Friday, May 27, 2011

Once upon a time

I wanted to love. I wanted to be love. I wanted to know all there was in the world of man. I wanted to know your name, the one you whispered to the night and gave your dreams flight. I wanted to worship, to believe in god and bow in awe of all that I beheld.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

To My Brother George

Full many a dreary hour have I past,
My brain bewildered, and my mind o'ercast
With heaviness; in seasons when I've thought
No spherey strains by me could e'er be caught
From the blue dome, though I to dimness gaze
On the far depth where sheeted lightning plays;
Or, on the wavy grass outstretched supinely,
Pry 'mong the stars, to strive to think divinely:
That I should never hear Apollo's song,
Though feathery clouds were floating all along
The purple west, and, two bright streaks between,
The golden lyre itself were dimly seen:
That the still murmur of the honey bee
Would never teach a rural song to me:
That the bright glance from beauty's eyelids slanting
Would never make a lay of mine enchanting,
Or warm my breast with ardour to unfold
Some tale of love and arms in time of old.

But there are times, when those that love the bay,
Fly from all sorrowing far, far away;
A sudden glow comes on them, nought they see
In water, earth, or air, but poesy.
It has been said, dear George, and true I hold it,
(For knightly Spenser to Libertas told it,)
That when a Poet is in such a trance,
In air her sees white coursers paw, and prance,
Bestridden of gay knights, in gay apparel,
Who at each other tilt in playful quarrel,
And what we, ignorantly, sheet-lightning call,
Is the swift opening of their wide portal,
When the bright warder blows his trumpet clear,
Whose tones reach nought on earth but Poet's ear.
When these enchanted portals open wide,
And through the light the horsemen swiftly glide,
The Poet's eye can reach those golden halls,
And view the glory of their festivals:
Their ladies fair, that in the distance seem
Fit for the silv'ring of a seraph's dream;
Their rich brimmed goblets, that incessant run
Like the bright spots that move about the sun;
And, when upheld, the wine from each bright jar
Pours with the lustre of a falling star.
Yet further off, are dimly seen their bowers,
Of which, no mortal eye can reach the flowers;
And 'tis right just, for well Apollo knows
'Twould make the Poet quarrel with the rose.
All that's revealed from that far seat of blisses
Is the clear fountains' interchanging kisses,
As gracefully descending, light and thin,
Like silver streaks across a dolphin's fin,
When he upswimmeth from the coral caves,
And sports with half his tail above the waves.

These wonders strange he sees, and many more,
Whose head is pregnant with poetic lore.
Should he upon an evening ramble fare
With forehead to the soothing breezes bare,
Would he nought see but the dark, silent blue
With all its diamonds trembling through and through?
Or the coy moon, when in the waviness
Of whitest clouds she does her beauty dress,
And staidly paces higher up, and higher,
Like a sweet nun in holy-day attire?
Ah, yes! much more would start into his sight—
The revelries and mysteries of night:
And should I ever see them, I will tell you
Such tales as needs must with amazement spell you.

These are the living pleasures of the bard:
But richer far posterity's reward.
What does he murmur with his latest breath,
While his proud eye looks though the film of death?
"What though I leave this dull and earthly mould,
Yet shall my spirit lofty converse hold
With after times.—The patriot shall feel
My stern alarum, and unsheath his steel;
Or, in the senate thunder out my numbers
To startle princes from their easy slumbers.
The sage will mingle with each moral theme
My happy thoughts sententious; he will teem
With lofty periods when my verses fire him,
And then I'll stoop from heaven to inspire him.
Lays have I left of such a dear delight
That maids will sing them on their bridal night.
Gay villagers, upon a morn of May,
When they have tired their gentle limbs with play
And formed a snowy circle on the grass,
And placed in midst of all that lovely lass
Who chosen is their queen,—with her fine head
Crowned with flowers purple, white, and red:
For there the lily, and the musk-rose, sighing,
Are emblems true of hapless lovers dying:
Between her breasts, that never yet felt trouble,
A bunch of violets full blown, and double,
Serenely sleep:—she from a casket takes
A little book,—and then a joy awakes
About each youthful heart,—with stifled cries,
And rubbing of white hands, and sparkling eyes:
For she's to read a tale of hopes, and fears;
One that I fostered in my youthful years:
The pearls, that on each glist'ning circlet sleep,
Must ever and anon with silent creep,
Lured by the innocent dimples. To sweet rest
Shall the dear babe, upon its mother's breast,
Be lulled with songs of mine. Fair world, adieu!
Thy dales, and hills, are fading from my view:
Swiftly I mount, upon wide spreading pinions,
Far from the narrow bound of thy dominions.
Full joy I feel, while thus I cleave the air,
That my soft verse will charm thy daughters fair,
And warm thy sons!" Ah, my dear friend and brother,
Could I, at once, my mad ambition smother,
For tasting joys like these, sure I should be
Happier, and dearer to society.
At times, 'tis true, I've felt relief from pain
When some bright thought has darted through my brain:
Through all that day I've felt a greater pleasure
Than if I'd brought to light a hidden treasure.
As to my sonnets, though none else should heed them,
I feel delighted, still, that you should read them.
Of late, too, I have had much calm enjoyment,
Stretched on the grass at my best loved employment
Of scribbling lines for you. These things I thought
While, in my face, the freshest breeze I caught.
E'en now I'm pillowed on a bed of flowers
That crowns a lofty clift, which proudly towers
Above the ocean-waves, The stalks, and blades,
Chequer my tablet with their quivering shades.
On one side is a field of drooping oats,
Through which the poppies show their scarlet coats;
So pert and useless, that they bring to mind
The scarlet coats that pester human-kind.
And on the other side, outspread, is seen
Ocean's blue mantle streaked with purple, and green.
Now 'tis I see a canvassed ship, and now
Mark the bright silver curling round her prow.
I see the lark dowm-dropping to his nest,
And the broad winged sea-gull never at rest;
For when no more he spreads his feathers free,
His breast is dancing on the restless sea.
Now I direct my eyes into the west,
Which at this moment is in sunbeams drest:
Why westward turn? 'Twas but to say adieu!
'Twas but to kiss my hand, dear George, to you!
-------------------------------------------------John Keats

Monday, May 23, 2011


Greetings earthlings! If you're reading this, you're probably still stuck on earth! The rapture went fine and heaven is okay so far; we're all lining up to enter this tall white tower where sounds of praise can be heard. I've noticed some really excited people walking in the opposite direction; MJ, Marvin Gaye and I think I saw Pac and Biggie share some chronic and overheard Pac say "Thugz mansion is in the other direction" I think I'm in the wrong line!

Friday, May 20, 2011

If the world should pass away tomorrow

I want you to know that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me.

There was a time when I didn't know what it was all for. Life it seemed was stacked against me by an unseen force that paid no heed to my cries. I would have unraveled the string that tied me to everything if I had found the will to tug at it.

I knew you from the beginning; before the flesh, before the eye of mind could paint your face. You were in my heart, calling me forth. I heard your voice, in the still silent moment before the plunge, I heard you will it to live and let nothing within die.

I want you to know that I trust you with the nakedness of a newborn babe; that in this facade I cannot hide from you.

I want you to know that I have hope in you; that tomorrow will be better for two and the skies oh so sunny and blue.

I want you to know that I love you.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Test Emails

In the spring of 1643, Jacob travelled down to the shores of the Mediterranean and set sail for the dark continent of Africa. At first, he couldn't find any captain willing to go that far out to sea. "There be monsters there" said George "Skinny" McPhallon, who had sailed farthest of any known man. He was a legend in the sailors' club, talked about as far as the northern tip of Galicia. Captain Skinny first went out to sea when he was nine years old. His father, a well known sailor from the isles of Albion had taken him out on his birthday, to teach him the ropes, so he said.
This is not a drill. In the 5th year of the 23rd vertical lunar shift, Kashar left the aqua colony of Aegrat for the southern system of Klom. He was accompanied by the 3rd guard of her royal highness, queen Pax.
I am all alone. This empty place weighs on my soul. I cannot leave for there is nothing anywhere else. There is no anywhere else only here and I. All alone.
The World is mine....mwahahahahahaha!

Someone Like You

I heard that you're settled down,
That you found a girl and you're married now,
I heard that your dreams came true,
Guess she gave you things I didn't give to you,
Old friend, why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back or hide from the light,

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,
I had hoped you'd see my face,
And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over,

Nevermind, I'll find someone like you,
I wish nothing but the best for you, too,
Don't forget me, I beg,
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead,"
Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead, yeah,

You know how the time flies,
Only yesterday was the time of our lives,
We were born and raised in a summer haze,
Bound by the surprise of our glory days,

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,
I had hoped you'd see my face,
And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over,

Nevermind, I'll find someone like you,
I wish nothing but the best for you, too,
Don't forget me, I beg,
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead,"

Nothing compares,
No worries or cares,
Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made,
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

Nevermind, I'll find someone like you,
I wish nothing but the best for you,
Don't forget me, I beg,
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead,"

Nevermind, I'll find someone like you,
I wish nothing but the best for you, too,
Don't forget me, I beg,
I remember you said,
"Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead,"
Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Turning Pink

I'm starting to dislike my government very much, it shows so much fear, infantile logic and an alarming willingness to resort to violence. That is not what I want from it. I want it to be just, to inspire me to be a better person and to help me create a better place for my kin and I to live in. I don't want it to threaten me with death should I choose to differ in opinion and practice, if that is the society it wishes to create, then I would rather not be party to it.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Tomato Sandwich

The only person you have to fight with is yourself, when all the anger is done, when the flame has burned out, and the people say that it was all your fault, that the sin was borne in the circumstance, dead and decaying, what they taught was wrong from the beginning, if I was to be the unfortunate one to tell you of how it is to be the bastard son of a dead ideaology, I would say you rather give me death than pent up animosity.

I have learned, somehow, through the years, that anger destroys first and foremost he who wields it, for then it leads him to violence. The lessons to be learned from an act of violence are without number for he can never truly know what he could have done to stop it from happening in the first place. Yet there is what you know, in the myriad happenstances of life, you are here.

You must know how to save a life, first and foremost your own. If you should find yourself on the edge of destruction, and in the passions of strife choose to fight against the world, know well how to save thy soul, for it is only you at the beginning and the end.

I have been angry, at many things. {Okaay, I just made the best sandwich in the whole world! Its a brown bread, tomato sandwich with mayo and a sprinkling of salt. Right now, I'm going to take a big bite and get lost in some other world, only for a moment.}

I got angry at life a long time ago, I was told once that life was meant to be harsh to me, that did i not know that I was an orphan? Are you God's son, that you would utter these words and decree a life of servitude for a man? When I was younger, the only father I had was God and then I walked out of his house.

When the anger is done, there must be peace, for the soul must find rest in its understanding of the world. To be otherwise is to long for another state, of being, dead perhaps but you are here so you must find some sense, in all of it.

May it make you a better person, and may you leave by the wayside all that is between us sown with a bitterness of heart.