It’s ten o’clock and my heart’s still pounding
I’m glad to know it works but
it’s overkill
you screamed at me and my ears didn’t break
my heart bruised from the tidal sound waves, though
I kind of wish it would stop its percussion
giving me a headache from this
emotion-sickness
I reacted like a snake
but the poison’s in my blood,
nauseating my future
unless I can
pray harder than a nun,
to the God I choose to believe in
yet choice isn’t really mine—
I was chosen to live through this
disaster
like every hurricane, tidal wave,
flood, and plague
there’s a day of static living,
unnoticed heartbeats,
near-death breaths,
gazes on horizons
from which we expect
the sun
so here’s to tomorrow,
or the next day if that’s what’s meant
to be
the calm after this storm
or the one before the next
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Alejandro video rant.
For those of you who've seen the video, don't fret. I didn't quite know what to make of the meaning at first, either. I thought it was beautifully done (as usual). I did think some of the imagery pushed even my boundaries a bit....until I got thinking and reading.
I read some interesting "explanations" or views of what the video means to different people. Here's one such example: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100611170717AAqsW7U
My take? Well, let’s first look at how I feel/think about other people’s interpretations. Yes, it appears to represent gay love and what condemnation that the LGBT community gets from society in general and from religion. Religion is obviously a huge symbol in this video.
One person's explanation said they thought Gaga was Alejandro in the video. This concept really struck me as ingenious. Gaga is a representation of a gay man who is condemned and killed by society and religion for his sexuality. It makes a lot of sense if you watch the video.
She could be representing the LGBT community through the eyes of Catholicism and Christianity. Hence, as a representation of the LGBT community, she swallows her religion because of its conflicting ideals with her own (i.e. she swallows the rosary) and burns in the end because she isn't straight. The other nuances in the video could be interpreted in different ways (i.e. the machine gun bra, the crazy goggles that distort reality, the heart on a platter, etc.)...
What I personally got from the video is as follows.
The imagery in the beginning of the men marching with the Star of David and other metal symbols of religion signifies how men are supposed to be masculine and aggressive in our society. You soon find out they’re really not aggressive. They’re not Nazis (as they appear in their uniforms), but victims of fascist-like powers in society that repress them. They have to fight for their love and fight society for the right to express themselves.
Her face is also juxtaposed with a man sitting on a bed with a gun. (You don’t see the gun ‘til later). I feel that she’s the expression of his frustration with not being able to express himself or his sexuality. She tries to stay aloof and ignorant to reality to not have to face society with those cloudy goggles on. In a way, she represents society because she’s got her blinders on and sits far away from the world in her tower. She’s actually a vampire in that first scene—a monster trying to silence and hide what the men are trying show her and make her hear. She tries to deny everything they represent and gains power out of their silence and repression.
The next scene with the guys on the beds and the ropes are again a symbol of how society tries to control how men and women should express sexuality. She tries to pull them this way and that. But, she realizes she can’t. They will love how they love. They feel the pull, they feel the pain of the ropes but can’t help how they feel inside.
It’s no accident that she’s a bit androgynous in this video. The androgyny helps her to transition from one symbolic character to the next. At first, she is representative of society and therefore restrictive. She’s trying to be in control. After she realizes she can’t be in control, she becomes a religious symbol. The upside down crosses and the sacrificial nature of the scene where she’s surrounded by the men throwing her around shows how religion condemns homosexuality. Religion conflicts with a gay person’s freedom of expression. As she submits to her true nature and “frees herself,” off comes the religious robes. They stop attacking her but almost revere her sexuality.
Again, the machine gun bra could be a symbol of how the LGBT community has to fight for their sexuality. She has to use her sexuality as a weapon to win freedom. She’s also surrounded by men in military uniform. The fight to win freedom of expression doesn’t really turn out too well for her (or Alejandro if that’s who she is representing), though. She tries to be free of the religious hold on her—of the condemnation from society. Yet, she’s last seen in the most religiously symbolic form of the video: as a seemingly dying nun in red. She swallows the rosary as this last character because of her “impurity.” Her sexuality and representation of the LGBT gets her killed. She disintegrates in the very end. Therefore, to twist your mind further, she could very well be the body in the coffin at the beginning.
Weird video? Yup. Lots of symbolism? Definitely. And no, this video isn’t a copy of anything Madonna. I came across some comments that accuse Gaga of copying Madonna’s “Vogue” video. It boils my blood when people say she’s copying Madonna because, unlike Madonna, she tries to convey a message that transcends a quality of simple entertainment and sexual deviance. She smacks society in the face with what it does best: making entertainment out of the suffering of repressed people. Madonna challenged society’s ideas of sexual freedom, but didn’t go nearly as deep as Gaga does.
(just fyi: Gaga herself said in an interview that the video is about celebrating gay love and the bravery they need to face society http://www.popeater.com/2010/06/08/lady-gaga-alejandro-music-video-premiere)
I read some interesting "explanations" or views of what the video means to different people. Here's one such example: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100611170717AAqsW7U
My take? Well, let’s first look at how I feel/think about other people’s interpretations. Yes, it appears to represent gay love and what condemnation that the LGBT community gets from society in general and from religion. Religion is obviously a huge symbol in this video.
One person's explanation said they thought Gaga was Alejandro in the video. This concept really struck me as ingenious. Gaga is a representation of a gay man who is condemned and killed by society and religion for his sexuality. It makes a lot of sense if you watch the video.
She could be representing the LGBT community through the eyes of Catholicism and Christianity. Hence, as a representation of the LGBT community, she swallows her religion because of its conflicting ideals with her own (i.e. she swallows the rosary) and burns in the end because she isn't straight. The other nuances in the video could be interpreted in different ways (i.e. the machine gun bra, the crazy goggles that distort reality, the heart on a platter, etc.)...
What I personally got from the video is as follows.
The imagery in the beginning of the men marching with the Star of David and other metal symbols of religion signifies how men are supposed to be masculine and aggressive in our society. You soon find out they’re really not aggressive. They’re not Nazis (as they appear in their uniforms), but victims of fascist-like powers in society that repress them. They have to fight for their love and fight society for the right to express themselves.
Her face is also juxtaposed with a man sitting on a bed with a gun. (You don’t see the gun ‘til later). I feel that she’s the expression of his frustration with not being able to express himself or his sexuality. She tries to stay aloof and ignorant to reality to not have to face society with those cloudy goggles on. In a way, she represents society because she’s got her blinders on and sits far away from the world in her tower. She’s actually a vampire in that first scene—a monster trying to silence and hide what the men are trying show her and make her hear. She tries to deny everything they represent and gains power out of their silence and repression.
The next scene with the guys on the beds and the ropes are again a symbol of how society tries to control how men and women should express sexuality. She tries to pull them this way and that. But, she realizes she can’t. They will love how they love. They feel the pull, they feel the pain of the ropes but can’t help how they feel inside.
It’s no accident that she’s a bit androgynous in this video. The androgyny helps her to transition from one symbolic character to the next. At first, she is representative of society and therefore restrictive. She’s trying to be in control. After she realizes she can’t be in control, she becomes a religious symbol. The upside down crosses and the sacrificial nature of the scene where she’s surrounded by the men throwing her around shows how religion condemns homosexuality. Religion conflicts with a gay person’s freedom of expression. As she submits to her true nature and “frees herself,” off comes the religious robes. They stop attacking her but almost revere her sexuality.
Again, the machine gun bra could be a symbol of how the LGBT community has to fight for their sexuality. She has to use her sexuality as a weapon to win freedom. She’s also surrounded by men in military uniform. The fight to win freedom of expression doesn’t really turn out too well for her (or Alejandro if that’s who she is representing), though. She tries to be free of the religious hold on her—of the condemnation from society. Yet, she’s last seen in the most religiously symbolic form of the video: as a seemingly dying nun in red. She swallows the rosary as this last character because of her “impurity.” Her sexuality and representation of the LGBT gets her killed. She disintegrates in the very end. Therefore, to twist your mind further, she could very well be the body in the coffin at the beginning.
Weird video? Yup. Lots of symbolism? Definitely. And no, this video isn’t a copy of anything Madonna. I came across some comments that accuse Gaga of copying Madonna’s “Vogue” video. It boils my blood when people say she’s copying Madonna because, unlike Madonna, she tries to convey a message that transcends a quality of simple entertainment and sexual deviance. She smacks society in the face with what it does best: making entertainment out of the suffering of repressed people. Madonna challenged society’s ideas of sexual freedom, but didn’t go nearly as deep as Gaga does.
(just fyi: Gaga herself said in an interview that the video is about celebrating gay love and the bravery they need to face society http://www.popeater.com/2010/06/08/lady-gaga-alejandro-music-video-premiere)
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Dilemma--poem
Which one to choose?
The toxins of the night, singing their siren song,
beckoning the gluttonous child to go forth
and devour
my next conquest
where your skin is my canvas
if you’ll only give me the colours you feel
so I can craft my legacy
yet
there you are, deaf to my tune
deaf to my heart’s percussion pulsing the sirens along
or maybe I’m muted in your orchestra of possibility.
Do I decide to retreat, coward myself into a person
who cloaks in the guise of ordinary disorder,
unsure of what my standards are except for the notion
that they exist
in those whose nights express what their days should not,
forcing myself to believe their sunlit smiles all the while.
My morning presents danger, in my
intrusive desires, clouding the light of my dreams.
These day-mares exposed to my mind’s jury controlled
by the orchestra you conduct, unaware.
Their symphony condemns the personification of these thoughts,
solidifying the poison within.
You’re my freedom’s expression,
and my captivity’s master—
my what if’s are my shackles and chains.
Whichever I choose, the outcome won’t shine
with the sun that exposes all sin.
In the dusk of my patience,
your orchestra’s verdict awaits its release.
Whichever I choose, the poison will linger,
in veins reaching out to flow with you,
or in placebo words of love and affection
given to those who would take it—only to hide it in darkness,
where the sun cannot reach it
where my heart will freeze
and the song will die while
your symphony roars.
The toxins of the night, singing their siren song,
beckoning the gluttonous child to go forth
and devour
my next conquest
where your skin is my canvas
if you’ll only give me the colours you feel
so I can craft my legacy
yet
there you are, deaf to my tune
deaf to my heart’s percussion pulsing the sirens along
or maybe I’m muted in your orchestra of possibility.
Do I decide to retreat, coward myself into a person
who cloaks in the guise of ordinary disorder,
unsure of what my standards are except for the notion
that they exist
in those whose nights express what their days should not,
forcing myself to believe their sunlit smiles all the while.
My morning presents danger, in my
intrusive desires, clouding the light of my dreams.
These day-mares exposed to my mind’s jury controlled
by the orchestra you conduct, unaware.
Their symphony condemns the personification of these thoughts,
solidifying the poison within.
You’re my freedom’s expression,
and my captivity’s master—
my what if’s are my shackles and chains.
Whichever I choose, the outcome won’t shine
with the sun that exposes all sin.
In the dusk of my patience,
your orchestra’s verdict awaits its release.
Whichever I choose, the poison will linger,
in veins reaching out to flow with you,
or in placebo words of love and affection
given to those who would take it—only to hide it in darkness,
where the sun cannot reach it
where my heart will freeze
and the song will die while
your symphony roars.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tattoo--poem
I'll never forget.
I wrote this a while ago, but it came to mind recently.
Tattoo
I was there,
It happened,
and I couldn’t wait to leave.
My mind’s departure marked
too-early-in-the-morning
for a smooth escape.
Nonetheless,
at ten-after-a-decent-hour,
my feet guided me home,
unaware
of the shadow
lingering
on my tired
flesh.
The mind has a way
of waging wars
against the body,
numbing reason,
reaction,
giving cause
to sickly sensations.
Guilt’s a man-made thing,
yet woman-made was mine.
for Fault cannot be extracted
from where Guilt sank its
venomous teeth.
Reality’s an anvil
that crashes down
on my Coyote-dumb
head,
so comical is the sight
but the result
is something
grotesque-
Gruesome aftermath
of the weight of one’s deeds,
splattering composure
on the canvas of my past,
mixed with the bite-marks
spawned
from Guilt’s poisonous
lust,
bears the cancerous
frost,
invading the flesh.
Frost can burn,
with each brewing regret
rushed to the forefront
of my private
vision,
leaving scars
like a book-
A document of what was,
what is,
what could be
if the venom is allowed
to remain.
I can’t see the sun,
or the moon’s
lustrous glow,
only the scenes
like a movie,
inscribed on
my skin.
Moment after
agonizing moment,
the what if’s cackle at me,
(if I had only left before
the scenes began).
The scar was
reminder enough,
but became prescription
when denial
froze my senses-
Except for
touch.
Fool me once,
and you carry Fault’s Torch.
Fool me twice,
and my Guilt
transforms from lesions
and burns
of your cruelty,
to a permanent
Tattoo,
reminding me of what
I should have done,
reminding me of you.
[Y]our
sins slice through
reality’s grasp,
and shackle my wrists
behind my back,
so I can’t siphon
the poison
you forced me to allow,
embracing guilt,
embracing the pain,
for the physical
woes are nil
compared to the Tattoo’s
condemning reign.
I wrote this a while ago, but it came to mind recently.
Tattoo
I was there,
It happened,
and I couldn’t wait to leave.
My mind’s departure marked
too-early-in-the-morning
for a smooth escape.
Nonetheless,
at ten-after-a-decent-hour,
my feet guided me home,
unaware
of the shadow
lingering
on my tired
flesh.
The mind has a way
of waging wars
against the body,
numbing reason,
reaction,
giving cause
to sickly sensations.
Guilt’s a man-made thing,
yet woman-made was mine.
for Fault cannot be extracted
from where Guilt sank its
venomous teeth.
Reality’s an anvil
that crashes down
on my Coyote-dumb
head,
so comical is the sight
but the result
is something
grotesque-
Gruesome aftermath
of the weight of one’s deeds,
splattering composure
on the canvas of my past,
mixed with the bite-marks
spawned
from Guilt’s poisonous
lust,
bears the cancerous
frost,
invading the flesh.
Frost can burn,
with each brewing regret
rushed to the forefront
of my private
vision,
leaving scars
like a book-
A document of what was,
what is,
what could be
if the venom is allowed
to remain.
I can’t see the sun,
or the moon’s
lustrous glow,
only the scenes
like a movie,
inscribed on
my skin.
Moment after
agonizing moment,
the what if’s cackle at me,
(if I had only left before
the scenes began).
The scar was
reminder enough,
but became prescription
when denial
froze my senses-
Except for
touch.
Fool me once,
and you carry Fault’s Torch.
Fool me twice,
and my Guilt
transforms from lesions
and burns
of your cruelty,
to a permanent
Tattoo,
reminding me of what
I should have done,
reminding me of you.
[Y]our
sins slice through
reality’s grasp,
and shackle my wrists
behind my back,
so I can’t siphon
the poison
you forced me to allow,
embracing guilt,
embracing the pain,
for the physical
woes are nil
compared to the Tattoo’s
condemning reign.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Challenge
It's April and it's cold. Quelle Grande Surprise. But, le soleil is shining. Like my franglais? Me neither.
*sigh* I'm slowly getting back into being fit again, and I'm going to try some new eating habits. No anti-Candida diets or anything because that may kill me right now. You'd have to pry the chocolate out of my dead fingers to do it...but I'd be dead so it wouldn't matter.
I digress: comme toujours.
I did P90X (http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/p90x.do) religiously for almost two months. I got sick for a week, and had to finish school. That whole lovely process took about a month. I've worked out since then and even did a couple of the P90X workouts. I wanted to just jump back into P90X over May and June, but that ain't happening with summer school coming up. Looks like I'll have to make up a workout routine that's a bit more humane during May. I'll need to get my sleep and working out one-plus hours a day is not feasible. *SIGH*
Oh well. That's ok, right? I should probably be concentrating on restoring my bod anyway. School kicked my ass. Time to kick some ass myself. (can I say "ass" on here? Is "arse" better? Now I've said too many times that it doesn't matter.)
That's another thing... Will I make it back to boxing class? I feel like it's been eons since I've been. Oy. We'll see!
Stay tuned...
(or not... you really don't have to, honest. ^^)
*sigh* I'm slowly getting back into being fit again, and I'm going to try some new eating habits. No anti-Candida diets or anything because that may kill me right now. You'd have to pry the chocolate out of my dead fingers to do it...but I'd be dead so it wouldn't matter.
I digress: comme toujours.
I did P90X (http://www.beachbody.com/product/fitness_programs/p90x.do) religiously for almost two months. I got sick for a week, and had to finish school. That whole lovely process took about a month. I've worked out since then and even did a couple of the P90X workouts. I wanted to just jump back into P90X over May and June, but that ain't happening with summer school coming up. Looks like I'll have to make up a workout routine that's a bit more humane during May. I'll need to get my sleep and working out one-plus hours a day is not feasible. *SIGH*
Oh well. That's ok, right? I should probably be concentrating on restoring my bod anyway. School kicked my ass. Time to kick some ass myself. (can I say "ass" on here? Is "arse" better? Now I've said too many times that it doesn't matter.)
That's another thing... Will I make it back to boxing class? I feel like it's been eons since I've been. Oy. We'll see!
Stay tuned...
(or not... you really don't have to, honest. ^^)
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Looking In--speculation
I have braces.
They hurt sometimes,
My back's been hurting, too,
I've been eating badly,
I haven't worked out regularly for the last few weeks,
I jumped off the P90X bandwagon and am finding it hard to jump back on,
I haven't been getting enough sleep,
I still have to clean the chaos that is my room,
I'm dangerously low on cash,
I'm on the outside looking in...
At a life where I have a family,
My sister loves me a lot,
My mom's the strongest woman I know,
I have friends who care,
A shirt on my back,
Pants, too, 'cause pants are good,
comfy shoes,
The ability to run, work out, and dance,
Glasses so I can see,
Contacts for when I want to see less but look different,
Invisalign so my smile will look better someday soon...
I have braces.
They hurt sometimes,
My back's been hurting, too,
I've been eating badly,
I haven't worked out regularly for the last few weeks,
I jumped off the P90X bandwagon and am finding it hard to jump back on,
I haven't been getting enough sleep,
I still have to clean the chaos that is my room,
I'm dangerously low on cash,
I'm on the outside looking in...
At a life where I have a family,
My sister loves me a lot,
My mom's the strongest woman I know,
I have friends who care,
A shirt on my back,
Pants, too, 'cause pants are good,
comfy shoes,
The ability to run, work out, and dance,
Glasses so I can see,
Contacts for when I want to see less but look different,
Invisalign so my smile will look better someday soon...
I have braces.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Weathered--poem
In the sun I feel your warmth
in the darkness, your absence
I can’t seem to find happiness
in a medium of light
when it rains, my sins trickle far away
when it snows, my memories freeze
and torture
what sanity shivers within
when the wind blows through me
my soul goes with it—over the mountain tops
where we looked down on our highway to
bliss
and freedom to wander through time and back again
through all the landscapes that pull us on
With the changing of Your Season,
my skin shed the warmth
I got all too familiar with the rays from Above
reflected in your eyes
Dress me in your dreams
I’ll wear them with pride and don them for
the heavens
Dress me in your hopes
I’ll make them my armour
for I must now face Tomorrow
without you by my side
in the darkness, your absence
I can’t seem to find happiness
in a medium of light
when it rains, my sins trickle far away
when it snows, my memories freeze
and torture
what sanity shivers within
when the wind blows through me
my soul goes with it—over the mountain tops
where we looked down on our highway to
bliss
and freedom to wander through time and back again
through all the landscapes that pull us on
With the changing of Your Season,
my skin shed the warmth
I got all too familiar with the rays from Above
reflected in your eyes
Dress me in your dreams
I’ll wear them with pride and don them for
the heavens
Dress me in your hopes
I’ll make them my armour
for I must now face Tomorrow
without you by my side
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Our Song--poem
If there was a song deep in my heart
who would it be for
and what would be the point?
Would it be a tribute for good or anger
or to answer the ever-throbbing question:
why?
I wish I knew the words so I could get them off my skin
out of my mind and blood
hiding beneath the scars.
Even if I could compose
a masterpiece or limerick
you wouldn’t gasp in awe
or surprise
at what’s going on inside me.
I have a notion that’s making me ill
And tastes too bitter and still—
you don’t care at all about mind,
body, spirit—of the one who’s writing
these words.
The joke could fasten easily on my shoulders
For I’m mad, yes and disappointment’s
No stranger.
But the punchline
and mainline from my crux to
these words
is I’m affirming my fixation but
doubting the elation
I ever felt
about who this song was written for.
who would it be for
and what would be the point?
Would it be a tribute for good or anger
or to answer the ever-throbbing question:
why?
I wish I knew the words so I could get them off my skin
out of my mind and blood
hiding beneath the scars.
Even if I could compose
a masterpiece or limerick
you wouldn’t gasp in awe
or surprise
at what’s going on inside me.
I have a notion that’s making me ill
And tastes too bitter and still—
you don’t care at all about mind,
body, spirit—of the one who’s writing
these words.
The joke could fasten easily on my shoulders
For I’m mad, yes and disappointment’s
No stranger.
But the punchline
and mainline from my crux to
these words
is I’m affirming my fixation but
doubting the elation
I ever felt
about who this song was written for.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Revision--poem
They were there along,
but we discovered them together—
I didn’t care much about them
before.
Until one day, I pattered along
not wanting to be with my kind.
You seemed to transpire with an incoming breeze,
traipsing in from the brightening
East.
Your presence struck me,
I froze on the path,
not noticing the X marking my voyage’s
end.
Instead of a simple greeting,
you spread your Wings—
more handsome than any I’d
seen.
I fluttered my own, though meagre in comparison
and you urged me to follow
along.
We left Earth below us,
and took on the
Sky.
The old Fly-scape looked unfamiliar and
new.
Instead of condensed rain,
I saw rainbows through the wisps—
Ever more will I love the
Great Clouds
I used to ignore.
but we discovered them together—
I didn’t care much about them
before.
Until one day, I pattered along
not wanting to be with my kind.
You seemed to transpire with an incoming breeze,
traipsing in from the brightening
East.
Your presence struck me,
I froze on the path,
not noticing the X marking my voyage’s
end.
Instead of a simple greeting,
you spread your Wings—
more handsome than any I’d
seen.
I fluttered my own, though meagre in comparison
and you urged me to follow
along.
We left Earth below us,
and took on the
Sky.
The old Fly-scape looked unfamiliar and
new.
Instead of condensed rain,
I saw rainbows through the wisps—
Ever more will I love the
Great Clouds
I used to ignore.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Pseudo-Proclamation, poem
I’ll say it—but I won’t.
I’m scared.
How stupid does that sound?
When you ask me, you’ll hear the ocean—
you’re on hold after all while I slip away
Innuendo: there’s lots
piled up between Us to which we contribute
Mutually
underwraps.
It’s frustrating, I know,
especially when the thought (or theory) slaps my cheek,
forcing my focus on This
sickening possibility—probability?
that our dance is just a Disney
dream.
Some of it is ‘cause only a fool would
believe
in the notion that we’ll just (together) “be”
with no bumps, scratches, scars,
on our egos and sanity
but my body wants to audition
the score anyhow.
I’ve said it but I haven’t.
and I...think the words would wither
before they touched your cognition of
What if?
for a couple of wondering wiles and bods.
I’ve said it. But I won’t.
It scares me, so I’ll Crush instead.
It’s infuriating, but at least
now you know.
I’m scared.
How stupid does that sound?
When you ask me, you’ll hear the ocean—
you’re on hold after all while I slip away
Innuendo: there’s lots
piled up between Us to which we contribute
Mutually
underwraps.
It’s frustrating, I know,
especially when the thought (or theory) slaps my cheek,
forcing my focus on This
sickening possibility—probability?
that our dance is just a Disney
dream.
Some of it is ‘cause only a fool would
believe
in the notion that we’ll just (together) “be”
with no bumps, scratches, scars,
on our egos and sanity
but my body wants to audition
the score anyhow.
I’ve said it but I haven’t.
and I...think the words would wither
before they touched your cognition of
What if?
for a couple of wondering wiles and bods.
I’ve said it. But I won’t.
It scares me, so I’ll Crush instead.
It’s infuriating, but at least
now you know.
Dexterity--poem
can you hear the beast
(it’s breathing, hot upon my neck)—
this mask may meet with each tantalizing
exhale
tempting the
demon
within
I touch up the veneer with my experienced
brush
keeping my guise in check
before It can claw its way from my
skin
I’ll assuage It with the promise of letting It
loose
when the Great One wanes its icy light
illuminating the vermin we’re to
destroy,
penetrating their facades
for I see
myself
reflected in their twisted
destiny
tear off the mask
breathe in
Beast out—
a calculating Monster with flare
cue from the Moon,
it’s time to embrace my
prey
with these Passenger’s arms
of this thrilling
ride
called
Fitting In
(it’s breathing, hot upon my neck)—
this mask may meet with each tantalizing
exhale
tempting the
demon
within
I touch up the veneer with my experienced
brush
keeping my guise in check
before It can claw its way from my
skin
I’ll assuage It with the promise of letting It
loose
when the Great One wanes its icy light
illuminating the vermin we’re to
destroy,
penetrating their facades
for I see
myself
reflected in their twisted
destiny
tear off the mask
breathe in
Beast out—
a calculating Monster with flare
cue from the Moon,
it’s time to embrace my
prey
with these Passenger’s arms
of this thrilling
ride
called
Fitting In
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Crush-poem
I want to want you,
I want to say something
so you’ll turn your head and come
to me.
I want to ask you
for affection and attention
so we could curl up together
and exhale the night away.
Yet I’m sitting here, seemingly
daydreaming
lost in what if’s with every step
I take, back
towards where we first saw
eye-to-eye, and foresaw
bliss in our first “tell” without the
innuendo’d “show.”
And you’re on my mind tonight
again
it’s a repetitive thing—like how I’ve been
chasing my tale—
a cycle of wonder, wander, want—
Then what?
That’s so feline:
wanting things—
or seeming to and all the while
I’m wanting You
I want to say something
so you’ll turn your head and come
to me.
I want to ask you
for affection and attention
so we could curl up together
and exhale the night away.
Yet I’m sitting here, seemingly
daydreaming
lost in what if’s with every step
I take, back
towards where we first saw
eye-to-eye, and foresaw
bliss in our first “tell” without the
innuendo’d “show.”
And you’re on my mind tonight
again
it’s a repetitive thing—like how I’ve been
chasing my tale—
a cycle of wonder, wander, want—
Then what?
That’s so feline:
wanting things—
or seeming to and all the while
I’m wanting You
Thursday, February 04, 2010
ash to Ash--poem
Let me be in the sun—
I’ll burn for the right reasons
instead of letting this blood
boil
for an unobtainable ghost.
Let me be in the sun—
I’m gluttonous for light
in this dust-cloud
of the delusions in
my waking dreams.
Let me be in the sun—
I’ll thrive or fly to
Oblivion—
at least I’ll be something new, something fresh
and flowering
or a soaring wraith of fire.
Let me be in the sun—
since you won’t let me be in you.
Any scalding I bear
will be gentler, dear,
than how I burned for
You.
I’ll burn for the right reasons
instead of letting this blood
boil
for an unobtainable ghost.
Let me be in the sun—
I’m gluttonous for light
in this dust-cloud
of the delusions in
my waking dreams.
Let me be in the sun—
I’ll thrive or fly to
Oblivion—
at least I’ll be something new, something fresh
and flowering
or a soaring wraith of fire.
Let me be in the sun—
since you won’t let me be in you.
Any scalding I bear
will be gentler, dear,
than how I burned for
You.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The End-poem
I will never leave you
Know that—
When you’re facing the light, or the darkness, or the abyss—whatever describes
the other side
in your tangible dreams
Remember at that fragile moment
when Nature’s too big to fathom
and She drowns you in sensory overload
You’ll feel my hand on your heart,
my voice vibrate on your skin
you’ll see my eyes when you close your own
You’ll know
Your mind will carry the key to our
Immortality
and despite all Her fury,
Nature will revere this bond,
step aside,
and lay the path for us to embark on
together,
forever—
At least that’s what keeps my
heart beating
on this plane of human confusion
when I see the tidal wave threatening its
wrath—
I believe you’re waiting for
me, too
Know that—
When you’re facing the light, or the darkness, or the abyss—whatever describes
the other side
in your tangible dreams
Remember at that fragile moment
when Nature’s too big to fathom
and She drowns you in sensory overload
You’ll feel my hand on your heart,
my voice vibrate on your skin
you’ll see my eyes when you close your own
You’ll know
Your mind will carry the key to our
Immortality
and despite all Her fury,
Nature will revere this bond,
step aside,
and lay the path for us to embark on
together,
forever—
At least that’s what keeps my
heart beating
on this plane of human confusion
when I see the tidal wave threatening its
wrath—
I believe you’re waiting for
me, too
Saturday, December 19, 2009
War--poem
I shot the words—
deflect them if you wish
but you can’t deny the point de facto
I hold the Trump to blast this memory to
holy dust
Your lips hold the ammunition with the kryptonite ability
to collapse me onto the Egyptian cotton battlefield
where we waged countless wars before
I can see you’re unsettled, agitated, and ready
my eyes try to penetrate your shield of false affection—
I know I’ve succeeded once you’re on your
back
but the fall is so long, we’d be fighting forever
so take it out on me
get back at me
avenge the violation
I stripped your armour,
threw it out with stale memories
of all the times we sat and bitched with no substance in
between
I’m standing, you’re struggling—it’s the most we’ve done
in relationship-ages
Take it out on me
because I can finally take it
and turn it on you
to teach you what I’m made of—
and not what you want me to be.
deflect them if you wish
but you can’t deny the point de facto
I hold the Trump to blast this memory to
holy dust
Your lips hold the ammunition with the kryptonite ability
to collapse me onto the Egyptian cotton battlefield
where we waged countless wars before
I can see you’re unsettled, agitated, and ready
my eyes try to penetrate your shield of false affection—
I know I’ve succeeded once you’re on your
back
but the fall is so long, we’d be fighting forever
so take it out on me
get back at me
avenge the violation
I stripped your armour,
threw it out with stale memories
of all the times we sat and bitched with no substance in
between
I’m standing, you’re struggling—it’s the most we’ve done
in relationship-ages
Take it out on me
because I can finally take it
and turn it on you
to teach you what I’m made of—
and not what you want me to be.
Pyramid
I'm trying to find you in other people, other places than from where I see you.
I still don't know why you put us through this.
I miss you.
I still don't know why you put us through this.
I miss you.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Self-therapy: "Into the woods"
Sometimes, my mind is my enemy and tormentor. It won't translate my sensations, thoughts, memories, emotions into words that flow like Appleton Jamaican rum. That's my favourite rum: smoother and more potent than any pirate can muster. See? This is silly. I want to write something deep--something complicated and intricate to reflect all the f***ed up things going on in this cranium. I feel things wildly, obsessively, then when I try to transcribe these things to paper (or screen..) it seems pointless or petty. But, not many people read this anyway, so this seems like a decent space to vent--no shrink's couch required.
I'm frustrated with the notion that you can miss what was and more infuriatingly, what could have been. I've been told not to think "what if." It can be dangerous. You can fixate on something that will never be--or will never likely be. Yet, the curiosity still burns and prods at you constantly. I miss what could have been. The longing makes me angry. But I know I'll let go. Ever feel this way? Stuck on something, and just wanting to release? When does that precious moment happen, when desire becomes action? When the weight is off your shoulders finally after trying to hurl it off?
How much can you actually protect yourself? I have a gift for diving into things and making associations with corny things like songs, jokes, tv shows...etc... etc... blah blah blah. It's amazing how things can become tainted so quickly and drastically. Once you practice the art of possessing those songs, jokes, tv shows as yours in the end, you can dissociate things you enjoy with the memory (i.e. person) you don't enjoy quite as much anymore.
This sounds like a bad country song.
I believe a recent diasppointment hit me harder than expected because of everything else going on. You know how life can snowball, taking you down with it and toss you into a firepit mercilessly? Yeah. There have been some fantastic things happening, too, do NOT get me wrong. My life is pretty great. I'm just disappointed in a few things.
That aside, back to this journey through the thicket of my mind.
I don't know why I torture myself. I look for clues, signs in the trail and evidence of what was between an "us"--me and someone else--to understand what went wrong or if it was ever "right" at all. This time, I honestly feel like things shouldn't have ended this way. Then again, if you're a fatalist, then everything happens for a reason, n'est-ce pas? I believe in that for most things. My life is too weird and peculiar to not believe it a lot of the time. Yet, I want to understand why things played out as they did--why certain things in my life just aren't functioning the way I want them to.
My health and my (figurative) heart are below par at the moment. And have been for some time. Things'll get better--they always do. That's one vital lesson I've learned in this messed up thing called la vie. Thank God, right? But someone please educate me as to why things aren't plugging along smoother than they currently are, and why when I finally start to really let my heart get into something, it sublimates into vapour?
Thanks, Universe. I know you'll return the favour some day.
Until then, I've got my girlfriends, writing, chocolate, dancing, and a night out tomorrow night that I'm greatly looking forward to.
Thanks for..."listening." I hope this'll help me move on. Writing usually does. Onto other things for the day...
I'm frustrated with the notion that you can miss what was and more infuriatingly, what could have been. I've been told not to think "what if." It can be dangerous. You can fixate on something that will never be--or will never likely be. Yet, the curiosity still burns and prods at you constantly. I miss what could have been. The longing makes me angry. But I know I'll let go. Ever feel this way? Stuck on something, and just wanting to release? When does that precious moment happen, when desire becomes action? When the weight is off your shoulders finally after trying to hurl it off?
How much can you actually protect yourself? I have a gift for diving into things and making associations with corny things like songs, jokes, tv shows...etc... etc... blah blah blah. It's amazing how things can become tainted so quickly and drastically. Once you practice the art of possessing those songs, jokes, tv shows as yours in the end, you can dissociate things you enjoy with the memory (i.e. person) you don't enjoy quite as much anymore.
This sounds like a bad country song.
I believe a recent diasppointment hit me harder than expected because of everything else going on. You know how life can snowball, taking you down with it and toss you into a firepit mercilessly? Yeah. There have been some fantastic things happening, too, do NOT get me wrong. My life is pretty great. I'm just disappointed in a few things.
That aside, back to this journey through the thicket of my mind.
I don't know why I torture myself. I look for clues, signs in the trail and evidence of what was between an "us"--me and someone else--to understand what went wrong or if it was ever "right" at all. This time, I honestly feel like things shouldn't have ended this way. Then again, if you're a fatalist, then everything happens for a reason, n'est-ce pas? I believe in that for most things. My life is too weird and peculiar to not believe it a lot of the time. Yet, I want to understand why things played out as they did--why certain things in my life just aren't functioning the way I want them to.
My health and my (figurative) heart are below par at the moment. And have been for some time. Things'll get better--they always do. That's one vital lesson I've learned in this messed up thing called la vie. Thank God, right? But someone please educate me as to why things aren't plugging along smoother than they currently are, and why when I finally start to really let my heart get into something, it sublimates into vapour?
Thanks, Universe. I know you'll return the favour some day.
Until then, I've got my girlfriends, writing, chocolate, dancing, and a night out tomorrow night that I'm greatly looking forward to.
Thanks for..."listening." I hope this'll help me move on. Writing usually does. Onto other things for the day...
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sensory--poem
I heard your voice through the crowd
I could have sworn it was you, and tried matching it to the figure
whose back infuriatingly wouldn’t turn to reveal
your smile beaming at me
I saw you from a distance—and felt the fluttering nervosa
forcing my heart to beat faster, to ascend to my throat
my breath ceased and quickened all the while—
you’re the alchemist of chaos mixed with sweet serenity
I tasted you on my lips, licking them once I felt the melting
snowflakes floating tantalizingly from the heavens
descending to a plane
where weaker creatures roam
I breathed you in while we swam through bed-sheets
counting the threads to stall and keep you there
falling prisoner to you
with every time I inhaled your spell
I felt you tonight,
last night and likely every night—
I can’t tell when you began and I ended
except when your hands pulled away from my skin
I heard you—though it was only the wind
I saw you—though it was your shadow
I tasted you—though it was saccharine love
I breathed you in—though it was the perfume of Winter’s arrival
I felt you all over me—though it was my cruel neurons’ trickery
I knew you, and not at all,
for you left before you came,
shut me away before embracing me
all with the finality of a few broken words
And despite this assault on my weakened links to reality,
my heart’s still beating fast,
My heart’s beating still.
I could have sworn it was you, and tried matching it to the figure
whose back infuriatingly wouldn’t turn to reveal
your smile beaming at me
I saw you from a distance—and felt the fluttering nervosa
forcing my heart to beat faster, to ascend to my throat
my breath ceased and quickened all the while—
you’re the alchemist of chaos mixed with sweet serenity
I tasted you on my lips, licking them once I felt the melting
snowflakes floating tantalizingly from the heavens
descending to a plane
where weaker creatures roam
I breathed you in while we swam through bed-sheets
counting the threads to stall and keep you there
falling prisoner to you
with every time I inhaled your spell
I felt you tonight,
last night and likely every night—
I can’t tell when you began and I ended
except when your hands pulled away from my skin
I heard you—though it was only the wind
I saw you—though it was your shadow
I tasted you—though it was saccharine love
I breathed you in—though it was the perfume of Winter’s arrival
I felt you all over me—though it was my cruel neurons’ trickery
I knew you, and not at all,
for you left before you came,
shut me away before embracing me
all with the finality of a few broken words
And despite this assault on my weakened links to reality,
my heart’s still beating fast,
My heart’s beating still.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
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