I see her,
oh, how I see her.
In a field of thorn filled roses,
she breaks out, she stands out.
The wind pressures her to hide,
the sun asks her to stand strong.
Being surrounded by fake flowers,
she feels compelled to be compared.
My blue flower glows bright,
even while hit with the darkest rain.
Brushed with the surrounding pollen,
she resists turning to the roses.
Petals now bruised with blush,
unable to appreciate her reflection.
Waiting for the morning dew,
removing red and turning blue.
My precious Violet smiles again,
she is, who she is meant to be.
I lend my hand from far away,
my blades of grass swear an oath.
If I can't protect your heart,
I promise to surround it.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Standing
Looking at the dust on my feet watching it evaporate before my eyes holding close the memory of exotic blossoms that filled the air with eye watering aromas.
The open garden is now closed for all the world to not see.
Keep your hands away from the fence lest you be grasped by the corrupt open mind.
Many have fallen for the choice, many more will fall.
Blank boards holding nothing but lies, erased over petty feuds.
Standing in the middle with no way out.
All directions lead to something unbearable, something unwise to stand for.
Staying in the middle not for the beauty that was once there but for the beauty that needs to come back.
A beauty of voice, a beauty of opinion, a beauty of power.
In vain, in dust.
Standing in something that can't come back.
Zveshi
The open garden is now closed for all the world to not see.
Keep your hands away from the fence lest you be grasped by the corrupt open mind.
Many have fallen for the choice, many more will fall.
Blank boards holding nothing but lies, erased over petty feuds.
Standing in the middle with no way out.
All directions lead to something unbearable, something unwise to stand for.
Staying in the middle not for the beauty that was once there but for the beauty that needs to come back.
A beauty of voice, a beauty of opinion, a beauty of power.
In vain, in dust.
Standing in something that can't come back.
Zveshi
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Nightfall story
I have been absent from this blog for awhile. Sorry about that. For those of you who wonder if/when I will write anything on here again, the answer is yes. And even if it isn't anything new I will try to post previously unpublished materials that I have way back in the archives.
The following is kinda of dark and relies heavily on imagery.
~~~
Nightfall story- 2008
Blood stains of a bowl cling to strings under the shadow of a chair. revolving. drip. revolving. drop. The shadow takes over the scent causing the maggots to dance. As the chair takes the last rotation of the night, a hand falls out of shadow. The pool of darkness consumes the hand much like it hides the maggots. The string has fallen and disappears. Sunlight pulls the dark curtain away revealing the tools of demise. The tools have become cold throughout the night and are no longer a threat. The dancing maggots have run off leaving marks from their feast. The chair has no more shadow, leaving the hand exposed for the flashing ink. The bowl has a story to tell.
The following is kinda of dark and relies heavily on imagery.
~~~
Nightfall story- 2008
Blood stains of a bowl cling to strings under the shadow of a chair. revolving. drip. revolving. drop. The shadow takes over the scent causing the maggots to dance. As the chair takes the last rotation of the night, a hand falls out of shadow. The pool of darkness consumes the hand much like it hides the maggots. The string has fallen and disappears. Sunlight pulls the dark curtain away revealing the tools of demise. The tools have become cold throughout the night and are no longer a threat. The dancing maggots have run off leaving marks from their feast. The chair has no more shadow, leaving the hand exposed for the flashing ink. The bowl has a story to tell.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Deleterious frog
Old post, but I had to post something :)
~~
Our search tonight follows the deleterious frog. Hopping along his golden pads that can hold only one, lest they be taken under the crimson swamp. He is startled when a female crosses his path. The immortal deleterious frog cannot fall in love so he does not look for long. Reminded of course of the crimson swamp beneath his feet. The swamp takes all the ignorant deleterious frogs who beleive in love. The male deleterious frog hops away hunting for a reason to stay away from the female that caught his eye. After passing the mimicking flies, suitable as food for anytime, the deleterious frog turns back for the female. Ignoring the mimicking flies for a second time he returns to the female only to see another male, an older male, within one hop. Knowing he is no match for the older deleterious frog, he stands back and watches the older male jump to the females pad. The young male deleterious frog watches the two sink to the bottom of the swamp. He realizes again that love at first sight is not worth his youth.
~~
Our search tonight follows the deleterious frog. Hopping along his golden pads that can hold only one, lest they be taken under the crimson swamp. He is startled when a female crosses his path. The immortal deleterious frog cannot fall in love so he does not look for long. Reminded of course of the crimson swamp beneath his feet. The swamp takes all the ignorant deleterious frogs who beleive in love. The male deleterious frog hops away hunting for a reason to stay away from the female that caught his eye. After passing the mimicking flies, suitable as food for anytime, the deleterious frog turns back for the female. Ignoring the mimicking flies for a second time he returns to the female only to see another male, an older male, within one hop. Knowing he is no match for the older deleterious frog, he stands back and watches the older male jump to the females pad. The young male deleterious frog watches the two sink to the bottom of the swamp. He realizes again that love at first sight is not worth his youth.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The path of love
I'm not sure if this is something I should continue and expand, let me know what you think
~~
The statues cry. A fallen solider is dragging himself with one arm along a stone path. He leaves behind him a path of red and black blood. Holding his wound with one arm and dragging himself towards his lover with the other arm. Even the pain of coughing is unimaginable. Determination and love is the only thing that has kept him alive this long. The statues stand motionless, unable to help. They have seen the man walk down this path at night many times. They have seen him running away from them, in the morning, wearing only underwear with the rest of his clothes in his arms, many times. They are left to watch the mans agony. They watch the man become like them. Motionless.
~~
The statues cry. A fallen solider is dragging himself with one arm along a stone path. He leaves behind him a path of red and black blood. Holding his wound with one arm and dragging himself towards his lover with the other arm. Even the pain of coughing is unimaginable. Determination and love is the only thing that has kept him alive this long. The statues stand motionless, unable to help. They have seen the man walk down this path at night many times. They have seen him running away from them, in the morning, wearing only underwear with the rest of his clothes in his arms, many times. They are left to watch the mans agony. They watch the man become like them. Motionless.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
My brain knows what I want to say. My body, does not
Time makes fools of us all. Specifically, the required time needed for you to project a semi-understandable speech pattern. It may come to no surprise to some of you that my sleep pattern is not what most people would consider 'normal'. To be normal, I should be on Toronto/New York time, when in fact I seem to be on Vancouver/California time. My (out in the world) job allows me to have this sleep schedule. The pattern that I have developed, though trying to recalibrate, allows me to remain alert in the later hours of the day while some of my colleagues are resting their head in the hands. However, when I miss sleep altogether I am forced to focus beyond instincts.
Feet, walk. Lips and tongue, speak. Those, I can grasp. Not stumbling or stuttering is what my exhausted mind does not allow. It seems the effect that sleep deprivation has on me, is that of the same to the effect of alcohol on my system, excluding the vomiting and/or constant requirement to relieve the bladder. When my coherence is compromised I am almost always aware of this, even when mental exhaustion, alcoholic inebriation and sleep deprivation are combined. Messages on how to compensate are sent to the rest of the body but more often than not, they are not received. If I could say that Murphy's law didn't become the elephant in the room during these compromised moments, I would. *wow* I would be happy if it was true. Unfortunately, new female infatuations always seem to be introduced to the equation during my compromised moments. Of which I have been having far too many of lately. Compromised moments (due to sleep deprivation), not female infatuations.
It has been some time since I have had a normal (there is that word again) romantic relationship. I have had relationships, sleep overs and afternoon delight but the truly intimate part, still escapes my romantic entanglements. What my aging body and mind seem to long for, is what I can't seem to get. "There has got to be one face and one pair of eyes, that will light me on fire when they're looking in mine." I must now digress, if I don't, I will go further off topic.
Predictable behaviour patterns from my seemingly civilized peers indicates that I should be out having inebriated, drug induced 'fun' inspired and motivated by the libido, during the late hours that I am most awake. These escapades may serve their purpose for those who choose to live with no regrets but I can't change who I am. In the end, I would be lying to myself and those around me by faking the fun. Bouncing around from party to party and partner to partner, as if life is one of those inflatable fun houses, can be entertaining and stress free. All until someone pops the fun house and you have to leave. Most people that populate those fun houses are children whom have yet to grow up.
It is true that throwing caution to the wind to enjoy life and forget all the stresses around us has to be done from time to time. Just don't pop the fun house, and be sure to get enough sleep to be awake but not so much that you are no longer alive.
Feet, walk. Lips and tongue, speak. Those, I can grasp. Not stumbling or stuttering is what my exhausted mind does not allow. It seems the effect that sleep deprivation has on me, is that of the same to the effect of alcohol on my system, excluding the vomiting and/or constant requirement to relieve the bladder. When my coherence is compromised I am almost always aware of this, even when mental exhaustion, alcoholic inebriation and sleep deprivation are combined. Messages on how to compensate are sent to the rest of the body but more often than not, they are not received. If I could say that Murphy's law didn't become the elephant in the room during these compromised moments, I would. *wow* I would be happy if it was true. Unfortunately, new female infatuations always seem to be introduced to the equation during my compromised moments. Of which I have been having far too many of lately. Compromised moments (due to sleep deprivation), not female infatuations.
It has been some time since I have had a normal (there is that word again) romantic relationship. I have had relationships, sleep overs and afternoon delight but the truly intimate part, still escapes my romantic entanglements. What my aging body and mind seem to long for, is what I can't seem to get. "There has got to be one face and one pair of eyes, that will light me on fire when they're looking in mine." I must now digress, if I don't, I will go further off topic.
Predictable behaviour patterns from my seemingly civilized peers indicates that I should be out having inebriated, drug induced 'fun' inspired and motivated by the libido, during the late hours that I am most awake. These escapades may serve their purpose for those who choose to live with no regrets but I can't change who I am. In the end, I would be lying to myself and those around me by faking the fun. Bouncing around from party to party and partner to partner, as if life is one of those inflatable fun houses, can be entertaining and stress free. All until someone pops the fun house and you have to leave. Most people that populate those fun houses are children whom have yet to grow up.
It is true that throwing caution to the wind to enjoy life and forget all the stresses around us has to be done from time to time. Just don't pop the fun house, and be sure to get enough sleep to be awake but not so much that you are no longer alive.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Making up for what?
For the life of me I still do not fully understand why (a certain percentage of) women obsess over make-up products. I do have my theories though. "A little lipstick never hurt anyone" as long as you ignore the lipstick that Poison Ivy used. Though I am still trying to figure out why that same lipstick doesn't hurt her...ok, so ya, losing my train of thought here.
Let's say that you are a not-so-attractive female, (I'm not saying you are. I am sure you are a lovely looking woman, even if you are actually a guy. I mean c'mon it's 2009 people are allowed to be whatever gender they want to be.... ok, wow, losing my train of thought again) with this in mind you decide that maybe a little make-up will hide those 'imperfections', so you use some make-up. A more attractive woman see's that you have 'improved' your outer appearance and she feels that you have become more attractive than her. Being threatened by this, she decides to get a different type of make-up to make her stand out better. An even more attractive looking woman sees that the attractive woman is standing out better and is in turn, threatened by this. So she decides to find even better make-up... Rinse, wash, repeat.
This circle continues for awhile and more than just you, the attractive woman, and the more attractive woman are involved. After the bar for beauty has been risen to an unreachable height, with the aid of make-up and photoshop, you *the not-so-attractive female* (only for this example remember) contemplate the idea of plastic surgery. DO NOT DO THIS.
The only time that I feel plastic surgery is EVER an option is when it is used to heal burn/other accident victims or when it improves your living conditions. "If I had the same nose as *insert hottest new starlet* my life would be better". That is not what I mean by improved living conditions and don't fool yourself into thinking that. Improved living conditions means that having the surgery will improve your sight, sense of smell/breathing ability, hearing etc.
Looking at that third yacht the plastic surgeon down the road bought, it's obvious that not all plastic surgeons have the same views I do. Although the view from a yacht, after you have sold your morals and ethics, could be nice. (I think I'm getting off track again)
Make-up companies and plastic surgeons don't care about how you feel about yourself or even how you look, they care about the money you give them. Yes, there are make-up companies and surgeons that say "if you use too much of this, it won't look pretty" but they are few and far between.
Beauty is you, not who you think you see in the mirror. That blemish, pimple, scar or wrinkle is not as bad as you think it is. Now if you do want to use a little bit of make-up because it gives you confidence and takes you mind off your 'imperfections', ok, fine, I can't argue with that. But please keep in mind that using a pound of make-up (not an over exaggeration) won't cover that void you think you are filling. Your face should not be treated like a painters canvas.
Let's say that you are a not-so-attractive female, (I'm not saying you are. I am sure you are a lovely looking woman, even if you are actually a guy. I mean c'mon it's 2009 people are allowed to be whatever gender they want to be.... ok, wow, losing my train of thought again) with this in mind you decide that maybe a little make-up will hide those 'imperfections', so you use some make-up. A more attractive woman see's that you have 'improved' your outer appearance and she feels that you have become more attractive than her. Being threatened by this, she decides to get a different type of make-up to make her stand out better. An even more attractive looking woman sees that the attractive woman is standing out better and is in turn, threatened by this. So she decides to find even better make-up... Rinse, wash, repeat.
This circle continues for awhile and more than just you, the attractive woman, and the more attractive woman are involved. After the bar for beauty has been risen to an unreachable height, with the aid of make-up and photoshop, you *the not-so-attractive female* (only for this example remember) contemplate the idea of plastic surgery. DO NOT DO THIS.
The only time that I feel plastic surgery is EVER an option is when it is used to heal burn/other accident victims or when it improves your living conditions. "If I had the same nose as *insert hottest new starlet* my life would be better". That is not what I mean by improved living conditions and don't fool yourself into thinking that. Improved living conditions means that having the surgery will improve your sight, sense of smell/breathing ability, hearing etc.
Looking at that third yacht the plastic surgeon down the road bought, it's obvious that not all plastic surgeons have the same views I do. Although the view from a yacht, after you have sold your morals and ethics, could be nice. (I think I'm getting off track again)
Make-up companies and plastic surgeons don't care about how you feel about yourself or even how you look, they care about the money you give them. Yes, there are make-up companies and surgeons that say "if you use too much of this, it won't look pretty" but they are few and far between.
Beauty is you, not who you think you see in the mirror. That blemish, pimple, scar or wrinkle is not as bad as you think it is. Now if you do want to use a little bit of make-up because it gives you confidence and takes you mind off your 'imperfections', ok, fine, I can't argue with that. But please keep in mind that using a pound of make-up (not an over exaggeration) won't cover that void you think you are filling. Your face should not be treated like a painters canvas.
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