PhantasmThat light evening in June is burned into my brain despite age riddling my memory with holes. Every detail is like dust highlighted by the light from an open window. Light, floating, surreal and perfect. It feels as if everything I’ve done in my life was all to lead towards an extraordinary trip to the cinemas. - A spark of irritation flashed through me at the small throng of people that left before the lights went up. Why do they do that? How could they possibly have organised their belongings with no light? It’s as if they sat there on the edge of their seats waiting for the credits to roll so they could raPhantasm
Writers BlockCursed constipation of the brain, Why must you cause such pain? All I wish to do is write, Won't someone hear my plight? You are quite tearing me apart, Oh won't you please depart?Writers Block
A Dark Figure and a Dark NightA dark figure cuts through the mist of a cold deserted cemetery one moonless night. She seems to slice through the fog as her hooded cloak is so dark, contrasting to the pale fog. Being unable to see her footsteps she appears to be gliding, that you can hear her muffled footsteps is of very little assurance to your imaginings. She holds such an ethereal presence about herself and you shiver as it passes over you and catches every sense you own. Everything about her is suddenly sharper. The contrast of her clothing and the snow blanketed world around her suddenly seems stark and harsh, the rustle of her clothing in the still air isA Dark Figure and a Dark Night
Heart's HonestyWhen a honest heart breaksHeart's Honesty
Reality gets checked to all When a honest heart breaks Emotionally there's a wrong call When a honest heart breaks
The strong failing to stand tall When a honest heart breaks Victory taken when they should fall When a honest heart breaks
The Fox and the Moonthe fox plays his flute on a bench beneath a willowThe Fox and the Moon
while the moon she smiles for miles and miles –
she's been away a couple days but still he plays –
sweet tunes lacing melodies in darkness
for the babes, ducks floating on ponds he peers over the fawns
the speckled backs his tune carries on –
as he awaits dreaded dawn his lover's face sinking
with his heart blessed her sullen smirk dissipating –
song of the lark &
Her PoemI wanted to write a poem to this chick I met dancing in the dark to this band I'd never heard ofHer Poem
I knew her about a week knew she had a lesson we went to San Francisco and every moment was perfect then I got drunk and acted a fool
I said a lot of I love yous I don't remember how many or all the other words I said (though I know I talked a lot about her cats) before
she walked along the beach alone hoping a mermaid would swim her away as I tried to swim in the hotel pool and nearly drown
I wanted to writ
Everything in Space Looks Like a Penis...
Triumph
--
Looked into deaths eyes & laughed, Then asked:
And wheres my Hug?
--
I'm stubborn and wrong but at least I know it.
--
Looked into deaths eyes & laughed, Then asked:
And wheres my Hug?
--
I'm stubborn and wrong but at least I know it.
--
Looked into deaths eyes & laughed, Then asked:
And wheres my Hug?
Keep up the good work!
I will try to. Let me tell you this... writer's block is a real bitch.
--
I'm stubborn and wrong but at least I know it.
--
Come to the edge, he said,
They said: We are afraid
Come to the edge, he said.
They came,
He pushed them,
...and they flew.
Guillaume Apollinaire
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