Thursday, November 27, 2008
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
the hollow-eyed soldiers are clad in iron and silk
their minds clutching onto the last vestiges of hope
such sorrowful hope
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
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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
the poet at the window
does not see
his words spun from dusty air
thick with the scent of literature
of what he could have read
and carries more meaning than a lifetime
The newspaper in town publishes his work
out of pity
(and lack of truth)
on the presses that publish
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
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
Johannes de Silentio
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
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
( twisted reality so very
a nirvana of
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
( cypress skies; the lands of bounty
twirling swirling chaos
it went like this:
she saw the light
but the heron cared
not for it
distraught and confused
and prayed for the end of times
the burning cities
lit up the horizon
it was beautiful. )
Monday, August 25, 2008
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
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
And the people fall to the ground
Smashing their skulls on the pavement.
The baby of the neon, distended womb
Folds in on itself
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.
Run screaming into the chaos.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
This ticks me off.
----- rant on capitalism + distasteful profanity -------
cracked with graffiti
of peaceful protest
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
by light of fires, burning old shoes-San
Saturday, July 26, 2008
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!