Dec. 29, 08
You ate me away,
Took me first by my lips and then breathed very deeply.
Taking what was mine to yours, kind of like beautiful words.
I believed in beautiful words, just like you believed in chaos.
I took the flower to my cheek and let it pet myself to sleep.
You took each petal and ripped it off saying perverse things.
This is unreal,
How could I look at you, and why did you never look at me?
These years made differences in our fashions of each other.
I was your shadow, trekking two steps behind your hands.
I still reach like I think I want to feel vanity, though I don't.
You somehow are everything I want to be and what I hate.
Tuesday 30 December 2008
Saturday 20 December 2008
Cracked Voices
December 20, 08
You promised egg shell pieces,
That you'd read these words,
Glue together my potent misery,
And create a healthy new picture.
You promised a human knight,
You'd paint me the newly lit sky,
Illuminate my ever dimming sight,
And trace fairy dust on my hand.
But most of all, you promised to hold,
Love and cherish, till death do part,
You took my hand and vows with it,
But forgot to listen to my own words.
You promised egg shell pieces,
That you'd read these words,
Glue together my potent misery,
And create a healthy new picture.
You promised a human knight,
You'd paint me the newly lit sky,
Illuminate my ever dimming sight,
And trace fairy dust on my hand.
But most of all, you promised to hold,
Love and cherish, till death do part,
You took my hand and vows with it,
But forgot to listen to my own words.
Wednesday 17 December 2008
Chimera
Dec. 17, 08
Leaves in the broken dried state,
Leave skeletons on the sidewalk,
Material living noises reverberate
Backwards in reverse uncommonly.
Touched by blue living lips she was
A singer in skeletal bones (she was)
Walking, tripping, in backward motions,
She's the wind and that's how it blows.
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
We feel like dancing like the ripples,
The averse 'time and space continuum'
The world is the art and paint dribbles,
In colours that make souls and scribbles.
Parallel world within the imagination,
Taking bits of reality and placing my own,
Water droplet of the rainbow my creation,
The snow that falls in June's complexion.
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
This life, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza...
*
Has a tune to be read to (or at least in my head)
Leaves in the broken dried state,
Leave skeletons on the sidewalk,
Material living noises reverberate
Backwards in reverse uncommonly.
Touched by blue living lips she was
A singer in skeletal bones (she was)
Walking, tripping, in backward motions,
She's the wind and that's how it blows.
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
We feel like dancing like the ripples,
The averse 'time and space continuum'
The world is the art and paint dribbles,
In colours that make souls and scribbles.
Parallel world within the imagination,
Taking bits of reality and placing my own,
Water droplet of the rainbow my creation,
The snow that falls in June's complexion.
This story, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza,
This life, my friend
Begins and ends in this stanza...
*
Has a tune to be read to (or at least in my head)
Matching You
Dec 16, 08
This is the introduction of you and me
If you are the lightning blue of the sea
left in the sunshine collecting sparkles,
I'm then the burnt red from the fire
left in the ground to ember and fade.
If you took our essences and mixed
shook, swirled, tampered with over...
We'd still not mix in that soluble way,
We'd merely slam against each other.
Slam against each other
And this is: You and I
How we like how we only link and not
mix despite swirls, shakes, or tampering.
I'm the fire in your heart and you are
the ice that slips us forward in thrill.
Together we were nothing more than
what we were when we were apart
Yet less of what we were to ourselves,
I like the way I am with you, vice versa.
Vice Versa
Take the petals of purple flowers and red
And yellow and brown and thorn branches
Bite them and take a picture of my mouth.
Take a picture of those words I send to you
Through my eyes, the way I let myself sigh,
Lastly, take a picture of yourself watching me.
Watch Me
Match You.
This is the introduction of you and me
If you are the lightning blue of the sea
left in the sunshine collecting sparkles,
I'm then the burnt red from the fire
left in the ground to ember and fade.
If you took our essences and mixed
shook, swirled, tampered with over...
We'd still not mix in that soluble way,
We'd merely slam against each other.
Slam against each other
And this is: You and I
How we like how we only link and not
mix despite swirls, shakes, or tampering.
I'm the fire in your heart and you are
the ice that slips us forward in thrill.
Together we were nothing more than
what we were when we were apart
Yet less of what we were to ourselves,
I like the way I am with you, vice versa.
Vice Versa
Take the petals of purple flowers and red
And yellow and brown and thorn branches
Bite them and take a picture of my mouth.
Take a picture of those words I send to you
Through my eyes, the way I let myself sigh,
Lastly, take a picture of yourself watching me.
Watch Me
Match You.
Thursday 11 December 2008
Conjoined [Who Died Tonight]
December 11, 08
This place was like seeing in shades of purple that somehow turned to gold hues but was only like lightning flashes of a light cold-blue. Perhaps it was the irises of the eyes that didn’t expand right, or the mind turning the colours too quick into the mind changing what the everyday person knows as green into the colour it desires before it registers. No control of what reality is but only what the brain and self desire. Desire to see.
This place was a concentrated stare of hypnotizing-ly original in the everyday decor of it despite that he knew he never carried a gun in his trousers before. And despite he knew that the leaves on the trees were never this intensely orange fire, he saw insanity as he breathed in through his eyes; he felt insanity as he knew it was December where he stood...Yet where it really was spring. He saw her then, and never noticed his hands taking the gun out.
In a black tank top and dark jeans, he tried to see her features...but just as he saw he forgot. It was as if looking into a fish tank, he himself was a fish and this girl, and another half of him stared from the outside. He could not concentrate on both and could not tell you the colour of the fish...but only that it was.
He bore the gun with a quiver the girl not looking at him but past him and walked through him the first time. He breathed in and turned to say, with a voice he heard when he recorded his voice...but not the voice he heard in his head, “Stand where you are, I’m going to shoot you,” The words were not his own and he only watched it play out. She turned back towards him and laughed.
“Kill me? And what shall I give you in return?” She walked up to him, seemingly uncaring of his threat, slivered her arms around his. A hand on the gun arm he had let fall limp, his surprise with her lips so close to his ear.
“What shall I give you in return? Riches, money, fame, prosperity, peace of mind,” Her hand drifted downwards in the most seductive of manners. If she were death she’d conquer them all to suicide, begging for the breath of her rebellious calm nature. Calculating and cold he felt her teeth would be, but she spoke down just brushing the zipper of his jeans.
“Self satisfaction?”
She fell back now, and leaned against the fence which he had not noticed. And noticed now what he had not noticed was that they were on a bridge. He had no notion of why he cared now, nor did any reason for why he realized the water was disgusting and there were little boats of what he know were from his childhood that docked along the sides of the canal the bridge crossed. The rails of the fence were an ugly blue terribly painted by the lazy slob he’d make faces at in his free time at the opposite way where his apartment used to be at his age of being young. He didn’t look, because the non reality had taken a hold again and spoke for him,
“I’m going to shoot you,”
A wretched pain wrung him. Despite him standing still in the fish tank, outside he fell in contorted circles holding the head digging finger nails into the tender flesh begging for some release. And from the girl he heard dim shouts- too distracted to see her image now more than ever- “Then shoot me damnit! Shoot me!”
“Aren’t you cold?” He stares again, his breath harsh from his outside view torment. A gleam in the eye with the smile and a soft answer,
“Do you want me to be?”
“It would make more sense,”
“It doesn’t have to make sense here.”
Where the decision came he does not know. And he shot her. She fell and he felt his own chest for a wound not there. Walking towards her lifeless body he stooped to her tender flesh, milk coloured and smooth neck, and wishes for her last words. They fall affectionately as if the first drops of rain on the first warm spring day into the unconscious of his mind,
“I only wished to be loved and never lie,”
And he points the gun to himself. The fish tank shatters.
This place was like seeing in shades of purple that somehow turned to gold hues but was only like lightning flashes of a light cold-blue. Perhaps it was the irises of the eyes that didn’t expand right, or the mind turning the colours too quick into the mind changing what the everyday person knows as green into the colour it desires before it registers. No control of what reality is but only what the brain and self desire. Desire to see.
This place was a concentrated stare of hypnotizing-ly original in the everyday decor of it despite that he knew he never carried a gun in his trousers before. And despite he knew that the leaves on the trees were never this intensely orange fire, he saw insanity as he breathed in through his eyes; he felt insanity as he knew it was December where he stood...Yet where it really was spring. He saw her then, and never noticed his hands taking the gun out.
In a black tank top and dark jeans, he tried to see her features...but just as he saw he forgot. It was as if looking into a fish tank, he himself was a fish and this girl, and another half of him stared from the outside. He could not concentrate on both and could not tell you the colour of the fish...but only that it was.
He bore the gun with a quiver the girl not looking at him but past him and walked through him the first time. He breathed in and turned to say, with a voice he heard when he recorded his voice...but not the voice he heard in his head, “Stand where you are, I’m going to shoot you,” The words were not his own and he only watched it play out. She turned back towards him and laughed.
“Kill me? And what shall I give you in return?” She walked up to him, seemingly uncaring of his threat, slivered her arms around his. A hand on the gun arm he had let fall limp, his surprise with her lips so close to his ear.
“What shall I give you in return? Riches, money, fame, prosperity, peace of mind,” Her hand drifted downwards in the most seductive of manners. If she were death she’d conquer them all to suicide, begging for the breath of her rebellious calm nature. Calculating and cold he felt her teeth would be, but she spoke down just brushing the zipper of his jeans.
“Self satisfaction?”
She fell back now, and leaned against the fence which he had not noticed. And noticed now what he had not noticed was that they were on a bridge. He had no notion of why he cared now, nor did any reason for why he realized the water was disgusting and there were little boats of what he know were from his childhood that docked along the sides of the canal the bridge crossed. The rails of the fence were an ugly blue terribly painted by the lazy slob he’d make faces at in his free time at the opposite way where his apartment used to be at his age of being young. He didn’t look, because the non reality had taken a hold again and spoke for him,
“I’m going to shoot you,”
A wretched pain wrung him. Despite him standing still in the fish tank, outside he fell in contorted circles holding the head digging finger nails into the tender flesh begging for some release. And from the girl he heard dim shouts- too distracted to see her image now more than ever- “Then shoot me damnit! Shoot me!”
“Aren’t you cold?” He stares again, his breath harsh from his outside view torment. A gleam in the eye with the smile and a soft answer,
“Do you want me to be?”
“It would make more sense,”
“It doesn’t have to make sense here.”
Where the decision came he does not know. And he shot her. She fell and he felt his own chest for a wound not there. Walking towards her lifeless body he stooped to her tender flesh, milk coloured and smooth neck, and wishes for her last words. They fall affectionately as if the first drops of rain on the first warm spring day into the unconscious of his mind,
“I only wished to be loved and never lie,”
And he points the gun to himself. The fish tank shatters.
Sunday 7 December 2008
Shadow Baby
Dec. 7, 08
Shadow baby,
What have you learned from your stalking
Of the old despaired man lighting the lanterns
Across the way of a church with broken windows?
What stories have you told him yet, winter?
What metal work ways has he poured into your eyes,
They seem colder now like freezing iron-too soon seen.
Make believe his life as you've made believe your own,
Tell yourself you're different and by what you know
You have a father truly and he was as different as you.
Shadow baby,
What veil do you toss behind you so none can see?
What intelligent eyes don't tell and what a mouth
won't speak with too many others to listen around.
I'll laugh a smile and you'll smile an inward cry,
I won't notice my winter, because you hid in your cover,
And you may say I may have given them to you first ...
My darling, I'll tell none of your life you wish to know,
Take your future upon your stride and wish for well,
Be an adult with chickens and a baby with ignorance.
Shadow baby,
What have you learned from the metal sheets,
Your cold feet demanding to step inside his mind,
Keep blowing my winter, and by the luckless seasons
You'll never ever die.
*
If you've read
Shadow Baby by Alison McGhee this will make sense...If not...Well then some bits may not seem right to you...
Excerpt:
"Clara first spies him through the crack in the stained-glass window of her church,
lighting a string of handmade lanterns in the Adirondack woods. A lone old man, Georg Kominsky
moves stealthily among the shadow world of his hanging, glittering creations."
---
In Alison McGhee's stunning novel Shadow Baby, eleven-year-old Clara is struggling to find the truth
about her missing father and grandfather and her twin sister, dead at birth, but her mother steadfastly refuses
to talk about these people who are lost to her daughter. When Clara begins interviewing Georg Kominsky
for a school biography assignment, she finds that he is equally reticent about his own concealed history.
Precocious and imaginative, the girl invents version upon version of Mr. Kominsky's past,
just as she invents lives for the people missing from her own shadowy past.
The journey of discovery that these two oddly matched people embark upon is at the heart of this beautiful story about friendship and communion, about discovering what matters most in life, and about the search to find the missing pieces of ourselves. McGhee's prose glistens with shrewd truth and wild imaginings, creating a fine novel that will reverberate in the hearts and minds of readers long after the book is finished.
http://www.alisonmcghee.com/shadowbaby.html
Shadow baby,
What have you learned from your stalking
Of the old despaired man lighting the lanterns
Across the way of a church with broken windows?
What stories have you told him yet, winter?
What metal work ways has he poured into your eyes,
They seem colder now like freezing iron-too soon seen.
Make believe his life as you've made believe your own,
Tell yourself you're different and by what you know
You have a father truly and he was as different as you.
Shadow baby,
What veil do you toss behind you so none can see?
What intelligent eyes don't tell and what a mouth
won't speak with too many others to listen around.
I'll laugh a smile and you'll smile an inward cry,
I won't notice my winter, because you hid in your cover,
And you may say I may have given them to you first ...
My darling, I'll tell none of your life you wish to know,
Take your future upon your stride and wish for well,
Be an adult with chickens and a baby with ignorance.
Shadow baby,
What have you learned from the metal sheets,
Your cold feet demanding to step inside his mind,
Keep blowing my winter, and by the luckless seasons
You'll never ever die.
*
If you've read
Shadow Baby by Alison McGhee this will make sense...If not...Well then some bits may not seem right to you...
Excerpt:
"Clara first spies him through the crack in the stained-glass window of her church,
lighting a string of handmade lanterns in the Adirondack woods. A lone old man, Georg Kominsky
moves stealthily among the shadow world of his hanging, glittering creations."
---
In Alison McGhee's stunning novel Shadow Baby, eleven-year-old Clara is struggling to find the truth
about her missing father and grandfather and her twin sister, dead at birth, but her mother steadfastly refuses
to talk about these people who are lost to her daughter. When Clara begins interviewing Georg Kominsky
for a school biography assignment, she finds that he is equally reticent about his own concealed history.
Precocious and imaginative, the girl invents version upon version of Mr. Kominsky's past,
just as she invents lives for the people missing from her own shadowy past.
The journey of discovery that these two oddly matched people embark upon is at the heart of this beautiful story about friendship and communion, about discovering what matters most in life, and about the search to find the missing pieces of ourselves. McGhee's prose glistens with shrewd truth and wild imaginings, creating a fine novel that will reverberate in the hearts and minds of readers long after the book is finished.
http://www.alisonmcghee.com/shadowbaby.html
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