It started feeling like October.
Straws grasped
but mine’s too short.
Eyes awake
but mind breaks form.
Mist rises
but leaves no trace.
Realization hits
with no saving grace.
(more…)
November 10, 2008
October 29, 2008
the picture makes a promise; the flesh lets it be broken.
You can close your eyes
and see a picture-perfect life
inside of your mind.
Dreaming only of the days ahead,
wanted and wished for more than now
or the days behind.
You waste your time:
The picture makes a promise; the flesh lets it be broken.
You can never think–
you can’t even stop yourself
before the words have been spoken
And you’ve already said
you would give everything
and something for nothing.
Everybody thinks you’re joking:
The picture makes a promise; the flesh lets it be broken.
When your life is never what you wanted,
not even halfway normal,
just tarnished and soiled…
When in your reach,
a framed and frozen moment,
so far from perfection,
not truth or transcendence
will set you free.
Still you don’t believe:
The picture makes a promise; the flesh lets it be broken.
“You can never think–you can’t even stop yourself before the words have been spoken.” — “Broken” by Tracy Chapman.
October 28, 2008
write it down, but it doesn’t mean you’re not just telling stories.
There is fiction in the space between
the lines on your page of memories.
Write it down, but it doesn’t mean
you’re not just telling stories.
There is fiction in the space between
you and reality.
You will do and say anything
to make your everyday life
seem less mundane.
There’s a science-fiction in the space between
you and me.
A fabrication of a grand scheme
where I am the scary monster.
I eat the city and as I leave the scene,
in my spaceship I am laughing.
In your remembrance of your bad dream
there’s no one but you standing.
“Give us all what we need, give us one more sad sordid story. But in the fiction of the space between, sometimes a lie is the best thing.” – Telling Stories by Tracy Chapman.
October 20, 2008
Happy Panda: Monday. Teen-angst Panda:
Election season sucks.
It’s a wonderful lesson of patience to those of us with growing political concerns who just so happen to be under the legal age. Those of use stuck watching decisions get made about our future that we know are not the decisions we would support or endorse.
But it’s whatever. Let’s just rally the apathetic to get off their asses and fill out a paper. Yannow, with answers they refuse to research or base their knowledge off of their parents, their friends, or the signs sticking out of the ground.
(And on a specific side-note, I find it mildly appalling the amount of “Yes on Hate Eight” signs around this place. I have the design practically memorized. Whereas the No on Eight signs? I have seen them twice, and one was in front of Rob’s house. Interesting.)
What happened to researching a candidates history of decision-making and policy-backing? Or listening to what they have to say based upon that, and not what the tabloid “finds out” in an article next to one about hotel heiresses or tweaked-out Grammy-award winners?
Haha, you want to know something ridiculous? If I heard my own argument, I would tell the whining writer to just shut the hell up since said writer didn’t vote.
Only problem is, that was not of my own accord. No, the government feels that on February 3rd, 2009 the magic faerie of all things “Adult” will bless me with her magic wand, rendering me capable of making decisions and supporting myself and giving me a little voice among millions. (And millions more who care and are silenced.)
Basically, I say fuck this election. To be quite frank (as if I haven’t already) I am just so damn tired of hearing about the same problems with the same people over and over again.
Politics should be like porn. If you’re under-eighteen, you need to keep your eyes and ears away, lest you be tainted. Churches should support this.
Hmm. I should start a campaign. “People for the Defense of Youthful Political Corruption” or some shit like that. (I was never very good with acronyms or naming advocacy groups.) Maybe I could even get some child actors in on it. Make a video discussing the negative effects of anything political on the “growing psyche” of the sixteen and seventeen-year-olds of our beautifully washed-up nation.
I’ll get to work on that. Just as soon as I cure political apathy and make it legal to U-Turn in unmarked intersections in all 49 states. (Alaska doesn’t really matter to me right now. It should, but, we know how that goes.)
- Mat.
June 23, 2007
don’t look up, just let them think there’s no place else you’d rather be.
it’s obvious that you’re dying,
dying.
just living proof
that the camera’s lying.
and oh, oh, open wide.
this is your night,
so smile.
’cause you’ll go out in style.
“don’t you know by now: you can’t turn back, because this road is all you’ll ever have.” — Fences by Paramore.
June 13, 2007
i’ve got a lot to say to you. yeah, i’ve got a lot to say.
they taped over your mouth
scribbled out the truth with their lies
you little spies.
nothing compares to
a quiet evening alone.
just the one
two of us is counting on.
that never happens,
i guess i’m dreaming again,
let’s be more than
this.
“if you wanna play it like a game, well come on, come one, let’s play. ’cause i’d rather waste my life pretending, than have to forget you for one whole minute.” - Crushcrushcrush by Paramore.
May 30, 2007
i’m a whisper in water; a secret for you to hear.
i’m a fountain of blood
in the shape of a girl.
you’re the bird on the brim,
hypnotized by the whirl.
drink me - make me feel real.
wet your beak in the stream.
game we’re playing, is life.
love’s a two way dream.
you are the one who grows distant,
when i beckon you near.
“i’m a path of cinders, burning under your feet. you’re the one who walks me, i’m your one way street.” — Bachelorette by Björk
May 14, 2007
i have lost my origin… and i don’t want to find it again.
lust for comfort
suffocates the soul
this relentless
restlessness
liberates me
sets me free
“did I imagine it would be like this, was it something like this I wished for… or will I want more?” — Wanderlust by Björk; from the album “Volta.”
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May 3, 2007
-sigh-
je ne peux pas dormir. fraga a besoin d’emmener sa grand-mère à l’hopital pour quelque chose.
et quand j’ai lu son blog, j’avais été rendu avec des emotions… interessants.
je ne suis pas sûr pourquoi j’écris ce blog en français, mais je préfererai qu’il est en français.
je ne veux pas ce blog être très long. je ne suis pas assez fort en français comme je quelquefois pense.
—
elle a dit qu’elle est “pushing me away.” je ne peux pas le voir. je ne peux pas voir ce qu’elle parle. et il me rend confus.
—
je suis préparé aller à France. aidez-moi? héhé.
je vais au lit. (j’oublie comment le dit-on.)
ciao, à bientôt.
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