All As One

It occurs to me that posting these little explanations before throwing poetry out there is often helpful, so I’ll often add annotations to them, such as this. The current piece is actually two other bits I’ve made butchered into a single new poem… that I guess is about some dude on fire and a girl he’s mad at? Fuck, I don’t know. There were two themes to each of the old poems I cut up to make this one, so from four themes, came these two. It’s obviously a lyrical piece, so no complaints about the rhyme scheme.

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All As One

If I wanted the truth, I wouldn’t be here today.
If you wanted the truth, you’d end this display.
I could be sent to hell, to climb its bowls and be here once more.
I could do all of that, but I’d only be trading hell for a war.
I could do that, but I’ve already done it before.

Your arms mean nothing to me now.
Just a game that I allowed.
Everything is fine.
Nothing is fine.
Duplicity…

If I wanted you back, I would have screamed out your name.
If I heard your words again, I’d only hear blame.
I’m stuck in your world, and it won’t stop burning.
Trying to find stability in a storm that won’t stop churning
Still trying to yell at the world to stop turning.

Your eyes mean nothing to me now.
Just my fate left, and a broken vow.
Lies whispered in my ears.
Truth is all I could hear.
Direction…

If I wanted to see your face, I’d scratch it into the wall.
I remember making you smile, but how, I can’t recall.
I’d butcher the crowds, set them to their flames.
It’s easy when you don’t even know their names.
See them fall for you, the end of all the games.

I remember you used to call out to me when you were asleep.
You’d wake up in fear, and I would sit there and weep.
You grabbed my neck and told me not to go.
I smiled, even then, but it was all for show.
Now I’m in the midst of the fire, and all you say, is “no”.

Your hands mean nothing to me now.
I’m stuck here, and I’m not sure how.
I don’t mind, why don’t you save me?
I don’t mind, why don’t you hate me?
I know what you’re saying.
All as one… move as one.
All as one… move as one.

Ariak’s Lament

The following is general musing in the first person prospective of a character of mine, talking about absolutely nothing at random intervals, to help better establish the character in my head. Though, I will admit, I always feel weird writing a female character from the first person prospective.

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Let me tell you, they will replace themselves one day. No, I told you this, I screamed it at you! I told you everything, I wanted to make it clear, but you weren’t listening to me.

I screamed for your name, but all I heard was my echo.

When I touched down this planet screamed.

When you got back they all cheered.

I bled silver and white, I cried tears that made mountains crumble. I couldn’t recall your name.

Replaced by their children, replaced by their machines, replaced by their greed. The eternal, it exists through iteration.

Wonder ‘Bout

When I try to sleep, I often pursue strange thoughts. Chains of thinking that all lead into one another, but I have no idea what direction I’m facing by the time sleep finally claws at my brain.

Cat circles my feet. I wonder, why do people domesticate some animals, but eat others? People that run shelters for dogs and cats most likely eat at fast food places like the rest, should that be ironic? Or, is it just that being cute makes for a handy survival trait?

I have no reason to think that, but I do. I am surrounded by a lot of pointless drama, and I see the cat around me. Maybe this is why he’s here? This small creature sees through a lot of bullshit. He’s perfected the art of not giving a damn.

Sight From the Tempest

Everything is going up. Everything is fine. Everything is going as planned. Everything is fine, fine, fine.

Everything is going down. Everything is in chaos. Everything’s in disarray. Everything’s a mess, a mess, a mess.

It’s a tropical storm, hooray! I love storms like this. Pouring buckets all day. I find a break in it. It’s time to leave, time to stretch my wings and take flight from this broken home. I need serenity, like only the chaos of a storm can bring me.

Jump! (The Braid Rant)

THIS RANT WILL SPOIL THE STORY OF THIS GAME BIG TIME, SO YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

I’m not really one to consider video games as art, but Braid puts quite a dent in my argument.

First of all, it looks absolutely wonderful.

A unique visual style that pays great homage to Super Mario Bros., the game presents itself as a platformer at first, but it’s really anything but. The game is, by its nature, a puzzle game… but not only a puzzle game, but the kind that’ll make you tear your hair out trying to figure out a solution. Getting the puzzle bits in each level though is wonderfully rewarding, and it makes you feel like the smartest person in the universe.

But what’s so appealing about Braid, is how it weaves an interestingly tragic tale in a package that looks all happy and fun. It introduces a mechanic that is as essential to the gameplay as the story is to the game mechanic.

Only Happy When It Rains

It rained all day today. Felt great. Took a walk when everything let up for a bit, and there was a chill to the wind that bit at my face, and the clouds kept everything a lovely dark shade of its former self.

Wind kept blowing all day, sat outside a lot with the cat and just watched the trees fight at the storm. I love days like this. Others call these days dull or terrible. I thrive in them.

Granted, I didn’t do shit with most of the day. Aside from going out to the new Sonic with Kyle and his wife, I just sort of dicked around on WoW all day (Nether Drake, you will be mine).

Still, there’s some unique type of whimsy that floats in my brain on days like this. Instead of the usual pain and tedium that propagates in my mind so much these days, I was instead able to break away and look at inspiration again.

…

I didn’t FIND inspiration, but for the first time in a great long while, I felt like it was within reach. A whole week of this kind of weather, and maybe I’ll actually get back to shitting out some drafts again.

I listen to this Junkie XL track, “Home”. It’s odd because I don’t really know the true meaning of the word. But the wordless soft and sweeping sound. It pushed me in a direction at least. I find it amazing how easy it is for a song to bring me to the brink of tears. If not for the music itself, then for wherever it takes my brain. Some unique type of place where I’m constantly reaching out for that hand that can guide me towards creative bliss… but I only come so far. End up short.

Every attempt at anything I’ve endeavored towards so far seems like some kind of analog. Like I’ve built it just to build it. Look at the form, look at the idea.

The only sort of solution I came to is to start “sketching” ideas based on characters. Get the feeling of what should transpire with things like poems or short little bits of tales that do nothing but try to establish a mood. I should hopefully crank a few out over the next few days.

But of course, if this weather doesn’t hold… then it may be for naught.

Fickle…

And though I know you can’t appreciate it
I’m only happy when it rains

Sight From the Songs

The tension around me boils. There’s so much noise, and what needs to be said is remaining the only absent thing. The more they strive to get where they want to go, the further they drift from grace.

Someway outside. Somewhere outside. Someone outside. Escape, trivial lapses from mundane things, away from worry, away from minds that pay no mind.

iPod? Check. Headphones? Check. Wallet? Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I can afford anything. Shoes and a direction, that’s all I need.