There thrice was a girl, for she needed me only thrice, who'se life was rife with burdenous strife. In the daytime she smiled and seemed so alive, but the night hours revealed the wrinkles in her eyes. And she lied through her teeth, so they dulled all the while. No more whites to her name, she operated in grays, until she found a boy who told stories that might soothe her sullied hopes.
How nice to be needed, and all cautions heeded, I sped of to save this soul of such sorrow. I told her a story that started last night and lasted far into tomorrow. The characters were flawed and all fumbled with claws to paint in soft pastel colors. There was a boy and a well, and a dreamer who fell (into a deep sleep), and even one tale about lovers.
So this girl who was lost now found purpose at cost of attachment to the tale-teller lips. But in all of my dreams, such fantastical things could never have come to exist, without some prodding from the mind of a girl passing time trying to cheer the whole world up by herself. So I'll take one for the team and devote my midnights it seems, to making her smile and laugh.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
100 Posts
Summarizing Every Blog Up Till Now"
I tried and failed to be a ghost
Inside one hundered single posts
To write about her every night
And keep that image well in sight
I clenched my teeth and wrote some rhymes
That fade with stories, and now 2 dimes
Replace my 20 pennies.
What a joke.
Through other's eyes I seem to gaze
Into a world, and quite amazed
Find that it is not so unlike mine
And my nervous fingers, like bones, do grind
On asphalt streets, in perfect lines
For every tale, yes every time.
A picture is 500 words
Nothing to me, not much to her
I drew a face and the forest heard
And he smiled back sir, quite absurd.
What monsters could lurk in my head
Before I fall into my bed
And fear the glory in my dreams
Reserved for others, or so it seems
My wrinkled nose and darkened eyes
Gaze proficient tales and creative lies
I quote the artists that I despise
Because I envy them.
So hold on tight for another round
One hundered loves left to be found
Let's start again in another town
The Midnight Press can run things now.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Nirvana
He really likes roses, or so it seems
I could use a friend to say they love me
I'm gonna make a sound you won't forget
Afterwords I swore that I would haunt you
Now I'm just way too tired to give a shit.
-"I Was A Cage"
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I'm A Mechanic
Act I
I'll break it once I build it
So I'll mold it from it's pieces
Feel it shaking when I breathe it come alive
Then it stumbles and it topples
Watch it rust to worthless bobbles
And I hold it in my hands and watch it die
Act II
Smokey pipe of great creator
Whisps with fumes of constant thought
He contemplates and masquerades her memory
As a soldier jane, a work of art.
Goodbye young soldier, though you did fight hard
You only played your part
Through grim bones and lymestone
Now it's off to the scrap yard.
I'll break it once I build it
So I'll mold it from it's pieces
Feel it shaking when I breathe it come alive
Then it stumbles and it topples
Watch it rust to worthless bobbles
And I hold it in my hands and watch it die
Act II
Smokey pipe of great creator
Whisps with fumes of constant thought
He contemplates and masquerades her memory
As a soldier jane, a work of art.
Goodbye young soldier, though you did fight hard
You only played your part
Through grim bones and lymestone
Now it's off to the scrap yard.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Yayy Mark!
One day while hiking in the woods, Mark met Valgor, The Giant Evil Troll of Decption, Trickery and General Misdeedyness.
Valgor turned out to be a very fine fellow and, as a matter of fact, he and Mark played a rousing game of Backgammon.
On the way back home, Mark stepped in dog poop.
Valgor turned out to be a very fine fellow and, as a matter of fact, he and Mark played a rousing game of Backgammon.
On the way back home, Mark stepped in dog poop.
Friday, October 2, 2009
How To Mistake One Person For Another
Have you ever met one of those people who seems like some other people? They look like two of your friends mashed into one?
Well let me tell you, I am one of those people, and I am not two of your friends mashed together. I don't know what bands you like, and the fact that you refrence an inside joke involving the term "moose pants" that makes no sense, really offends me.
Maybe I have a personality of my own, like a normal human being, huh? Maybe I have had life experiences and everything you assumed about me on first glance was as much a stereotype as any sexist comment about whore tattoos could be.
Don't look at me like an alien now, don't look mad. Is this how your friend would react? Wouldn't you feel worse if I was actually someone you cared about?
Well then, I guess I'm not. And I guess that's what I've been trying to prove to you this whole damn conversation.
Get it?
Well let me tell you, I am one of those people, and I am not two of your friends mashed together. I don't know what bands you like, and the fact that you refrence an inside joke involving the term "moose pants" that makes no sense, really offends me.
Maybe I have a personality of my own, like a normal human being, huh? Maybe I have had life experiences and everything you assumed about me on first glance was as much a stereotype as any sexist comment about whore tattoos could be.
Don't look at me like an alien now, don't look mad. Is this how your friend would react? Wouldn't you feel worse if I was actually someone you cared about?
Well then, I guess I'm not. And I guess that's what I've been trying to prove to you this whole damn conversation.
Get it?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Hold Your Tongue Love
Well you're not the girl I met at the show
18 months and 12 years ago
We grew like vines and now that we're old
We hold eachother up, safe from decay
For even just one more day
I don't regret a thing.
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