Sunday, May 14, 2006

yeah, i'm still alive
It might surprise anyone who reads this that I still live and breathe. Well, not so much breathe, but I'm pretty sure that this state I'm in is considered living by most. And to mark the fact that I dug myself out of my grave; okay, no I'm still in my grave, but that's neither here nor there. Okay, enough ranting, I've got a Dickinson poem to share. Enjoy.
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Because that you are going
And never coming back
And I, however absolute,
May overlook your Track-

Because that Death is final,
However first it be,
This instant be suspended
Above Mortality-

Significance that each has lived
The other to detect
Discovery not God himself
Could now annihilate

Eternity, Presumption
The instant I perceive
That you, who were Existence
Yourself forgot to live-

The "Life that is" will then have been
A thing I never knew-
As Paradise fictitous
Until the Realm of you-

The "Life that is to be," to me-
A Residence too plain
Unless in my Redeemer's Face
I recognize your own-

Of Immortality who doubts
He may exchange with me
Curtailed by your obscuring Face
Of everything but He-

Of Heaven and Hell I also yield
The Right to reprehend
To whoso would commute this Face
For his less priceless Friend.

If "God is Love" as he admits
We think that he must be
Because he is a "jealous God"
He tells us certainly

If "All is possible with" him
As he besides concedes
He will refund us finally
Our confiscated Gods-

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Well, folks, that my offer to you. Holla if you feel like it. Maybe someday soon I'll pick up a pencil and add to my fanart. Until then, go read some Dickinson. She is cool. And root for the Spurs to win the NBA championship. Yeah, that's all. Be easy.
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Friday, December 9, 2005

My poetry
okay, it would appear that I have misplaced my Dickinson book and cannot offer you another brilliant piece by a talented woman until I find it (I think my floor ate it). So, instead, I bring you my poetry. Enjoy.
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tears could never do it justice, nothing ever could
weeping would do no good, nothing ever would
laughter- a cold, cruel echo that passes in the wind
giggles wouldn't settle it and chuckles wouldn't mend
fear would never frighten it or push it away
bravery crumbles to it, though the brave and stupid play
no matter how strong stands the tree, it too will see
the tree certainly is not stronger, so moves to infinite
the wealthy fall too, for there is no bargain to be made
forever is employed and shall never be delayed
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Yeah, so that's my writing style. A bit depressing, no? Tell me what you think. I'm going to bed (it's 5 in the morning)
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Thursday, November 17, 2005

Back to the poetry
For once it's not 4 in the morning, but it will be in ten minutes. Well, I'm gonna share with you lovely people another Dickinson poem. It's my second favorite one; I used to like saying it out loud to people randomly in conversations. It's hard to fit a poem this long in a regular conversation, so it had to be random when I did it. Enjoy it, please.

Again- his voice is at the door-
I feel the old Degree-
I hear him ask the servant
For such an one- as me-

I take a flower- as I go-
My face to justify-
He never saw me- in this life-
I might surprise his eye!

I cross the Hall with mingled steps-
I- silent- pass the door-
I look on all this world contains-
Just his face- nothing more!

We talk in careless- and in toss-
A kind of plummet strain-
Each- sounding- shyly-
Just- how- deep-
The other's one- had been-

We walk- I leave my Dog- at home-
A tender- thoughtful Moon
Goes with us- just a little way-
And- then- we are alone-

Alone- if Angels are "alone"-
First time they try the sky!
Alone- if those "veiled faces"- be-
We cannot count- on High!

I'd give- to live that hour- again-
The purple- in my Vein-
But He must count the drops- himself-
My price got every stain!


And that's it for this week's Dickinson poem. You know you love this poem! Hasta...
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