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