An excavation of the personal computer...
Which has turned up some amazing old poetry...
~Desolate (circa 2001)
I'm being pulled in so many unwanted directions,
I'm too loveable it seems. They all are clamoring for my attentions.
I can never love like that again, no matter what they say.
I am thinking I have the beginning signs of it for someone,
But I love him enough to keep out of his way.
I love him, yes, as I do everyone, perhaps a bit more.
He knows. I wish at times there were no such thing as love.
Then there were the times it sang through my veins,
Rich and powerfully there, it flowed in me like blood.
"Life is like that; everyone loved the wrong person,
Who loved someone else, or didn't love at all." --Peyton
It's all a mixed rush. It's all so not worth it. Yet it is.
It's unreal, it's inexplicable. I love, yet I know there will
Be no return of that hopeless emotion from him to me.
I love him anyway. Then there are those that love me,
But I cannot love them. There will be no way.
Maybe in a few years, but not now.
I loved him who sang the orange on the canvas,
Which he said was me, and now I love this
Boy, who doesn't care.
I wish love didn't exist.
Yet I love love. It's an addictive thing, like fine wine,
Sweeter and sweeter with time.
A strain that eats me alive. I wish it wouldn't.
I wish it would, he would,
love me.
~Da (circa 2003)
Da's friend is gone.
POOF! Like smoke.
Life hangs so unbalanced.
Da's going to a funeral.
Da's drunk coffee in
The mornings
With a man I never knew.
I wish I knew him
I wish Da was younger
Because all of his
Friends are so
Unpredictable
One by one they
Slip by his mind,
He's wondering
When his time
Is going to come.
My Da, who is not my Da
At all, but was more
Of a father than the
First. My Da.
~Shadowed Soul (circa 2003)
A stamp of loss shall mark her soul,
For swift as winter upon all
No warmth of love shall shadow soul
Of lover's words she desires hold
As soft as breath of spring she's told
She feels as lost as ewe from fold
In this, her heart shall fail her air
To deep and without love despair
She falls untenderly fore'er.
~Angel's Rain (circa 2001)
The angel's rain is pounding in my ears.
I'm trying not to listen. I'm temporarily deaf.
My eyes are on the floor looking up at me.
I can't see them seeing me.
I must be pulled.
They trees whisper with their friend wind
I'm listening to them gossip.
The wind picks up to a tempest,
And the branches roar with a ferocity,
Incapable to trees.
My hands are fearfully made,
Tendons, ligaments, blood vessels.
The elements of fleshly life.
Muscles. They've been gifted with a mind of their own.
Lucky me.
I look at the brown, broken, trampled grass.
It is slowly getting green again. I will soon trim it down.
Such a beautiful sun. Beautiful sun. Shining.
Through the mountains to my right.
In my mind I'm traveling up.
You are there, my friend. You are there.
You are the necessity of my life.
I thrive on the kind words, the nutrient of normal life.
So many feeds flow toward, by, around, above, below me.
A few turn to me.
Flowers of midnight, lift your heads.
Drink in the necessity of life. Rain. The angel's rain.
Check, check, check, check mate.
Your life streams by, downloading, beamed.
To the sunset of dawn.
No sense in levitating myself to the top
I've been there, seen the view, hungered.
There is a thirst in me for the opportunity
To act with the fiercness of sincerity.
Pure abstractness is the key.
These words flow down as easily,
As if they had been recorded in my soul
Before I was even a thought in someone's mind.
Pre-recorded poetry, slapped down.
Is it true?
Hum silently, no one hears.
Except the trees, which will gossip
About you, me, them, we, it, she, you, they.
I'm getting better at pulling out the words.
So much. I'm no Shakespeare, though.
~Icy Song (circa 2004)
I emerge from the warmth of shelter
Out into the winterland
Stark winds blowing fiercly uphill
I feel my blood run numb cold
Every breath I take is sharp and sweet
A knife to my throat and lungs
Causing pain and soothing
The chaos abounding in my heart
I climb into her, tall and strong
Her rough bark catches the skin
Of my face. Blood feels frozen to my
Skin. In her great boughs, I sing.
I sing to myself, to her, to the wind.
Anyone who will take it to heart
The chaoticness of these times.
My song drowns in the wind,
For it is more admandant than I.
~Sunset Moth (2003)
Something so simply beautiful,
Smeared on scorching pavement.
Sunset moth, what is your story?
Powdered wings speak of scales,
Which brought you here to me.
Sunset moth, why did you come?
So fast, flying straight at you,
Your saddening death came.
Sunset moth, was I worth it?
~Lack of Comradery (2002)
First comes the glimmer
The gleam of first light
The awakening of the world
I'm slowly waking from
Troubled sleep
I wish I were elsewhere
Anywhere but here!
Where is the rescue from
The land of no imagination?
I live in a world of censored
And limited artistry.
I can't be free!
I want the wings to break
From my back, so that I can fly
Away, away from here.
Pent up and caged,
I'm kept from my true ability
I can't further myself in this condition!
This is no golden cage
More like rusted iron.
I'm tired of the gawking.
I have no comrades.
None. All I have are the young
Ones who gaze at me.
I have no mentor.
I am alone and a spectacle.
Something to be stared at.
I've got my paper and pencil
And they watch me create,
But they don't understand
The finished product.
Call it something it's not.
I feel underappreciated.
I've got no inspiration,
I've got no outfitted company.
There is no one left who is like me.
===
All comments are appreciated.
~Desolate (circa 2001)
I'm being pulled in so many unwanted directions,
I'm too loveable it seems. They all are clamoring for my attentions.
I can never love like that again, no matter what they say.
I am thinking I have the beginning signs of it for someone,
But I love him enough to keep out of his way.
I love him, yes, as I do everyone, perhaps a bit more.
He knows. I wish at times there were no such thing as love.
Then there were the times it sang through my veins,
Rich and powerfully there, it flowed in me like blood.
"Life is like that; everyone loved the wrong person,
Who loved someone else, or didn't love at all." --Peyton
It's all a mixed rush. It's all so not worth it. Yet it is.
It's unreal, it's inexplicable. I love, yet I know there will
Be no return of that hopeless emotion from him to me.
I love him anyway. Then there are those that love me,
But I cannot love them. There will be no way.
Maybe in a few years, but not now.
I loved him who sang the orange on the canvas,
Which he said was me, and now I love this
Boy, who doesn't care.
I wish love didn't exist.
Yet I love love. It's an addictive thing, like fine wine,
Sweeter and sweeter with time.
A strain that eats me alive. I wish it wouldn't.
I wish it would, he would,
love me.
~Da (circa 2003)
Da's friend is gone.
POOF! Like smoke.
Life hangs so unbalanced.
Da's going to a funeral.
Da's drunk coffee in
The mornings
With a man I never knew.
I wish I knew him
I wish Da was younger
Because all of his
Friends are so
Unpredictable
One by one they
Slip by his mind,
He's wondering
When his time
Is going to come.
My Da, who is not my Da
At all, but was more
Of a father than the
First. My Da.
~Shadowed Soul (circa 2003)
A stamp of loss shall mark her soul,
For swift as winter upon all
No warmth of love shall shadow soul
Of lover's words she desires hold
As soft as breath of spring she's told
She feels as lost as ewe from fold
In this, her heart shall fail her air
To deep and without love despair
She falls untenderly fore'er.
~Angel's Rain (circa 2001)
The angel's rain is pounding in my ears.
I'm trying not to listen. I'm temporarily deaf.
My eyes are on the floor looking up at me.
I can't see them seeing me.
I must be pulled.
They trees whisper with their friend wind
I'm listening to them gossip.
The wind picks up to a tempest,
And the branches roar with a ferocity,
Incapable to trees.
My hands are fearfully made,
Tendons, ligaments, blood vessels.
The elements of fleshly life.
Muscles. They've been gifted with a mind of their own.
Lucky me.
I look at the brown, broken, trampled grass.
It is slowly getting green again. I will soon trim it down.
Such a beautiful sun. Beautiful sun. Shining.
Through the mountains to my right.
In my mind I'm traveling up.
You are there, my friend. You are there.
You are the necessity of my life.
I thrive on the kind words, the nutrient of normal life.
So many feeds flow toward, by, around, above, below me.
A few turn to me.
Flowers of midnight, lift your heads.
Drink in the necessity of life. Rain. The angel's rain.
Check, check, check, check mate.
Your life streams by, downloading, beamed.
To the sunset of dawn.
No sense in levitating myself to the top
I've been there, seen the view, hungered.
There is a thirst in me for the opportunity
To act with the fiercness of sincerity.
Pure abstractness is the key.
These words flow down as easily,
As if they had been recorded in my soul
Before I was even a thought in someone's mind.
Pre-recorded poetry, slapped down.
Is it true?
Hum silently, no one hears.
Except the trees, which will gossip
About you, me, them, we, it, she, you, they.
I'm getting better at pulling out the words.
So much. I'm no Shakespeare, though.
~Icy Song (circa 2004)
I emerge from the warmth of shelter
Out into the winterland
Stark winds blowing fiercly uphill
I feel my blood run numb cold
Every breath I take is sharp and sweet
A knife to my throat and lungs
Causing pain and soothing
The chaos abounding in my heart
I climb into her, tall and strong
Her rough bark catches the skin
Of my face. Blood feels frozen to my
Skin. In her great boughs, I sing.
I sing to myself, to her, to the wind.
Anyone who will take it to heart
The chaoticness of these times.
My song drowns in the wind,
For it is more admandant than I.
~Sunset Moth (2003)
Something so simply beautiful,
Smeared on scorching pavement.
Sunset moth, what is your story?
Powdered wings speak of scales,
Which brought you here to me.
Sunset moth, why did you come?
So fast, flying straight at you,
Your saddening death came.
Sunset moth, was I worth it?
~Lack of Comradery (2002)
First comes the glimmer
The gleam of first light
The awakening of the world
I'm slowly waking from
Troubled sleep
I wish I were elsewhere
Anywhere but here!
Where is the rescue from
The land of no imagination?
I live in a world of censored
And limited artistry.
I can't be free!
I want the wings to break
From my back, so that I can fly
Away, away from here.
Pent up and caged,
I'm kept from my true ability
I can't further myself in this condition!
This is no golden cage
More like rusted iron.
I'm tired of the gawking.
I have no comrades.
None. All I have are the young
Ones who gaze at me.
I have no mentor.
I am alone and a spectacle.
Something to be stared at.
I've got my paper and pencil
And they watch me create,
But they don't understand
The finished product.
Call it something it's not.
I feel underappreciated.
I've got no inspiration,
I've got no outfitted company.
There is no one left who is like me.
===
All comments are appreciated.