Archive for September, 2010

A Rhyme without Reason

bittersweet longings,
jump into my arms
where are you darling?
I’m waiting for you.

I know you’ll be mine
but I know not when
The fortune teller
is a fickle friend

Just want to hold you
Long for your kiss
Sweet conversations
In the cool moonlight

Want you by my side
Calling to you,
Can you feel it?
I’m calling you.

Stream of Consciousness: Information Overload

The images pass by so quickly, falling through my head and scattering on the floor.  I don’t think I can handle more.  Praise to God and the army, government has failed us, and we have failed ourselves.  Let them spill the blood of children on the eager waiting ground.  Not a sound is heard, over here.  Day in, day out, it’s just my job after all.  Answering the government’s beckon call.  What sweet lovers we make, curled up in bed talking about the future.  He says he won’t hurt me anymore, must be a solemn promise.  I won’t have to do his dirty work anymore.  After all, he has been good to me hasn’t he?  Gave me a place to stay and food to eat, even put me through school.  I’d kill and die for him, even when I know he’s wrong.  That’s how good lovers are.

The soldiers are coming home, but I haven’t seen ’em.  All I see are these boxes with the flags draped over, and the stone boy who refuses to shed a tear.

The information keeps coming in.  We’re all in sin, we’re all going to hell, we’re all going to die.  Nevermind those on the front lines.  Time to complain, but what is it this time?  Have we all lost our minds?  The teaching’s just not good enough, it’s never gonna sink in.  Can’t let ’em learn too much about the wars, they might realize a thing or two about this one.  Can’t teach ’em to think for themselves, or they’ll figure it out anyway.  Can’t teach ’em anything at all, ’cause then they might learn something.  Better to split up the answers into neat, conforming packages.  We’ll spoon feed it with some sugar to help the bitter medicine go down.  Ah, you frown now, but it’ll get better, you’ll see.  We’re all gonna live like Ray Bradbury said in Fahrenheit 451, tvs on the walls to keep us company, no reason to need those pesky little thoughts.  Let the brain die out, it’s not needed anyway.  We’ll all just do what they say.  Controlling every part of our lives to serve their pissing matches.

Worst of all, when did I stop caring?  I remember the days when I protested at every chance, and not just me either.  How long has it been since I’ve heard a solid argument about it?  How long since I sought one out?  No, I just crawled into my hole, and let the world move on without me.  Too afraid to speak because someone might hear my voice.  Like a child, I hid and waited.  Let the grown ups handle this.  It’s none of my business after all.  What happened to that bright future of mine, changing the world one step at a time?  What happened to the message?  Lost into myself I hid away from everyone, digging deeper, finally losing touch with reality until it came crashing down on me.  Chained by my own self, lying on the ground, like a discarded piece of trash.  No one recognized that bundle lying on the floor, so far from what it once was.  Pathetic.

We can all be whatever we want to be, if we try hard enough.  I use to think that meant that we could have whatever we wanted, and I knew that wasn’t true.  But that’s not what it meant at all.  We focus so hard on the end result that we forget where to begin.  Sure, we can be what we want, but first we have to know what we want.  What do we want to accomplish?  Then we have to know who we already are.  You can’t make the appropriate changes if you don’t know what the hell you’ve already got.  Sometimes a few minor alterations are all that’s needed.  Sometimes you got to bull doze the whole damn shack and start over.

The storm brews in my mind, the turmoil and tumult of ideas rushing through, scattering on the floor like millions of marbles garbled in the aftermath of the destruction of me.

recurring voice dream

Old woman gives me or sells me something which takes my voice.  I spend the whole dream trying to break the curse and get it back.

This time, it’s a little different because it cycles… and this time, I think I somehow get sent to the past, where I become the old woman who put a curse on me.

I don’t know what the object was the first time, but this time it was a bundle of sticks in a bag (art project).  At beginning of dream, was having another dream, where I was walking through a house from front to back, repeatedly.  Then Jimmy comes home and starts singing the Beatles song “Anytime at all/I’ll be there” (which was playing on my radio IRL).  He is trying to put the moves on me.  I play with him but then stop.  I try to say something to him, but I can’t.  Then it feels more like I can’t hear, rather than not being able to talk.  I try to turn the music down, but it doesn’t work.  My hearing keeps going in and out, sometimes completely replaced by a lack of sound, except for a ringing in my ears.  Jimmy can’t understand what I’m saying, but I don’t know if it’s because I can’t talk or he can’t hear me over the radio.  He seems to be only interested in the sex.  I keep toying with him, but I’m not sure why.  Maybe just because I’m horny.

Eventually, I walk outside, out the back, to get away from the noise.  Except even outside, my hearing doesn’t get any better.  I can’t hear the song, but I’ve got that ringing.  Then everything is fine and I go to the marketplace.  When I meet the old woman lying on the ground, it starts again.  That’s when I get stuck in the loop of going back in time, growing old, and starting the scenario over again.  Sometimes I can almost hear my own voice through the fog, when I’m screaming, but still, no one else seems able to understand me.  When I am the old woman lying on the ground, no one helps me, but they do harass me.  When I am the young girl, I keep thinking that I should find a way to help the old woman, to be kind to her, but she won’t have it.  As soon as she sees me, there is malice in her eyes, and the curse has begun anew, so I can’t talk to her.