A Working Mind (10/30/11)

My Force if psychotic, untold energy

My Thoughts are neurotic, control all I see

My Self is reflective, I look upon “me”

This poem is reflexive, a reference to all three

Inevitability (10/30/11)

Time will eventually change, and people will too

The reasons are many, the reasons are few

The person you are, your being through and through

Will eventually fade, replaced by something new

Though this subtle change may occur out of the blue

I assure you this fact leads to change you’ll renew

Come now, let’s all start anew

Changed Minds (10/30/11)

Paradigm’s gift and insight’s light

Exposure to one for many’s too bright

Yet indulgence in the other leaves reason in night

The balance between is my ideal sight

The foundation of belief and paradigm thought

That intrinsic relief at all that’s been wrought

The view of another and their paradigm too

Understanding of each other, learn a perspective that’s new

To the Flock (10/30/11)

To be true to oneself is the epitome of will

The culmination of free thought for all

The decisions of oneself in form and being

Answer to none but your own call!

Fear not the gaze of hostile soul

Shy not from desire and thought

Though sheep you may be, have not a stern shepherd

Be the law under which you’ve been caught!

Colored Emotion (10/29/11)

What matter of mindset should I begin to use?

Shall I settle for impotent rage?

Shall I mope and miser in darkest depths

Shall I focus on peaceful and sage?

Of course these are but acts that I enact

Upon this splendid stage

And the organization of this thought

Is written upon this page

I Personally feel that this is complete bullshit (10/29/11)

The idea of an IP is the ID of one’s property, 

yet the controversy is inherently over the legitimacy of what we see 

(with covers and tributes and fans)

Yet to be aggressive over how possessive some feel they have been messed with is simply reflexive, 

until naught but tyranny remains 

(with censors and felons and bans)

Hollow Interest (10/29/11)

The absurdity of this holiday is that everyone acts the same

United response held throughout this whirling masquerade game

Unlimited potential, in any form once can name

And the revelry’s infectious, to an extent in which it’ll shame

From the simple to the complex, from the risqué to the tame

For all this pandemonium, society’s to blame

The Function of Conflicting Interactionalism (10/24/11)

I suppose the main issue is that I’m out of practice

What was once easy has become difficult with time

I am used to an affair upon which I relied

A change from an old paradigm

Though I am now as I was before those two years of change

I still am as I was in-between

Thus the process of reversion is dependent on recursion

To walk straight again without a shoulder to lean

So what I do not miss is her as many would easily assume

In a sense, that one has disappeared

No trace of the familiar or the characteristics defined

A difference from what was once revered

Nor that statement of old and the routine sans design

As they wore away from constant use

Nor the chaos of life and its factors within

The patience against periodic abuse

Nor can I complain of the result that resulted

For I saw its conclusion long ago

Not can I in face of that slight be insulted

At the fact of something I already know

And I was months ahead in the prediction of what was

And saw the finale before

That day that I had confirmation of fact

And shut that meta and physical door

I suppose the issue is now is that I’m curious again

Yet those other parties seem to want to hide

Information’s my drug, and they withhold it from me

But with my patience, time I will bide

What infuriates is that it’s assumed that I am opposed to this course

That I would respond unfavorably, and with physical force

That he presumes that I am blind, deaf, and possibly dumb

So as to ignore his obvious avoidance and what will likely come

His worries are obvious, and predictably unfounded

There’s little to fear if this course comes naturally without thought

And if it is her will by which this silence is maintained

Embolden Yourself! You’re already caught :P

The States of Affairs (10/24/11)

I suppose my problem now is a build with no outlet

No sympathetic ear upon which to confide

Thus the pressure builds within to reach a critical point

The pressure of ideas held inside

I contemplate things in a manner unending

I hammer at that which is unyielding, unbending

I mold and I form possibilities into scale

And enact that which will surely fail

So my only recourse with this buildup of thought

Is to gather and gather, and examine what’s caught

And refine what I want into a matter expressed

And give them to you in the form I deem best

And with the rejects, the fragments, the failure

I am still enraptured with their iridescent allure

Hypocritical Paradox (10/24/2011)

Upon idle reflection my thoughts contradict

Upon further inspection, they ramble and rave

Upon every inflection personal thoughts they inflict

Upon casual rejection they save

Yet they embody me, and my own chaotic state

The creativity that ebbs but refuses to abate

And the lies of my thoughts and my words are a truth

When their meaning distorts in a matter uncouth

I’ve worn many faces, and wear many still

As one said once to me before

I do not wear my emotions upon tattered sleeve

It is pain that this face will ignore

Though my condition is fine, it is not in the slightest

I am in flux with equilibrium, in balance

I go every which way in rejection to what I say

And yet in a single spot is where I will stay

So while my forced cheer becomes the mask that I wear

While the face laments time so far gone

I embody the fool, mechanized fate’s tool

And to this world, I say “BRING IT ON!” 

Reflection (Magia) (6/17/11)

The story of those who fight darkness
It has been done many times before
The question is then on which side one stands
And what their choice has in store

The struggle against fate and uncover the truth
That darkness calls light, and light fades to dark
That the root is the problem, and the problem the root
And the soul gem is the devil's mark

The story of those who fight darkness
And of the weak girl who watched from the side
As two heroes fought on for the sake of others
Who took all hardship in stride

Yet as one fell in battle and the other lay defeated
The bystander had made a choice
To invoke a wish, to go back she entreated
A wish made with sorrowful voice

The story of those who fight darkness
And the girl who know what would come
To prepare for the threat that approached
To make use of repeated knowledge's sum

Yet the betrayal still stood
And the heroes did fall
It was apparent to the girl that numbers were insufficient
If any were to survive a all

The story of those who fight darkness
Again in a repetition of fate
More heroes were gathered to repel the threat
Yet it all seemed too little, too late

And as a truth surfaced and a hero fell
The leader went mad with regret
And so heroes remained to face the impossible
And were crushed by the imminent threat

The story of those who fight darkness
But this time the girl was prepared
To protect her friend from that deal with the devil
To save her before she was ensnared

To prevent a wish from being cast in vain
To rewrite time from the start
To at least save her one friend from a fate worse than death
Though her previous failures had hardened her heart

And so the heroes all gathered, and they fell in time
And the friend was kept pushed to the side
And as her not-quite-a-friend kept on fighting the threat
She realized this outcome she could not abide

So she made her wish with the devil
On the battlefield in that place
A wish and a curse that could transcend all
To rewrite both time and space

A paradox in itself, a sin against the wish
Yet the wish came true, and it was and will be
And though the darkness exists, the sacrifice is gone
Though that, no one but homura can see

Nostalgia (Hagaren) (6/17/11)

The process of science made magic made weapon
Is much like when man became god
The idea of natural limit was breached
With alchemy, impossibility was shod

The ability to form the world on a whim
To alter all that is and will be
Yet as all things, change has a price
An irrefutable fact those brothers did see

To play as a god meant to pay back their dues
An equivalency that began their trip
Along the way, with others chaos ensues
To lead to the ending world flip

The gathering of both sins and mistakes
And the selfishness of whom they obey
And the price of the goal they had set out to find
Tobira no mukou e

But another story exists, another tale to be told
Of xing, of Briggs, of central
Of homunculi, of chimeras, and of man himself
And the differences purely mental

The collaboration of humans and chimera alike
The cresting of blood along the way
And the hubris of man revealed as a price
In exchange for all, to all he must pay

Note-taker (6/17/11)

The responsibility made for the taking of notes

To stimulate the order of mind

Is worth naught but regret if the keeper is idle

To that note, both deaf and blind

Nostalgia (Tachikoma) (6/17/11)

The ghost in the shell shows mind within body

yet body exists temporally

so as time moves on, the ghost may be gone

without a trace of who it could be

If we feel for the world with our container-shells

If our force-inherent is our guide

Once the container is switched, what proof do we have

That the contents remain the same inside

And what of those without forces, who were originally shells?

What chance is there for the container to fill?

Does it take experience of a theater’s shared force?

Or just a little oil spill?

Enraptured (5/21/11)

It seems today should have been the end

The 11th hour should have told

Of those who assent to their ascent

On divinity of brightest gold

Yet the 11th hour came and we all stood

As mundane as we had began

Those of us here have all assumed

We had done all that we can

But others may assert that the event was a fraud

And the true test is yet to come

That a grandiose event both here and abroad

A denial that I think is dumb

A Musing (6/15/11)

I muse to a muse, and amusement ensues

To me, words and rhymes are a game

Though this feeling of elation, of some celebration

Doubtless to others is not quite the same

A hobby’s a hobby, and interest’s interest

Only accumulates in a steady flow

Language serves as a puzzle, to confuse and befuddle

And lead one to wherever he may go

If a word does not mesh, one must immediately refresh

His vocabulary for more words of use

Or rethink his point, and arrive pointedly

At the doorstep of dear doctor Seuss

Nostalgia (Tiaga) (6/15/11)

The tiger on palmtop was fierce indeed

As was the dog made dragon made man

And the story of two delinquents joining forces in arms

In the pursuit of doing what they can

What began as two lines, parallel and congruent

Ended in an open trapezoid

Via connection of vectors through the overly mundane

The trigonometry I usually avoid

Of aliens and ghosts, of masks and of faces

Of pursuit of an uncertain goal and dream

The tiger and the dragon, the fiercest of beasts

Neither is honestly to others as they seem

Yet if the gaze of the dragon and the strength of the tiger

Are naught by illusion and smoke

As were the words and wishes of the god of love

What emotion does this shape invoke

Three "writes" are all that's left

The writing of words give breath to my thoughts

And yet so many words now lie here

So the thoughts must exist in a greater amount

Due to writing, the difference is sheer

But consider the container for these two separate things

First see the size of this page

And the 32 others before, and for later much more

Words recorded with intent to engage

So then what of the thoughts and their space in me

How much space is there for them in my mind

The answer is strange, because in fact there is none

Search all you want, there’s nothing to find

Musically Inclined

Music is a distraction, a way to occupy

Music is interaction, between me and the sky

Music is a diversion, to help the passage of time

Music is introversion, to silence my rhyme

To be fair, the distraction is a weakness of mind

To be fair, the air is the instrument of mine

To be fair, time’s eddies flow without end

To be fair, the message is made, but I refuse to send.

Recording Complete (6/14/11)

I have finally finished recording my work

Saving it within digital pages

Now no matter what happens to this diary

These words may survive for ages

A month spent on transcribing my thoughts

Though those thoughts were just echoes of old

My proof to myself that I have words to write

An entity more valued than gold

A process of updates and modifications to be made

And to my horror, verses incomplete

And revisions to my wording, and titles to be made

And frustration that my inspiration did deplete

So from henceforth each poem stands alone as itself

The Core Series ended in the 4th month then

I’ve ideas to address, I have thoughts to explore

Well, Cya later then!

In response to 6/7/11’s 11:29 text (6/8/11)

The concern was voiced just yesterday

“Has the passage of time made us strange?”

“Are the perceived flaws of our current selves

Due to some fault that we arrange?”

Why is it we lost what was once held dear?

Why has the world changed us so?

Why is it as what was far draws near

Do we feel it won’t come, but instead go?

My answer to that is that time is at fault

That it wears away all with its passing

That nothing remains unchanged in that flow

That those changed are always amassing

The change is inevitable, as a spiraling self

The consequence of both growth and age

Things will be lost and be found, objects made as they fade

Creation/Destruction, both on this page

Shining Hope (12/26/10)

Have you seen that angel fly?

Soar across the shifting sky?

The light and love of all we have

Will shine upon those wings

Our dreams, they never die

Never give up, and never cry

They just live, evermore, as a shifting shore

To the beach that we all go

So let it flow

That rainbow light up above

Becomes everything I love

Eternity and truth is ours

It’s all within our souls

All that’s needed is a step

A start on that winding trek

What we find on the way is something that’ll stay

Together with us for our lives

One thousand shining words

They glitter endlessly

They light my path to home

Shining in my dreams

The written verse I see

Embodies all that’s me

They will shine, they define my colored soul

They will paint out all I know

So on my canvas mind

Someday I hope you will find

My belief, my relief of my fragile thoughts

And in them, my eternal road

That rainbow light up above

Becomes everything I love

Eternity and truth is ours

It’s all within our souls

All that’s needed is a step

A start on that winding trek

What we find on the way is something that’ll stay

Together with us for our lives

Cause it’s never too late to try

(If we try for that big surprise)

Cause it’s never really goodbye

(together for all our lives)

And so it begins…

To all my friends from Albion (5/3/11)

The end of the year has quickly approached

Our assurance of time and opportunity encroached

The subject of separation hesitantly broached

And the future uncertain to all

For me, this is the last of my time as a colleague

The end of my Briton days

Though in truth this means little to my everyday life

I am quite stubbornly set in my ways

The (Brief) return of movie night (4/14/11)

An idea abandoned long ago

A gathering to which none came

Has risen anew for the end of this age

A return to that glorious stage

In reflection (5/3/11)

The jokes we’ve made together stand

Our whimsical gifts, what we did demand

The occurrences of life, the parties we planned

Will fade away in time

Yet their existences remain

Permanent making or possibly stain

A note for my forgetful brain

That they exist in rhyme

Yeah, I REALLY didn’t feel like studying for finals that night (5/3/11)

The gift of company is one best shared

Be it given in terms spontaneous or prepared

The attentions of all by one thing ensnared

A fellowship of figments abound

Naught needed but a variety of people

Together under one roof, be it house or steeple

The simplicity of wonder will always astound

The glory of image and sound

So revel in the chaos that ensues

We it made with many, or simply with two

Treasure what you make and what you do

Understand what you have found

Series Core (April 2011)

Fool of the 4th month (4/1/11)

In honor of this glorious day

I won’t write a single line

I won’t think, compose, or arrange any words

In a form pointed or benign

I won’t display a message or rally a cause

No meaning or value here

No remarks to enflame of insult will follow

Not compliments made to endear

In short there is nothing that I want to say

No point made within all my thought

I’m on vacation today, a break from my pen

A reprieve for my time I have bought

Introspection (4/11/11)

Have you ever considered the power of silence

The heavy toll nothing has on thought

A gap in the input that distracts and alert mind

The heavy burden containing naught

To contemplate silence is to consider blankness

To embrace silence is to submit to inaction

To endure silence, it shall then oppress

To be silent is putrefaction

Though this view inverts if you make a change

A paradigm shift shall rearrange

All manner of things from common to strange

Look different with the game board flipped

In the end, the issue depends on your view

And your interpretations are based on what’s true

But if you believe you’ll be a blind-deaf mute

I’d have to perceive you as “Not very astute”

The chemistry of you (4/18/11)

Have you ever considered what mattered with matter

When the matter of the matter mattered to you?

Why we focus on ashes and dusts at a wake

When we are really just earth, through and through

Consider your cup, or a flask, or a bottle

What purpose they have, what concept they model

Most would say as containers of that valuable substance

The unconsidered necessity, H2O

We often don’t consider the way that it’ll stay

Easy come, easy go is easy to say

But remember that most of your body has form

That is filled to the brim with H2O

But consider the cycle of molecular return

There is no identifying trait you could possibly discern

To identify past use for present use now

And so the world keeps turning

Chaos (4/18/11)

We all seek order, but what does that mean?

Why do we always wish that things are what they seem

Why do we protest an unexpected change?

Why do we fear and hate all that’s strange?

Why do we pursue the idea of truth?

Why do we subsist on lies?

Why is it we have so much difficulty?

In the end, how many tries?

Me (4/20/11)

A dabbler in many trades

A true master in none

The indecision of the pursuit of the many

The inability to isolate one

Poetry (4/24/11)

The poet’s means is not his pen

Nor paper set aside

Nor is it Rhyme or Reason set

Rules to which he must abide

What makes a poet a poet is this:

A musical, lyrical soul

The ability to take his fragments of thought

And forge them into a solid whole

Series Core (March 2011)

March 2011

Proemse (3/1/11)

Yes, I know that I’m cheating by writing right now

It’s 12:16 AM the next day

But a daily quota set is no reason to stop

And leave thoughts wherever they lay

I just remembered a topic that was brought up a lot

Within my mind (There’s a council, don’t judge me!)

And before I forget and worry and fret

I feel it best to record it (Wouldn’t you agree?)

The topic is poems and my use for them

Yes I know it seems hard to forget

When the medium’s the topic I’m scrambling for

A mind unfocused is one that’s not set!

My thoughts had been centered on the fact that I find

More pleasure in verse than in text

More time with a rhyme was certainly a sign

That with prose I was easily vexed

I think it’s just due to the fact that there’s rules

And here I can be more oblique

And be vague every line, and to words I assign

A certain feel of mystique

Well this poem has a pause of which it’s cause

Is the sleep that my mind will demand

After a brief interlude, I will see fit to resume

This topic I have on hand

So here I am after a good night’s rest

Though my dreams showed me chaos within

Of passion like fire, of every desire

Of who I could be, or have been

Anyway, back to prose, the thing everyone knows

I like to think it’s easy to write

But my thoughts go astray and my point wanders away

And I just give up without much of a fight

*whirrrrr* (3/1/11)

My computer fan has been driving me mad

It just runs and runs all the time

More persistent that any update box

Or any “Low battery” chime

While I know that a fan is needed to cool

The inner workings of the system

If it’s toned down a notch and the sounds went away

I honestly would not miss them

This dense CPU honestly needs a clue

As to what’s a priority in each instance

As it keeps acting up on the slightest occurrence

On a blank session with ZERO resistance

It probably needs a vacation from my modification

Of its processes or the latest sensation

I should let it alone or acknowledge I’ve grown

To like the problems as a form of elation

The Scale of the font’s the title (3/1/11)

I’m a little annoyed that a number is me

In the grand scheme of academia

I mean, my whole life’s been a race for an arbitrary grade

With race hurdles slowing me with each flaw

And if you think about it, the goal is to reach another line

And that line start the next race anew

And so on and so forth the racer runs on

With breaks that are far between and few

And before you know it half your day’s long gone

And you know only your own sweat and toil

And you find out from others who have finished before

That half was superfluous soil

So how do you spend the rest of the day?

Continue on for a victory lap?

Have a party with friends or make plans for a while?

As for me, I’ll just take a nap

This brings me back to the forefront of my mind (3/2/11)

Have you ever considered how who you are now

Depends on who you were then?

How the lens that you view this world through

Is shaped mostly by where you have been?

My memories swirl like a leaf in the wind

When I perchance to reflect

Upon all the things that my past has held

Things I did and didn’t expect

To observe something fully, one must be outside

But to change it, you have to be within

For accurate reflection some rules must abide

To clear up the clamor and din

In memory of Animeted.org (3/3/11)

How I remember those days of our old forum group

How we’d prattle on and on about life

Our frequent discussion of topics abound

And the random stabby time with a knife

Nothing accomplished (sadly true) but plenty fun to be had

Alter egos on every other page

And in the lead of spam, infinite possibility

For laughter, for sorrow, for rage

So I embarked on a trip today down memory lane

5 doors down, then a left, then a right

To look with a fondness upon a carefree past

To remember an ancient delight

Much to my surprise, the domain has quite changed

No longer is it our old home

Now it’s a site used to search for all things

A magazine, a film or a tome

Gloomy Days (3/4/11)

My mood is tied to the view outside

Melancholy with skies of gray

Clouds above, no sun to see, an unending breeze

Makes for a very gloomy day

The issue’s not raining, it’s energy draining

The lack of life out there

Throughout the day, I’ll let things lie where they lay

I just can’t find the energy to care

Every task’s drudgery, every task’s troublesome

And I just can’t keep track of the time

So the day just drags on, and nothing is done

Guess I’ll just move along with this rhyme

Make up your own damn titles (3/5/11)

For the first time this week, the poetry’s a chore

But I still want to continue on

A break in a promise that I can’t ignore

A deadline to write before dawn

To be fair, the title has been planned for a while

A concept made just for shiggles

By the way, I use words as I see fit

Hence the union of “shits” and “giggles”

My word, this is a first use of epithets to date

(And did I just start writing in “British”)

I guess I need sleep more than I previously thought

So this sentence is a concluding finish

Pair o’ D’s (3/6/11)

The title’s phonetic, please ignore the text

Crude humor is certainly strange

A viewing of series abridged and remixed

Provide for a humorous range

I guess my viewing is to pass the time

Or kill it as the saying goes

And find some humor within absurdity

Some mockery everyone knows

Yet these parodies are their own works in a way

With jokes and gags of their own

Catchphrases and mannerisms ingrained in each setting

That would fail is used alone

A Neverending Story (3/7/11)

Hey don’t you hate it when a story ends

When the words are laid to rest

When the pen is dry and conflict is resolved

And all plot occurrences confessed

You feel there is more to be said

More to a world you’ve begun to explore

More “What if”s and “So then”s that pique your interest

More vistas of that distant shore

But worst of all is that barrier there

A divide between “reality” and dream

The difference between fantasy and the fact of your life

Between dull and impossible gleam

Hiatus (3/12/11)

It’s been a while since I last wrote

Idleness suits me quite poorly

Several tasks to attend to and plenty of time

You’d think writing would be simple, surely

I idled about attending to matters ubiquitous

I worked with some notion of place and time

I worked on what I felt like on whim

Based on daylight bright or dim

Some things were accomplished and polished too

Some were left for a later date

Some picked up, examined, then cast aside

Until a time they relate

Inspiration (3/19/11)

I might have said inspiration flows

On its own, it stays where it fell

But the shaky truth my inspiration knows

Is that creation may not go that well

I admit that it can be a chore

A drudgery sometimes to write

A task and an assignment, a dreadful bore

Procrastinated until late at night

The issue is clear, it’s a problem with me

Of things to which I am attracted

Diversions abound, other topics around

Which I am easily distracted

So if gaps ‘tween these pages extend for ages

And a set schedule is mine to rend

My creative fruit is in some other pursuit

To be used to some other end

Reality (3/21/11)

What we see and what we hear

Smell, taste, and feel each day

Is it really real to us?

Are things as we often say?

Can you be sure that the past exists?

Can you be sure the future lies ahead?

Are you sure you know what it means to live?

Do you know what it is to be dead?

My personal thought is that I’m happy right now

My life style’s pretty laid back

Passive to all ends, carefree in my days

Always defend, and never attack

I don’t have a goal, and I see no path ahead

I live only in the here and now

What concerns me concerns me, and an untrue self

Is something I’ll never allow

But enough about me, onto reality

Onto questions of matter and form

On to what is and what isn’t, what could be and can’t

What is peculiar and what is the norm

Did yesterday’s face really exist to you?

Will tomorrow’s face be the same?

Who’s to say where reality begins and ends?

Load and save on a video game

What proof do you have that this world isn’t new?

Newly made, with no history behind

Instantaneous in, and instantaneous out

No way to support or deny in kind

Things exist because they exist, or they don’t because they don’t

Logic circles never really end

I’ll think of these things even if others won’t

But a final note to you, I’ll extend

Unanswerable truth matters not to most men

What matters is a truth that will stand

Under scrutiny of senses, under logic and thought

Within answers that we will demand

So I can say that I exist as much as my thoughts exist too

0=0, or 1=1

Absolute may be far, out of reach like a star

But really, that’s part of the fun

Nostalgia (Swings) (3/23/11)

Do you remember those days on the after-school swings?

Meetings by “Chance”, a carefree chat?

The time spent discussing a myriad of things

Enjoying that place where we sat

Do you remember the lunch-hour table?

Of idle or random discussion?

Do you remember full orchestra?

(The constant critique of percussion?)

Do you remember afternoon hours,

Spent on clubs, on projects for art?

The time spent on aimless wandering

No set end, and no memorable start?

While that time and place are distant to me now

My memories of them remain

To reflect ‘pon those days with fondness and envy

Some sentiment empathy will regain

Anime (3/24/11)

In a way I like stories, and I always have

I’d like to say that I always will

I enjoy the perspective of different worlds

And the situation from someone of skill

I love the immersion into a far distant land

The excitement, the sadness, the love

The ideas of the possible, the unlikely, the absurd

Of forces found below, around, and above

To accept them as real for the briefest of moments

To consider fiction as reality for a while

To believe in ideals, in dreams, in fate

To enjoy a frown, tears, or a smile

And though the context is false, the lesson is true

Moral and meaning still have their worth

To be applied to your life as a general rule

A better self you can unearth

Nostalgia (Tabi) (3/27/11)

It’s funny how we found that show

By delaying our division of path

By browsing by name and discovering a tale

Centered ‘round legends and math

We both fully enjoyed it, and enjoyed it again

And hold hope we’ll enjoy it once more

Be it the Spice or the Wolf, or the story of travel

(Or maybe that music score)

The dreams it inspired, the plans that we made

Though unfulfilled, never begun

They exist to me as a possibility

And a reminder of a past filled with fun

And there’s a certain correlation to future expectation

A freedom not found in this world

The Time’s declaration taken into consideration

Overall leaves that dream unfurled

Nostalgia (Dango) (3/27/11)

A story told from the point of a guy

Of sadness, of fond memories

A story of a world that ended continues

Of love, of living, of trees

The story of redemption for perceived sins

The story of what’s wanted the most

The story of how family matters to all

The story of a wandering ghost

The story of emptiness, or impending doom

The story of loss and despair

But to the place in this city where dreams come true

“Shall I take you there?”

The dreams and the light cast within that city

Determination to try, succeed or fail

Of the next generation, and the one before

A truly inspiring tale

Existence (3/28/11)

I delude myself not to know good or evil

To see things as black or white

I believe the result varies on one’s eyes

And the context from which they will sight

The overall means are just means to an end

To justify action and thought

Perspective will differ and change the result

Redefine answers you’ve caught

What concerns man is only the earth

This idea is what I believe

What comes next is no concern of mine

The end result I’ll happily receive

The sorrow felt at a morning wake

Is the loss of an idea’s source

The knowledge held by the fallen one

Erased in due course

Myself (3/29/11)

This mortal shell, this fragile being

I don’t think this is me

This sense of self is so defined

By what I feel and see

Yet what is this really, this carbon cast?

Is it set, is it constant, does it change?

Can you truly say it’s the same all the time?

Lacking variety and range?

I’d say that I am a mixture of both

Mental thought and coincidental form

Father funny from a certain perspective

As both easily fit within a norm

The body is ubiquitous with little to show

Of unique traits and abilities

The mind is the same, for it can only know

What is supplied from its bodily facilities

A soul is in question, is it energy or more?

A driving force, or a medium between

A being is a unit in which the above store

The form in which I can be seen

I forgot (3/30/11)

I forgot the topic of the poem I wanted to write

I wanted to finish the one before

I guess this will teach me the value of NOTES

For the ideas I’ll temporarily ignore

Or I could be free of my OCD

And let some ideas slip by

The majority of my time is not spent on rhyme

And only at night do I try

Any anyway this diary has a questionable fate

(Though diary fits only in a sense)

I want to believe I’ll publicize these

Though that excuse may well be pretense

Oh well, I’m most sure that the thought will return

What was once thought may be thought of again

I may catch it next time, or let it slip by

Where it goes may well be where it’s been

To she that worries (3/31/11)

To me, friendship’s and interesting quandary

Hard to come by, but resolute and strong

Once you have broken through my inner shell

We’ll always get along

To me, the most important fact is

That we can see upon reflection

A time in which we both agreed

That we had a personal connection

Though times have changed and the world has too

And thoughts and feelings blur

We still can be close friends

Of this fact I am sure