An aspiring writer giving his thoughts away.

I think I'm done with this.

2008-03-10T13:42:00.002-05:00

Not my relationship which has gotten better than it was prior to all the other bullsh*t that occurred, but my blog. I've lost readers and I've found that I feel anxious if I don't have responses. So I'm thinking I'm just going to stop posting. I'll probably check back in a few days or a week or so to see if anyone has any objections.

Cheers,
Christopher.

All's well on the girlfront but school still sucks.

2008-03-06T08:26:00.002-06:00

So all's well with Hallee now. I've dealt with it harshly and swiftly.

One of Pandora's Boxes

Little boxes that look like presents,
At least in the way they're presented.
Pain and suffering are said to be their allure,
Is it -all- humanity in which is allured?
Lust or love, which is the one we crave?
Why is it we catch ourselves in the middle of craving?
Is the meaning of life to win?
Why do we all feel like losing?

Imagineiff

2008-03-03T13:41:00.002-06:00

L o O

Love or obsession?
Clever deception?
Manipulation
With a citation...
Who cares to think anymore
Then again, had to before.
Who is whole...
Anymore?

Yet... Again.

2008-03-01T12:59:00.002-06:00

God... F*cking... D*mnit...

We were playing "Questions." The game where people ask each other questions back and forth and the person who's answering must be honest.

She asks me 'In the time before we were going out did you mess around with any other women?' Since I'm a person of high moral character, obviously not.

Then just for fun I ask her the same question. Turns out before we were going out, she didn't. But the day we STARTED officially being a mutually exclusive couple she kissed another guy... She f*cking kissed another guy the DAY WE STARTED DATING...

I decided to give her another chance because I do have faith she won't do it again and because she started to cry and begged me not to leave her. Agree? Disagree? Comments? Thoughts?

I've got no poems right now, sorry.

A huge sigh of relief

2008-02-26T23:05:00.002-06:00

It's all good now. Thank whatever f*cking God there may be.

I found a tape not too long ago that was of a play I was in in the 4th grade. We didn't have a vcr in the house, or so I thought, until Hallee said she wanted to watch Disney movies, which we only have on vhs. So I went downstairs like the good boyfriend I am and turned the place upside down in hopes of location a video cassette recorder. Turns out my intuition and sweaty anger-throws aided my discovery of an ancient vcr.

Due to this, I had to watch my video. Because of this video I will be writing a very long poem about growing up sometime in the coming days.

Slainte, Chris.

Are all of you sexist?

2008-02-25T22:29:00.002-06:00

To paraphrase I can't f*cking believe she said that the only reason males talk to females is because they want sex. You can tell this isn't going to be a cheery post already. And if you can't, do us all a favor and euthanize yourself.

It started out a regular good conversation. Then got into the thing about her not liking me talking to other girls out of jealousy; that part is fine. Then I talk about my friends who are girls. Then she says something that is, for now and I think will remain, unforgivable.

Hallee: The only reason guys talk to girls is for sex.
Me: So it's impossible for men to actually want to talk to women because they might actually find them interesting and want to hang out with them?
Hallee: Yeah.
Me: So why do I have friends that are girls?
Hallee: I don't know... So that if a relationship doesn't work out you could go try to have sex with one of them?
Me: ....... *deep breath so I don't tell her how bad I want to kick a hole in the wall* So the only reason I'm with you or have female friends or EVER talk to any woman is because I want to stick my c*ck in her?
Hallee: Well, I mean you act like a good guy and everything but... Yeah.

Any comments or insight? Agree or disagree? Or will the faith that I've let begin to fall lead to disaster and faithlessness in women?

Phew that feels good

2008-02-20T13:17:00.002-06:00

I was talking to my girlfriend yesterday and realized it wouldn't be easy to get her unmad about that whole issue. So I skipped class with her and we talked for a good 3 1/2 hours about things that were bugging us, now we're dandy. *Mumbles something about relationships*

Anyway! I've got an OTTOTH for you today.

Screaming of the Lambs

I hear them...
Clawing at my mind,
Night after night.

They look harmless...
Until you see their rotting flesh,
And then they snap and bite.

Twisting my thoughts...
I try to rid myself of them,
Though they won't leave without a fight.

Agony seems to drive them...
Is it them or me?
If only I could find which of us was right...

Another Tuesday

2008-02-19T08:42:00.003-06:00

Bah! Fuck Mondays. They always have some sort of negative outcome, and I'm an optimistic person. More girlfriend trouble... I hope you all learn something from the situation I'm about to post.

So my girlfriend has slight ganja abuse problems. She also thinks I have slight alcohol abuse problems. Those are just for reference in the situation.

So the girlfriend, myself, and our mutual female friend decide to go to a party. Prior to said party girlfriend & friend get high. Incredibly high. Brand-name weed high, high. Again, reference.

-The Story of Why Chris is Pissed this Tuesday-

We go to this party, and I start playing beer pong. Both gf and f are still in the living room of this place, talking. A while passes and I begin to get sort of drunk, just feelin good, etc. (So no black-outs or anything, I remember the night clear as day.)
Then, eventually the party livens up and there are a hell of a lot of people there. So gf and f go into this guys room in the back. Now I wouldn't usually have a problem with this part(and it's only slight irritation) but because my girlfriend likes opiates and coke, I refuse to leave her alone too long in the bedroom of someone who sells it.
So I go in and out of the room a few times, attempt to socialize with the gf and f, and they're both too high (I've got no sources or any information pointing to if or if not gf did coke that night, but I'm guessing she didn't.) to even talk to me. So basically I'm ditched at this party, WHILE THEY'RE THERE.
I'm fine with this, ya know whatever I'm just going to go drink some more and meet new people, right? Wrong. Eventually I realize that there's no one there that isn't preoccupied with other people aside from these 2 women I don't know.
I walk over and start up a conversation for lack of anything better to do. I sit down, nurse my beer, and just talk to these two women. Eventually, since I usually do so that I can make friends and all, I ask one of them for their number.
Just as I do that, girlfriend walks out and sees me doing this. I'm fine with it, it was just an innocent conversation after I had been ditched in a whole new way, right? Wrong. She gets angry and accuses me of hitting on this girl and asking me "why would you want to party with her" and blah blah blah, blah blah, blah mother fucking blah.

So that's the story... Which took place on friday night. It's not tuesday morning and she's still pissed about it, doesn't trust me, and thinks I'm potentially unfaithful.

OH! Also, I said I'm fine with the idea that I can't meet any new females, BUT, that means she shouldn't be able to meet any new male friends either, just for fairness sake right? I'm still waiting for the girlfriends take on this because after I brought it up last night "I don't want to talk about it." became her mantra.

I think this could lead to interesting thought. I had planned on putting up an OTTOTH(off-the-top-of-the-head) poem, but I'm too angry at this given moment.

Have a good tuesday!

Valentines Day

2008-02-14T08:30:00.002-06:00

So of course I wrote a poem for my girlfriend today. Actually I wrote it the sunday before jail sunday, I'll post that one when I get my hands on it again, since I don't remember all of it off the top of my head. But today, in the spirit of this corporate scheme, I'll write 2 poems: 1 for singles and 1 for couples.

Pink Hearts on Valentines Day

Gleeful and fun
The snow outside aside
Basking in the sun
We'll make love
Until the day is done.

Cheesy phrases heard all day
The birds outside chirping
Like it was the month of May
The feelings we have swell more and more
And no one could make this feeling gray.

Pinks, whites, and all the hues of red
Complexity becomes simple
When we lay here in bed
And I can smile when I think of
All the things we've said.

The Single on Valentines Day

Unmatched amounts of bliss
The adventure unique today
Maybe just to find that kiss
On no other day
Is the search quite like this.

Something quizzical lingers in the air
The smell of something new
Not all of challenges will be fair
Though the singles push on
And break ice with a large teddy bear.

The things they hear the couples say
Could bring hope or disgust
The only thing that gets in their way
Is if they decide to not
Have a happy Valentines Day.

Jail is being a domesticated animal

2008-02-12T18:53:00.000-06:00

So I did my little stint of jail time. Only friday-sunday. It was alright. Could have been a lot worse. Surprisingly there are interesting people in jail, although every single one of them has been in and out of jail a lot. What the fuck?! You'd think after the first or second time they'd go "hey, I don't want to be stuck in here anymore." But no. They continue... Fucking idiots.

So jail. It's like being a domesticated animal. You have a small space you're confined to.

-I was in a place called the Ferris center which is a place for people to be stuck there but also get to go to work, since they weren't too bad. So it was basically a main room about 15 x 45. With 8 small off-shoots which housed 3 steel bunk-beds, and 6 lockers. There was also a bathroom which had 3 toilets, 1 urinal, 4 showers, and 4 sinks.-

So back to the animal feeling. There's the small confined place, analogous to a house for a pet. You get fed when they feed you (which was 5:15, 11:00, and 5) which is obviously how most house pets have to deal with it. You don't get to go outside. Now this is a bit different for animals, even worse one might say, because I had the ability piss whenever I wanted. Animals usually have to be let out.

I now understand why dogs get so excited when they can go for a walk. I would have attempted a backflip if one of the deputies would have put a lease on me and said "let's go outside!" even though it was -20 out.

All in all, I now will be diligently walking my dog whenever I can, or taking her for car rides or something, because we all take for granted to freedom we have just by being able to open doors.

Onto the poem. I didn't get the inspiration to write while inside jail but I did while talking to my girlfriend (who I started dating Feb 1st of this year.) on the phone last night. It was an idea that popped into my head while thinking of past relationships, so I'm going to write this off the top of my head.

Trust without Trust

You say that you care about me
You've been wrong in the past, I understand.
You say you 'mainly' trust me
Yet all of my trust you demand.

Why is it I should invest myself
When you refuse to follow suit?
Why should I give my all
When you only give the minute?

Expecting everything from me
Heart soul and mind.
Yet what I get from you
I am forced to find.

Semantics and excuses
Become your weaponry,
I do hope you realize
You're conjuring catastrophe.

No more will I endure this tragedy
Your wish no longer my command,
Our once flourishing paradise
Now lay buried by your hand.

Jail in less than 24

2008-02-07T08:51:00.001-06:00

So due to some trouble (a second OWI(operation while intoxicated)) I'm going to be in jail this weekend. Though I decided I would leave a poem for all (so... 2-5) my readers.

The Recurring Nightmare

I "wake up" to a dry puddle of tears,
Welling in my pillow,
Another day to chase nothing,
Has arrived again.

"Another day another dollar,"
"A penny saved is a penny earned,"
Why?! For what purpose?!
Who coined these mind-numbing phrases?!

I "wake up" to a dry puddle of tears,
Welling in my pillow,
Another day to chase nothing,
Has arrived again.

I guess I'll daydream,
Since I can't sleep without the dread,
I'll daydream of a deeper meaning,
Something to make -everyone- alright again.

I "wake up" to a dry puddle of tears,
Welling in my pillow,
Another day to chase nothing,
Has arrived again.

Thursdays without being thirsty suck.

2008-01-31T11:24:00.000-06:00

So it's thursday... Usually I would be eagerly awaiting a thirsty thursday at someones house, but not today. I decided a few days back that I'm going to stop drinking for a while, and I can't smoke ganja either. So I'm completely in my mind... God that's fuckin' scary. To be stuck with yourself is bad enough, but to be stuck with ME... Hope I survive it. Either way, I've got another poem, and on a side note, I've decided to run for president for 2012... Seriously.

A Vantage on Campus

I watch all the people walk by,
I wonder how many of them are high,
Maybe I should ask?

I read a chapter called "how to wonder,"
People don't have that skillful thunder?!
I would perish if I were them.

I watch them walk,
More like lumber or mindlessly stalk,
I hope none of them are terminal.

I saw a shirt that read "Hurley,"
Written in a fashion that reminded me of a swirley,
I contemplate if those are given anymore.

I watch the waves of bodies flood in,
Enemies? Friends? Possibly kin?
Any of the above are fine,
As long as they're optimistic.

Nantucket

2008-01-28T13:18:00.000-06:00

I've got another poem though this one was inspired by those "there once was a man from nantucket" poems.

In a Bucket

there once was a man from Nantucket,
Who was sure he lived in a bucket,
He hated me and he hated you,
All because his house was blue,
He had absolutely no friends,
Liked his roads to have lots of bends,
Had a dog, actually a beagle,
Utterly despised those "god damn seaguls,"
He wasn't scared at all of death,
Even though he smoked pounds of meth,
Believing we are one with the Earth,
Although he was taught Christianity from birth,
Sometimes he'd play tiddlywinks,
And often he would watch races for pinks,
But it all came down to life in the bucket,
Which is why one day he finally said "fuck it."

Martin Luther King Jr Day

2008-01-21T14:04:00.001-06:00

I'm not doing much of anything right now aside from finishing homework and waiting for a friend to call. I've got a poem for you guys, not that I'm experiencing what it's about (obviously) but I thought it's alright.

Writers Block

Seemingly insurmountable,
Anger ensues.
Life seems to stop,
As though a phantom stole your soul.
How and why are questions that ensnare,
Though they fall on the deafest of ears.
One true cure is a new muse,
Or a change of scenery,
But nothing short of a miracle,
Will stop such carnage and agony.

English 2

2008-01-17T11:20:00.000-06:00

So I'm sitting in my English 2 class, not listening to my Bulgarian teacher speaking in her accent. Nothing against Bulgaria/ns but I'm not sure she should be teaching an English class. Since none of you have really looked at my post about being robbed I guess I must have bored you and will now add a few poems.

Who Knows Where It Is We Go

It's an impossibility to know
when, where, or why we go
After death, that is.

I wonder how religious zealots
came to their conclusions?
Maybe too many drugs.

The only thing that is absolute
Is that some time we will go
Though the mystery of such a thing...

It's what drives us to be the best
the top-tier humans of our time
The unique thirst of recognition.

Hopefully one day we'll have an idea.

What in the mother of fuck...

2008-01-15T19:50:00.000-06:00

Yes, angry title for an angry post. Usually I take rejection quite well... BUT this is a fucking travesty. I didn't get published in my schools paper for my poetry, which usually wouldn't piss me off EXCEPT for the fact that "Who First?", "Flavor of Captivation", "Mosaics vs. Tile-Flooring", "Routine", and "The man then the TV" didn't win over any of these:

First place goes to:

Marilyn M. Winkley
Night Watch

I sat beside you in that pale room,
watching eyes move beneath translucent lids
fragile as a Luna moth’s wings. You,
who had been so strong, trembled under sheets,
plucked at your cathetered penis,
mewled like an infant
caught in the sweat of night terrors.

I sat by helpless, remembering
those hands, knuckles swollen
from too many fights, brushing my chestnut hair
gently, struggling to tie it back in a white satin bow.
You gave up on an exhale.
That day my hair swung free,
tangling with each rise of the swing.

The orderly said you would never wake. I
thanked him for his help, silently
wishing him to Hell. Later,
eyes dark as mine opened.
“Who took the air out of the room?” you rasped.
I had no answer as
midnight moved over and into us.

Not ready to die, you asked that I wash your hair,
clip your nails. The orderly, amazed, brought a tray.
I massaged thick liquid onto scalp, removed it
with damp cloth, towel dried your hair.
I kept the white crescents of your nail clippings.
You gave up on an exhale.
I did not cry.

Second place goes to:

Shelley Peckham
How Stella Got Her Mojo Pin Back

Tradition poisons
The death of purpose and the birth of evolution
It’s survival of the sheepish
The dream of clarity with a Das Kapital “K”
Conscience abandoned, left bleeding in the tangles of the emperor’s new clothes
Pistols at dawn, day, dusk and darkness
Wasn’t it easier when
Intelligence was ink
Death was a phone call
And you paid no attention to the man behind the curtain?
Your cause is shocked and awed into the maimed limbs of the lucky ones
My signature forged into the side of the bomber
Enola Gay Marriage Banner
Flown by those Hairy True Men
Drunk on the blood of Christ and
Choking on His flesh
Who invented new words for liar
But still, the extinguished have more to burn
And so you wave your white powder for the chemical surrender
It’s only a party after all
Purchased status of substance
Just like everything else
Get it up, slow it down and keep it together
And walk beside the new prophets
While the fifth horseman lives next door
His viscera smacking its lips
He stayed the course
He followed the tracks on my arms

Third place goes to:

Kay Kartechner
Mariposa

As the butterfly metamorphoses
within its private chamber,
to emerge and unwrap
its fragile wings of dust,
so do our souls transform…
unknown and unseen
and mysterious,
encased in ego
and earthy matter;
the grist of God’s alchemy.

Now honestly, can anyone please look back at the poems I listened, and compare them to these to either tell me I'm nuts for thinking I was robbed, or tell me that I'm right and that this is bullshit? Thank you.

Californigurgitation

2007-12-25T18:45:00.000-06:00

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.

Actually Christmas

2007-12-25T00:38:00.000-06:00

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.

Wrapping and Writing

2007-12-21T14:57:00.000-06:00

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.

Another final (Continued)

2007-12-18T11:14:00.000-06:00

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.

Another final

2007-12-18T09:54:00.000-06:00

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.

A metaphor...

2007-12-16T14:32:00.000-06:00

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.

Replenished and Renewed

2007-12-11T22:13:00.000-06:00

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.

Life is hectic...

2007-12-09T17:38:00.000-06:00

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.

8:30 on a hopful thirsty thursday

2007-11-29T08:28:00.000-06:00

Alright... It's 8:30. As you know (If you've read up to this point) I dropped my first class so I now get about an hour extra in the morning to do whatever it is I feel necessary. Sadly, since one of the roommates brothers, and his friends, stole food at the house I usually party at on Thursdays, we can no longer hold our weekly festivity of thirsty Thursday there. Which is lame and makes me sad. So my duty today is to find a new, better place to party on a Thursday!

Today I feel like free-styling a poem for everyone. In this poem, I will try to work in the work heliotropic, as per Guenette's challenge. Here it goes!

Mosaics vs. Tile-Flooring

The grout or the caulk,
Some never could tell the difference,
I find myself in the same situation sometimes,
Attempting to figure out who's where,
And where's his fake hair?

Then again there are other factors,
Which play into "Whos on first.",
And my plant being on second,
They don't realize the gum will stick,
And the man on second is heliotropic.

A grand master of his art,
Used to destroy all his pieces claiming,
They're not good enough!
Apparently he never thought of the journey,
Maybe it was that he ate too much gournay?

Some never know,
Some never think,
Some never thank,
Some never will,
Some never kill...
At least that's finally a plus, eh?

A taxing/tragic tuesday

2007-11-27T21:50:00.000-06:00

Alright, so I dropped my aerobics/weight-training class... Well, mainly I just stopped going because I missed too many classes. So... Forget it? That's all dandy with me. Just hope I pass the rest of my classes.

As for Tuesday, I've got a poem that's been in the writing book #2 for... A couple weeks now. Here it is...

Midnight in a Dream

The critter laid near
No more noise out of it
Though the bushes still rustled
At least in my mind
Like a dog chasing its tail
I continued down the pier
Maybe Jesus cheated too?
The night grew long
As the clock faded out
But I was content with the screams
Insidious eyes watched me from the clouds
The moon smiled though
Contemplation was a must
If not just for sanity
Never will I remember who called to me
Then again, never will I forget their voice
Alleyways smelled like old cheese and perfume
A mingling of scents I would seldom condone
Singing in the distance, off key of course
Familiar but indiscernible
Like a death rattle from a dwarf
Lights of neon flickering, cheap bars still open
Thunderous footsteps like a human millipede
I didn't bother to look
A window broke my train of thought
Then I realized I had made it home.

A slow saturday

2007-11-24T18:38:00.000-06:00

So it was a crazy night last night. As usual. I went to a party near Emerald st again. Good times, new people met, people I met last week re-met, went to see my lovely girlfriend, came back, saw a buncha people I didn't know, a fight broke out downstairs, got hit in the back of the head while ushering people out... I was in peace-keeper mode so, thankfully, I decided not to do anything but bitch about it. Then partied more!

So yeah, it was great fun. Though now it's Saturday and now I'm sitting at home with nothing to do but watch movies on T.V. Or, of course, write. Which it seems I shall do.

I've got another poem for ya.

Flavor of Captivation
Dark clouds loom overhead again,
But hope shines through the hole-punched depression.

The rays of god cast shadows,
Like stones over a lake.

Who still fishes for gold on the beach?
They don't know buried treasure lies in books?

Pages of unread gold, burned before birth,
The abortion of inspiration is a true crime,

Pleasant breezes make me apathetic,
Like bananas to primates in stereotypicaland.

Feeling... Down?

2007-11-20T22:53:00.001-06:00

Feeling down? Watch this crazy German kid.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBVmfIUR1DA

As for poetry I believe I've got one for ya, it's been sitting in the writing book for a couple weeks now. So here ya go.

Keep on Talkin

Talk, talk, talk,
That's all these mother fuckers do,
Maybe they should try doing something,
That requires a mind,
Drones droning about anything but that which makes sense,
Contemplating walking out is where it leaves me.

Ramble, Ramble, Ramble,
Why won't they stop?
Is it always necessary to continue?
Apparently they think it is,
Then again, I could be wrong,
Or I could be one of them too.

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch,
I guess that's all I do,
Whoever said bitching is bad,
Obviously never had to sit here,
And listen to these "geniuses",
Since I feel my I.Q. dropping just listening.

Blah, Blah, Blah,
I wonder if they ever stop,
I'm on the brink of retardation now,
So I think it's time to leave,
A migraine is an understatement as to what they left me with...
Wait... Thank SOMEONES God...

They finally stopped.

Sunday...

2007-11-18T19:13:00.000-06:00

Well, after a nice weekend of tomfoolery and falling down/up stairs, through screen doors, it's time to get to work on life again huh? Makes me sad, but hey, maybe someone will read this poem I decided to share.

The man then the TV

"A ficus, no... Wait what do they look like again?"
A balding man once asked me
The sweat on my palms dried as he walked away
Morality sounds like a strategy now-a-days
Maybe I'm the strategist?

Someone looked like the pope today
Turned out to be a computer analyst
Was I wrong to yell at that car?
It looked like shit
But smelled like money.

The stars never showed tonight
They stood me up again
The smoke from the horizon comforted me
Like cuddling with a stranger
But it felt so right.

The pictures all had the same expressions
Overly intense to the point of bordem
Fake smiles and too many polos
This fashion statement never should have been
Like too much eyeshadow or crocs.

Super-strength in ones own mind
Doesn't make up for being old
Maybe TV makes us like that
Or maybe a lack of apathy
I doubt we'll ever know.

The no hangover friday

2007-11-16T16:03:00.000-06:00

So I woke up today around 11 to a call from my favorite sexy minor. Maybe I'm a pervert for thinking such things? Either way, I'm wondering if I should give you one or two... Or maybe even my entire Haiku session from yesterday... Along with the poems I wrote... Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... We'll go with the Haikus today.

-Is It True?-
Is it true? They ask,
Sometimes I wonder myself,
Then comes apathy.

-Untrue Love- (I might have to use this title again sometime)
Fleeting emotion,
Is this actually love?
None will ever know.

-Maybe someone cares?-
Sharing is caring,
Who really cares anymore?
Ideologists?

-Deserved Sleep-
Too tired to live,
Revitalizing coma,
Rebirth tomorrow.

-Christ-
Walking on water,
Like he was gods one true son,
Wisdom was his lie.

-Inner Song-
The beat continues,
In sync with the melody,
It should never stop.

-Hope Vs. Will-
Hope can guide your path,
But will will drive you onward,
To achieve your goal.

So those are a few of my haikus... I actually decided I'll give you a full poem too. So many to choose from... Eh, I'll go with Who First?

Who First?
Who first decided to paint the sky?
Who first made music?
Who first said someone else wasn't as good as them?
Who first smoked a joint on the beach?
Who first spoke a coherent word?
Who first died of alcohol poisoning?
Who first planted a tree?
Who first found love? The true kind that is.
Who first wore a belt, rather than pants that fit?
Who first discovered god?
Who first claimed god wasn't real?
Who first ran a mile in someone else's shoes?
Who first betrayed their dearest friend?
Who first lied for personal gain?
Who first told someone they couldn't?
Who first... Wrote?

^_^

2007-11-15T10:19:00.000-06:00

Alright, so I decided to make a new blog for my anger/ranting/ire/etc... This way, those of you who enjoy my writing won't be offended & those of you who like my rantiness (yes, I made it up) won't be bored by my poetry and writing.

Fair enough?

I hope so. Have a good thirsty Thursday!

The anticipation of Thirsty Thursday...

2007-11-14T23:25:00.000-06:00

The agony of waiting to be with many a friend eats at me... I sit here listening to up-beat, intense music. Daft Punks "Homework" to be exact. I wish it had Better, Harder, Faster, Strong on it... I love that song. I hate Kanye Whiniest even more for having butchered such a good piece of music.

Well, I thought I might share another recent poem with all of you. Soon I'll also be putting one of my older short stories up here, called "The Mask". If you enjoy my writing, I think you'll enjoy it.

Lady Bug
Its hue matched the liquid on my pants,
"Is that mine or his?"
I thought, but it didn't matter anymore.

Like the tears dried from an old memory,
The lady bug had gone,
But the song it sang to me that day,
Will live on as a theme to melancholy.

Another poem I've got that I feel like sharing is up now. I got my inspiration from a title in the book Actual Air, which I was lent by my english teacher Matthew Guenette (who is linked over on the left side... If you're too slow/lazy to hold up both hands to see which one makes an L, your left is <- that-a-way.) and is by David Berman. It's quite a good read. Anyway, onto the poem.

See Ex Eye
The ground shook like after-shock,
As the train passed by,
It reminded me of anger,
But I was sad inside.

I thought of Shannon,
Knowing the last time I'd seen her,
Would be exactly that.

I can't be reminded of the past,
When they live in the future,
And goals set in the now,
Are as far past as the train.

Well, that's my post for today, hope you enjoyed it... Hope anyone read it...
Cheers to my tomorrow.

Some of my art

2007-11-13T07:14:00.000-06:00

I havn't done any art in a long time since my computer decided to commit suicide... The cause of death is still unknown, and unfixable... BUT! Here they are, my "Surreal Skapes":

Hope you enjoy them. I'm thinking of writing a poem about each one, maybe attempting to remember or re-write the metaphors behind them all...

Random poetry

2007-11-12T22:43:00.000-06:00

To preface this large post, fuck poetry.com they're a bunch of scam-artist fucks.

Also, all of this is early poetry, so try not to think too lowly of it, all of it was written between 12 and 16 years of age.

Anger
All those things,
You said to me,
All the hate,
I felt set free,
Sitting here,
Snarling teeth,
Staring blankly,
With bloody jeans,
I sit and cry,
About those times,
As the tears fall,
Into the red,
I know it would happen,
The same way again.

Enigmatic
Soon the slate will be scraped clean,
None will see the light of life,
For blind they will be,
To be able to see,
The light that is,
The Enigma,
Around the mystery,
Sitting next to the conundrum,
That blankets those who are worthy.

Her
She brings that feeling,
That feeling of bliss,
She knows I hate to say it,
That odd word kiss,
She brings out my oddities,
And some of the rest,
She makes me feel comfortable,
Not like I'm undressed,
I feel a thing,
Down deep in my gut,
She says I have talent,
Not just a shear lust,
So I write this for her,
She knows who she is,
And I want her to know,
I can say "kiss".

Loving Another
I yearn to love you, but locked in a cage,
Is your heart, your heart so tender, sweet,
And kind, I wish for all, but none abide,
I wish to see you inside out, but all is
Held, in a box of black, my mind, your
Heart, they seem to say...
"We do not love, but will never part..."

Confusion
All of the questions,
Hit me at once,
I look for the proof,
But there isn't enough.

I sleep with a tissue,
To catch my tears,
And even that memory,
Carries my fears,

The loss of the life,
I feel I've earned,
Makes me feel empty,
And I know inside . . .

Confusion will follow.

True Sadness
I thought I was tough,
I said I wouldn't cry,
It's funny about the pain,
You feel when someone dies.

I talked the same,
And stood there again,
But outside I couldn't hide,
How I really felt inside.

As the tears streamed down,
I let out no sob,
Not a whimper or a sniffle,
But still I cry.

I hate the sadness,
That certain things bring,
But I will stay strong,
For the memory of him.

The Sun Mist
The breeze that fills your elegant hair,
The glittering drops of gods tears,
The sun looks down upon your soul,
And seems to say "Hello!"

You look at the clouds, that bring the mist,
And left in the puddles,
You link the grist,
In that day, you saw a life, a life of yours,
In a forgein kind.

You run from the mist and sooth the sun,
You take the grist from all above,
The things that lasted took away,
And the you take a bath...

From the Sun's Mist.

So those are some of my early poems, hope you enjoy.

First post

2007-11-12T21:59:00.000-06:00

I thought I ought to start this out interesting, so here's a little poem that I wrote today about my job.

Routine
Yawn, coffee, ring, ring...
"Hello?"
"Hi my name-"
Click.

Yawn, coffee, ring, ring...
I hang up before they can,
This job hates me,
But I hate it more.
The routine is fine,
Kind of like hitting the snooze button,
But this time on life.

Yawn, coffee, ring, ring...
"Hello?"
"Hi my name-"
"Fuck off."
Click.

I wish they'd let me start,
Maybe if I call them obscenities first?
To grab their attention at least?

Either way, I hear it buzzing again,
Oh shit...
I can't find the snooze.

So, that's "Routine" (I would underline it, but I don't feel like putting the effort into the html right now.) I write to keep out of its loop as much as possible. There will be many more poems, short stories, rants, etc up soon. I might decide to take this habit up, who knows?