Punch me in the gut.
Pinch my arm.
Slap me in the face.
Tell me to wake up,
Cause i could live in a dream without being phased from any alarm (significant or not)
So don't let what's good pass me by. I've let it go before without even waving goodbye.
Yell in my ear.
Kick me in the shin.
Call me out.
Stop me from yawning
this hesitation is just a front.
It's how i am.
extremely blunt.
This delay is not intended
it's how i am
open ended
This silence isn't what i mean
it's how i am
in between
20091103
Soon A Memory
Autumn soon a memory
Aged trees with falling leaves
How I’ll miss you when you’re gone from me
Tagged with thoughts tracing back 15 years
Reminding of that which can bring me to tears
A scene of beauty, what an impact it has
To last so long, long after it’s passed
I’ll wait around another 12 months
The feelings will all return at once
But now it’s sad to see them fade
Autumn shows me too much decay.
Still, I’ll wait when gone from me
With Autumn in my reverie
Aged trees with falling leaves
How I’ll miss you when you’re gone from me
Tagged with thoughts tracing back 15 years
Reminding of that which can bring me to tears
A scene of beauty, what an impact it has
To last so long, long after it’s passed
I’ll wait around another 12 months
The feelings will all return at once
But now it’s sad to see them fade
Autumn shows me too much decay.
Still, I’ll wait when gone from me
With Autumn in my reverie
20091102
The Dull Blades of Ennui
Empty thoughts in menagerie
This lonely view stabbing me
It's all i seem to see these days
Photos I'd like to throw away.
and what a sad point of view. When your camera only captures images that are unsatisfactory to your eyes. Is it the lens or is it the photographer? Maybe it's all about location. And i can't remember the last time i created a photo album and smiled at the result. There's always something missing. Or perhaps too much of something. There's too much and too much missing all at once. And cameras only have one lens so I know I'm directly accountable for what these pictures come out as and the order they are taken. It's all on me. Is it ennui i detect? Ennui my friend, only because it stops by so often. Is it this dull blade? Dull blades nudging me isn't enough. I can't help it, I like blades that cut. Death in 2 ways. Bleeding too much or never having bled. I'm hungry for wholeness, yet not being fed.
Hang on. Hurry now. A still moment arrives. Is this not good lighting? Take the picture before it slips. But, Oh how my hands are shaking and sweating and no, no i can't take this picture. I'm afraid this will bring the same effect as the rest of the scrapbook. If needed I'll take it but don't let me look. Don't let me look. Whatever you do, don't let me look.
Silence. Teeth clenched. Face tense and my head heavy as stones.
click...
again.
What a sad routine. Modes of melancholy return.
What should i dislike and for what should i yearn?
from picture to picture i never seem to learn.
and there's this clamor of advice in my ear: The deepest sadness is one that no one can see but yourself. One that's inexplicable. Not in words. Not with colors. Not through feel or smell or taste. Telling it's tale won't release it. Nor will hearing it.
Don't let me look. Whatever you do, don't let me look.
Empty thoughts in menagerie
This lonely view stabbing me
It's all i seem to do these days
Throw photos i don't want away.
This lonely view stabbing me
It's all i seem to see these days
Photos I'd like to throw away.
and what a sad point of view. When your camera only captures images that are unsatisfactory to your eyes. Is it the lens or is it the photographer? Maybe it's all about location. And i can't remember the last time i created a photo album and smiled at the result. There's always something missing. Or perhaps too much of something. There's too much and too much missing all at once. And cameras only have one lens so I know I'm directly accountable for what these pictures come out as and the order they are taken. It's all on me. Is it ennui i detect? Ennui my friend, only because it stops by so often. Is it this dull blade? Dull blades nudging me isn't enough. I can't help it, I like blades that cut. Death in 2 ways. Bleeding too much or never having bled. I'm hungry for wholeness, yet not being fed.
Hang on. Hurry now. A still moment arrives. Is this not good lighting? Take the picture before it slips. But, Oh how my hands are shaking and sweating and no, no i can't take this picture. I'm afraid this will bring the same effect as the rest of the scrapbook. If needed I'll take it but don't let me look. Don't let me look. Whatever you do, don't let me look.
Silence. Teeth clenched. Face tense and my head heavy as stones.
click...
again.
What a sad routine. Modes of melancholy return.
What should i dislike and for what should i yearn?
from picture to picture i never seem to learn.
and there's this clamor of advice in my ear: The deepest sadness is one that no one can see but yourself. One that's inexplicable. Not in words. Not with colors. Not through feel or smell or taste. Telling it's tale won't release it. Nor will hearing it.
Don't let me look. Whatever you do, don't let me look.
Empty thoughts in menagerie
This lonely view stabbing me
It's all i seem to do these days
Throw photos i don't want away.
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