blizzards suck, poetry is cool, etc.
WOOOOOOO!!!! PREMONITIONS OF WAR WAS POSTPONED 'TIL TOMORROW!!!!
FUCK YEAH!!!!!!
I'm obviously over-joyed to hear this because I'm still at home, stuck in this damn house because of mother [fucking] nature, I couldn't get back to school and henceforth wouldn't be able to make it to this rad-freaking show. But now I can. Fuck yes. Blegh, no one cares anyway. Here, this is a collaboration of a few thoughts that wandered through my head in the snow drift of 9A this morning returning from route 6 while listening to a really sorrowful At the Drive In song. Dig it; its long:
'My Dead Wife'
by Tim Conley
You thought my thoughts weren't on you,
While I was at war with myself.
Precipitation builds up in stacks,
Columns looking like an ashen fountain above my weary head,
A memory that blinds me through painful visions of your missing face.
I can't help but cry,
the wringing out of a pail porclein face,
I attach to your own to remember.
It grabs me,
Let it grab you.
Sometimes a blue recognition will drift into the sights,
A field no more,
But a maze of snow piled like the burdens on my mind,
I need you right now.
The warmth at your graveside is not from me, my dear,
But I pray for your forgiveness with a candle if nothing else.
A length of road I can travel no more alone,
But your absence,
Like a suggestion,
Means only a destiny of a tired man on the run,
From himself if no one else.
The hungry,
The weak,
The life,
Without.
Maybe we'll see eachother at the end of all song,
But try and remember,
Just for me and for the now that we seek,
A morning outside in the same bitter cold,
I gazed from a rooftop,
Seeking my own destruction,
Seeing only you bound in the white woods,
as if surrounded by the most holy of lights,
Running to find an angel,
A frozen tear ran for only a second to find a weakness in despair.
Jumping and running and weeping in the snow,
for a minute so sure,
I must have found you,
Your light,
Your beauty.
I couldn't run any longer from everything crashing down,
But just lucky enough to land at your feet,
Discovering the seraphim of youth,
Greeting me with a smile through your precious lips,
One finger up to silence and I join in your gentle gaze,
An understanding that would be so difficult without that face.
But that light always turns to blackness,
only the memory that keeps me moving through the years,
not a moment without missing you,
To know you're not dead but walking in the hand of someone else,
The heartbreak that can't be mended.
Struggling to move on hurts,
To know the real pain within the darkest of blizzards.
You will never know how you've destroyed me, love,
But please believe that these greyed remains beneath the stone,
As shattered as they are and will always be,
For you,
Still know of the warmth we shared,
If for only a gaze trapped in time and endless memory,
Its one that will never escape me,
Escape the true you and your true feelings,
Escape the us that never was and never will be.
I don't think I've ever written anything that's more from within than that poem. If you ever wanna real look at my soul, you can come back to this entry.
Hmmm....there was some more 'stuff' kinda stuff, but I forget it all. Whatever. Goodnight.
FUCK YEAH!!!!!!
I'm obviously over-joyed to hear this because I'm still at home, stuck in this damn house because of mother [fucking] nature, I couldn't get back to school and henceforth wouldn't be able to make it to this rad-freaking show. But now I can. Fuck yes. Blegh, no one cares anyway. Here, this is a collaboration of a few thoughts that wandered through my head in the snow drift of 9A this morning returning from route 6 while listening to a really sorrowful At the Drive In song. Dig it; its long:
'My Dead Wife'
by Tim Conley
You thought my thoughts weren't on you,
While I was at war with myself.
Precipitation builds up in stacks,
Columns looking like an ashen fountain above my weary head,
A memory that blinds me through painful visions of your missing face.
I can't help but cry,
the wringing out of a pail porclein face,
I attach to your own to remember.
It grabs me,
Let it grab you.
Sometimes a blue recognition will drift into the sights,
A field no more,
But a maze of snow piled like the burdens on my mind,
I need you right now.
The warmth at your graveside is not from me, my dear,
But I pray for your forgiveness with a candle if nothing else.
A length of road I can travel no more alone,
But your absence,
Like a suggestion,
Means only a destiny of a tired man on the run,
From himself if no one else.
The hungry,
The weak,
The life,
Without.
Maybe we'll see eachother at the end of all song,
But try and remember,
Just for me and for the now that we seek,
A morning outside in the same bitter cold,
I gazed from a rooftop,
Seeking my own destruction,
Seeing only you bound in the white woods,
as if surrounded by the most holy of lights,
Running to find an angel,
A frozen tear ran for only a second to find a weakness in despair.
Jumping and running and weeping in the snow,
for a minute so sure,
I must have found you,
Your light,
Your beauty.
I couldn't run any longer from everything crashing down,
But just lucky enough to land at your feet,
Discovering the seraphim of youth,
Greeting me with a smile through your precious lips,
One finger up to silence and I join in your gentle gaze,
An understanding that would be so difficult without that face.
But that light always turns to blackness,
only the memory that keeps me moving through the years,
not a moment without missing you,
To know you're not dead but walking in the hand of someone else,
The heartbreak that can't be mended.
Struggling to move on hurts,
To know the real pain within the darkest of blizzards.
You will never know how you've destroyed me, love,
But please believe that these greyed remains beneath the stone,
As shattered as they are and will always be,
For you,
Still know of the warmth we shared,
If for only a gaze trapped in time and endless memory,
Its one that will never escape me,
Escape the true you and your true feelings,
Escape the us that never was and never will be.
I don't think I've ever written anything that's more from within than that poem. If you ever wanna real look at my soul, you can come back to this entry.
Hmmm....there was some more 'stuff' kinda stuff, but I forget it all. Whatever. Goodnight.