Sad day. What else is new? My doctor thinks I'm a drug addict, my mother is going senile, and I often think the word friend is synonymous with the phrase "it's okay to hurt me, i'll forgive you." Too emo? In happier news, James Joyce class is going well. I simply love the mountain of riddles that is Ulysses and just really get a kick out of researching obscure references. It's like finding Waldo! ...I'm so lame.
Phoenix
Defeated.
She removes her armor,
looms over the fallen knight
and offers a hand,
the other still clutching the blade
that lay nestled in his chest.
Indomitable.
He clasps her hand lightly
and rises to his feet.
Wrenching her steel kiss free,
as she says with a smile:
I love you!
I love you!
Can't you see why?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
New myths
Where do we find them? Do we make them ourselves, or are we doomed to repeat the old ones in the newest fashion?
Musa
If one called you Muse,
Lady Schala, my time devoured
Queen.
Would it be sheer folly,
or are you no less real
than Helen's Mephistophilian
dreams?
Musa
If one called you Muse,
Lady Schala, my time devoured
Queen.
Would it be sheer folly,
or are you no less real
than Helen's Mephistophilian
dreams?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Nasty outside
It's still miserably cold outside and raining now. Meanwhile, just to the north they have beautiful (terrible) snow. We missed it yet again. So, poetry! The problem: History can be and has been misread. We're just not that bright (we're brilliant). Well, what if it happens to us in the future? A good one thousand years perhaps? Longer? Pick any number I think.
He told me he was afraid; that when ages have passed
leaving you and I but dusted flakes on the wind,
in the ghostly valley where we once lived
some brave explorer shall find the toy; a doll his kid
used to play with outside in the dirt. the yellow clad
retractable action-clawed Wolverine,
And they shall marvel at the symbols of our terrible gods.
He told me he was afraid; that when ages have passed
leaving you and I but dusted flakes on the wind,
in the ghostly valley where we once lived
some brave explorer shall find the toy; a doll his kid
used to play with outside in the dirt. the yellow clad
retractable action-clawed Wolverine,
And they shall marvel at the symbols of our terrible gods.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Super attack
Of my cluster headaches today. I had to take a trip to the emergency room (again) and of course all I can do is explain what's happening (which isn't easy! I smile, but it is the worst pain I've ever known, and I grow irritable about always having to explain) and hope they understand, not thinking I'm seeking drugs. Luckily, my doctor was able to call in and explain for me this time. Good stuff. Life goes on it seems. I want to add another section to this towards the bottom, after the introduction of the younger appearing one.
Ever After
Left with heart torn
so asunder it can't even
look upon you in sweet dreams.
For when in Heaven we met again;
our time expired; eternity:
a way to forget.
You chose to be Gray, aged away
when you knew your happiest days;
watching your children s children
by the fireside play.
And there stood I,
the young blind fool
wrapped in his earliest ways, still
the idealist, the carefree Dreamer.
The poet, writer, and sometimes swimmer.
As you smiled upon me in your never
sparing way, I knew you were leaving;
walking away.
For even in Heaven, Everyone's
Ever After doesn't seem to always
matter.
Ever After
Left with heart torn
so asunder it can't even
look upon you in sweet dreams.
For when in Heaven we met again;
our time expired; eternity:
a way to forget.
You chose to be Gray, aged away
when you knew your happiest days;
watching your children s children
by the fireside play.
And there stood I,
the young blind fool
wrapped in his earliest ways, still
the idealist, the carefree Dreamer.
The poet, writer, and sometimes swimmer.
As you smiled upon me in your never
sparing way, I knew you were leaving;
walking away.
For even in Heaven, Everyone's
Ever After doesn't seem to always
matter.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Tale Collector
A look at a poet.
Tale Collector.
It's happened again.
a summer has been
squandered away without
even the mention of May.
Another wasteful tide,
Cast carelessly aside
simple counting away
of beauty-sewn day
draped in mornings
mourning grays.
Had I been but
a different Fool!
I would singe my
hands on far Bright Stars.
Or taken for granted
every ticking hour
Make way for
Ever After.
Or a lone ship
captain, his crew
since abandoned at
first sights swirling
disaster.
One would shout,
Lo' Ozymandias
how tiny you truly
be!
Crumbled face of
withered fate.
Ah, but only fantasy;
great feats of the
meager.
Instead of hero,
the eternal story
weaver.
A lost tale
Seeker.
The dark-clad heart
Dreamer.
Tale Collector.
It's happened again.
a summer has been
squandered away without
even the mention of May.
Another wasteful tide,
Cast carelessly aside
simple counting away
of beauty-sewn day
draped in mornings
mourning grays.
Had I been but
a different Fool!
I would singe my
hands on far Bright Stars.
Or taken for granted
every ticking hour
Make way for
Ever After.
Or a lone ship
captain, his crew
since abandoned at
first sights swirling
disaster.
One would shout,
Lo' Ozymandias
how tiny you truly
be!
Crumbled face of
withered fate.
Ah, but only fantasy;
great feats of the
meager.
Instead of hero,
the eternal story
weaver.
A lost tale
Seeker.
The dark-clad heart
Dreamer.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Should be studying
I'm totally not.
Hero Complex.
Always looming like a black cloud unaware it drowns the sunshine,
And wearing down the soles of her feet with the constant imposition.
Chasing her away with the needy cries of, "But I will protect you!"
This must be a hero at the wrong crime scene.
Hero Complex.
Always looming like a black cloud unaware it drowns the sunshine,
And wearing down the soles of her feet with the constant imposition.
Chasing her away with the needy cries of, "But I will protect you!"
This must be a hero at the wrong crime scene.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Why is it so cold?!?!
Snow flurries come and tease me like a wicked girl but does it stick? No sir. Sad times. Well, there's always next winter. That's Alabama for you =(. New classes, woo. Can I graduate please? I have a James Joyce class though and it sounds like it's going to be awesome x 2. Despite my best efforts, the world keeps turning.
Overheard.
"Is this a twist off?"
-Definitely not.
Arrogance rises from
the most desolate
soul.
Overheard.
"Is this a twist off?"
-Definitely not.
Arrogance rises from
the most desolate
soul.
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