Thursday, March 31, 2005

An old friend

Buried us both,
in the midst of pain.
All thoughts and laughs and our appeal,
a coward's call for help.
Then disguise,
and hermit in your shadow,
of all the things you've gathered,
and raveled into hell.
The place you spoke of with dread,
with pale cheeks and stern lips.
The dark you most deserve,
where memories are dreaded,
and future is as far as headlights expose.
Self-inflicted mistakes pump throughout your lifeless limbs,
and keep you human.
Veiled and mysterious,
but all too clear.
You are now your pain,
and your shadow is you.
No intention to care.
Face the dark which trails you,
which guides you.
Dark can't survive,
in the presence of light.

Monday, March 21, 2005

it's 3:10 a.m. and my Words are up

I have words. To express myself I have words. There are more words. More than words are my ideas that become words. My words are gifts to ... My thoughts are now words. My feelings are alive in words. My actions are thoughts that feel that become words. My words name it. Words are pictures of the brave. Words are names for it. Words are meanings for the unknowing. Words make it simple for the simple. Words are the providence of wisdom and the rhyme of the plain. Words are the interruptions on the white space.
One word weeps
while wistful wants
and waiting whiles away
what was
Once
was no words.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Not So Spring Break

Here I am on the 2nd night of spring break, at home, sick, and blogging! Hah! I watched "What the bleep do we know" and I think that it was so fascinating! I think if you're bored during this break, rent it. Enjoy your break! We really deserved this... especially period 5 after all the hard work we've done.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Witnessing a conversation

dropping an ear, ignoring existence, viewing the world of constant repitition. rivalry of experimenting verse tradition. a magnified eye to simplify the picture. a repetition of sound to detail conversation. a novel of questions, without a true incentive. an effort to get your foot in the door, with personal information. to know their deep ends of motivation, only to reap benefits. identifying nature through reputation. misleading judgment by simple instructions. conflicting status with spirit, and each has their own addition.

An older piece. Eh...

I walked in the dry cold, a cold found in Fall. A cold that runs too deep. Like the days I'd follow you home. I'd question if I should be there, I'd wonder if I care. I'd feel the cold of uncertainty, travel throughout my body. I'd shiver. I'd endure the warmth beside me, as I pressed my cold nose against your face, the overwhelming heat made me close my eyes. I lie. Only to myself. I love the walls around me, your hand's friction on my arms. You kept me warm. I'd leave. The cold never failed to burn. You weren't meant to keep me warm. You kept me pleased and deceived.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

the electric kool-aid post

Well leyba here I am posting...
so ha!

I do miss creative writing, it was a sweet class.
I hardly write anymore, let alone write creatively.

yup thats about it for the random post



except for this......
i highly recommend you click on this
its sweet
i mean come on....
would scuba josh lie?!?!

http://jotohe.hp.infoseek.co.jp/num20xxxxxx.swf

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Romance... Isn't welcome here.

Im waiting here because I want to save you.
I want to let you inside my head and let you devour me like chocolate cake so you can remember what it felt like to eat it with your hands. I want to love you when the music isn't playing anymore. I want to find you in a sandbox.

I don't know anything about you stranger, except what your lips look like when they are cold and cracked. They mirror me like they know what they are doing. I cant love you but I wish I could. I'm on empty.

You aren't nothing, but I see the way you look at empty vases. Can't always wish there were flowers in them. I want to let you cut me open and examine my insides for a consensus on why my heart aches when our foreheads aren't close and our eyes aren't broken... Stuck on one another like we'd forgotten them there.

But I can't cause sometimes I remember.

Experiments With Truth

As I leave this room I enter
the sorting halls dividing walls
separate lots beautiful people spots
I mingle with the other tribes
whose vibes are humming not with
mine they move in pods and weave
through clique group circle loners
defensive headphones protective cell
phones start wait stop period tones
they move without contact behind
the fit-in mask and cool act
upholding image and reputation
holding breath daylong
during chameleon drills speaking
of individuality at the altar
of conformity
I
wait to
enter this room

Monday, March 07, 2005

what Mr. Bishop was really drawing on the board 2nd hour

The scene is set almost as if taken straight from a picture. A perfect picture which you would see gracing the cover of an outdoor magazine, or a post card which you would send to a homesick friend. The small, humble town is backed by an endless mountain range. Each mountain is capped with a hint of snowing, further enhancing the perfect scene. The slight sound of a jet engine blends graciously with the sweet sound of an early spring day. The only noise that breaks the mold of the wholesome town is the sound of horn, honking at a dog crossing the street. The car is traveling very fast, and seems to also be out of the ordinary along with the noise it expelled. The town seems happy, happy but with a secret.
Mr. Domend walks slowly from one house to another, making sure to stay within the limits of the sidewalk. God forbid the hauntingly green grace would feel the embrace of a shoe-covered foot. God forbid perfection is corrupted. The town seems to have transformed from a wholesome feeling, to a tragic almost homely feel. The picture seems to be to perfect to be true, and everyone seems to have a secret. Shari Grace waters the only yellow spot in her yard. It’s hidden, to the side of the house. Back behind the juniper bushes; back where no one can see. It’s strange how only two days after the disappearance of her husband, a yellow spot, no more then 6 feet by 6 feet appears, diluting the substance to which all thought to be perfect. But other discrepancies are appearing. The once wholesome neighborhood has now been invaded with by an evil secret, which no one intends to look into. The picture is to perfect to be true, but all those within, refuse to let this information out.
The members of the community follow along with their day to day lives. Donnie and Marc stand on the corner, continuing their daily routine of passing the ball. The wind is blowing slightly, and the sun bakes the earth to the perfect temperature. All seems well in this picture, but the truth is hidden within the souls of each and every person who lives there. They know the truth. They know exactly where Mr. Grace disappeared to, but they know damn well that this problem is far more breathtaking then anything they have ever encountered.
From a distance, the picture looks perfect. The wholesome town is placed graciously in front of the never-ending snow-capped mountains. The peaceful bliss of an early spring day enthralls the hearts of all who are blessed to have found such a wholesome place to live. The picture seems perfect, but what they don’t know, is that this picture is truly worth a thousand words, but no one will ever be brave enough to tell it.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I could tell you all about yourself...

I could tell you all about yourself... I can tell you don't know yourself, and I can tell you're afraid to dig. I can tell it is a fear of the vast emptiness and what you may discover. There is a part of you that is a victim. You'd rather have your life take you for a ride, than have control over it. But when you have control I can tell it is too hot for you to handle. It burns you everytime. I can tell you yearn for that kind of reality check. But in no way do you learn from it. I can tell you like the negative attention. I can tell it hurts you too. I can tell you want to grow, but you have difficulty letting go. I can tell you all about yourself, things you may not know. I can see beyond your fascade, I can argue for your sake, but I can't honor your lies, for what they're worth is too much. I can tell that you're not as dangerous as the cautions you display. I can tell you want to have someone tell you all about yourself, for it gives you a start on knowing how to mask the truth. I know you all too well.

Leah is here

testing

yEStERYEar