Everybody's got one
Unleash them on the world like blasting shells from a shotgun
Release them on your girl and your relationship is not fun
Relationships
Relationships
Relationships are taking pisses
Faking wishes, forsaking business for quaking kisses
Passionately drowning
Giving power to your future pain
Passively you're counting every single sad mistake I've made
Burn my journals down to dust
Write off all of my emotions
Pop my pimples, wipe the puss
And then moisturize with lotion
Perfect the image of my person
As if I have ever cared
Held up to standards, ever worsen
Finally, suggestions spared
Friday, April 25, 2008
I'd Like to Throw it off
Jealousy, obsession, love, lust & anguish
To throw it all off would be my one wish
Find my inner peace separate from everyone
And never feel again like I've got to get the gun
Run for fun if you want to
You've got no where to run to
Desire follows everywhere
And that's a word that's true
Truth & lying
Peace & violence
All the same as my time commences
Mincing words, hit the dirt
Quick to flirt and hit the skirt
Play the jerk
No other way to play
Unless they call you "gay" today
I've got to say
I'm holding off on scolding first impressions
Unless I want to cause myself an even worse depression
And an even worse obsession
I can't believe I fell this far
The only thing I've left to do is hit the bar
Now its ladies night
It's quite a sight
And everything is right tonight
Or everything is wrong
Put these colored words to song
Take a break for instrumental
Polyrhythmic forces chattering my dentals
Until I
Come back dry
My mind's eye cries as I take a deep breath
Tuck myself in
Roll over in a cold bed
Cold clutching nothing
And that's what I want to throw off
It's the want that leaves me empty
To throw it all off would be my one wish
Find my inner peace separate from everyone
And never feel again like I've got to get the gun
Run for fun if you want to
You've got no where to run to
Desire follows everywhere
And that's a word that's true
Truth & lying
Peace & violence
All the same as my time commences
Mincing words, hit the dirt
Quick to flirt and hit the skirt
Play the jerk
No other way to play
Unless they call you "gay" today
I've got to say
I'm holding off on scolding first impressions
Unless I want to cause myself an even worse depression
And an even worse obsession
I can't believe I fell this far
The only thing I've left to do is hit the bar
Now its ladies night
It's quite a sight
And everything is right tonight
Or everything is wrong
Put these colored words to song
Take a break for instrumental
Polyrhythmic forces chattering my dentals
Until I
Come back dry
My mind's eye cries as I take a deep breath
Tuck myself in
Roll over in a cold bed
Cold clutching nothing
And that's what I want to throw off
It's the want that leaves me empty
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Notes on Change
I'm not involved to increase my influence, serve my own interest, or change things for me. I'm not vocal to hear myself talk, or because those who hear me care. I don't vote because I want to, I vote because I have to. I speak the truth for its own sake, and I stand up for what is right because I must. I become involved because I am compelled to do all I can for the cause of liberty and justice for all. This concern is not a youthful phase or a self-righteous hobby. It is the necessity of anyone who loves life and the freedoms afforded to us by our creator, and ever encroached upon by man.
My actions must reflect my requests of God. If I plead with him to remove a parasite, yet I willingly feed it daily, how can I expect my prayer to be answered? In my actions, I serve Satan in his continuing stranglehold of my will. Only Jesus can break the chains of sin. Only I can allow him to.
My actions must reflect my requests of God. If I plead with him to remove a parasite, yet I willingly feed it daily, how can I expect my prayer to be answered? In my actions, I serve Satan in his continuing stranglehold of my will. Only Jesus can break the chains of sin. Only I can allow him to.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Taking Inventory
This evening at 5:47 PM, my father called me and asked where I was. "Hannibal." I said matter-of-factly.
"Hannibal?" he asked, sounding somewhat confused.
I was at a loss as to why there would be any confusion as to where I was. After all, I do go to school in Hannibal, I had told my parents I would be coming home that night, and it isn't unusual for me to get home much later than 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening. "Yeah," I said, "why do you ask?"
"Oh! Well, there's just this bag of clothes and video games out on the front porch that's labeled 'N's Stuff' and we thought you had dropped it off and drove away somewhere in your car."
As unlikely as that turn of events would seem, I don't blame them for being a bit confused at the whole thing. When I heard about the bag, I thought for a few seconds and then let out a couple of high-pitched laughs, "Ah, ***** must have brought that by."
I admonished my dad to bring the bag out of the rain and told him I would take care of it when I got home. After hanging up, I laughed nervously for a bit and then breathed deeply. I breathed the way I do whenever I'm confronted with anything having to do with my ex-girlfriend. My heart started beating faster and I became a little light-headed and sat down for a moment. A bit more eager to pack up and get on the hump toward home, I put on some MF Doom (A Hip-Hop artist from New York who always wears a mask) and threw every remembered necessity in my backpack and foldable clothes hamper. On the way home I listened to music like I always do. And because I was driving solo, I was free to sing along loudly. When I'm alone, I try to pick songs that will push my range so that somehow I might improve my singing. This isn't hard to do. The familiar drive from Hannibal to O'Fallon was lit up by sunlight filtered through a thick blanket of ominous blue-grey clouds. It didn't rain, and the view was beautiful. Every dilapidated farm house that I spotted seemed to fit right in to the overcast scene. As familiar as it is, the drive seemed short. I pulled into the driveway backwards, locked my awesome manual locks and headed toward the house. Walking up to the front door, I noticed actual living grass had begun to poke its way out of the tangled brown mess that a sweltering dry summer had left us last year. When I got in, I greeted my parents and proceeded downstairs to my room where I expected the bag of stuff would be. I turned on the lights and saw the bag leaning against the wall in the corner. It was double-bagged and pull-strung. Two blue plastic bags, the outer one labeled, "N's Stuff". The handwriting looked like her mother's, though I can't be sure. If I was to guess why it was labeled, "N's Stuff" instead of "Nick's Stuff", I'd say it is because whoever wrote it just wanted to abbreviate. However, the thought did cross my mind that maybe it was too difficult to spell out my whole name... Get over yourself and open the bag. (I found out that the inner bag was labeled, "Nick's Stuff" anyway. So much for delusions of emotional distress on the labeler's part). Instead of pulling out the items one at a time like a parent on Christmas morning, I dumped them all out on the floor like a kid on Christmas morning. However, it wasn't Christmas and I had seen all this stuff before. Glancing over it all was the act of looking into a past that I generally try not to think about to avoid emotional stress. I sorted it out... well I really just put it all in a pile. Seeing it all, I reacted like I thought I might. I smiled and cried. Not like I did last fall when my world was seeming to fall apart. I left no giant snot-stains on my pillows, nor did I frighten my mother into thinking I was having a seizure... sorry mom. I just let a few gentle tears come out and went upstairs to grab a vegetarian dinner. When I came back down to my room I decided to take an inventory of what was in the bag. I took up a pen and the small notebook I traded a bottle of Dr. Pepper to my roommate for. I wrote:
***
Inventory
-Wolverine Action figure
-Incredible Hulk action figure
-Oddish Pokemon Plush
-Random Monkey Plush (Gerald)
-Nintendogs Plush
-Spiderman Action figure
-Oscar Wilde book (Various)
-Bernard Shaw book (Candida)
-2 Astonishing X-Men Trade paperbacks
-1 High School ID card
-Pokemon FireRed (GBA)
-Pokemon LeafGreen (GBA)
-Gameboy Advance SP
-2 Hannibal LaGrange T-shirts
-1 "Pick A Winner" T-shirt
-Writer's Anonymous Hoodie
-Toys R Us grabber
-Concert T-shirt
-Brian Jacques Book (Redwall)
-Missouri Hunter Education badge
***
As I wrote the contents of the bag on the graph-paper pages of this small notebook, I realized every item had a story.
-Wolverine Action figure
-Incredible Hulk Action figure
I suppose when I was jotting these down that I capitalized the word "Action" to emphasize that aspect of these figures. These are Marvel Legends Icons made by Toy biz. (Hasbro has since bought the rights to make Marvel Legends action figures and they're not near as good). They are roughly 12 inches high, have over 40 points of articulation and are incredibly well detailed as far as the paint goes. One night, she and I were at Toys R Us. At the time I still worked there, so I was showing her the cool new action figures we had gotten in recently. The one I showed her was a 12 inch Marvel Legends Icons Captain America figure (unmasked variant). "That's cool," she said, "I'm not a big fan of action figures, but these are cool." I concurred. Over the period of a few months we ended up buying five figures in the series for ourselves. They were Captain America, Wolverine, Iron Man, Hulk, and Venom. We also bought a Captain America figure for our friend Zack, because his real name is Stephen Rogers, which also happens to be the name of Captain America. The two figures I got back in the blue bag had been in her possesion as part of a sharing deal we had going with the five we jointly owned.
-Oddish Pokemon plush
This little guy also came from Toys R Us. The story on this is pretty simple. I once told her that she reminded me of "a cute little Oddish". When I saw the plush, I purchased it and mailed it to her with a note.
-Random Monkey Plush (Gerald)
This is another toy bought at Toys R Us. The story on this is pretty complicated. It was bought during somewhat rough time during our relationship. It was in the fall and we had just started going out again the previous spring. During this time we didn't see eachother much and were neither really great "significant others". I asked a coworker and mutual aquaintance of ours to help pick out the toy. She did, though it was the one I was going to get anyway. This particular coworker was one who my girlfriend was convinced I liked quite a bit. I did admit to having a small crush on her at some point, though it was never something I thought at length about. When I brought my girlfriend the plush monkey, she asked me what it was named. "Gerald." I said. She liked Gerald. Over a year later I told her who helped me pick out the toy. She hated Gerald.
-Nintendogs Plush
Another toy I got her from Toys R Us while she was attending University in Missouri.
-Spiderman Action figure
This figure was bartered from my friend Dan whom I went with to the Wizard World Convention in Chicago, Illinois. It was a 6-inch scale Marvel Legends figure that came with a piece of a larger build-a-figure. Unfortunately when she found out it wasn't the "whole thing" she expressed some dissatisfaction.
-Oscar Wilde book (Various)
-Bernard Shaw book (Candida)
These are two books I had left over from one of my literature classes at Hannibal LaGrange College. I let her borrow them shortly after the school year. I'm not sure if she read them.
-2 Astonishing X-Men Trade paperbacks
A couple of trades I picked up at the Wizard World convention. She had them for a long time.
-1 High School ID card
For the life of me, I can't figure out why she would keep this. I guess it was just there so she stuck it in the bag. There are any number of reasons to explain why she had this. I lost those things all the time.
-Pokemon FireRed (GBA)
-Pokemon LeafGreen (GBA)
-Gameboy Advance SP
I had essentially given these to her in hopes I'd get her hooked on video games. As it turns out, she did play them, though I'm currently kicking the habit myself.
-2 Hannibal LaGrange T-shirts
I recieved both of these on seperate occasions as part of test-preparation kits purchased by my mom through the school. I gave them to my girlfriend upon request. (They are pretty neat-looking)
-1 "Pick A Winner" T-shirt
This T-shirt was originally red, with a picture of a man on the front with his hand in his nose. My dad must have thought it was funny because he bought it for me when he and my mom went to Kohl's. Currently, it is more of a faded light-red because of the one time my dad did the laundry... It also happens to be the shirt I was wearing when I kissed my girlfriend for the first time. It was the single most exhillerating experience of my life.
-Writer's Anonymous Hoodie
I designed this hooded sweatshirt for the writing club at my high school. I remember some other members of the club wanted another design that I didn't like put on the back of the hoodie, so I ordered mine without it. I gave it to my girlfriend upon request.
-Toys R Us grabber
Considering how many times she visited me at work, it's no surprise that she ended up with one of these. It's basically a clamp at the end of a stick that closes when you squeeze the handle. It makes a clicking noise that is strangely satisfying. I can recall several instances where this thing was actually used to get stuff out of household crevasses.
-Concert T-shirt
Last summer, my father and brother went to Cornerstone Music Festival for the third year in a row. I wanted to go as well, but was urged not to by my girlfriend because this was going to be during some of the few days she would be in town, as she had moved to live with her dad out of state. Whether or not this was fair, I handled it like quite a jackass and decided that if she was going to make me stay home, I was going to make her feel guilty about it. When my dad got back he gave me this t-shirt. At the time, it was too small for me so I gave it to her. Since then, I've slimmed down a bit and the t-shirt fits a bit better.
-Brian Jacques Book (Redwall)
I ordered this great children's book for her before we broke up. It arrived afterward.
-Missouri Hunter Education badge
I recieved this for completing the easiest semester-long course outside of aerobic walking that was offered at my high school. I kept it in my wallet for a long time until she requested it of me for some sort of patch design she was going to make.
After it had all been accounted for, I let out an easy breath. Thinking back on all of these stories is actually kind of nice. A collection of relics, bundled up and left at my doorstep like an abandoned child, they represent more to me than I thought they might. Regardless of all the mistakes that I've made leading up to this moment, these stories stand alone and innocent. It would be easy to shuffle this stuff back into the big pile and forget about the memories they hold, but what would be the point? Life on earth is a progression of events that eventually lead to death. They can be forgotten, learned from, cherished, or ignored.
Memories will sting if you put them in the corner
Memories will heal if you choose to think them out
Memories will dissapear if other ones replace them
And memories are all that's left when your life's light goes out
I like to think that I've found value in this stuff no matter what happens next. I will meditate on peace and pray for tomorrow.
"Hannibal?" he asked, sounding somewhat confused.
I was at a loss as to why there would be any confusion as to where I was. After all, I do go to school in Hannibal, I had told my parents I would be coming home that night, and it isn't unusual for me to get home much later than 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening. "Yeah," I said, "why do you ask?"
"Oh! Well, there's just this bag of clothes and video games out on the front porch that's labeled 'N's Stuff' and we thought you had dropped it off and drove away somewhere in your car."
As unlikely as that turn of events would seem, I don't blame them for being a bit confused at the whole thing. When I heard about the bag, I thought for a few seconds and then let out a couple of high-pitched laughs, "Ah, ***** must have brought that by."
I admonished my dad to bring the bag out of the rain and told him I would take care of it when I got home. After hanging up, I laughed nervously for a bit and then breathed deeply. I breathed the way I do whenever I'm confronted with anything having to do with my ex-girlfriend. My heart started beating faster and I became a little light-headed and sat down for a moment. A bit more eager to pack up and get on the hump toward home, I put on some MF Doom (A Hip-Hop artist from New York who always wears a mask) and threw every remembered necessity in my backpack and foldable clothes hamper. On the way home I listened to music like I always do. And because I was driving solo, I was free to sing along loudly. When I'm alone, I try to pick songs that will push my range so that somehow I might improve my singing. This isn't hard to do. The familiar drive from Hannibal to O'Fallon was lit up by sunlight filtered through a thick blanket of ominous blue-grey clouds. It didn't rain, and the view was beautiful. Every dilapidated farm house that I spotted seemed to fit right in to the overcast scene. As familiar as it is, the drive seemed short. I pulled into the driveway backwards, locked my awesome manual locks and headed toward the house. Walking up to the front door, I noticed actual living grass had begun to poke its way out of the tangled brown mess that a sweltering dry summer had left us last year. When I got in, I greeted my parents and proceeded downstairs to my room where I expected the bag of stuff would be. I turned on the lights and saw the bag leaning against the wall in the corner. It was double-bagged and pull-strung. Two blue plastic bags, the outer one labeled, "N's Stuff". The handwriting looked like her mother's, though I can't be sure. If I was to guess why it was labeled, "N's Stuff" instead of "Nick's Stuff", I'd say it is because whoever wrote it just wanted to abbreviate. However, the thought did cross my mind that maybe it was too difficult to spell out my whole name... Get over yourself and open the bag. (I found out that the inner bag was labeled, "Nick's Stuff" anyway. So much for delusions of emotional distress on the labeler's part). Instead of pulling out the items one at a time like a parent on Christmas morning, I dumped them all out on the floor like a kid on Christmas morning. However, it wasn't Christmas and I had seen all this stuff before. Glancing over it all was the act of looking into a past that I generally try not to think about to avoid emotional stress. I sorted it out... well I really just put it all in a pile. Seeing it all, I reacted like I thought I might. I smiled and cried. Not like I did last fall when my world was seeming to fall apart. I left no giant snot-stains on my pillows, nor did I frighten my mother into thinking I was having a seizure... sorry mom. I just let a few gentle tears come out and went upstairs to grab a vegetarian dinner. When I came back down to my room I decided to take an inventory of what was in the bag. I took up a pen and the small notebook I traded a bottle of Dr. Pepper to my roommate for. I wrote:
***
Inventory
-Wolverine Action figure
-Incredible Hulk action figure
-Oddish Pokemon Plush
-Random Monkey Plush (Gerald)
-Nintendogs Plush
-Spiderman Action figure
-Oscar Wilde book (Various)
-Bernard Shaw book (Candida)
-2 Astonishing X-Men Trade paperbacks
-1 High School ID card
-Pokemon FireRed (GBA)
-Pokemon LeafGreen (GBA)
-Gameboy Advance SP
-2 Hannibal LaGrange T-shirts
-1 "Pick A Winner" T-shirt
-Writer's Anonymous Hoodie
-Toys R Us grabber
-Concert T-shirt
-Brian Jacques Book (Redwall)
-Missouri Hunter Education badge
***
As I wrote the contents of the bag on the graph-paper pages of this small notebook, I realized every item had a story.
-Wolverine Action figure
-Incredible Hulk Action figure
I suppose when I was jotting these down that I capitalized the word "Action" to emphasize that aspect of these figures. These are Marvel Legends Icons made by Toy biz. (Hasbro has since bought the rights to make Marvel Legends action figures and they're not near as good). They are roughly 12 inches high, have over 40 points of articulation and are incredibly well detailed as far as the paint goes. One night, she and I were at Toys R Us. At the time I still worked there, so I was showing her the cool new action figures we had gotten in recently. The one I showed her was a 12 inch Marvel Legends Icons Captain America figure (unmasked variant). "That's cool," she said, "I'm not a big fan of action figures, but these are cool." I concurred. Over the period of a few months we ended up buying five figures in the series for ourselves. They were Captain America, Wolverine, Iron Man, Hulk, and Venom. We also bought a Captain America figure for our friend Zack, because his real name is Stephen Rogers, which also happens to be the name of Captain America. The two figures I got back in the blue bag had been in her possesion as part of a sharing deal we had going with the five we jointly owned.
-Oddish Pokemon plush
This little guy also came from Toys R Us. The story on this is pretty simple. I once told her that she reminded me of "a cute little Oddish". When I saw the plush, I purchased it and mailed it to her with a note.
-Random Monkey Plush (Gerald)
This is another toy bought at Toys R Us. The story on this is pretty complicated. It was bought during somewhat rough time during our relationship. It was in the fall and we had just started going out again the previous spring. During this time we didn't see eachother much and were neither really great "significant others". I asked a coworker and mutual aquaintance of ours to help pick out the toy. She did, though it was the one I was going to get anyway. This particular coworker was one who my girlfriend was convinced I liked quite a bit. I did admit to having a small crush on her at some point, though it was never something I thought at length about. When I brought my girlfriend the plush monkey, she asked me what it was named. "Gerald." I said. She liked Gerald. Over a year later I told her who helped me pick out the toy. She hated Gerald.
-Nintendogs Plush
Another toy I got her from Toys R Us while she was attending University in Missouri.
-Spiderman Action figure
This figure was bartered from my friend Dan whom I went with to the Wizard World Convention in Chicago, Illinois. It was a 6-inch scale Marvel Legends figure that came with a piece of a larger build-a-figure. Unfortunately when she found out it wasn't the "whole thing" she expressed some dissatisfaction.
-Oscar Wilde book (Various)
-Bernard Shaw book (Candida)
These are two books I had left over from one of my literature classes at Hannibal LaGrange College. I let her borrow them shortly after the school year. I'm not sure if she read them.
-2 Astonishing X-Men Trade paperbacks
A couple of trades I picked up at the Wizard World convention. She had them for a long time.
-1 High School ID card
For the life of me, I can't figure out why she would keep this. I guess it was just there so she stuck it in the bag. There are any number of reasons to explain why she had this. I lost those things all the time.
-Pokemon FireRed (GBA)
-Pokemon LeafGreen (GBA)
-Gameboy Advance SP
I had essentially given these to her in hopes I'd get her hooked on video games. As it turns out, she did play them, though I'm currently kicking the habit myself.
-2 Hannibal LaGrange T-shirts
I recieved both of these on seperate occasions as part of test-preparation kits purchased by my mom through the school. I gave them to my girlfriend upon request. (They are pretty neat-looking)
-1 "Pick A Winner" T-shirt
This T-shirt was originally red, with a picture of a man on the front with his hand in his nose. My dad must have thought it was funny because he bought it for me when he and my mom went to Kohl's. Currently, it is more of a faded light-red because of the one time my dad did the laundry... It also happens to be the shirt I was wearing when I kissed my girlfriend for the first time. It was the single most exhillerating experience of my life.
-Writer's Anonymous Hoodie
I designed this hooded sweatshirt for the writing club at my high school. I remember some other members of the club wanted another design that I didn't like put on the back of the hoodie, so I ordered mine without it. I gave it to my girlfriend upon request.
-Toys R Us grabber
Considering how many times she visited me at work, it's no surprise that she ended up with one of these. It's basically a clamp at the end of a stick that closes when you squeeze the handle. It makes a clicking noise that is strangely satisfying. I can recall several instances where this thing was actually used to get stuff out of household crevasses.
-Concert T-shirt
Last summer, my father and brother went to Cornerstone Music Festival for the third year in a row. I wanted to go as well, but was urged not to by my girlfriend because this was going to be during some of the few days she would be in town, as she had moved to live with her dad out of state. Whether or not this was fair, I handled it like quite a jackass and decided that if she was going to make me stay home, I was going to make her feel guilty about it. When my dad got back he gave me this t-shirt. At the time, it was too small for me so I gave it to her. Since then, I've slimmed down a bit and the t-shirt fits a bit better.
-Brian Jacques Book (Redwall)
I ordered this great children's book for her before we broke up. It arrived afterward.
-Missouri Hunter Education badge
I recieved this for completing the easiest semester-long course outside of aerobic walking that was offered at my high school. I kept it in my wallet for a long time until she requested it of me for some sort of patch design she was going to make.
After it had all been accounted for, I let out an easy breath. Thinking back on all of these stories is actually kind of nice. A collection of relics, bundled up and left at my doorstep like an abandoned child, they represent more to me than I thought they might. Regardless of all the mistakes that I've made leading up to this moment, these stories stand alone and innocent. It would be easy to shuffle this stuff back into the big pile and forget about the memories they hold, but what would be the point? Life on earth is a progression of events that eventually lead to death. They can be forgotten, learned from, cherished, or ignored.
Memories will sting if you put them in the corner
Memories will heal if you choose to think them out
Memories will dissapear if other ones replace them
And memories are all that's left when your life's light goes out
I like to think that I've found value in this stuff no matter what happens next. I will meditate on peace and pray for tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
From Queen to Son
This is just a little exercise I thought I might try out.
The two accounts read perfectly well individually.
Also, you can take the odd lines of one and the even lines of the other to form a poem.
So, four poems in all; two free-verse and two with a paired-off rhyme scheme and not much rhythm...
The two accounts read perfectly well individually.
Also, you can take the odd lines of one and the even lines of the other to form a poem.
So, four poems in all; two free-verse and two with a paired-off rhyme scheme and not much rhythm...
Monday, April 14, 2008
Son of Perdition
1 A horse and buggy clop and clack down the cobblestone street
2 A young lad is working even before the day starts
3 He's mussed and dirty from shoveling slop in the filthy pig stye
4 He hangs his head in a regretful bow of inferiority
5 His wrists are covered up by leather sleeves that to his forearms reach
6 His hair hangs heavy, weighted by the morning dew
7 His world is miles away from the bickering of parliament
8 His countenance is sickly and his skin is pale and spotty
9 The boy wants nothing more than to be at peace within
10 His life's encapsulated in a hut by the creek
11 He wishes he was brighter and he wishes he was stronger
12 From the jaws of emptiness he needs greatly to be saved
13 No song could ever build his will
14 No strength could lift him up
15 No righteous deed could his guilt still
16 No hope could fill his cup
17 He needs a light to lift his sighs
18 He's in need of forgiveness for he has no excuse
19 He's in need of a beast, his burdens to bear
20 He needs a comforter, a keeper, a home
21 He runs from the harvest he surely will reap
22 He runs from the light and heads straight to hell's gate
2 A young lad is working even before the day starts
3 He's mussed and dirty from shoveling slop in the filthy pig stye
4 He hangs his head in a regretful bow of inferiority
5 His wrists are covered up by leather sleeves that to his forearms reach
6 His hair hangs heavy, weighted by the morning dew
7 His world is miles away from the bickering of parliament
8 His countenance is sickly and his skin is pale and spotty
9 The boy wants nothing more than to be at peace within
10 His life's encapsulated in a hut by the creek
11 He wishes he was brighter and he wishes he was stronger
12 From the jaws of emptiness he needs greatly to be saved
13 No song could ever build his will
14 No strength could lift him up
15 No righteous deed could his guilt still
16 No hope could fill his cup
17 He needs a light to lift his sighs
18 He's in need of forgiveness for he has no excuse
19 He's in need of a beast, his burdens to bear
20 He needs a comforter, a keeper, a home
21 He runs from the harvest he surely will reap
22 He runs from the light and heads straight to hell's gate
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Queen of Perdition (The Queen and the Son)
1 A trumpet sounds and curtains part
2 A royal figure is laid out upon satin sheets
3 She is voluptuous and tan with an air of superiority
4 Her eyes are like clouded jewels that reflect a stormy desert sky
5 Her hair flows like an infant stream, carrying the purest of brown hue
6 To see her lips is like tasting a crisp ripened peach
7 She is adorned with jewelery that falls across her body
8 And while they are more costly than the finest treasures of Solomon,
9 Her finery does no justice to the perfection of her physique
10 Her beauty blazes bright from a pyre beneath her skin
11 Her words echo throughout the gilded halls and into the ears of a thousand slaves
12 Each one is quick to do her bidding and struggles to look upon her
13 No man could ever hope to comprehend her
14 No artisan could ever hope to capture her
15 No army could ever hope to destroy her
16 She is beauty itself and holds all at attention
17 Her bidding is impossible for mortals to refuse
18 Yet her way is destruction and she speaks only lies
19 Yet her words are like daggers and she always sleeps alone
20 Yet her beauty is a guillotine and her fragrance a snare
21 Yet her path leads to loneliness, bitterness, and hate
22 She lives without life and dreams without sleep
2 A royal figure is laid out upon satin sheets
3 She is voluptuous and tan with an air of superiority
4 Her eyes are like clouded jewels that reflect a stormy desert sky
5 Her hair flows like an infant stream, carrying the purest of brown hue
6 To see her lips is like tasting a crisp ripened peach
7 She is adorned with jewelery that falls across her body
8 And while they are more costly than the finest treasures of Solomon,
9 Her finery does no justice to the perfection of her physique
10 Her beauty blazes bright from a pyre beneath her skin
11 Her words echo throughout the gilded halls and into the ears of a thousand slaves
12 Each one is quick to do her bidding and struggles to look upon her
13 No man could ever hope to comprehend her
14 No artisan could ever hope to capture her
15 No army could ever hope to destroy her
16 She is beauty itself and holds all at attention
17 Her bidding is impossible for mortals to refuse
18 Yet her way is destruction and she speaks only lies
19 Yet her words are like daggers and she always sleeps alone
20 Yet her beauty is a guillotine and her fragrance a snare
21 Yet her path leads to loneliness, bitterness, and hate
22 She lives without life and dreams without sleep
Monday, April 7, 2008
Compelled
I am a man who lives and works in solitude
Tending gardens, praying for the destitute
I wear a simple habit and two simply fashioned sandals
And spend my nights reading by the light of a wax candle
The monastery's always been a home to me
I've never wondered how it might otherwise be
I keep a friendly feline I've named Randall
We spend our night sitting by the light of a wax candle
And I feed him
And I read to him
But he doesn't know the stories that I tell
In the garden
I beg God's pardon
And to a deeper life I often feel compelled
One day I walked into the town to get supplies
And as I strolled I turned and saw, to my surprise
An invalid who had no place to call his own
I asked and found that he was all alone
I took the man to a corner store and bought him food
And to the tailor who could fix his tattered suit
He told me of his life and how he made his ends
I told him of my solitude and feline friend
How I feed him
How I read to him
But he doesn't know the stories that I tell
How in the garden
I beg God's pardon
And to a deeper life I often feel compelled
Taking my sack, I started home and bid "goodbye"
He thanked me for the help I gave and then began to cry
I saw in him a need that I knew must be felled
That night I prayed to God and felt compelled
We live together now inside a humble cottage
I share my various recipes of warm pottage
Meeting the need of this friend I found, I am content
A deeper life, my God has finally sent
And I feed him
And I read to him
And he's thankful for the stories that I tell
When people ask
Why I had to act
My answer is that I had felt compelled
Tending gardens, praying for the destitute
I wear a simple habit and two simply fashioned sandals
And spend my nights reading by the light of a wax candle
The monastery's always been a home to me
I've never wondered how it might otherwise be
I keep a friendly feline I've named Randall
We spend our night sitting by the light of a wax candle
And I feed him
And I read to him
But he doesn't know the stories that I tell
In the garden
I beg God's pardon
And to a deeper life I often feel compelled
One day I walked into the town to get supplies
And as I strolled I turned and saw, to my surprise
An invalid who had no place to call his own
I asked and found that he was all alone
I took the man to a corner store and bought him food
And to the tailor who could fix his tattered suit
He told me of his life and how he made his ends
I told him of my solitude and feline friend
How I feed him
How I read to him
But he doesn't know the stories that I tell
How in the garden
I beg God's pardon
And to a deeper life I often feel compelled
Taking my sack, I started home and bid "goodbye"
He thanked me for the help I gave and then began to cry
I saw in him a need that I knew must be felled
That night I prayed to God and felt compelled
We live together now inside a humble cottage
I share my various recipes of warm pottage
Meeting the need of this friend I found, I am content
A deeper life, my God has finally sent
And I feed him
And I read to him
And he's thankful for the stories that I tell
When people ask
Why I had to act
My answer is that I had felt compelled
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
RE: "makeup"
I've had at least one person contact me about this poem because they were concerned about who this poem was about.
"makeup", like many other poems is only a picture, not a portrait. It describes a girl overcome by image to the point of losing identity. This is not about a specific person. As insulting as it would be if it were, I wouldn't have posted it if it were about a specific person. I can see where there would be confusion considering some of the language used, but the narrator in this one is NOT me. It's a voice that tells the story.
-Nick Hibbeler
"makeup", like many other poems is only a picture, not a portrait. It describes a girl overcome by image to the point of losing identity. This is not about a specific person. As insulting as it would be if it were, I wouldn't have posted it if it were about a specific person. I can see where there would be confusion considering some of the language used, but the narrator in this one is NOT me. It's a voice that tells the story.
-Nick Hibbeler
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