It has been the same as far back as I can remember. Even though I spend many conscious moments attempting to force my mind to travel in this beautiful way, I am never able to recreate the flight...not in words, not in ink, not in thought. But, I have learned a day’s dream can fuel a nighttime’s tryst.
And so, it is always late at night and always when I am most hopeful that it begins. At the bottom of the stairs I stand and wait. The moment is always the same. I take a deep breath, and then with my arms outstretched, I lean forward. The lift is immediate. I glide easily up the staircase, out into to the open expanse of the room, and then out the front door.
Once outside, I rise even further and the world below me becomes smaller and I become bigger. I am always alone while I fly. I am light. Flight is effortless and I am unencumbered. I am fearless. And, as I acknowledge that wonderful feeling I become aware that I will soon wake up and it will be over. I will return to my feet with gravity’s hold on me and the notion that I can accomplish anything as long as I stand.
p.s. my pockets are lined with holes big enough to hold coins and small enough to sift dirt.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I would like to credit the photographer and thank her for sharing her work.
Your words are what give value to this space.
Never do that again.
Yes, I am aware.
Art by: Toujours
No Contest
even if no one gets me, if i'm the only one laughing at my jokes, i won't hide myself away from life. it's uncertain and it's dirty and it's fucking exciting, and i want to be a part of all of it.
it's too good to waste in hiding.
toujours
February, 21, 2009 1:27 AM
it's too good to waste in hiding.
toujours
February, 21, 2009 1:27 AM
heart full
Today on my way home from class, I stopped off at the petrol station for some petrol. I paid on my card which wasn’t a lot, and then as I was getting into my car, I saw an old man walking past the building. He had a red and green stripy jumper which was frayed at the ends. He was also wearing some jeans that were dirty and had holes all over.
I sat there and became intrigued by him because I didn’t know what he was doing, so as I sat there and watched him, he continued doing what he set out to do.
He walked past the trash cans and first picked out a cup with some drink still in it (one of the cups that you get from burger king that has coke in it). He then walked over to the next trash can and pulled out the end of a half eaten sandwich. In my shock horror, he ate it and then went to sit on the wall to drink the drink he had found.
I felt sad, I wanted to give him my last $4 that I had but I was told when I was younger that you should never give people money, you should give them something they need or can use because that way, if they had an addiction, they would not be able to use the money for their addiction. So I went into the shop and bought a chicken sandwich from their deli counter and then walked out of the building.
The guy was still sat at the wall drinking his drink so I walked up to him and asked him if he would like this sandwich. He thanked me and said that he was hungry.
I should of felt good after that, doing something for someone else but all I could think of is where his next meal will come from or where in fact he will sleep tonight.
Fimble Star
September 30, 2008 8:08 PM
(Tonight, although I am cold and my feet are sore, my belly is full.)
I sat there and became intrigued by him because I didn’t know what he was doing, so as I sat there and watched him, he continued doing what he set out to do.
He walked past the trash cans and first picked out a cup with some drink still in it (one of the cups that you get from burger king that has coke in it). He then walked over to the next trash can and pulled out the end of a half eaten sandwich. In my shock horror, he ate it and then went to sit on the wall to drink the drink he had found.
I felt sad, I wanted to give him my last $4 that I had but I was told when I was younger that you should never give people money, you should give them something they need or can use because that way, if they had an addiction, they would not be able to use the money for their addiction. So I went into the shop and bought a chicken sandwich from their deli counter and then walked out of the building.
The guy was still sat at the wall drinking his drink so I walked up to him and asked him if he would like this sandwich. He thanked me and said that he was hungry.
I should of felt good after that, doing something for someone else but all I could think of is where his next meal will come from or where in fact he will sleep tonight.
Fimble Star
September 30, 2008 8:08 PM
(Tonight, although I am cold and my feet are sore, my belly is full.)
It helped.
Jennicula,
Thank you for sharing your story. Although it only appeared briefly, I was lucky enough to have caught it.
Once upon a time, for me, that was the best part of this place...having my words related back to me from another's perspective.
And it never mattered to me who said it, just that it meant something to the writer.
Thank you for sharing your story. Although it only appeared briefly, I was lucky enough to have caught it.
Once upon a time, for me, that was the best part of this place...having my words related back to me from another's perspective.
And it never mattered to me who said it, just that it meant something to the writer.
Blog header image by: Anima
I would like to credit the photographer and thank her for sharing her work.
something
Don't let anyone tell you how to live your life. Hold your head up high and be proud of who you are. If you've had a shitty day and you feel like people just don't want you to be happy, and when you find yourself struggling to make it through the day, just keep on believing and keep the faith. Also, from personal experience, don't push people away. When they say they want to help and that they are there for you, let them in. Believe me, I know how fucking scary that thought is, but don't shut others out.
paperheartxx
September 22, 2008 11:07 PM
paperheartxx
September 22, 2008 11:07 PM
Retro-spectacled
Sometimes, when you look back on stuff in your life, you know, the crap that makes you shake your head and say, "Holy shit, what the Hell was I thinking?" it's part of what makes you - you.
I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I have made small mistakes and really big, fucking scary mistakes. Would I change those mistakes and blunders?
No. Wanna know why?
Because they make me - me. They help make up the person that I am, what I've learned the hard way. Hopefully I've learned from my mistakes and have become a better person for it. And, hopefully I don't repeat those same mistakes. Although, sometimes I repeat variations of certain ones, but I'm working on that. :)
Jennicula
June 11, 2008 11:19 AM
I'm not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I have made small mistakes and really big, fucking scary mistakes. Would I change those mistakes and blunders?
No. Wanna know why?
Because they make me - me. They help make up the person that I am, what I've learned the hard way. Hopefully I've learned from my mistakes and have become a better person for it. And, hopefully I don't repeat those same mistakes. Although, sometimes I repeat variations of certain ones, but I'm working on that. :)
Jennicula
June 11, 2008 11:19 AM
aloft
Blazing against the sun
like locusts,
samaras swarm the sky
and skitter to an earthly end,
dry
like clever words.
I want to make them fly up,
flip heaven upside down
and dance across the top of hell
and sing your thoughts
to the sound of thunder
that you love so well,
rip open the littered sky
and bathe in the light
or draw across the firmament
the blanket of the night.
In only a day they have
covered the ground,
their brief flight
yielding nothing permanent
on infertile land,
a fleeting moment of swarming glory
that calls to mind our own
short story:
Diamonds and petals,
the loom and the light,
the inkdark moon, foxfire marsh,
an open, waiting hand.
Clever winged seeds
of childhood reminiscent--
and like the idiot grown-up heart,
as stubbornly indehiscent.
Weaver Girl
May 26, 2008 11:27 PM
like locusts,
samaras swarm the sky
and skitter to an earthly end,
dry
like clever words.
I want to make them fly up,
flip heaven upside down
and dance across the top of hell
and sing your thoughts
to the sound of thunder
that you love so well,
rip open the littered sky
and bathe in the light
or draw across the firmament
the blanket of the night.
In only a day they have
covered the ground,
their brief flight
yielding nothing permanent
on infertile land,
a fleeting moment of swarming glory
that calls to mind our own
short story:
Diamonds and petals,
the loom and the light,
the inkdark moon, foxfire marsh,
an open, waiting hand.
Clever winged seeds
of childhood reminiscent--
and like the idiot grown-up heart,
as stubbornly indehiscent.
Weaver Girl
May 26, 2008 11:27 PM
Electric Blue
…today I saw a ulysses butterfly it was in our yard and settled to feed on our hibiscus. They really are fantastically beautiful things, the electric blue is amazing, however as they sit with their wings closed they are rather nondescript and dull. Sometimes people are like that, from the outside they seem unappealing but within there hides an amazing beauty for those lucky enough to see it. I hope you appreciate beauty in all things, and look for it perhaps where others miss it.
ergoproxy
April 29, 2008 4:45 AM
ergoproxy
April 29, 2008 4:45 AM
LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL.
I read your post again and suddenly without warning memories of construction paper filled my head. I remembered all the lop-sided flowers my girls made when they were young. Bright blue, yellow and pink flowers that were cut out with blunt end scissors would fill the windows to decorate for Easter. An occasional bunny was attempted but those usually ended up looking like creatures from a horror movie. Flowers were so much easier. I can close my eyes and hear the paper being cut into petals. I can smell the Elmer’s glue squirted on in huge blobs to attach each misshapen petal to form the flowers. We had a huge arts and crafts box full of wonderful items just waiting for their imaginations to turn into something wonderful. In my mind I see my daughters, as they once were, small, blond little girls sitting on the floor surrounded by scraps of paper and other art supplies. They would create their masterpieces then proudly show each other. Oh and Lord the messes that would ensue if the glitter made an appearance. Now, the box is forgotten. I’m not really sure where it even is anymore. The few flowers so lovingly created that survived are faded and dusty and high on a shelf they sit. Time marches on, so many things get left behind.
Today was the first Easter I spent alone. I don’t think it really upset me until I remembered the construction paper flowers. Of course I understand that my daughters are growing up and have lives of their own. But understanding doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I miss my little girls in their frilly Easter dresses. I miss the laughter that filled the house when they found what the Easter Bunny left for them. And I miss making the damn flowers.
Elena
March 24, 2008 3:57 AM
Today was the first Easter I spent alone. I don’t think it really upset me until I remembered the construction paper flowers. Of course I understand that my daughters are growing up and have lives of their own. But understanding doesn’t make it any easier to accept. I miss my little girls in their frilly Easter dresses. I miss the laughter that filled the house when they found what the Easter Bunny left for them. And I miss making the damn flowers.
Elena
March 24, 2008 3:57 AM
From the corner.
I wonder if you noticed
all our friends playing
Some had never tried before
and the result was amazing.
Poems from the corner
from the left and right
We did our best to keep them flowing
Late into this night.
If nothing else was accomplished
I hope we made someone see
How truly beautiful and amazing
a poem can be.
Sdock10
March 13, 2008 11:36 PM
all our friends playing
Some had never tried before
and the result was amazing.
Poems from the corner
from the left and right
We did our best to keep them flowing
Late into this night.
If nothing else was accomplished
I hope we made someone see
How truly beautiful and amazing
a poem can be.
Sdock10
March 13, 2008 11:36 PM
Thank You. Truly.
"This little world has grown around us, out of nothing, and it is a remarkable thing. Even the dark and dirty parts, the violent parts. Humanity will not thrive without passion."
Redrum
March 1, 2008 3:13 AM
Redrum
March 1, 2008 3:13 AM
Uncondensed
Your words are what give value to this space.
Never do that again.
Yes, I am aware.
Character Advocacy.
"Don't ever pretend to be something you're not. You are who you are, and no one can change that. The people who don't like the real you are just gonna have to suck it. Don't take shit from anyone. Don't crumble. Throw a few birds, and walk on.
I'm still trying to do this, so maybe we can work on it together."
mustardisbetter
January 16, 2008 4:48 PM
I'm still trying to do this, so maybe we can work on it together."
mustardisbetter
January 16, 2008 4:48 PM
Art by: Toujours
“I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory.”
Jean-Dominique Bauby
Jean-Dominique Bauby
2,128 comments:
«Oldest ‹Older 401 – 600 of 2128 Newer› Newest»I meant I wasn't enjoying it here because of the fighting.
My sincerest apologies, Anon.
I don't enjoy it either, but I sit back, let it takes its course, and don't get involved. It's the best thing to do.
Anytime this many people congregate in one area, there will differences of opinion. But, that's up to those particular people to take care of it, you know?
It's when we have cruel, heartless people come in throwing insults in every direction that it becomes more than some can handle. The only people that can stop that are the people doing the insulting. The rest of us are forced to sit and watch it happen and help where we can.
jules, you have arrived yay.
bend over botch and let me kiss/spank it
Aww, Fim! ALWAYS. ;D
Jules! You and I are in love with Mayo because you can't get a man and I won't leave mine. Niiiiiiiice!
And if Mayo turns out to be GV, then we can have a threesome!
How hot would that be?
seriously, i am trying to set up a youtube account and place videos on it but i havnt a clue. plodding along as usual
and now i am going for me tea. i will be back in 10
Like in all honesty, I don't give a fuck about her looks.
K is a very crude person when you get down to it. If you question her, she will try to go below the belt. I have seen it before and she seriously takes it to a whole new level.
Anon 8:33
We may not be close or anything, but I happen to think K has a lot of talent, and no, I am not kissing ass, just stating an opinion.
As far as GV being Mayo is concerned, does that mean that the whole time I was liking a woman in disguise? ^_~
LOL
The insults are not in every direction, it's to get you to see how undivided it is because of how people automatically take the 'leader' position.
sdock10 said...
Jules! You and I are in love with Mayo because you can't get a man and I won't leave mine. Niiiiiiiice!
And if Mayo turns out to be GV, then we can have a threesome!
How hot would that be?
Damn man, you know that would end up on Youtube.*
So you guys, you anons I mean, have inundated my blog, huh? Nice of you. Well, I wish that you would offer some constructive criticism of the poem then, instead of calling names and talking about how ugly I am etc. The poem can use a bit of work and I am always open to suggestion.
*and be really popular ;D
Yes BC, that's exactly what it means.
Lol, Kap wishes GV was Mayo.
Thanks BC.
Sdock, I use to admire you but you ended up very snobby too. :/
our right she does. This blog is abunch of dikes and Kap already knows that GV loves her. They are sick. Well the whole group they have here are sick and wrong.
I must go wash my eyes then. They have been substantially soiled ^_^
Hello to everyone who arrived.
Wow.
Psh. Kap talked shit about BC relentlessly. She never gives anyone credit unless you fucking worship the ground she walks on.
"He was a cocky, vindictive little boy who took his pain out on other people;"
You're Peter Pan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It's such a shame this place has become elitist.
Hey fuck you, just because I think Kap wishes she was GV doesn't mean I don't like GV.
GV actually has some brain and talent. Way more creative than Kap.
OK GV, calm down
Yeh she ignores everyone else and now Sdock is the same way. It's a click of girls who can only be popular by internet personnas because no one can stand them in real life, the ugly fat losers. It all includes Fimble Star, and Mustard who USED TO BE cool until Mayo quoted her and she started hanging out with that click. Now she's ass kissing too and you know it's all she has, she an ugly pathetic virgin in real life.
Anonymous said...
Sdock, I use to admire you but you ended up very snobby too.
I am sorry that you feel that way. When this blog started, I used to be on all the time. I could blog from my job and home. But not now. I am gone and out of the loop most of the time. I have lost connections with certain people. It happens. I don't know what else to do.
You're welcome K.
Anon, dykes? Dude, that's harsh.
GV doesn't even lurk her anymore. She just blogs.
Anonymous said...
Hey fuck you, just because I think Kap wishes she was GV doesn't mean I don't like GV.
GV actually has some brain and talent. Way more creative than Kap.
You're a reg, clearly, because you know what my real name is and you're avoiding it on purpose. Which one? It doesn't matter.
But we do agree; GV has tons more talent than I have and a much more fluid way with words.
Anon about the clique
So very fucking true.
Actually Kap, I have no idea what your real name is nor do I give a fuck.
It's a shame that people have to be so damn mean and hateful.
How sad that some anons choose to use 'virgin' and 'fat' as insults.
It says more about you than it does about them.
Actually Kap, I have no idea what your real name is nor do I give a fuck.
GV i Mayo you assholes. She writes just like him. Mayo plays up to Kapu. She wrote a poem about a bird at night and then you get this post. GV is in love with Kapu and Sdock, IN LOVE, like actual obssessive love. Think about it also how ALIKE they sound.
Anonymous said...
Psh. Kap talked shit about BC relentlessly. She never gives anyone credit unless you fucking worship the ground she walks on.
March 16, 2008 8:47 PM
-------------------------------------
I'm not sure what to say about that, anon. People are free to talk shit about me all the time, because a long time ago, I knew that not everyone is going to like me. It's a part of life, you can't force people to like someone.
But just because of that, it does not mean that I'm gonna turn around and talk shit about the person who's talking shit about me. No way.
In all honesty, I have no beef with anyone here. And that includes Kapunua. Life is too fucking short to have internet beefs with people you talk to online on a daily basis.
O god PLEASE DO NOT MAKE HER EXPLAIN HER NAME. I hat when she does that.
Everybody talk shit about BC behind her back and in front of her because she's the stupidest person on here and it's easy.
Actually I'm coming speaking for the anons that are not ACTUALLY going below the belt.
Saying bitch and cunt, I actually agree with the ones about the clique.
It's very fucking true and yes it naturally happens, yet the way it formed is truly sad. In all reality, they grew to feel as if they are above others. Even if you're not a regular and you question their authority, they immediately will corner you and try to go below the belt. Well Kapuana really will.
She's very spiteful and there's alot of e-mails that go around agreeing but denying so out in public. It's sad how scared people are.
Like Miss Tot.
Anon 8:52
I agree. Smoke, yes it is.
How can you guys be so hateful?
You hat?
Hat is a very strong word anon.
This is insane.
Like Miss Tot.
It's funny, Love Man said the exact same thing. She also calls her "Miss Tot."
Anon 8:54
Your comment is ignored.
sdock10 said...
How can you guys be so hateful?
Don't you mean it's "hatful" Solly?
I'm hatful. I do have quite a few hats.
It's the actual truth and GV isn't in love with Kap by the way.
The clique shit, true.
Kap being very spiteful, true.
Anon 8:54
Your comment is ignored.
I have NEVER seen a person above 8 years old TELL someone "your comment is ignored" instead of just ignoring it. You are so stupid it leaves me amazed.
I thought alot of people called her Miss Tot?
Miss Tot? ^_^
Okay so we have so far...
Smok
Miss Tot
hatful
ummm, what else?
I called her Miss Tot. The one who is walked on alot?
Love Man was calling me "Kap" too and, huh, also said she didn't care what my real name was.
For the lazy, you are free to just call me "K", I mean, if your fingers are getting that tired from typing so much. I understand it's very taxing on you.
too low. the anon who insulted people, too fucking low. maybe you should look in the mirror and say that to yourself and see if you like it.
why cant you all calm down, if you do not like someone then move along. you dont have to like everyone, you dont have to talk to everyone. seriously, stop the bullying please
Anonymous said...
I thought alot of people called her Miss Tot?
Of course you did.
LOL Re: currency and change in your pockets, I know it's not what you meant but my mind is always LOLPUN. Sorry Mayo. ^_^ I'm retarded like that.
I thought their were gonna call her Miss Tatertots lol (sorry Miss T)
Come on line, you guys. ^_^ This post is a good one, and we can have fun theorizing behind Mayo's back. ;)
Love Man is here? O.o
She/He only comes when people talk shit I thought...Dude,lovin' this
Err, I mean on AIM. You are obviously online. O_O
Beware the Ides of March.
Anon 9:51
Nah. "Love Man" is a chick.
LMAO
Ides of March. I was going to say that early.
ohhhh and it all comes out now doesnt it.
being cornered well we all know about that dont we anon at 8.54
lets just say being cornered and miss tot was used by two different people. nice to see you around these parts again. :)
oh and leave misst out of this. she aint dont anything.
BC,
ohhhhhh.
Yeah, the stuff that this anon is saying is, a lot of it, word for word what Love Man said to me in a private chat. She also just said something else that was from a chat she had with another person that they told me about. So, yeah.
Hello Julius Caesar anon.
But Loveman types more cryptic, I thought?
Anon 9:03
Yep. If one of the anons were "Love Man"
One word: Busted.
Anon, I think she types cryptic so it won't be make sense to other person except herself.
I'M LOVEMAN AND I HATE THE KAPUANA CUNT.
No one naturally speaks in such a way. It's an act. Did you not know that?
Do you think when Mayo speaks to his closest friends face to face, he speaks in metaphors and poems?
Hilarious.
Well, she's got her friends in on it, too. That's what she's talking abotu with me "going beneath the belt" LOL. She's pissed because I don't believe that her friend Sara Black is "Kat."
That's other thing too. I think Loveman and Mayo type in some of the same forms honestly.
Like if Loveman had wrote the shit and slabbed Mayo on it--I think people would eat it up. But I dunno.
Getting back to GV being Mayo it's true. Yes she is a psyco. Yes she is in love with Kapu and Sdock. Bird of night that's all I'm gonna say. SOmeone alreayd pointed it out
Loveman and Mayo? Are you serious?
No,Mayo and GV. Because Mayo IS GV
She's pissed because I don't believe that her friend Sara Black is "Kat."
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
Ha ha that's funny because Love man lied about some stuff before. Anon 9:08
They do, but in actuality, Mayo doesn't like "Love Man."
Loveman was the first, if I remember or was it Mayo?
FIIIIIM! Quit eating your tea and go on AIM. ^_^
Anon, if Mayo is GV, can you please explain his porn post from last year?
It is called LYING BC you stupid asshole.
Anon, loveman was first, and Mayo's first post was a response to her blog. And well, no one is really interested in her anymore.
"Re:currency." Oh my god, it shouldn't be as funny to me as it is. I'm such a moron.
Anon 9:14
Do we have to resort to names now? Spewing insults at someone is only making you look like a jackass.
I swear, if some of you anons were CSIs, you would totally suck.
Hi, Chicks, Dicks, and Pricks!
What's the argument now?
Mayo is a woman?
I could see that...
Mayo is in love with Kapuana?
I could see that...
GV is Mayo?
I could see that too...
Hi Mya, how are you? ^_________^
Oh for pete's sakes.
Ooh... Actually, BC, that "porn" post of Mayo's was only one of the things that made me question his/her gender.
Men are much more... well, crude.
Pete who?
Why do I keep coming back here?
Hell, I don't know...
Today, I'm bored and sort of... depressed...
Mya, it's possible, but some of these anons think Mayo is still GV.
Seriously, who gives a crap who he/she is?
Most of us moved past that already.
But I certainly don't hang on to Mayo's every post anymore and it feels just too damned good!
Who gives a crap?
I DO!
You betcha!
sorry, i just uploaded my first vid, yay me. i am going into lurking mode cos i need to sort me vids and pics out. i will be back in a little while. wish me luck botches
MAYO IS IN LOVE ITH KAPUNUA! MAYO IS IN LOVE WITH KAPUNUA! MAYO IS IN LOVE WITH KAPUNUA!! THAT IS WHY HE TALK TO HER ALL THE FUCKING TIME!!
BUT
I have gotten over wanting, needing, to know... Actually, the fact that it is NOT who we all thought in the beginning is enough for me, I suppose
Mya, you okay?
And I just don't care anymore
Yes, BC, I'm fine
But you're still curious to know? I think he's an octopus, only some radiation spilled on him in order for him to grow an extra two legs he he
Are you okay, BC?
9:30
Sunday night
Blah
I'm signing off
G'night
I'm alright Mya, just find some of these anons amusing. Hey fimmy fim
goodnight mya, sweet dreams.
Good Evening Mayonaise;
Your dream sounds lovely. For the past five years, since my grandmother's death, whenever something goes wrong in my life, I dream of my grandma. Somehow, in each dream, she tells me that everything will be okay, and I don't need to worry. My mother told me that that's my grandma's way of sending me a message from the afterlife. These dreams always leave me in peace. The way you put it, your dream sounds like it leaves you in a great state of mind.
I'm a little disappointed that your new post isn't a poem. With every word you say, I try and take it for what it's worth, and much more. Everyone here brings value to this blog with the words they speak. I try my hardest to say things that will somehow help someone here, and I know that your posts are sometimes for the same reason.
xoxo;
- 007
<3
Hi grasshopper *hugs*
I ordered a TBS shirt.
Just saying.
Hiya PH! ^_^
HEY BC! =]
Can't stay, gotta go straighten my hair:)
xoxo
*hug*
- 007
<3
K, I'm deathly jealous that you ordered a TBS shirt!! *hug*
byee<3
Cool beans. Bye grasshopper. Don't burn your hair now, ya hear? hee hee.
Yeah,it's the one with birds on it. I can't wait. ^_^
The t-shirt sounds nice. (No, I mean it, of course)
Gahhh!!!! It's boring. Even some poetry would be nice at the moment.
right i have given up on my pics and vids. i have class in morning so i am off to beddy byes.
nighty night all and sweet dreams.
*places plastic monkeys over the door so that when pp walks in. they fall in her hair*
pp, next time you drop to my house, leave your blue name so i can get to your house. xx
Goodnight and sweet dreams fimmy fim. *hugs*
*peeks in*
*leaves a present for SS. 'Cause, you know, jappy nutrition is important*
*tip-toes off, licking her fingers*
So, Mayo, not entirely sure how to start this.
First of all, thank you for putting Sdock's poem up there. That night was special, but really hard for me, so seeing that there will serve as a reminder.
Secondly,
As I acknowledge that wonderful feeling I become aware that I will soon wake up and it will be over.
Don't let it be over. If it's good, make it stay.
They don't know it, but I say those things to myself every morning. It's why I make it a point to have downcast eyes and darkened rooms. It's why I don't like to stand in fluorescent lighting. It's why I never look up while washing my hands.
I live it every day. It's my life. Sometimes I wish I led another one, yes. Sometimes none of this makes sense to me. Sometimes I don't know how I do it. But all of the time, it hurts.
So, I guess the joke's on them.
Coming thro' the rye, poor body,
Coming thro' the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
O, Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie
Coming thro' the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
so, mayo does a blog about flying UPstairs and OUT of his house. he said he has had this dream since he was a kid.
any mcr fan knows gerard would exit his house from DOWNSTAIRS.
so, mayo, why are you trying SO HARD to get us to believe you are gerard way?
you are embarrassing and should be embarrassed.
if you didnt want people to believe that, you would have already said you werent instead of your lame ass "Who is this Gerard Way person?" comment you made a few weeks ago.
youre an embarrassment, mayo. really.
Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before it
Far apart, far away in the gusty time of year—
Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking,
I know your secret, my dear, my dear.
so, mayo does a blog about flying UPstairs and OUT of his house. he said he has had this dream since he was a kid.
any mcr fan knows gerard would exit his house from DOWNSTAIRS.
so, mayo, why are you trying SO HARD to get us to believe you are gerard way?
Ummm, isn't your logic a little backwards here? As in, yeah, Mayo is saying that is is not Gerard? ANd so what's the big deal about getting something "right" or "wrong" because he's not trying, he's just writing about his dream? Kinda thing?
Mayo,
How are you tonight? I hope you are feeling well and happy as this day draws to a close. I had a pretty good one. Smoke and I failed terribly at installing that CD thing or her computer. I suck at stuff like that. Anything that comes with directions, I hate. I want to just skip it and plug it in and go. Ummm, it didn't work. Imagine that. Well, at least we didn't blow up her computer. Nice.
Thank you for what you did today. Putting my little poem up there means a lot to me. We had so much fun doing that the other night. I read some poems that I had never read before. We had people writing and talking in poetry who had never tried before. I can't wait to read what we will come up with next. All I want is for people to open their mind, their eyes, their ears. There's a poem out there just waiting to be written and read.
Mayo, I'm about to tell you about my recurring thought/fantasy/vision/dream or whatever you want to call it. I am obsessed with this idea of slipping away. I often think of what it would feel like to let all the blood drain from my body or to slowly suffocate. It's not a death fantasy. It's not a suicide thought. It's an idea of floating between 2 worlds....to leave my physical body....to walk around as nothing but a spirit or form of energy. And just when I am about to be leave this earth forever, someone will poke the needle in my heart or shock me back to life. And boom, I fall back to earth into my body. Does that make sense? Floating around.....not dead...not alive...just in between.
In my foolish, twisted mind, I think I will come back somehow more aware than when I left. Where do thoughts like that come from?
Mayo, I hope you have a great night. Find the person you love and hold them like you never want to let them go...and when you feel your grip starting to slip...hold on tighter.
Love to YOU Always,
S
p.s. Shock her again!!
Hiya Lovelies! Hiya Mayo!
How's everyone today? I told the staff at work that I'd quit and I shocked a few of them, I think.
-A
What the JESUS is going on in here?!?!
Anons, go fuck yourselves. Hardcore. Then, videotape it, and fuck yourselves with that too.
-A
I didn't get to read the poems, considering I just got done with the dishes. Wah! I'll get to it asap.
Hello RW, Amy *squeeze* Amy, you quit?
Hello anons.
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me---she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
That is in reference to absolutely nothing, but is one of my favorite poems. I love the last line especially. ^_^
NICE, Amy. :D
Anons, go fuck yourselves. Hardcore. Then, videotape it, and fuck yourselves with that too.
-------------------------------------
And this is why I love you Amy ^_^
BC, yeah. Handed in my notice a few days ago. Going from 11.75 and hour to 16.50 an hour.
Kapu, you know those two words don't go together! XD
-A
Actually, there is an alternate version of the Robert Burns poem one that I can no longer find. It was pretty vulgar, IIRC, but it made a strong statement, one that was ahead of its time and oddly feminist.
Re: the vulgarity: Words "felt" different back then, and you have to consider that when you look at the whole thing. You have to look at a poem in the context of its society and sometimes you can't quite fit it into this one.
/tangent
BC, I love you too. XD
-A
Goblin Market
by Christina Rosetti
MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpeck'd cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheek'd peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries; -
All ripe together
In summer weather, -
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy."
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bow'd her head to hear,
Lizzie veil'd her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"Oh," cried Lizzie, "Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie cover'd up her eyes,
Cover'd close lest they should look;
Laura rear'd her glossy head,
And whisper'd like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie, "No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisk'd a tail,
One tramp'd at a rat's pace,
One crawl'd like a snail,
One like a wombat prowl'd obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.
Laura stretch'd her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turn'd and troop'd the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they reach'd where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One rear'd his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heav'd the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Long'd but had no money:
The whisk-tail'd merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-faced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly;" -
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answer'd all together:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipp'd a precious golden lock,
She dropp'd a tear more rare than pearl,
Then suck'd their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flow'd that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck'd and suck'd and suck'd the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck'd until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gather'd up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turn'd home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Pluck'd from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay, hush," said Laura:
"Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more;" and kiss'd her:
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."
Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down in their curtain'd bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipp'd with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gaz'd in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapp'd to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Lock'd together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crow'd his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetch'd in honey, milk'd the cows,
Air'd and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churn'd butter, whipp'd up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sew'd;
Talk'd as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie pluck'd purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loiter'd still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still
The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill;
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"
Laura turn'd cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life droop'd from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering thro' the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudg'd home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnash'd her teeth for baulk'd desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy, come buy;" -
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon wax'd bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.
One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dew'd it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watch'd for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dream'd of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crown'd trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetch'd honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy;" -
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The yoke and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Long'd to buy fruit to comfort her,
But fear'd to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter time
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.
Till Laura dwindling
Seem'd knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weigh'd no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kiss'd Laura, cross'd the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laugh'd every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, -
Hugg'd her and kiss'd her:
Squeez'd and caress'd her:
Stretch'd up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs." -
"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
"Give me much and many: -
Held out her apron,
Toss'd them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,"
They answer'd grinning:
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry:
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us." -
"Thank you," said Lizzie: "But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I toss'd you for a fee." -
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One call'd her proud,
Cross-grain'd, uncivil;
Their tones wax'd loud,
Their look were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbow'd and jostled her,
Claw'd with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soil'd her stocking,
Twitch'd her hair out by the roots,
Stamp'd upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeez'd their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood, -
Like a rock of blue-vein'd stone
Lash'd by tides obstreperously, -
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire, -
Like a fruit-crown'd orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee, -
Like a royal virgin town
Topp'd with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguer'd by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.
One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuff'd and caught her,
Coax'd and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratch'd her, pinch'd her black as ink,
Kick'd and knock'd her,
Maul'd and mock'd her,
Lizzie utter'd not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laugh'd in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupp'd all her face,
And lodg'd in dimples of her chin,
And streak'd her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kick'd their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writh'd into the ground,
Some div'd into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanish'd in the distance.
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro' the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse, -
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she fear'd some goblin man
Dogg'd her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin scurried after,
Nor was she prick'd by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
She cried, "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeez'd from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."
Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutch'd her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruin'd in my ruin,
Thirsty, canker'd, goblin-ridden?" -
She clung about her sister,
Kiss'd and kiss'd and kiss'd her:
Tears once again
Refresh'd her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kiss'd and kiss'd her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loath'd the feast:
Writhing as one possess'd she leap'd and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks stream'd like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knock'd at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense fail'd in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topp'd waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watch'd by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cool'd her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirp'd about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bow'd in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Open'd of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laugh'd in the innocent old way,
Hugg'd Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks show'd not one thread of grey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town):
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
"For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands."
Christina Rossetti
Going for a skimming record?
Um, wow.
Teal deer is loose.
-A
I've fond anticipation of a day
O'erfilled with pure diversion presently,
For I must read a lady poesy
The while we glide by many a leafy bay,
Hid deep in rushes, where at random play
The glossy black winged May-flies, or whence flee
Hush-throated nestlings in alarm,
Whom we have idly frighted with our boat's long sway.
For, lest o'ersaddened by such woes as spring
To rural peace from our meek onward trend,
What else more fit? We'll draw the latch-string
And close the door of sense; then satiate wend,
On poesy's transforming giant wing,
To worlds afar whose fruits all anguish mend.
Oooh Goblin Market, I like that one! Creepy.
I like the first Robert Brown poem and the last two lines of the last one.
Hito wo yume to ya
omoishiruramu;
sumi suteshi,
sono wa kochou no
yadori nite
That man's life is but a dream -
is what we now come to know.
Its house abandoned,
the garden has become home
to butterflies.
The William Carlos Williams? I think it perfectly describes nights like these. I mean the poetry, not the mean anons of course.
Blogger the bitch ate my comment. Typical.
NOm, NOM, NOM
There are many
strange and lovely things
tht swim in the midnight tide pools...
I think I do not want to share them
with other divers' eyes by day.
Blogger ate my other comment. Thanks a lot blogger! You bastard
オハイオ州のNO! Bloggerは私達をすべて食べる! 操業!
*Oh no! Blogger will eat us all!! Run!
-A
NOM NOM NOM *BURP*
^$%$&&^$$#@ (Expletive) Blogger!!
Darling, this is Mayo's blog. You do not censor yourself.
-A
motherfuckingpieceofshitasshole
dickheadfuckerblogger!!
Amy, is that better? ^_^
*cries and whimpers*
blogger said...
*cries and whimpers*
AAAAHHHH~!~~!
GOJIRA!
-A
Blogger, did I hurt your feelings?
I can't help it! I get hungry!
Liaison by David Herbert Lawrence
A big bud of moon hangs out of the twilight,
Star-spiders spinning their thread
Hang high suspended, withouten respite
Watching us overhead.
Come then under the trees, where the leaf-cloths
Curtain us in so dark
That here we’re safe from even the ermin-moth’s
Flitting remark.
Here in this swarthy, secret tent,
Where black boughs flap the ground,
You shall draw the thorn from my discontent,
Surgeon me sound.
This rare, rich night! For in here
Under the yew-tree tent
The darkness is loveliest where I could sear
You like frankincense into scent.
Here not even the stars can spy us,
Not even the white moths write
With their little pale signs on the wall, to try us
And set us affright.
Kiss but then the dust from off my lips,
But draw the turgid pain
From my breast to your bosom, eclipse
My soul again.
Waste me not, I beg you, waste
Not the inner night:
Taste, oh taste and let me taste
The core of delight.
Blogger, aw well, you can eat my next comment if you want then.
Anon, nice poem. I think.
Actually, you know? That's a new one on me, and I like that a lot. Good choice there anon. ^_^
Here are the lines I liked the best:
You shall draw the thorn from my discontent,
Surgeon me sound.
and
Not even the white moths write
With their little pale signs on the wall, to try us
And set us affright.
Too right. "Little pale signs on the wall" indeed. ^_^
ANd I'm kinda ashamed that I hadn't read that one yet, to be honest. O_O
*is hiding under the table*
-A
*Is going to hide in her room*
goodnight, you are safe, must take bloglets to school in the morning.
Sometimes, I feel like he's never going to ask me to marry him, ever.
And I feel pretty dumb, but I worry about that because if he won't ask me, I think that means nobody ever will.
-A
*hugs Amy*
*is kinda taken aback*
Thanks Anon.
-A
My mouth hovers across your breasts
in the short grey winter afternoon
in this bed we are delicate
and touch so hot with joy we amaze ourselves
tough and delicate we play rings
around each other our daytime candle burns
with its peculiar light and if the snow
begins to fall outside filling the branches
and if the night falls without announcement
there are the pleasures of winter
sudden, wild and delicate your fingers
exact my tongue exact at the same moment
stopping to laugh at a joke
my love hot on your scent on the cusp of winter
^ O_O
Amazingly enough, I just read that one in my book.
Lilies bloom on the hilltop where we have placed our blanket,
Their scent fragramt. soothing to our tangled nerves.
We lie entwined: your head on my breast, my hand at your nape,
Teasing a pattern along your skin,
Neither recognizing where the one becomes two,
Only knowing that the two are one.
Today, in this remote temple, this secret lover's nest,
I give you my heart, my soul, my love.
They are yours to spend as you will.
Hope flows through me, the hope that you will
Draw each tender gift closely to yourself and
Cradle them, one by one, in the palm of your hand before
Bestowing a kiss on the first, the second, the third, then
Tucking them safely away inside you
For the remainder of eternity.
You are my Eros; I am your Angel.
We shall wrap our wings 'round each other, enfolding us in our love.
Is love a light for me? A steady light,
A lamp within whose pallid pool I dream
Over old love-books? Or is it a gleam,
A lantern coming towards me from afar
Down a dark mountain? Is my love a star?
Ah me!- so high above so coldly bright!
The fire dances.
Is my love a fire
Leaping down the twilight muddy and bold?
Nay, I'd be frightened of him. I'm too cold
For quick and eager loving.
There's a gold
Sheen on these flower petals as they fold
More truly mine, more like to my desire.
The flower petals fold.
They are by the sun
Forgotten.
In a shadowy wood they grow
Where the dark trees keep up a to-and-fro
Shadowy waving.
Who will watch them shine
When I have dreamed my dream?
Ah, darling mine,
Find them, gather them for me one by one.
Hey Angel?
Does your darling know how you feel? I'd hate to think this passion is unrequited.
-A
A beautiful evening to you, friend Amyranth. Yes, my beloved is aware of my feelings. Theirs are returned in kind.
Love's Philosophy
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
so, mayo does a blog about flying UPstairs and OUT of his house. he said he has had this dream since he was a kid.
any mcr fan knows gerard would exit his house from DOWNSTAIRS.
Mayo did say the FRONT door. Technically speaking, the only way to that exit is to go up the stairs.
Oh Angel. Nothing better.
-A
Goodnight and sweet dreams blogger. Hello angel. You have such a way with words. Beautiful and passionate.
Is anyone else doing anything for St Patrick's Day?
-A
Anon, lovely poem.
Yes, Amyranth, I concur. Good evening to you, Bleeding Chaos, another new friend. Thank you, again, for your words of praise.
So, Angel. Does you beloved frequent this blog?
-A
Well, the weather is supposed to be nice so I think, tomorrow for st. Pattys I'm going to my deck and enjoy the nice weather and write.
Amyranth, for me, and only in whispers.
You are very welcome angel. Good to have you hear.
The Ecstasy
Where, like a pillow on a bed
A pregnant bank swell'd up to rest
The violet's reclining head,
Sat we two, one another's best.
Our hands were firmly cemented
With a fast balm, which thence did spring;
Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread
Our eyes upon one double string;
So to'intergraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one,
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As 'twixt two equal armies fate
Suspends uncertain victory,
Our souls (which to advance their state
Were gone out) hung 'twixt her and me.
And whilst our souls negotiate there,
We like sepulchral statues lay;
All day, the same our postures were,
And we said nothing, all the day.
If any, so by love refin'd
That he soul's language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He (though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take
And part far purer than he came.
This ecstasy doth unperplex,
We said, and tell us what we love;
We see by this it was not sex,
We see we saw not what did move;
But as all several souls contain
Mixture of things, they know not what,
Love these mix'd souls doth mix again
And makes both one, each this and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size,
(All which before was poor and scant)
Redoubles still, and multiplies.
When love with one another so
Interinanimates two souls,
That abler soul, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controls.
We then, who are this new soul, know
Of what we are compos'd and made,
For th' atomies of which we grow
Are souls. whom no change can invade.
But oh alas, so long, so far,
Our bodies why do we forbear?
They'are ours, though they'are not we; we are
The intelligences, they the spheres.
We owe them thanks, because they thus
Did us, to us, at first convey,
Yielded their senses' force to us,
Nor are dross to us, but allay.
On man heaven's influence works not so,
But that it first imprints the air;
So soul into the soul may flow,
Though it to body first repair.
As our blood labors to beget
Spirits, as like souls as it can,
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtle knot which makes us man,
So must pure lovers' souls descend
T' affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great prince in prison lies.
To'our bodies turn we then, that so
Weak men on love reveal'd may look;
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
But yet the body is his book.
And if some lover, such as we,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still mark us, he shall see
Small change, when we'are to bodies gone.
Anons, I wish your words were commented on my pages. Such virtue.
For You:
I Am Not Yours
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
A little scary, you know? A lot scary, I guess.
The wild bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily-cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering;
Sit closer love: it was here I trow
I made that vow,
Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,-
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love's web is spun.
Look upward where the poplar trees
Sway and sway in the summer air,
Here in the valley never a breeze
Scatters the thistledown, but there
Great winds blow fair
From the mighty murmuring mystical seas,
And the wave-lashed leas.
Look upward where the white gull screams,
What does it see that we do not see?
Is that a star? or the lamp that gleams
On some outward voyaging argosy,
Ah! can it be
We have lived our lives in a land of dreams!
How sad it seems.
Sweet, there is nothing left to say
But this, that love is never lost,
Keen winter stabs the breasts of May
Whose crimson roses burst his frost,
Ships tempest-tossed
Will find a harbour in some bay,
And so we may.
And there is nothing left to do
But to kiss once again, and part,
Nay, there is nothing we should rue,
I have my beauty,-you your Art,
Nay, do not start,
One world was not enough for two
Like me and you.
Well, this is me, heading off to bed. I hope that everyone will have a pleasant sleep, dreams of flying, and not falling. ^_^
Me, I'm gonna read a while before I go to sleep, like I usually do. I'm still reading Anansi Boys. I should have been finished with it a month ago but I hadn't been reading at night because I'd found myself way too tired after work, and falling right to sleep.
Mayo, it's cool that you can make yourself dream this one thing by focusing on it during the day. Very rarely have I managed to accomplish that, but I always wished for that ability. Oh my god the things I would dream. You just bet! ^_^ But my dreams are always out of my control.
Still, one of my favorite singers / lyricists once said, of dreams: It's then that you are most able to connect with yourself.
Even then we sometimes become afraid of what we dream; yet we are the creators of our dreams, so why be afraid?
Right?
Have a good night, Mayo. And I am grateful for the challenge, honestly I had such a great time. ^_^
S(S)S, wow dude, I miss you, pretty hard. I know you're out there doing fine and being the love that you are though. ^_^ Cool beans.
Everyone else, good night!
As night follows night,
I shift and turn my pillow,
my eyes open wide.
Long ago I dreamed of you,
How was I sleeping that night?
-A
Goodnight and sweet dreams k.
Amy, I like that ^_^
For you anon:
I like your poem as well.
There are many beautiful poems here tonight; I am sorry that I must leave now.
Good evening to Amyranth and Bleeding Chaos.
Rest well, all here.
Winter skies are cold and low,
with harsh winds and freezing sleet.
But when we make love beneath our quilt,
we make three summer months of heat.
-A
Hi there Mayo,
Today I have some thing I want to share.
I went swimming this afternoon,(and yes it was cold, but this has been a warm autumn so far.)
The water was still and cool, and the sky was gray and blue, all swirls.
It was strangely peaceful.
When my mother and I got out of the water, we went for a stroll on the beach, and came across a man walking two black poodles.
He told us up ahead in the shallows, by the rock pools, were three stingrays of moderate size.
Just lovely.
So of course we had to look, and sure enough we saw two of them, and later on we saw the third.
The water was just still and clear enough to see them perfectly.
They were stunning, just swimming along the bottom, gently stirring up sand.
Now, let me just say,I don't really believe in signs, but sometimes....
just sometimes something in nature occurs and it feels like an omen.
A lot has happened to me lately, but I have survived, I'm still carrying on, as I do.
There are some changes in my life I need to make.
Choices I've already made that will change my future too.
The next while wont be any easier, but I think that it will all be worth it in the end.
Yes, this very second.. I'm hopeful.
I hope you are well. I really did enjoy this entry.
Take care everyone, I'm off to walk through a grassy meadow. :)
xoxo cupcake
Goodnight Angel.
-A
Goodnight and sweet dreams angel. Rest well. Thank you for the visit. Hiya cupcake. Take care sweets.
Amy, I like that verse.
Hi Cuppy!
Bye Cuppy!
-A
I think I'm going to go to bed too. I have some coloring to do yet.
Hey, has anyone seen Ergo around lately?
-A
Amy, ergo was here earlier, but said that she wasn't going to come back until late in the night.
Goodnight and sweet dreams.
Flying
I have a flying dream,
have since I was a kid.
In it, I remember suddenly
how to fly, something
for some reason I've forgotten;
by getting to a certain place
in my mind, I'm able simply to rise.
I go up only about sixty or seventy feet,
but that's high enough to look down on
my house, the one I grew up in,
in Tuscola, look down on it
and the trees of the neighborhood;
it's high enough to watch my father
from above as he leaves for work,
to see my mother as she gathers grapes
from the backyard arbor,
to see my sister in her pretty dress,
pulling all her friends in our wagon
down the long, new sidewalks,
to see our many dogs over the years—
high enough to see the blur of childhood,
to put my quiet shadow over all of us
early on. In the dream it's a summer's day
and I might sometimes also
be the one looking up, squinting hard
and seeing way high above
birds moving, black spots against the blue
Oh cool! I've never been first for anything before ^_^
First!!!
Post a Comment