| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|05:48 pm] |
I once heard somewhere
that a map of the universe,
it's parts and spaces (ones and zeros),
mirror a thought or synapse or brain wave up to 99.5%.
That .5% is that source
of humanity, art, surprise,
the elite
that justify the %99.5 of the waves in prison. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|05:36 pm] |
orals, limits sin,
only sin is limitation,
extreme end is end of human race.
No sex. Limit upon action,
self containment leads to assumption
of other selves needing to be
self contained,
even though in pure intention their is little influence
on a good day.
That $90 I lent my friend,
not asking for it back,
may be an attempt at self glorification,
being seen as that guy
who doesn't care for moneyand rusts not over worldly things--
money just an embodiment of fluidity,
defamation of it is defamation of body,
body source of movement.
Sad thing, bodilessness, boring,
all things eternal boring.
Read Nietzsche,
even at parties when things died down,
read about righteous hatred,
hatred for the decadent,
precedent for the remedy of limit.
Some poetic condition,
some sickness of metaphysical murder
caused me to start becoming moral,
to hate myself for going against
going against things that go against existence,
hate of hate, absurdity, awareness (by choice)
that nonexistence is holy,
earthy things (even innocent as trees)
makes shadows in the realm of light God.
Possibly knew that the super (beyond) moral
was right, and my synthetic reasoning
led me to believe
that imperfection in the senses is what gave perspective,
but unconsolidated perpective is an equivocation,
an equivocation of a drunk gatekeeper.
Basically, if one took away the prism
that breaks oneness into variation,
we would all, by inherency, turn to pure white light,
giving colour to the universe,
complementing it and supplementing ourselves with purpose,
instead of having colours out of the prism,
existing in the vacuum,
justifying it by calling colours things in themselves. |
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| complete. |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|06:42 pm] |
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Little bits and pieces
All floating down the street
Looking for something
To hold onto,
For something
Solid,
Whole,
Complete. For they will never find
The things they've left behind.
They are scraps
They are crumbs
Of a story once told
But somehow, I guess,
It just got too old.
No one remembers,
There's no one who cares. So now they are searching,
They are savage,
They're afraid.
What if there's nothing?
What records remain? In this life
There is only
So much you can see.
Until the world is gone,
We will never be free
To live apart from the pieces
That we've already shed. That day only comes
When our bodies are dead. |
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| Unpainted Canvas |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|04:10 pm] |
This is a whole poetry book, not long (so you can easily read it), but very very good. I'm linking this book with permission; I thought I'd share it because GOOD poetry is hard to come by nowadays. Please read and vote on this book of poems. This is a very good writer trying to get back on her feet in the writer's world, and her work is truly good.
The book is called Unpainted Canvas. It is a collection of verses.
( Click for links to more of Chanctetinyea's poetry ) |
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| Recently I Found |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|02:36 pm] |
Recently I found out
that you can't make someone love you,
even if you lay at their feet
pleading for second chances
and amorous glances.
I found out
that people are always going to let you down
and consequently
the only person
you can trust wholeheartedly in life
is yourself.
I found
that standing up for what you believe in
can start both revolutions and riots,
but either way
it makes you feel alive.
Recently I found
that a 'yes' is sometimes a 'no'
that someone was too afraid to admit
because they love you.
I found out
that you'll always feel better
if you face the things you dread
rather than run from them.
I found
my voice amidst all the others
preaching their influences at me
every chance they got,
and I found
that it took me twenty-three years to do so.
Recently I found
that only a few friends will remain at your side
as the years fall away,
but the ones that will remain
are golden.
I found
that taking too many photographs
is OK;
you'll have something to look back on
when the world strains to remember.
I found out
that my arms are meant for hugging
and holding
and helping you stand
when your legs can't bear the weight anymore,
and I found
that I leave myself spilling, listless,
on pages
most will never see,
but that's all right with me.
Recently I found
there are some things
you never really get over
because they left marks on your heart,
and I found out
that you're allowed to think about them
once in a while.
I found
that lists are helpful
and goals are even better,
especially the kind
that make you do things
you never imagined you could do.
I found
things I'd lost,
things I no longer care for
and things I've missed.
I found
the woman in the girl
and let her emerge from me.
Recently I found
that the Stones were right:
you can't always get what you want;
I also found
that the Beatles were right, too:
love is all you need.
I found
that the little things
don't really matter
unless they make you happy
and I found
that life is much more enjoyable
when you actually pause to enjoy it.
Recently I found
that I'm not limited to anyone's expectations
and therefore I shouldn't feel pressured by them.
I found
that I can exist without him
and without him.
I found
that I can't sit around
and wait for things to happen to me
and I found
that I am not invincible
but I am strong.
Recently I found
that it's OK,
you're OK,
we're all OK,
even when we feel unbearably weak,
we're OK.
And I found
that to be OK
in a world such as this
is to be
OK
with life
with love
with myself
and also with the world.
--dlf |
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| like the wind, i wish to disappear |
[Dec. 24th, 2009|12:36 am] |
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i fell from great heights
from happiness i once held
it is like losing a ray of light
and i could do is yelled
i wanted freedom and love
but never got the chance to make it happen
i want freedom and love
but to him its a lament
why could i not have the chance to love
to fly to the horizon with courage and bravery
everything above
yet far away from me
all i want is the feeling
but i got nothing
the purest feeling
and still not a single beating
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|11:09 am] |
a sunny life is led by none.
storms will come.
sometimes the wind won't give up
and the rain feels like rocks
falling from gray
just to fuck up your day.
some storms
will break your bones
and leave you crumbled
in pieces.
no matter how prepared you are
sometimes there's
nothing
you
can
do. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|10:57 am] |
i seem to keep meeting you
most nights these days
some of them i crawl under your words
and use them as a blanket
others i light myself on fire
to stave off the darkness
the glow of the screen
in the otherwise lightless room
makes me into a ghost
and reminds me how haunting
this lonliness can be |
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| Start of Snow |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|02:46 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  happy | ] |
“I know you have to go,
‘cause it’s the start of snow.”
Days would pass, another week
months would leave a sad streak
of long excruciating grief
the dying of the autumn leaf.
Coldness would fill the spaces
of my warm beloved west
it’s time to thicken my dress
for draftiness fills my breast.
The town covered with white powder
where once we were sweet lovers
but now at this precise hour
we are but rotten flowers.
I’m lying here all alone
trying to vanquish the cold
by putting all these behind
daisies would be fully grown
my faith in you I should hold
forever won’t be all this time.
©BOGART™
* Check out my journal page for more poems from me :)
(poems include: TSUNAMI, MOUTHFUL and SINCE THE START)
Comment your thoughts :D |
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| mirror |
[Dec. 23rd, 2009|12:27 am] |
I often look into the mirror, waiting for it to speak,
to tell me 'The Answer' and it never does.
My image just stares back and then I want to break
that mirror to smithereens... all of that because,
I cannot find my self, my truth, or my sanity,
I'm searching for the calm within; true calm, no din.
When searching the mirror, it appears as blatant vanity,
But, I'm really looking deeper than just my skin.
I see the background switch and change;
I hear the sounds, see the seasons-go-round,
I'm dizzied, flushed, frazzled, estranged,
laughing, crying,
aloof and dying,
and then no sound... no worries
A mirror tells no lies
it only tells a tale
of long ago and now, (you know?)
but never
tomorrow's story.
(C) eroticmiranda |
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| Vitali Chaconne |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|09:32 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  blank | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Sarah Chang | ] |
This is my first post to a community, and I'm still fairly new to LiveJournal. So please excuse me if I do anything wrong.
I wrote this while listening to a violin piece by Sarah Chang, called Vitali Chaconne.
Here is the link - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AloBa9SPM7U
VITALI CHACONNE A burst, unequaled energy rising above the atmosphere and landing low on polished pebbles An uprising, a taunting crescendo pulling on tides that long ago were dammed sways and tugging, the barrier has broken over flowing. Filling spaces of the being and the unasked Comprehension, a knowing that fills the air It quickens, that pulse that shall ensure breath Creating something unrecognizable to the civilized mind Rewinding to a primal states of basic instinct Pathos and uncertainty and beauty It strains against something that cannot be reached Harsh and soft, an intertwining that causes brows to furrow in concentration A piping bird sings off in the distance of a wavering moon a woman creates a rhythm that makes confusion and sense A violin manipulated to evoke what we once thought no real So is the result of Vitali Chaconne.
- Leeza Dennis
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| down the drain |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|10:28 pm] |
peel back the onion
the unimaginable terror
beneath our second skins
tempered by friction
angelic phalanx
we are all sinners
sitting in darkness
to avoid our own reflections
underneath the soil
tunnels the serpent
beneath the veil of night
deconstructing all
one thousand layers
of shame on the floor
and for all my tears
i still have not found my core |
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| The Dancer |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|09:54 pm] |
|
[[I wrote this while watching the movie "Center Stage" this movie inspired all of these words, and some of it has to do with conforming, yeah I know I'm kinda like a hippy lmao!! Well, Listening to The Beatles isn't making it any better lmao again]]!
The Dancer
Controlled swan dance moves
A doll face
And tears smudging the blush
Feet throbbing
People in wonder
Everyone's a critic
Comes, the day
The audition
When all eyes are on the dancers
Who will love them?
Pin point just one who's "perfect"
The ballet slippers on the foot of the tup,
Filled with ice,
Are bleeding
Hard work
She is a dancer
A prima ballerina
Her pirouettes define her
She needs to get in
Who will love her beautiful dancing?
Who will appreciate her blossoming silhouette?
Someone will
And that someone will save her
By Wilmary
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|09:48 pm] |
Soft and majestic,
they float to the
ground. They're
white, and they sparkle;
ice gives off a new
type of light.
They drift in the wind-
are part of it-
before they hit the
ground. They
will melt, go to
the sky,
freeze, and float
to the ground...
once again.
As they drift in the
wind-
Tell me...
How long until
hypothermia sets in? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|06:15 pm] |
Brother Moon
The crescent moon sometimes feels neglected:
cut into unfulfillment by an injustice of circumstance,
resenting that this incompletion is romantic characteristic;
thinking about how even at it's best half of it as yang,
(and yes it supposes the dot of white is excitement of mystery,
but that seems so drudgingly overdone);
viewing the earth as something in the way--
in its most optimistic reason concluding
"All things that give observation and purpose to an entity
will inevitably block its light." |
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| I Did Not Change Him |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|08:32 pm] |
I Did Not Change Him I did not change him I did not change him I didn’t tell him to smart mouth you I did not tell him to use sarcasm As a power against you I did not change him I only helped him bring out His insides I did not change him I did not tell him to smart mouth you And I did not tell him to use sarcasm As power over you I did not change him I did not change him I didn’t tell him to smart mouth you I did not tell him to use sarcasm As a power against you I did not change him What? Are you mad that he’s different? What? Are you mad it wasn’t with you? What? What? What? Are you angry that he opened up with me… And not you? I did not change him I did not change him I didn’t tell him to smart mouth you I did not tell him to use sarcasm As a power against you I did not change him He wouldn’t let you near him before He wouldn’t even let you talk to him Wouldn’t let you bring him to conversations And now you hate it when he talks There is no winning here By Wilmary
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| ...need feedback. |
[Dec. 22nd, 2009|01:51 am] |
In a fit of inspiration I wrote these pretty quickly. I would love if some of you amazingly talented people would help me fill in the gaps.
The first poem is about childhood friends reuniting in adulthood. They are "catching up" and the speaker uses the irony of the phrase to detail her experience in the friendship as constantly trying to catch up to her friend. I'm sure it could be longer.
Catching up
Go on ahead.
I’ll meet you,
In a few.
Now, where’s my shoe…
*
Are the laces still tangled up
In the bicycle chain?
Am I wrapped around wheel?
Am I trailing behind?
Was I pushed and rushed to
Catch up?
Was I too slow for you?
I’m coming,
I’m coming,
I’m coming!
*
…I’ll be right there.
*
Growing up on the wall.
Not quite flowering, yet.
It took three extra years
For my body to catch up to yours
Which one of us was the stocky bean
Pod-
With no bumps in sneakers?
*
Here we are.
Right on time.
We are paler people-
Full of color
Full of nostalgia.
We nurse our beer.
We move slow.
We are linked together.
We share pain now.
No need to trip over it.
No need to catch up.
The ties are pulled together.
This one is something I wrote after finding out that a boy I grew up with who was kind of a ladies man is having a baby. I think I like the wording here, but I really want it to be smart and not whiny and bitter or come across as some old lady's curse hah. Any advice?
I hope you have a little girl
Bundled in pink
Pure
And perfect
Unassuming
And darling.
There will come a day,
My oldest friend,
That a young man
With brown eyes will
Catch her fancy
And she will be riveted
In the heart
Boomboomboomboomboom.
And that young boy will
Woo her,
And vanish.
Leaving you to bundle up
And carry off
Her little blue broken pieces
Pure
And perfect
Unassuming
And weeping.
© amt |
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| Siren |
[Dec. 21st, 2009|07:34 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Dullsville | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  sleepy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | She Wolf by Shakira | ] |
Short skirt
with dark tights
plastic daggers
hide bitten nails
tempting siren
lures them in
ugly black dot
birthmark near her lip
slanted cat eyes
secret sharp teeth
biting her tongue
hummingbird tattoo
coarse hands on her back
dance on dirty stages
hopeless dreams
showing skin
too much leg
a middle finger
and a wicked grin
pawned necklace
old perfume
glares as cold as ice
and an occasional smile
-Shelby |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2009|12:29 pm] |
It's through your unexplored spectrum
that the universe seems more interesting.
Without your consoling consolidation of energy
the cosmos seem only cold dust.
Within your organic chemistry
I predate the birth of stars. |
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| Resolution |
[Dec. 21st, 2009|07:23 pm] |
Drunk, they gather, full of anticipation, expectations and full of wonder
Of a new year yet unknown and could this be what auld Burns meant?
But as the bells chime out twelve times, I stand and watch, and ponder
Of what cheer and hope there is to be found in a future already spent?
© Donna Roberts |
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