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don't know if I posted this before but here we go.
There are no bounds we see
Until our limits are met, we'll be unable to excell.
Quite a radical change, this pen-to-paper.
And we might not just give up.
It's so dark out, with crazy-swirling stars.
Dive into these black waters
stained with maroon-colored Crimson.
Blindly falling as the water changes
No longer is it thick and heavy water
But free and chaotic air.
In these breezes of despair,
Lights of solitude blind us
Because of this, our savior is gone.
There are no bounds we see
Until our limits are met, we'll be unable to excell.
Quite a radical change, this pen-to-paper.
And we might not just give up.
It's so dark out, with crazy-swirling stars.
Dive into these black waters
stained with maroon-colored Crimson.
Blindly falling as the water changes
No longer is it thick and heavy water
But free and chaotic air.
In these breezes of despair,
Lights of solitude blind us
Because of this, our savior is gone.
[poetry] three old poems
Mar. 1st, 2013 10:40 pm２０１１年１１月２５日
Cage was opened. Door was lifted. Legs burst into powerful strides.
He came to the edge, a cliff overlooking an ocean.
Planes came toward the shore. Cage stared up at them, the feeling of freedom fleeing.
But with the life left inside of him, he did not shake. He did not fear.
----------
２０１１年１１月２７日
Turn the colorless world into something beautiful.
Into something wonderful.
Colorful.
Make it mean something to so many.
Make it pretty.
Make it gorgeous.
Desire it.
Take the many shades of gray and black and white,
And turn it into something lovable.
Desire it all.
Make it into everything.
Take the fictitious world,
And turn it into living art.
----------
only we can change our future, for it is us who are unstoppable.
please lend us your power and hold us tight in your clasp until we return it.
not only are we greatful for your elegance that you freely share, but faithful.
we end where we begin, and hope we can do the best in our lives.
please see we mean no harm in your own self.
selfish fish should never fly like graceful flies or sightless doves.
send us your own creation to forgive us for all our sins.
purge us of our mistakes and make us anew.
it's our electric corridor for only us to tresspass.
keep secret and hold secrets dearly to our bodies.
the smell of truth and lies mix until they are unable to differ.
the lines of fiction and reality combine and blur.
can we not save ourselves?
Cage was opened. Door was lifted. Legs burst into powerful strides.
Sound was nothing. Vision was nothing.
The feeling was freedom.
He ran down the empty road in a city already evacuated.He came to the edge, a cliff overlooking an ocean.
Planes came toward the shore. Cage stared up at them, the feeling of freedom fleeing.
But with the life left inside of him, he did not shake. He did not fear.
Cage accepted death.
For he was brought up to die.
２０１１年１１月２７日
Turn the colorless world into something beautiful.
Into something wonderful.
Colorful.
Make it mean something to so many.
Make it pretty.
Make it gorgeous.
Desire it.
Take the many shades of gray and black and white,
And turn it into something lovable.
Desire it all.
Make it into everything.
Take the fictitious world,
And turn it into living art.
only we can change our future, for it is us who are unstoppable.
please lend us your power and hold us tight in your clasp until we return it.
not only are we greatful for your elegance that you freely share, but faithful.
we end where we begin, and hope we can do the best in our lives.
please see we mean no harm in your own self.
selfish fish should never fly like graceful flies or sightless doves.
send us your own creation to forgive us for all our sins.
purge us of our mistakes and make us anew.
it's our electric corridor for only us to tresspass.
keep secret and hold secrets dearly to our bodies.
the smell of truth and lies mix until they are unable to differ.
the lines of fiction and reality combine and blur.
can we not save ourselves?
[poem] rolling starride
Aug. 10th, 2011 05:21 amto cry in a ditch and forget about everything
the linear ride does not stop, it goes faster
and at the breaking point speed,
everything shatters into a thousand, million pieces.
this is the heart at its very epicenter,
like fire to a liquid, set aflame, the water is boiling.
to a cooling point, we shudder in the breathtaking speed
everything eases into a quiet, easy stop.
but the ride hasn't ended, nothing is over
everything repeats and you are more tired than before,
your memory is foggy and the present is intimidating
more intimidating than the past or the future
because what happens now decides everything
the present becomes everything.
it becomes your future, and in this way
it becomes your past.
the present is everything,
and the intimidating rises in the hot, fiery pit of your gut.
there are no more warm, fuzzy feelings,
or easy-to-see felons,
or people lying down at your feet.
there is just what is, and nothing changes that.
perhaps the ease of the slope has changed you, though.
perhaps you have become harder on the outside,
but your inside will remain the same.
you become an egg, with its brittle shell,
sitting in a carton of others like you,
waiting to be broken and eaten.
to be devoured like the food you are,
to be devoured by a ferocious demon,
a demon inside of you? outside of you?
can you not tell, anymore?
has everything gone awry,
your plans not made go into chaos.
islands in your mind feed on the deep blue oceans,
the very liquid of your subconscious drips
into crisp, white, snow.
powdery and fickle, never staying-ever changing.
it is the solid, the liquid, and the air.
it surrounds you, this breath of another.
you are the mirror, of another.
was there ever an original to start with?
your star changed and danced so many times
with benign signals who have fled into nonexistence,
their own private solitude a solace as well as a jail.
corporate magic flees the scene of a death,
doing its best to not make sense in the face
of the almighty master of miracle dropping.
yet nothing can overcome this Master,
it is the Truth itself, which can not be tricked.
everything dissolves and once again you are alone,
perhaps in a ditch. cold and hopeless,
and without memories of what just took place.
there is nothing left for you,
so you apathetically walk back home.
the linear ride does not stop, it goes faster
and at the breaking point speed,
everything shatters into a thousand, million pieces.
this is the heart at its very epicenter,
like fire to a liquid, set aflame, the water is boiling.
to a cooling point, we shudder in the breathtaking speed
everything eases into a quiet, easy stop.
but the ride hasn't ended, nothing is over
everything repeats and you are more tired than before,
your memory is foggy and the present is intimidating
more intimidating than the past or the future
because what happens now decides everything
the present becomes everything.
it becomes your future, and in this way
it becomes your past.
the present is everything,
and the intimidating rises in the hot, fiery pit of your gut.
there are no more warm, fuzzy feelings,
or easy-to-see felons,
or people lying down at your feet.
there is just what is, and nothing changes that.
perhaps the ease of the slope has changed you, though.
perhaps you have become harder on the outside,
but your inside will remain the same.
you become an egg, with its brittle shell,
sitting in a carton of others like you,
waiting to be broken and eaten.
to be devoured like the food you are,
to be devoured by a ferocious demon,
a demon inside of you? outside of you?
can you not tell, anymore?
has everything gone awry,
your plans not made go into chaos.
islands in your mind feed on the deep blue oceans,
the very liquid of your subconscious drips
into crisp, white, snow.
powdery and fickle, never staying-ever changing.
it is the solid, the liquid, and the air.
it surrounds you, this breath of another.
you are the mirror, of another.
was there ever an original to start with?
your star changed and danced so many times
with benign signals who have fled into nonexistence,
their own private solitude a solace as well as a jail.
corporate magic flees the scene of a death,
doing its best to not make sense in the face
of the almighty master of miracle dropping.
yet nothing can overcome this Master,
it is the Truth itself, which can not be tricked.
everything dissolves and once again you are alone,
perhaps in a ditch. cold and hopeless,
and without memories of what just took place.
there is nothing left for you,
so you apathetically walk back home.
