heartbreak hotels for marooned souls
hairspray and perfume
don't mask the stench of last night's gin
part hard and no work
wont get you far my teenage star
january 17, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
a painful RAPsody
this is painful but it must be shared
true colours
show stoppers
big cars
collar poppers
...sorry readers, cant go on. this is embarrassing already
excerpts
poems from when I thought i was a rapper (hence the rhymes)
no work makes talent breezy
so much ambition
but no determination
Achievable, attainable
all girls these days looks the same and
they come round your block
hook you in and break your heart
i had you from the start
a few small words to win your heart
love or loved
that is the question
wondering of our future
but now its out of the question
apologies aint easy
fuck the world
nothing's breezy
hardships and melodramas
bitches causin trauma
fuck them bitch n****s
too young to know what you got is already gold
lost in the ocean
you lost in the commotion
use that pretty head of yours
no good unless its filled with words
february 4, 2010
thoughts in a jazz alley
I don't know if love is transient but I can say honestly that it certainly isn't scarce. I fall in love with several things or people every day.
Trading our hard earned cash for a dirty drink and a good time is what we do
Its not news if no one is being killed.
At the end of the night, as long as you car isn't gone there is nothing to worry about.
April 7, 2010
detector detective
I look up to a black mass that has formed above me, a product of my imagination and blurred vision. The mass slowly grows, blacker, darker, and deeper than the rest of my surroundings, already shadowed by the absence of moonlight or streetlamps. Swimming in the black is a small green light. Green means go. Go where? Follow the small flicker of light into the unknown darkness? Then again, this isn't a metaphor; it's only a smoke detector telling me I'm not on fire (yet.)
less poetic, more cynic
My mask of creativity is the collection of everyone I have ever known
I want to live a life free of outside influence, propelled only by my internal flame. I wish choices were made be me: independent, lone me.
Free of the negative input that led to my heart's demise and free of the "creeping bad thing" animal pleasures that walk in your footsteps.
You are the leech and a parasite; bringing ephemeral joy to the seat of whichever host you have latched to. Musical chairs is fun and games until you're left without a seat.
april 16, 2010
the first line is not my own, it is someone else's (possibly paraphrased)
the elegance of the hedgehog
"The cat has absolutely nothing constructive to do in life and still she is moving toward something, probably an armchair."
this side of paradise
"May came too soon, and suddenly unable to bear walls, he wandered the campus at all hours through starlight and rain."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UY8zK4R9oE8
god bless the Fitzgeralds of the world
Advice to a young student
Word for praise
Cum laude
And portentous thoughs creep in about our sat results
Go forth with confidence
And remember the small people
Carpe diem
Is only a fancy way of saying
Get off your lazy ass
Don't smoke and always remember
To wear sunscreen
Your blatant disregard for authority is appalling and you should be ashamed
Of what brown can do for you
Don't sweat the small stuff
Said the penny pinching octogenarian
It's just life
And life is only a test to get into heaven
Or hell where your soul will rot for eternity
A smile says a thousand words but a picture is just
Molten plastic on wasted canvas
Rome wasn’t built in a day
But don't look at me that way because
My feelings for you could change any second
august 23, 2010
blasting beats in a paper sweatshop
A collection o lazy legs and lost homework
Check you ambition at the door and slip into senioritis
Much more comfortable
Blasting beats from the AM till 4,
When we pitter patter out the door
As we did when we were four and ran uncontrollably from classroom to playground
A collection of messages postered on the wall
In an attempt to not get lost in the shuffle
Futile in a room of collected junk and a jumble of rambling thoughts that flow from our heads out our mouths an bounce off the walls like us kids with caffeine in their veins
Memoirs of last night's circulate and weave under table and around footrests
Creeping through legs and filling abandoned shoes, lingering in shadows of the souls that pass through this room
A crazy consortium of clashing classes and mixed up personalities
Only later do we in each other see the hidden qualities we chose not to show in high school
What was a dream is now a reality
And all the sweet finality of senior year envelops us in honey kisses
Faces plump with youth and our nectar-sweet voices greet each other morning after morning as of this day is going to mean something more than the last
Because
In the end, it isnt just highschool for us,
It's our life and in the present we make each moment memorable
Though not all nights are rememberable
After a while when the glory of your last awards ceremony has faded all you have are the memories of yesterday to push you forward
When we are told follow our dreams
We are also told to reach for the stars,
Though out counsellors failed to inform us that the stars are too hot to touch and we would burn our chubby fingers even with even a graze or brush
september 22, 2010
butter than my universe-ity essay
Sometimes I wonder what happens to the texts lost in cyberspace.
Where are the marauders and mischief-makers who scour the airspace for commuting texts? And why is no one courageous enough to catch them?
If a low-flying airplane departs Boston at 7 PM and a text departs Portland at the same time, where and when do the two meet? Considering a text message moves faster than the speed of light we must acknowledge a few other things:
Birds: do they ever get hit by text messages? Or maybe the question is not whether they are being hit, maybe it is a question of whether or not the birds are stealing our texts.
When a text is stolen, lost forever to the wireless gods, does anyone read it? IF A TEXT FALLS IN THE FOREST AND NOBODY IS AROUND, DOES ANYONE CARE???
What happens to a text on its journey from one mobile device to another? The message is more often than not the same on arrival as it was on delivery. But with the issue of late texts, more questions emerge. Since the messages are the same, it is false to assume they were raped and pillaged. Maybe the text was merely raped and released, free to go about its business. Do the birds rape text messages?
Let us consider the text’s flight through open air (we can assume air resistance is negligible.) At what age can a text fly as an unaccompanied minor? Is each message carried personally through the sky by Hermes? Or is it put into an Hermès luggage bag which is then starpped to the back of Pagasus? When considering the conundrum of the lost texts, these are all factors we must consider.
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