XVII

In this state of "otherness"
Some find it's fun to miss
The world around them
When the inside is pure bliss

Snapping into this "truth"
That's been created for me
I watch the unchained enslaved
and know they think they're happy

But if you could follow me
into this tragic unknown

would you?

XVI

If I had gold
jewels and palaces
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the cars
the contacts
and contracts
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the "bling"
that "thing"
but not my word
I am no one

If I had the looks
the fame
the power
no shame
but not my word
I am no one

Read and respond, svp

Santa Maria, Madre de Dios...

came across this story from 2002

"... and I just sit back and shake my head/ wondering what else could lie ahead"

-->2 lines from an as-yet unfinished poem, seem to fit pretty well with my reaction to this. What's yours?

Stockholm Syndrome

Descending into this Malkavian state
Devoid of the basic principles of sanity
Without the outward appearance of such
No one believes that it exists

The thoughts flying around
Cannot be described in a human capacity
They're so obviously alien to the outside
But make such complete sense to me

I see that which most decline to acknowledge
The eternal struggle on the angelic plane
The titanic clashes of immaterial good and evil
Bring me to my knees in physical pain

This which has captured me so
is that which is torturing me so

But given the opportunity and the will
There is no force in me that could kill
That which has ensnared me
Encumbered my mind
Embroiled my soul
Sustained me
with pure
bliss

Part XV

Can I be your saviour?
The trials in your life
the traps in your path
the thieves lying in wait
you will fall to them at some time

Can I be your saviour?
Your heart will be broken
Your feelings torn from shame
Your friends stay away
You will be alone at some time

Can I be your saviour?
The music will stop
The dance will end
The party will break up
you will go home at some point

The trials, I've fought them
The traps, I have tripped them
The thieves have stolen from me

My heart has been broken, my feelings torn
My friends are nowhere to be found

My music has stopped
the dancing is no more
There is no party to speak of

Can you be my saviour?

Part XIV

Head in the clouds
for the tenth time today
dreaming of that place
where I used to play
Remembering the rigs
the cables, chords and stands
the amps, the keys, the gigs
my sticks, the bass, the band
Smiling at how we jam
and dream and rip
through our sets
Recalling how lost I'd get
when the rythym began to flow
how we'd come together and gel
the high we'd get from everything
from the lighter-producing acoustic bits
to the floor-breaking full-bore rock

There were no tears when we all left
just "let's do it again sometime"

Brought back to reality
I don't want to be here
I want to go back
and live out our teenage dreams

It will always be a part of me
and I will always wonder
should I have stayed?

How I miss it sometimes
God I miss it...

Some nasty fun

http://www.addictinggames.com/kittencannon.html

1152 is my record.

I am no one's lackey

Some yutz called me a minion. That does not sit well with me.

Main Entry: min·ion Pronunciation: 'min-y&n Function: noun Etymology: Middle French mignon darling 1 : a servile dependent, follower, or underling 2 : one highly favored : IDOL 3 : a subordinate or petty official

I really, really hate it when someone calls me a minion. I am no one's underling. I will not take orders from someone if I don't want to. The moment I decide that I have had enough of a particular "superior", I leave their service (and sometimes take them down a peg or six). Seriously, if you want to piss me off, call me someone's bi*ch. Then run.

I fight no one's battles except my own. If it so happens that we are on the same side, bully for you. I will fight alongside you as long as you remain worthy of it. But I will not hesitate to drop you in your tracks if you do something to deserve it. Just because we fight together in one battle does not mean we fight together for the whole war. I am on the side that I perceive as correct according to my morals, beliefs and all-around being. I realize that I will lose many battles, and I accept that.

What's my point? Basically, I'm nobody's pawn. And if someone tries to treat me as such, it's to their peril. I don't get pissed off very easily (ask anyone who knows me), but that is one of very few ways to get me mad fast. Other than that, I'm a nice guy.

Lucky XIII [A Warning]

Looking through broken glass
at this disjointed scene unfolding
and defamiliarizing my surroundings
no one had ever told me
it wasn't easy

Trying to break through this
illusion of sentimentality
the quick and the righteous
inject hot-shots of fake reality

Walking through this
fractured smoke-screen
becoming ecstatically grateful
for your emphatic empathy
doctoring the healthy
and taxing the poor
becomes the new piety

Addicted to these therapeutic hits
becoming junked-out social cases
the rehab process a primitive hell
that forces a flawed resurrection of an empty shell
when will it end?

With us.

Part XII (ish)

Bridge

Disenfranchised with the old
Becoming a jaded and bitter troll
The spark fading from within
The spirit's light is growing dim

It's time to leave this present behind
To rework and retool this state of mind
To everything they say there is a time
And now change is the next in line

Awakened opportunity awaits it's chance
To take the lead in this new dance
New days will dawn, new horizons grow near
The only option to face it with uncertain fear

Tomorrow's the promise of things unseen
Things which few yet dare to dream
But those dreams are revealed in time's light
They give our hearts and hopes the ability to take flight.

Working for fun

I spent my Sunday doing things that I find amazingly fun, writing and creating things with Photoshop. But sometimes writing can be gut-wrenching, as it was at times with today's project. I wrote a second part to "Story", from the PoV of Jack's brother. Maybe at some point I'll write shorts from the PoV's of the mom and the dad, but this one got pretty tought to write at some points, and I don't feel like doing that to myself again right away. But enough dopey commentary; here's the meat:

"A Survivor's Guilt"

“Hello? Yeah, thanks. No, I’ll be okay. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. No no, I’ll pick you up. Yeah. ‘kay, see you.” That was my girlfriend. She’s been so supportive over the past few weeks. Heh, at least I got lucky once in my life. I just hope I don’t lose her too. I can only be so strong, and that might just do me in. Mom’s been shut up in her room ever since the funeral, and Dad, well, he was hardly ever around before, but now he’s never here. I think Jack was right; he’s having an affair. I mean, why else would he not be here with his wife and kid, when they need him most? But I don’t wanna talk about him, it just makes me mad.

I’ve been reading Jack’s journal again, the one I guess most of you’ve seen by now too. The preacher told me he wanted me to have it most, and everything else I gave to the Salvation Army like he wanted. “Don’t give that book away for anything,” the preacher said. Not that he had to worry about that. I’m keeping this till the day I die. It rips me apart, how calm he was about his sickness. Yeah, I realize there was nothing he could do about it, and he knew that. But still, if it was me, there’s no way I would’ve been that calm. No way. Jeez I miss him.

I know Jack didn’t name us in his journal. He was trying to protect us, the guy. Didn’t want a swarm of people coming down on us. He was always thinking like that; even when all the attention should have been on him, he kept asking how we were doing, or deflecting it in some other way. Best little brother a guy could have, and I never really knew him. We never talked about girls, or sports, or anything, really. I guess I just figured my world was more important, you know? I was in the middle of grade XII when he went into the hospital for the last time, focused on graduating, my girlfriend, college, but when he went in… It hit me like a truck. Everything became so petty, so meaningless, when I learned that I was really going to lose him… And the first time I visited, I only stayed for at most 30 seconds, and then I had to leave. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen someone like that, but I had to run to the bathroom and heave. Seeing the colostomy bag hanging from the rack, all the tubes and machines hooked up to him, it was just too much. I didn’t go back till the next day, and then it was okay. Not all right, the tubes and stuff still weirded me out, but I could stand it. We hung out, talked about all the stuff we should’ve before, and then before I knew it… he was gone.

I never knew what an awesome little brother I had till it was time for him to go. I guess I’m not alone in that, a lot of people have told me they felt the same way, but it never really hits you until it happens to you. When he first complained about being sick all the time, I just thought he was pranking mom, trying to get outta going to school. Then when the doctors said cancer… You have no idea how low I felt. I mean, I would go and bug him about being sick all the time, tell him I knew he was faking it, threaten to tell mom. Turns out I was wrong, hey? I tried to make it up to him after we found out, but I still feel like I owe him so much, you know? I got the guys on the football team to give him the jersey and helmet, snuck in so many tacos for the guy, visited every day, but I still feel like it’s not enough. He was buried in the jersey, with the helmet in his hands. They had to make some adjustments in the casket to do it, but they did. I made sure of that.

I volunteer with Children’s Charity now, and Big Brothers, trying to be the best big brother I can, because I know I sure wasn’t with Jack. I try to make it up to him by helping these other kids, being there for them like I wasn’t for him. Actually, that’s what I was on the phone with my girlfriend about. We’re taking a couple of kids to the local go-kart track tomorrow. The one kid is her Little Sister, I guess you’d call her. The other guy is a patient at the hospital, and all he ever wanted was to drive a go-kart. Go figure. Instead of going to Disneyland or something, he picks go-karts. What a guy… so much like Jack. My girlfriend actually caught me calling him that one day. I didn’t even know I’d done it. He didn’t mind, though, he knows the story. But I guess a lot of people do now. I’ve been wondering if it was such a good idea to publish Jack’s last journal entry, the Story most of you’ve read, but it’s a little late for that now. A little late; story of my life, it seems.

I just wanted to let you all know how things are on this end of things, to tell my story like Jack told his. I haven’t gone as far as he did, with the whole becoming Christian and all, mostly because I’m angry with God for taking away my little brother. But I’m slowly working through it, thanks to the support of my girlfriend and my friends. Mom’s having the roughest time of it all, though. I’m not asking for any sympathy for me. Give it to her. She really needs it. All she does now is sit in her room and weep. She tries to collect herself when visitors come, but she can only last for 15 minutes, tops, then she excuses herself and goes to her room, and leaves me to entertain them. I don’t mind taking up the slack. But she really needs some help, because God knows Dad isn’t giving any. He just goes to work, most days at 5 or 6 in the morning, and never gets back until 12 or sometimes later. Sometimes he stays away for days at a time. Mom doesn’t have any sisters, only a brother, and as much as he tries, he’s as useless as I am in comforting her. So, I don’t know, if you’re a praying type, pray for her a lot, if you’re going to pray for anyone. And thanks for listening to me. My name's Garrett.

Part XI

I am floating
lost out at sea
an ocean of emptiness
surrounding me
I feel so lost
out of control
Lord I need help
I feel so alone

I am helpless
I am weak
I am bitter
so I weep

Into your hand
I place my spirit
wounded and tired
of having to bear it
alone and so far
I haven't a clue
how to go on
apart from you.

Hmmm

My first run in with the tempermental side of Blogger. I had a good post going on about Transformers, and GI Joe, and Pinky and the Brain, and Freakazoid, but now you're just gonna have to use your imaginations. Actually, I'd be rather interested in hearing the stories you folks create with those characters. post the plot lines in the comments, or email the whole thang to junke_d@yahoo.com, and if I like it, I'll post it. If not, wallow in burning shame (just kidding, I'm not really expecting anything to come of this.)

The Answers

1st dude - Audioslave, Rage Against the Machine

2nd dude- Moist

chick- Skillet (1%er)

Random Thought

Don't know why this came into my brain, but I did, and now I wish to see people's reactions to this statement.

"Time does not pass; it is a static entity. It is mankind that passes. We are constantly in motion, moving through time on our own."

That makes me wonder, if it's true, does that mean we could one day see the end of time before it happens? Or look back to the beginning of time?

Drum question: Name the band(s) this drummer has been/is currently associated with:

Brad Wilk

Paul Wilcox

Lori Peters

Answers to follow, maybe tomorrow, maybe tonight, maybe never. We'll see.

Part X - The Eternal Struggle against a Darkening Mind

The masquerade has been broken
True faces are revealed
Dark powers are invoked in
Attempts to reconceal

The Awakening has begun
We are past the point of Redemption
There is no one smoking gun
All are to blame in some function

But the Bloodline has been tainted
The Ancient has grown weak
The sky has yet to be painted
His vengeance still to wreak

There is yet time for one last struggle
United we must remain standing
Not hidden in some dark hovel
We can defeat this, but not handily

There will be losses
There will be pain
There will be sacrifice
And death
and suffering.

But all it takes is one small ray
One spark of light
To chase the darkness from the fray
And claim victory over the night.

As long as I am living
and able to fight
I will continue my striving
to be a ray of light

Even if I am the last
The remnant of lost days
A reminder of the past
When it was the light that held sway

Making the Jump

I'm in the process of moving my stuff from MSN Spaces over here to Blogger. Hopefully Blogger cooperates. I hear it's got a history of being tempermental.

Edit Note --> I've finished moving all my stuff. Turns out at least one person will miss my seeing my writings in the Spaces. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Thanks, Kovac.

Story (12 April)

This is another oldie, I think I wrote when I was in Jr. High. My teacher said she cried when she read it. At the time I thought that was pretty sappy, but time and experience have corrected that misguided feeling. I recently found it tucked away in an old binder, and thought I'd dust it off for whoever reads this thing to see.

"I Have a Disease"

I have a disease that is slowly killing me. I don't know when I'll go, but it'll probably be sometime soon. The doctors gave me six months to live, but I know it's gonna be less that that. Don't ask me how I know, I just do.

I first found out that I had cancer when I was thirteen. It sucked. I was always in and out of hospitals, and they were always sticking needles in me, telling me that it wa the last test that they need to do. Liars.

It started giving me trouble when I was fourteen. The doctors thought that the cancer had spread. Then they did something called a biopsy (that's where they open you up and check to see if the cancer had spread) and to me that the cancer had spread to my lungs. That's when I learned that I had six months to live.

There are way too many things that I want to do before I go. DisneyWorld, Universal Studios, you know. Oh, I know it'll never happen, because we simply can't afford it. We could apply for Children's Charity, but my mom's too proud, and dad's never home. I think he's off having an affair, mostly 'cause he works in an office building, he's rarely home, and I watch lots of movies.

My brother used to treat me like crap, but now he visits a lot with his friends. His girlfriend is real nice, sometimes she brings me flowers. It's the thought that counts. I know that my brother is taking this predicament hard, and sometimes I wonder if he sleeps any more. He looks sicker than me some days.

The guys on the football squad gave me a helmet and jersey signed by all of them. That was really nice of them. I wear the jersey a lot, but I keep the helmet by my bed. I want to be buried with it.

The kids at school have brought flowers and cards too. Some of the guys even "sneak" me some good greasy food, because the hospital food tastes like puke (and I would know). "Sneak", because I think my nurse knows, but let's them do it anyway.

My cancer has hit just about everyone I know pretty hard. I have no problem, though. There's a preacher in the room next to mine, and we visit a lot. He even got me to be a Christian, and told me not to be scared of death because I'm going to heaven. Not that I was scared anyway. Heaven sounds pretty cool, and a whole lot better than this stinkin' hospital bed.

My cancer has been acting up lately. It's really painful. It feels as if my lungs are disintegrating and my blood is boiling inside of me. I was on the respirator for 13.5 hours yesterday because of that attack. It isn't going to be long now. I'm giving it two weeks. Tops.

I wish I could think of a word that describes how I feel with cancer in the blood and lungs. I can hardly breathe as I write this final paragraph. The reason I haven't mentioned any names is because I don't want my family and friends to be overwhelmed with sympathy cards and the like. But inspite of that, I will mention my name, just so you know who was talking to you here. I'm Jack. Goodbye.

Note--> this story seems to have struck a chord with some people. Let me know what you think of it, but please don't tell me if you cried. I hate knowing I caused that.

Part XI (old stuff newly dusted off) (12 April)

My emotions are running wild; fear, love (??) denial; this distance is a pittance, yet for me a great trial. How assuming I am, expressing myself without shame, when I don't even know if you feel the same. I feel so bad that I can talk so freely in a book, yet clam up like a cad when you give me but a look. But your eyes, true windows to your soul. Shining and innocent, full of joy and laughter, and pure. When you look at me your eyes dig a hole, exposing my true being, it seems, and I not quite sure if they are laughing at me, because of me, or in spite of me? Your smile, it makes me flutter, so I blink my eyelids, like a shutter, so you don't see the way I feel. But maybe you do -- and it makes you wonder....?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In my pain I find solace in you/ In my joy I turn away/ When it's dark I come crawling through/ In my happiness I run away/ Who's coming with me? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Too often you turn around/ to realize that I'm missing./ It can't be easy to know/ that I love you when it doesn't show.

Partt VIII (9 April)

I creep onto the stage/ before the crowd comes in/ readjust the microphones/ and make sure the sticks aren't slicked/ I adjust my throne/ a little back of the pedals/ give the cymbals a twirl/ man, I love the feel of that metal/ my cell phone goes off/ it's the band checking in/ they aren't here yet/ and wondering where I've been/ it's the same routine as usual/ maybe this time we'll get paid/ the guys finally get here/ and we saunter onto the stage/ it seems way too fast/ we just rip through the set/ I'm playing my heart out/ too bad it has to end/ we go backstage to talk to the manager/ he says "sorry kids, but the crowd didn't show/ and they buy the tickets/ you know how it goes"/ we pack up our gear/ I'm the last one to leave/ the guys seem in a hurry/ they're so easy to please/ they all picked up some chicks/ I tell them to go on ahead/ I'll meet up with them later/ with a sense of dread/ The next day arrives/ I go to the garage/ and there they are waiting/ "Dude, we're holding you back/ you're too good for us/ you can go somewhere on your own/ we've got a new drummer."/ I wanna impale him with a microphone./ So I say my goodbyes/ and walk away from the place/ that gave birth to a dream/ and a rabbit to chase/ the next day I hear/ they've signed with a label/ they tour in the spring/ with "The Pirate's Navel"/ they're were right/ they were holding me back/ now you'll find me on Whyte/ groovin' to jazz/ I still don't get paid/ only by applause/ which seldom comes often/ but that's okay, 'cause/ I'm happier now/ than I was with the band/ I can use my full talent/ that's the beauty of jazz/ groovin' to improv/ that's where it's at/ with Whitey and Slim/ and all the other cats.

Part VII (9 April)

As I sit here
Lamenting my fate
sirens go off
bring me out of my haze
I don't have it so bad
not as bad as I could
I can be happy
it's obvious I should
but I'm not
I don't know why
I feel all melancholy
it's not like I try
I go out with friends
we have a good time
and at the end of the night
I think I feel fine
then reality comes back
and smacks me upside the head
and sometimes I wonder
if I'd be better off dead
then I think of my parents
and what they'd think of that
and realize that, yes
that would make an impact
so I push on
through these muddled days
that can't quite figure out
if the sky's gonna be blue or grey.

Part VI (8 April)

Sitting on the balcony
sucking back wobbly-pops
wondering if we
will remember to clean up the tops
we've kinda thrown them everywhere
not really giving a dang
forgetting how to care
just letting it all hang
alarm clock goes off
try to roll outta bed
fall on the floor and cough
pick myself up slowly, face all red
stumble to the kitchen
frick, we're outta milk again
roommate comes out bitchin
I throw the jug at his head
this is the beginning of a good day.

Part V (7 April)

In a world that presses individuality, I get sideways looks because I don't shop at the GAP or Old Navy, and thus don't look like everyone else. I wear my hair slightly different than everyone else. My glasses are different as well. I get bad marks because I write differently, word thing differently, than the other students in my classes, and the prof has to actually think about my assignments. I guess they don't like that. People think I'm weird because I think. I take my time to answer a question, or make a statement. But they're problem is, I'm wasting their time by taking my time. Make sense to anyone? It doesn't to me. "Be different, because different is good." Right. We're supposed to be different by shopping at the same places, wearing the same clothes, eating the same foods, listening to the same music, reading the same books. Sorry, but I don't buy that. I don't buy into having other people think for me. I'd rather live on the outskirts of civilization than become one of the mindless sheep in the center of it. I'll write what I feel, not what I'm told. If I happen to be the only dude hanging out with a bunch of girls, don't assume that I'm with one, or that I'm gay. Maybe they're just better company than you are. I like getting both sides of the argument, even if I don't like the side I'm against. I'm weird because I listen more than I talk, and I write more than I speak. So? "Don't love in spite of differences; instead, love BECAUSE of differences." But it that might be hard for some people, because they are so in love with themselves. I have a heart for people; to some, that just makes me a freak, because I care about what happens elsewhere, outside of the city, the country, and the continent. Then there are those who join org's like Amnesty just so they can put it on their resume. I pity those people, because what if the truth comes out? Then they're revealed to be the frauds they really are. But I guess in this society, it's better to *look* like you have substance, than to actually bother *having* it. Me, I'll stick with my integrity, my honor, my morals and principles. Because they're what make me who I am. I'll continue listening more than talking, thinking more than doing, because if I don't, I'm afraid there'll be no one left who will.

this just in...(6 April)

I found this in my notes that I'm studying... don't remember writing it, but it's my writing, so I guess I did. Plunge the sword into your neck You are the cause of my nervous wreck Don't hesitate, quickly in and out let's get it done, release my doubt Bucking the system just gets you more pills Most are born to do nothing; I was born to kill. ----------------------------- I must have been having a bad day that day, cuz that's some pretty dark shaz. Anyway, onto a rant..... "No one wants to take responsibility for their actions. It's not the parents' fault the kids are outta control; they're "chemically imbalanced". If they go into a prolonged pity-party, they need lithium or Prozac or some other sh*t. There are so many chemicals to make us normal you become a freak if you aren't being medicated for SOMETHING. A world called catastrophe? not quite... more like a world called Viagra with a Ritalin moon, revolving around a Prozac sun. The world can't become catastrophe, because it's either too high, too low or too horny. Pills to get you high, but if you get too high, they give you pills to take you down. Pilss if you can't get it up and pills that make you limper that a paralytic's leg. Who needs to eat healthy to get the necessary fuel for your body anymore? Pop some caffiene pills (or drink some Bawls) and zoom away. If you miss a meal, no worries; that's what multi-vitamins are for. Take one (or two as recommended by your health specialist) and you're fine. I don't drink, don't smoke, don't take drugs (of any kind, if I can help it), I live a clean life, but I get blasted cuz I eat meat. F***'N HYPOCRITES!! Man that torches me. I swear, if one more pushy, hemp-wearing, dreadlocked girl blasts me for eating meat, I will shove an A&W grampa burger down their throat. Or a Wendy's Grand Slam. Whatever's closest. Cuz that's what they're doing to me, shoving their "Holier-than-thou, cuz I'm a vegan" crap down MY throat. I don't have a problem with vegans in particular; its just certain ones who need to SHUT THE EFF UP AND GET OUTTA MY FACE that I have a problem with. I don't force you to do anything; stop trying to force me. Please.

Part IV (3 April)

I did something today
I don't normally do
I don't know why
I don't know why

It might have been hurtful
It might have been mean
It might have been spiteful
It might not have been

Something I meant
Something I wished
Something I dreamed of
Something I...

I'm not really like that
I'm not really that sad
I'm not really uncaring
I'm really not bad

Forgiveness I need
Forgiveness I seek
Forgiveness I wish for
Forgiveness, I plead

----------------------------------------------------------------

I am not strong
I am not solid
I am not perfect
I am merely human
Envy can consume
Greed can overtake
Pride can override
Flaws abound

Look past the man
Look past the smile
Look past the mind
Look past the limp
Look past the laughter
Look past the eyes
Look past the cracks
Look past me
and see who I am.

Part III, with explanation (1 April)

'kay, I swear this one's the last one for tonite, cuz I'm starting to wear out now Cliche You think it's cheesy, I know, but is it?/ These feelings are corny you say, but are they?/ They're real, they're mine/ I feel this time/ it could really happen./ I don't wanna mess this up/ I'm flying high as a mountain top/ To ruin this would bring me down/ all the way to the ground/ And I'm not sure I can handle that./ Come, fly with me/ spread your wings/ take this chance/ this could last/ This is real.... But is it? ---------------------- Yeah, I actually titled this one, cuz I'll admit, I always made fun of guys and gals who got all googely-moogely over each other. Then, one day (actually this past Tuesday) it hit me, and I understood. That doesn't mean I can explain it, I just know now what I didn't know before. I added the "But is it?" line at the end to show the insecurity of infatuation, lust, love, crushes (whatever emotion you want to call it). The title's there cuz I started it as a sappy love-poem, and it really started to sound like a cliche. Then the last stanza I think I may have stolen from a song or two (mash-up, maybe?) but it sounds good... but I had to add that little "Ryan-ism", just cuz I feel wierd when I write all mushy. Wow, I'm starting to feel like Strindberg, writing his Prologue to "Miss Julie"... "I wrote it this way, not that way, and it sounds like this, not like that..." [if anyone actually reads this stuff and knows what I'm talking about, lemme know, otherwise I'm gonna get slammed by the folks back home for being such an arts-geek]

Part II (1 April)

Today is the gift
upon which to focus.
Tomorrow's a promise
with which one holds us.
Yesterday's dead
it's time to release.
Dwelling on it
is like a disease.
It'll slowly kill you.

---------------------------------------

Hidden dreams revealed
in time's light
Give our hearts and hopes
faith to take flight.
Don't let go, the distance
is indeterminate.
The fall from these heights
could bring a man to hate
all he ever strived for and achieved
and lose faith and all he ever believed.

---------------------------------------

Sleep my child
and in the while
dreams crawl through
take hold of you
accept their embrace
don't turn your face
live those dreams
because reality seems
too hard at times
for our kind.

finding my muse, Part I (1 April)

So here's how this works: I zone out during class a lot [understatement], so I manage to think up a bunch of junk that I end up writing down. Someone read it over my shoulder [how I !!!hate!!! that] and said it was pretty good, and I should submit it somewhere. Okay then, I'll submit it to the vast expanse of the Blue Nowhere, and hopefully someone will see it, read it, and pass the word. Oh yeah, before I start: listen to the album "Damnation" by Opeth. It's sublime. Okay here we gooooo..... Short and sweet to start with: A glass or a rose? Which to give? Which will be taken? Which will be seen? The now or the future (whatever it may be)?