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 Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:46 pm
Willkommen zum Asyl!
I often write a lot of random stuff, usually poetry and lyrics. I'm hoping to record my poems, because quite frankly, it's not the same when read and poems are meant to be spoken anyway. I also have written many short stories, all horror and macabre, so skip those if you must. Some are quite sickening. I've deprived a few people from some sleep from what I've heard. Lawlz.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:49 pm
1.0
Alpentraum
Ich habe dieses violette Opium
und habe Glücklich zerstören
Die Dame steht im Zimmer und spricht,
dass sie dich in Rot liebt
Und Bomben fallen von dem Himmel
in meinem dunklen Alpentraum
Ich weiß, dass ich bin meine eigene Zerstörung
Aber das ist, wie es in meinem Alpentraum ist
*Not totally sure if my grammar is correct, but did the best I could with my knowledge. I'm far from fluent in German at this point.
1.5
Nightmare
I have this violet opium
and luck to destroy
The lady stands in the room and speaks,
because she loves you in red
And bombs fall from the sky
in my dark nightmare
I know that I am my own destruction
But that is how it is in my nightmare
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 9:56 pm
2.0
cursed
‘what a nice surprise’ is that what you expect me to say
when you suddenly appear out of the blue at my side today?
quite frankly, i’m none too happy with our little visits where i
sit at a small table and serve imaginary tea until i, too, could fly.
how many other little girls have fallen prey to your quaint charm?
funny how your oddity never raises questions, never raises an alarm,
but you’re not the only one around that likes to play games and clever tricks.
you like to drag me to the card table and lay it all out with a quiet hick.
the air heavy with intoxication when no drink has been present for a century;
before the rage, a simple misunderstanding gone wrong, unseen by a fierce jury.
i am an unsuitable wife who’d bet her life - with all the smiling, deceitful jacks
in her hand - that she is a beacon of light, this girl who collapses from the pain in her back;
and she, i, yell at you, beg, for it to end as the mental toll is just as great.
but you see it differently, with your black pigtails flying about, and i wonder, if it is fate
that has brought such burdens to me... you wicked little child, throwing apples at my face
in the mornings, when i finally let my guard down, and i’ll see that you’re gone without a trace.
and you, you stand stalk still on the stairs, specs focused on the morning light through a window
that you will never reach. one that is bright, comfortable and warm through the glow;
i’m frightened and fascinated by your presence, and i ponder all the possibilities of why
you are here. and it is strange... that i cannot see you, yet i see your dress and see you cry.
and you, too, through the beat of the drums that pounds in my ears, why are you not heard
by anyone else but me? you’re all dressed up in uniform ready to go, ready to be cured.
i take it all in, one bit at a time and i realize quite suddenly what i must do to survive.
these tasks are tedious, and station myself in harm’s way since i can only accept that dead is the new alive.
dead is the new black - the act others will put on, even though they do not have the eyes to see
that you’re all leaving me again, which i find to be a bit selfish and unfair, and i grieve
my loss, as you melt through my bedroom walls, never to visit me again, despite what i’ve done.
it is a terrible curse i must endure, but right next to me lies the gun.
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Posted: Sat Jul 21, 2007 1:14 am
eek
Never before have I read poetry (or at least not in a great while) that has left me with so much of me hanging on every typed up word.
It's beautiful, rendering in it's oddity. I love the second poem you put up, "Cursed". I don't think that feeling I got reading it, like I was being lured into a slumber like trance through your words, will leave me any time soon.
I would love to read more of your works. :3
You're learning German? I love that language. I've been putting off studying it for years, but it is beautiful (in a harsher way then I normally hear).
heart
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 5:18 pm
Iractis eek Never before have I read poetry (or at least not in a great while) that has left me with so much of me hanging on every typed up word. It's beautiful, rendering in it's oddity. I love the second poem you put up, "Cursed". I don't think that feeling I got reading it, like I was being lured into a slumber like trance through your words, will leave me any time soon. I would love to read more of your works. :3 You're learning German? I love that language. I've been putting off studying it for years, but it is beautiful (in a harsher way then I normally hear). heart Wow, thank you. And yeah, working on getting fluent in German. My grammar can be kind of weird though. Ah those foreigners. xD I'd love to live in Dresden though, it looks absolutely beautiful now. Russian is quite fun too.
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 5:21 pm
3.0
Masquerade
Come hither I to this colorfully chaotic masquerade
They must think it queer and maybe slightly depressing
That come I adorned in this black dress of death and mask of impurity
Flattered am I when the men believe I be the widow they are addressing
However, the widow just glided off into the parlor, I know her by her walk
Yet I will gracefully accept the shirts’ adoration
I shall see among them the man who believes he is quite the comedian
But it is really he who cannot seem to drink in moderation
Such shame when across the way spy I the wretched harlot
With the smoothest guile ever yet have I seen
She flirts endlessly with a man who I have known to think highly of himself
Though I know even my simple wit surpasses his muffled dream
And over there, hiding beneath his mask, is a man who believes
That he is in fact Apollo descending from the heavens to grace
Us of his godly presence, so it is really quite amusing
To know that what lies beneath is actually Pan’s face
I stand here among these aristocrats who think of themselves
In such fake light, that I am truly the only one in which the sun
Shall shine upon for I know who I truly am, and though a female artist
Is frowned upon, I show no man the secrets which I have begun
Thou know it not, but what I see is the truth and I shall
Unveil it to the eyes of no other mortal since social laws I not abide
Thou art but the nude models on the canvas
I hide in the wardrobe where this dress of death resides
And when the night retires and the faces come off
Thou shalt not see the drunkard slurring his voice
Thou shalt not see that Apollo is not even a Pan
Thou shalt not see the widow who never had a choice
Thou shalt not see the harlot who reeks of sin
Thou shalt not see that man who possesses no wit
Thou shalt not see that I paint when I be forbidden
Thou shalt not see the essence of what is it
Yet it is strange that I cannot seem to pull off my mask…
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 6:03 pm
4.0
Dearest Will,
Is it not enough that you know not my name?
That me you’d follow a thousand miles
I swear by this accursed ability of mine
Yet you relish in it and reel me in with absent guile
You swear to never leave me
And I’ll admit that I’m afraid to believe it
Why me did you choose to follow?
You’ll come every night and with me you sit
By the window drinking the tea I leave
How is it that I can say quite confidently who you are?
Say I that your name is William
That you’re thirteen and away you died far
With the Union you drummed unaware
And when I converse with the stuffed shirts
Why then do you not vie for my attention?
Such properness will earn you hurt
You used to preserve my childhood, protecting the innocence
Is it that I am dead to you for you do not wish to see the child go?
Play I like a fool, I can, if it’d please you
But this wayward Victorian will speak not, and refuses to show
And perhaps I have found myself in her and through
The glass, a light breaks and I’ll see through a wall you drift
Rather than the vice versa, I’m leaving you
Will you come to visit me in a land of age old profit?
As I pack, will you play one last song for me?
And though I can no longer see you
I’ll wake in the morning to find the tea I’d left
Gone and the blinds open, and learn that I’ve missed you
Yet again
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