08 mai 2009

To the people on my trail...

This post is addressed to all those on my trail... you know who you are.... those people, the lolita people... I shall not annoy you further. So why not make my blog private.. .well lets just say i rather that thoughts be open and these thoughts need not be hidden as i write in a really ambiguous manner lest you figured out the puzzle i had set you... and no i will not tell you how to read it. Oh and seriously... what the hell. Due to the fact that i believe you are just waiting and drooling to figure out who the devil lolita is... well here is a poem. see if you can know who ... she is . good luck. 


...lackeys and the servants of many, undermined (maddening desire) sleeping and obliterated desires Independence day - is here the . apple falling falling newton the genius 

it is a puzzle yes, doesnt make sense does it, but within it contains the name of my lolita... go figure. 

07 mai 2009

Yes yes ... i succumbed

yes it is true, i am back on blogger, what ever that means to that unenlightened mind of yours. 

today marks the tenth day of my hiatus and i have decided to end it today. I could not stand it....ANYMORE !!! 

now, to update you on things happening in my rather uninteresting existence... firstly,  my friend has gotten of tired of waiting for his lady and the other... well lets just say that his lady is having problems with him. I ... on the other hand am happily enjoying my floating existence that is apart from the occasional annoyances from several people in school. hmmm... so i have not written poetry in quite a while so please don't judge the poetry standard too high.  

Calm 
the sheen of sweat down my arm 
heavy and burdensome 

the bells awake them 
the birds, arise and unfurl their masks 
bright and pouting 

Firs stand, on the edge of 
something new 
the frost melting behind. 

curl inward, reverse nature 
allow me my rest 
give me my space 
the oppressors at my door. The morning sun 

too happy. invading, creeping at my door. 

cold , dark, nocturnal man
quell in the fetal posture
masquerading in the body of a owl

a panther brooding 
ready, and strike the silence 
there is no rest no peace in this misshapen world 

and then they come 
the monsters. teeth sharper than mine 
kill. and make from clay, man. 

yes it sucks. i know but i have not written poems for 10 bloody days ok ....