a new journal (pyshical one)
I have been reading T.S. Eliot and Dante Alighieri extensively, and it has been affecting my writing greatly. I also have been eating lots of E, to celebrate the end of summer. This also has affected my writing. I have a new journal since 3 days ago and the writing has changed. It's like a new appendage, almost. A calmer, more contemplative one.
Of being young and growing old
Then to be new again
Rethreaded among streetlights as they masked stars
To obscure the visions of humans
Foggy still from the womb
And he fell to his knees in a field of dandelions
Where one had spoke of inner visions
And collision,
But woe, no longer still;
A petal heavy with water and calendar leaves
Times when the sun rose, but, to no avail,
Ceased falling,
And with ears at attention
Words were woven as clouds passed
And the memory was jarred to swim beyond sensory organs
And O grass, O maple, O shrub,
O snake and bird, O bear
Were raising voices towards a ten thousand year tower
And the sky grew dark as re-entry forced his eyes to drip and moan;
Some menial, maniacal, municipal cause,
Returning,
Taken unfinished off the loom,
And an unfinished project they became in a basket under the bed
Among china dolls and forgotten toys
Until shifting stars say the sun shine
And a new day rises on people with marks unerasable,
Untraceable by sattelite or song
And they weave amongst the field
And dance within the walls.
------------------------------------------
Far between spotless summer days and winter's silvery tone
I stopped among the makeshift garden
Breaking concrete rivers that some call home
I'd grown tired
And had thrown off myself the need to roam.
It was reaching twilight for the dandelion petals
And sparkling sleep had begun to suprise the roses
When the people approached;
"From where have you come? And what are you doing?"
Asked she, the head of the pack,
The supreme personality
(If only so by her banality)
And I, knowing not of enforced triviality,
Responded, in kind,
"Eternity."
Dandelion leaves and rose petals fell to the floor of her maze,
But in this way she was afraid;
And unleashing peircing eyes
Her tounge stroked her funeral pire
Of rapid fire volleys from cannons
But she's forgetten to load them;
And she, waving her badge of conformity,
Silenced her peers and left.
Lo, how sad it is to raise a generation of the deaf!
Erase their memories of days
Outside of the icebox's malaise
When they painted murals just by breathing
Oh me, oh my,
Oh me, oh my,
They will wear a suit and tie
Unless their head is broken,
They remember how to laugh
And how to cry.
I'm going back to school in 2 days. Isn't existence more surreal that you could ever imagine?
Answer this question:
How much of your reality (including past, present, and future) do you accept as truth based on information, and how much based on intuition?
Current Wings: Shhhh they're asleep
Of being young and growing old
Then to be new again
Rethreaded among streetlights as they masked stars
To obscure the visions of humans
Foggy still from the womb
And he fell to his knees in a field of dandelions
Where one had spoke of inner visions
And collision,
But woe, no longer still;
A petal heavy with water and calendar leaves
Times when the sun rose, but, to no avail,
Ceased falling,
And with ears at attention
Words were woven as clouds passed
And the memory was jarred to swim beyond sensory organs
And O grass, O maple, O shrub,
O snake and bird, O bear
Were raising voices towards a ten thousand year tower
And the sky grew dark as re-entry forced his eyes to drip and moan;
Some menial, maniacal, municipal cause,
Returning,
Taken unfinished off the loom,
And an unfinished project they became in a basket under the bed
Among china dolls and forgotten toys
Until shifting stars say the sun shine
And a new day rises on people with marks unerasable,
Untraceable by sattelite or song
And they weave amongst the field
And dance within the walls.
------------------------------------------
Far between spotless summer days and winter's silvery tone
I stopped among the makeshift garden
Breaking concrete rivers that some call home
I'd grown tired
And had thrown off myself the need to roam.
It was reaching twilight for the dandelion petals
And sparkling sleep had begun to suprise the roses
When the people approached;
"From where have you come? And what are you doing?"
Asked she, the head of the pack,
The supreme personality
(If only so by her banality)
And I, knowing not of enforced triviality,
Responded, in kind,
"Eternity."
Dandelion leaves and rose petals fell to the floor of her maze,
But in this way she was afraid;
And unleashing peircing eyes
Her tounge stroked her funeral pire
Of rapid fire volleys from cannons
But she's forgetten to load them;
And she, waving her badge of conformity,
Silenced her peers and left.
Lo, how sad it is to raise a generation of the deaf!
Erase their memories of days
Outside of the icebox's malaise
When they painted murals just by breathing
Oh me, oh my,
Oh me, oh my,
They will wear a suit and tie
Unless their head is broken,
They remember how to laugh
And how to cry.
I'm going back to school in 2 days. Isn't existence more surreal that you could ever imagine?
Answer this question:
How much of your reality (including past, present, and future) do you accept as truth based on information, and how much based on intuition?
Current Wings: Shhhh they're asleep