Waiting For Godot

lay with your lies in your grave

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 21:47:42 GMT

(written now)

red is red

and

green is green

until the rainbow comes out
all wrong

and

then you realize that

everything is just all

wrong

and finally you know that
lie only with courage
and lay down your guard only with courage
and lying around

only with courage

courage to pull through

and finish lying around with your

lie

because in the end,
truth does not become you
until you feel too guilty

and

honesty does not become you
and

care does not become you
because

truth only becomes you
when you feel weak and guilty

so lay around with your lies
only when you can lie in the grave
with your lies
and make those the truth

just somebody to call

Tue, 11 Dec 2007 07:16:59 GMT

((written, well, now))

I am just somebody to call
When your pillow girlfriend is
no longer warm enough for you
Guzzle down your wine
Warming you enough to remember that
You have feelings
But never enough to remember that
I have feelings
And look for somebody to hold
On those cold, lonely nights
When you remember that you're alone
Dial my number
In your pre-programmed phone
Late at night
Knock on my door, and pull down your pants
Call you at night when I'm crying
Tell me you're too busy
To deal with real life

Fleeting Reality/Escape

Sun, 15 Apr 2007 21:31:35 GMT

(written, well, now)

I lie next to you:
Your insecurities, your eyes,
And the beautiful person that you are.
Your words caress my fragile body
With gentle fingertips
As I unzip my self-hatred
And dare to believe that I
matter
And that I am
beautiful
And that I am
wonderful
And that I deserve to be
happy.
You make me smile
And you make me forget that I am
inadequate
And that I am
ugly
And that I am
useless.
But only for a moment.
Before I return to reality
And see only fleeting glimpses
Of a disappearing shadow of
Love that I imagined.

"music is dance made visible"

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 09:51:26 GMT

(written, well, now)

The notes swim through me slur by slur,
fingers of the staff run through my hair
Biting down in fermata,
I feel suspended in air mid-leap.

Moments freeze,
and a staccato turns into a semibreve
Four-measure rests tinkle like icicles
as I pause, pointing my toe to the sky.

Tiptoeing on point
to the sound of piano legato
Holding in energy until fortissimo allegro explodes
and carries me across the stage

Bare feet burn across the hardwood stage
as staccatissimi trample and echo:
Bouncing off the endless concrete walls
and disappearing into fading lights

I can't deny how I can't fail to smile sometimes.

currently untitled

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 10:32:33 GMT

these tears just don't come out anymore
they shy away from the rest of the world
hiding behind curtains of thick skin
and clothe themselves in cynical laughter

it's gotten to the point where i don't even try
to swallow the tears that try and form
they just deny Newton's law of gravity
and refuse to fall down to the ground

oh why does it have to be like this?
hiding our tears from the rest of the world?
oh why do we hide in the darkness of our own rooms
and suckle on the blood from our self-inflicted wounds?

the icicles tinkle inside--blizzard's forming
snowing building up, higher and higher
i can't breathe for air any longer
my head's under frozen water

gasping for relief
i just want to breathe in some sense
before the blizzard sends shards of hopelessness
tingling up and down my spine

oh why does it have to be like this?
hiding our tears from the rest of the world?
oh why do we hide in the darkness of our own rooms
and suckle on the blood from our self-inflicted wounds?

i'm waiting for the snow to melt into tears
but the longer i wait, the harder it seems to become
i take a knife and cut out my heart
in hopes that the pain will let them fall

but the pain doesn't go away
which is why crying is pointless
and the tears refuse to fall
becase they fall into an empty space anyway
they melt into the tissues they fall upon
and act as if they were never there
and never seen by the world

so tell me, what's the difference?

oh why does it have to be like this?
hiding our tears from the rest of the world?
oh why do we hide in the darkness of our own rooms
and suckle on the blood from our self-inflicted wounds?

i can't figure out what to title this song(?). pointless tears? blizzard tears? frozen tears? they all sound so mundane and trite. yeah. and there's definately a change of attitude by the end. i guess that's what happens when you write it in the course of an hour. i also want to add another verse or two after the "bridge"-like-thing or whatnot... i just obtained a writer's block and everything i ended up writing seemed idiotic. i just realized how appropriate the title of the song i'm listening to on repeat is.

untitled

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 08:20:19 GMT

(written, well, now)

the feelings well up inside
until a shiver runs up my spine
sending a wave of shivering crimson
up to my tired eyes
and then they tear
bringing a tide of ecstacy
through your shivering body
as you write "I want love"
in blood instead

(2/3/07) I just realized that the poem changed point of view part way through. This was also a really bad poem. Yes.

dad

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 09:57:41 GMT

What is “dad” but just another empty word?
For twenty years I have called you Dad,
But "dad" shouldn't mean
tears.and.hurt.and.pain.and.anger.and.confusion.and
all these feelings of inadequacy.
So it shouldn't matter
that you
are no longer mine to call
"Dad,"
right?
Then why
do I want to rip out my heart
and smear it across the chalkboard
in a dry spine-tingling "screeee"
while exploding fiery yellows
and playing the blues
over my blood-smeared canvas?
my feet want to shasee away
in leather-bound points
as obscure melodies finger my hair
that slowly begins to melt away.
But,
Filial Piety yells at me to
forgive and forget
and to stay
and to swallow my tears
and to call you
and say,
"Dad."

let us forget

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 08:57:21 GMT

(written, well, now)

let us drink to the night
when our visions exploded
and the heat ran high

let us dance for the moment
when we decided that we were too cool
to keep on living

let us be proud
and lift up our heads
to deciding that we were goddesses
and running naked through the night

let us swing from the stars
against the constant backdrop of a midnight blue
where time has lost all meaning

let us turn our backs and close our eyes
from the light of the burning bridges
pressing heat against our backs

and then forget.

the last line feels very abrupt. but i think it almost works.

please pause

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 08:51:48 GMT

(written, well, now)

STRUGGLETOGETWORDS    O U T.
BAR-(can'tseemtogetoutofthe)-RIER
ofMINDandWORDSandFEELINGSandTHOUGHTS
all incomprehensibly smashed togetherintoone
b   l u r r i n g   b   o u n dar ies
and
    mixing. mixing.   mixingmixingMIXING
blueREDGR(orBROWNange)EENP(b)U(l)R(u)P(e)LEyellow
YESALLOF THEM TOGETHERTHETHERETHERFOREVEREVER EVER YES
        yes.
blur.them.all.together,
because they become together
and expand (EXPONENTIALLY)
until your heart EXPLODES WITH A
FURY AND MIXTURE AND CRAZINESS OF REDS AND BLUES
AND ALL TOGETHER TOBECOMEA
            vomit-brown
   and then
it

all

s
   t
o
      p
    s
.
pause.

Um, yes. that's pretty much the only whay I know how to describe how this feels. Yeah, yeah. I'm writing about not being able to write. Go figure. The spacing looks a lot better in plain text format (I write these in notepad first).

seventy on a forty-five

Sun, 28 Jan 2007 07:37:22 GMT

(december 30, 2006)

she's learned to live in her own damn mind
singing out their screams
and the harsh remarks
crying away frustrations in the dark

she was taught to hate the way she moved
destroy any imperfections
within herself
slapping away any undeserved happiness

he says, "i ain't your father no more"
then there was silence and then no more
the speedometer climbin' up to seventy
while the sign is sayin' forty-five

night after night she cried in bed
wanting so badly
for a family day
instead of crying in the dark

he says, "i ain't your father no more"
then there was silence and then no more
the speedometer climbin' up to seventy
while the sign is sayin' forty-five

so she finally grew to love herself
learned to appreciate who she was
and finally believe
that she was worth anything at all

at that point the parents knew
she no longer cared
if she was beaten black and blue
and she was willing to just fly away

he says, "i ain't your father no more"
then there was silence and then no more
the speedometer climbin' up to seventy
while the sign is sayin' forty-five

they were driving down the road
he hated the way she has learned to live her own life
and she hated the way he was trying 20 years too late
and he said, "i ain't your father no more"

she was silent, pretending not to care
holding back the tears and wanting to hate
but then she closed the doors
and let the tears come pouring out

he says, "i ain't your father no more"
then there was silence and then no more
the speedometer climbin' up to seventy
while the sign is sayin' forty-five

a fatal attempt to write a song-type thing. yes. i'm not good with songs, but that's okay. no idea how it would sound. it probably wouldn't work anyway. yeah. okay. i don't really have much else to say about this. It's been while since I've written anything. Ever since Nick and I broke up, I haven't been able to write.

My Muse

Tue, 02 May 2006 04:38:09 GMT

(written, well, now)

i am
in search of darkness
in the laughter in my mind
pounding through the sinuses
in my heart
everything is gone
the desire, the need,
THE.FIRE.IN.WHICH.
itfuelsmyWILL
and makes me want to
care about my own
bleeding heart to
sew it back to-
get-her.
where is the light,
my candle, my flame,myburning
embers to scald my skin
and leave scars of love
(or only a rememberence)
s i l e n t ...
i search my ghost world
barely holding onto whisps
of the hopes you told me
and made me believe:
forever was forever
and that never would never come.
(words.
only temporary.)
trying to find
that.
flame to help me burn
again
to try and find)
( ).

karma

Thu, 16 Mar 2006 23:03:01 GMT

(written, well, now)

and
i was just another one
of your made-up fairy tales
spun of sugary goodness
and
i just a mirage in your
green-blue-grey eyes
reflecting an image
of
just somebody else
in your mind
the epitome of perfection
an image of
of beauty and
of
an aura of
everything you ever dreamed of
in your mind
what you believed me to be
someone
who you wanted to be with
who you promised
that everything was to be okay
and that i'd never cry
tears of sadness with again
and that you were going to
be the one to make me happy
but
you can't
because i'm
not the girl you thought i was
i am
the girl with the scissors
in hand
blinding swinging it around
slicing the pain
and frustration
away
for the moment
because she's not allowed
now allowed to
to feel
to cry
to be happy
because
nobody believes that she deserves
to
to feel
to cry
to be happy
and perhaps
perhaps she doesn't
and i suppose
that
that's karma,
bitch.

control

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 08:49:48 GMT

(written, well, now)

grasping at straws at
MYOWNINABILITY) TO
control (is everything and yet nothing
to me and my (mind)
clawing tearing ripping
at the shreds of
        PUREHATRED
(andyet(timidness))
and
     insecuritiesof the need.
to be right and yet
wanting to be oh-so-wrong.
(now)i know (BUT
(i don't want to.)
ignoring logic
feels JUST RIGHT)
selfishness: LatchesLeeches
GRABSON WITH WHOLE HAPPINESS
        bthe feeling of tortured
    mind.
stop.
control: would be.
    i want to be.
nice.
(cruel)

untitled

Thu, 12 Jan 2006 08:44:17 GMT

(written, well, now)

to your eyes i am.

nothing. is everything to you
and that's all you see in those
dark brown irises
black hole absorbing every.

imperfection. is no good
because i am never good enough
for your eyes
and every msitkae made by
these clumsy fingers of mine are.

reasons not to love me.

red ecstasy

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 00:57:36 GMT

(written, well, now)

           DIVE
             (into)
a shallow pool of naked tubes of paint
with your bare skin
touchingfeelingMOLDING
to the cool, fluid motion of the
semi-solid, semi-liquid, who knows WHATITIS?
because ECSTATCY feelings of coolness
against the gravel hardness of your
rough skin patches on your knees
(invisible)scars of white criss-crosses
on the sun-hardened skin
                      SWIMand
roll(ing) around touching yourself
between the legs and smiling
in the ;
                      silence ;
    of beauty
caked with clumps of first green.
then blue;
and then purple,
andeveryPOSSIBLEshadeofREDbrilliance
flying all over painting yourself
all those shades of
RED flying over blood rushing to your
breasts as you close your eyes
           and pretend that
    you're happy rolling around
and you ignorethat.
(it'sonlypaint)

confuse(ing)

Wed, 09 Nov 2005 17:02:19 GMT

(november 7 2005)

cryingtryingfailingreaching
--help
hands raw
concrete slabs made for hitting
slappingtear(ing)falling
concrete ground made for colliding
(with)nothing i don't know
creating lines criss-crossing over
the sulcuses criss-crossing my mind
candy heart melting in the salty rain
fallingfreezingwet(ting)
   drops one
           by
one
scratchingpounding yellingscreaming
NO SHOUTINGOAWAYESOMETIMES
      maybe
red paper heart ripped
into many emaciated pieces
bled too dry and crusted with
stones embedded in the
cracks . . .    .      .
reachingfailingtryingcrying(confuse(ing))

yellow-brick road

Fri, 14 Oct 2005 04:09:56 GMT

(written, well, now)

and you lay your words down in front of me
brick by brick, the winding trail
paves its way to:
silence echos in the chasms
plaster fills the cracks between
careless thoughts tossed around
as we toast to our way of life
and drink sour wine to wash
the taste of dried-up hopes on our tongues
white-washed walls smeared
with the dirt of your
lies so easily slipped from between
your teeth take a bite out of the flesh of my
trust
ing you with my life
as you push me in front of the incoming train
: three thirty pm homeward-bound.
right on time.

storybook

Tue, 06 Sep 2005 00:51:16 GMT

(written, well, now)

snow gently falling down on cedars
surrounding the cold biting my nose
fingers wriggling in my blue-and-white stripped mittens
just trying to survive

your last words reverberating through crystal clear
air: the silence of the surrounding stillness.
blanketted by the soft snow, one would think.
but no.

i always hated saying good-bye
lying to myself and believing
that it would never be true
if we never said it.

and you believed, too,
you said;
to me: never would be forever
and that the storybook would never end

chapter by chapter,
i flip through the pages and wonder
which of these words written
were the true accountance of the past

as lies and truths blend into one
i wonder why fairy tales were ever spun
by the imaginations of humans in the first place;
a futile attempt to live in another world,

perhaps?
even if just for a moment:
a peaceful silence of the individual snowflakes
dancing through the air for no purpose other than rejoicing in their beauty.

alternative ending

Tue, 06 Sep 2005 00:49:57 GMT

(written, well, now)

although the smiles perpetuate
and the scars on my wrist have disappeared
back into the background of otherwise untouched skin
i wonder why i continue to fish
with a barbed-wire hook
catching myself by the mouth
dipping into the pool of memories
changing the lifetime of future regrets
as i continue to drown myself
with going back to the
momentos of the present:
different from the future of the past.

untitled

Tue, 06 Sep 2005 00:48:55 GMT

(written, well, now)

memories crash against the windowpane
blurring the scenery passing by
and i wonder whether my headlights
will give-out before the night dissipates
and i wonder whether i will learn from these tears
blurring the neon-green time blinking
first 1:27 am, and then 2:49 am,
and i wonder why feels like a lifetime has flown by
when it's been less than two hours
that these wheels have been turning.
the fingers of my left hand barely steering the car
driving itself down an unlit road (resolution unknown) while
the fingers of my right hand are clinging on
to your scent (as they brushed through your hair
less than two hours ago)
and i wonder if i will be
driving back down this road again the other way
once the dusk arrives again the next day
only to turn back with torn half-pictures
of my empty smile clutched in my hands

words

Mon, 05 Sep 2005 23:57:17 GMT

(written, well, now)

hypocritical juxtaposition
   of words(lies)and(morelies)actions
contradiction; your promises
made complete only by (somebody else)
they mean nothing(andyet;
     EVERYTHING
(what is the word "every"?
because forever is never and always
is the tomorrow that will never
come and the yesterdays of perpetual
      circulating
(loving your smile (saving it fo
r somebody el
   :se))
til-un it lands onto the vocabulary
dictating of the later that
eventually comes
      (but NONOT)
   hatred
because the circle is only fully
closed with the
             eyes of somebody else
never needing to figure out
and realize that your:
past((becauseitdoesn'tACTUALLY
EVER GO AWAY just because)
(ignore)-ance.) are pictures of
perfectly cracked smiles promising
of promises of later coming tomorrow.

raw polaroids

Mon, 05 Sep 2005 23:51:04 GMT

(written, well, now)

and your memories
freshly anew
bloody red slashes
flesh anew rubbed
(raw)
   your happy memories
      smiling in your new
polaroid of a piece
collage of somebody
else's
pieces of you broken pieces
of my tears for you
falling
crying;
tears falling for no reason
other than:
   lost in a vortex
at the event horizon
teetering edge see-sawing back
         (and forth.)
YOUR eyesFLASHINGBRIGHTLYWITHTHE
LIGHTOFATHOUSANDSUNS blind
    the truth of your lies to
my decieved (andliesofa)love.
      sometimes.
the only times i feel
safe.(dangrousthoughts)spilling
o ve    r.

ghost

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 10:25:56 GMT

(written, well, now)

tell me why i can no longer feel

you

and yet your presence hovers,

hanging heavily on a single spider's thread

threatening to give, but never quite breaking

into the splitting of the mind,

a wide chasm in between filling with

blank thoughts of you;

out-of-focus pictures of your face

that my hands can still feel while tracing the air

denying the past in attempts to live in the

present smiles dusting over the

trail

tears

leading from

me to

you

making me wonder

if you real or just a lie

to idlely pass the time away.

silent movie

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 10:24:05 GMT

(written, well, now)

clips of your smile flash before my eyes
words from the past call out to me in silence
like a reel of a silent movie running through my head
frangments of frames removed leaving
only empty thoughts to replace old memories
i reach out to grab ahold of what's left,
colliding only into air, with the silence so strong
moments after moments beat my mind
with a wooden bat with your initials carved into them

due for some major re-editing. just an idea. intend to expand it. knowing me, probably won't.

tango

Mon, 20 Jun 2005 01:44:33 GMT

(written, well, now)

for one moment
dance this tango with me
    one     two
cross back right stubbed toe
ow! smile/laugh
hold(on)for(ever)life.
three    four
       i'm beautiful (you say)
   smile. sway. kiss.
        five    six
questions of fate
asking why with answers already there
stars on the ceiling
   inthedarkwesavethenight
seven   eight
         now what?
now: waltz with me.
(one two three)