So this weekend was spent educating myself in the art of living life. Late nights, early mornings, sprinting, jogging, walking, spanning several cities without time to stop. I guess today is that time to reflect on what an amazing weekend it's been. This isn't a journal of the event-reflection type; it's a tale of my experiences. Enjoy.
Waking up Saturday morning knowing I'd be going to see an Olympic hockey game in Vancouver was really no biggie to me. How crazy is that? What a privilege it is to be able to go to an event, I was totally unprepared for the experience in terms of thankfulness. Getting into the stadium we found that our seats, which were sold to us for half price thanks to the work of Leah's mom, were centre ice 3 rows from the glass. The atmosphere combined with the view made the experience unforgettable. To see so many people with such joy and pride in their nations is an awesome experience. The game was a brilliant, back and forth event eventually building to a Swiss victory.
Leave the stadium, packed into a crowd of thousands, to sing the anthem full volume on the streets of Vancouver. Who decided that the anthem should be restricted to classrooms and sports events? Should our thankfulness and pride of our amazing country be restricted as well? It's a beautiful thing to see people embracing their country, and all thanks to the Olympics for channelling this pride.
Downtown, at this point, would have to wait. Time to head back to Langley for soccer. Not a bad game, but the details I'll spare you. Suffice to say, lots of running, lots of shooting, little scoring. No biggie, it happens.
Back to surrey, shower, back to Vancouver. Gotta see that torch. If you haven't, you must. From the torch, with a dilemma between inside or outside the city, we chose to head outside. We walked along the water, holding hands, laughing, romantic, etc. More details to (hopefully) follow in a special post.
Time really flies when you're stopping to smell the roses. I suppose the trade is worthwhile though. The seconds and minutes of life are best spent with the ones you love, and if that's the case, why bother keeping a running count? Quality time needn't be measured in minutes, but rather moments.
Anyways, late nights as I said, so it was time to head home for bed.
Church. Old faces, new plans. Vancouver again, this time following volleyball. Canada loses to the US, but no big deal, it takes us off the unbeatable pedestal. Time to hit up Livecity.
We arrive at Livecity just in time to see the fireworks display. It was absolutely amazing, and definitely worthwhile to check out. From there, we wander. Everywhere you look you see red and white, and hear cheers and jeers. America, BOO! Canada, yay! Perhaps more foul, but that's the simplified version. We walk to Robson Square, chill out to some live blues music, people all around are dancing and having a great time. The city is alive. Lights, music, dancing, singing, the city is alive.
This brings me to my main point. Why host the Olympics? Why not? Are there better things the money could be spent on? Definitely. Would it be sent there if there were no Olympics? Definitely not. Our city needed this. The excitement and joy is an investment in the capacity for kindness in our citizens. The euphoria surrounding the downtown core is palpable. Where will this excitement go? That's up to us. We are given so much, and provided with such an opportunity to celebrate, one can only hope that when the games conclude, and when all the parties stop, we are not only closer to one another, but that we are also thankfully looking for what we can do to maintain and grow this joy in others.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Songs of the Month
So having a list of songs of the day, or week for that matter, seems a little too ambitious. Lets try this out, and see how it works. Here are the songs of the month...
Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun
Skinny Love by Bon Iver
Sleepyhead by Passion Pit
Pursuit of Happiness by Kid Cudi (steve aoki remix) [bad language, good song]
Dream Machine by Mark Farina (downtempo Mix)
Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show
In The Beginning by K'naan
Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun
Skinny Love by Bon Iver
Sleepyhead by Passion Pit
Pursuit of Happiness by Kid Cudi (steve aoki remix) [bad language, good song]
Dream Machine by Mark Farina (downtempo Mix)
Wagon Wheel by Old Crow Medicine Show
In The Beginning by K'naan
The Process
While I've got you here, have a listen. I find that for me, writing and music go hand in hand. The right song clears my mind, puts me at ease, and gives me all the inspiration in the world. From an external source, inspirations can be such odd things. How some people can simply look upon a picture, a scene, or hear a song, and then produce something unique as a result is a pretty amazing thing. People always wonder what the value of the arts is. Even I used to question what real value they have.
People say they build culture, that they make people more well rounded and open minded. These for me are sort of those 50% answers; they are good, but not good enough. If nothing else, art is a process. I look upon what you produce, I encounter it, and then in turn produce something of my own. The truly great works manage to somehow transcend this process, make it into the mainstream and stand alone in their greatness. I don't think I'll be producing any of those works any time soon, but it's nice to think of myself as included in the ongoing process. Hopefully you great reader folk can be inspired by this idea, and this song, enough to give yourself a place in the ongoing cycle of what is art.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Finished setting up
So I've imported all my poems and what-have-you, but i think I'm going to decide against importing my other posts from other places. They served their purpose where they were, and that's good enough for me. Now it's time to look forward, and see if I can maintain this blog thing.
I have too much time on my hands right now, so it shouldn't be too difficult for these olympic weeks. This weekend I'll be off to the Switzerland Norway game, should be a pretty great experience. Maybe when it's over I'll blog about it, with PICTURES! OOOOOOOH, AHHHHHHH! Mark your calendars folks, i'm official online!
I have too much time on my hands right now, so it shouldn't be too difficult for these olympic weeks. This weekend I'll be off to the Switzerland Norway game, should be a pretty great experience. Maybe when it's over I'll blog about it, with PICTURES! OOOOOOOH, AHHHHHHH! Mark your calendars folks, i'm official online!
Recent poems
If I lost myself, Would I find myself in you?
One by one, my senses slip away
and I become truly lost.
First I do away with my ability to taste.
No more displeasure in mushrooms and zucchini,
this is a loss I could get used to.
Then it dawns on me, no more home cooked meals.
No more grilled cheese, no more soup, no more cookies.
I'm missing you already.
But my heart isn't only accessed through my stomach, I press on.
With taste out, perhaps I'll not miss my sense of smell so much.
Although you don't smell, at least I won't have to smell myself,
HA! Small, peculiar victory i guess. But no biggie, right?
Until I think of being with you, and not having your sweet aromas fill my head.
Not being able to fill myself with your presence,
and breathe in your life.
This loss stings, but I still am myself, and still I continue onward.
Next, do away with my ability to feel.
No more physical pain, what a great relief that'd be,
no more sore muscles to get in my way.
And yet, no more sensation when our hands find eachother,
no more feeling when we kiss,
and no feeling of completeness when we embrace.
This is too much for me, I MUST be able to feel,
to really KNOW you're there, and not just the vision of my happiness.
For myself, I press on, however empty I may be feeling.
Take away my ability to hear, as without touch, I feel I have to be able to see you.
Without sound, I have no noise to bother me, no voices to annoy, just peaceful white noise.
But then it hits me, the very thing in you I love, the thing in which we share is lost.
You can no longer fill my head with your beautiful voice,
your laugh fades from memory as I break down in reminiscence.
Without so much as saying goodbye, so much of you is taken from me,
and regardless of anything, I have no desire to go on.
To take away my sight is to trap me in solitude.
Without desire or realization of what I've started, all light suddenly fades and i lose my sight.
Never again will I gaze deeply into your eyes,
to see you smile, laugh, or even cry.
The world is lost to me, and all I can picture is your face,
but as time goes on, your image fades to the darkness my life has become.
Tears fill my eyes as I try desperately to remember the last images of you and I,
Those moments I'd taken for granted, those times when I'd let you feel like anything less than my world.
Without the ability to be with you, I am lost in life.
There is no finding myself in you, as without you, there is nothing left in me to find.
If ever I should lose you in life, If ever we should grow apart, I hope I can hold this near and truly allow myself to become lost. Only in losing myself can I begin to understand your impact in my life. Without my senses, life loses its meaning, not because my meaning can be found in the simplicities of the world, but because you, as my world, are the meaning of my life. Without you, I truly am lost, my senses only allow me to verify how lost i'd be without you by my side.
One. Weakness. Not an omission or deficiency of strength. Contrarily, a mental barrier, preventing potential from even being recognized. Weakness isn't the inability to succeed so much as it is the inability to recognize one's successes. It creates unreachible goals as part of it's attack, causing feelings of failure to overwhelm even the most successful of people. If it were simply physical, weakness wouldn't be such a great adversary; it would be easily dismissed by hours spend lifting and running. But you can't run from true weakness, not towards strength anyways. Weakness runs with you, chanting in your ears "it's not enough". Weakness grows with your strength to constantly challenge new standards. The more you grow, the greater your self expectations develop, fueling the voice in your ear. When you stop, quit and give in, your successes never cease to be. Rather, they're only overshadowed by the voice of failure; the silent sound of weakness taking over.
Love is what strengthens you when you're at your weakest. It's that extra push to get every last drop out of the beauty of life. When the world seems to grow around you, and you feel lost among the masses, love is what grounds you. Love finds a way to bring people together, to spread itself over great distances, but also to let go at the right time. Love is neither conditional, nor fleeting. Love lasts from sunrise to set, and remains long after bodies whither to dust. When it is time to say goodbye, our love comforts us to know that departures are only temporary obstacles. Time, distance, life, death, none may prevent or inhibit us from knowing love. It compels us to selflessly exist for one another, and teaches us ways to experience true happiness. In times when even the self is lost, and the value of ones own life comes in to question, love reminds us of our importance. Love requires us all, and involves us all, it is an intricate network of common souls united in a goal of acceptance, tolerance, and reliance. Love exists in conjunction with my existence, for from the day of my very conception, love was shown to me. Jesus is love.
This morning I woke up in a daze;
I thought about life before I bothered being awake.
I thought so hard I could have sworn I was somewhere new.
No, not somewhere new, that's not right...
I could have sworn I was really awake.
But then my consciousness sped up and my eyes opened
only to reveal everything as it was when i'd said goodnight.
I got out of bed, got to school, then off to work, then home for supper.
Day in, day out, day in, day out, day in, day out,
sleep.
There's joy there, sure. But there's some pain too.
There are the good days, the bad days, the days that just seem to happen.
They pass so quickly its as though i'd slept through them,
only to find myself waking up in the same place, to the same good mornings.
But still....
There are those moments when I think so hard, so deeply.
Those are the moments when I realize that
awake is so much more than living with my eyes open;
awake is not something that's going to happen to me, or happen around me.
I need to be awake, and I need to stay awake.
Man, I don't want to go to sleep when I'm that awake.
I don't want to walk away from life when it's not just happening,
but when I'm there actively participating in it.
Even when I know tomorrow I'll wake up,
I'm so uncertain when I'll next feel awake.
I can't say I know much about love.
Not much about saying the right thing,
being the right guy,
or loving you the right way.
But I can honestly say that I don't ever want to get
to a point where I'm loving you out of habit.
My habits constrain me, they control and guide me.
I wake up, and fall into them like a trap.
They don't ask me when they choose for me,
they tell me where to go and what to do, and I listen.
You are my greatest companion.
You are that constant that I need to centre my life on.
You are everything that is important to me,
delicately combined into beauty, grace, compassion and love.
You are my all of the above, but you are not my habit.
You are my choice.
Loving you is an each-and-every-moment,
so-conscious-it's-killing-me,
gasping-for-air-cause-you're-leaving-me-breathless,
turning-blue-but-loving-every-second type choice
that I make every time I set my eyes on you.
When you're staring daggers,
and they're pinning me to the walls,
I'm only thinking of how I can free myself
to be closer to you.
When you're walking away,
begging that I'll chase you, but wanting to be 1000 miles away from me,
I'm debating how i'll disappoint you by not giving you your way,
and how I'll ever be able to make it up to you
for letting you down.
When you're mad at me because I won't say what you want,
because I won't tell you what you're asking to hear,
because I won't do what you expect me to do, or be who you expect me to be,
know it's not because I don't love you, because believe me, I do...
It's because I don't want, not for one second,
my love to become a habit instead of a choice.
I don't want to fall into patterns and traps with you,
I'll break free of 1000 daggers, and chase you for a million miles
all the while knowing that there's nowhere else in the world I'd choose to be
but by your side.
One by one, my senses slip away
and I become truly lost.
First I do away with my ability to taste.
No more displeasure in mushrooms and zucchini,
this is a loss I could get used to.
Then it dawns on me, no more home cooked meals.
No more grilled cheese, no more soup, no more cookies.
I'm missing you already.
But my heart isn't only accessed through my stomach, I press on.
With taste out, perhaps I'll not miss my sense of smell so much.
Although you don't smell, at least I won't have to smell myself,
HA! Small, peculiar victory i guess. But no biggie, right?
Until I think of being with you, and not having your sweet aromas fill my head.
Not being able to fill myself with your presence,
and breathe in your life.
This loss stings, but I still am myself, and still I continue onward.
Next, do away with my ability to feel.
No more physical pain, what a great relief that'd be,
no more sore muscles to get in my way.
And yet, no more sensation when our hands find eachother,
no more feeling when we kiss,
and no feeling of completeness when we embrace.
This is too much for me, I MUST be able to feel,
to really KNOW you're there, and not just the vision of my happiness.
For myself, I press on, however empty I may be feeling.
Take away my ability to hear, as without touch, I feel I have to be able to see you.
Without sound, I have no noise to bother me, no voices to annoy, just peaceful white noise.
But then it hits me, the very thing in you I love, the thing in which we share is lost.
You can no longer fill my head with your beautiful voice,
your laugh fades from memory as I break down in reminiscence.
Without so much as saying goodbye, so much of you is taken from me,
and regardless of anything, I have no desire to go on.
To take away my sight is to trap me in solitude.
Without desire or realization of what I've started, all light suddenly fades and i lose my sight.
Never again will I gaze deeply into your eyes,
to see you smile, laugh, or even cry.
The world is lost to me, and all I can picture is your face,
but as time goes on, your image fades to the darkness my life has become.
Tears fill my eyes as I try desperately to remember the last images of you and I,
Those moments I'd taken for granted, those times when I'd let you feel like anything less than my world.
Without the ability to be with you, I am lost in life.
There is no finding myself in you, as without you, there is nothing left in me to find.
If ever I should lose you in life, If ever we should grow apart, I hope I can hold this near and truly allow myself to become lost. Only in losing myself can I begin to understand your impact in my life. Without my senses, life loses its meaning, not because my meaning can be found in the simplicities of the world, but because you, as my world, are the meaning of my life. Without you, I truly am lost, my senses only allow me to verify how lost i'd be without you by my side.
One. Weakness. Not an omission or deficiency of strength. Contrarily, a mental barrier, preventing potential from even being recognized. Weakness isn't the inability to succeed so much as it is the inability to recognize one's successes. It creates unreachible goals as part of it's attack, causing feelings of failure to overwhelm even the most successful of people. If it were simply physical, weakness wouldn't be such a great adversary; it would be easily dismissed by hours spend lifting and running. But you can't run from true weakness, not towards strength anyways. Weakness runs with you, chanting in your ears "it's not enough". Weakness grows with your strength to constantly challenge new standards. The more you grow, the greater your self expectations develop, fueling the voice in your ear. When you stop, quit and give in, your successes never cease to be. Rather, they're only overshadowed by the voice of failure; the silent sound of weakness taking over.
Love is what strengthens you when you're at your weakest. It's that extra push to get every last drop out of the beauty of life. When the world seems to grow around you, and you feel lost among the masses, love is what grounds you. Love finds a way to bring people together, to spread itself over great distances, but also to let go at the right time. Love is neither conditional, nor fleeting. Love lasts from sunrise to set, and remains long after bodies whither to dust. When it is time to say goodbye, our love comforts us to know that departures are only temporary obstacles. Time, distance, life, death, none may prevent or inhibit us from knowing love. It compels us to selflessly exist for one another, and teaches us ways to experience true happiness. In times when even the self is lost, and the value of ones own life comes in to question, love reminds us of our importance. Love requires us all, and involves us all, it is an intricate network of common souls united in a goal of acceptance, tolerance, and reliance. Love exists in conjunction with my existence, for from the day of my very conception, love was shown to me. Jesus is love.
This morning I woke up in a daze;
I thought about life before I bothered being awake.
I thought so hard I could have sworn I was somewhere new.
No, not somewhere new, that's not right...
I could have sworn I was really awake.
But then my consciousness sped up and my eyes opened
only to reveal everything as it was when i'd said goodnight.
I got out of bed, got to school, then off to work, then home for supper.
Day in, day out, day in, day out, day in, day out,
sleep.
There's joy there, sure. But there's some pain too.
There are the good days, the bad days, the days that just seem to happen.
They pass so quickly its as though i'd slept through them,
only to find myself waking up in the same place, to the same good mornings.
But still....
There are those moments when I think so hard, so deeply.
Those are the moments when I realize that
awake is so much more than living with my eyes open;
awake is not something that's going to happen to me, or happen around me.
I need to be awake, and I need to stay awake.
Man, I don't want to go to sleep when I'm that awake.
I don't want to walk away from life when it's not just happening,
but when I'm there actively participating in it.
Even when I know tomorrow I'll wake up,
I'm so uncertain when I'll next feel awake.
I can't say I know much about love.
Not much about saying the right thing,
being the right guy,
or loving you the right way.
But I can honestly say that I don't ever want to get
to a point where I'm loving you out of habit.
My habits constrain me, they control and guide me.
I wake up, and fall into them like a trap.
They don't ask me when they choose for me,
they tell me where to go and what to do, and I listen.
You are my greatest companion.
You are that constant that I need to centre my life on.
You are everything that is important to me,
delicately combined into beauty, grace, compassion and love.
You are my all of the above, but you are not my habit.
You are my choice.
Loving you is an each-and-every-moment,
so-conscious-it's-killing-me,
gasping-for-air-cause-you're-leaving-me-breathless,
turning-blue-but-loving-every-second type choice
that I make every time I set my eyes on you.
When you're staring daggers,
and they're pinning me to the walls,
I'm only thinking of how I can free myself
to be closer to you.
When you're walking away,
begging that I'll chase you, but wanting to be 1000 miles away from me,
I'm debating how i'll disappoint you by not giving you your way,
and how I'll ever be able to make it up to you
for letting you down.
When you're mad at me because I won't say what you want,
because I won't tell you what you're asking to hear,
because I won't do what you expect me to do, or be who you expect me to be,
know it's not because I don't love you, because believe me, I do...
It's because I don't want, not for one second,
my love to become a habit instead of a choice.
I don't want to fall into patterns and traps with you,
I'll break free of 1000 daggers, and chase you for a million miles
all the while knowing that there's nowhere else in the world I'd choose to be
but by your side.
Less old poems
Used to be controlled by my feelings till i freed 'em
said goodbye to love and care cause i don't need 'em
but freedom is the sum of what we're bleedin,
mixed with the chance to live and breath as we please. One
moment a component isn't pleasin'...
if freedom isn't free to control seasons
then what's the reason to do away with feelin's?
If love for you is in the tears forced from my eyes,
then i'm tormented here until each droplette dries.
see, it's late night and i'm up late right,
when a stray sight hits me, though a straight sight.
it's straight fright, straight, as in, real frightening,
to see so much of me flash before my eyes like lightening,
my senses now hightening, i investigate a vision,
plunge myself in with precision, running through my inquisition,
identity is the subject, of which i am compelled to investigate,
is the i who i am i supposed to tempt this fate?
or supposed to close this gate, stomp the toes of those i hate?
those who impose till froze i find my state,
mind freezing in a state of disbelieving, mischieving,
is a mind freezing worth mine seizing for the sake of appeasing?
mine imploding and eroding to make hard times easing
pain. The slowed foe, still pulling and squeezing,
till torn or worn, my mind explodes, finds itself coughing and wheezing,
wide eyed, i can stare at the world, and at last start breathing,
by Your side, my stride at last has meaning.
When I'm all alone, and i gaze upon the sky at night
I see a black, empty place filled with little lights to fill in gaps
I see a bright moon reflecting the light of the distant stars
I see all that is there for what it is, a black canvas filled with distant objects...
Yet...
When you're by my side, and i look up at night
I see the sky we fell in love underneath,
I see the sheer luck i possess to have found love in someone so perfect,
I see the future of our love lasting longer than all the stars in the sky combined
with you by my side, i see the world for what it really is...
with you by my side, my life is complete...
with you by my side...i don't know why I'd be so foolish as to gaze away into the sky anyways
cause with you by my side, the sky gazes down upon us envious of the brilliance of our love.
See, my hell is a place where my mind is dead,
and i see myself failing over and over in my head.
My hell is a place where my mind is dead,
images of failure playing on and on in my head.
My hell isn't so much what i make it as,
it's what it takes as rakes away at my mental path.
Disillusioning me to believe that I'm worthless,
And in believing this I only find it hurts less.
My hell, see it breaks me down deep,
shakes my foundation, and it removes all sound. Sleep,
never comes as i'm always conscious,
always adjusting to patterns of this self-disgust.
In my hell, nightmares are always welcome,
trying hard to devise a way to make my mind numb.
In this place, to every face belongs a race of hate,
erasing fate as they press on embracing irate spates of sin,
and just while i begin to let my patience grow thin,
i start to lose myself and find that I fit right in...
in my hell.
Be heroic,
remain stoic,
you know the drill,
perfectly still,
as i chip away with hammer and chisel.
upon the stage do you sit,
void of intellect and wit,
grace and beauty, you emit
without room for brains to fit.
You are woman, you are man,
far admired `cross the land,
for your smile and for your tan,
though not true you understand.
Like a masterpiece on wall,
your figure is displayed for all,
from the spring on to the fall,
you hold your place within the hall.
The time then comes, when you grow old,
your figure no longer mine to mould.
What`s left for all to behold?
is all that glitters truly gold?
A dusty statue, a true upset,
for all your beauty, they forget.
And it becomes yours to regret,
that beauty was your greatest threat.
said goodbye to love and care cause i don't need 'em
but freedom is the sum of what we're bleedin,
mixed with the chance to live and breath as we please. One
moment a component isn't pleasin'...
if freedom isn't free to control seasons
then what's the reason to do away with feelin's?
If love for you is in the tears forced from my eyes,
then i'm tormented here until each droplette dries.
see, it's late night and i'm up late right,
when a stray sight hits me, though a straight sight.
it's straight fright, straight, as in, real frightening,
to see so much of me flash before my eyes like lightening,
my senses now hightening, i investigate a vision,
plunge myself in with precision, running through my inquisition,
identity is the subject, of which i am compelled to investigate,
is the i who i am i supposed to tempt this fate?
or supposed to close this gate, stomp the toes of those i hate?
those who impose till froze i find my state,
mind freezing in a state of disbelieving, mischieving,
is a mind freezing worth mine seizing for the sake of appeasing?
mine imploding and eroding to make hard times easing
pain. The slowed foe, still pulling and squeezing,
till torn or worn, my mind explodes, finds itself coughing and wheezing,
wide eyed, i can stare at the world, and at last start breathing,
by Your side, my stride at last has meaning.
When I'm all alone, and i gaze upon the sky at night
I see a black, empty place filled with little lights to fill in gaps
I see a bright moon reflecting the light of the distant stars
I see all that is there for what it is, a black canvas filled with distant objects...
Yet...
When you're by my side, and i look up at night
I see the sky we fell in love underneath,
I see the sheer luck i possess to have found love in someone so perfect,
I see the future of our love lasting longer than all the stars in the sky combined
with you by my side, i see the world for what it really is...
with you by my side, my life is complete...
with you by my side...i don't know why I'd be so foolish as to gaze away into the sky anyways
cause with you by my side, the sky gazes down upon us envious of the brilliance of our love.
See, my hell is a place where my mind is dead,
and i see myself failing over and over in my head.
My hell is a place where my mind is dead,
images of failure playing on and on in my head.
My hell isn't so much what i make it as,
it's what it takes as rakes away at my mental path.
Disillusioning me to believe that I'm worthless,
And in believing this I only find it hurts less.
My hell, see it breaks me down deep,
shakes my foundation, and it removes all sound. Sleep,
never comes as i'm always conscious,
always adjusting to patterns of this self-disgust.
In my hell, nightmares are always welcome,
trying hard to devise a way to make my mind numb.
In this place, to every face belongs a race of hate,
erasing fate as they press on embracing irate spates of sin,
and just while i begin to let my patience grow thin,
i start to lose myself and find that I fit right in...
in my hell.
Be heroic,
remain stoic,
you know the drill,
perfectly still,
as i chip away with hammer and chisel.
upon the stage do you sit,
void of intellect and wit,
grace and beauty, you emit
without room for brains to fit.
You are woman, you are man,
far admired `cross the land,
for your smile and for your tan,
though not true you understand.
Like a masterpiece on wall,
your figure is displayed for all,
from the spring on to the fall,
you hold your place within the hall.
The time then comes, when you grow old,
your figure no longer mine to mould.
What`s left for all to behold?
is all that glitters truly gold?
A dusty statue, a true upset,
for all your beauty, they forget.
And it becomes yours to regret,
that beauty was your greatest threat.
More old poems
Upon first glance you know me.
You know nothing of my past
and nothing of the person inside.
None of my hopes, dreams or aspirations.
Where i'm from or where i want to go.
The man i am nor the man i hope to become.
Yet you are so certain you know me,
not only me, but my type.
You see me as you see them,
your eyes not searching for a person,
but rather a label to fulfill.
Prepackaged as your label comes,
so too do those whom you brand.
Without personality,
such blank, empty lives
waiting for you to tell them who they are.
down the road of darkness,
we walked alone, hand in hand,
i held you close as our lips met,
to the the sounds of a soft melody surrounding us,
our last dance,
as the song fades away,
so too does our love, as our souls drift gently apart
headed for different roads, different hands, and different songs.
You ask me who am I?
Well I’m whoever you want me to be
I'm that line in a movie,
Just a phrase or a line,
not real or genuine,
But I’m the line that you just can't get out of your mind.
I'm that song you just can't get out of your mind,
the rhyme that replays eternally, with you it's entwined
until you realize that it's time to sing to a new tune
discard the old, cause what's new will join it soon,
I'm what's new, what’s in, the craze of the year,
what captivates, enthralls, what seems sincere,
but rest assured, I’m nothing more than an audible mirror
reflecting what you want to see, and what you want to hear,
I hide myself in visions of what appears to be great
to you, I’m just someone that you need to create
Perfection...
it scares me, feels unnecessary,
makes impossible seem i ought to where be,
In her, it's hard not to envision perfection,
it seems that no progression can be made in her direction.
it's pure affection, certain to end in pure rejection,
with no objection, if only for that one sign of detection
of the way i truly feel.
Yet see, as before, i'm not content with perfection,
perfection seems to me to be an infection,
festering in minds desperate for acception,
changing who they see in their day-to-day reflection.
But back to her, if we're all flawed, how can i express
all the near perfection that she must possess, unless,
the only way to do her justice is to suggest,
not flawless - i guess...but made with one flaw-less.
my witty shroud of double meanings
carefully applied to flee dangerous moments
and protect me from a painful scenario
thats harder to face than a false reflection.
like a grain of sand upon a beach
my sentiment is lost,
replaced by the face of humor,
it's easier to laugh at nothing, than suffer in something.
Talk to me bout morality,
set me free from obligation,
free from responsiblilty and judgement.
Guide me towards a life of greed, sin and lust,
cause this gratification surpasses any devinity.
Let me live my life for now, after all, now is my time.
Impatience mixed with a lack of faith brings me to my heaven,
where rules don't apply, you live to get high,
causing death to come soon, but keepin you out of the sky.
Or....
Talk to me about morality,
where in reality, there is no immortality.
The next hit or gun clip serves up the next fatality,
Where choices shine through to affect vitality,
and the hatred, sex, and drugs mess with your mentality.
If going with the flow will perpetuate nomality,
What's right about a world spawning spiritual lethality?
Essen-tially, i make no sense till it gets made of me,
afraid, comprehension can't be laid on me,
practically, every joke has been played on me,
fade on me, stray from me, n untill another day, stay away from me,
lay no aid on me, free to put it on myself, see,
cause on myself i place the blame when it aint all glee.
n it aint ever all be-cause to a degree,
i guess, i never will know who to be, be-yond,
the "gee, i ought to agree", work too hard to disagree,
work too hard not to be free,
Work too damned hard to see me centsless, defenceless,
not just stressed now, but a future tense, dense, mess.
You know nothing of my past
and nothing of the person inside.
None of my hopes, dreams or aspirations.
Where i'm from or where i want to go.
The man i am nor the man i hope to become.
Yet you are so certain you know me,
not only me, but my type.
You see me as you see them,
your eyes not searching for a person,
but rather a label to fulfill.
Prepackaged as your label comes,
so too do those whom you brand.
Without personality,
such blank, empty lives
waiting for you to tell them who they are.
down the road of darkness,
we walked alone, hand in hand,
i held you close as our lips met,
to the the sounds of a soft melody surrounding us,
our last dance,
as the song fades away,
so too does our love, as our souls drift gently apart
headed for different roads, different hands, and different songs.
You ask me who am I?
Well I’m whoever you want me to be
I'm that line in a movie,
Just a phrase or a line,
not real or genuine,
But I’m the line that you just can't get out of your mind.
I'm that song you just can't get out of your mind,
the rhyme that replays eternally, with you it's entwined
until you realize that it's time to sing to a new tune
discard the old, cause what's new will join it soon,
I'm what's new, what’s in, the craze of the year,
what captivates, enthralls, what seems sincere,
but rest assured, I’m nothing more than an audible mirror
reflecting what you want to see, and what you want to hear,
I hide myself in visions of what appears to be great
to you, I’m just someone that you need to create
Perfection...
it scares me, feels unnecessary,
makes impossible seem i ought to where be,
In her, it's hard not to envision perfection,
it seems that no progression can be made in her direction.
it's pure affection, certain to end in pure rejection,
with no objection, if only for that one sign of detection
of the way i truly feel.
Yet see, as before, i'm not content with perfection,
perfection seems to me to be an infection,
festering in minds desperate for acception,
changing who they see in their day-to-day reflection.
But back to her, if we're all flawed, how can i express
all the near perfection that she must possess, unless,
the only way to do her justice is to suggest,
not flawless - i guess...but made with one flaw-less.
my witty shroud of double meanings
carefully applied to flee dangerous moments
and protect me from a painful scenario
thats harder to face than a false reflection.
like a grain of sand upon a beach
my sentiment is lost,
replaced by the face of humor,
it's easier to laugh at nothing, than suffer in something.
Talk to me bout morality,
set me free from obligation,
free from responsiblilty and judgement.
Guide me towards a life of greed, sin and lust,
cause this gratification surpasses any devinity.
Let me live my life for now, after all, now is my time.
Impatience mixed with a lack of faith brings me to my heaven,
where rules don't apply, you live to get high,
causing death to come soon, but keepin you out of the sky.
Or....
Talk to me about morality,
where in reality, there is no immortality.
The next hit or gun clip serves up the next fatality,
Where choices shine through to affect vitality,
and the hatred, sex, and drugs mess with your mentality.
If going with the flow will perpetuate nomality,
What's right about a world spawning spiritual lethality?
Essen-tially, i make no sense till it gets made of me,
afraid, comprehension can't be laid on me,
practically, every joke has been played on me,
fade on me, stray from me, n untill another day, stay away from me,
lay no aid on me, free to put it on myself, see,
cause on myself i place the blame when it aint all glee.
n it aint ever all be-cause to a degree,
i guess, i never will know who to be, be-yond,
the "gee, i ought to agree", work too hard to disagree,
work too hard not to be free,
Work too damned hard to see me centsless, defenceless,
not just stressed now, but a future tense, dense, mess.
Poems of old
Here are some REEEEEALLY old poems I've written and filed away. They vary in quality and such, enjoy!
Dévotus
Sitting here thinking of the cards been dealt,
Concealing the feelings long since felt,
Again thoughts of you make my heart melt,
And I'm stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of your eyes so blue,
Recalling me falling madly for you,
Pledging my heart and love to be true,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of the good and bad,
Abusing and losing the love we had,
Here I am left with thoughts painful and sad,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of the tears once cried,
Wondering, could I bring myself to your side?
Knowing you'd leave, no matter how hard I tried,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of mistakes once made,
Crying, slowly dying, wishing you'd stayed,
Knowing your love and trust I’d betrayed,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of all that's been done,
Realizing goodbyes sting now that you're gone,
Where two stood strong, stands a shattered one,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Trapped
inside my shell of doubt,
I stand protected from the world,
from the deceptions of life,
The most dangerous places can
seem so safe.
You see nice enough,
join me won't you? It's
lonely in here.
Be the one in whom i confide,
burdens grow heavy on my shoulders alone.
But once you're in there's only one way out,
leave if you wish, leave me here,
broken,
with the pieces of my shattered trust.
The ink flows as freely as the thought
that drives it towards the edges of
the pages in an effort to say all
that needs to be said before
the ink dries up and the
page is left empty
or looked upon
as another
wasted
idea
The clock nears noon,
and with every tick the pace quickens.
Yesterday seems but a faint memory of the distant past,
The child within forced to grow and prepare
for a world unknown.
The leaves change color and fall,
flowers bloom in a meadow reborn,
the sun sets slow in a sky on fire with vibrance,
time makes short work of nature's beauty
The clock chimes as hats soar in the distance.
stages are crossed, speeches read, futures planned.
A feeling long since felt returns.
The staggering uncertainty of that first step;
an uneasy leap into the arms of faith,
with the clock ticking too fast to be caught.
I pause, enjoy, reminisce, then go back to life.
Back to a fast paced, impersonal city life.
A life where the people all look the same,
where days speed by like a passing car,
and where beauty has gone ignored.
Replaced by the cold, hard look of the future,
in a world such as this, sometimes
we all need to take a break, slow down, and appreciate
the natural beauty left unnoticed for so long.
Before I head back into this lonely world,
I pause, enjoy, reminisce, then go back to life.
I miss the way our hands fit together,
like two halves of a whole destined to be united.
Once pulled apart; representing nothing but
a broken heart.
I miss the way we used to talk,
about nothing at all, or all that mattered.
Once made quiet; I desire
never to speak again.
I miss the way you used to smile,
bright enough to engulf the night sky.
Once frowned away, allowing darkness
to consume our lives.
I miss the way things used to be,
sharing our lives, all the pain and joy.
Once departed, destroying what we
always hoped to have.
But most of all,
i miss the way you used to miss me.
Dévotus
Sitting here thinking of the cards been dealt,
Concealing the feelings long since felt,
Again thoughts of you make my heart melt,
And I'm stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of your eyes so blue,
Recalling me falling madly for you,
Pledging my heart and love to be true,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of the good and bad,
Abusing and losing the love we had,
Here I am left with thoughts painful and sad,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of the tears once cried,
Wondering, could I bring myself to your side?
Knowing you'd leave, no matter how hard I tried,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of mistakes once made,
Crying, slowly dying, wishing you'd stayed,
Knowing your love and trust I’d betrayed,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Sitting here thinking of all that's been done,
Realizing goodbyes sting now that you're gone,
Where two stood strong, stands a shattered one,
And I’m stuck with myself to blame
Trapped
inside my shell of doubt,
I stand protected from the world,
from the deceptions of life,
The most dangerous places can
seem so safe.
You see nice enough,
join me won't you? It's
lonely in here.
Be the one in whom i confide,
burdens grow heavy on my shoulders alone.
But once you're in there's only one way out,
leave if you wish, leave me here,
broken,
with the pieces of my shattered trust.
The ink flows as freely as the thought
that drives it towards the edges of
the pages in an effort to say all
that needs to be said before
the ink dries up and the
page is left empty
or looked upon
as another
wasted
idea
The clock nears noon,
and with every tick the pace quickens.
Yesterday seems but a faint memory of the distant past,
The child within forced to grow and prepare
for a world unknown.
The leaves change color and fall,
flowers bloom in a meadow reborn,
the sun sets slow in a sky on fire with vibrance,
time makes short work of nature's beauty
The clock chimes as hats soar in the distance.
stages are crossed, speeches read, futures planned.
A feeling long since felt returns.
The staggering uncertainty of that first step;
an uneasy leap into the arms of faith,
with the clock ticking too fast to be caught.
I pause, enjoy, reminisce, then go back to life.
Back to a fast paced, impersonal city life.
A life where the people all look the same,
where days speed by like a passing car,
and where beauty has gone ignored.
Replaced by the cold, hard look of the future,
in a world such as this, sometimes
we all need to take a break, slow down, and appreciate
the natural beauty left unnoticed for so long.
Before I head back into this lonely world,
I pause, enjoy, reminisce, then go back to life.
I miss the way our hands fit together,
like two halves of a whole destined to be united.
Once pulled apart; representing nothing but
a broken heart.
I miss the way we used to talk,
about nothing at all, or all that mattered.
Once made quiet; I desire
never to speak again.
I miss the way you used to smile,
bright enough to engulf the night sky.
Once frowned away, allowing darkness
to consume our lives.
I miss the way things used to be,
sharing our lives, all the pain and joy.
Once departed, destroying what we
always hoped to have.
But most of all,
i miss the way you used to miss me.
In the beginning...
Late nights seem to have me in a trance, dragging me back to the same old routines. Low battery, says my laptop, I hear that. Looks like we're both being kept up. It used to be that I'd be up with stuff to find the negatives in, and then reasons pleanty to be feeling low. I guess now that I'm missing those things, I'm sort of missing those things, you know?
Strange thought, but I guess you can't miss the past in patches. Nostalgia isn't exclusive for me, it sweeps up everything I've left behind and kicks the memories around in my head. You know what, maybe I'll be motivated and start up a blog. Yes, this will be it, as I write this now, I am going to do it.
Clever name, clever name, from where may I draw my inspiration? Naming things that i write is always such a cheesy activity for me. It always ends up being the process of "how can I make an obvious idea more obvious" or "HA, I'm so ironic". Lets see...bah. Settled it...appropriate title I guess.
Now it's just a matter of actually posting and whatnot. I've developed the ability to predict my procrastination, with quite some accuracy I might add. Here's hoping I won't put this back-burner project further back. I really think a writing hobby is somewhat of a necessity for me to maintain focus and consciousness during my times of extreme boredom. Furthermore, I like to blog, and enjoy reading past thoughts and ideas.
Anyone else ever get that odd inclination to want to capitalize random words mid-sentence? No? Just me? Okay, welcome to my madness.
Strange thought, but I guess you can't miss the past in patches. Nostalgia isn't exclusive for me, it sweeps up everything I've left behind and kicks the memories around in my head. You know what, maybe I'll be motivated and start up a blog. Yes, this will be it, as I write this now, I am going to do it.
Clever name, clever name, from where may I draw my inspiration? Naming things that i write is always such a cheesy activity for me. It always ends up being the process of "how can I make an obvious idea more obvious" or "HA, I'm so ironic". Lets see...bah. Settled it...appropriate title I guess.
Now it's just a matter of actually posting and whatnot. I've developed the ability to predict my procrastination, with quite some accuracy I might add. Here's hoping I won't put this back-burner project further back. I really think a writing hobby is somewhat of a necessity for me to maintain focus and consciousness during my times of extreme boredom. Furthermore, I like to blog, and enjoy reading past thoughts and ideas.
Anyone else ever get that odd inclination to want to capitalize random words mid-sentence? No? Just me? Okay, welcome to my madness.
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