Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Unsafety

A sense of unsafety
My own words on the attack
After a virtual sigh
Virtual silence.

These minds are screaming you see
Screaming in non verbal ways
These minds are wondering
Misunderstanding

As of that moment I was standing in space
Caught enegry dancing
But don't say a word

Cuz you say one more thing
And the energy explodes
Gone from it's encasement
Like three satisfying words

Suffocating in every way
A misty whirlwind in the middle of nowhere
And no where left to go

No more breathing now
Cling to every word
Until the storm abruptly stops
With one final message

Our ghost

Monday, March 29, 2010

Repeated

I was just trying to write how I felt in my journal, in normal paragraph form. Then this slipped out. (this is from a few weeks ago)
_________________________________________________
And why does my life feel like the same thing
Repeated year to year
The only thing changing is the characters
But the lessons are the same
Cause I have the same feelings
And I never learn.
I look back at old journals
That tell of a time
So long before ours
Before simplicity was devoured
And while the setting was so vastly different -
Essentially
It was the same.
So what am I doing here but walking in circles
Scratching with pencils and searching for words
To find a phrase and complete a poem
So I can turn the page
Think about -
And go on.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Nonspecific

It would suck to wake up one day and find out that some one other than Lola has been reading this blog for the past year. Oh, and Melli and The Wizardress too. It would seriously mess with my life, to find out that I've been screaming all this s***, thinking I was releasing stress into the open air and with those that I love. I'm not even entirely sure how I'd react if that happened, I guess it would depend who. I just have this horrible feeling that some one's been checking up on my emotional state and I have no clue about it. That's what I get for putting this on the Internet! But since when is paranoia a new thing for me? Shoot, I just missed 11:11. I wish on every 11:11, just so you know. It's one of those things I believe in. Sorta. Kinda. Hey! So this is actually how I think, and talk, when I'm not being all official on my blog. My blog is just about the last place where I use correct spelling and grammar and etc. And I also usually use big words and concepts, which are actually what I think about... it just sounds really official? I guess? I can't come up with the right word...
So. Now that I'm almost done with this post, I need to give it a title. It's kind of random. But that's not the right word for it. Thank Spirit for thesaurus. Nonspecific. This post is nonspecific. But I find it so interesting that I'm not making a big deal about the future, the past, regret, love or adolescence, that I'm actually going to publish this!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Happy

This is my attempt at writing a post when I'm happy. My hair is flying out of a ponytail, I have one of my favorite outfits on, blasting music, clapping and dancing in a way that no one has ever seen me dance. Ever. I'm talking to people and I'm relishing in the fact that everything went my way today. That just everything about the world looks so perfect and going for me, that I can't even believe it's happening. And the chain of events that are so blissful, send me on a high that has me looking to the sky unable to breathe. Even something that has been known to bring me to my knees crying, is simply invisible at this moment, and I'm convinced it has to do with the sunlight streaming, and the gentle wind. I can't tell you much else about what this feels like, or anything going through my mind, because everything in is a heated whirlwind. So this, relating to my earlier post, is what I'm like when I'm happy. I don't care if the neighbors bother me 'cause the music is on blast, and I'm stomping my feet. What I'll do, is I will go out on that fire escape, and I will shout until they can hear me down in Harlem and up in Inwood cause I am SO DAMN HAPPY.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

2/23/10

Like most of the stuff I post nowadays, I wrote this during Science.
________________________________________________________
Some days the words come out easy
Other days a look is like a scream
Some days call for death
Same days to forget
Filled with regret
Nothing left
And yet
Every day begins
As if there was something worth living
For
Every word I write summons more
Used to say rhymes limit
Now they are a blanket
Avoiding the word "I"
Avoid having to cry
Sitting under a tree in the rain
Why can't we all remain
Asking if everything must change
And they don't hear these words
Trying to drown them
Live without them
Is it so impossible to rise
Create a compromise
Between
Time and me
Hate and Hate
With no debate
What's dead is dead
What you see is what you get
But not forever

Friday, March 19, 2010

Security

What is this destruction that is bringing down the structure of our lives? What is this communal "our" that is supposed to put us all in the same position? Why are there scars on children's faces that can only teach them about the darkness in people's troubles? Those liars who don't preach to raise awareness, but only to hide their own problems...
I don't know what someone could say to put together these pieces I'm holding in my hands. See those fibers like paper ripped apart that were once a face. And not the face of anyone I know because security doesn't have an identity. Security is a liar too - preaching examples of places where you can be unharmed. But everywhere is dangerous because you can always get hurt, but to say you're safe hides how vulnerable you really are. Every step taken is putting your entirety on the line, and we are more easily destroyed internally, before anything external can touch us. So as I hold these pieces that used to be Security, I am thankful that I get to breathe, and to stare down at my bare hands thinking. Because like those liars who are hiding their own problems by trying to act like they're solving everyone else's, I am sitting back and letting knives dig into the weakness of my own soul. Because I am the greatest example of one of those liars.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Satisfaction

I do not function well under happiness. I think I've mentioned this before in some other post, but I guess I'm going to reitterate: when I'm happy, my productivity level sinks. Some people, I've heard, are more capable to commit to things, and be creative, when they're happy. My problem is, when I'm happy, I'm too distracted to be creative. When I'm happy, the sun is too bright in my eyes, my heart is too light my head is flying, and I can't actually focus on creation. For some reason, when I am left dissatisfied with ANYTHING, it becomes a drive for me to write, or drum, or just to work. There suddenly seems to be more inspirtation, and a deeper view on the world - which sounds like bullcrap to me when I say it, but it's true. I'm not one of those people who will purposely throw themselves into a depression "for the sake of their art", but I will admit to being frustrated when I'm having a really great time of it, then I sit down to write, and I just can't. It doesn't come out. I guess writing solves my problems, and creates little safety places for me to be comforted or for me to work them out. When I have no probelems to work out, when life is satisfying, the creativity slows down. Still, it makes more sense to me, that being sad/dissatisfied would be too much of a downer or distraction.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Wall

Like staring at the outside wall
Of my own world
Last time I was here I was inside
Now staring at red-brown bricks
I hear the sounds of the club from within
The bass like a heartbeat
Drums are like a voice
Heard faintly
Whispering
A reversed setting to dwell upon
An awkward vacant room
But that story is beyond us now
Winter draws to an end
Didn't want to see time go
Tried to stop from
Slipping away
Slowly I allow nature to take it's course
Promise I'll forget one day

Friday, March 12, 2010

Future

Pain is a barrier
preventing motion towards your future.
Happiness stimulates
progress towards the future.
Memories exist
to allow the future to be the future
and not a repetition of the past.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Before

I wrote this in Latin class.
______________________________________
Remember when the world was so hopeful
Nobody could know
What would happen

Remember before anyone knew
Not even me
Amo tu

Spring was so young
The sky was so high
Things were just beginning

Happy still will be
Little left for me
Stories so old
can't be told again
This springtime
All things end.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Traffic

As far back as I can remember, there was a fruit roll-up, a snowball, a confused smile, and a traffic light. There were no words being said, only images. While most will remember words, and I of all people, should be dwelling on the words, I stared at my shoes, I stared at the pigeon, and then the traffic light. I try to listen to my memory, but I only hear the sound of wheels on pavement, if anything. I try to remember feeling, but the cold didn't bother me by then.
While the world was being set back on it's pedestal, I was blanking out, words spilling out without a security check, because the guys we have in charge of that, got distracted by a light. Security check had a sudden emergency - a fire in the main control center. Fire estinguishers were blown in vain, as the visual receptors were staring at a traffic light. The verbal printer went through unedited, and the guys on security check were struggling to keep the base from burning out. They called for help from the guys they have in charge of sound. So while the main base was burning, the visual receptors, verbal printer and auditory center were all left unattented, and the memory was damaged. Instead of wise speculation and response, there was nonsense being said. Instead of picking up the most important message yet, there was nearly absolute silence. And instead of seeing a face that spelled out - everything - the only image to be found, is that of a red, flashing, traffic light.