Post by Felina on Apr 1, 2008 4:07:28 GMT 3
No, really. Fear it. Fel has some problems, some insane people assigning writers' club prompts, and enjoys writing poetry. More than any normal person should. I'd do some nicer coding for this, so the reading could be more sane, but... I don't feel like doing any of those matrices (or whatever they're supposed to be called... I think it looks like a matrix) for just one post. So.... I'll differentiate by color.
Every day is a series,
Of moments passing by,
Moments with you,
And moments without.
When I’m alone,
The minutes drag,
And each a wait
For the time we spend
Together.
When I’m with you,
I count the seconds,
To try and make time crawl.
But now that I have
Counted all I can,
I forget what it’s all for.
I think I loved you once.
Or perhaps it was a dream.
I try to count the days
As they pass,
But succeed only in
Counting meaningless moments.
You were there the day the world ended,
Standing in your suit, handsome, resplendent.
You were there the day the old gods died,
There to grieve, to tell me don’t cry.
You were there the day the stories failed,
To smile and laugh as away dreams sailed.
You were there the day the system crashed,
Picking up pieces of old data smashed.
You were there the day the blue-green seas boiled,
Sitting serenely as around you waves roiled.
You were there the day fires burned,
Setting back rights wrongly end-over turned.
You were there the day you told me you loved me,
Smiling even as it was plain you could not see.
Because you weren’t there the day I wanted to die.
And now I’m gone, having never said goodbye.
Do you realize all the things we’ve done?
For I am the moon, and you are the sun.
We wreak havoc on a world unsuspecting,
The things that we say burrowing, infesting.
You burn the fires; I’ll move the tides.
You create factions; I’ll make neutrals take sides.
But wait, there’s more!
There’s things we’ve thought but never planned before.
You go to Boston; I’ll go to France
(Hey, look, it’s Luis’s underpants!)
You make machine guns; I’ll make the wars.
You throw grenades; I’ll bomb food stores.
We make all question their sanity,
We destroy pretty, beautiful, vanity.
It’s not for ourselves, these things that we do,
But for the good of the world, I swear it, it’s true!
And if we say it together, the world will never see
The God and the Goddess that we will surely be.
I know that one and one make two,
And two and one make three.
But one and one for me are none,
So far as I can see.
H and O are water,
And N and those are more.
With the three of those together,
Acid's all I've seen before.
The derivative of you plus me,
I know that it is zero.
Together we will constants be,
But you always my hero.
I know it's true; you love me not,
Of that much I am certain.
Between us lies a fence much like,
That age-old Iron Curtain.
Oh, sure I've got the thoughts.
And, sure, I've got the mind.
But always, too, there's something that
I just can't seem to find.
With you I walk with giants.
With you I'm never sane.
With you my thoughts, they never dim
My love, it will not wane.
I'm sorry this is awkward.
I only hope it's right someday.
I'm sorry if it's strange for you,
To know what I feel every day.
I'm sorry you'll forget me.
Don't lie-- I know you will.
I only wish four years from now,
You'd look back and know me still.
There's too much that I am sorry for,
With clumsiness and all.
Every time I see you,
My high hopes begin to fall.
I'm not good enough for you,
For all the goodness that you are.
Always I'm afraid,
That all I am is one black scar.
Sometimes I remember.
The sharp, woody scent of pencil shavings.
The smears of marker on my fingers.
The splatters of paint on the front of my dress.
The crunch of fall leaves under my feet. What it was to laugh.
Sometimes I remember.
The tunnel forts we built under the snow.
The precariousness of the front lawn in winter.
The feeling of having a snowball shoved down my shirt.
The bite of a snowflake on my tongue.
What it was to play.
Sometimes I remember.
The flooding of the fields with snowmelt.
The gritty black mud dripping in my hair.
The trees slowly returning to green.
The joy of baskets on Easter morning.
What it was to live.
Sometimes I remember.
The raindrops skittering across upside-down plastic pools.
The warm sand that stuck between my toes.
The wind that nearly drove me mad.
The bike that wouldn't stay on two wheels.
What it was to know joy.
I think now I've forgotten.
The corn farmers selling their crops at the side of the road.
The giant snowman nearly as high as our roof.
The friend who tried to kiss me that I'll never see again.
The rush of jumping off a swing into a giant pile of leaves.
What it was to remember.
The morning sky changes,
From black to navy to violet to pink to orange,
The traffic light changes,
From green to yellow to red,
And to green to yellow and yet again to red,
That bloody, fluorescent red that eats away at my soul,
Body and mind, my impatient self,
Devoured by the all-encompassing red light.
Time rushes by with the fleetest glimpse,
As the sky changes,
And the traffic light changes,
And never once do the many red lights before me cease.
They blink, stutter, but always are present,
Taunting me,
Tormenting me,
Destroying my impatient self.
They illuminate drumming fingers. They clash with the green of dashboard displays,
Air conditioning and radio and clock,
Those comforts of modern-day life
Do little to offset the glaring red.
Inching forward makes no difference,
For always, always, the light is red.
Soon, too, the sky will be red,
And the sun will be a red semi-circle
Above the black-silhouetted trees.
Quickly enough, all,
Everything that I see,
That I am,
Is red.
Stopped.
Unmoving.
The traffic never changes,
Always and ever,
I am sitting,
Waiting for a change that will never come. Perhaps that is the flaw
Which will destroy mankind.
A stone spire rises,
A needle piercing the sky;
A great eagle screes,
A haunting call to shatter the tranquility;
The river far below burbles,
A song to help it on its way.
The river goes on.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The redwoods soar into nothing,
A long last vision of God;
The many wolves howl,
An eerie reminder of things long gone;
The ocean far off crashes,
A lullaby to put all to sleep.
The ocean reaches far.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The grasses waver in the wind,
A rolling mass of gold;
The deer bound, seen then unseen,
A fragile glimpse of earthly beauty;
The wind rushes over all,
A rustling to match that of the leaves.
The wind marches onward.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The snow-capped peaks tower over all,
An implacable, unchangeable green-flecked barrier;
The owl settles in wind-tossed home,
A queen able to see all her kingdom;
The glacier inches unchangeably down,
Creaking and forcing even mountains to change.
The glacier travels, unstoppable.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The stillness strikes me most of all,
An unbreakable wall of silence;
The moose are still, and quiet,
A huddled bunch waiting for something to happen;
The ice doesn't move,
Sitting ominously, precarious at the edge of the waves.
The ice is still.
As am I.
For I have no more miles to go,
No, never any more.
The darkness is all that's apparent,
An un-yielding smothering soul-sapping darkness;
All is far and distant,
And I don't think anyone knows I am here;
Time never stops,
But keeps rolling inexorably onwards.
But no more for I.
For I have no more miles to go,
No, never any more.
Death beckons to me with her cold white hands,
A welcome after all of the loneliness;
A single owl hoots a baleful farewell,
And I think that she, at least, knows of me;
The frigid Styx burbles,
A song to help me on my way.
And now for I.
For I have one last mile to go,
But never any more.
Every day is a series,
Of moments passing by,
Moments with you,
And moments without.
When I’m alone,
The minutes drag,
And each a wait
For the time we spend
Together.
When I’m with you,
I count the seconds,
To try and make time crawl.
But now that I have
Counted all I can,
I forget what it’s all for.
I think I loved you once.
Or perhaps it was a dream.
I try to count the days
As they pass,
But succeed only in
Counting meaningless moments.
You were there the day the world ended,
Standing in your suit, handsome, resplendent.
You were there the day the old gods died,
There to grieve, to tell me don’t cry.
You were there the day the stories failed,
To smile and laugh as away dreams sailed.
You were there the day the system crashed,
Picking up pieces of old data smashed.
You were there the day the blue-green seas boiled,
Sitting serenely as around you waves roiled.
You were there the day fires burned,
Setting back rights wrongly end-over turned.
You were there the day you told me you loved me,
Smiling even as it was plain you could not see.
Because you weren’t there the day I wanted to die.
And now I’m gone, having never said goodbye.
Do you realize all the things we’ve done?
For I am the moon, and you are the sun.
We wreak havoc on a world unsuspecting,
The things that we say burrowing, infesting.
You burn the fires; I’ll move the tides.
You create factions; I’ll make neutrals take sides.
But wait, there’s more!
There’s things we’ve thought but never planned before.
You go to Boston; I’ll go to France
(Hey, look, it’s Luis’s underpants!)
You make machine guns; I’ll make the wars.
You throw grenades; I’ll bomb food stores.
We make all question their sanity,
We destroy pretty, beautiful, vanity.
It’s not for ourselves, these things that we do,
But for the good of the world, I swear it, it’s true!
And if we say it together, the world will never see
The God and the Goddess that we will surely be.
I know that one and one make two,
And two and one make three.
But one and one for me are none,
So far as I can see.
H and O are water,
And N and those are more.
With the three of those together,
Acid's all I've seen before.
The derivative of you plus me,
I know that it is zero.
Together we will constants be,
But you always my hero.
I know it's true; you love me not,
Of that much I am certain.
Between us lies a fence much like,
That age-old Iron Curtain.
Oh, sure I've got the thoughts.
And, sure, I've got the mind.
But always, too, there's something that
I just can't seem to find.
With you I walk with giants.
With you I'm never sane.
With you my thoughts, they never dim
My love, it will not wane.
I'm sorry this is awkward.
I only hope it's right someday.
I'm sorry if it's strange for you,
To know what I feel every day.
I'm sorry you'll forget me.
Don't lie-- I know you will.
I only wish four years from now,
You'd look back and know me still.
There's too much that I am sorry for,
With clumsiness and all.
Every time I see you,
My high hopes begin to fall.
I'm not good enough for you,
For all the goodness that you are.
Always I'm afraid,
That all I am is one black scar.
Sometimes I remember.
The sharp, woody scent of pencil shavings.
The smears of marker on my fingers.
The splatters of paint on the front of my dress.
The crunch of fall leaves under my feet. What it was to laugh.
Sometimes I remember.
The tunnel forts we built under the snow.
The precariousness of the front lawn in winter.
The feeling of having a snowball shoved down my shirt.
The bite of a snowflake on my tongue.
What it was to play.
Sometimes I remember.
The flooding of the fields with snowmelt.
The gritty black mud dripping in my hair.
The trees slowly returning to green.
The joy of baskets on Easter morning.
What it was to live.
Sometimes I remember.
The raindrops skittering across upside-down plastic pools.
The warm sand that stuck between my toes.
The wind that nearly drove me mad.
The bike that wouldn't stay on two wheels.
What it was to know joy.
I think now I've forgotten.
The corn farmers selling their crops at the side of the road.
The giant snowman nearly as high as our roof.
The friend who tried to kiss me that I'll never see again.
The rush of jumping off a swing into a giant pile of leaves.
What it was to remember.
The morning sky changes,
From black to navy to violet to pink to orange,
The traffic light changes,
From green to yellow to red,
And to green to yellow and yet again to red,
That bloody, fluorescent red that eats away at my soul,
Body and mind, my impatient self,
Devoured by the all-encompassing red light.
Time rushes by with the fleetest glimpse,
As the sky changes,
And the traffic light changes,
And never once do the many red lights before me cease.
They blink, stutter, but always are present,
Taunting me,
Tormenting me,
Destroying my impatient self.
They illuminate drumming fingers. They clash with the green of dashboard displays,
Air conditioning and radio and clock,
Those comforts of modern-day life
Do little to offset the glaring red.
Inching forward makes no difference,
For always, always, the light is red.
Soon, too, the sky will be red,
And the sun will be a red semi-circle
Above the black-silhouetted trees.
Quickly enough, all,
Everything that I see,
That I am,
Is red.
Stopped.
Unmoving.
The traffic never changes,
Always and ever,
I am sitting,
Waiting for a change that will never come. Perhaps that is the flaw
Which will destroy mankind.
A stone spire rises,
A needle piercing the sky;
A great eagle screes,
A haunting call to shatter the tranquility;
The river far below burbles,
A song to help it on its way.
The river goes on.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The redwoods soar into nothing,
A long last vision of God;
The many wolves howl,
An eerie reminder of things long gone;
The ocean far off crashes,
A lullaby to put all to sleep.
The ocean reaches far.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The grasses waver in the wind,
A rolling mass of gold;
The deer bound, seen then unseen,
A fragile glimpse of earthly beauty;
The wind rushes over all,
A rustling to match that of the leaves.
The wind marches onward.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The snow-capped peaks tower over all,
An implacable, unchangeable green-flecked barrier;
The owl settles in wind-tossed home,
A queen able to see all her kingdom;
The glacier inches unchangeably down,
Creaking and forcing even mountains to change.
The glacier travels, unstoppable.
As do I.
For I have many, many miles to go,
And ever many more.
The stillness strikes me most of all,
An unbreakable wall of silence;
The moose are still, and quiet,
A huddled bunch waiting for something to happen;
The ice doesn't move,
Sitting ominously, precarious at the edge of the waves.
The ice is still.
As am I.
For I have no more miles to go,
No, never any more.
The darkness is all that's apparent,
An un-yielding smothering soul-sapping darkness;
All is far and distant,
And I don't think anyone knows I am here;
Time never stops,
But keeps rolling inexorably onwards.
But no more for I.
For I have no more miles to go,
No, never any more.
Death beckons to me with her cold white hands,
A welcome after all of the loneliness;
A single owl hoots a baleful farewell,
And I think that she, at least, knows of me;
The frigid Styx burbles,
A song to help me on my way.
And now for I.
For I have one last mile to go,
But never any more.