We are born,
blessed and naked,
weak with fear and delight -
overwhelmed by the senses
that yield to our minds the power of life.
With hands we grasp the threads,
unwilling to release,
relentless our desires to fight!
We are new and we are loud on the scene -
quick to scream our names into the light,
and we are wild and trembling,
our muscles extending from the matrix:
all awareness of the heavens.
Breathe in the fresh air,
Oh the blessings of those delighted
to find us in their arms -
Oh, how we are born!
Incest with indignation,
Satan stood:
Terrible and like a comet,
burned.
Those fires, the length of Ophiucus
Huge in the arctic sky,
and from his horrid hair:
Snakes, pestilence, and war!
There is no mercy
For the Wanderer:
Poet to the lost, open world.
His Spirit paints the canyons,
While the sun cooks the clay.
The Wanderer, the Master,
Delivers word from a fifty-year grave.
Trembling in the wind, the darkness stirs and settles in.
Night, long night, long dreamless Night awakes.
Each cherub breaks its head, each crown of golden light is bled,
Brave Moon, in his saddle, rides, collecting the tears from their starry eyes...
Oh, long Night, she hath come - seemingly, to wait for no one.
Like a wing, her shadow falls: screaming silently upon the wind,
Breaking branches like bone, revealing marrow within...
Awake, awake, awake they lay; yet the children of heaven do not easily die.
With each hour, how the Night grows old, years descent, later, and later, and cold...
The cherubs must lift their wilted crowns -
TITLE: Walkers With the Dawn
Being walkers with the dawn and morning,
Walkers with the sun and morning,
We are not afraid of night,
Nor days of gloom,
Nor darkness
Being walkers with the sun and morning.
- Langston Hughes
Lines of cloud curled, following the wind, winding and snapping like a snake into the stark blue skies. Bold, course grains flowed over the desert, red as rainfall on the forsaken land. Crisp snippets of the rough terrain leaped like fleas as they were caught into the wind; up, up, up into the cold, hard air, landing heavily. Sand grains imitating tailless meteorites, before dissolving back into the sand.
Though many shadows hem the heavens
No star is ever too far away.
Follow the North star from the tip of the river,
Traverse mountains, through cold rivers, beyond days;
No length of distance,
No measure of time,
No exhaustion could ever be too great.
The light of tomorrow can layer the dawn
No sun is never that far from the day.
Follow the shadow left before sunlight,
Eyes wide open, soul flying through the night
For the valley is deep,
For the river is wild,
For the world is forever in waiting.
meticulously watching rain
d
r
o
p
birthed from carved stones of gray
Implications of "they sky is f
a
l
l
i
n
g" seem very real to me
mathematical equation =
a circle's line is straight
It seems eternity has a timeline inside of me
the third eye takes a snap! shot*
because memories tend to fade;
the colors growi
These are the days where the sun is comparable to milky waters
Unabashed by the atmospheres and the seasons will to change
Pouring o'er like golden honey upon the greenest growth of grassy seas
We are born,
blessed and naked,
weak with fear and delight -
overwhelmed by the senses
that yield to our minds the power of life.
With hands we grasp the threads,
unwilling to release,
relentless our desires to fight!
We are new and we are loud on the scene -
quick to scream our names into the light,
and we are wild and trembling,
our muscles extending from the matrix:
all awareness of the heavens.
Breathe in the fresh air,
Oh the blessings of those delighted
to find us in their arms -
Oh, how we are born!
Incest with indignation,
Satan stood:
Terrible and like a comet,
burned.
Those fires, the length of Ophiucus
Huge in the arctic sky,
and from his horrid hair:
Snakes, pestilence, and war!
There is no mercy
For the Wanderer:
Poet to the lost, open world.
His Spirit paints the canyons,
While the sun cooks the clay.
The Wanderer, the Master,
Delivers word from a fifty-year grave.
Trembling in the wind, the darkness stirs and settles in.
Night, long night, long dreamless Night awakes.
Each cherub breaks its head, each crown of golden light is bled,
Brave Moon, in his saddle, rides, collecting the tears from their starry eyes...
Oh, long Night, she hath come - seemingly, to wait for no one.
Like a wing, her shadow falls: screaming silently upon the wind,
Breaking branches like bone, revealing marrow within...
Awake, awake, awake they lay; yet the children of heaven do not easily die.
With each hour, how the Night grows old, years descent, later, and later, and cold...
The cherubs must lift their wilted crowns -
TITLE: Walkers With the Dawn
Being walkers with the dawn and morning,
Walkers with the sun and morning,
We are not afraid of night,
Nor days of gloom,
Nor darkness
Being walkers with the sun and morning.
- Langston Hughes
Lines of cloud curled, following the wind, winding and snapping like a snake into the stark blue skies. Bold, course grains flowed over the desert, red as rainfall on the forsaken land. Crisp snippets of the rough terrain leaped like fleas as they were caught into the wind; up, up, up into the cold, hard air, landing heavily. Sand grains imitating tailless meteorites, before dissolving back into the sand.
Though many shadows hem the heavens
No star is ever too far away.
Follow the North star from the tip of the river,
Traverse mountains, through cold rivers, beyond days;
No length of distance,
No measure of time,
No exhaustion could ever be too great.
The light of tomorrow can layer the dawn
No sun is never that far from the day.
Follow the shadow left before sunlight,
Eyes wide open, soul flying through the night
For the valley is deep,
For the river is wild,
For the world is forever in waiting.
meticulously watching rain
d
r
o
p
birthed from carved stones of gray
Implications of "they sky is f
a
l
l
i
n
g" seem very real to me
mathematical equation =
a circle's line is straight
It seems eternity has a timeline inside of me
the third eye takes a snap! shot*
because memories tend to fade;
the colors growi
These are the days where the sun is comparable to milky waters
Unabashed by the atmospheres and the seasons will to change
Pouring o'er like golden honey upon the greenest growth of grassy seas
The Innocent
Season of flowers
dry woods, cold bones
The Black abyss
erupted in flames
trees, twigs, leaves
The escape
of flowers
vines of green
The silence
of spiders
and souls
When I study Poets
Who passed their hours
In passion, peace
And quiet thoughts-
Who spun their words
From sylvan towers
And sat at ease
In flowered courts.
Or in Amherst hurt
A single girl
Who pressed against
Her windowpanes-
While a thousand
Hours alone unfurled
Her arm commenced
To pen the rains.
I'm juxtaposed
By vanished stars
Who scribbled into a
Scrolling sky-
Their elegant prose
And anguished scars
Speak forever; they
Can never die.
There is no mercy
For the Wanderer:
Poet to the lost, open world.
His Spirit paints the canyons,
While the sun cooks the clay.
The Wanderer, the Master,
Delivers word from a fifty-year grave.
Sagittarius; a spirit born to fly, breathe and run. Lover of life, liberty and art. Blazing in the light of a million burning suns; diamond glow reflecting to the inner cage of my heart, flooding my lips, fingers, and soul. Devoted fanatic to the genius of Danny Elfman and the brilliance that is Oingo Boingo. Breather and drinker of Jack&Meg's delightful duo of The White Stripes; and Jack's side projects that are The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather. Oh yes - it's all a fever and a sickness - I know! Dreamer, reader and fantasizer of words on the the wing. From midnight oils burning to the sun zooming in, there's just not much to do without the shadow of a good song or poem burning in the back of my mind and enriching my soul.
"Poetic Motions, Grander than the sea...The universe twists like a lime over tequila; words set free."
Current Residence: The misty hills of gold: Ventura, California deviantWEAR sizing preference: Medium Print preference: Matte Favourite genre of music: Rock/Indie Rock Favourite photographer: Katherine Rodriguez Favourite style of art: Madness Wallpaper of choice: Morrison&Krieger B&W Photo Skin of choice: Lizard scales would be cool to wear (probably a bit itchy though) Favourite cartoon character: Guilmon, Daffy Duck, Serendipity the pink dragon Personal Quote: Poetic Motions, Grander than the sea...The universe twists like a lime over tequila; words set free.
Favourite Visual Artist
M.C. Escher, Goya, G.H. Carpenter III, Matisse, VanGogh, DaVinci
Favourite Movies
Donnie Darko, Little Nemo Lost in Slumberland, Where the Wild Things Are...
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Oingo Boingo, The White Stripes, Saint Saens, Arcade Fire, Pink Floyd, Grieg, etc...
Favourite Writers
John Milton, John Donne, Anne McCaffrey, Douglas Adams...
Favourite Games
Chess!!! (Oh dear GOD, please play with me!!!!!!!)
Tools of the Trade
Mind, Eyes, Hands...you get the idea.
Other Interests
Seething madly with blood-soaked pen staining my hands...red and black off-beats.
Yeah, that's right. Zebra pants. You jealous yet???
I don't have many updates to make, just a short, sweet, hello and goodbye. I have just moved North of my hometown and it has been both a relief and a stress. Currently, my man and I are residing in a hotel (going on 3 1/2 weeks here) which I believe could drive anyone into the town of insanity.
That being said...I am trying to stay up-beat, positive, and in touch with all that is good.
Any road, life takes you places, and when it moves you, you move with it. Thus, the bright and happy medium of Mountain View, CA. Woot!
I am hoping this transition will provide me with more time to pursue
Good evening to all who are here, there and everywhere!
I have a very talented friend here in my hometown of Ventura, CA (Woot!) who is now teaching guitar. He has a lot of experience, is an amazing composer, has more talent in his pinky-finger than most do within all of their fingers and toes combined, and he's very eager to get this endeavor off of the ground.
Now, we've all been the starving artist here at least once in our lives, and this man is really going out there and giving it his all! I say, at the least, if you live in this area and are considering guitar/piano lessons, you give this dude a call.
:eager: A link to his website/li
Follow the arc to Arcturus,
and on to Spica go;
Then turn northwest to Regulus,
the foot of the lion, Leo.
It's just that far to Gemini,
Where Castor and Pollux glow,
Near Rigel, and Capella,
And Sirius, down below.
Anonymous astronomer's mnemonic, quoted in Seeing in the Dark (2002)
Howdy! Doing quite well, just busy, busy, busy! I sure miss being on here (I thought I'd have more time to check in, but as usual, I was wrong!) How are you doing? Any new writing to be read?