Tuesday, March 24, 2009
मस. निकाले नाबोर्स
इ एन्जोयेद मस। नाबोर्स विसित बेकाउसे शे वास वैरी फुन्न्य एंड गुड-हुमोरेड, एंड शे वास अल्सो अ हीरो। आईटी वास गुड तप सी हेर रेकोवेरेड सो वेल, एंड इ फेल्ट गुड अबाउट हेर फुतुरे.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
And all around.
A night
And the stars are bright
They're light
And the fog is right
I sit
Beneath a yellow tree
With it
Laughing at me
A smile
That surrounds my eyes
A child
In me that cries
Death
Do we part.
Human
Is the start.
And the stars are bright
They're light
And the fog is right
I sit
Beneath a yellow tree
With it
Laughing at me
A smile
That surrounds my eyes
A child
In me that cries
Death
Do we part.
Human
Is the start.
Stars.
There are names for those lips
And shapes for that kiss
Constructions of that bliss
A form for that fist.
The light of day
Shines on the white picket fence
And we, the fish
We swim in it
And revel in what's been made of us
Jupiter never seemed so nice
The stars are synths
The rhythm is the beat
Mars never looked so hungry
The sun never so angry.
Parasites have been exterminated
And she has been lifted up
Her voice is the only light
The only tether for the self-righteous god
She's the reach of the arm
The feather to the corset.
Features are cut into stone
That stone resemble the features
The stone erodes
Features fall away
If the features deteriorate, does anyone hear?
And for what, as he looked up at the white sky,
Is this tear falling for?
When there are clouds of tears gathering around a single planet
What properties of specialty do mine hold?
In being human, I am a miracle.
In being human, I am in no way a miracle.
Vibrations of callous fingers
Against grains of horse hair
Make the soul lift.
Reassures.
And the green sky winks
While you float downwards.
Gray forest, I call on you
Sell to me inventions
And tell me why I should care.
Life dominates nature
Natural is everything that happens
Says man.
The road stretches from here to there
Over there is a land of red
Of green
Of silver
Of purple
A land with a galaxy
And two tables
With faces of love
And examples of beauty
And a grim reaper.
I love her.
So it shines, so it shines
And the tear trickles down his face
And he reflects on everything he's ever hated
His legs sprout trees
His mind sprouts humanity
And he decreases
He decreases from self-righteousness
And deals with the real pain of having a mind of humanity and a base of everything else.
He's torn apart.
His body is split in half.
His arms are strewn across the floor in chopped up pieces.
His upper half is eaten by raccoons.
His lower half floats in space.
Tension splits you apart.
Your existence should not be split into polar opposites.
Philosophy should not be forced upon you,
Because philosophy is a burden.
And accepting everything that goes against what you believe should not be encouraged.
When you have to pick between two truths, you're not going to live.
So to the stars I say, feed me.
And shapes for that kiss
Constructions of that bliss
A form for that fist.
The light of day
Shines on the white picket fence
And we, the fish
We swim in it
And revel in what's been made of us
Jupiter never seemed so nice
The stars are synths
The rhythm is the beat
Mars never looked so hungry
The sun never so angry.
Parasites have been exterminated
And she has been lifted up
Her voice is the only light
The only tether for the self-righteous god
She's the reach of the arm
The feather to the corset.
Features are cut into stone
That stone resemble the features
The stone erodes
Features fall away
If the features deteriorate, does anyone hear?
And for what, as he looked up at the white sky,
Is this tear falling for?
When there are clouds of tears gathering around a single planet
What properties of specialty do mine hold?
In being human, I am a miracle.
In being human, I am in no way a miracle.
Vibrations of callous fingers
Against grains of horse hair
Make the soul lift.
Reassures.
And the green sky winks
While you float downwards.
Gray forest, I call on you
Sell to me inventions
And tell me why I should care.
Life dominates nature
Natural is everything that happens
Says man.
The road stretches from here to there
Over there is a land of red
Of green
Of silver
Of purple
A land with a galaxy
And two tables
With faces of love
And examples of beauty
And a grim reaper.
I love her.
So it shines, so it shines
And the tear trickles down his face
And he reflects on everything he's ever hated
His legs sprout trees
His mind sprouts humanity
And he decreases
He decreases from self-righteousness
And deals with the real pain of having a mind of humanity and a base of everything else.
He's torn apart.
His body is split in half.
His arms are strewn across the floor in chopped up pieces.
His upper half is eaten by raccoons.
His lower half floats in space.
Tension splits you apart.
Your existence should not be split into polar opposites.
Philosophy should not be forced upon you,
Because philosophy is a burden.
And accepting everything that goes against what you believe should not be encouraged.
When you have to pick between two truths, you're not going to live.
So to the stars I say, feed me.
Stars.
There are names for those lips
And shapes for that kiss
Constructions of that bliss
A form for that fist.
The light of day
Shines on the white picket fence
And we, the fish
We swim in it
And revel in what's been made of us
Jupiter never seemed so nice
The stars are synths
The rhythm is the beat
Mars never looked so hungry
The sun never so angry.
Parasites have been exterminated
And she has been lifted up
Her voice is the only light
The only tether for the self-righteous god
She's the reach of the arm
The feather to the corset.
Features are cut into stone
That stone resemble the features
The stone erodes
Features fall away
If the features deteriorate, does anyone hear?
And for what, as he looked up at the white sky,
Is this tear falling for?
When there are clouds of tears gathering around a single planet
What properties of specialty do mine hold?
In being human, I am a miracle.
In being human, I am in no way a miracle.
Vibrations of callous fingers
Against grains of horse hair
Make the soul lift.
Reassures.
And the green sky winks
While you float downwards.
Gray forest, I call on you
Sell to me inventions
And tell me why I should care.
Life dominates nature
Natural is everything that happens
Says man.
The road stretches from here to there
Over there is a land of red
Of green
Of silver
Of purple
A land with a galaxy
And two tables
With faces of love
And examples of beauty
And a grim reaper.
I love her.
So it shines, so it shines
And the tear trickles down his face
And he reflects on everything he's ever hated
His legs sprout trees
His mind sprouts humanity
And he decreases
He decreases from self-righteousness
And deals with the real pain of having a mind of humanity and a base of everything else.
He's torn apart.
His body is split in half.
His arms are strewn across the floor in chopped up pieces.
His upper half is eaten by raccoons.
His lower half floats in space.
Tension splits you apart.
Your existence should not be split into polar opposites.
Philosophy should not be forced upon you,
Because philosophy is a burden.
And accepting everything that goes against what you believe should not be encouraged.
When you have to pick between two truths, you're not going to live.
So to the stars I say, feed me.
And shapes for that kiss
Constructions of that bliss
A form for that fist.
The light of day
Shines on the white picket fence
And we, the fish
We swim in it
And revel in what's been made of us
Jupiter never seemed so nice
The stars are synths
The rhythm is the beat
Mars never looked so hungry
The sun never so angry.
Parasites have been exterminated
And she has been lifted up
Her voice is the only light
The only tether for the self-righteous god
She's the reach of the arm
The feather to the corset.
Features are cut into stone
That stone resemble the features
The stone erodes
Features fall away
If the features deteriorate, does anyone hear?
And for what, as he looked up at the white sky,
Is this tear falling for?
When there are clouds of tears gathering around a single planet
What properties of specialty do mine hold?
In being human, I am a miracle.
In being human, I am in no way a miracle.
Vibrations of callous fingers
Against grains of horse hair
Make the soul lift.
Reassures.
And the green sky winks
While you float downwards.
Gray forest, I call on you
Sell to me inventions
And tell me why I should care.
Life dominates nature
Natural is everything that happens
Says man.
The road stretches from here to there
Over there is a land of red
Of green
Of silver
Of purple
A land with a galaxy
And two tables
With faces of love
And examples of beauty
And a grim reaper.
I love her.
So it shines, so it shines
And the tear trickles down his face
And he reflects on everything he's ever hated
His legs sprout trees
His mind sprouts humanity
And he decreases
He decreases from self-righteousness
And deals with the real pain of having a mind of humanity and a base of everything else.
He's torn apart.
His body is split in half.
His arms are strewn across the floor in chopped up pieces.
His upper half is eaten by raccoons.
His lower half floats in space.
Tension splits you apart.
Your existence should not be split into polar opposites.
Philosophy should not be forced upon you,
Because philosophy is a burden.
And accepting everything that goes against what you believe should not be encouraged.
When you have to pick between two truths, you're not going to live.
So to the stars I say, feed me.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Brain splatter.
And the black man knows it's untrue.
He feels as his ancestors struggled.
And the black man's struggle is to forget his self.
Black man's mind is still belittled.
His face still abandoned.
His psyche still wrought with the inferiorities of color.
Still not good enough, says the engine of his will.
Still won't try harder says the conductor.
There's no instruction manual on how to break free.
To thoughts of suicide he runs.
He feels as his ancestors struggled.
And the black man's struggle is to forget his self.
Black man's mind is still belittled.
His face still abandoned.
His psyche still wrought with the inferiorities of color.
Still not good enough, says the engine of his will.
Still won't try harder says the conductor.
There's no instruction manual on how to break free.
To thoughts of suicide he runs.
Emotion for a black man.
I don't love myself.Part of me is engulfed with silenced sin.
And when I want to shed my heart, all I do is hide in my skin.
The pen won't release its ink, reflecting what I feel within.
Rusty thoughts feast on my life, a trial made of tin.
So I don't want to speak right now, I would only like to write.
Humanity feels bleak to me because it's never been right.
And to delve deeply within the depths of my undying plight,
I'm never correct in anything, I lack divine sight
And as we fly forever past my angst and through my mind,
We'll find on this endeavor that the truth isn't kind.
I wish I wasn't myself, in a time booth filled with time.
I don't want to lend my mind and soul to the upkeep of mankind.
I beg of you, teach me how to do it like you, please.
I've reached the color where I can't handle these responsibilities.
I'm not the sort of dog that is bred to succeed.
In the double helix fog, you'll see that that's a seed.
In the map of my mind, there's a hole in the middle.
Even with the gap of time, I still feel belittled.
There's no love for him to give, said the riddle.
Couldn't I be played out like a zombie? piped the fiddle.To take care of a dime as pretty as this.
I'm going to have to forgive, love, and forget...
And when I want to shed my heart, all I do is hide in my skin.
The pen won't release its ink, reflecting what I feel within.
Rusty thoughts feast on my life, a trial made of tin.
So I don't want to speak right now, I would only like to write.
Humanity feels bleak to me because it's never been right.
And to delve deeply within the depths of my undying plight,
I'm never correct in anything, I lack divine sight
And as we fly forever past my angst and through my mind,
We'll find on this endeavor that the truth isn't kind.
I wish I wasn't myself, in a time booth filled with time.
I don't want to lend my mind and soul to the upkeep of mankind.
I beg of you, teach me how to do it like you, please.
I've reached the color where I can't handle these responsibilities.
I'm not the sort of dog that is bred to succeed.
In the double helix fog, you'll see that that's a seed.
In the map of my mind, there's a hole in the middle.
Even with the gap of time, I still feel belittled.
There's no love for him to give, said the riddle.
Couldn't I be played out like a zombie? piped the fiddle.To take care of a dime as pretty as this.
I'm going to have to forgive, love, and forget...
Through death and sex.
I think I'm more than a man. I'm more than a woman? I think I'm more than a life, for every breath develops my psyche, to the point of a self-proclaimed god, an entity that God has ordained to be in its highest place. Then fire will set upon the streets, as if fire from the water wasn't enough to destroy the wills of seven thousand winged horses, with manes of lion and tails of the scorpion. Lightning flashed as she ran into her house, to find that the lightning had struck her. Dark souls crawled and wept from the White House, every life died for dye, and had death consume them, for purposes of tranquil quiet, evil men and women found the kind of people, who damned the men of the fire line… German doing, the soldiers and the trees burnt by stupid will and charismatic will for change coming from a monkey's mouth. Many men will find, a death to soon refine, a longing to be kind, and a selling of the mind. Trends are no long for the reason of the norm and sometimes I wish I could still die, from the wish of head trauma. Grapes of wrath, my grapes of wrath that killed the fruits of the spirit, the life of the kite and the clouds on Olympus. Pantheistic fire breathing moccasins adorn my feet on this journey through death and sex.
HA.
Mark me down
Fight me now
Kiss me later after you mark me down
Tried so hard
To listen to me fly
From angel wings
And flying things
And death to men
I began again
Climbing down
Sounding now
Holistic plow
And don't fail me now
Find your life
In my eyes
Its not an easy thing
To disguise…
Fight me now
Kiss me later after you mark me down
Tried so hard
To listen to me fly
From angel wings
And flying things
And death to men
I began again
Climbing down
Sounding now
Holistic plow
And don't fail me now
Find your life
In my eyes
Its not an easy thing
To disguise…
I don't really want it.
Curves and curves, slight turns and indents, smooth to the eye. Nothing more than the eye, the lust is no longer evident in the soul of my mouth. The fingers of my desire are no longer able to see through the haze of unknowing treachery my mind perceives from my eyes. Tremor for a talk list, killing myself over the need to want however never wanting to actually want it because of the moral standing that my soul embodies. Caramel tight lips graze against my imagination, and inflated chests caress my mind's eye. But in the physical, of the flesh, I don't want the more surreal and real parts of the human anatomy. I want the God.
Sappt.
There was a sandslide
It happened in my mind
It left life with no given shape or time
Abstract in its art with a crooked con artist sign,
it took with it all and left my will blind.
However the sandslide implanted new dreams
Its smooth sandy hand bashing open new scenes
It giggled as it left,
and gave me no means
to act on grand hopes and too-big-for-me dreams.
So now I sit with a sand-ridden will
Burnt to a crisp under the desert night sky
The soil's black and white and the water stays still
It's not use planting, it's suicide to try.
It happened in my mind
It left life with no given shape or time
Abstract in its art with a crooked con artist sign,
it took with it all and left my will blind.
However the sandslide implanted new dreams
Its smooth sandy hand bashing open new scenes
It giggled as it left,
and gave me no means
to act on grand hopes and too-big-for-me dreams.
So now I sit with a sand-ridden will
Burnt to a crisp under the desert night sky
The soil's black and white and the water stays still
It's not use planting, it's suicide to try.
Dragon tales.
It's these days that I'm a dragon,
Hoarding my treasure with scales
And it's these days that they try to slay me,
And their chocolate moonshine prevails;
Entangled in the rooftop with the ketchup in their hair.
And it's these days that I'm fire, defensive of a tree
And slowly do I watch you with a dream-team lethargy.
From atop the golden chalice, to catch me if I cry, and stops me in my tracks, saving me with a sigh.
It's these days that I'm a dragon, with multi-colored skin.
And I watch these jelly beans sprout their jelly fins,
My penultimate end.
Hoarding my treasure with scales
And it's these days that they try to slay me,
And their chocolate moonshine prevails;
Entangled in the rooftop with the ketchup in their hair.
And it's these days that I'm fire, defensive of a tree
And slowly do I watch you with a dream-team lethargy.
From atop the golden chalice, to catch me if I cry, and stops me in my tracks, saving me with a sigh.
It's these days that I'm a dragon, with multi-colored skin.
And I watch these jelly beans sprout their jelly fins,
My penultimate end.
The gallery.
I don't even understand my feelings. So I can't begin to write about them. I want to write in metaphors, as to shade my feelings with some sort of cloak, so that I can thoroughly assasinate my thoughts without alerting the gaurd. But my mind just won't work like that; maybe because its so cloudy from the precipitation you've caused. It's rained upwards for days now, and how skin reacts to water is how humans react to hurt. And it's just, I want you to know that I'm a desert right now. I'm over-heated with nothing to cool me down. But you know, I was once a valley. I was once a lush oasis with grass and rivers and streams and inhabitants, until those indecisive plate tectonics came along. And I find it interesting; the inhabitants sucked me half dry, and they just did away with me. It was just reap and reap and reap, no off season, and eventually, even though I had put up with all their abuse and gave them so much service , they left me. They used up my resources and left me. When they talk amongst themselves, I hear them say that it was because they thought I was creating volcanoes, which would eventually kill them. And I'm glad that I'm gettig this off of my back, because it's been like a ghost. But it's been a ghost in a different sense... more like a ghost that lingers everyhwere. A ghost that is the smell of the air, a ghost that seems to haunt key-words and phrases, place names and jokes. But then it could also be liken to an elephant. Naturally, you'd be confused as to why an elephant was there on your back in the first place, but it would also be incredibly painful to carry a pacaderm around all of the time. You'd hurt, you'd be in pain. You may not have noticed it, but I also feel like an insane thought. I always wondered if I'm thought of by other people, but I couldn't be. I couldn't be. And I mean, I want you to understand that I know I should've abandoned ship. 'Cuz like, everyone else has. But it's just too difficult to abandon a ship that you've wanted to sail on for such a long time... Especially if you were having the time of your life. And yes, you may remark that sitting on a sunken ship is hazardous to your health. But I'm still hoping for some aircraft carrier, underwater crane, the Coast Gaurd to come and haul it back up and return it to its former glory. It's childish and ridiculous, because God knows this ship is too far buried under the iron sea to ever be revived. And last thing that I'll say to you before I leave: I know you live in a different country, so it's really hard to talk to you. I wish I could talk to you, because I know that we, by ourselves, could make world peace; make things right again. But I can't afford long distances, and wouldn't have the words to say anyway.
100 things.
1. They'll thrill you or sedate you.2. The most relaxing thing in the world is to sit back and to think about God being a glowing cube with simple, complex mechanisms in some different dimension.3. Girls are energy vampires, and it's amazing how much entertainment they demand from you.4. Brennan' actually a really good friend.5. The reason why people think teenagers are pathetic children who are cute to be heard, but no to be listened to is because we think that way about ourselves.6. It's generally not a good idea to go into high school hoping to be excluded from everything.7. Conversations are a chore, an art, and probably the hardest chore that you will ever undertake.8. Girls will not be impressed with you unless you're funny.9. It's amazing how little attention even your best friends can give you.10. Usually, parties suck unless you're the most attractive person there.11. Capitalists really are the scum of the earth, and Cash really does Rule Everything Around Me. 12. Ideology is hate.13. Energy is a life-force, and more than just stamina.14. Ignorance is a plague.15. To express yourself you need to know what you're talking about.16. Honduras is optimal for saving a community.17. Do NOT drink a 40 proof.18. Apathy and fear are the two biggest turn-offs in a human.19. Society is a system that can not be overridden. 20. Talk is WAAYY different than action.21. The ghettos are beautiful. 22. Sondre Lerche is probably the biggest most beautiful kept secret ever.23. It generally isn't good to insult people too much. 24. The mayor likes to talk when he's nervous.25. It's much less effective to work on a Mayor's Youth Advisory Council when you sit in a circle and do Warm-Up questions and interactives.26. Most things aren't necessary.27. A minimalistic view on life isn't necessarily a bad one.28. Family truly is all it's cooked up to be.29. Balance out your political connection. 'Cuz politics will kill you.30. Girls are most likely clueless, and more violent and scary than the Mafia.31. Riding your bike 8 miles isn't worth it in the long run.32. It always rains at the perfect times.33. The fabric of reality has rips somewhere...34. There are set rules and strategies, regulations and ways, tactics and cliches that are involved in picking up girls, talking to girls and conversations in general.35. Never have really cool best friends, because then you'll always compare yourself to them.36. Whoring really shouldn't be acceptable.37. It's good to respect women.38. Never judge a book by its cover. I know, cliche, but I've truly realized that this year. 39. There are soo many opportunities for youth to do things. They just don't think they can or don't want to.40. School is a very complex society that is very dysfunctional, due to all the small pubescent children running around.41. It's a good thing and a bad thing not to get involved with too many girls.42. Short people think they're better than you, though they won't admit that they think they do.43. People don't believe in God because they can't conceive any other God than man. 44. People always question God because they try to match a nature to a genuinely unknown force. They try to match a god to the human condition, and to what we go through. Usually, people don't notice that it's not God that they're against, but religion.45. Islam is beautiful.46. Khari's going to fail at women after the age of twenty.47. Anne Hathaway is fugging sexy, and Zooey Deschanel is the kind of chick you'd marry.48. It's unbearable to listen to a song that used to bring up feelings in you, and then find out it does nothing for you anymore.49. Poor people do exist. 50. Humans are their money, unfortunately.51. Don't like people for their breasts, guys. It just effs things up.52. Everyone is a person, and should be treated as such.53. Everyone humors me. 54. Racism is in no way gone, but is still visible EVERYWHERE. Black people are still very much enslaved, in a modern way.55. Slavery has left me with a very confused personality. I hate white people, and I would like to be a white person.56. Regina Spektor is awesome.57. Girls are generally too beautiful for Khari.58. CSS is extremely difficult.59. What if we were just... cascading style sheets?60. The dark is actually the best place to see the light.61. Meditation does wonders.62. Having a two-way monologue is very painful.63. Spirituality is natural. So it shouldn't be called "spirituality." It should just be called nature.64. Communism is the savior.65. The Illuminati is not to be hated, but to be impersonated and debunked.66. Bolan is the worst person to take the world over. Because he will not help you.67. Thinking is the only way to sanely get through life.68. Geometry is simply teaching you how to think abstractly.69. Your best friends are going to be shorter than you.70. Writing isn't hard if you just write.71. Plot is better in nonsensical metaphors.72. Your history is always going to follow you, no matter how seemingly innocent it is.73. Memories are stapled to you forever.74. Winter is actually more filled with memories than fall.75. It still holds true that "nothing is that same, now that it is November."76. I haven't learned anything else.
Nasty love poem.
It's not that I love you, it's just your eyes are the only keys to my soul. It's not that I love you, it's just your skin is my covering from this world.It's not that I love you, it's just I'd give my life for you.It's not that I love you, it's just that you're gaze makes time freeze, inconveniently freezing my mind, inconveniently speeding up my heart.It's not that I love you, it's just that your voice triggers all of the endorphins in my brain, releasing pleasure into every inch of my body.It's not that I love you, it's just that I miss you.It's not that I love you, it's just that your laugh is a reflection of the sun, shimmering faintly, free to grow with intensity and wean depending on the cloud patterns, and filling anyone who hears with a luminescent light.It's not that I love you, it's just that your allure is that of south pole and north, it's just that I can't escape it.It's not that I love you, but you're figure is so ingrained into my mind that if I was to cut out the black underneath my eyelids, you would have before you a portrait of yourself.It's not that I love you, it's just our memories are as real life and right now as losing a leg, and are more desirable than my own reality.And I mean, it's not that I love you.Is it?
Howso, Quills?
There's a sprinkle of everything else in her eye,
Likened to an ice cream cone with everything on it.
She's a blank slate,
On which you just figured out that all of the drawings you've ever loved were scrawled on.
You realize that she's an overall summary.
You can't judge this one my friend, because this dog is a super-breed.
The voice of a terrier, the legs of a greyhound.
But do you know this?
For a true fact?
No, because you're a few miles away.
And a phone is merely a contraption to exchange souls,
A business wherein the operator can add reverb, phase out, or inflict tremolo on a voice.
But it's unmistakable that she is everything ever.
Though she hasn't been seen, encountered, she's everything I've encountered.
And I let that sink in.
And then I cry because she's them, A nicely mixed smoothie that I've never tasted
But judging on the aroma, my favorites are inherent.
Is it ethically okay to love her because she's not her?
But then is she her?
More of a manifestation of all the dreams you've had.
So, answering my own question, answering your own question, you don't love the country.
You love what makes up the country.
Do you not?Is she not my future?
I know I'm her future.
But the future has the ability to be chopped...
As Donnie Darko teaches, it's only your fault that it's been chopped.
But it's not.
So what do I do?
God is Change.
What do you do?
Do you love the culminating event or the planners?
Do you continue to romance the light bulb or do you simply recognize that it's the filament...?
I mean, I like her, of course I do.
But she's not her...
And there's miles...
And there's parents...
And there's friends...
And there's girls...
And there's me.
There's me.
The reflection of all other things.
Is me.
So what do I say to you now?
Do I ask you the question that I promised to ask?
Or would I be cheating you, madame Face-I've-Never-Seen?
I don't want to cheat you.
You're beautiful.
And elegant.
Unique.
And quirky.
I'd love to take your voice into my soul and hold it hostage.
Bend it to my will.
But who knows if that's really what I want?
I don't know.
What should I do?
Likened to an ice cream cone with everything on it.
She's a blank slate,
On which you just figured out that all of the drawings you've ever loved were scrawled on.
You realize that she's an overall summary.
You can't judge this one my friend, because this dog is a super-breed.
The voice of a terrier, the legs of a greyhound.
But do you know this?
For a true fact?
No, because you're a few miles away.
And a phone is merely a contraption to exchange souls,
A business wherein the operator can add reverb, phase out, or inflict tremolo on a voice.
But it's unmistakable that she is everything ever.
Though she hasn't been seen, encountered, she's everything I've encountered.
And I let that sink in.
And then I cry because she's them, A nicely mixed smoothie that I've never tasted
But judging on the aroma, my favorites are inherent.
Is it ethically okay to love her because she's not her?
But then is she her?
More of a manifestation of all the dreams you've had.
So, answering my own question, answering your own question, you don't love the country.
You love what makes up the country.
Do you not?Is she not my future?
I know I'm her future.
But the future has the ability to be chopped...
As Donnie Darko teaches, it's only your fault that it's been chopped.
But it's not.
So what do I do?
God is Change.
What do you do?
Do you love the culminating event or the planners?
Do you continue to romance the light bulb or do you simply recognize that it's the filament...?
I mean, I like her, of course I do.
But she's not her...
And there's miles...
And there's parents...
And there's friends...
And there's girls...
And there's me.
There's me.
The reflection of all other things.
Is me.
So what do I say to you now?
Do I ask you the question that I promised to ask?
Or would I be cheating you, madame Face-I've-Never-Seen?
I don't want to cheat you.
You're beautiful.
And elegant.
Unique.
And quirky.
I'd love to take your voice into my soul and hold it hostage.
Bend it to my will.
But who knows if that's really what I want?
I don't know.
What should I do?
The earth is mine.
The earth is mineI findThat if I thinkThat I canMake plansTo change itI canI canBecause I'm the soul proprietor Of this land.And soIt goesThat I change myselfI change my mindAnd every-thing elseIt has to be differentI can do itIf I justUse the sunTo load my gunVan Jones will sayThat's not the way.The earth is mineShe's in pain, fineBut seeThe really problemLies in meWhat have I changed In my lifeSo strangeOf you to askNothingNothingNothingDo I like war?Yes.Do I like guns?Yes.Do I like apartheid?Yes Yes Yes.Do you see an inconsistency with what I'm saying?Saving the earthMeans savingMankindAs it's menWe must not be blindTo the onesWho affect it mostBut we should follow Our friends and foes.The earth is mineI findThat if I think I canPlan To change ItI canIt just takesA minor Adjustment in me The ones that we all don't like to seeBut I pledge on this dayTo change my waysBecause the earth.Needs me.Take off your battle armorAnd sit down.Let's be free.Let's fix her.Let's fix me.We'll fix me.We'll fix me.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Dr. Seuss
He was born Theodor Seuss Geisel in Springfield, Massachusetts on March 2, 1904. He died September 24, 1991. His childhood was stricken by prohibition, and filled with activist activities. He wrote Jack O' Latern, which was the first time he used the pen name, Dr. Seuss. He was sent to Oxford to do a fellowship program because he lied and said that he was going to be sent to Oxford. Helen told him he should become an artist, and he did, as well as her husband. He turned to children's books when he returned from war.
Publications:
As Dr. Seuss:
And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street (1937)
The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1938)
The King's Stilts (1939)
The Seven Lady Godivas (1940)
Horton Hatches the Egg (1940)
McElligot's Pool (Caldecott Honor Book, 1947)
Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose (1948)
Bartholomew and the Oobleck (Caldecott Honor Book, 1949)
If I Ran the Zoo (Caldecott Honor Book, 1950)
Scrambled Eggs Super! (1953)
Horton Hears a Who! (1954)
On Beyond Zebra! (1955)
If I Ran the Circus (1956)
How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1957)
The Cat in the Hat (1957)
The Cat in the Hat Comes Back (1958)
Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories (1958)
Happy Birthday to You! (1959)
Green Eggs and Ham (1960)
One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish (1960)
The Sneetches and Other Stories (1961)
Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book (1962)
Dr. Seuss's ABC (1963)
Hop on Pop (1963)
Fox in Socks (1965)
I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew (1965)
The Cat in the Hat Song Book (1967)
The Foot Book (1968)
I Can Lick 30 Tigers Today! and Other Stories (1969)
My Book about ME (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1970)
I Can Draw It Myself (1970)
Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?: Dr. Seuss's Book of Wonderful Noises! (1970)
The Lorax (1971)
Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now! (1972)
Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? (1973)
The Shape of Me and Other Stuff (1973)
There's a Wocket in My Pocket! (1974)
Great Day for Up! (Illustrated by Quentin Blake, 1974)
Oh, the Thinks You Can Think! (1975)
The Cat's Quizzer (1976)
I Can Read with My Eyes Shut! (1978)
Oh Say Can You Say? (1979)
Hunches in Bunches (1982)
The Butter Battle Book (1984)
You're Only Old Once! : A Book for Obsolete Children (1986)
I Am NOT Going to Get Up Today! (Illustrated by James Stevenson, 1987)
Oh, the Places You'll Go! (1990)
Daisy-Head Mayzie (Posthumous, 1995)
My Many Colored Days (Posthumous, illustrated by Steve Johnson with Lou Fancher, 1996)
Hooray for Diffendoofer Day! (Posthumous, from notes, with Jack Prelutsky and Lane Smith, 1998)
Gerald McBoing-Boing (Posthumous, based on story and film, 2000)
As Theo. LeSieg
Ten Apples Up on Top! (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1961)
I Wish That I Had Duck Feet (Illustrated by B Tobey, 1965)
Come over to My House (Illustrated by Richard Erdoes, 1966)
The Eye Book (Illustrated by Joe Mathieu/Roy McKie, 1968)
I Can Write (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1971)
In a People House (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1972)
Wacky Wednesday (Illustrated by George Booth, 1974)
The Many Mice of Mr. Brice (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1974)
Would You Rather Be a Bullfrog? (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1975)
Hooper Humperdink...? Not Him! (Illustrated by Charles E. Martin, 1976)
Please Try to Remember the First of Octember! (Illustrated by Art Cummings, 1977)
Maybe You Should Fly a Jet! Maybe You Should Be a Vet! (Illustrated by Michael J. Smollin, 1981)
The Tooth Book (Illustrated by Joe Mathieu/Roy McKie, 1989)
Publications:
As Dr. Seuss:
And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street (1937)
The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1938)
The King's Stilts (1939)
The Seven Lady Godivas (1940)
Horton Hatches the Egg (1940)
McElligot's Pool (Caldecott Honor Book, 1947)
Thidwick the Big-Hearted Moose (1948)
Bartholomew and the Oobleck (Caldecott Honor Book, 1949)
If I Ran the Zoo (Caldecott Honor Book, 1950)
Scrambled Eggs Super! (1953)
Horton Hears a Who! (1954)
On Beyond Zebra! (1955)
If I Ran the Circus (1956)
How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1957)
The Cat in the Hat (1957)
The Cat in the Hat Comes Back (1958)
Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories (1958)
Happy Birthday to You! (1959)
Green Eggs and Ham (1960)
One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish (1960)
The Sneetches and Other Stories (1961)
Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book (1962)
Dr. Seuss's ABC (1963)
Hop on Pop (1963)
Fox in Socks (1965)
I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew (1965)
The Cat in the Hat Song Book (1967)
The Foot Book (1968)
I Can Lick 30 Tigers Today! and Other Stories (1969)
My Book about ME (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1970)
I Can Draw It Myself (1970)
Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You?: Dr. Seuss's Book of Wonderful Noises! (1970)
The Lorax (1971)
Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now! (1972)
Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? (1973)
The Shape of Me and Other Stuff (1973)
There's a Wocket in My Pocket! (1974)
Great Day for Up! (Illustrated by Quentin Blake, 1974)
Oh, the Thinks You Can Think! (1975)
The Cat's Quizzer (1976)
I Can Read with My Eyes Shut! (1978)
Oh Say Can You Say? (1979)
Hunches in Bunches (1982)
The Butter Battle Book (1984)
You're Only Old Once! : A Book for Obsolete Children (1986)
I Am NOT Going to Get Up Today! (Illustrated by James Stevenson, 1987)
Oh, the Places You'll Go! (1990)
Daisy-Head Mayzie (Posthumous, 1995)
My Many Colored Days (Posthumous, illustrated by Steve Johnson with Lou Fancher, 1996)
Hooray for Diffendoofer Day! (Posthumous, from notes, with Jack Prelutsky and Lane Smith, 1998)
Gerald McBoing-Boing (Posthumous, based on story and film, 2000)
As Theo. LeSieg
Ten Apples Up on Top! (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1961)
I Wish That I Had Duck Feet (Illustrated by B Tobey, 1965)
Come over to My House (Illustrated by Richard Erdoes, 1966)
The Eye Book (Illustrated by Joe Mathieu/Roy McKie, 1968)
I Can Write (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1971)
In a People House (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1972)
Wacky Wednesday (Illustrated by George Booth, 1974)
The Many Mice of Mr. Brice (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1974)
Would You Rather Be a Bullfrog? (Illustrated by Roy McKie, 1975)
Hooper Humperdink...? Not Him! (Illustrated by Charles E. Martin, 1976)
Please Try to Remember the First of Octember! (Illustrated by Art Cummings, 1977)
Maybe You Should Fly a Jet! Maybe You Should Be a Vet! (Illustrated by Michael J. Smollin, 1981)
The Tooth Book (Illustrated by Joe Mathieu/Roy McKie, 1989)
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