2003-11-29 - 9:26 p.m.
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Brain down for renovation. Sorry for the inconvience
I'm going to take it easy here for a little while because I've got a lot of personal cleaning up to do, some mental housecleaning so to speak. It's been a messed up time and I don't seem to know what I'm doing at all, so I'm going to take a deep breath and fix myself hardcore. In the meantime, I'm leaving a bunch of poems up for you to read. They're interesting and good and....well no, I don't know if they're good or not, but I wrote them, so there.
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Opulence
The room buzzes �round me but I�m steady calm
Steady calm outside while inside insides burn and twist
Torture inside as my innards spin and swirl
Turning round and round like carousels and tornadoes
I�m crying for you and shouting my head off inside
this turbulent rage of business, as it ravages these people
and it penetrates my soul
it sucks the life of both and it turns it into worth
My safety net devised from budgets equals opulence and calm
but I�d rather be in mischeif, poor and dying in your arms.
I�d rather fall from blazing heights and pedistal tops and cotton clouds
I�d rather drop from grace and greed
I�d rather plummet from this life
Than plod on weary, jejune and vacant
Than tread on free of your blessed grace
Than face the world without your light
I�d throw it all away and smile; worth it�s weight in sanity
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Metre
You shine through and through, oh you, oh you
With your light of compassion so true, so true
Just a mote in your sunbeam, a piece of the air
As I dance in the might of your fury and light
And the thunderous clap of the snap of the springs
On the skin as the membrane is beaten and flayed
Beat with sticks as you kick and you scream and you play
Beat with sticks as you flip and you twirl and you play.
Crash of thunderous rapture and adroit barrage
That cascades from the felt covered coffin of noise
You will the air with your fury and ease
You will the flesh with your timbre and breeze.
Booming blasts of the rhythm you thump thump thump thump
Bump my body with force from the tower of voice
Beat my heart like your thumping, my head like a drum
Beat the life in my body, my soul like my blood.
Oh you beautiful bounty of music and show
So true with your slaying of all my sorrow
Just a mote in your sunbeam, a piece of the air
Just a fraction of fury to add to the might
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flushed
One day, I�ll wake up without
a haunting air or gaunt expressions
jutting from my fallen brow
and withered cheeks sucked in with grief.
I�ll wake up one day light a load
of decimated hopes and dreams,
of memories and broken things
of days still wrought with you and me.
And then I�ll wake up cut and clean
of ghastly ghosts of love had been
of love once was and love I�ve seen
To desolate empty heart again.
Will I wake that day and shout
of exorcisms fully done?
Or will I shout and moan again
that days with you came to an end?
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Gilded
And each day you taste is just one more towards dying
so die like you think you have nothing to waste
but you can waste it all and it still won�t add solice
or ease or calm or help or truth.
You can�t fix the fake and you can�t take the rest
but you can take a rest and you can fake a fix.
But you�ll find as you wasted those precious few moments
you�ve put yourself paces behind the front line.
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Questions
What do you do when you�re already dead,
When you�ve given the life that you had inside and you�ve nothing to show but the shell?
Where do you go from there?
Where do you go from the pits of despair when you�ve reach for the high and were given the low? Where do you go?
How far can you leave from your problems and pains?
How long can you leave them behind you and can you?
Can you escape from the demons who haunt you when everything seems to be toppling down?
Why are we tortured with reason and reasons?
Why are we flogged with our yes and our no?
When is the sweet release from your poison after it enters your heart and pumps through your veins?
When is the moment the sun breaches clouds hung right overhead and angry and gray?
Who is where your why is and what are they doing? How will you can your want today?
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Pangs
Must keep my eyes open and keep breathing and blood pumping and body going, must maintain the minor difficulty of living. Cannot be impeded by sleep or escapes from the edge of life and it�s precarious twists. I�m troubled by the urges deep within me by my own body parts rebelling and fighting against their designed purposes. I can feel things in me fading, feel pieces dulling as they are ground into submission by the random acts of the day. It pushes fear directly to my brain to think that I�m slowly decomposing as I walk through all of this chaos, all of this maddness wildly spinning it�s way into oblivion at the monotonous flow of disaster. How relevant do things seem knowing that they will be gone one day? How significant are actions and creations when you realize they will be eliminated by the marching tick of time? Does it not chill you to your bones the way mine shiver to know that our most feverishly accomplished monuments of triumph are ammo for destruction? It takes years to build what seconds can destroy and it takes years to rebuild what seconds can destroy and it takes years of rebuild to realize you can destroy and it takes years of destroy to show you how to build. I�m appalled that we would bother clinging so intently to the throes of survival as we plod uncaringly to our ultimate failure. But we march on like time, our hands spinning wildly across our face as we trickle our breath out of lungs �til it stops. Keep trickling breath from our lungs �til it stops and we keep marching on until tasting the end
The biggest room you'll ever clean is your mind. Time to go clean my mind.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
