Silence, and then the
concerto rises, dusts the floor so
elegantly the violins begin to weep
patient ears tremble at
the sound, a somber pianist
paints invisible colors through the room
rythem is established,
emotions crescendo
frictionless sound comes to you and
comes around
beutiful, harmonious, the
listeners are hushed in wonder, then
drums of an angry beat
tensing muscles of volatile strings
rising, rising, hesitationg, then,
the split of sounds in perfect chords,
cascading awe as the tempo flutters,
soflty, softly, all in harmony,
the song is over.
simple-minded, yet determined
his memory stops just at the belt line
Cold hands so distant from a time of warm comfort
'it hurts' I say
'no it doesn't.'
becoming to us,
there is no us
how mistaken was I
to ever believe
you had conscious emotion
Splinter in the hand of god by JellicleKat, literature
Literature
Splinter in the hand of god
"I remember the day Jobe Washboro died."
The old man said, the words coming out mutilated, 'died' sound more like 'dyyyyed'.
"That was the day all my papa's crops died."
The old man brings the filterless cigerette to his wrinkled line of a mouth and exhales deeply, his eyes half closed in thought. His concave chest rises like an inflated baloon and falls again in deflation.
"yeah, I remember the ole' sonofabitch allright."
The day's light is failing, time had just been set right again for the farmers and the evening prepares itself sooner now than the sun is ready for. Cold fingers now slip through the win
Atrocious- perhaps. Unattractive- most certainly. But uncourageous? never. Art is more than ink on a magazine or a million dollar painting people drool over. Art is speechless- art is unforgiving. Art is every feeling, and the absence of feeling, and even the absence of ever knowing what a feeling is. Art is motivational, and also sucks the life from us. Art is neither humanity or animalistic. Humans are the only species to grasp and live our whole lives devoted to art. Whether you know it, or even care, art is what drives us. While most people can look at someone who is talented at moving a color pencil across a canvas and call it artistic,
unfettered, unhinged, let go
unreal
the pain
is unreal
can't feel
unclean, won't seem
outcast,
don't risk
damned
by gods that don't exist
unsafe, unpurged
unforgiven
and so
unfettered, unhinged, and let go
My corpse is a prison
for me, me inside
my rib cage serves as bars
and my mouth can open
wide, and even wider
but I can't escape
the skin thrown over
covers what's within
my mind wilts as my body rots
we are trapped
inside out skeletons
(inhale)
there are over 100 billion people in this world
(exhale)
you are a stain, an ant, a smudge
(inhale)
a world where every mind was created with the capacity to wonder if it even exists or is simply put on unconsciousness
(exhale)
a world where for every person, there are 100 million emotions and mind processes
(inhale)
you are a scrape, a cow, a small line in a tapestry
(exhale)
and when you die, nothing will happen, nothing will change
(inhale)
the human mind was meant to grow. do not smother it with the foolishness of that which those before have instilled for we which have not even been born
(exhale)
after all, when y
To the girl I once loved by JellicleKat, literature
Literature
To the girl I once loved
To the girl I once knew-
I wait for you still everyday
To the girl I cry for
when I am alone with myself
To the girl who held my hand
as we walked through graveyards
To the girl who was there
when virtially no one was
To the girl I met before anyone else
and who met me before everyone else
To the girl I would have been happy
to murder for, including myself
To the girl who turned over her mirror
so I wouldn't have bad dreams
To the girl who has changed,
and I have lost somewhere along the way
To the girl I once loved,
and dream of loving once more
Now I lay me down to sleep
Off to count electric sheep
That taunt me in my haunted dreams
To awaken to silent screams
I smile at you
But I know you see through
To the wires in my head
That keep me from being dead
I gazed as the artist paint your face
I watched the runner sweat with every pace
I saw the moon gaze back at me
I watched the sun set sea
I watched the nice laugh at the poor
I heard the poor never ask for more
And, what then, is a robot's nightmare, you say?
A robot's nightmare exists in a single living day.
In the eyes of an angel
occasional evil rest behind them
what is right and what is wrong
he will, he lives
facedown on a fligth of wings
rising above a sea
of hate and sins
an angel alone can't swim
retreat, fly away, don't stay
passionate beuty,
haunting and cold
in the heart of an angel,
an angel has no soul
How very rash of you, to change the channel like that
didn't you realize most of these lambs can't work if it's not tuned to brainwashing?
perhaps you were too busy checking the races
(I'd put my money on lawyer 2#)
You can simply press A, if'd you like to see all the new army recruits
we are so deeply deeply proud of
and quite just as easily press B, if you'd like to see them drop bombs on the wee little children
and be showered with medals
but if you prefer whats going on locally
Select M, for murders in your neighborhood
we are so deeply deeply ashamed of
there is no button to watch them go to kill your wee little children
and
Alone, In a room full of people who love me
an empty shell not yet grown into shape
Pissing me off the way I feel so invincible
yet so God Damn vulnerable
Hurting others on my path to freedom
from myself and all my own bullshit
Sober and somewhat damaged inside
even deeper the rabbit hole goes
Into my head and out of this world
and everyone else can't imagine
That this is me, the REAL me
but did anyone even notice?
I'm somehow passing myself in this race
to happiness off the beaten path
Darkness clouds my already fucked up
visions of the narrow road inside
I can't do this alone but I know I have
to do it on my own with myself
"And never to receive pentance for your sin." the last line of a heavy bound book, the priest stepped down and everyone stood. "Hail the plastic god, hail our women of everlasting sorrow." were the cries heard from within the ear of any onlooking sociopath. No truth or clear revival was to be found in letters and sylables tumbled from their mouths, no guiding light or remourseful arms were located in the noises or between the lines. Everyone hugged, everyone smiled, dug their nice kept nails under each mind's skin, praying only for their own benefit. when everyone was gone the preist began to clean and shine the alter while his devils trailed
Current Residence: Georgia USA Favourite genre of music: classic rock Favourite cartoon character: happy noodle boy Personal Quote: the artist is the medium in which humanity expresses itself
ijust finished a book called 'a thousand splendid suns', definately one of the best books I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. I have started another story, where it leads me, who knows. I dont know why anymore i still come here, when I dont have internet of my own. but if i did i would post the many poems and artworks that crowd my room. perhaps if i ever invest in my own laptop...until then i will meagerly post random journals and hope that i stay in contact with the few artistic minds who still glance at my webpage.
this is the first journal entry of mine for a long time.... i dont know what to say. my life is good, im 18,000 words into my first novel and besides that I work at CVS. thats about it....
I write when I get time. Mostly wasting my time with RP stories about some character. I've been reading the "Sword of Truth" series. Inspires so much, to be honest.
It's the start of..... Snow Ball Fight 2005-2006 !!!!
One rule to this game....
You can't hit someone who has already hit you!
Now... go out there and get as many people as you can, before they get you!
I got you first so you can't get me back!
Well, start hitting!!
(This isnt supposed to offend you in any way; just trying to spread the DA love around.)