Alone I wish to walk,
battling my internal conflict.
I pray for strength,
but I'm destined to break.
Your sympathy and words of care leave me stripped bare.
You seem so sincere, but I don't care!
My heart is torn,
why do you persist?
You joke, we tease, but it is insufficient for me.
would you please refrain?
I'm left wanting a change.
Melancholy ensues, blocking my view.
Could you please move?
You laugh and tease, leaving me in a dream.
Please Please refrain.
Stop laughing, stop smiling.
Can't you see this is hurting me?
Solitude embrace me.
I'll accept thee.
Arbitrary Fame is based on my personal concept of definition. Definition is innate. It is a silhouette on the horizon. Definition comes in many different ways. Some are personal and only we, ourselves, understand them. Other forms of definition are dependant on our interactions and relationships with the people around us. I am a brother, a son, a friend, and a writer. These are my writings. This is me.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
My Name
The south seas called my name,
birds and fish, the people too.
they called my name and I came.
For days I stayed remembering
not much more than that.
It was good because
The seagulls cry, but their noises are washing away like the breakers. What I really notice is the soft green wood planks that line the pier. There are some cement posts too, but even these seem soft. Everything seems soft and green. The water and the wood, the grass and the rocks. Not hard green, or bright, but a various shade of green. The water is the darkest green. The wood on the pier is also green, but this is mixed with dark browns. A slight fishy tang tickles my sense of smell. Just like the light breeze does to my hair. The morning air is slighty chilly but not enough to make me stop. A few boats are tied up. They rock gently in the rising tide. In the distance a lone seagull dives into the water. I can't see if it caught a fish. Even with all of these silent noises romping about, I feel relaxed.
birds and fish, the people too.
they called my name and I came.
For days I stayed remembering
not much more than that.
It was good because
The seagulls cry, but their noises are washing away like the breakers. What I really notice is the soft green wood planks that line the pier. There are some cement posts too, but even these seem soft. Everything seems soft and green. The water and the wood, the grass and the rocks. Not hard green, or bright, but a various shade of green. The water is the darkest green. The wood on the pier is also green, but this is mixed with dark browns. A slight fishy tang tickles my sense of smell. Just like the light breeze does to my hair. The morning air is slighty chilly but not enough to make me stop. A few boats are tied up. They rock gently in the rising tide. In the distance a lone seagull dives into the water. I can't see if it caught a fish. Even with all of these silent noises romping about, I feel relaxed.
Give and Take
“He who giveth can also taketh away”
I gave my heart. It had only been a look.
A look was all it took.
I had to take a breadth
just to make sure I could.
When I looked away, you walked the other way.
My heart, well,
it remained.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Considerate Feelings of Nothingness
Descending from above, not unlike the creator of a dove. A multi
The string pulls at the puppets arm; raising and then lowering it. Another string moves the leg. One step, then another, then another. Quizzically the puppets head turns, pulled by yet another string. The puppet lurches forward. a string is pulling at its chest. Panic enters his eyes. All these strings, pulling every which way. Where was his control? The string attached to his arm became taught, his arm began to rise. He tried to resist, he tried to pull down, but his arm still rose. Then his other arm followed suit. He spun around. These strings controlled him, pulling every which way. His only hope of freedom was to break them.
The puppet breaks the strings that control him. Just to realize they were not controlling, they were moving him.
Jumbled in a lifeless, wooden heap, the puppet realized his mistake. The strings were keeping him awake?.
The string pulls at the puppets arm; raising and then lowering it. Another string moves the leg. One step, then another, then another. Quizzically the puppets head turns, pulled by yet another string. The puppet lurches forward. a string is pulling at its chest. Panic enters his eyes. All these strings, pulling every which way. Where was his control? The string attached to his arm became taught, his arm began to rise. He tried to resist, he tried to pull down, but his arm still rose. Then his other arm followed suit. He spun around. These strings controlled him, pulling every which way. His only hope of freedom was to break them.
The puppet breaks the strings that control him. Just to realize they were not controlling, they were moving him.
Jumbled in a lifeless, wooden heap, the puppet realized his mistake. The strings were keeping him awake?.
Loyal as a Dog
What makes a truly great friend? From my experiences, being able to trust someone is the key ingredient to true friendship. When you are in a bind these friends will always be right beside you. Unfortunately this caliber of friendship is rare to come by. Most people are inherently good, but when it comes down to it they look out for themselves first. A truly great friendship is one in which you know the guy beside you would sacrifice everything for you. It isn't easy to become this kind of friend. I find it all too natural to serve my needs first.
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