MAY 31, 2008

I have FINALLY found two of my favorite poems that I have been diligently searching for over the Internet.   

"All"
by Bei Dao

All is fated,
All cloudy,

All an endless beginning,
All a search for what vanishes,

All joys grave,
All griefs tearless,

Every speech a repetition,
Every meeting a first encounter,

All love buried in the heart,
All history prisoned in a dream,

All hope hedged with doubt,
All faith drowned in lamentation.

Every explosion heralds an instant of stillness,
Every death reverberates forever.

And...

"Also All"
by Shu Ting

In answer to Bei Dao’s “All.”

Not all trees are felled by storms.
Not every seed finds barren soil.
Not all the wings of dream are broken,
Nor is all affection doomed
To wither in a desolate heart.

No, not all is as you say.

Not all flames consume themselves,
shedding no light on other lives.
Not all stars announce the night
And never dawn. Not every song
Will drift every ear and heart.

No, not all is as you say.

Not every cry for help is silenced,
Nor every loss beyond recall.
Not every chasm spells disaster.
Not only the weak will be brought to their knees,
Nor every soul be trodden under.

It won’t all end in tears and blood.
Today is heavy with tomorrow—
The future was planted yesterday.
Hope is a burden all of us shoulder
Though we might stumble under the load.

Even though—because of my naturally pessimistic nature—I'm more inclined towards Bei Dao, I cannot ignore the fact that Shu Ting's poem is also based on truth.  I love both poems because, when they are brought together, they are like a beautiful yin-yang sign.  These two poems are absolutely great.

I looked in my English III textbook and found three excellent poems that are now my new favorites.    Two are by Emily Dickinson and one is by Shui Ting—one of my absolute favorite poets.

"Fairy Tales"
by Shui Ting

You believed in your own story,
then climbed inside—
a turquoise flower.
You gazed past ailing trees,
past crumbling walls and rusty railings.
Your least gesture beckoned a constellation
of wild vetch, grasshoppers, and stars
to sweep you into immaculate distances.

The heart may be tiny
but the world's enormous.

And the people in turn believe—
in pine trees after rain,
ten thousand tiny suns, a mulberry branch
bent over water like a fishing-rod,
a cloud tangled in the tail of a kite.
Shaking off dust, in silver voices
ten thousand memories sing from your dream.

The world may be tiny
but the heart's enormous.

I feel like she's speaking to me.    She depicted a large chunk of my imagination in that poem so well to where it really feels like I'm the person that she's speaking to and about.  (This is my ultimate favorite poem of hers.) 

♥

"I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—"
by Emily Dickinson

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witness—in the Room

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Window's failed—and then
I could not see to see—

I get a melancholic and peacefully twisted feeling from this piece.  I see a woman on her bed, dying, and something catches her eyes before she passes away—something that has deep impact for her before she is no longer alive to continue seeing it.

"There's a Certain Slant of Light"
by Emily Dickinson

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons—
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes—

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are—

None may teach it—Any—
'Tis the Seal Despair—
an imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air—

When it comes, the Landscape listens—
Shadows—hold their breath—
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the Look of Death—

This poem reminds me of winter in Ohio.

Today's my 18th birthday.  Sweet Jesus Christ, where does the time go?

"Fire Face"

17 years
of capricious cheeks;
mimics of
the weather—
frowns that
could change anything.
Blooming palms,
holding
the rays
of the sun—
orange, edible
feathers
and turquoise proverbs
of kisses and sincerity.

18.
Beet eyes
and to
my knees.
Molted replicas
I do adore.

When pebbles
turn over—
thought to blood;
health to effervescence.
Flesh to sin;
collapse to death.
To a crib
of upset,
a fire face
of infant
 harmony.

© 2009 – CM.

JUNE 29, 2008

This is the other one that I wrote last night—the sudden eruption of passion...

Carriers—Beneath the Skin

An adult face

shakes me

with an unaltered voice.

Of vibrant kin,

beneath the flesh

in them it lays—

what died,

what has been slain.

Atoms of staggering beauty—

marmalade.

Gentile menstruation;

warm gushes

of particles

still lacing my mouth.

Through my tear-ducts,

flecks—

a still-life

without vibration

without commiseration,

without potential to be revived.

Other siblings,

carrying the starving gems

are being nipped

and chewed

from the decade’s departure—

an omen

calling fourth

the scorpions

and piss ants

of our last time.

© 2008 – CM.

JUNE 09, 2008

I finally got around to it; I finally wrote two poems, one of which I have been meaning to write for over a month.  The other one just spilled out of me last night—a sudden eruption of passion.  This poem is about my beloved guardian angel—Claudia.

Claudia

Protection

from my ever-faithful angel—

a guardian

of good intentions.

Her playful feathers,

abundant;

cinnamon wings

and an apricot breeze

nest by my bedside.

Tangerine words

accompany a butterscotch voice.

Her presence,

serene and firm;

a kaleidoscope

of margarine

and pineapple.

Her silencing roar

behind my shoulder

has kept me safe.

Precious thorns

on a delicate, yellow rose—

her weaponry.

A cosmic wonder,

a nugget of golden luster—

Claudia.

© 2008 – CM.

JUNE 09, 2008

The shape of the poem looks weird, but the poem itself is passionate.

Persecution—

Butchering the Tree

A stentorian heart—

suffocating ringing in my head.

A temperamental vine

sweeps through

and devastates

the flowering buds.

Fingernails through my wits,

on my cheeks,

and falling

down my throat-

coated with cellophane,

wrapping around my esophagus,

I smother

internally.

Baking eyes,

rimmed with barbs

and prison bars-

clawing,

savagely starving

for heated rebuttal

to stifle my lips

and file his tongue;

serpentine prongs

slash my arms,

my fists,

and jab at my eyes.

 Brown weariness

has done all

but engage.

The only escape

is to butcher

the tree.

© 2008 – CM.

JUNE 02, 2008

Sad poem.

Medicine—

the Death of Happiness

Bruised snowflakes

press against the barrier

of love and hate—

a window

that separates flickering hearts from

an abominable face.

In one room-

my heart’s in a hospital;

the IV siphoning hope into my veins;

whispering to the scabs

to stop peeling.

In the other-
grinning at me is a fireplace
where I used to be near;

yellow bronze winks

at my sallow face

that once held color.

Outside-

features,

surprised, hurt, afraid,

look inside—

one of them is mine.

© 2008 – CM.

Happenings in the Sky

Fountains of chills

fall from Midnight’s Gown

and pour over me;

they caress;

they kiss;

they trot about

on my restless heart.

All the galaxies

bow in humility

to the deceased nuclear star

 that showed me everything

I dreamed of feeling.

The world—

with skeleton children

and dusty eyes-

it closes

when the year comes

to brand it.

Molasses fingers

left their print

in hopes that it would cure me;

a taste so great-

water that masticates

away my misanthropy.

A sweet,

empty hunger

crystallizes in my mouth

and rots in my stomach.

The hourglass

spills blood down its spout-

tinkling “it will come”—

When?

What’s left on my dry,

numb,

and barren tongue—

“after.”

© 2008 – CM.

I've decided to put some of my writing on here.  I know that maybe no one will read it—I seriously need to get some more Window's Live buddies—but I'm just going to post it here just in case someone will enjoy reading a piece or two and would like to message me.

JANUARY 19, 2009

Reoccurring Dream
I keep dreaming of a particular school building—my intuition tells me that it's located somewhere out in the Western U.S.; it's somewhere in America and it's someplace hot and dry—and the dream keeps drawing attention to the bathroom.  Each episode is relatively different, but the same scene always shows up.  Last night, I was at first on the school campus outside.  I stood outside and watched a little blonde girl being sexually harassed by the security officer at the school.  Well, as the day progressed, I followed this girl around to see if she was going to be okay and if I needed to defend her or not, but the dream was oddly cut short because it didn't show the passing of class periods.  (The main point of the dream starts near the very end of the climax/bordering the resolution and then school is suddenly dismissed.)  When I followed the girl, I watched her sneak somewhere either outside to a pay phone of into the office and she called the police, telling them that she was being sexually harassed by someone at school and the police told her that they would arrive immediately.  Later—parts of the dream that are irrelevant to the girl are block—the cops show up right as school is being dismissed and the little girl starts leaving the main part of the building to exit the school from the back way—which is insanely long—and the cops are left with a false name that the girl gave them.  Apparently, no one in that school went by the name Glenda.  I saw the girl walking through a mass of kids through the back end of the school and I followed her.  We all went through a long series of halls and down a long series of steps and at one point, I lost her.  I then turned and went into the bathroom of the school—the back bathroom, (which was atrocious!!!).  When I went in, I witnessed that there weren't even any toilets, but rather just a group of cabinets way up on the tops of the walls and there was a long counter where the kids had to climb up onto the cabinets and curl up and urinate/defecate on!  There were two sinks on either counter and there was one on the far end and one on the front end, (where I climbed up).  The kids had no way to urinate but to take stood up bunches of Baby Wipes boxes, rip out the wipes and urinate/defecate inside of the empty wipe boxes.  I crawled up onto the first cabinet over the counter and I found that I had gotten myself stuck; I was scared that I would fall and I almost did and the kids looked at me quietly, but they didn't make fun of me or really say much.  I saw several kids crawling into the cabinets and closing the doors to urinate in the boxes.  Some of them stared at me, but not in a cruel way.  The girl at this point was either on her way home, or she was somewhere else and I just couldn't see her.  I didn't catch her first name, but her last name is Brittman.

Building Structure
The beginning of this building is absolutely enormous, but it gradually becomes narrow down to the back of the building where it is the narrowest and most uncomfortable to be.  The front of the building has good bathrooms that the students and the faculty and staff can use and the main rooms in the front of the building are the cafeteria, the auditorium, the office, the councilors’ room, and the gymnasium.  In the middle of the school building—(getting more narrow)—is where all of the classrooms are located.  Then, at the very end of the building there is nothing but a long line of stairways and steps.  At the very last hall, there is the nasty horrible excuse for a bathroom on the right, nothing on the left, and then the back door that leads out as an exit.

Very odd place.  =/

DECEMBER 28, 2008

9/11
In this dream—I believe I woke up from it at about 6am to go get a drink of water and then go back to bed for some more sleep—I was demon possessed; I was lying in my bed and I started hissing and moaning uncontrollably and then I got out of bed and went over to the mirror in my room and started laughing hysterically at it and screaming "nine eleven, nine eleven!".  I then walked around the house a little bit, trying to fight off the beast that went inside of me, and I went to see my mother who asked "Why were you yelling in your room?" and I told her while being panic-stricken and deeply disturbed that I was possessed and that I need help.  At this time, my mom wasn't feeling very good and she was in a hypnotic, mind-control-based trance—she was on her [drugs] that the "doctor" gave her for her "fibromyalgia"—and she didn't pay attention to a single word that I said to her, but rather, she just blew her cigarette smoke in my face and said "That's interesting.".  She didn't care.

School Building
This dream woke me up feeling paranoid and sick to my stomach.  In this one, I was at my high school and I was walking around the building, trying to avoid one of the school teachers that I have a real problem with in real life.  (Ever since this teacher and I had a great falling out—we were never even friends to begin with, even though she believes otherwise, and for what reason I do not know—she has been attacking me at school; she's been following me around and calling me names such as "fat" and "rude", and she's implied that I'm stupid, but I don't know why.  On the exterior, she seems very nice, but underneath, I think she's really hiding something besides her bitter heart and her cruel words.)  Well, I kept walking all around the entire building, trying to keep away from her because she kept trying to hunt me down and verbally harass me—and possibly even do something physically, I'm not sure—and at the same time I was also trying to find my book bag because I had lost it and I needed to get it before I went home that evening.  I went down all of the hallways in the school and while I know exactly where my locker is, for some time I became oddly disoriented and I was unable to find the hallway with my locker!  (HAARP technology does this sort of thing to people, by the way.)  Research it.  I eventually gave up on finding my locker and my book bag and then I went outside and, much to my dismay, the busses were just leaving the school building!  I was also lucky enough to find that my mom was waiting outside for me at the exact same time, right behind several busses that were zooming off.  I got into the truck and told her what happened and she either said or implied in one way or another that we would come back for the book bag later.  There was then this little blip in the dream where I was standing outside the school building, looking up over top of it and my intuition suddenly told me that there was a space craft hovering over it, even though I could not see it with my two human eyes.  And at the same time, there was an Asian girl standing next to me, talking to me with a very cheery voice; while she was being very pleasant to me, she had very sick looking features—which is NOT a common trait of normal Asians.  This girl's face was not that of natural, soft amber flesh—it was plastic, but at the same time that she was speaking to me, it moved with her face perfectly, but I could smell the odor of plastic coming from her whole body and I could as well smell a sour-like smell coming from the school building.  It was the smell of souring milk and—if you could imagine it—a mixture of bad perfume.  It woke me up near to heaving. 

Drunken Man
(There is a man that my family knows—they claim that he's a part of the family, but he's not really because he's not related to anyone in my family neither through marriage nor through blood—but my family calls him "Uncle Rick".)  In this dream, he came back to come live with us, even though my mom and I DO NOT want him living with us on account of the fact that he's a violent drunk, he's extremely racist, and he's a dirty hog.  When he came to live with us, he got drunk all of the time, and at one point in the dream—while he was drunk—he kept breaking into my room while I kept pushing at the door so he wouldn't get in and he got in two times, but he didn't get in the third time because I used both of my hands and all of my body weight.  The first two times he came into my room he spilt some beer on my carpet and messed with my alarm clock.  After he left, he went back into the kitchen and kept eating at our food and sat alongside my stepfather and just kept on a conversation.  Neither one of them cared that he was being a total slob and a complete monster.

JULY 30, 2008

It has been said that a lot—if not most—Aquarians have very vivid dreams, and usually dream in color, too.  For me, this is the epitome of truth.  All my life I have always dreamed in color—I have never had a black and white dream that I can remember.  A lot of times my dreams are prophetic.  And other times my dreams are just very odd, but in some cases, they almost always symbolically represent something that I need to be aware of in my waking life. 
 
Last Night
Just the other night I had another very strange dream.  I dreamt that Yahweh came to me as a parrot; this parrot had stunning crimson red eyes and, obviously, brilliantly colored feathers that were red, green, blue, and yellow.  The other character that came to me was that of a bob cat, playing the role of Beelzebub.  The bob cat was dully colored; it was a light gray biege-ish color with black stripes across its back.  I was in two rooms at different times; I was in the central room at one point in the dream—a white room with large windows; the sky outside was a dark gray and no sunlight was coming in—and when I was in that room with the bob cat, it screamed and hissed at me, and the whole while that it did this, my heart was suddenly filled with the memories of all of my faults, of all of my regrets, and all of my past pains.  It was the Enemy that was in that room with me.  In the other room, Yahweh was perched on a chair.  His eyes were large and red and glowed at me with curiosity.  I walked over to him, looked at him very closely, and no matter where in that room that I went, he stayed right next to me.  It was as though he was sticking with me as a friend.  I had my Friend in that room with me.
 
Dream Book
Back in the 1990's, my grandmother had bought this book that doubled as an astrology and dream interpretations book.  I have had this book as my own for years after my grandmother gave it to my mom, and hence my mom eventually gave it to me.  On occasion my mom will look up a dream in the book, but most of the time it just sits in my room, waiting for someone else to open up its faded pages and exam its old detail. Years and years after the publication of that dream book—I believe the year that it was published was 1994—it has still predicted many past dreams of mine.  I believe it still has the power to do that, today.  All of the predictions were either 80% to 99% accurate.
 
It's a very remarkable book.

Babe
It was one day in either June or July, the time is foggy to me; my doggy, Babe—probably like most dogs, I suppose—came into the house with the desire to wipe her butt on something ... after having been outside, defecating.  From what I have gathered, most dogs will sometimes wipe their furry behinds on the house carpet; (my family doesn't have a carpet—we have a hard wood floor—but we also have a large rug in the middle of the living room that a dog could wipe their butt on).  Oddly enough, one day, my doggy Babe decided that she didn't want to use our carpet as her source of anal clean-age ... no ... she wanted something plush ... something smaller ... and something that ... didn't belong to her...
 
She used one of my slippers to wipe her butt on, the sneaky thing!  I was petting her and she suddenly started rubbing her bum against my right slipper!  The next thing I knew, I had a long, stinky brown skid mark on my right slipper!  Needless to say, I washed my right slipper—(or did I wash both of them?)—but now ... I keep my slippers far away from Babe's bottom.  O_O

I have two dogs, both of them being female.  The first one's name is Sadie—she's half Springer Spaniel and half Black Lab—and the second one's name is Babe and she is half Golden Retriever and German Sheppard.  I got both of my doggies when I lived in Ohio and I've had them for years; (I can't remember how long I've had them in my life because it's been so long since I've first got them), but they are ultimately one of the best gifts that Elohim has ever given me in this life.  I got my Sadie when I lived in Madison County, Ohio; I can still remember the very first day that we got her.  It was like bringing a baby into the house; I knew that I would have a lot of responsibilities out of taking care of her and giving her attention and love, but in the depth of my heart, looking into that face, I knew that it was something that I sincerely would love to do.  She was so small and precious ... but even though she's an adult now, she's still such a sweet animal.  Within the small amount of time after my mom got her for me—maybe about within a month's time frame—my family and I up and moved to South Charleston, Ohio.  About a couple months into the school year when I first started the fourth grade, my mom had found someone who had a dog that they wanted to get rid of ... and my mom came into the house, bringing with her the CUTEST ball of fur that I have ever seen in my life—Babe.

My parents and I ... basically saved Sadie.  She was born out of a litter of puppies that were to either find a home ... or to be killed; the man who had her even stated how he would put her down—he was planning on shooting her in the back of the head with a shotgun.  Luckily, my mom and I found out about her and we saved her from an early death ... and we gave her a wonderful home.  I can honestly attest to the fact that, if Sadie was not a part of our family for all of the years that she has been, my parents and I would not be a family.  Our lives don't mean much without these wonderful pooches.

My mom and I have reason to believe that the previous owners of Babe were relatively abusive to her.  Usually, phobias occur through traumatic events in one's life ... and my doggie, Babe, is ligyrophobic.  Every time it thunders, my mom runs the vaccum cleaner, or fireworks are let off, she becomes terrified.  She has been this way ever since we had her as a little pup, but we don't know what to do to cure her phobia.  We also believe that it's a possibility that she was left outside during a dreadful thunderstorm when she was just a newborn, thus resulting in her fear, but we're not for certain ... and if we truly do not know precisely what caused her to be so scared, then how can we help her?

It just deeply moves me that the Yahweh has given me a creature in my life that shares with me the same problem that I use to have—a phobia.  Yahweh has delivered me of my phobia ... and I pray that He will bless Babe with the same experience that He gave me.