never find my lie
Maybe, for the better
Flames don't go too well with sea
But they'll always keep wanting eachother
Like I'm still craving you
And you're looking to die
Because of me
Transparent
You're that scent in the wind
That whisp of smoke that always disappears
When I reach out to touch
You're the fog that clouds the night
That clouds my eyes
And I'm transparent
You're that memory I lost
That melody, familiar, that always fades
Before I remember what it was
You're that drop of blood
Falling from my fingertips
And I'm transparent
You're that invisible power
Invisible emotion
That I can't stand living without
You're what drives me towards pain
When I can't stand life without you
When I can't stand being plain
I have a million reasons to leave this place
Besides from the obvious, in you
A million reasons to just start over
Aren't you tired of this city too?
I tell everyone how I look forward to leave
While everyone easily sees through to me
I'm transparent
You drove me away
You don't get to regret it
You don't get to follow
And I don't get to come back
That whisp of smoke that always disappears
When I reach out to touch
You're the fog that clouds the night
That clouds my eyes
And I'm transparent
You're that memory I lost
That melody, familiar, that always fades
Before I remember what it was
You're that drop of blood
Falling from my fingertips
And I'm transparent
You're that invisible power
Invisible emotion
That I can't stand living without
You're what drives me towards pain
When I can't stand life without you
When I can't stand being plain
I have a million reasons to leave this place
Besides from the obvious, in you
A million reasons to just start over
Aren't you tired of this city too?
I tell everyone how I look forward to leave
While everyone easily sees through to me
I'm transparent
You drove me away
You don't get to regret it
You don't get to follow
And I don't get to come back
Tuesday, March 30
Bye Bye, Ophelia
It's tradition by now to stop by here whenever I finish a novel, and this one I hold very near and dear to my heart. Today I wrote the last chapter, and epilogue, of my beloved Ophelia's Photograph. She even managed to surprise me in the end, and I was very close to bursting in tears. Because of what happens, because of how it ends, because of the sad and melancholic beauty of their world. It doesn't feel like I've created it. It feels like they told the story themselves. And as far as I know Cade, he'd need to get it off his chest.
I borrowed my Grandma's printer to get this first draft (filled still with plot holes, typos and incorrect depictions of eye colors) out on paper. 243 pages it turned out to be, too many to even bundle together in a single bunch. I simply had to cut it a break after Chapter 8 and pretend that it was meant to split there, ha ha. I also made damn sure to put the manuscript on a CD, I will make another proof copy tomorrow (and yes, I'm aware that I'm being paranoid).
Tonight me and DJ finally managed to call eachother using Skype (damn that MSN into the wall and back) and I love that. It's just proof of how well we know eachother by now and how good friends we are that we were on the phone talking about nothing and everything for 4 hours and 45 minutes. Roughly. My only regret is that he lives across the globe. I want all my friends to come live closer!
Anyway, I'm dead tired and should stumble into bed. I just wanted to let everyone know, who doesn't already, that the novel is finished, and that I'm panicking in lack of a new novel project to throw myself into at once. Holding those pages in my hands was bliss. I've never felt as much as a real writer as in that moment.
I love all you guys. Without you, I wouldn't have hung around for this long.
POET in the JAR
I borrowed my Grandma's printer to get this first draft (filled still with plot holes, typos and incorrect depictions of eye colors) out on paper. 243 pages it turned out to be, too many to even bundle together in a single bunch. I simply had to cut it a break after Chapter 8 and pretend that it was meant to split there, ha ha. I also made damn sure to put the manuscript on a CD, I will make another proof copy tomorrow (and yes, I'm aware that I'm being paranoid).
Tonight me and DJ finally managed to call eachother using Skype (damn that MSN into the wall and back) and I love that. It's just proof of how well we know eachother by now and how good friends we are that we were on the phone talking about nothing and everything for 4 hours and 45 minutes. Roughly. My only regret is that he lives across the globe. I want all my friends to come live closer!
Anyway, I'm dead tired and should stumble into bed. I just wanted to let everyone know, who doesn't already, that the novel is finished, and that I'm panicking in lack of a new novel project to throw myself into at once. Holding those pages in my hands was bliss. I've never felt as much as a real writer as in that moment.
I love all you guys. Without you, I wouldn't have hung around for this long.
POET in the JAR
Sunday, March 21
Pretending To Live
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
It's been so many days
I'm trying not to count them
And keep me occupied
But I fall anyway
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me
I'm pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
My sleepless nights
I'm trying hard to fight them
Dozing off alright
But I'm wide awake
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me, I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
It's been so many days
I'm trying not to count them
And keep me occupied
But I fall anyway
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me
I'm pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
My sleepless nights
I'm trying hard to fight them
Dozing off alright
But I'm wide awake
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me, I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
Saturday, March 20
Cade On The Loop
Crossing my fingers right now for something very important, or at least it is to me. In case it doesn't work out I'll keep quiet about it for the time being.
On other matters. Thinking constantly about the novel and about what happened this week, hoping it'll repeat again soon. We'll see. If it's supposed to be... it'll be. And I'll try not to let it distract myself anymore, although that smile is etched onto my mind. As concerns Cade he's getting very close to the end of his story, this time around. I don't know yet if I'll be writing a sequel to his story, it simply seems to be this one story with him; but I can't tell for sure until I've written the last few vital scenes. I was thinking how cool it would be to hit 100K before the story's over, but I'm currently at 81 and I doubt I'll last even all the way up to 90. Anyway, besides the obvious Nano-addict talk, what matters is that I'm getting near completion.
I have no idea what to do with my life when it's done, uh. Maybe I'll have to fill it with a social life outside of my characters. Hmmm. Seems impossible.
Cheers, be back in writing business on Monday by the latest.
POET in the JAR
On other matters. Thinking constantly about the novel and about what happened this week, hoping it'll repeat again soon. We'll see. If it's supposed to be... it'll be. And I'll try not to let it distract myself anymore, although that smile is etched onto my mind. As concerns Cade he's getting very close to the end of his story, this time around. I don't know yet if I'll be writing a sequel to his story, it simply seems to be this one story with him; but I can't tell for sure until I've written the last few vital scenes. I was thinking how cool it would be to hit 100K before the story's over, but I'm currently at 81 and I doubt I'll last even all the way up to 90. Anyway, besides the obvious Nano-addict talk, what matters is that I'm getting near completion.
I have no idea what to do with my life when it's done, uh. Maybe I'll have to fill it with a social life outside of my characters. Hmmm. Seems impossible.
Cheers, be back in writing business on Monday by the latest.
POET in the JAR
Thursday, March 18
Necronomicon
Just came back home after last night's adventures. I feel like shouting it out to the world what happened and what a good time I had, but seeing I'm supposed to be broke that's maybe not the best option. Realized that I had spent 400 crowns of the money Dad gave me at the pub rather than at the grocery store... ehh. Yeah. Waking up today was a bit of a shock (especially seeing I didn't even wake up in my own bed) but it was a very nice shock. I'm not complaining. I hope I'll get to see her again sometime soon, trying not to get my hopes up.
All my time lately is going to the novel. It takes all my time and all my energy. I'm close to finishing it, not sure what I'll be doing once I do; but probably dig out my old Playstation and play through some of the classics like Resident Evil or something. I had a strange urge to play it over the last few days although I know myself well enough to assume I'll play it for 20 minutes and then give it up again and abandon it for something else. I might sit down by the tv and get some Final Fantasy X done though. Yeah I think that's a good way to cure a hangover.
I'll be off to work in a couple of hours, things there will be slow as hell but I'll live. Probably flip through Necronomicon by Lovecraft for another round of horror short stories (already late for the library but what the hell. The book is a brick) and just try to pass the time, really.
See you later, alligator.
POET in the JAR
All my time lately is going to the novel. It takes all my time and all my energy. I'm close to finishing it, not sure what I'll be doing once I do; but probably dig out my old Playstation and play through some of the classics like Resident Evil or something. I had a strange urge to play it over the last few days although I know myself well enough to assume I'll play it for 20 minutes and then give it up again and abandon it for something else. I might sit down by the tv and get some Final Fantasy X done though. Yeah I think that's a good way to cure a hangover.
I'll be off to work in a couple of hours, things there will be slow as hell but I'll live. Probably flip through Necronomicon by Lovecraft for another round of horror short stories (already late for the library but what the hell. The book is a brick) and just try to pass the time, really.
See you later, alligator.
POET in the JAR
Monday, March 15
Insignia
I break the branches of an early fall, leaves sogging in the pools of dark water under my feet. The branches snap with a loud crack, tearing through the sound of the rain.
Up on the roof, it feels like it's raining even more than on the ground, the wind tearing at my hair and at the collar of my leather jacket.
Under my shoes there's pieces of gravel. The kind small enough to get caught in the pattern under your shoes, the kind that are strewn over the snowy streets in winter and emerge like an undiscovered shore at the turn of the tide. A few of these tiny stones are in my hands now, edges on my wet skin, marked by dirt and rain. I let go of one, watching it fall heavily towards the ground below from here, disappearing out of my view before it reaches its final destination.
I look up again, my attention caught by the opposing rooftop, the white flag with the familiar insignia flapping, and raging; in the stormy wind. It glares at me, eerily; I don't return its eager stare. That is not what I came for.
I get up from my knees, when the last knot has been tied, and it's my turn to fall down towards the asphalt far below. From above, all you will see is the white fabric, mocking the flags and their insignia back.
But above me, there is nothing.
Below me, is the whole wide world.
POET in the JAR
(A sort of novel idea, or something, that just popped into my head. I couldn't get it out in any form of poetry so here it is, raw and unedited for later uses. Enjoy meanwhile.)
Up on the roof, it feels like it's raining even more than on the ground, the wind tearing at my hair and at the collar of my leather jacket.
Under my shoes there's pieces of gravel. The kind small enough to get caught in the pattern under your shoes, the kind that are strewn over the snowy streets in winter and emerge like an undiscovered shore at the turn of the tide. A few of these tiny stones are in my hands now, edges on my wet skin, marked by dirt and rain. I let go of one, watching it fall heavily towards the ground below from here, disappearing out of my view before it reaches its final destination.
I look up again, my attention caught by the opposing rooftop, the white flag with the familiar insignia flapping, and raging; in the stormy wind. It glares at me, eerily; I don't return its eager stare. That is not what I came for.
I get up from my knees, when the last knot has been tied, and it's my turn to fall down towards the asphalt far below. From above, all you will see is the white fabric, mocking the flags and their insignia back.
But above me, there is nothing.
Below me, is the whole wide world.
POET in the JAR
(A sort of novel idea, or something, that just popped into my head. I couldn't get it out in any form of poetry so here it is, raw and unedited for later uses. Enjoy meanwhile.)
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