WHERE IS HERE?
Current mood: busy
Category: Writing and Poetry

Currently listening : The Black Halo By Kamelot Release date: 15 March, 2005

12:20 AM - 6 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

In the beginning...(an idea)
Current mood: busy
Category: smitten Writing and Poetry

They were more than clay and river. Chaos raced in their bones and was subdued. They were the self-appointed in a stormy age of pain and fear. Creation rebelled. Adults sank into victims or sinners. Children bled children. Minds spat disease into begging minds. Violence begot unreason. The earth hurt and the sky cried pestilence.

A secret history. A shame made forgotten. Healing desires lies and sacrifice. And that's how it was. A world that forgot itself. But they were believers, of weakened earth and hopeful magic, and they anchored their sanity into the pain of remembrance so that the world would be guided to a safer place; a protection from future humanity.

They named themselves after belief and the laws that would birth that. They were the Creeders; intended protectors of the next day. But they failed to understand that chaos upholds no law and gains no quenching from the redemption of reason.

The killings breathed again. Now it was the Creeders who were dying...

Currently listening : As Far as the Eye Can See By People in Planes Release date: 28 March, 2006

7:29 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

HELLO, LEFTOVERS and WISHES
Current mood: busy
Category: proactive Writing and Poetry

Yes, i've been a neanderthal...but all cave and no hunting. Life has been incredibly busy; working double days has been exhausting but it may pay off in 2008 so watch this space.

After my computer and site got hijacked, i felt quite lost but the jigsaw pieces have been found and the puzzle is almost whole.

With regards poems, i now have no proper record of all what was posted and what wasn't. But there were some less well-written runs highlighted in red which once upon a time meant unposted. Consequently, i insert my illiteracy as it seems better than saying nothing at all.

I hope that you are all fine. That wish always has deeper meaning considering how screwed up most of the few subscribers i kept are...can't hate me when i'm one of you :)

DO YOU WANT TO BE TOUCHED?
Do you take aspirin
'cause there are too many emotions in your head
instead of your heart
Do you burn a candle
so that you can mope in the dark

Do you cry when you want to be happy,
open your eyes when it hurts
and lie 'cause your feelings creep to show
Do you shiver
with the fear of being human

If you leapt from the cliff
would love save you

Are you remotely here

?

THE MAP
Today, I bought the world on a piece of paper
and took it for a walk
to the top
of the highest hill that I could see
With a ruler and care,
I separated Africa's spending spree
and blinked geography goodbye
so that Indian fish
holidayed in the cold Atlantic
and the Reds surfed on North Shore
Atlantis neighboured the Taj Mahal
yet it all felt the same as before
I sent that aeroplane free
on the longest wind
and hoped that it would fly far enough
for God to find it and find his way back to me.

DIFFERENT RULES
(The Real Thing in Parody)
Wake from your life,
the wetting of your tears like piss
Today, I and an image of you escape,
somewhere escape

Hurry, get undressed
before my eyes reflect in your mother's,
before my lust breathes a bubble

Think, keep thinking,
hold onto our blackness
Think, keep thinking,
that you me do love
Try resisting this invasion of chill
Mumble a poem
of dragons and soul fire
You can laugh
(the one that you mock with)
but your rules will tremble at our arrival

Your lips are colder than mine;
our tongue one
but HA!
we're forever together
We hope that you stay awake
in that other place
…
that other place
…

THIS MEANS NOTHING
Miscarriage or
the baby with body invaded by Daddy,
the smiling boy balded by leukaemia,
the soldier inhaling serpent gas,
the teenager o.d.ing,
the grandpa, cancer stricken, uncared for

This means nothing to me

Money, the rich man's joke
Rwanda? Where the hell?
Religion, children's bickering
AIDS, another joke
Sex,
Mandela, Gandhi, Crawford, Spielberg

Drop the bomb
'cause this means nothing to me!

Need shelter, sunny skies,
happiness?
Have it … all of it
'cause if you give it to me,
I'll burn it

I don't care
This means nothing

Home is inside a woman who's moved.

THE PRINCESS
Your laugh first left me entranced
and so delighted at the way your eyes shined and danced
I found myself whisked away to a fairy tale world
where friendship is a glass palace
and you're the divine princess

I realized that there was more to you than my gaze beheld
and that all your heart wasn't forged with gold
Still would I feel the sunrise's passionate embrace
and inhale the sweet scent of a red rose in a bed of snow
yet now dive into deeper meaning

The noblest love is a friend to hold your hand when you're down,
to make you giggle and forget your frown,
who'll set you free to build your own world
but help without criticism when you fall
and never forget that they must never domineer

This is my promise.

NEVER FORGET
One day I surrendered my heart to my mind
and planned a trip to the wild side of my dreams
where I'd heard that the natives were wise
A friend was there to see me off
and when I left
he said that he'd never forget that moment
when I'd betrayed him by deciding to travel,
powered by a thought for each pill.

UNTITLED
Phantasms of blood,
boredom dispeller
Ideals of death
(an end to the pain)
Image of a ghost,
a reflection of me.
 
LIMBO
How do I feel after the heat of the moment
Is fear washed away
and reasoned anger replaced with patience?
Is the belief that life is a circle still intact?
How do I feel
after love has been accepted and murdered;
vanquished not treasured?
Will I be the same after this dissection,
carefully put back together
so that my outlook is as caring,
my mind both blind and insightful?

NO

What was and what I should become,
are warring,
scarring me so that the past and the future
will be defeated
My memories will visit history too often
whilst one foot muddles ahead
and the real me will be bound to the moment,
in-between,
where sorrow and dreams meet as lovers
and breathe in madness.

COFFIN
I'm scratching on an unseen door,
a thousand splinters spraying blood onto my thirsty tongue
I wonder where I am?
I wonder where I'm going?

6 feet below
I'm losing my head
6 feet below
I'm living with the dead

Lost in a fright,
my lungs steal the air they need
I know where I am
I don't know where I'm going

6 feet below
I'm losing my head
6 feet below
I'm living with the dead

I've lain here long enough
to have no need to breathe, shit or eat
Now I know where I'm going
and I'd much rather stay in the-

COFFIN!

That's the dregs. if i ever post a poem here again, it'll be a newbie and hopefully a damn site better than those.

Keep well, All!

Currently listening : Thick As A Brick By Jethro Tull Release date: 16 June, 1997

3:49 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

AND THEN THERE WERE 12
Current mood: busy
Category: Writing and Poetry

There were many and then there were just 12. I've come a long ways since 900 blog views in a day. Learnt how to clean along the way. Nice to have you few still with me. Let's see how our second stage goes. Ironically, i still post old scribbles when i should be celebrating the new. Not many left to go...

Never forget. One day I surrendered my heart to my mind and planned a trip to the wild side of my dreams where I'd heard that the natives were wise A friend was there to see me off and when I left he said that he'd never forget that moment when I'd betrayed him by deciding to travel, powered by a thought for each pill. 

UNTITLED
Phantasms of blood,
boredom dispeller
Ideals of death
(an end to the pain)
Image of a ghost,
a reflection of me.

WHEN YOU WERE HURT
And when you were hurt,
i didn't recognise you
for there was no smile on your face
and your hair was grey

And when you were hurt,
i flashed back to the past,
sun shiny moments
that only now burn in my heart

And when you were hurt,
i realised that i'd been uncaring;
too drowned in myself
to see your pain

And when you were hurt,
i wondered if i'd failed
and if you knew that
but were too kind to tell me.
 
And then you were dead.

[Anyone know how to get rid of blog readers. I deleted the friends and made comments friend only yet they remain on the list.)

Currently listening : Eleventeen By Daisy Chainsaw Release date: 06 October, 1992

5:38 AM - 8 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

GOD & FAMILY at the CHURCH PARTY
Current mood: exhausted
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Vicious Diary (Emotions on a Slippery Floor) is a diary of sorts, ink transferred from scraps of paper (written in bars, coffee shops, the dark...anywhere) onto the impersonal computer. It's more a history novella as i haven't touched it in long while. Reflection is my modern disease. But i cut and paste...quite possibily repeating a cut and paste...life is repetitious like that...like...

THE RAMBLING THOUGHTS OF A DETACHED MIND
Part I – God:
It was one of those days when boredom denied the existence of time and killed the possibility of comings and goings. Heat wrestled with it's victims like a locked-up hippo in heat and i cried no complaint as my mind severed me from this shallow world so that i fell onto a stony ground most hard.

Daemons and ghosts approached me and soon we juggled words about the death of true religion in the hearts of Man, the manner in which intellectuals procrastinate, and the magicians Christos and Crowley. I could not help but notice that my new companions were burdened with sadness and reflection throughout our politics. Lest I seem uncaring, i them did delicately question.

"Don't you know!" they all cried in disbelief. I bowed my head in no, ashamed at my naivete. "For you are our God."

Part Two – family:
Not for the first time, i found myself out of love with the day, so i invited my friends to my boredom.

Christ, despite leaving his lonely pedestal, looked exceedingly glum. "Their imagination mistook me for a god so now I find myself failing their expectations," he sighed. A tear dribbled down his cheek.

"Now the power of their belief will imprison you until religion becomes myth," sympathized the Devil.

And so I cried, for at least they were victims of others' device.
After they left, i realised that experiences, not blood, conceived families. Thus my family and the Trinity stands: Jesus, the Devil and Me. In the mirror we bear a remarkable resemblance.

THE LAST CHURCH
The last church i went to consisted of a new and an old building. Beside the old one, a thin hedge ran from the playground, past the house where the pastor and his family resided, to a low, red wall. It was at this end where a small, wooden gate interrupted the hedge. A cemetery grew on the other side. It was old and almost everywhere, headstones sprung like tree stumps from the unkempt grass, weeds snaking around them and green fungi crusting the love words into obscurity.

That church, like all the others that i've encountered, is like that cemetery, DEAD. But death doesn't adopt the form of worm infested corpses. Death is the lack of honest praise; the absence of unadulterated love for God. Death is the liars seeking and attaining social standing, the children drowning under the waves of religion swelled by their parents and the pastor who is sometimes not a pastor but a mere man making a living based not on faith but on deception, lusting after the power that he sways over his, and not God's, congregation.

That was the first reason why i left.

THE PARTY: Off again to where cold beer and lack of cheer go. That place where the beaches are black and I'm under attack by ghosts and unholy hosts who talk jabberwocky like me. HEY! Fuck that! Shout at the buildings. Shout at the street. Pull down the sun and blow up the moon. Hey God, get off that pedestal and stretch your mind. It's party time and you've got to move your feet ("to the rock steady beat"). Let's drink whiskey and vomit feelings. Bring some angels and let's get laid. Pay the devil. He needs the cash. Let him stand on the stage, a messiah of a rock band that will sing in throaty baritone about you and me and breasts … poetical lyrics. Let's become art.

[I, in no way, contain a smidgeon of non-sensical religion from my dissatisfied youth]

PS: As said in my previous blog (3 days left): I'm in a pillaging mood so in a week's time i will be deleting the majority of subscribers. I want this spot to be intimate and real. It's easy to see over a 100 readers each time but hard to know who is here and who isn't so please post a comment within the next three blogs so that i know you're at least a ghost. Thanks.

Currently listening : Till Death Unites Us By Norther Release date: 20 March, 2006

2:20 PM - 6 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

REASON, ADVICE, FOCUS...and PILLAGING
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Writing and Poetry

I'm in a pillaging mood so in a week's time i will be deleting the majority of subscribers. I want this spot to be intimate and real. It's easy to see over a 100 readers each time but hard to know who is here and who isn't so please post a comment within the next three blogs so that i know you're at least a ghost. Thanks.

REASON
I closed the door on your drained reason
and went walking into others;
a woman in a window,
(a Christian diluted by the lover that had died);
An old man in his rocking, coffin chair
(forwards and backwards over memory);
delightful, the child's ball
(a rolling full of everything of nothing).

ADVICE
A flow of handicapped thoughts
from you to me;
my acceptance a distillery for you
Of naked men, baby born,
love shot and confidence rot,
I'm the friendship ear and unlocked tongue
Ask for an opinion
and it will lure you ten.

FOCUS
Whether the moon thin or fat
on the land,
the shadows matter not
for they are outside
and you will always
see the inside of you
even better with your eyes closed.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

Currently listening : Ballad of the Broken Seas By Isobel Campbell Release date: 07 March, 2006

11:16 PM - 6 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

OBSERVATION, MESTICULATION, EVACUATION
Current mood: tired
Category: Writing and Poetry

OBSERVATION, MESTICULATION, EVACUATION
Seconds shiver as liquor lingers
TV parades wrestling clowns
Hi-fi scapegoats a suicide singer
whilst i drool the death of rhyme
Meat surrenders, screaming somewhere
Hearts conflict, reject, EJECT!
Thought toddlers take a toke
whilst wisdom laughs at age...

Over 20 000 views on this blog despite me being so stubborn with subscribers as well as deleting so many people this year. For you regulars, thank you if i made you think at any time. Thought is the goal...even if it's served from a bed of selfishness. And if i repeat any poem, sorry. Got some old scribbles mixed up and not sure where i stand on a dozen. However, will post all.

Currently listening : In Sorte Diaboli By Dimmu Borgir Release date: 24 April, 2007

7:59 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

LET'S FUCK (WITH MY HEAD)
Current mood: drained
Category: Writing and Poetry

Walked out of the pub and the pavement caved in. I fell into this hole where Jesus lived. He said, "Hey, Man, what did you do so wrong that you made you join me?" "I loved," I replied. He nodded: "So did i." We opened the bottle and got drunk on our tears...

or

...The sea should never be compared to human emotions. It may be gentle or rough but it is always in control. The human race can never subscribe to that. In nature, it is more like a god.  Sometimes God:

We lay in the bed, in the apartment overlooking the sea, sex drying itself upon our skin, when I said to her: "Imagine your hole but that you're inside yourself, looking at it from the opposite angle, and you see this penis, wet with your secretions, rise purply towards you, vanish, and then return again and again, rhythmically so that you begin to nod your head in time and outside your gasps are doing the same. Suddenly, the movements erraticise, thrilling you higher - and then it stops. This bloated penis is there, swimming in the liquids of you and it."

"Hey," she said.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Let's fuck."

PS: Yes, i'm bugged. Would like 5 years of memory to vanish; uncaring, betrayal, lies, silence...but that's not the way of love, is it. And this is truly pointless love.

Currently listening : In Sorte Diaboli By Dimmu Borgir Release date: 24 April, 2007

7:32 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

SCENES FROM A MALL 3: SELF-INFECTED
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Writing and Poetry

My Space had me blocked from my blog for a long time. I'm back and much has happened since we lost spoke. But rather than go there today or too soon, i share scribbles of scraps that i've inked whilst outdoors (to less of you since i deleted 100 people yesterday):

SCENES FROM A MALL 3: SELF-INFECTED
What use were the pink, feathered wings attached to the headless mannequin...flight? The broken escalator possessed better direction. Yes, i'm in the mall again, wondering what cake i am if the main ingredients are hate and frustration overwhelmed by a dollop of sadness.

I can't be that smiling Toddler that's holding Mommy's hand. There is only now and a future that will become Now. There's the Old Man battling to descend the stairs, one crutch at a time (or is that one victory at a time?). I certainly can't be that Super Sexy Lass (and take a toilet break to masturbate).

But i could be the Whiner who sat at the table behind me, complaining to her Father about the medicals, the house and the job. Not even a lonely prettiness escaped her lips. Her greetings to her father she hardly saw was that self-consumed shrill that's become the most common human infection. Maybe i could be Him, delivering bad advice and apathies.

I'm dying...

QUEENSRYCHE 'Silent Lucidity'
Hush now, don't cry,
wipe away the teardrop from your eye
You're lying safe in bed
It was all a bad dream
spinning in your head
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain
of someone close to you leaving the game of life
So here it is, another chance
Wide awake, you face the day,
your dream is over...or has it just begun?

Theres a place I like to hide,
a doorway that I run to in the night
Relax child, you were there
but only didn't realize it and you were scared
It's a place where you will learn
to face your fears, retrace the tears
and ride the whims of your mind,
commanding in another world
Suddenly, you hear and see
this magic new dimension

Chorus
I-will be watching over you
I-am gonna help you see it through
I-will protect you in the night
I-am smiling next to you...in silent lucidity

(help me, help me, help me, help me...)

If you open your mind for me,
you won't rely on open eyes to see
The walls you built within
come tumblng down...and a new world will begin
Living twice at once you learn
you're safe from pain in the dream domain;
a soul set free to fly,
a round trip journey in your head
Master of illusion, can you realize
your dreams alive, you can be the guide but...

Currently listening : Empire By Queensrÿche Release date: 10 June, 2003

10:00 AM - 10 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

BLOODY WORLD NEWS: Putin Speech censored by the West
Current mood: depressed
Category: News and Politics

Right now, the world is choking me with it's vomit and it's fumes have become my thoughts. So i remain away from My Space and much. But i ripple today 'cause this is an article everyone needs to read, especially all the good American subscribers to this blog.

"Putin produced a copy of Amnesty International's yearly report condemning the United States conduct in the war on terror. "I have a copy of Amnesty International's report here, which includes a section on the United States," he said. "The organization has concluded that the United States IS NOW THE PRINCIPLE VIOLATOR OF HUMAN RIGHTS AND FREEDOMS WORLDWIDE."

He added, "We have a proverb in Russian, 'Don't blame the mirror if your face is crooked.'"

www.informationclearinghouse.info/article17856.htm

11:00 PM - 12 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment