2004-09-27
I Need A New Form Of Communication

hearing: I've listened to everything a bajillion tiiiiiimes. I'm tiiiired of it all now. I need new music. Gar.
reading: In The Days of the Comet by H.G. Wells
feeling: extremely frustrated, unhappy, worthless, depressed

My latest poetry endeavors have all been working towards accurately expressing my feelings. Yesterday's jump started my creativity, and today's were attempts to encapsulate what's going on in my heart and my head.

But...I don't have anything yet which strikes the right chord in me. I guess I just have to keep trying.

I'm not really sure if I can effectively capture my emotional upheavals though. I do my best expression in written word, but it's still such an insufficient medium. I can do a little better when I can lend my voice to my words. To speak, can help convey further what I cannot through pages of scribbles.

But spoken language still so often fails. There are combinations and depths of emotion which it can never effectively communicate.

And I'm afraid I'm stuck in that rut.

I'm going to try a few more pieces, but at this point, I doubt any of them will even aim for encompassing the entirety of what goes on inside me. Now, I only aim for a relief in some direction. I want words to begin to describe my feelings because thus far, I haven't found anyone else's words which fit.

So I'll have to find the words myself.

before & & after



2004-09-27
Emotion Wants To Tell Me What To Do But Life Is More Persuasive

hearing: nothing (music is far too distracting when writing poetry)
reading: In The Days of the Comet by H.G. Wells
feeling: crappy and miserable but poetic

I remember when this scenario was a nightmare which you used to tenderly waken me from

Life is such a harsh slave driver
Whipping us forward at incredible speeds
No time to languish over heartache
Even if that�s all you care to do

Why bother, never bother when apathy�s the only emotion
Writing, sleeping, talking, caring, nothing is worth doing right

Emotion is never a factor in propulsion though
Motivation is never heeded in the blind rhythm of existence
Your only choice is to rush forward at the blinding speed of life

before & & after



2004-09-27
They Didn't Think She Understood But She Knew Too Much

hearing: nothing
reading: In The Days of the Comet by H.G. Wells
feeling: expressive

There is nothing she needs less, than that which is her everything

Her slender fingers trace the tape lines of a murdered sun
She arises and lingers about the room, kicking at the scattered wreckage
Caused by a hurricane sent from her own clear blue eyes
Her soft hands pass over every ruined treasure she helped construct
Rolls of film of sincere smiles
Paper etched with long lost ecstasy
And overall there's a broken record player replaying precious memories in a tune she recalls too well
She clutches things which are no longer hers
Catching herself whispering words she told herself she'd never say again
Stolen verse which still slips from her parched lips

The strong arm of sense reaches out to rebuke her
Throws the volumes of truth in her face
Reopening and bruising her tender wounds
Which shoot darts of sorrow through her weary veins
She turns her back on the windows sense opened
And rolls wishes off her tongue
For his strong arms and warm body
Knowing full well he can only beat her up
But at this point in her home of disbelief
She doesn't care much anymore
Pain will hound her every step across every inch of the map
She might as well live out this pain in bittersweet, comforting memories
And the vacuous arms of her once beloved dead



***************

My heart it hurts
Cause it never catches it's breath
I'm still staying when I should have left

before & & after