It thinks it's a phoenix, rising from it's own ashes.
That which feels reborn every era.
It's like a sad regurgitation of itself.
That which feels reborn every era,
But in reality it's just a more sickening machine,
Bringing destruction to itself and all those who remain in it too long.
Flashy hairstyles, Brand new trends,
I feel the vomit creeping up my throat
as I heard her say "bombie."
Apparently that's the newest word to be shat out.
I can't even fathom the way these people live,
How do they manage to breathe?
The only things I ever hear about is who owns what,
Like the daughter of Sunny and Cher owning a "bombie restaurant",
With an over-paid host who used to be in a world-wide band,
But spent all his money on suing the label for telling them to change their sound.
Too much face work?
Get some more,
Pretty soon they'll have an outlet store,
Don't worry about your problems or health for that matter,
It can all be cured by the paid knife,
But you'll still be stupid the rest of your life.
I hope they're happy,
When they're pretty and a hoe,
Cuz afterall it's not about what you can do,
It's about who you can blow.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Actually Christmas
So now it's Christmas eh?
For about half an hour they say.
I kind of wish I owned a sleigh...
The snow isn't dirty anymore,
I see Santa in the wood grain of the bathroom door,
Even TODAY I was called a man-whore.
The holiday spirit is quite contageous,
The holiday antics are quite outrageous,
Neither stops the drunks from being courageous.
I'm dreaming of a Christmas so white,
The sun will beam down oh so bright,
I can't wait for tomorrow night.
So that's "Actually Christmas" Another off-the-top-of-the-head poem I wrote at... Damn near 1 am. I've sent my massive text message wishing everyone a merry christmas. Hope I didn't miss anyone. I wish everyone a merry christmas and hope all of you get a lot of cool shit.
For about half an hour they say.
I kind of wish I owned a sleigh...
The snow isn't dirty anymore,
I see Santa in the wood grain of the bathroom door,
Even TODAY I was called a man-whore.
The holiday spirit is quite contageous,
The holiday antics are quite outrageous,
Neither stops the drunks from being courageous.
I'm dreaming of a Christmas so white,
The sun will beam down oh so bright,
I can't wait for tomorrow night.
So that's "Actually Christmas" Another off-the-top-of-the-head poem I wrote at... Damn near 1 am. I've sent my massive text message wishing everyone a merry christmas. Hope I didn't miss anyone. I wish everyone a merry christmas and hope all of you get a lot of cool shit.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Wrapping and Writing
Not very long til Christmas. I'm more interested in the family time and free stuff than I am about celebrating some dead mans birthday. (Can you tell I'm not christian? =P) So I decided I would write a poem off the top of my head about Christmas.
Christmas in my mind.
The lights outside guide my gaze,
The trees lit up leave my mind in a haze,
Is it time for Jesus to come see us?
Oh wait, that's San-t Claws.
Presents being dropped through chimneys,
I never had one as a child, did Santa never come?
No, his magic is much more powerful that I thought,
When in reality I guess parents are good liars.
I try to think of animated Frosty,
But all I get is Jack Frost,
Stabbing children with icicles,
I'd much rather have spiked eggnog.
Christmas music on CD makes me sick,
They have a sick desperation to their melody,
Going hand in hand with their attempts for money...
Or what they think is happiness.
Christmas in my mind.
The lights outside guide my gaze,
The trees lit up leave my mind in a haze,
Is it time for Jesus to come see us?
Oh wait, that's San-t Claws.
Presents being dropped through chimneys,
I never had one as a child, did Santa never come?
No, his magic is much more powerful that I thought,
When in reality I guess parents are good liars.
I try to think of animated Frosty,
But all I get is Jack Frost,
Stabbing children with icicles,
I'd much rather have spiked eggnog.
Christmas music on CD makes me sick,
They have a sick desperation to their melody,
Going hand in hand with their attempts for money...
Or what they think is happiness.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Another final (Continued)
So, with my bordem and... Still another 2.25 hours left until I fail this philosophy final, I decided to go blog hopping. I've found that there are an immense amount of good poets/writers out there.
Because of this, I'm adding a page element called "Poet Ring" which is going to be a list of poets I support in the sense that I try to get people to read their works, since I hope they'll be doing the same for me.
If you're ever looking for a good poem, aside from all the great works here *wink*, look over at the Poets Ring, I'm sure you'll find at least one.
Because of this, I'm adding a page element called "Poet Ring" which is going to be a list of poets I support in the sense that I try to get people to read their works, since I hope they'll be doing the same for me.
If you're ever looking for a good poem, aside from all the great works here *wink*, look over at the Poets Ring, I'm sure you'll find at least one.
Another final
So I'm sitting in the library at my school right now, for lack of anything better to do... While refusing to study for a final I'll probably fail. That's beside the point. I've found there are some interesting observations to be made in this place. So I decided I'd put it into a poem. Hurray, right?
The Library
The keyboards clicking like a gaggle of geese honk,
Millions of keystrokes per minute,
How many of them are correcting errors I wonder?
The atmosphere is an abnormal tension,
Not that which can be cut by a knife,
But taut enough in which the air feels thick.
Knowledge being converted to a structured word processor,
A form of rebirth like that of a phoenix,
Though this time it comes out like a test-tube abomination.
Cold glances from the screen every once and again,
No one speaks, no one shows emotion,
A secluded prison state in which "education" takes place.
Only 3 clocks in a room the size of a house,
Are we not supposed to know the time?
Maybe they like to keep us on our toes.
Ipods and cell phones,
The only link to the outside world here,
Will we ever make it past that stolen book detector?
Intensity fluctuates like sound waves,
The silent roar of citing and research grips even me,
I hope their work pays off,
So they can be happy with the way they waste the rest of their lives,
Maybe one of them will be a librarian and realize their strife.
The Library
The keyboards clicking like a gaggle of geese honk,
Millions of keystrokes per minute,
How many of them are correcting errors I wonder?
The atmosphere is an abnormal tension,
Not that which can be cut by a knife,
But taut enough in which the air feels thick.
Knowledge being converted to a structured word processor,
A form of rebirth like that of a phoenix,
Though this time it comes out like a test-tube abomination.
Cold glances from the screen every once and again,
No one speaks, no one shows emotion,
A secluded prison state in which "education" takes place.
Only 3 clocks in a room the size of a house,
Are we not supposed to know the time?
Maybe they like to keep us on our toes.
Ipods and cell phones,
The only link to the outside world here,
Will we ever make it past that stolen book detector?
Intensity fluctuates like sound waves,
The silent roar of citing and research grips even me,
I hope their work pays off,
So they can be happy with the way they waste the rest of their lives,
Maybe one of them will be a librarian and realize their strife.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
A metaphor...
I had this assignment in my english 1 class at the beginning of the semester so I decided since it's a metaphor for my writing process it was worthy enough to be put up here.
Out of all the things I can say I have done in 19 years of life, writing is by far the most interesting. I’ve written poetry, attempted novel ideas, and novellas but I have never actually managed to pull one off, yet. I think this can be attributed to the metaphor which I feel strongly relates to my writing. That is: my writing is like going to a rock concert, knowing you have friends there and attempting to find them; where the rock concert is the mind putting together and imagining the literary piece and the friends/people are solid pieces/ideas of your work.
Consider this; you have just gotten into your car sitting outside your house. Anticipation thrusts your adrenalin into high gear and all you can think is “I’M GOING TO THE SHOW!” Soon after, you’re zooming down the highway too fast to take in all the scenery (where your mind is while writing) and you’re dead set on that concert hall. Anything that may have been important or pending on your mind previously has vanished and all you feel is your heart pounding out the mental note: hurry up!
Once you finally arrive, joy punches you in the chest as you watch the door man tear your ticket, you now set out to find your friends. Attempting to call them on your cell phone, yet you have no reception, which is aggravating because you’re probably less than 500 feet from their current location.
Venturing forth you set out to find them by shear force. Entering the concert hall itself, the vast arena set up in such a fashion it seems more plausible to commit suicide with a dogs chew toy than find anyone specific in here, yet you continue on. Looking around almost frantically, all the faces that seem like moving déjà vu, you check your phone for the time and signal, no signal but you’re sent into a semi-calm, because even though you don’t have any of your friends with you… Music will be playing soon!
The first band gets up on stage, and the crowd rises. Watching in a state of aw, the entire crowd looks on in a sort of trance. Snapping from your hypnosis you realize your gut is fluttering faster than a humming-bird. You want to experience the music and the show, but what good is it if you can’t do it with someone you know experiencing the same thing you are? The first chord of the first song of the first band resonates throughout the arena and you realize... No, you KNOW chaos is only moments away from being unleashed.
As the insanity released from thousands of people(or ideas) rushes towards you, you still feel alone; it’s time to find some friends. After shoving your way through the hordes of all sized people, dirty looks and attempted instigation aside, you manage to find one! Your entire body feeling revitalized and full once again. Moments after exchanging salutations you feel a hand on your shirt pulling you back. As you reach out for your friend, who has just turned around to look at the stage, you are flung into the middle of a mosh-pit.
Brutality and violence are apparent in the swarm of angsty teens and adults alike, all feeling the power of the music. Fists fly, boots are slammed, shoulder to shoulder battles raging amongst the rampant crowd. That won’t stop you, you will not let it. Pressing on, making your own path with your own brutality, you manage to push straight into another mosh. FUCK! Is all that enters your mind. Now you’re friendless again, exhausted and stuck with a bunch of people who look like unarmored Vikings.
Forcefully boosting your own physical strength up, yet again, you see the task ahead. Destroying a wall of what might as well be called 8 foot men, you manage to get out of the thick crowd. Quickly reaching for your cell phone, as you never know when you may be snatched back in, you check… RECEPTION! You quickly hit redial and wait with intense anticipation. Ring…………….. Ring…………….. The familiar “click” of the phone being picked up is heard but thereafter you only hear the same thing your other ear hears, but now is sounds like a mechanized torture chamber… Delightful.
You sigh as you feel hopelessness begin to grip your insides. Looking up towards the stage you catch a glimpse of what seems to be a friend you were unaware would be at this concert. Following the back of their head through the less-violent crows your anticipation grows more and more. “That’s got to be them!” You say just before reaching out to their shoulder. Turning around to see you, they present their visage. You can’t think of anything aside from the relief you feel, seeing the face of someone you know, even if you hasn’t thought they would listen to this kind of music(or that that idea belonged in a literary work like this one).
Then the headline band takes the stage. This is the moment almost everyone in the entire building is waiting for “Are you ready to rock?” Echoes out over the field of people. Nothing but the roar of joy is heard, and in the moment just before their first song rings out, the friends you had been looking for arrive at your sides. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” Is called out loud enough to plaster an uncontrollable smile on your face… Accomplishment.
Out of all the things I can say I have done in 19 years of life, writing is by far the most interesting. I’ve written poetry, attempted novel ideas, and novellas but I have never actually managed to pull one off, yet. I think this can be attributed to the metaphor which I feel strongly relates to my writing. That is: my writing is like going to a rock concert, knowing you have friends there and attempting to find them; where the rock concert is the mind putting together and imagining the literary piece and the friends/people are solid pieces/ideas of your work.
Consider this; you have just gotten into your car sitting outside your house. Anticipation thrusts your adrenalin into high gear and all you can think is “I’M GOING TO THE SHOW!” Soon after, you’re zooming down the highway too fast to take in all the scenery (where your mind is while writing) and you’re dead set on that concert hall. Anything that may have been important or pending on your mind previously has vanished and all you feel is your heart pounding out the mental note: hurry up!
Once you finally arrive, joy punches you in the chest as you watch the door man tear your ticket, you now set out to find your friends. Attempting to call them on your cell phone, yet you have no reception, which is aggravating because you’re probably less than 500 feet from their current location.
Venturing forth you set out to find them by shear force. Entering the concert hall itself, the vast arena set up in such a fashion it seems more plausible to commit suicide with a dogs chew toy than find anyone specific in here, yet you continue on. Looking around almost frantically, all the faces that seem like moving déjà vu, you check your phone for the time and signal, no signal but you’re sent into a semi-calm, because even though you don’t have any of your friends with you… Music will be playing soon!
The first band gets up on stage, and the crowd rises. Watching in a state of aw, the entire crowd looks on in a sort of trance. Snapping from your hypnosis you realize your gut is fluttering faster than a humming-bird. You want to experience the music and the show, but what good is it if you can’t do it with someone you know experiencing the same thing you are? The first chord of the first song of the first band resonates throughout the arena and you realize... No, you KNOW chaos is only moments away from being unleashed.
As the insanity released from thousands of people(or ideas) rushes towards you, you still feel alone; it’s time to find some friends. After shoving your way through the hordes of all sized people, dirty looks and attempted instigation aside, you manage to find one! Your entire body feeling revitalized and full once again. Moments after exchanging salutations you feel a hand on your shirt pulling you back. As you reach out for your friend, who has just turned around to look at the stage, you are flung into the middle of a mosh-pit.
Brutality and violence are apparent in the swarm of angsty teens and adults alike, all feeling the power of the music. Fists fly, boots are slammed, shoulder to shoulder battles raging amongst the rampant crowd. That won’t stop you, you will not let it. Pressing on, making your own path with your own brutality, you manage to push straight into another mosh. FUCK! Is all that enters your mind. Now you’re friendless again, exhausted and stuck with a bunch of people who look like unarmored Vikings.
Forcefully boosting your own physical strength up, yet again, you see the task ahead. Destroying a wall of what might as well be called 8 foot men, you manage to get out of the thick crowd. Quickly reaching for your cell phone, as you never know when you may be snatched back in, you check… RECEPTION! You quickly hit redial and wait with intense anticipation. Ring…………….. Ring…………….. The familiar “click” of the phone being picked up is heard but thereafter you only hear the same thing your other ear hears, but now is sounds like a mechanized torture chamber… Delightful.
You sigh as you feel hopelessness begin to grip your insides. Looking up towards the stage you catch a glimpse of what seems to be a friend you were unaware would be at this concert. Following the back of their head through the less-violent crows your anticipation grows more and more. “That’s got to be them!” You say just before reaching out to their shoulder. Turning around to see you, they present their visage. You can’t think of anything aside from the relief you feel, seeing the face of someone you know, even if you hasn’t thought they would listen to this kind of music(or that that idea belonged in a literary work like this one).
Then the headline band takes the stage. This is the moment almost everyone in the entire building is waiting for “Are you ready to rock?” Echoes out over the field of people. Nothing but the roar of joy is heard, and in the moment just before their first song rings out, the friends you had been looking for arrive at your sides. “We’ve been looking all over for you!” Is called out loud enough to plaster an uncontrollable smile on your face… Accomplishment.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Replenished and Renewed
I feel reborn today. I was having an incredibly shitty day last night to the point I wanted to die. My friend Cleigho brought me back, so much so that I feel like a new person. And earlier today, I got the best present in a while, the copy of my in-progress novel: Dotwarz!!!!
I'm soooooooo happy! I've been reading over it... I havn't written anything on it in... 2-3 years. I was alright for a 15/16 year old write, but it's utter trash. But, it's a good base to work on, since it's 14500 words. Now, when I do all the development that is needed... It will be what I hope is thought of as one of the best sci-fi/fantasy novel ever.
I don't have a poem for you today, just all the good news. ^_^ Hope your tuesday wasn't too bad.
I'm soooooooo happy! I've been reading over it... I havn't written anything on it in... 2-3 years. I was alright for a 15/16 year old write, but it's utter trash. But, it's a good base to work on, since it's 14500 words. Now, when I do all the development that is needed... It will be what I hope is thought of as one of the best sci-fi/fantasy novel ever.
I don't have a poem for you today, just all the good news. ^_^ Hope your tuesday wasn't too bad.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Life is hectic...
The title is the reason I've not posted in a while. I haven't been writing anything lately either. It's bugging me. Making me physically angry at times. I've got one poem left in the writing book to let you all see. I hopefully will have some new stuff sometime soon.
It's called Snafoo, as a play on the army acronym SNAFU which stands for: Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.
Snafoo
Stop telling us what to do,
Never tell us how to live,
Always think before you vomit more of your stupid at us,
Freedom is our right, who are you to say different?
Omit me from the record and life itself, for that matter,
Ostracizing me only justifies my existence.
It's called Snafoo, as a play on the army acronym SNAFU which stands for: Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.
Snafoo
Stop telling us what to do,
Never tell us how to live,
Always think before you vomit more of your stupid at us,
Freedom is our right, who are you to say different?
Omit me from the record and life itself, for that matter,
Ostracizing me only justifies my existence.
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