I look around me and see all these people, what they say, what the believe for the time; and it is the absolute truth for them? "Best girlfriend ever" how many times has any of us said this about more than one person? "You're the best" "you're the greatest" "I love you the most" is any of it true? "God is great and God is good" do you really believe that? Believe it on your own? Or has it just been fed to you since birth? Or maybe you just crave for something greater than yourself to make you feel better about being a temporary being on this planet. "I hate that bitch" do you really, or is this just some trivial pursuit for your own self-glorification and satisfaction? We make our own realities, don't we? That is, if you consider buying into somebody else's reality making up your own. There is no truth anymore, is there? It's all our own perception, our own subjective reality."I hate those fags, they're killing the country and our morals" really now? Where did you get that? Your own Holy Book doesn't mention it but a few times in the old order's laws which were basically all abolished under your faith's redeemer, then carried on with zealots sticking to tradition. Even as I write this, I fear everything I've come to believe is false, subjective, unreal, my own twisted version of the non-existent reality. I just, I love you people, and it hurts to see what you do to each other and yourselves. Is there any way to help? I'm probably just hurting the situation more, but if I don't let it out, then what will it do to me? Hurt me. Well there's a peek into my head, there's a little glimpse of my mind.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Beyond Words
She, oh this is so incredible!!!! She, she, oh I'm happy again! I'm happy! Thank you my love, thank you.
http://bestofanimemusic.tumblr.com/post/32875573203
http://thorbraid.tumblr.com/post/35122431065
She has made me happy again, because she has finally become what she can really be; one of the greatest helping hands anyone can meet.
http://bestofanimemusic.tumblr.com/post/32875573203
http://thorbraid.tumblr.com/post/35122431065
She has made me happy again, because she has finally become what she can really be; one of the greatest helping hands anyone can meet.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Poetic Analysis 1
Schoolsville-Billy Collins
The narrator of Schoolsville is a high school teacher reflecting on his past students making up a community. The grades and activities the students were involved in determine their class segregation. Judging from the final two stanzas, the narrator is rather despondent. He speaks in stanza seven that he rarely leaves his house, his car tires deflate, and vines grow around his porch swing. Then in stanza eight he conveys that his profession is a dead shell, for he now tries to keep it alive by lecturing wall paper, quizzing the chandelier, and reprimanding the air.
Because I Would Not Stop For Death- Emily Dickinson
Miss Dickinson was moderately obsessed with death poems from what I know, and this is one of her more famous poems. She speaks of dying and of Death as being not the state or happening, but rather a character or figure. She says that she is being brought to immortality by the absolution of her mortality. In the final Stanza, she comments that all the time since one day seems shorter than that one day, because it is the day she realized she was being brought to eternity.
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening- Robert Frost
First and foremost, I read this poem in sixth grade during a study island assignment. The narrator speaks of stopping to see the snow fall in the woods the day of the winter solstice. There are hints of some dark yet wonderful desire to remain in the woods forever, but as the narrator mentions, he has obligations and a long distance to his destination. There is the possibility of a hidden depression, or a lacking of the simple beautiful things in the world, to the point that one may even come to the conclusion that the narrator is potentially suicidal and wishes to stop and die in the forest, but he is more dedicated to his obligations.
The Man He Killed-Thomas Hardy
The narrator is reflecting on when he killed a man in war. This poem shows that war is people dying for some cause they are not entirely devoted to, but join out of necessity, and therefore kill and are killed. The narrator shows a suppressed guilt, and he speaks of how in another time they would have become acquaintances. It shows that war is the breaking of possible bonds.
Sonnet 55-William Shakespeare
The narrator is addressing his lover, and how his poem to said lover will last forever, but that his lover’s beauty and majesty is beyond what he has written. He says that his lover’s memory will outlive death, and reach out past the end of the world. As I read this, I wonder; it is certainly a lyrical poem, but could it not also be considered narrative? After all, this is the story of how his love’s memory shall endure forever.
Two Hangovers-James Wright
The narrator has no rhyme pattern, but it has a certain fluidity to it, one that I cannot quite explain. It is obviously telling a story, making it narrative. The narrator wakes up after being drunk, and feels plagued by his environment at the time. In his frustration, he returns to sleep and reawakens to be pleased by a blue jay enjoying itself on a branch outside his window.
Because I Would Not Stop For Death- Emily Dickinson
Miss Dickinson was moderately obsessed with death poems from what I know, and this is one of her more famous poems. She speaks of dying and of Death as being not the state or happening, but rather a character or figure. She says that she is being brought to immortality by the absolution of her mortality. In the final Stanza, she comments that all the time since one day seems shorter than that one day, because it is the day she realized she was being brought to eternity.
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening- Robert Frost
First and foremost, I read this poem in sixth grade during a study island assignment. The narrator speaks of stopping to see the snow fall in the woods the day of the winter solstice. There are hints of some dark yet wonderful desire to remain in the woods forever, but as the narrator mentions, he has obligations and a long distance to his destination. There is the possibility of a hidden depression, or a lacking of the simple beautiful things in the world, to the point that one may even come to the conclusion that the narrator is potentially suicidal and wishes to stop and die in the forest, but he is more dedicated to his obligations.
The Man He Killed-Thomas Hardy
The narrator is reflecting on when he killed a man in war. This poem shows that war is people dying for some cause they are not entirely devoted to, but join out of necessity, and therefore kill and are killed. The narrator shows a suppressed guilt, and he speaks of how in another time they would have become acquaintances. It shows that war is the breaking of possible bonds.
Sonnet 55-William Shakespeare
The narrator is addressing his lover, and how his poem to said lover will last forever, but that his lover’s beauty and majesty is beyond what he has written. He says that his lover’s memory will outlive death, and reach out past the end of the world. As I read this, I wonder; it is certainly a lyrical poem, but could it not also be considered narrative? After all, this is the story of how his love’s memory shall endure forever.
Two Hangovers-James Wright
The narrator has no rhyme pattern, but it has a certain fluidity to it, one that I cannot quite explain. It is obviously telling a story, making it narrative. The narrator wakes up after being drunk, and feels plagued by his environment at the time. In his frustration, he returns to sleep and reawakens to be pleased by a blue jay enjoying itself on a branch outside his window.
A Farewell
Dear Mr. Schrader:
I know I only joined last year, I know I do not nearly have the personal connection with you that the rest of my peers have, but I'm going to miss you. I know you make fun of me behind my back, I know I'm a klutz, I know I have done some really stupid things; but I hope I left an eventual positive impression with you. I'm sorry; I'm sorry for being retarded and causing more stress for you, I'm sorry for almost ruining that concert last year, I'm sorry for always dropping the instruments, I'm sorry for getting angry and frustrated and extra crazy at games. I never formally apologized, and after you leave I may never get the chance. Thank you for everything you have done for all of us. You are by far one of the most amazing mentors I have ever met, even though you were not my mentor. I'm glad you have made this decision; it is far better for you to stop being such an amazing influence on us to continue being the wonderful force you are for others than it is for you to stay here and die within the decade from overbearing stress. I'll miss you, your jokes, saying "Schrader's mother!" at the cadence halts, your methods, the way you could even teach someone with the experience of a sixth grader to play the songs this band plays as decently as I do. Remember when you wore the Callahan Auto Parts shirt at band camp and put your hair in the dyke spike to mimic Seb? It's sad that it has to be this way; I think I can tell that your heart is here, with these kids, these mentored youth who love you so much; but it is because of this love that we welcome your leave. I felt too selfish to cry, too weak to cave in when you told us. I know I don't know you as well as the rest of my friends and peers who were crying. Then I realized why I cried; it wasn't because I am losing a friend, it is because of the pressing circumstance you are in, an how this unfair situation is going to break over two hundred relationships. Please know that I am not angry at you, I do not hate you, and I do not wish for you to change your mind if it means putting your life in jeopardy. Among all this, I realize something vital; every student who has had the joyous opportunity to know you and learn from you must not quit band. We have to remain and keep this alive, we must stay in not only for ourselves, not only for this school which threw us into the morgue, but for you. I will remain in band, even though I am a weak member, because if we quit, if we give up, then everything has been done in vain, and we must not allow for that to happen.
This may sound creepy, but I love you; I love you for the role you play, I love you for what you have done, I love you for being the motivating, inspiring, caring man you are, and I know that many others love you too.
I'll try and remember to "beam down" for you,
Robert Wilt
I know I only joined last year, I know I do not nearly have the personal connection with you that the rest of my peers have, but I'm going to miss you. I know you make fun of me behind my back, I know I'm a klutz, I know I have done some really stupid things; but I hope I left an eventual positive impression with you. I'm sorry; I'm sorry for being retarded and causing more stress for you, I'm sorry for almost ruining that concert last year, I'm sorry for always dropping the instruments, I'm sorry for getting angry and frustrated and extra crazy at games. I never formally apologized, and after you leave I may never get the chance. Thank you for everything you have done for all of us. You are by far one of the most amazing mentors I have ever met, even though you were not my mentor. I'm glad you have made this decision; it is far better for you to stop being such an amazing influence on us to continue being the wonderful force you are for others than it is for you to stay here and die within the decade from overbearing stress. I'll miss you, your jokes, saying "Schrader's mother!" at the cadence halts, your methods, the way you could even teach someone with the experience of a sixth grader to play the songs this band plays as decently as I do. Remember when you wore the Callahan Auto Parts shirt at band camp and put your hair in the dyke spike to mimic Seb? It's sad that it has to be this way; I think I can tell that your heart is here, with these kids, these mentored youth who love you so much; but it is because of this love that we welcome your leave. I felt too selfish to cry, too weak to cave in when you told us. I know I don't know you as well as the rest of my friends and peers who were crying. Then I realized why I cried; it wasn't because I am losing a friend, it is because of the pressing circumstance you are in, an how this unfair situation is going to break over two hundred relationships. Please know that I am not angry at you, I do not hate you, and I do not wish for you to change your mind if it means putting your life in jeopardy. Among all this, I realize something vital; every student who has had the joyous opportunity to know you and learn from you must not quit band. We have to remain and keep this alive, we must stay in not only for ourselves, not only for this school which threw us into the morgue, but for you. I will remain in band, even though I am a weak member, because if we quit, if we give up, then everything has been done in vain, and we must not allow for that to happen.
This may sound creepy, but I love you; I love you for the role you play, I love you for what you have done, I love you for being the motivating, inspiring, caring man you are, and I know that many others love you too.
I'll try and remember to "beam down" for you,
Robert Wilt
Saturday, January 19, 2013
To my Little Bear, Artemis, and to my Dark Angel
"And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had"
I know that you know I'm still madly in love with you. I know that you know I always will be. I weep for what I've lost, for what I broke. And now, now I'm stuck. I'm in love with you Artemis, but I'm also in love with my Dark Angel. I know I can never have you again, and it may be best for me to leave you out of my life forever; but I cannot do that either. I can't lose you; not in any way. I just, I just want to... I don't know what I want anymore. I want everything and nothing. I'm dying little one, I'm dying and I can't stop. I'm sorry; to both of you. I... I just don't know... I'm dying, dying into infinity.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Who I Am
Many think I'm some great bearing fortress capable of bearing immense amounts of stress, and this I am. I bear great weights every day, and it is a mystery how I can even get out of bed. But I'm not invincible. I'm not incapable of weeping in public uncontrollably when
I see the worry in someone's eyes for me, when the voice of a peer beckons me to welcome her embrace, when I feel the pain of over a hundred relationships breaking, and then imagining all the broken bonds across the world. I'm not incapable of secluding myself in a dark corner of an auditorium and crying softly while companions try to get their minds off the pressing circumstance by playing hide-and-seek in the dark. I'm not incapable of shedding tears even as I type this now. I have been holding up tons of weight, and I've disassociated my emotion to someone who was once a very close friend, and if she ever reads this, know how truly sorry I am for what I can never take back. I cry. I feel. I yearn with a killing desire to stop the pain. Every tear shed that I see makes me feel every tear shed ever. Every time I apologize, oh my god I'm so sorry im sorry for everything for damaging property and damaging relationships and failing relationships and misbehaving and coming between people and for being an idiot and making people afraid and for apologizing too. I'm sorry for every apology anyone has ever made, every mistake ever made. I'm sorry for all the burned bridges of history, all the broken loves of time. I'm sorry i'll never be happy again, i'm sorry i can't forget the past, i'm sorry i'm in love with others, i'm sorry nothing will ever make up for it. i'm sorry i'm--- i'm depressed. i'm dying. but i'm caught in the middle.
I see the worry in someone's eyes for me, when the voice of a peer beckons me to welcome her embrace, when I feel the pain of over a hundred relationships breaking, and then imagining all the broken bonds across the world. I'm not incapable of secluding myself in a dark corner of an auditorium and crying softly while companions try to get their minds off the pressing circumstance by playing hide-and-seek in the dark. I'm not incapable of shedding tears even as I type this now. I have been holding up tons of weight, and I've disassociated my emotion to someone who was once a very close friend, and if she ever reads this, know how truly sorry I am for what I can never take back. I cry. I feel. I yearn with a killing desire to stop the pain. Every tear shed that I see makes me feel every tear shed ever. Every time I apologize, oh my god I'm so sorry im sorry for everything for damaging property and damaging relationships and failing relationships and misbehaving and coming between people and for being an idiot and making people afraid and for apologizing too. I'm sorry for every apology anyone has ever made, every mistake ever made. I'm sorry for all the burned bridges of history, all the broken loves of time. I'm sorry i'll never be happy again, i'm sorry i can't forget the past, i'm sorry i'm in love with others, i'm sorry nothing will ever make up for it. i'm sorry i'm--- i'm depressed. i'm dying. but i'm caught in the middle.
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