Yearning

I can't decide whether I
want
need
And I wonder if the decision
is really up to me
Or if what I long for
is also what I breathe

Whether it's
you
not
If I'm too stubborn or scared
to take even a well-aimed shot
To let you take part
in the how/where/why/what

What is my reply to the
heartbeat
heartburn
To jump into the lesson
and to finally then learn
Or pass it by altogether
and for always, still yearn?

Youth Camp, October 2011

I'd love nothing more than to take your sadness
The air you breathe is filled with my sweetness
You can not hide you can't run from my goodness

I will chase you
I will chase you
I will chase you until I catch you
Until I catch your heart

There's nothing you've done
There is nothing you've done
That could make me take my love 
from you

Won't you run to me
Won't you run to me
Won't you run to me
My arms are open wide
For you

There's nothing you've done
That could make me take my love
Away

I'd love nothing more than to take your sadness
The air you breathe is filled with my sweetness
You cannot run you can't hide from my goodness

–

In the Simplest of Things

Unsure where to call home,
Even less certain of the road.

And still, I can't deny the sun,
I can't but find hope.

Scraps...

I swore I'd never feel again.
I swore I'd never let my heart love again.
Because it hurts too much.

And I thought I'd convinced myself
That you weren't worth another scattered heart
But here I've go
I've given you a little bit of my soul
And hold on, hold on, hold on, hold
Please don't let it go.

I'm waiting. I'm here waiting.

But you know the best thing
Is Jesus
Because he thinks I'm worth the trouble
Of another scattered heart
Even though we hurt him so much
Even though I fall and I fail
He is so close
And his face is in front of mine

I was sitting in the garden
And the air was pretty chilly
I was feeling the cold wind upon my face
And as you sat beside me, as you started crying
I asked you what was wrong about this place

And you said 'It's nice, but the truth is
One day I will grow old
And when that day finally comes
What will happen to my soul?'

'I can't breathe
These anxieties
Have got me around the throat
And I can't sleep
When I'm thinking of this
But I still can't let it go'

We were sitting on the pavement
Throwing leaves into the gutter
And I didn't know what to say
So you wrapped yourself around me, put your head upon my shoulder
And in your arms I stayed

And the truth is
One day we will grow old
And when that day finally comes
What will happen to our souls?

I can't breathe
These anxieties
have got me in a choke
And I wish away these fears
But they have started to take hold

And tonight we'll sit in silence
As we pray for peace
And tonight I'll hold you close
I'll try to keep you safe from the beast
Of time

But the truth is
One day you will grow old
And when that day finally comes
What will happen to your soul?

I can't breathe
These anxieties have got me around the throat
And I wish away these fears
But they will not let me go
Oh what will happen to my soul?

Convalescence/For a Friend

Intense things are going on. And I don't know how to deal with it. I sort of want to cry but can't be bothered? I feel all knotted. This is hot off the press, kids, so when I re-read this at some later date, the following lines of rhymes will be heavily edited.


-
They said things
I didn't want to believe about you
And usually, I'm naive
But I knew those things were true

They told me
That my rose-tinted goggles were bullshit
And usually, I believe the best
But now I see this for what it is

And I can't help but feel wasted
Like every effort and prayer was spent on nothing
And I question, every word and story
How much of it was just you bluffing?

How much of you is real?
When you said you loved me, did you mean that?
Because of every word I ever said to you
I would not take a single one back

I told you once that I wasn't doing this for time
I was doing it for love
And I wonder why you felt the need to lie to me
It's over my head, over and above

I don't know if I'm angry
Perhaps that will surface some other time
As it is, I'm replaying our every moment
Wondering what was real, and I'm stuck in this rewind

I can't define my emotions
They're all twisted inside
But I know my thoughts and choices
I know somehow that things will collide

I have felt sick all week
And I still do
Thinking about too much in doubt
Trying to know how to help you

I only feel cheated because
I would have taken all your pain
'Greater love hath no man'
But knowing now, it would have been in vain

People will be angry
Some of us will cry
You're going to be gossip's hot topic
Maybe you'll actually wish you were going to die

But please don't
Because although you said nothing you could prove
I sure that somehow, you're still the funny person I knew
And I really did mean it when I told you I loved you

You don't have to do anything
Be anything
See anything
Buy anything
Be anyone
My love is not conditional.

In a strange way
I'm actually a little bit hopeful
I'm looking forward to starting over
With no lies, no walls, no bull

It's happened before
And I'm pretty good at 'forgive and forget'
And I'd rather rebuild, restore, reclaim
Than move on, look back, and regret

I will be here
I will stand for you
I'm so upset, yes
But I'm looking forward to something solid, something true

You were hurting
And you hurt us
And while we're spinning in confusion, while we're convalescing
Let's re-learn this thing called trust.

Rhymability. And Not So.

Some messages that were saved as drafts in my phone:

What hackneyed phrase is this;
That ignorance is bliss?
But, oh, what wouldn't I give,
For that state of 'love to live'?
Why be in the deep to drown,
When the shallow can just walk on out?

-

This is something I wrote throughout the year after beach mission '08.

You linger in the half-light,
And something is writ
By the sea side.
And all we have is our half-minds.

-

John Marsden,
Your book 'Everything I Know About Writing' has been very useful. I used it to swat a mosquito. I missed. But I'm quite sure I'll kill him one day.

-

Ivy, Avery, Violet, Esther, Estelle, Micha, Noah.

-

Boggiu?*

-

If it's going to destroy my life to have you remember me,
I'd rather be forgotten.

-

Sarcacke*

-

But I'll tell you, I wasn't expecting this;
I wasn't expecting bliss.

-

*These are both words that I or someone else tried to spell, but clearly didn't work. I'm not sure what the actual words are meant to be.

There, Benchong. I blogged 3 times in a day, you owe me 5. GetOnIt.

Beach Mission '09 - The Prelude

Not quite ready to blog about mission yet. It was all such a quick blur that I am still sorting things out in my head.

But here is a short poem while we wait:

Black Booger, Black Booger,
Sitting in my nose.
Black Booger, Black Booger,
Tissues are your foes.

Black Booger, Black Booger,
So satisfying to pick,
Black Booger, Black Booger,
But not quite so to lick.*

Black Booger, Black Booger,
It's bitter-sweet to say goodbye.
But Black Booger, Black Booger,
To say I miss you would be a lie.
-

*Not that I've tried... but I can't imagine it being very tasty.

Psalm Number Emily.

This is the Psalm I wrote when Ben Wilson ran TNT at Beach Mission this year. I've been meaning to post it for a while, but I kept putting it off because I wasn't sure if I wanted to... actually now I'm thinking that I don't want to again.

Okay, I will post it.
Some of it might only make sense to me/some of it is very metaphorical.


Oh Lover, it's been years.
That time so long ago,
I drowned in you.

Oh Lord, how long has it been,
Since I saw your face shining down on me?

I wonder, if you wouldn't like to take my hand;
We'd walk, we'd sing, we'd dance.

Oh God, something rests heavy on my soul.
What weighs heavy is the want, the need to feel you.

I want to dry their tears, Lord;
I wonder if you wouldn't stop me drowning in my own.
I want to see them dance, Lord,
and I wonder, if just this time,
You wouldn't like to hold my hand;
We'd walk, we'd sing, we'd dance.

-

Merry Christmas/Happy New Year

-

So this is to you,
To the things that you have seen
To the person you helped me be.
And the places you and I have been.

To the way things change with every turn of the earth
And the way you showed me just what I am worth.

To your beautiful soul;
More precious than anything you could ever imagine.
More precious than anything you could hold.
So frail and mighty and beautiful.
If only you could see.

To who you are,
Your questions and thoughts and fears and dreams
Your hope, flickering, dwindles and gleams.

And to the way i saw your face in front of mine;
Oh you were hidden in the light

The way you reached in to the darkness, surrounding me.
And the way your light reached in to my being.

Dark and light
Intertwined
To bring a day
That follows night.

To you
I drink to you

This night
With closed eyes
I'll whisper
Whisper your name to the day.

-

I wrote this for my English exam.
Oh how I love creative writing for exams.
Although it's missing most of its rhythmical metre...
It was something to do with context studies, and we had to do it on future worlds.



I don't know what my future holds for me.
Though I prefer to hope it's something fine.
I wonder, some days, just what I will be.
I wonder also what things will be mine.

The stories tell us that it's to be feared;
That hope will dissolve right before our eyes.
In all those stories, as the future neared,
Despair seemed to falling from the skies.

I pray my future holds me oh so tight,
And keeps me safe from things with evil face.
I plead with my future to get things right:
"Set a simple course, with a pleasant pace!"

Embrace the days that we have up ahead,
Would you rather repeat the past instead?

You grew like a flower
From an ambitious
Little seed
Shower, water, shower!
Shower me 'til
I am freed

You grew like a flower
A thing of beauty
Shining bright
Tower higher, tower
What a picture!
What a sight!

You flew like a flower
Which doesn't
Make much sense
Cower, and then cower
Waiting in
Black suspense

You flew like a flower
That's confusing
In itself
Power drawing power
Drinking to
Evil wealth

You died like a flower
Lost and gone
From this world
Hour after hour
We watched as
Your leaves curled

You died like a flower
Faded in
To the dirt
Flower, little flower
Can we undo
All the hurt?

Of these things I do complain:
Abundant earth and lack of rain.
Arrows, for answers, I shoot in vain.
Falling short miss their target, again, again.
I don't understand--these things leave stain:
The lack of valour, abundant pain.

Overexposed.

I've been
Overexposed
To the poison you breed,
This Beast,
You bleed in to me.
My tear stained face can't hold your lies.
Turn over,
See:
Not this filthy compromise,
No,
It's naked truth
That you despise.

-

Po-wet-tree.

Here is a collection of short poems that make little, or no sense. I wrote most of them last night when I was half asleep and delusional.

I am.
I am half of what I need to be
None of what I want to be
Everything of what you see
Nothing of what is not me

---

Ingrained in my memory
What started as a tiny seed
Has now become a mustard tree
...metaphorically.

---

Last night I thought I was going to die
I woke up this morning and I was fine
I dreamed about the old dirt road
That distant place of you and I...

---

You are.
You are this
You are that
I told you
To eat my hat

You are good
You are bad
Will you remember
The fun we had?

You are funny
You are boring
I lay awake all night
Listening to you snoring

You are red
You are green
The blacks, the whites
And in between

You are a cake
You are a carrot
You are the cracker
I fed my parrot

You are mine
You are theirs
But I know you think
That no one cares

You are the rain
You are the sun
The planets, the moons
And stars overrun

You are cold
You are warm
Just never normal
So I am torn

You are you
You are them
Stop this nonsense
I'm going to bed

You are the break
You fixed my heart
You stop and start it
You pull it apart

You are the reason I am
You are the reason I will be
The reason I was
And all that I see

You are passionate
You are passion fruit
I don't think you know
That I adore you

You are given
You are taken
Through it all
You remain unshaken

You are my sister
You are my brother
You're not related
To my father or my mother

You are the city
You are the hills
You are the place
Where a little bit kills

You are deceitful
You're full of lies
Now I know
Why you don't lock eyes

You are beautiful
You are ugly
You're never enough
The circle of society

You are in tune
You are way out
Remember, to play
'Keep those lips in a pout!'

You are dishonest
You so true
There's no gray area
In black and blue

You are the reason I frown
You are the reason I cry
The plea of the fledgling
I'm going to fly

---

Easy as 1,2,3...

No One can see that there's no Two
But Two can see there'll be no Three
Unfourtunately for little Three
Three's existence depends on Two
Of which One thinks Two will do
Of which Two knows is not true
The living Three would be joined by Four
Joined by Four against Two's law
After Three Two wouldn't want Four
Four would fuel the age-long war.




I wrote this confusing little thing a while ago.
It doesn't really mean anything, but I'm interested as to what other people interpret it as.

Title

So. I need to post something that isn't me ranting. Here is a poem I wrote last year! It should win all kinds of prizes.


Pick me up in your arms,
Tell me you love me.
Tell me we're safe,
We're safe from the mung beans.




/END

Dear Chibi...

What's that dear Chibi?

You think I'm a nerd?
Excuse me, but when was the last time I erred?
Ok 'twas I blew up the children's playground,
But I built a new one,
One that is much more fun.

Yes, and the time I infected the city with a cold;
It didn't last long,
And a blocked up nose was all that was wrong.
Don't judge me dear Chibi,
For you are but a monkey, and none perfect yourself,
What about the time you broke my good shelf?

An inventor am I,
The best there is.
All my machines whir and whiz.
I admit that I'm lonely, for I've no wife or kids,
My only friend a monkey,
Chibi, he's dimmer that squids.

I have big glasses.
Often askew, broken three times,
With lots of little cracks and lines.
My hair sticks up,
My fingernails are yellow,
But you, Dear Chibi, are worse: You're shallow.

Wiegh up my successes and failures:
I cured cancer,
Stopped pollution,
Started a healthy revolution.
Yet no one seems to know my face,
As if it were I who came last in a race.

Tell me, Dear Chibi,
How many nobel prizes have you won?
I have one six,
With another one to come.
They sit on a shelf in my head,
Along with your voice, though the nurse says you're dead.

As I look at these padded walls,
I'm fed by the nurse,
This darn white jacket,
My golly! It's a curse!
Dear Chibi, Dear Chibi,
My imaginary monkey...

Poem from year 9 poetry folio.

The Raven

What can I say? I'm a fan.


The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,"

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely,' said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as 'Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow will he leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!' said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

-Edgar Allen Poe, 1845