Sucker Punch

If you stand for nothing, you fall for everything.
- Movie Sucker Punch

Impossible

- Shontelle

Tell them all I know now
Shout it from the roof top
Write it on the sky love
All we had is gone now
Tell them I was happy (i was happy)
And my heart is broken
All my scars are open
Tell them what I hoped would be
Impossible, impossible

Days

- Philip Larkin

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are happy to be in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Big Girls Don't Cry

- Fergie

It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do

And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry

The path that I'm walkin', I must go alone
I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay

Fantabulous Ideas!

I've actually been mulling over a few ideas this past week and oh-my-goodness (someone give me an alternative exclamation phrase!) I think I can really work it. Very different ideas. Will probably need lots of research, but oh how brilliant!

Funny. I think I'm slightly manic. Sleep time.

Mighty

And it's mighty when it doesn't work anymore.

What happens when your passions or [insert other addictions here] stop working for you?

Conviction

He has swum far and dived low to be certain of his course to heaven
Certain that the best-kept secret will present itself
Propped like a pearl in an open shell

So he sings to his lady, tells her an oceanful of truths
And she says yes I know
Out of pity

Screwed

I am writing poetry.  Poetry. I don't write poetry. They are too sickly, too sly, too caught up in their own aesthetics. I don't like it, don't approve of it, don't bother. So someone please tell me why I am currently mass-producing them like an assembly line.

This is both curiously wonderful and disturbing. Wonderful, because I'm blown away by the things you can do in a few lines, in as little words as possible, of the way words can laugh and sob with you, of the way words look on paper, of the personality of speech and language and everything-in-between. Disturbing, because I'm not writing stories anymore.

No. I'm sorry. You don't quite get it.

Story-writing is the one way I become a number of someone elses: narrator, character, dreamer, caricature, time-traveller, government, annotator of problems and solutions, speaker for the layman. It is how I forget the dreary flaws of this existence, and how I step into another. It is how I can make up terrible, disgusting, frightful other-worlds and be thankful I'm in mine. It is how I keep sane.

Story-writing is my life. It's why I take up Literature. It's the last reason jolting me awake in the morning. It is why I stay up late, or sit on the same chair for hours. It's my vocation. It's my special gift from God. It is the single, unmovable, dependable, nuclear essence of me. It is my passion, my heart, my work, my soul, my life, me. It is everything.

Tell me then, what can Poetry possibly offer to come up rival?

'When you're young and talented, it's like you have wings.'
 - Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Epic

Shatter like stars pricked off the sun
Like moonlit leaves plucked off the river
Like graffiti spattered across my window

Be aware be very aware
Of this amazing glorious stupendous awesomely intense pain
Of how your insides flare up like sharp icicles
Of the stiff limbs

You know you are still real

Words

The difference between do not like and dislike?

It

It is not pretty
It does not have fabulous eyes
Fabulous nose mouth hair

But it has
Bright eyes clean nose glossed mouth
Neat neat hair

We want a bit of it
Post-surreality
For the hollow men

Ivory

The opaque juts out
Like ivory
Under the thin

Where did it all disappear to?
__ loves to ask.

The New Life

Feel it everyday, the humdrum
Of a pain becoming familiar
Ritualise it, make it religion
Make it the Be-all End-all

Get tired of it, the sameness
Of a practice without will
Be angry, slash at it, widen the gashes
Watch it sew itself back

Ask for it, the new living
To denounce this pain
For it is not pain at all
Merely a lost road taken

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

- Shakespeare, Macbeth

Happy

When was the last time Happiness wasn't just a word?

When did Happiness become a concept to decipher, a mesh of other feelings, the antithesis of Sadness?

When was the last time you were happy, and didn't have to define it so?

The Experiment

Warning: This is an experiment.

She walks out the window.
Floats in the air.
Walks in the street, stops for a stare.

She takes a stone, maims that pigeon.
Watches it glide and flutter.
The splinter of its beak bent like a slur.

She is the Lost.
Is there a burial ground
For those not yet Found?

Time is ticking now.
But the hourly chime, simply
Cannot sound for those who cannot mime.

Warning: End of Experiment.

For You

This is for you, after you, you, you.

Because the strands come together over the fretboard.
Cover you, you empty, vast Hole.
Make this sympathetic succession of sounds.
So I strum and sing and belt out the familiar darkness.
Realise that it is you who echo
And amplify my tones of sorrow.

Weave 'em out, them horse-strings.
They are coarse, rough, good.
Hold the neck! Grab the headstock!
And loosen 'em tuner posts.

Now I can play real, real music.
Music without your resonance of woe.

This is for you, after you, you, you.