Convergence of Stars and Darkness

There is no world,
only heat and darkness and dust.

thereisnogodthereisnotimethereisnosoul --

 

fiery waves of liquid black
swathed by magma fog,
roll of muted thunderclap –
an ominous prologue 
to the swirling gurge of umbral shrieks
from shadows of the squall:
a hurricane of lava streaks
holds the universe in thrall.

cacophony, a symphony
a vile storm of screams
thundering and plundering
a realm of nightmare dreams
‘til every moment is a rape,
a pulsebeat wild as flame

(existence was profanic
knowledge was satanic
darkness was volcanic)

density, an intensity
to whispered, frenzied chants
rumbling and tumbling
a heart of dark decants
from boiling seas of ashy rage;
a maelstrom in the void

hushes into silence… ilence… ilence.



whatisexistencewhatistruthwhatislife



Once,
a newborn opened its eyes.

 

 

Light wasn’t a dream, after all.

Ohhh yes please. I fell off my bike today, scaped both hands pretty badly and my front teeth are all hurty and wriggly. What's worse, I have orchestra camp tomorrow, and guess what you need to play clarinet? Hands and front teeth! Fate could not have picked a worse time to do this to me. Good thing is, I can play out of the side of my mouth, and not put any pressure on the teeth, but... when it's a 12-hour rehearsal-camp and your NORMAL endurance (with front teeth) is 3 hours, that doesn't help very much.

Anyhoo, I finished a poem. I started the poor thing two years ago, when I was with... a guy. I'd almost forgotten about that. And surprisingly, the poem itself is about... well, just read the thing.

Boy and Girl in the Snow

 

Smiles so precarious lighten

winter’s day and linger

in clouded irises; snowflakes

settle as wind-streams play

tag between fingers

intertwined.

Yes and yes, because I think I'd get raped by my rapist neighbor if I do either.

Snape: That is a very serious accusation, Ms. Shadowstorm.
Buuuuut it's true.

Oh, but I don't believe in Western astrology.

Sipping at green tea
from a bottle, I wonder
where tea leaves come from.

Did they sway in sunshine breezes
from trees that overlooked
scurrying groundhogs, leaning into
windy fingers that combed through them, sighing
to the heat on a summer's day?
Sheltering singing children beneath
their collective shade, whispering,
'Once again, laugh for us once again.'

Did they fall in autumn, and
peek out shyly from modest buds
again and again, until song became
silence, and children came no more.
Even the blue jay's nest was empty,
a mess of the very twigs they once
spread their wings from.

And one night, did a young woman come,
pounding her fists against the trunk, the
force of feeble blows somehow reverberating
all the way to their veins. Did they taste
the tang of her tears
in the air, and hear
the name she whispered to herself
even as she stumbled away?

When I sip at the lifeblood of leaves,
I wonder where they came from,
and went.
I wonder if it's the taste of
a child's familiar song that blossoms on my tongue,
the bitterness of passing days and
loneliness recalled
lingering in my throat.
I remember the shaking leaves that whispered,
"Once again, come to us once again,"
their farewell to me as I
left home that night in tears.

Do they remember his name?

She of the weary, she of the wind,
She of the dust of those who have sinned,
She of the dreamers, she of the sighs,
She of the darkness behind closed eyes.

She who'd rather have loved and lost
Than not to have loved at all,
She who hopes on a star to love,
Though that star is meant to fall.

She who watches crackling flames,
And adores the fire for burning
She who sees her reflection dream
And adores the pain of yearning.

She of the silence, she of the words,
She of the songs of flightless birds
She of the tears, she who is I,
She who aches to say good-bye.

Right, so I was pretty antisocial earlier on the Return post.

Well, I am now a little more learned in the art of anime-watching. For the past year, I've gotten myself acquainted with several anime: Fruits Basket, Gakuen Alice, FMA, Romeo X Juliet, Vampire Knight, Elfin Lied, Loveless, DN Angel... I'm getting a feel for what I like, and strangely, I've liked everything I've seen so far (except for One Piece and Naruto). I like dark romance, sweet romance, action adventure, tragedy, brotherly love, slice of life... Just hate the immature ones with bad art. I even like the ones made for 12-year-olds. Currently, I am watching D. Gray-Man. It's a little strange in the beginning, but you get used to the mech-demons and odd weapons and whatnot. And hey, there's an antisocial blue-haired ninja/swordsman. I'm in love by default.  

I haven't done much writing this year, but my style has changed sporadically if you take into account what I did do. It's a little annoying, because they all seem to sound exactly the same, but eh, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. A style change means I'm starting to develop my late-blooming voice, I suppose.

Oh, I've finished High School. Thank god that's over. It's College now, well, pre-college. I have a strange educational program where I live. I'm cutting myself off contact with my High School 'friends', mostly because I don't want to be reminded of those 5 dreadful years. I even wrote myself a poem for amusement, in case I ever miss High School. And yeah, I capitalise it because it represents a life-altering period of negative feelings in my life. -purses lips-

 

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I'm back, after a one-year absence. Gee, great.

Got a few new poems for whoever's reading.

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1. My diary (once it's finished, of course). I mean, who wouldn't? There's only two points to a diary. The first one is to vent out everything a person would otherwise keep inside, and the second is so when you're old and wrinkly, you get to laugh at your young and foolish self. 

2. Well, other than that, it's hard to think of another object. Material possessions are pretty much worthless, and technology can only progress. I'd probably stick all my files and other useless crud (such as stories and poems. Ho my god, I'd have to type it all up then...) onto a disk and re-find it 50 years later, only to find that it is no longer compatible with the new odd computers they'd have. 

3. Uh.... This is getting hard. Does my dog count as an item? I think I'd miss him fifty years from now...
 

Here I go, not studying for the finals. Well, the Internet provides decent distractions to life, I suppose. 

I received (I before E, except after C...) the Chinese exam by email. I had to remind her, too. Shouldn't have, but then I wouldn't have gotten my credits. Probably won't, now that I think about it... Bah, does it really matter? I'll do it as a distraction.

And speaking of distractions, I wrote a poem. No, not THE poem. This one I did in Quebec, during the trip. Speaking of which, it was fun. Anyhow, it's a cute little poem, kinda deep (although, anything coming from me is kinda deep, unless you ask my "beta" [you know who you are]). I had fun with it, at least. I'd like to think that it, and Quebec, broke my writer's block. Or poet's block. Or lack of candy. Yes, I had lots of candy in Quebec. I need candy.  -goes off to find leftover Runts-

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