Thursday, November 27, 2008

Review: In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

So, I spontaneously decided to write a review for my favorite album, Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. It's part of a series of reviews called Ten Albums That Changed My Life. It occupies the number one spot on the list. Here it is:

Unsurprisingly, at least in my mind, the number one album on this list was not very hard to choose. In fact, I knew from the second I began this list which album deserved the number one spot. There has only been one album which has truly, completely, changed everything for me, yet has always been ready to comfort me in my times of need. Only this one album has had a certain power over me, that has been completely rewarding with each listen. Nothing else has been so real yet so mystifying at once. The album I am talking about is In The Aeroplane Over The Sea, by Neutral Milk Hotel.

This album has always been there for me throughout my teenage years. Whether in love, in tears, in hope or despair, Aeroplane has always been present to comfort me and keep me going. I shared this album with my first girlfriend, both of us madly in love with each other, content in each other's arms. And I listened to it, sobbing, on the day that she told me that she didn't love me anymore. This record has been a rock for me, something solid to stand on while the tempest of life rages around. For me, In the Aeroplane Over The Sea is more than an album, more than music. It's something that I needed during my darkest days, and it's something I'll always need. It's love and hope, joy and innocence. But it's also anxiety and fear, frustration and rejection, heartbreak and loss. It's loving a ghost, something that cannot be held or attained. Yet ultimately, there's a sense of resignation, of finality. You're exhausted and spent, but you have come to terms with the tragedy of your loss. You can move on, finally at peace with the phantom called love, because you know that it is eternal. It is all this, and more. This is art in it's purest form, beauty and emotion wrapped up in a glorious tapestry of vibrant life.

No album will ever take Aeroplane's place as the greatest album I have ever listened to, simply because no other album will be able to carry me through the worst times of my life. I will always treasure this album, and I will always love it each and every time I listen to it.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Poem: Illumination

Sorry for not posting in over a month. Here's a poem. It's not the best I've ever written, but it's something.


the hollow-eyed soldiers are clad in iron and silk
their minds clutching onto the last vestiges of hope
such sorrowful hope
quickly now
it is vanishing fast, like a ghost
or a dream upon awakening
lost to the dark recesses of the mind
dead before its time.
before it can be held.
but there is a beauty in this formless monstrosity
the vibrancy of it simply cannot be seen or heard, only felt
joyous noise and din separating truth from angst
falling into endless nothing,
i see that there is a darkness in all men.

-johannes de silentio

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Poem: The Eternal Dream

the eternal dream

we plunged through the murky depths of the world
laughing our way through the hordes of blank faces
and empty seats on the subway.
flying through the milky way
in the hopes of reaching a different planet
fast in the pursuit of the eternal dream.
we let the demons run amok
indulging in their most horrible fantasies,
but we didn't care
their rage was absurd,
and empty
she led me through the dark corridors of my mind
the barest psych images slamming into me
stripping my soul naked.
desperately clutching on to my only salvation
i heard the preacher
his mouth was full of blood and fire
and he spoke words of terror.
for a moment i was frightened of this madman
but when i gazed into her infinite deep eyes, angelic,
i knew how pitiful he was
so i opened my third eye
and severed my chains
i am now truly free
and we journey on
through the valley of the kings,
we ride on the white-feathered wings of eternity.
climbing the spires of ten-thousand frantic suicides
i look below
and see the damned
clawing at my feet
screaming obscenities
i whispered no,
and they scurried back to their dark, forgotten halls,
shivering wretchedly in the cold.
there is no hope for these souls.
the soldier lays dying on the field of dust.
i saw him there, crying for his lost love.
but the black tears on his face,
they are from laughter.
for he has realized that the most precious thing about life
is that sometime, it must end.
although i'd like to stay for a bit,
and give honors to the dead
we must travel on...

Well, I think that this one turned out pretty well. I'm quite proud of it. It's not exactly finished yet, either. But leave a comment if you like it or dislike it, as long as you tell me why. I'd appreciate that.

-Johannes de Silentio

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Welcome to the rabbit hole, may I take your order?


The great love lies twixt the great branches here for evermore. 
Of and for sadness, I cannot clear my mind,
for on these forsaken plains a scarecrow humbled, stands amongst the elements
moon in full, harvest moon above him
for words are pebbles, for they serve the same purpose, but each is different and until held, turned over and inspected, are indistinguishable 
over the pebbles flows the stream of prose and poetry, reaching from the tributaries of thought to the great sea of knowledge. 
the tree, the great love embraces the shore and catches the word-pebbles, diverting the stream of thought, train of consciousness, until the raven flies
so the crow flies and the jester claims a court case against injustice. Injustice then rallies the people into a court tribunal. The proceeds go to charity. For thought is wise, he serves as the judge and presides over all, material and immaterial. 
the tree creates too, drawing from the word pebbles, their meaning, their essence is drawn though the truck to make the leaves of abstraction 
As poverty and the great masses of starving Africa against collective deception, eating instead the tomes of thought within the Balboa tree. 
Each leaf is part of a pattern, a combination of thought
For time is almost gone and when the cares break the fortress wall against self referendum, chaos results. 

It's not for me to care what people think of this. It represented my state-of-mind at the time of writing, and that is all I could ever have hoped for. If you do, fine, I'm ecstatic. I'm feeling kinda wiped right now, schoolwork piling up. Don't expect any more entries today, I'm DRAINED. 

Bob Dylan was the master of this style. 

I have to write a Philosophy paper tonight, so wish me luck! 

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Lets try allegory, shall we

the poet at the window

does not see

only writes
his words spun from dusty air
thick with the scent of literature
on shelves
a taste
of what he could have read
he coughs

and carries more meaning than a lifetime

of scratching

with his no.2 on archival paper
The newspaper in town publishes his work
out of pity
(and lack of truth)
manufacturing illusion
on the presses that publish
The Informer

the child
that took the paper from under-neath the coffee mug this morning
reads with quiet awe
underneath the covers
his child's mind

assigning worlds to empty words


For a Muse....

Guilt can be motivational. In fact it can be a life changing, Oh-God-what-was-I-thinking-I'm-such-a-hack sort of thing. So for all of you, this is a prime example of a paradigm shift. Please consider the following.

I sincerely apologize for my absence from this blog, and for negligence to a good friend.

In my own right I was insanely busy, but I now have succeeded in securing a therapist. What this means to the therapist is of neither your nor my concern.

Where my friend has been experiencing a sudden, unexpected bout of happiness (really I think I've lost him for good), I have plenty of fresh (though stewing) depression for you all to feed on, readers.

Johannes was dead-on with the perfectionist issue. I have it bad. Comments (read: compliments) about my work will secure a steady flow of literary materials until I reach such said point of self satisfaction, and end up all happy-optimistic like my friend here.

Call me San, and I'll be your host this evening.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Computer Death...

Unfortunately for you and me both, my computer has decided to die on me. This means that my archive of poetry has been lost, maybe permanently. Now, you can see how this would have a negative impact on me, but how does this affect you? Well, I was planning on going on a posting spree, maybe with one post every other day, possibly every day. That plan has now been abandoned, so all of you out there who enjoy my poetry may not get your fix. And I do apologize for not updating in almost a month. I place most of the blame on my co-blogger, San, who, despite my best efforts, refuses to post anything less than what he believes is "perfect", which is a shame for all of you, because he produces quite good stuff. Still, some of the blame belongs to myself, as I have been lax in my duty, which is to bring you beautiful, mostly ludicrous, poetry. Recently, I've been afflicted with an incurable case of happiness, which is not favorable to poetry-making. But I think that I'm learning to work under the influence of happiness, so you may see more of me yet.
Signing off,
Johannes de Silentio

Poem: Fever Dream Vision

To my beloved, my light and hope:

fever dream vision

it was as she said. completely unexpected, almost appearing out the thin air. just hold on, she whispered, we're far from the end of the line. and i, i have never heard truer words. those simple words stay with me, and i see the monstrous eternal hourglass in front of me, looming there as it always has been. and it terrifies me. i feel that i have never been weaker in my life. it overwhelms me, like a fever dream vision. but in the midst of all my fear, anger, despair, i realize it. i see that this is where it is. it's not in their long but empty wanderings, nor in their silent meditations. it's right here. and i have it.

-Johannes de Silentio

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Poem: Emerges Athena

This one's pretty short, but a friend told me to post it as-is. Enjoy.

Emerges Athena

From the eternal womb, bleeding and wretched,
Emerges Athena, in all her wounded, resplendent glory.
Irreversibly flawed, yet whole and complete all the same.

Let us go!
Go far away where their sharp knives cannot touch us.
For we are bare and indefensible,
Against the might of those on the mountain.

-Johannes de Silentio

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Poem: Brain Blaze

Brain Blaze

( twisted reality so very
a nirvana of
all senses
brain blaze brilliant
then die final death
praise praise the sun and moon and stars and sea
for they are the beloved of our mother
love & again they approach the altar
for there is no love at all except hatred
lovely people all around
they are contorted
& their image disturbed
i can feel it
i can feel everything )

- Johannes De Silentio

Poem: The Heron

Here's a dark one for you.

The Heron

( cypress skies; the lands of bounty
twirling swirling chaos
it went like this:
she saw the light
but the heron cared
not for it
he simply
distraught and confused
lunar people
knelt down
and prayed for the end of times
the burning cities
lit up the horizon
it was beautiful. )

Monday, August 25, 2008

Poems, Continued

Bah, here's another poem:

Twilight Machinery

She was a dynamo,
A cog in the twilight machinery.
Deafening silence follows.
Dawn comes, with Hope, and Light.
But it is so damn far away.
Reach out for it, smell it, taste it, feel it.
All senses are dead and blazing brilliantly.
A quiet heartbreak, not felt.
Gentle, like a mother-caress.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Poems of a Hopeless Mind

Dammit I was going to post this long and detailed account of what I did over the past three weeks, then I realized that no one but lame people would read that. So I'll just post a poem or two. Enjoy.


I hear the vibrations
The echoing screams of justice
Tearing at my ears.

I hear the thunder
The screeching sound of a tire
As it comes to a stop, revolted.

Can you not listen to yourself?
It's all the same
Mindless babble, the history of lovers.
Came at me with a razor blade, defected.

Merciless she-wolf, naked she comes.
Ripping through flesh and bone with steel teeth.
I'll keep stealing as I kept coming.

She soars, unblinking.
By your side, all time.
Why must I be so disappointed?

Eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
Unblinking eyes look back at me, blackest.
God it is lonely and cold deep in this ground.


Socrates' hemlock vines
Winding 'round columns of dying souls
A thousand men hang from nooses.

Under the knife
Zion speaks
And the people fall to the ground
Smashing their skulls on the pavement.

The baby of the neon, distended womb
Folds in on itself
Disappearing, disbelieving.

The poets tremble
Underneath the gaze
Of the All-Seeing Eye.

The horizon blazed afire
Great Helios falling beneath Earth Mother's gaze
dying with a smile on his lips.


Useless blood drips into the abyss far below
Feeding the Anu Machine.

Rejoice in the haze.
Blackened children
Run screaming into the chaos.


Sunday, July 27, 2008

of contact lenses and existentialism

This ticks me off.

----- rant on capitalism + distasteful profanity -------

the forms

cast life


lifetime guaranteed


cracked with graffiti

of peaceful protest

never break

nor give, but


fetus, purple with lack of air

gasping, forced into vice grips

of common practice

bones crack but not break

blood, oils the machine

then wrapped, pulled tight

left to heal

on cold streets

visited by vagabonds and bums

drinking liquor

by light of fires, burning old shoes



And so another joins this growing merry band. Name's San. I'm the philosopher sailor. The world confuses me. Manic insanity, you see? So... Instead of arson, I write.
Onwards and upwards,

Saturday, July 26, 2008


MY blog, in fact. I am now an internet person, I guess. Whether or not this a good thing, I do not know. I am very concerned about this. Perhaps I should consult a doctor.

Well, first off, I should introduce myself. I suppose I am a poet-writer-photographer-guy, who just lives as life would have it. I feel that this is a good thing. Please contact me if you have an issue with this. You readers should know, I started this blog without knowing exactly what I'm going to do with it. Expect a little bit of everything.

Well, I think that sums it all up. Happy reading, folks!