About this Journal
Current Month
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
2627282930
Jul. 10th, 2018 @ 06:44 pm A Long Walk In A Short Town
'A Long Walk In A Short Town' or maybe a better title would be 'Talking In My Sleep' but what's the use of a title when there is no book to put it on?

Starting in July of 2008 this journal is switching from it's previous format of quotes to poetry...my poetry.

All the poetry on my journal is my own and as such my property. Please don't go stealing it, write your own, you can probably do better than me anyways.
About this Entry
lean
3 comments
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Apr. 15th, 2009 @ 05:29 pm (no subject)
It's A Game

It's a game
you tell me
what to think,
then you tell me if
I'm right

April 1981

Faces

It must be
horrible
for a person
who can read
minds
all the time
to walk around
seeing everyone
with translucent
faces

April 1981

1:00

I wanted to cry for the fools
and me
I wanted to cry for love
for I had none
I wanted to cry for the fool in me
the fool that thinks of the past
and cries for in that she feels
she sees the future

April 1981

Poem one; I believe this piece got reused at some point in a longer poem.
Poem two; I think the word 'transparent' might have been more appropriate but 'translucent' works too.
Poem three; Does our past dictate our future? A much debated question, to which I have never completely committed to an answer but I lean more towards 'no' than 'yes'.
About this Entry
lean
3 comments
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Apr. 7th, 2009 @ 09:31 pm (no subject)
Full Moon

The moon rose a bitter yellow
as it hung just above the horizon
it set the mood
more so than anyone noticed
the look in the eyes around me
a picture reflecting in the windows
the curt quick answers
no one cared to talk
playing with labels
on warm beer bottles
still half full
feet tapping nervously to
too loud music
I however did not feel
their unnerved disinterest
I sat in anticipation
I knew there would be screams
and blood
the thought
the picture in my mind
sensing it
knowing of its coming
the adrenalin rush
the quickening of my heart
and it's time
the music is turned off
cigarettes are lit
the screen grows bright
the agonizing minutes are over
phantasm time

March 1981

March is an odd time to be thinking about them but I was, this one is about drive-in movies. There were a couple of summers where I spent a good deal of time at drive-in movies. There were four of them at that time, I think we lost the last one just this past summer. I was the fifth person in the car, as a result I tended to watch the movies. How did I manage to get an invite to the drive-in with no date? I could buy beer, despite my age, I passed for older.

I ended up making my own friends because of my drive-in situation. Having no date, it was not that odd for me to be kicked out of the car and told to go buy popcorn. On one night I was instructed to not come back with out a guy. I was put off by this and visited the concession stand, then leaned up against the projection booth, ate a burger and some popcorn, watched the movie and somewhere between a half and a full hour later returned to the car. I found my friends in a state and about ready to leave, they were going to look for me out on the road because they thought I might be walking home. Well, it was nice that they finally realized the way they were treating me wasn't very nice. So, I decided to fix the date problem. I grabbed an old long sleeved shirt of mine, and with a bit of sewing and stuffing, I had a date. He didn't talk much but if you put him in the corner where the bench seat* meets the door and lean on him he kind of hugs you. And pulling him out of the car between horror movies and waving him around yelling "He's got no head!", or something equally silly, was good for a moments worth of giggles.

I still have my back-up date. I can see him sitting on the floor near the sofa with his friend, who I made some years later when I happened upon the same shirt in a different color. The two of them got called 'Frick and Frack', till the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead made me rename them as 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern'. I like that name for them and it makes odd sense to me, since I have somehow managed to forget whether the green shirt was the first one or if the brown shirt was first. They are rather old and I'd be rid of them by now but I keep finding places where a headless torso, or two, would make good company.

*bench seats in cars, I really am old
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Apr. 2nd, 2009 @ 05:09 pm (no subject)
They All Walk Away

Air floating all around you
and your voice echos in your glass
Think about the picture of a girl
it's really a picture of a hill
Disgust, torment, love but loneliness
watch as they all walk away

March 1981

in circles

like it takes
forever to smoke
a cigarette
and time
is really irrelevant
it all makes sense
in its own way
and in the back
of your mind
your just running
in circles
thinking about tomorrow
and what
the daylight
might bring
a faint memory
of faces
and a brown curtain

March 1981

A Message I'd Like

A smile
A glance
A quiet hello
Then you saw me sitting
in a doorway
changed directions
to speak to me
asked me a question
about classes
and tried to make small talk
as you rubbed the tip of your boot
against the wall
you looked nervous

March 1981

Poem one; People see what they want to see or expect to see, they do like their illusions. Being in love is no guaranty that you will be loved back.
Poem two; Time is weird stuff, even when it seems to be dragging it is going by at warp speed. I'm brushing on the idea of being when you are...most people aren't.
Poem three; If you have been following my poems you will recognize what this one is about.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Mar. 25th, 2009 @ 03:29 pm (no subject)
Staring

I love to be descriptive
especially when I write
That's why I stare into space
or at things
when I write
poetry

For if I stare at you
you could expect a poem
that describes you physically
or the way you react
You see I'm into saying
exactly what I feel
when I write
poetry

March 1981

Parody of Panic

I always thought
you couldn't write tears
till the night
I cried on your letter

March 1981

Untitled

A tear to dilute my life
so I can see through it

It was fall
inside the house
leaves were falling
and the flowers
on the furniture
were all brown

The smoke from my cigarette
curled like the petals
of the pink flower
on my mothers plant

March 1981

Snippets
(that wasn't a title, these are snippets.

A gentle act
...he heard no sound
and spoke not of his dreams
He was to you, a soul
as lost as yours

Clad In Silence
...she walked clad in silence
but ran screaming
through her mind

March 1981

Poem one; This one would be better if I had made it say what I think I was going for, which is that what I write might not be what people want to hear.
Poem two; I get the odd feeling this got reused at some point. And the title makes no sense.
Poem three; I like the first line and probably reused it. My parents have a thing for browns and oranges, I never liked their taste in decorating.
Snippets; These two were lengthy by my standards and only the ends were worth saving.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Mar. 19th, 2009 @ 10:23 pm (no subject)
In Pain

It was so cold and clear out
you could hear everything
the crunch of crystallized snow
like the sound of sand gritting
between you teeth
and a final sizzle
like a drop of water
being spilt on a hot stove element
and the cigarette butt gives out
and dies
I never knew a cigarette
could sound
like it was in pain

February 1981

I don't like how many 'and's I used, I'm sure I could have found a way around some of them if I'd tried. Most people have trouble imagining what it's like to be outside at -40C (or colder), some of us get to experience it all too often. Sound carries very differently after a certain temperature and everything becomes sharp, crunchy...it's hard to explain but has a lot to do with the amount of humidity left in the air, the space between the molecules, how sound is conducted or baffled, and I'm going to stop babbling now.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Mar. 13th, 2009 @ 09:16 pm (no subject)
Longing of Eroded Envy

It wasn't wrong
it wasn't right
we were just part of the night
we left no traces on the trees
we left no marks on the breeze
we sang our song
now all our promises are gone

we made love by the street lights
we went out in the the city's nights
called out for everyone to hear
but the meaning wasn't clear
It's okay to be wrong sometimes
whatever happened
to the dreamer I once knew
was it you?

February 1981

Doing that spelling things in the title again, makes for awkward titles. My opinions about this person changed repeatedly over the time I knew him, not so much because he was changing but because I was. By the time I last saw him I had gone from thinking he was exciting to thinking he was dangerous, I'd also gone from thinking he was masculine to thinking he was violent. I believe I last saw him in early 1984, maybe late 1983. I ended up dropping him with a well placed knee, in a parking lot stairway, he'd given me no choice. He'd grabbed me by the neck twice and I'd brushed his hands off before he got it right and crossed his arms before grabbing the front of my coat. I hadn't been taught really good fighting moves yet so I had to go with the basics. I dislike violence but like being cornered even less.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Mar. 10th, 2009 @ 01:39 am (no subject)
Untitled

Did the door mouse tell you
I was leaving for a while
I'll still be here
but don't ask me to respond
I'm leaving for the back of my mind
where no one can find me

February 1981

EM

I saw a reflection
of myself
in a spoon
we were out
for coffee
and sudenly
I felt upside down

February 1981

A Wine Glass

Her lips held me in a gentle embrace
she drank deep of the sweet nectar I contained
I loved her in all her beauty
but alas I am only a wine glass

February 1981

Poem one; Bit of silliness.
Poem two; The title should be all the way backwards but I was too lazy to look for a backwards font or something to make the title all backwards. Other than that the only thing worth mentioning here is that this was almost the end of my coffee drinking career. By the time I was 19 I could only drink coffee in moderation, prior to that I had consumed coffee by the pot. I am now so badly sensitive to caffeine that I avoid all sources of it. As I have tried very hard to explain to more than one nonbeliever a cup of normal coffee will bring on sweating, rapid heart rate, coffee shakes like those spoken of in jokes and I talk really fast. Two cups will bring on projectile vomiting.
Poem three; 'Her'? Must be some sort of poetic license thing or plagiarism, yes that's it, I stole the idea...must have. I hadn't touched any females in that way but I'd thought about it.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Feb. 25th, 2009 @ 04:46 pm (no subject)
Missing Days

Carla left Wednesday
Someone stole Thursday
It's already Friday
Where is the time?
Maybe I should phone you
I've got a dime
Looking back
through your eyes
I saw the missing days

February 1981

blanket of love

weave me a blanket of stars
of sunsets and night
with bright silver speckle it
weave me a blanket of love
so that when I'm lonely
I can crawl underneath it
and sleep

February 1981

Poem one; Sometimes people waste your time and you don't know they're doing it till after it's been done.
Poem two; Not much to say about this one, I just like it.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link
Feb. 23rd, 2009 @ 05:01 pm (no subject)
Fall

There in the third window from the end
frost hid half your face
your eyes like two black jewels
set in frost they shone
although I could not look
their darkness too deep
the scars of your soul show
reflected in frozen water
your face thin of years
your cloak disappears
hair the color of leaves in fall
brown and dead
swept to the side

You have no name
to my knowledge
yet I proclaim myself
as winter
and thus do I follow
on a carpet of your footsteps
your lips thin wisps of red sky
skin stretched taunt
of delicate beige
your cheeks hold no blood
pale and drawn are you
who stands thin

Barren are your thoughts
you cast me out in your dreams
that you may live forever
I hold my hands to you
arms outstretched
palms turned up
that you might touch
in your reply I saw
that you could not see me
through the ice in your eyes

You have no name
yet I proclaim myself
as winter
and thus do I follow

February 1981

Hmmm, well it's like this... I was really taken with a lad I saw on the bus, a young Viggo Mortensen* clone. It was at least a year later that I finally met him, it was bound to happen (this city isn't that big). We dated on and off, and I mean that in a big way. He was in the habit of dumping me when he was taken with a newer more exciting (read as drama filled) girl. Then when the drama got old he'd be back. If I'd known what polyamory was and he'd been willing, I could have been spared a whole lot of dumpings, but even now he thinks polyamory is wrong. We lost track of each other for a few years then happened upon each other again, and his behavior was repeated. In December of 1992 he finally went farther than what even I can forgive, so I dumped him. Although we have remained in touch and are to a certain level friends, despite his offering, pleading and even attempts at using guilt to get me back, I have held my ground and he remains dumped. I call him my serial-ex.

* not that I had a clue who Viggo Mortensen was back then but he got compared to him a lot over the last eight or so years...drives him up the wall actually.
About this Entry
lean
Leave a comment
Permanent Link