29 & 30

Poem 29

Catharsis.
Simply a word?
Simply so much more.
Emotional release,
Love or torment.

Send some my way.
I'm tired of running today.
My feelings repressed and emotions regressed,
As if I weren't up to the test.

World: leaving me bereft of strength.
Safety lying only in past times.
Draw the sword, young one!
Give yourself the strength that I so need.

Weaknesses lie behind me.
Among the oppressed, my domain.
Our tormentors smile from above.
Looking back: it's all remaining to do.

My mistakes, my burdens;
My loves, my songs.
All led to naught.
Oh, I had Catharsis all right.
Brought nothing for my soul, not even pain.

Ask: dare you follow my path?
Finding pain in pleasure?
Seeing nothing in all?
Look me in the eye;
Time to sigh.
Sigh and surrender to your past.
_________________
Poem 30

Princess in my dreams.
Forever within reach;
Never in arms' length.
From afar I spy
Your joyful eyes,
Hoping they lie.
Hoping you wait.

Waiting for me.
Not your knight,
Still your savior.
Appraise my soul!
Worth far more than gold.

Yet, must I save myself
Before I save you?
This dream...
More than life.
Happy endings without a mess.
Except, I still wait for you.
My soul trapped in this dream,
My body constrained to reality.

Princess in my dreams!
Become princess of them.
Benevolent rule over my subconscious,
A domain none other has seen.
Help me fly;
Help me no longer sigh.

Princess of my dreams.
Wicked and vile creature!
Trapping me in eternity.
Let me escape to a world
I know is real.
Allow me fear,
Grant me suffering.
Without them, your grace
Means nothing.

My fantasy.
Your reality.
Eternally entwined.

24, 25, 26, 27, 28

Poem 24

Rhythm courses through my veins.
Like an undammed river,
Exploding everywhere.
Rains of passion
Creating flurry.
Cannot stop it.
Sing & Dance!
To the rhythm, to the beat,
To the soul world.
Days of passion
Brought by music.
Having chosen to choose it.

Sing! Dance!
Vehemently swing like branches.
Surrender to the rhythm.
Passionately sing like birds.
Swimming upstream like salmon,
Fruitless efforts.

Surrender.
Happiness awaits You through song.

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Poem 25
My favorite things.
Those cannot be sung.
Could they be,
None would want to.
Joy not in my hand,
No jokers found,
Simply low cards.
High rollers? Nay.
High times?  Bowl depleted.

My favorite things.
Should not be for me:
Not for any.
Common threads of adolescence
Of which we dare not speak.

My favorite things.
Demons to be conquered,
Not relished!
Impossible challenges
Surrounding like the mob.

My favorite things.
Unfortunate, they are.
Dire consequences.
Inner struggles.

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Poem 26
One day.
One night.
Time lacking meaning
Whenever in sight.
Love the day,
Loathe the night.
Inevitable polar opposites.
Envy by night,
Love by day.
Real world bringing love,
Dreams bringing lust.

________________
Poem 27

Masked heroes and villains.
Both hiding true nature.
Two sides of a coin,
Both predicting similar outcomes.

Insanity inside.
Normals sneer with snide.
Never understanding,
Never trying.

Daytime, different masks.
Serving a platter of more
Tasteful items for the normals.
By night, masks switched.

Which is the true mask?
Wherein lies true nature?
Is there such a thing,
For the Heroes and Villains?

______________________
Poem 28
Don't stop.
Flurries of passion abound,
Never with audible sounds.
A flurry of furies that
Turn to passions.

Furies unrestrained,
Never becoming passions.
Knowing not, missing out.
They scream and shout.

Passions.
Furies satisfied all right.
Inner negativity, outer greatness.

Love is passion.
Love is fury.
Love is a curse.
Love is a fire.

Random thought

Poems to come later today.  I had a busy weekend that involved getting drunk, paying $15 for parking, and some ramen.  Maybe some tears here and there.

My mother looks very weak but that's probably still the drugs in her.  She looked much better my last day, but she still spoke quite slow.

What's random about that?  Nothing.  Here's my random thought.  I remember when I was a kid I used to rub my dad's face whenever he hadn't shaved.  He never grew a beard or anything (although he did have a moustache), but he let scruff grow from time to time.  I remember finding that texture so unique on his face.  And now I find that I have it if it's been 2 or 3 days after I shaved.  Weird how things like that happen.

Poem 23

Late!  I was at a friend's house tonight watchin' a movie.  In Bruges.  Check it out, Colin Farrell's in it.

_____________

He was a man of unbridled love.
His passions, his tastes.
At the wire all came down to love.
Bright and cheery, though facing darkness.
That's how he was.

A man of unconditional feelings.
For Everyman, tho' some special.
None equaled he,
Oh, I wish t'were me!
No vice could outrace
Love's faster pace.

Even Death he loved
As if greeting an old friend.
An example for all.
Wise beyond his time.

Nobody knew his silent cries.
Nobody knew his screaming lies.
Such a man cannot exist.

Idolization: key to the land of the lost.
Inspiration it brings,
Happiness it sings.
One of few things not a slave to time.
A pain greater than any;
Inevitable downfall it precedes.

Never can I be that man.
Never will there truly be that man.
A facade, a mirror: shattered.
How I wish I had not.

Setting rules for internet probation is dumb.  Haha.  I'm still taking it easy on the web time, but if my work is done I'm not about to stop myself from wasting time.


Today I went to a "Last Lecture" sermon by a Buddhist professor at school.  How fascinating!  The lecture itself was pretty short and consisted of worldly wisdom.  Always challenge authority, be around people who will correct you, don't be afraid to dream.  Stuff like that.  and always reflect on death.  Supposedly Buddhism believes that a day when you don't is a day wasted.

Then it went into her life experience. This is where it gets interesting.  She grew up in Honolulu 50-60 someodd years ago, then moved to Malibu.  And started surfing.  Her dad said it was too manly and sent her to modeling school... we saw some pictures, she was pretty pretty.  So, at one point, she goes to Japan to surf.  Because she still loved surfing after that.  She chose to stay a year, and her interest in buddhism grew.  She's been all over Asia - Tibet, India, Vietnam, Korea etc.  She's done conferences with the Dalai Lama, as in participated in them as well.  Actually I believe she's a prominent female Buddhist monk.  Odd note: despite Tibet being a very important center of Buddhist culture, women cannot be ordained there.  She was ordained in Korea.  there were quite a few pictures of her with him in them actually in the powerpoint.  So in short she's done a lot in her life.  Snake bites,  reconstructed arms, I can't even tell you half of it. She's traveled due to her status as a monk.

Also, before she was a monk, she traveled the world as a folk musician . Apparently she released a record with her friends in Japan.  Probably maybe influenced by her time at UC Berkeley in the 60s, so you can imagine how that went.

Who wants poetry?  I do!  I'll do something to a rhythm this time
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Poem 22

Mischievous creeps scurrying around
Sounds whispers voices not in my head
Where have I gone? somewhere I don't know
Somebody help me, I've lost my way

Ten days ago I was happy alone
Something is missing, what they know not.
Squeezed dry of inspiration - am I

This poem's awful, now finish it
Thank you guys, promise tomorrow won't
Suck.





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wow, setting rhythm rules makes anything I type feel uninspired.

The Internet is Over.

Yup.  I think I had a Prince moment.  Barring a moment this morning when I did not think of this goal, I have yet to use the internet today outside of my email.  And here's the thing: it came naturally.  I did not feel any pressing need to surf the webs.  For the first time in... years... I seemed in control of my internet addiction.  I do not know what did it.  No idea.  I think part of it stems from deleting facebook, and another part from the fact that I'm tired of staying up until 2 AM not working because I can think of other things to do on that magical information superhighway. I didn't even sign on Skype!

Places I will probably still visit without guilt:

1.  Webcomics.  Still check the ones that are updated daily, mainly (and possibly only) The Dreamland Chronicles.  Hopefully only once daily.
2.  My email.  Essential for school and sometimes other things.
3.  Youtube.  Not to watch videos, no, I won't be doing that. But if I'm craving a song and don't want to deal with Spotify it's a great on-demand service.
4.  My blog!  I have to update because I promised myself I would for Lent.  And I have to admit, once I got into the swing of things I really did start enjoying poetry.  Sometimes, making something familiar is all it takes for it to become comfortable and feel less obligatory.  I guess that makes me a conservative as defined by Oakeshott.
5. Occasional Skype.  But only after I do my work!  I think I can pull this one off.
6.  School research.  Hey, it's kind of necessary you know.

Haha!  It feels good to be free.  I hope this wasn't just because I had coffee today.  It seems to make me a better person; no, seriously, I was way happier than usual today.  AND I STAYED AWAKE WITHOUT A NAP!

So, poetry.  How 'bout it.

Poem 21

So powerful, far away.
I dream, knowing it falsified.
Such shame... the importance remains;
Tho' need diminished like rains in drought.
Chances to achieve
Never taken.

Day after waking day fulfilling emptiness.
Missing the point, shedding tears for
What I know missing.
Alas, love!
Crutch of the weak?
No!  The power of the Deities?

Not for me.
Bereft of what I know not,
Lacking understanding.
Send me the Power,
At the appointed hour.

If not achieved by I,
Cannot be conceived at all.
Curses towards successful lovers,
My vanity satisfied.

So ends light of Love,
So have I created Darkness.
Greeted by moonlight
Embracing the sky.
No warm-hearted embraces,
Except in the wrong places.

Good night, all.
Peaceful rest is mine,
Returning what was lost.
My dreams of Love.

______________
...Heavy stuff. I was listening to the following for reference while writing:

Its bitter sweet sound hopefully matches the mood of the poem.

Poem 20

I'm down today
____________
Poem 20

Black and white
Always calling the cards.
Spreading misery.
Not their fault,
Keep blaming nature.
Absolute opposites
Causing trouble like Saturdays cause drinking.
Who reads the cards?
Gray.

Happy belated St Patty's Day!

It was yesterday.  I didn't want to make note of the holiday until I actually celebrated it.  I ended up going to a friend's house and downing some Jameson with him and his gf.  Man we're lousy drunks.  Rockband was fun though.

Poem 19

The clock struck at the opportune moment.
All was quietly dull in peace.
Until it rang, rang, rang.
There began a change
Wherein the people arose.

Rising from their beds like zombies from the grave,
They went from town to town.
"We've done it!" they cried out in pride and pleasure.
"Our way is the way to go!"

Forgetful of their past failures,
The towns followed the people of Clock Town.
And in their glory they basked.

Eventually the day came when the Clock struck again.
And it happened again and again and again.

Poem 18

A journey for the explorer

at last.  Searched and searched

for years, did he.  And now he

had purpose again.  No more

could he deny that was all

he ever needed.

A strange euphoria

that came with schizophrenia.

He was no explorer.

He had no journey.

All he was was alone.

And there is no cure for that.

Not even the most vivid of fantasies.

Nobody loves me

Nobody is following my blog.  :(

Poem 17

Drowning in a sea of whiskey.
Listening to the sound of the waves,
Enjoying his self torment.
The dock, his one temptation, was within sight,
Floating distance away.
"Drink up," it whispered to him.
"Drink up and I will be yours."
And drink he would,
Were he a better man.
Just the other day he'd drank it dry.
He had with the dock,
Because it was better than drinking alone.

The poisonous sea claims another victim.

Hmm

Does it still count if I do the number of poems but not one a day?  I don't think so, but oh well.  Back at school... don't know how I feel about that yet. Worried about my mother.  Cliffnotes for ya there.  A few of these are probably more like prose, but hey.  I'm already cheating on the time, I can cheat on the form too!

Poem 10

In so many ways
They are alike.
Their habits formed,
Burned the blunt of old friend's scorn.
One was a nihilist,
The other a believer.

The nihilist asked his believer friend,
"Why?"
And, sadly, the believer could not answer.

Finally, he spoke.
"I don't know," he said.
"But I do know that if I could answer 'why' I would probably be a nihilist myself."

The nihilist was shocked by these words,
And realized he did not know either.
So he began to believe.

And the two Believers
Were thenceforth strangers.

_____________________
Poem 11

The film keeps running.
An old artifact,
Seen rarely by the human eye.
The master, Projectionist, only
Fiddles with it when necessary.
But when he does, he does so with a smile.

The Projectionist knows his time has come,
Time to say good-bye...
Once his job was always and forever,
But now the world no longer needs him.

The master started the film for one last go,
And let the reels work their magic.
This time, He only watched.
Jittery, grainy, and out of focus.
But, hey, c'est la vie.

The Projectionist died in his sleep,
Leaving the film's run incomplete.
The final reel set ablaze
By his negligence.
But he was no longer needed.
The world was over anyway.
So burst the film, so burst our lives.

____________________________
Poem 12

And then came the sun.
With all of its power,
It arrived at the anointed hour;
He had promised to bring some fun.
Sadly, he could bring none.
This left everyone sour,
Left alone to be dour.
What caused the sun to run?
Perhaps it was us,
And our bittersweet romance with the moon.
More respect for the light of the sun is a must,
Our love for it must grow soon.
Moon, I emplore you to run away so that my lust
For you will go away, becoming moot.

(there's supposed to be syllable count rules for sonnets. I forgot when writing this.)

_________________________
Poem 13

She was alone that day...
I could have stopped her
From taking the plunge.

Her inner darkness revealed,
I ran away in fear.
Knowing not that it would
Forever live on in my conscience.

Damn you, Devil Woman.
Damn you and your charms.
Your pretensions and tricks
Left me in more than lust.
Oh no, it was love!

So sets the sun,
So fell her from the cliffs.
Ending our love,
Ending her life.

____________
Poem 14

The end of testing.
Pencils fly - up in the sky!
Higher than a bird, higher than a plane,
Even higher than Superman.

Youthful joy at summer,
Ready for the funner times.

An innocence that escapes adults.
Oh! To be free of the lust of sexuality,
To be free of worry,
To be free of Time.

For yes, a child knows not Time in summer.
Just that it is there for him to bask in the sun.
True freedom lies not in ability to work
For a break,
But the ability to forget.

In some ways, a child's freedom
Exceeds ours by far.
A heavenly level of euphoria,
Only reached again in death.
Constant throughout summer, whether June or August.

As summer ends,
the child's freedom returns
to an earthly plane.
The pencils float back to their desks like feathers;
leaving the children to write their abcs, with the precision of a machine.

The machine that, come next summer, they will once again escape....
For some, the last time.

__________________
Poem 15

He is a knight of the night.
The downtown predator,
Who fears nothing and no one.
Reckless abandon;
No more worries.
His time of reckoning
will come sooner than yours.

And you will know when it does.

___________________________
Poem 16

A mother and son at a disconnect.
"You've ruined my life," they both cry dismayed.
Never able to listen to the other.
The son quieter than the mother,
Until he sees what's in her glass.

A father, lost in the conflict,
Who gave up many years ago.
He's seen enough - this isn't his first.
"I'm tired," he says, and walks outside
For his cigarette of the night.
Not out of addiction, but out of habit.
The big picture is lost on him,
As the little details ensnare his attention
And trap his mind.
It is those that cause him to fight.

The mother.
Beastly only just a year ago,
Bigger than her house.
Defeated now.  Resentment built.
Deathly pale, and skinny to boot.
She's tired, too, but never gives up.
For the fights with others are more important
Than the fight to stay alive.
She has others that will take care of her
Until she kills herself by her vices.
There is no angel of mercy powerful enough to save her.

A son, conflicted.
His worries fall on deaf ears.
His conflicts escalate.
The only thing he has left to do:
write this story
So that others may understand.

Oh My!

It appears as though I've slacked off on my Lent agreement.  What a shame.  It's time to catch up, by writing a super amount of poems in one night!

Btw, Spring Break.  I've mostly slept it away and am now frantically catching up on work.  It's a sad existence, college life... etc.

Poem 4

What's this?
A mystery?
A bon-afide mysterious event?

No!
They said they died out a millennia ago.
The movies took away all the wonder, they said.
But yet there it is!

I saw a future
That only left me with questions.
My future.
Is it so that our life is mystery
In of ourself?
Is magic a lie?

I guess only They know.

____________________
Poem 5

When He returned nothing was the same.
Forever is a long time, after all.
He was promised rags to riches that come with age,
But instead went from riches to rags.

Old times long forgotten
Were still as new to He.
And as he told them as stories,
The memories began to take form.

And then the memories that had taken form
Would only lose their meaning;
For in becoming legend,
Personal significance was lost.

He sighed, and left to the real world.
Such is the fate of grown-ups.

_____________
Poem 6

Oh boy! Oh boy!
The time is drawing near.

Oh boy!  Oh boy!
It's all becoming clear.

Oh my! Oh my!
What reason's there to sigh?

Oh my!  Oh my!
I'm really, really high.

___________
Poem 7

A salute I propose
To the man lost out there.

Lost to the ways of others,
Confined to his own space;
He knows not how to compare,
For he has little time to spare.

Out there one finds only greed;
And yet, he finds that it could be a need.
Without greed, said he,
Where would the world be?

Such logic makes too much sense.
And, with that, the man vanished.
Consumed by his greed, it was everything
He was in need of.

Here's to you, sir.

______________
Poem 8

The day is done.
When all's gone quiet,
I wake.
I slither through corridors,
Sidle across roofs.
Slide down drainage poles,
Slip in the slime.

Through the streets I creep
To wait for my friends.
But where are they?
I cannot say.

There they are, together.
Without me.
The night ends.

Another night comes.
Tonight, I do more than creep.
I strike.
To those whom abandone me,
I pay my respects...
Only to tell them to Greet Death.

And only in my mind does this Memory Play exist.
Another time,
Another place.

____________
Poem 9

Rain
Rain
Rain

Droplets of memories
That fall from the sky.

Even when we catch them,
They remain private.
For they contain both tears
And dreams...
Too personal
For their owners to keep.

I, however, can see.
For I am A Dreamer.
I see the Dreams.
The tears remain a mystery,
As they should.

But perhaps a Crier could read them.

day 3

i'm home!
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poem 3

Time, time, time.
You think you're so special.
Who gives you the right to rule?
Was it God?  Mankind?
Why have you been deemed so important?

I denounce you and your evils.
You who take away those precious to us,
You who make us grow old,
You who allow tragedy.

Time, Time, Time.
A great concept
That became a lost opportunity.
Were you to disappear,
Would we miss you?
Only you would know,
For only Time would tell.

day 2

Going home tomorrow for spring break.  Yay!
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Poem 2

Move away, Move away,
Move Away.
Move with the sun,
And become a contradiction.
Make others move for you,
Though they do not know it.