Lotus Fruit – Heatherbird

Filed under: Music

Filed under: Music

closer

almost there.  just a couple more days and it’ll be winter break – sadly that means two more days of math quizzes, chemistry tests, essays and other such spirit-murdering confections of the education system.  Should I lighten up the mood, then?

—

traffic

i often find with peace of mind
comes windows into worlds
traffic stalls the car and yellow
orbs of light – they – bouncing curl

my artificiality
those walls of private glass
terrain of lovers, long forgot
each in their glassy habitat

content and quiet
left to devices
not their own though
they perceive them so

and i the spectral eye of God
do view them in this
the rawest revelation
of condemning subconscious

—

let’s shine together

I.
30 lines on my page
(still a blank sheet of paper)
my creativity -
stage – whispered.

II.
creamy white
a new invention
of our glittering souls
lit up like holiday windows

III.
do you know?
you are my trimmings

IV.
someone stole your little glass bulbs
and now your coffin is a layer of brown
paper.

V.
but you aren’t useless
to me.

—

perspectives

we all want a little bit of angel in us
but the truth of the matter is
we would not
(in our humanity)
be so content
(as we might think)
to be infinite
and all-knowing
and all-encompassing
and impassively beautiful
for it would bare to us our self-same flaws
and lay waste to our eternity

—

take two

Sad little smile -
For Satan’s sun -
I spent a Decade – end to end -

And thus inside -
The Tale I spun -
Were Those of mice and those of Men.

—

scrap

the impact was like tissue
the most serene of skimming, skinning motions
emotionless

i could not look into the twin eyes
of Death, so bright and cheerful
they blinded me from my Fate

i felt myself suspended
as carriage overturned
in carnage  as we burned
the fire buzzed around me
the fire bees were light

—

blizzard

ice embossed autumn’s
dry husks and brittle corpses
carcasses of fibrous, veiny leaves
that reached their spindly fingers
up through the grown so less than verdant
refusing burial amidst yesterday’s playthings
and the mulch of our memories

Filed under: Life, Poetry

921 – Dickinson Impersonation

My Silence and my Solitude –
Life – daily – takes from me –
By shaking hand or shoe of rice –
Or clockwork iron Key –

As Death has walked His block –
So further will he crawl –
In simple strings of Thought –
More Powerful – He draws!

I marvel – most obscure It is –
That Innocence – so Young –
Is – like the true Oblivion –
The river of His tongue.

Yet stranger still – within –
That Death does Chance to stall –
For but a childish breath –
Is proof enough of God.

The crawling touched my blanchéd bones –
Like tender, loving plea –
Those cold and quiet languages –
That – Empty – speak to me.

Death was quite impartial –
Indifference cast by Age –
His passive movement still –
Unhindered by my passive Rage.

Come near, thou twisted Eloquence –
Permit me give you leave –
And grasp within my fingertips –
Thy ever-stirring Grief –

This I begged to Whisper –
All this I threw at Death –
And he who stops for None –
Did silence when He wept!

He stopped and sank unto the Ground –
And weighed the weight of Words –
Into the Lethe he sunk his cup –
And drank Forgetfulness –

And now my Silence – pouring down –
Over louder pondering Falls –
Has taken up in arms with Death –
My maddened mind it calls!

Filed under: Life, Poetry

are you going to scarborough fair?

Tutoring.  School.  Theater.  Homework.  Sleep.  Wake.  School.  Theater.  Essay.  Sleep.

Need I say more?

It’ll be Christmas soon, though, and I’m very excited.  Sylvia and I took a slew of pictures in an attempt at finding the perfect one for the Arabian Nights poster.  Brian says it’s going to be decidedly somber, but we’ll see.  I love these cloaks so much, they remind me of the Underclassman play two years ago.  In the opening scene, I was a dementor-like creature (we unveiled our characters shortly thereafter and the shadowy cloaks were no more).

I think I would like the new Post Secret book.  It’s such a lovely concept and so sweet of Frank.  I might have to read reviews or something, because there are a lot of them that I love from past books and if the newest one isn’t as good, I might get an older one.

Short post.  I don’t have much else to say and I really need to get some sleep.  Tutoring tomorrow morning.  Yay?

I feel like a ballerina.

Filed under: Life

teriyaki samurai

my little ninja.

Filed under: Life

steel shifted like butter

Filed under: Life

Coffee

this is my guitar, taylor, taking a nap.

This past Friday was our local teen center’s Coffeehouse event.  The rest of the show (and by that, I mean the rest of Heatherbird’s set) can be found here and here.

Filed under: Life, Music

worn out places, worn out faces

I want to go back in time so badly.  Back to the days of Donnie Darko and before certain people moved to Ohio; back to comforters on the lawn and no couples and being invited and honest friendship because whatever this is now, it hurts.

Filed under: Life

how does it feel?

pancakes

they just don’t seem right
they were supposed to be a well-kept secret,
a blossoming tradition, promising;
just for you four

well, now it’s become a group affair
consider it their right

open mic:

who’s next?

Filed under: Life, Poetry

when and where does this “real world” occur?

“They don’t even know what it is to be a fan.  Y’know?  To truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts.”  -Sapphire, Almost Famous

Filed under: Music

mr. tambourine man

bob dylan

though i know that evening’s empire has returned into sand,
vanished from my hand,
left me blindly here to stand,
but still not sleeping.

my weariness amazes me, i’m branded on my feet,
i have no one to meet
and the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming.

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
i’m not sleepy and there is no place i’m going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
in the jingle jangle morning i’ll come followin’ you.

take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship,
my senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip,
my toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
to be wandering.

i’m ready to go anywhere, i’m ready for to fade
into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
i promise to go under it.

though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging
madly across the sun, it’s not aimed at anyone,
it’s just escaping on the run
and but for the sky there are no fences facing.

and if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme
to your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind,
i wouldn’t pay it any mind,
it’s just a shadow that you’re seeing that he’s chasing.

then take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind,
down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
the haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Filed under: Life, Music