Bizarre Celebrations

knockoutned — Tue, 14 Feb 2006 15:46:47 +0000

My Valentine’s Diarama

Battleground scene:
The sky is cold grey
but burned in lashes
with crimson sashes
and ribbons that I sent you.

The bodies
of these Valentines
Day warriors are strewn about.
Their armor, candy-coated,
is twisted and split.
They are all decorated
in silly notions of
pink plastic, red roses, and
“Be Mine”.

Not a single chocolate sword
has left its sheath.

Their heads are still
in the clouds,
wedged between the cracks
and pinning them up.

St. Valentine heads north
because his work here is finished.

An old Irish blessing for loved ones upon parting

knockoutned — Sun, 05 Feb 2006 09:09:08 +0000

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
the rains fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

May the saddest day of your future
be no worse that the happiest day of your past.

Take It Easy (and various others)

knockoutned — Sat, 04 Feb 2006 08:59:54 +0000

“I found out a long time ago
What a woman can do to your soul,
But she can’t take you anyway
you don’t already know how to go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I get the feelin’ I may know you
as a lover and a friend
a voice keeps whispering in my other ear
tells me I may never see you again.“

Music is an integral part of my life. I cannot live without it. It is the true voice of my heart.

“When the rain
beats against my windowpane
I’ll think of summer days again
and dream of you . . . “

Alchemy, maybe . . . ?

knockoutned — Thu, 02 Feb 2006 18:42:31 +0000

It occurs to me in light of recent life experiences that a large part of getting what you want involves doing exactly the opposite of what you want. You want to buy a car to go hang out with your friends? Well, you won’t be hanging out with your friends for a long time. Your friends are going to want you to come hang out with them, but you’ll have to tell them that you have a job, and can’t afford to spend any money. In fact, given the financial stability of a person at the average age at which most people purchase their first car, you’ll probably have to hoard pennies like a miser if you want that car any time within the next year or so.

I, for instance, would like my own apartment, my own car, and a steady, decent paycheck. I want to be able to hang out with my friends whenever I want, have some extra spending money every once in a while, and work my way towards being an independant person. In order to do that, I have to: a)stop hanging out with my friends for a while; and b)become disciplined enough to maintain school and a job.

It seems to me that there’s some great metaphysical pawn shop we all frequent, where hard work and discipline are compensated for with successes in life. It’s a barter system, through and through. Alchemy, if you will. You must give to receive. The Law of Equivalent Exchange. Karma, in a more materialistic sense.

But you said . . .

knockoutned — Fri, 27 Jan 2006 15:56:33 +0000

As we sat with
chaos and creation
raging inside our heads,
with all the sound and the fury
of our thoughts being torn apart
by chemicals;
As we melted our words down with violence
One
letter
at
a

time, and before they cooled in their cast,
they poured out in a flood . . .

While we desecrated and demolished
our brains just for the hell of it,

I came, got what I wanted and left.

Just like you said it would be.

knockoutned — Thu, 26 Jan 2006 21:52:23 +0000

She’s older and I’m out. I feel blah. Time for school.

I wrote this one a while back . . .

knockoutned — Wed, 25 Jan 2006 18:20:53 +0000

The sky makes me restless
I watched the sky all night
and determined:
It is a fisheye lens pointed at nothing.
It is a cliff over which people hurl themselves.
It is a prayer paper, spitefully burning away when touched by the morning sun.

The trees make rusty smears on the horizon
and distort the edges
ugly so I
can’t see where the corners are tucked under.

Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep.

Dramamine

knockoutned — Wed, 25 Jan 2006 18:05:46 +0000

If you could just milk it for everything
I’ve said what I’d said and you know what I mean
But I still can’t focus on anything.
We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves.
Travelling, swallowing Dramamine.
Look at your face like you’re killed in a dream.
And you think you’ve figured out everything . . .
I think I know my geography pretty damn well