| Whichwards |
[Aug. 26th, 2008|10:19 pm] |
It’s not what we say, she said, she said
It’s not what they say that we said.
There’s world beyond and a world behind and we are doomed,
doomed,
beautiful and hopeless, irrevocably doomed.
The futures; we won’t pen, [but they just might].
The futures; we won’t write, [but they just might].
Our future; we won’t live, [but I think they just might].
Given half a chance [& half a chance we might].
( There's... ) |
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| the puddle theory... |
[Mar. 17th, 2008|08:11 pm] |
. . . imagine a puddle waking up one morning and thinking, 'This is an interesting world I find myself in, an interesting hole I find myself in, fits me rather neatly, doesn't it? In fact it fits me staggeringly well, must have been made to have me in it!'
This is such a powerful idea that as the sun rises in the sky and the air heats up and as, gradually, the puddle gets smaller and smaller, it's still frantically hanging on to the notion that everything's going to be alright, because this world was meant to have him in it, was built to have him in it; so the moment he disappears catches him rather by surprise.
I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for. |
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| another poem... |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|08:44 pm] |
Meeting at Night
The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
...
Parting at Morning
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.
R Browning |
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| the quiet world by jeffrey mcdaniel |
[Feb. 14th, 2008|10:05 pm] |
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond, I know
she's used up all her words
so I slowly whisper I love you,
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 22nd, 2007|06:51 pm] |
Let us be lovely,
And let us be kind,
Let us be silly and free,
It won't make us famous,
It won't make us rich,
But dammit how happy we'll be |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 17th, 2007|07:27 pm] |
There's a full moon shining
and a joker in the pack
the dealer's dealt the cards,
and he won't take them back
There's a black cat stalking
and a women who's afraid
that there's no getting off
without the price being paid... |
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| like acid, sometimes it burns |
[Sep. 30th, 2007|10:19 pm] |
[1]
It’s warm. not the oppressive warm of the day, and not yet the cool of the evening just a stagnant warm that is complemented by the soft breeze, not broken by it, a half-arsed warmth, feeling like you do at ten to knock off time, when you know you have to carry on working but it’s so close to the end that it doesn’t quite feel worth it or it’s like that state you reach, just before you completely succumb to the realms of sleep, when you’re lost in dreams yet still conscious of the world around you, gently hanging on to the tip of reality by the tiniest of threads.
( There's a million romantic ways to describe it... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 4th, 2007|02:00 pm] |
we all know
there's no hitler and no holocaust
no winter and no santa clause
there's no hell and no hiroshima
chernobyl was a cover up
the world is really all in love
but you can stop the truth from leaking
if you never stop believing... |
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| and i can be your dirty little secret |
[Jun. 29th, 2007|09:12 pm] |
Cheap hotel rooms. Musty cigarette smells wafting off well worn pillows. Television; frayed power cord and only two channels. Dank and dirty carpet, once green now grey. Squeaky mattress adorned with rough blankets, wrapped in the scent of one too many occupants. Walls, sepia in tone, framed by blistering cornices. Mini bar hidden behind broken hinges; tiny drinks inadequate for oversized appetites. Heavy curtains hang from bent rods; decorated by patterns only the eighties could love. Clutter spread across the lone tabletop; gossip mags, teacups, hand held mirror, cheap lipstick and empty champagne bottles. The thrill of uncertainty and possible disclosure a potent aphrodisiac. High heels; discarded by the foot of the bed, clothes; similarly so. The Gideon bible tucked within the bedside table, blind to the commandments we break. Our transient affection reflected poorly in the dim and dusty mirror. Consolation found in grimy rooms and seas of other peoples dirty little secrets.
Your side of the bed; still warm. |
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| Right Now |
[May. 8th, 2007|10:12 pm] |
We were born for this, we own right now.
We are everything, everyone, nothing and nobody. We breathe through every step taken, walk through the minds of every living soul. We are equivocal attestations to divinity and eternity, confused with humanity and morality. We are the meaning, the reason; we denote semantics and connate words. We are in control.
We are love unadulterated, unjust and untamed. We are truth, beauty, peace and justice, horror, war, passion and fear. We are eternal, immortal and completely and utterly finite. We can make forever in a moment, and a moment, forever.
We can take what we have and make it into mountains or acorns. We have the ability, agility and avarice, the indecision, ineptitude and insanity. We are the lust for the future, the hope for the past, the lifeblood of the present.
We are mobility or inertia.
We are change or stagnation.
We are all we need. |
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| A conceptual nightmare; |
[Apr. 26th, 2007|09:34 pm] |
An ambiguous assertion of alienated anatomy,
Her proclamations of faith, so to speak
Spilled over pristine, porcelain lips.
It’s like a simile wrought with irony,
She’s an aesthete of allegation,
Caught within a certain nomenclature,
An argot of overexposed humanity;
Too unfamiliar territory, too unpalatable, she finds
To convey without ambiguity,
Expressionistic simplicity in the rigours of cliché
Are to her like a crucifix to the damned.
No, she wouldn’t tread that well worn path,
Though its allure may attempt to seduce her,
She wouldn’t contradict her constitution in such a way.
but sometimes its hard to discern...
are we writing what we feel?
or just feeling what we write? |
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| suburbian paranoia singing anthems to our children |
[Apr. 6th, 2007|05:46 pm] |
the friday five;
Monday was magical because... it marked the beginning of the end (of school... for this term...)
Tuesday, what a tiring day, because... we had the drama night and although it was a shit load of fun, it was very tiring, running about the place and trying to remember peoples lighting cues and trying to get organised when people cant keep their mind on a single thing for more than thirty seconds was absolutly exhausting (think ross noble, only trying to organise a small highschool drama performance... and without the humour)
My Wednesday was wild & crazy because... i had a german test, a massive math test, a focus group with the council (and got free food), i was counting money and trying to avoid gay music performances (and ferretface), i got my sim card, i tried to activate it, i went to 313 and recorded a band called LAD, played with the desk, talking to james and had one of those moments where you both slyly giggle and smile knowing your both are thinking the same thing but you dont say anything (and then think about it afterwards and wonder whether you were in fact thinking about the same thing or whether you just both simultaneously laughed and smiled...)
Thursday made me think about... nothing particularly prophetic... though i did ponder how long my credit would last me and i also wondered whether i'd put tucker's number into my phone wrong (exciting stuff that is...)
Friday is the most fun because of... the fact i didnt have to do anything, i just sat on my cousins lounge reading george orwell or watching ross noble or playing with bronte (my cousins dog) or watching re runs of spicks and specks or trying to find the subliminal messages in bananas in pjamas or sat at my computer drinking orange and champagne not doing anything at all of consequence...
so in other news life has been exceedingly hectic and ive had a headache all day (i think as a result of my brain being in shock "what, you dont actually want me to do something? surely there's some school work i should be doing? or a test i should be revising? no work at all? what do you mean no work... thats crazy... i dont think i can handle that... ARHHHHHH!!!! *cue brain running screaming from my skull*)
arh good times....
tuesday was a brillant day, the drama night went off really well (except for forgetting my jacket and fucking up a few blackouts and lighting changes)but all in all it was a really good night.
wednesday also was just a really enjoyable day (if you discount the part where i had a math test and a german test) the free food we got for doing the forum with the council was sooooo yummy (and we learnt a valuable lesson; wollongong council employ more people than just the guys with the 'stop/slow' signs that stand beside roadwork)
313 was also really good that night, we were actually recording a band and we've started to figure out what we're doing so we're not bumbling aimlessly about the desk as much. the band recorded a song called 'balloons'... the chorus involved the vocalist inhaling helium and singing... hilarious stuff
now im essentually got the weekend to myself... in my cousins house... without my cousins... doing nothing i dont want to... its brilliant
long post... but thaaaats all folks
♥ |
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| The apocalypse |
[Mar. 12th, 2007|09:47 pm] |
Through the large, front windows of the cafe, a city bus could be seen passing by on the street outside. Inside the cafe, two men stood and talked at the counter while music playing on a radio filtered out from the kitchen. I sat at a table and wrote, occasionally taking a sip of cappuccino. But that was all: in spite of our many expectations, nothing else happened.
--G. S. Evans |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2007|07:28 am] |
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"It's like looking at all the students and wondering who's had their heart broken that day, and how they are able to cope with having three quizzes and a book report due on top of that. Or wondering who did the heart breaking. And wondering why." |
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| procrastination... oh the joys |
[Mar. 3rd, 2007|04:22 pm] |
name ten songs off your playlists that begin with that letter;
(i got given the letter 'E' by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) courtneys_girl)
1. Easy Target ~ Blink 182
2. Eleanor Rigby ~ The Beatles
3. Elevator ~ Boxcar Racer
4. Emo Kid ~ Adam and Andrew
5. En Vie ~ Apocalyptica
6. English Summer Rain ~ Placebo
7. Endless Dark ~ HIM
8. Enter Sandman ~ Metallica
9. Eulogy ~ Tool
10. Everything Fades ~ Poets of the Fall
should you feel the urge to comment, ill give you a letter |
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| curious... |
[Mar. 1st, 2007|07:28 am] |
Five Jewish men influenced the history of Western civilization;
Moses said the law is everything.
Jesus said love is everything.
Marx said capital is everything.
Freud said sex is everything.
Einstein said everything is relative. |
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