Well Forgotten

I guess you think that I'm enjoying this
It's hard to let go of nothing; no, it's impossible
I feel like my whole life is just sand slipping through my fingers
Helpless, I just watch it

It's frustrating when you're the most talkative person in the world
And you run out of things to say to the only person you want to talk to
It's sad when you have no real relationships with anyone and no one wants to talk to you
I feel lost.

Short Poetry Collection

This was inspired by one of my photography projects, I'll update this as I get / find more material.


The sea envelops you
The waves lull you to sleep...
Or so you thought

Your body snaps from its position
Time to live life again
With eyes wide open

---

The blue skies swirl above
White wisps dancing as satyrs
Going about unnoticed,
As the people swirl below
Dark souls heavy like their burdens
Why don't they just look up?

---

Unberührbar

(Wieder) gefangen in dem Käfig aus Eiskristallen
Mit deine Armen heben, alle Grenzen sind überschritten
Aber ist's vergeblich, aber ist's albern
Alle Versuche sind total wertlos.

Sie würde dich nicht hören, sie würde dich nicht sehen;
Verseilt und allein, jetzt gehst du ins Heim
Ins Asyl werden deine Augen erblinden
Und deine „Freunde" entweichen (ins Nacht)

Kalte Hände und eine kalte Seele
Allein, allein, du bist wieder allein;
Alles muß beschädigt sein, ja alles muß perfekt sein
Jetzt mußt du in die Begeisterung fallen
Und jetzt mußt du dich in dem Irrsinn absaufen
Verliere dich selbst, bevor andere dich stehlen

Liebe, liebe, liebe
Nur in meinem Herz würdest du geblieben,
Aber, aber, aber (sage ich:)
Nur hast du nicht verstehn.

Wann werde ich sehen,
Und wann werden dieser Quäler abgehen?


So sage ich;
NICHT DER TAG VOR DEM ABEND LOBEN

Mist

I kept trying to write a post that was regular. After six tries I gave up. It seems I am cursed with poetry. Feel free to remind me of why I keep updating by commenting, cultists. :)

Lace curls adorning shadowed buttresses
Gnarled zooform gargoyle grimaces are to me grins
Living my invisible life in the shadowed upper cities
Listening to the city moaning sadly as they kill each other
A furious wind tears through its remains, for once releasing the stench of death
Instead of dying down, the wind grew stronger
The death gasp of some long forgotten god, oh how merciful he must have been.

If this is what you call life, I can't trust your twisted definitions
You pull me closer and push me away like a burning tide
Like the seas of flame outside the dead child's walls
Even the slums are empty, each building's rusted frame standing out like broken teeth,
Shattered ribs scraping the skies so bloodied.

Everything about the shadowed place was supposedly forgotten,
Open up your eyes and look around you, brush the ashes off of your face
This world is gone and dead, but not another
White lilies glissening in the dawn, no sunset after all
Steeping from the metal harbor onto the wood
Egress of the last melancholic, the city is steeped in a mist.

見知らぬ人 -- Strangers (A collection of Haiku)

The first set is in Japanese, then some in English. Several I have translated for reading pleasure. Together they tell a story. Listen to it.

古代の木
桜の花を
見ています

夕燒けに
彼女明るい
風甘い

大斜陽
憂い人形が
できますか

Inhaling softly,
twisting my lips, I whisper
a silent prayer

Chill winds brush my face
Love is fragile, like glass shards
Please do not break her

Night buses, silent
Alone, but for my own thoughts
I think about you

Still ponds beckon me
Elegant melodies call
I cannot resist

Orange autumn leaves
A love awakened has died
The cold winds will blow

The pale moon burns bright
Time spent can feel so worthless
A lone nymph weeping

Bitter whispers creep,
A cold draft slow, or poison
Puppet strings twisting

I love not getting
All the things that want dearly
I wish I could love

Effervescent melodies
Conflagration of song notes
Or does a bird sing?

Shadows of my heart
I feel damn empty, lonesome
And I hate to love

Clearly desperate,
I reach up to touch your hands
And we are strangers

Heavy spirits fall
Spend all my time just getting
Back to where I start

Everything is fine
Twisting my lips, I whisper
I need you again

Ravens and Butterflies

Waiting under rain,
Falling in heavy sheets
The skies torn asunder;
by the feathery, whispering hands of titans.

The black droplets,
Impacting rhythmically
Upon my face, I thank you;
You tears cover mine oh so well.

And I know I'm waiting for someone,
And I might as well give up
I'm never going to get the things I want;
Which is fine with me, as if it mattered.

I stand and wait in the wooden halls,
Wasting time counting ravens and butterflies
I wish you were here;
I'll wait all night, I can't sleep anymore anyways.

I feel like I'm running myself into a circle,
Or digging myself into a grave
The quicksilver blood of giants filtering down
I shiver in the cold.

I wish you could see me;
Wish you could see me for who I am
Instead of this monster I walk around as,
So I take up a mirror.

And I look into it,
And I turn into stone
Dying was simple,
Living was the masterpiece,
the locus of my efforts.

Indeadedness

All these years, I've lied
It was months, years ago when I died,
For to have met you; to look in your eyes,
Oh that was enough for me.

Fear was what compelled me
As I fell off of that bridge, I could see
For to have touched you; to have felt you,
Oh that was too much for me.

Fire burned above and below
It was centuries ago when I first did show
My dark passions for a soul
Oh the only I could not have

Heartsong of Orpheus

So lately I've been writing poems with roots in Greek mythology. In case you can't figure this one out, I'll give you a hint: it's about Orpheus.


Fluttering, dark wings cover me eyes,
Tender words cutting my ears open like razor blades
Standing cold in shock and disbelief, where have gone all your lies?
Your sick rants have tuned to melodic serenades,
And I can't take it.

Falling deeper into your beautiful torments,
My thirst shall never end,
Blood red tapestries despoil the ancient sacraments,
Into the maw now must I descend
And I shall not forget my lyre.

Twisted and corrupt black sigils plastered on each wall,
Fear wells up all inside of me,
Timidity and a lack of willfulness,
So I turn around, and I look at you one last time,
And as I look at you I kill you, fading
until you are a memory only
And I fall to my knees to weep.

Hello, Cult!

Greetings, my followers. I'd like to apologize on how long it has taken me to write a more "regular / normal" post. I'm that sure you missed me. Well, I'd say that today is a Friday and that I feel descidedly indescisive. I don't really know how to sew these thoughts back into words, but just because I am no expert isn't going to stop me from trying.

Sometimes, I hate who I am, the way I am. My emotions get in the way of everything that I want. Or rather, my emotions have become the things I want. Irritatingly enough, I feel as though I write best when I feel my worst. Perhaps I have a subconscious fear of feeling good?

Anyways, let's stop talking about boring, stupid things such as myself. Hmmmm. How about things I always wish existed. First on the list: thought detection technology. I've always wondered just how much people secretly hate me. Lightsabers. Perfect for cutting toast and limbs! A handbook on being normal. Proably never going to get this one, but who cares?

I love to stalk people. Or rather, creep them out. It's just one of my ways to avoid becoming popular. I roleplay, which I hope convices people that I'll be lonely for the rest of my life and live in my mothers basement. I wish that were the case. The number one thing that I hate the most is when something eccentric and awesome that I found on my own gets turned mainstream and candy-coated to hell. I hate it. Essentially, there goes one more thing that made me feel proud to be myself! Unfortunately, this end of the spectrum essentially leads to being extremely alone when it comes to enjoyment. That's the worst part about it. Avoiding what's popular ultimately causes you to abandon everything that everyone else would do. That just won't work either. Reason: I'll directly quote some people on this one to show my case in point (these are from memory, mind you.): "No one wants you here. No one likes you. GO AWAY.", "You never shut up, do you?", and the list goes on an on.

Wonderful. I've descided upon a raving blog bitching session. Just wonderful. How about I change the subject, hmm? Well I saw The Dead Weather at the Filmore. That was pretty awesome. They even played their new singles and a few covers. (Here's an example of a good song of theirs: http://vimeo.com/10816997 Not to mention, I love the video!) Definitely worth having 4 hours of ringing ears. Not to mention, I got my first Persian lesson, which was also pretty awesome. It was hilarious because the whole class was adults except for me, quietly mastering Arabic characters and their pronunciations while the rest of the group had just a swell time flailing their limited foreknowledge in the subject. For the first time, I felt prideful, boastful even. Of course, I didn't say anything until I wanted to get a break. "Everyone must practice all the letters before they can take leave. *Lifts up perfect handwriting.* Oh." Definate moment of achivement feeling afterwords.
This weekend: one party (now I am starting to feel popular, but hey, being existing at all is better than being ignored I guess huh?) Then I get to enjoy that sinking lonliness that pulls you in and drowns you until you can get back to the weekdays (a.k.a. what little of a social life you have). One problem with that: on Mondays, people don't want to talk. Oh well, I'll wait for a Wednesday or Thursday I guess. I hate Fridays, because it feels like the week is dying. I don't like that feeling. Not one bit.

Oh well, my words are dwindling from me. I suppose I shall say farewell and watch you walk off into the distance.

...FaReWeLl...

and goodbye, my cult. Until we meet again.

:}

Pale Flames

Twisted and contorted
the beautiful thing
Walking on clouds,
I want to breathe your breath
as shades dance
The black dance of death.

I take your hand,
mine as chill as ice
I inhale your happiness
and my fears melt
as flowers dance
the youthful dance of spring

So I can no longer see,
it takes no effort to see you
But you must leave me
or the earth will die
as shades dance as I do;
the grey dance of Hades.

"I Love You"

Three words. Acid on my tongue. Do they mean anything anymore? I think not. They mean nothing, nothing, nothing. They are worthless. When those three syllables escape from my tongue, I want to mean it. I want the person I say it to to know that I mean something. I want them to know that they had better hold my hand tight, or I might just slip into hell. This nullifying inertia is sickening me. I hate it. It's a feeling of helplessness, of being backed up in a corner. I'm unable to move, I can't see anything through my tears. Fear fills me, replacing my anger. Anger, anger, anger. Such a demon had so nearly consumed my life. Anger at myself. Anger tuned inward. Each line a tragedy. You want to see a tragedy? Look around you. Look at the hate you are drowning in. Look at the false hope you are giving out like the worthless slips of paper you've used to tie your noose. Tightening more and more, you're suffocating. You can't breathe. Pain is more of that same old and time-tested feeling; one of boredom and apathy. Nothing matters anymore. You don't, they don't, nothing does. After an eternity of self-induced torture, a light appears. A measly, yellow light. You don't even notice it at first. And then, a pale, fragile hand descends into your pit. A hand to pull you up and out. You get out and you're on the surface once again. But then your savior ignores you. They turn their back on you, and you're back where you started. Problem is, you've already seen what it's like to be outside. And now all you can think about is how to get back to there. And you realize something, something important.

You're never going back.

Take a breath of air, smile, and get comfortable; because you aren't going anywhere.

The Brass Insects

The soft hum
Of the brass insects above us,
Drowning out the sound
Of my uncertainty indefinitely
Clicking, flickering
They twitch like burning yellow flowers
And, like my heart
It is of no difficulty to make them glow.

The brass pipes
Of the Earth twists up like spires around us,
Jutting into the soft belly,
The flesh of the sky,
Dark trails of smoke cutting and slicing into her
Like black nails clawing.

The world, my world
Torn to shreds, it falls
Slowly drifting down in lace-like curls
Writhing gently and defying fears
Whispering faint lullabies in my ears.

As I dream on,
It becomes more and more difficult
To separate reality, wants and desires
Until they are so bled together
They are one color.

The Strings are Twisted

Pulling and pricking,
Ripping and tearing.
I am the dark one, soulless
I wait in the corners of your nightmares
and I watch you.

Twisting you, leading you,
I will solve all your problems,
Don't worry child, the nightmare is gone now,
(Oh yes, he is gone, he's right beside you now)
I am your master, a mindless null
I sit in the shadows of your life
and I follow you.

Pushing you, pulling you,
I will answer all your questions,
Don't worry child, I won't leave you with anything-
anything to put your life back together with
I pull your strings, you are my mindless null
I stand above you life, forcing you, guiding you
and you will never even notice.

-DICTATOR-


-- I have dedicated this poem to anonymous. Hope he likes it.--

The Beautiful Silence

Will you go out with me into the nothing,
Falling forever, a thousand years upon a thousand,
Extinguished and broken beyond any subtle musings,
Beyond any hope of repair, my soul bends to your will.
We suffocate the Earth, screaming at this gentle spiral,
It has become a hell bent ride to extinction.

I claw at your hand, trying to get my death grip,
Just like I claw my way up this mountain of fear,
As it suffocates my heart, draining me.
I hold your hand, we stand upon the cliff face,
As we listen to the ocean roar of the city below us,
As we watch the fires go out, their orange streaks like fiery blood
As we watch the sun die, its last rays being silenced by the columns of smoke.

Thunder peals through the valley, throwing me to my feet, prostrate
Twisted, yellow and broken teeth tear at me, laugh at me.

The world is silent now, no cries of pain and no laughter.
The only motion is the ash, slowly swirling down, beautifully
Dancing her way to my feet, I turn away from the scene and I begin to weep
My tears fall into the burning hot ash, and I move my legs
They must carry me away from here, I can't look any longer
I close my eyes to ignore it all, and, stumbling, I fall in the night.

I fall forever, a thousand years, into the beautiful silence.
Are you ready still?
Take my hand as I drag you into my hell, as I pull you to your heaven
Are you afraid still?
Watch me as the nightmares disappear, fade into the walls.
You want me to leave still?
This is a dream.
Close your eyes, as the symphony of insects plays over and over,
As they slip into your skin, pushing lead into your eyelids.
I fall over, deafened by the silence
Make up your mind please, dear
I grow weary of your indecisiveness.

Inertia builds up in veins, until I reach the breaking point
I scream, exhaling my fears.
I dream, sleeping in the wiry phantasms,
I close my eyes and open them.
I am found.

Firesong

Burning hands, alight
Within the concentric circles
of my self-created hells

Burning hands, shine
Igniting the despair and the anger
of my self-created sadness

You whisper, nearly silent
Now I am empty, finally; I exhale
and I breathe in your joy

Spiraling into addiction,
I have become dependent
on your self-created happiness

I am alight
A torch, burning
destroying my previous notions
Of the way I said I should feel.

I want to ignite you,
like a wildfire.

Trees Grown in Ashes

I closed my eyes in the dark,
and I waited
It hurt, yet felt better than most things
draining my emotions more swiftly
Any pain, any sadness burned away
replaced by ash and apathy
Red blood, contrasting pale, soft flesh
blooms and radiates heat
Covering me in warmth,
disgust and waves of nausea
Needle weaving in and out
of the fabric of my hands
Each time a dark thought escaped my mouth
it painted my world in darker hues
Until the only colors left were blacks and blues
the palette of my canvas
I closed my eyes in the dark,
and I waited.



A long tale which I shall elaborate upon some other (ungodly) hour.

Akayematu Isika Mahwa

Akayematu isika mahwa,
eya umetaza tarë
Mäte verhuatu raza;
mahse itütatu
Almenanatu hertep mahwa,
e arilan ahamaza.

-A poem in Äay, my current language that I'm working on. Eventually I'll get around to making arecording of it, it sounds better out loud.