soon, i will go. because i will have to. but for now. let's fall.
November 14, 2009
November 8, 2009
i want the world
you know what i really want to do?
i really want to get lost
i really want to eat, and taste, everything and nothing
i really want to sing, songs without lyrics
i really want to write, nothing on a page - page after page
i really want to just sit and feel the wind even when there's none
i really want the world.
i really want the world.
i really want to get lost
i really want to eat, and taste, everything and nothing
i really want to sing, songs without lyrics
i really want to write, nothing on a page - page after page
i really want to just sit and feel the wind even when there's none
i really want the world.
i really want the world.
November 6, 2009
hope
hope can see you through the darkest night, true.
but i've also learnt that hope can sometimes be deliriously demented delusions
November 5, 2009
November 4, 2009
November 3, 2009
it has been a horrible day. physically. mentally. emotionally. am amazed at the amount of things i have to write, and end up writing sometimes. wonder where they come from. the research and reading suck nearly every last ounce of concentration, the writing ... might just be out of rote. you know what? goodbye.
November 2, 2009
November 1, 2009
waiting
i dreamt i took a picture of you
so clear, so vivid, i thought you were here
but then i searched
and then i found
here you are not
yet here i am
waiting
always waiting
so clear, so vivid, i thought you were here
but then i searched
and then i found
here you are not
yet here i am
waiting
always waiting
August 30, 2009
remember me not
right now, memories are not so fun. a certain song, a place of once upon a time. a certain movie, a place of lazy afternoons.
and worst of all? you do not even know.
August 27, 2009
August 26, 2009
it is ok
a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. in your world, i have been reduced to nothingness. a girl you once knew. a hand you once held. or perhaps i underestimated you. perhaps you suffer in your little world too. but here in my heart, your every thought. your name alone, brings a stab in places i can never reach. but it's ok. because they say that a broken heart makes for a better writer. it's ok. because whether you come back or not, the sun will shine yet again. the birds, they'll sing to me. the stars, they'll wink at me. so it's ok. it really is - ok.
August 21, 2009
August 12, 2009
August 11, 2009
The Blueberry Girl
Ladies of Darkness, and Ladies of Never-You-Mind,
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl.
First, May you ladies be kind.
Keep her from spindles and sleeps at sixteen;
Let her stay waking and wise.
Nightmares at three, or bad husbands at thirty;
These will not trouble her eyes.
Dull days at forty, false friends at fifteen;
Let her have bright days and true.
Let her go places that we've never been;
Trust and delight in her youth.
Ladies of Grace, and Ladies of Favour,
and Ladies of Merciful Night,
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Grant her your clearness of sight.
Worlds can be worrisome, people complex;
Motives and manners unclear.
Grant her the wisdom to choose her path right,
Free from unkindness and fear.
Let her tell stories, and dance in the rain,
Somersault, tumble, and run;
Her joys must be high as her sorrows are deep,
Let her grow like the weed in the sun.
Ladies of Paradox, Ladies of Measure,
Ladies of Shadows-That-Fall;
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Words written clear on the wall.
Help her to help herself, help her to stand,
Help her to lose, and to find.
Teach her we're only as big as our dreams,
tell her that fortune is blind.
Truth is a thing she must find for herself,
precious, and rare as a pearl;
Give her all these, and a little bit more,
give this for a Blueberry Girl.
- Neil Gaiman -
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl.
First, May you ladies be kind.
Keep her from spindles and sleeps at sixteen;
Let her stay waking and wise.
Nightmares at three, or bad husbands at thirty;
These will not trouble her eyes.
Dull days at forty, false friends at fifteen;
Let her have bright days and true.
Let her go places that we've never been;
Trust and delight in her youth.
Ladies of Grace, and Ladies of Favour,
and Ladies of Merciful Night,
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Grant her your clearness of sight.
Worlds can be worrisome, people complex;
Motives and manners unclear.
Grant her the wisdom to choose her path right,
Free from unkindness and fear.
Let her tell stories, and dance in the rain,
Somersault, tumble, and run;
Her joys must be high as her sorrows are deep,
Let her grow like the weed in the sun.
Ladies of Paradox, Ladies of Measure,
Ladies of Shadows-That-Fall;
this is a prayer for a Blueberry Girl,
Words written clear on the wall.
Help her to help herself, help her to stand,
Help her to lose, and to find.
Teach her we're only as big as our dreams,
tell her that fortune is blind.
Truth is a thing she must find for herself,
precious, and rare as a pearl;
Give her all these, and a little bit more,
give this for a Blueberry Girl.
- Neil Gaiman -
August 10, 2009
now i know it's true
now i know it's true
nothing makes sense at all
words become letters on a page
songs drift in and out, rising, falling
lyrics and music yet nothing at all
now i know it's true
this is how emptiness feels
this is what emptiness means
oh god.
oh.god.
nothing makes sense at all
words become letters on a page
songs drift in and out, rising, falling
lyrics and music yet nothing at all
now i know it's true
this is how emptiness feels
this is what emptiness means
oh god.
oh.god.
a butterfly was always meant to fly
i tried to hold the wind
it was never meant to be
i tried to keep a star
there never was one to begin with
i breathed in deep
so i'd never forget
i wrote you on my heart
so i'd always have
did you not know the times i sat and watched
did you not know the times i stayed and listened
i'm letting you go
for a butterfly was always meant to fly
you said you'd return
to wait for you
but didn't you know?
didn't you know?
a butterfly was always meant to fly
it was never meant to be
i tried to keep a star
there never was one to begin with
i breathed in deep
so i'd never forget
i wrote you on my heart
so i'd always have
did you not know the times i sat and watched
did you not know the times i stayed and listened
i'm letting you go
for a butterfly was always meant to fly
you said you'd return
to wait for you
but didn't you know?
didn't you know?
a butterfly was always meant to fly
July 29, 2009
when the clock strikes twelve
when the clock strikes twelve tonight, look for a star.
a very special star. for when you see it you will know.
damn it, you will know.
a very special star. for when you see it you will know.
damn it, you will know.
blue looks bad on me
some people, when they are down, they eat.
some people, when they are down, they get even blue-er.
me. i just want to move and run far far away.
some people, when they are down, they get even blue-er.
me. i just want to move and run far far away.
July 28, 2009
don't talk
there are certain things we never talk about.
like careful wanderers skirting a minefield, there are areas we just tread softly around. oh we talk about our pasts. we talk about the future. hopes. dreams. likes. dislikes. we talk about everything under the sky.
but there are just certain things we know not to bring up. never to mention even.
it's not that we don't know that the other person knows about it. he knows i know. i know he knows i know. i know he knows. yet, like dancing partners, certain steps you take. certain, you skirt around and twirl the other way.
is it because we do not want to break this illusion we have created? this time and space we crafted out of a sliver of reality? is it because we know that talking about certain things make them 'real'? not that not talking about them make them any less real. but perhaps we know, that by saying the words, something will change. perspective shifts. truths we tried to deny solidify. the lies we tell ourselves break and shatter. is ignorance really bliss?
so yes, there are certain things we just never talk about.
like careful wanderers skirting a minefield, there are areas we just tread softly around. oh we talk about our pasts. we talk about the future. hopes. dreams. likes. dislikes. we talk about everything under the sky.
but there are just certain things we know not to bring up. never to mention even.
it's not that we don't know that the other person knows about it. he knows i know. i know he knows i know. i know he knows. yet, like dancing partners, certain steps you take. certain, you skirt around and twirl the other way.
is it because we do not want to break this illusion we have created? this time and space we crafted out of a sliver of reality? is it because we know that talking about certain things make them 'real'? not that not talking about them make them any less real. but perhaps we know, that by saying the words, something will change. perspective shifts. truths we tried to deny solidify. the lies we tell ourselves break and shatter. is ignorance really bliss?
so yes, there are certain things we just never talk about.
July 23, 2009
when no means yes
last night i said no to a friend i've never said no too. not in three years at least.
it started to rain. did you hear it? that's the sound of my heart breaking.
when you know that no is the only answer. even though every cell in your being screams yes, do you still say no?
no it is then.
it started to rain. did you hear it? that's the sound of my heart breaking.
when you know that no is the only answer. even though every cell in your being screams yes, do you still say no?
no it is then.
July 19, 2009
confessions of a "maybe sadist"
i hovered near the door of my heart.
hesitating, i wonder if to nudge it open would be the best choice. perhaps some things are best left alone. call it denial but sometimes, denial's the only option life presents. "why take life so seriously?" pain will, after all, come, whether we seek it or not. the birth of a new born baby. the passing of a loved one or maybe even a stranger, considering how the world now is one. the loss of the bliss that was once ignorance. the neglect of a once-loved passion.
pain it seems is not something we can put away in the broom closet and close the door on.
why? why do we often open up the pandora box? like a wound that has not yet fully healed. we know that picking at it would result only in scars, yet pick at it we will, and often, over and again. till at some point, it is but a nasty habit. more than even a conscious act, it is a gesture at normality.
perhaps in some ways we are all sadistic. perhaps in some ways we revel in dwelling on self-pity. self-pity, the truly loathsome word. going over the pain again and again. we seem to somehow rejoice in feeling that odd stab in the heart.
that odd stab in the heart.
does it make us more human to feel pain? or does it make us less human to want to feel the pain?
hesitating, i wonder if to nudge it open would be the best choice. perhaps some things are best left alone. call it denial but sometimes, denial's the only option life presents. "why take life so seriously?" pain will, after all, come, whether we seek it or not. the birth of a new born baby. the passing of a loved one or maybe even a stranger, considering how the world now is one. the loss of the bliss that was once ignorance. the neglect of a once-loved passion.
pain it seems is not something we can put away in the broom closet and close the door on.
why? why do we often open up the pandora box? like a wound that has not yet fully healed. we know that picking at it would result only in scars, yet pick at it we will, and often, over and again. till at some point, it is but a nasty habit. more than even a conscious act, it is a gesture at normality.
perhaps in some ways we are all sadistic. perhaps in some ways we revel in dwelling on self-pity. self-pity, the truly loathsome word. going over the pain again and again. we seem to somehow rejoice in feeling that odd stab in the heart.
that odd stab in the heart.
does it make us more human to feel pain? or does it make us less human to want to feel the pain?
July 14, 2009
3am notes
lately the sleeping pattern has been quite crap, for lack of a stronger word. going to bed at midnight, i lay awake and wander the hours away. other times, going to bed at 9pm, the world rushes to yet another party while i fall and tumble into a dreamless sleep. unbidden, i'd come awake sometime between the dead of night and the wake of dawn.
most remarkably, i realized that lately, i have been writing in my sleep. no. i rephrase. i have been writing half asleep. maybe my muse is delighting itself, nudging me at 3am nightly, but come that hour, perhaps not precisely at 3am, but when the hands of the clock glow at that hour, a line would come. a dream-like phrase of beauty sneaks in, and i can't but come awake and make it real.
stay in my head, i thought. yet i knew even as i thought, neglected, it would flee.
like an unwanted love, left alone, shrivel and die it will.
3am notes. my dreams or yours?
spare me now and let me dream.
most remarkably, i realized that lately, i have been writing in my sleep. no. i rephrase. i have been writing half asleep. maybe my muse is delighting itself, nudging me at 3am nightly, but come that hour, perhaps not precisely at 3am, but when the hands of the clock glow at that hour, a line would come. a dream-like phrase of beauty sneaks in, and i can't but come awake and make it real.
stay in my head, i thought. yet i knew even as i thought, neglected, it would flee.
like an unwanted love, left alone, shrivel and die it will.
3am notes. my dreams or yours?
spare me now and let me dream.
June 15, 2009
maybe
grace has not been grace for quite a while.
but i think ... i'm coming back. or He's coming back. maybe slowly. maybe even tentatively. but reading His word just now, i suddenly realized and thought to myself, oh my god! it's Him again. i know this. i remember this feeling.
He speaks again.
was feeling rather out of it and saw Deborah. a woman of vision, she looked past the seemingly impossible situation her nation faced and lay hold of the hope; of His promises.
maybe life's better if we just see beyond the natural situations, regardless of how hopeless or desperate they may seem, hold the courage that enables us to grasp His mind and will.
but i think ... i'm coming back. or He's coming back. maybe slowly. maybe even tentatively. but reading His word just now, i suddenly realized and thought to myself, oh my god! it's Him again. i know this. i remember this feeling.
He speaks again.
was feeling rather out of it and saw Deborah. a woman of vision, she looked past the seemingly impossible situation her nation faced and lay hold of the hope; of His promises.
maybe life's better if we just see beyond the natural situations, regardless of how hopeless or desperate they may seem, hold the courage that enables us to grasp His mind and will.
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