I am reading this, now, at Penguin Plays Rough on the 15th of February, at about 9:13pm. I am sitting on a red velvet chair which I will now look at, pat, and then look up at you and smile in an attempt to 1: Establish a relationship between my reader self, and your audience self, and 2: Portray the impression of a spontaneous action confirming the accuracy of my erstwhile assumption.
Look at the red velvet chair, pat it, then look up at the audience and smile
I, Grant, am writing this sporadically on the 18th of January from 11pm to some currently unknown time. I have been distracted a few times and have made myself a peanut butter and bu
I once dreamt of mistletoe and sandalwood
I once slept with lavender and thyme
And though the world forgot the roses long before our noses faltered
I still dream of rain and trees and wine
Memories of paint and white and murder
Fingers clawed and circles were the ties
Hanging ducks from barber hooks and city walks with capeward looks
I remember eyes and 1-5
Study breaks and coffee for a past-time
Meeting friends you thought that I should date
Telling them Im flirting when Im pretending that Im not
I tried forgetting Skype and Calls at 8
I now dream of storms and clouds and lightning
I now sleep in beds with shee
Smiles is the longest word by tnargwoxow, literature
Literature
Smiles is the longest word
The shadow of the day
Across the field crept quick
And sun set Lights on
And light licked Bush thick
Patchwork patterns soon appear
Across the canvas, green to grey
Moonlight Mist soon sets in
Burning daylight slips away
Wolf howl echoes lick shivring legs
Cowered faces hind hammered pegs
Camping stories and light lit laughs
Sleeping smiles neath moonlight baths
Birdsong wakes the sleeping child
Time tells on faces old with care
Death rings its chime once more for day
Once more, and all light slips away
Though dreaming paths are memory lanes
And roads become dead ends, know this
The stream lay before her
A gentle hand goading her on
Singing it's songs of mountains
Of snow
Of dreams
I remember,
I remember when she was young,
When I sung this song to my child,
To my child,
How she wept and smiled,
The summer breeze, playing with her hair
Golden glints,
Everywhere
I see her sometimes,
In my mind,
When I shut my eyes, and smile
At worm wood
and tree roots
I scuff my boots against the dirt
Dark dust clouds rise and settle
Leaving me to set my clock for tomorrow
With a water basin
And cloth draped across the edge
Cloth draped across th....
I once wiped away her tears
A boar dashed out of the folia
As Time ticks by, card houses fall
Till time nolonger, ticks at all
I think I gave up meaning
I think I lost my place
When I felt the gleaming touch of fate
Play poker on your face
I'm aftraid the cards weren't shuffled
I fear the bottle bent
When I flipped the coin I didn't think
To check the other head
Instead I asked,
Will you raise the sails for me
Will you fight the ocean spray
Or will you lie here by my side
And let the fire slip away
Will you take my hand in habit
And be one with ages old
Or will you plant your roots in craggy caves
Till time removes the mold
It's time
A clock now ticks up on a wall which up till no
She stood there at the starting gate
I stood there at the end
Faces set like walls of brick
Our knees began to bend
Heads toward the ground, our eyes
Were lined up steady straight
Movements quick to hide the fact
Our legs began to shake
With a roar the gun went off
And lions were at our heel
With quickening feet, And pumping breath
Around the track we steal
People turn to coloured blur
And with a yell we run
A million miles and more have past
Since they pulled the starting gun
A heart-torn line
A checkered flag
A waving hand
A fresh blue tag
Though I stood still
As she ran past
I know my heart
Beat twice as fast
Have you ever been a rainy day by tnargwoxow, literature
Literature
Have you ever been a rainy day
Have you ever felt a rainy day
Magic dancing on your hands
Have you ever smelt a rainy day
Where dashing drops pound pavement plans
Have you ever heard a rainy day
Gentle drips to drown your fears
Have you ever been a rainy day
Where raindrops replace falling tears
Ghost Steps on the Lilybed by tnargwoxow, literature
Literature
Ghost Steps on the Lilybed
Windchime laughs
And wetted feet
Step out upon the lily bed
As gliding leaves brush left and right
Until footsteps will splash instead
A milk white foot
Stretched playfully
To place itself upon the stream
As broken words, from broken hearts
Try to break the walkers dream
The leg then takes
Another step
It seems the leaf, could learn to stay
A timeless second passes
Till the leaf begins to sway
The child now blessed
From waters kiss
Proud she takes her first last steps
Then plunges through the lily pond
And lies there in its murky depths
Red eyes
Tear stains
Handkerchiefs
As present turns to memory
Two feet once marked
I am reading this, now, at Penguin Plays Rough on the 15th of February, at about 9:13pm. I am sitting on a red velvet chair which I will now look at, pat, and then look up at you and smile in an attempt to 1: Establish a relationship between my reader self, and your audience self, and 2: Portray the impression of a spontaneous action confirming the accuracy of my erstwhile assumption.
Look at the red velvet chair, pat it, then look up at the audience and smile
I, Grant, am writing this sporadically on the 18th of January from 11pm to some currently unknown time. I have been distracted a few times and have made myself a peanut butter and bu
Your face drifts out
A sea of white
My hand it reaches
For your hair
But the face
Was just the night
My hand it touched but air
I see your arm
In willow trees
My lips reach out
To where you stood
But your arm
Was just the breeze
My lips touch nought but frozen wood
Your heart I hear
In midnight storm
I close my eyes in prayer
But the rythmic pound
Is thunder
Your heartbeat isn't there
I imagined dreams were real
And in sleeping I saw doves
I imagined I could feel
The soft hands of my love
And so it was, each night repeated
As I tried to wash out her sweet taste
I cried all day but at night treated
Myself a glimpse u
Suffering
As her fingers, like cold glass bottles
Grip violently to her saviour and freedom
The power of the man above
Breaks through the grip that she has
On all that is real and true
The meaning of her pain
The freedom of the flesh
What life comes after
Her cold body has passed into the hard ground
The meaning of the mirrors
Reflecting back her psychedelic image
That she has created
Through clever trickery
In an attempt to avoid
Confrontation
Avoidance
Of what is to come
Of what has happened
Remembering what was and what will be
As though they are the same thing
The same time
Like the present
Entwined together in a ba
Drugs, The death of the mind by tnargwoxow, literature
Literature
Drugs, The death of the mind
The thoughts come
And go
Like so much rain
Comes through and washes out
Leaving nothing
No-one
Where everything
And Every-one
Once stood
Once breathed and lived
Nothing
The rigormortis of the mind
Sets in
Freezing the thoughts
Freezing the brain
Nothing comes through
A drought of thought
Heat doesn't come with this drought
Just coldness
Emptiness
Nothingness
The lack
Of pain is good?
But the lack of self
The lack of thought
The lack
Is bad?
What defines bad?
What defines good?
What is a definition?
But a thought
That is created first in the mind
Without the mind though
The thought does not come
Or is confused
Broken
The man lies
Like a childs toy soldier
Final poise
For satisfaction
Achieved
Through the use of wood and plastic
Arranged cleverly
To create
The final product
The perfect
Joke
The wood bent
Plastic snapped
Thrown about randomly
Like modern art
Falling on the hard wood ground
Closing the doors to the future
Holding only the past
The old image
The perfect
Broken
Toy
When the world ends
I'll catch the fallen angels
In a red-glass bottle
Their singing voices will ring
From inside their prison
Of coloured perspex
When the world ends
I'll drop the bottle to the ground
And watch as your soul smashes
And when the voices die
And the bars break
I shall watch as the shattered pieces
Of glass the colour of blood
Litter the floor
And then I shall call you
Barefooted you shall run
Along the shattered fragments
Of my mind
And you will be torn
As I was
When the world ends
I fall and am caught
By the strings
Of my mind
Lassoes
Fibrous leashes
I am held
In blissful
Nothing
Floating
Hanging
Untouched I sway
*SNAP*
Unleashed
Falling from my limbo
Brushes
Brambles
Torn and tossed
Limbs disjointed
- A ragdoll
Strewn on a sullen landscape
An imagined reality
I feel my broken self crawling together
Reshaping
Reforming
*CRACK*
And again
Hit by shockwaves
Of my fall
Snapped string
Curls around my flailing body
Binding me
To myself
Finally
I am broken free
Strings
Tear from my soul
Leaving crying holes
Bleeding pores
Scarred skin heals
Burst blisters
Wrapped in bandages
I see myse
..
last night I made a man
out of pillows and forgotten
fragments of clothes
we'd pushed into my drawers.
I held my pillow-man's hand
and made sure he wasn't too warm
because it is summer;
I'm on the second floor;
and that was always your
biggest complaint.
this morning I tried to shower
but would turn off the water and run
like a soapy dog, complete with
loyal tail wagging, to the door
thinking you'd come knocking.
You hadn't.
tomorrow will taste like
the food of a week ago
and I'll wear sunglasses,
which, if you know me,
(and you do)
will seem out of context
and like a little girl
playing dress up.
I know there are
Love, Hate, Want, Need by Mental-Mishap, literature
Literature
Love, Hate, Want, Need
Sometimes I love you like a child.
Adoring eyes,
Breathing in your every word.
I couldnt fault you
Even if I tried.
Sometimes I hate you like a cynic.
Disdainful glance,
Despairing in the silences.
I convince myself
I dont need you.
Sometimes I like you as a friend.
Laughing smiles,
Jokes and taunts are all in good fun.
I dance with you
And have the time of my life.
Sometimes I want you like a whore.
Ripping at clothes,
Letting that heady feeling win me over.
Your kisses and touches
Take me away.
Sometimes I need you like a newborn.
Crying out,
Paralysed in the dark.
Im alone and unworthy
Without you.
Stumbling in the dark,
Shadows mar your eyes.
Each foot that finds the ground
Takes you by surprise.
Angel wings lie broken,
Hope begins to fade...
Your thoughts remain unspoken
As you stagger through the haze.
Fading, falling memories
Lock you up inside.
Jars of empty remedies
Give way to empty lies.
Shining spark of madness,
Silver slice of pain,
Wraps you up in sadness
And leaves your life to wane.
A fading shadow falls
Where sunlight once belonged.
Your voice, it softly calls
But no one hears your song.
Searching for a place
To guard and call your own.
Just waiting for a face
To teach you to be strong.
A face looke
Is it all but a lovely dream,
Patented and sold for gold?
Is it all but what it seems,
Or differs from what's told?
I asked the cobber down the lane,
The day, and he replied the time
He was the loner who had no name
Living in the street of no sign
A line of a smile, the twist in a frown
I'd say, it's the loving in her eyes
The shape of her breasts, curve of her thighs
Lovers can't tell, tis truths or lies
Sparks from the sidelines, henchmen, flew
Hands, unworthy, run down the sides
She's biting her lips for blood, stop the tears
In the darkness her dignity hides
Oh the unforgiving, feels so cold and bare
Dirty whispers upon h
I.
how do you write about
the things you've never seen?
as if bicycles and babies and laughing grandmothers
could heal the hearts of the wasted.
i have been wasting away, just
waiting for you.
I'd love to watch you
drinking water from a fountain
in the stale air of summer
on a boardwalk somewhere
anywhere
because your laugh transcends sound barriers
that don't even exist
and everytime i hear the Atlantic, it is
screaming your name.
everyone wants to be in you.
but i would walk to your
words
let you show me the
rhythm
of a song about contentment
that i've never heard
and you don't even know it
but God picked up a paintb
I want to discover love with you,
I want to learn playing the piano with you,
I want to take silly photos with you,
I want to cry on your shoulder when watching a sad love story with you,
I want to have midnight feasts with you,
I want to cuddle up and sleep in bed with you,
I want to wake up and exchange morning smiles with you,
I want to stay up late and whisper secrets with you,
I want to hear and share bedtime stories with you,
I want to travel and explore the world with you,
I want to roll around in the sand with you,
I want to climb a mountain with you,
I want to play on a swing with you,
I want to go down a slide with you,
Black winter, sweet dreams,
Raindrops leading an untraceable beat,
Falling silently to create a
Melody; dissonant, free, unshackled
From beauty.
To judge us upon our qualities,
Perfection as the priority.
Wriggling, mingling, a corrosive worm
Preying hungrily – chewing gleefully
While the crimson string tears unwillingly
to disappear when rose petals explode subtly
like colourless, odourless acid rain
landing as magenta stains,
moist disgustingly.
Black winter, sweet dreams,
The inadequate winter with her summer heat.
Mushy dirt, primitive softness,
Decaying leaves from a bare and desolate tree.
I lay carelessly,
Tumbli
It's called falling in love
Because pin-wheeling arms can't reverse it.
Slow motion rush,
You watch yourself freefall,
You'll tear your hands up on thorns
And branches,
Just trying to stop.
It's called falling in love
Because it's exhilarating,
And frightening.
Love is like adrenalin,
And we're all a little addicted.
So we make the jump,
Thrill seekers,
Too often forgetting a parachute.
It's called falling in love
Because it's not always pretty.
It's not a graceful swan dive,
Its not planned and carried out
With precision movements.
Even if the air is clear up there,
Even if the view is beautiful,
You're breathless
Here my mind wanders again
Rambling brambled pathways
Honeysuckle scented summer days
And snow globe landscapes of flawless white,
Perfect places and perfect people,
Carved from sugared concoctions,
Lifted from pages and silver screens
A paradise where even I am perfect.
So I feel the pangs of regret often
And find the days pass lifelessly,
The world around me is less real,
Hazy: I am the sleepwalker,
I have so often passed the time for working
In strawberry fields and shopping malls
The labyrinth corridors and halls
Of my imagination.
I thought of someone there with me
Laying side by side as the clouds went by
Lau
The stream lay before her
A gentle hand goading her on
Singing it's songs of mountains
Of snow
Of dreams
I remember,
I remember when she was young,
When I sung this song to my child,
To my child,
How she wept and smiled,
The summer breeze, playing with her hair
Golden glints,
Everywhere
I see her sometimes,
In my mind,
When I shut my eyes, and smile
At worm wood
and tree roots
I scuff my boots against the dirt
Dark dust clouds rise and settle
Leaving me to set my clock for tomorrow
With a water basin
And cloth draped across the edge
Cloth draped across th....
I once wiped away her tears
A boar dashed out of the folia
Sydney
Date: Sunday November 19th
Time: 2pm to 5.30pm
Location: 14 Gladys Ave, Frenchs Forest
Cost: $25pp ($15 with a valid concession card)
http://www.cuddlepartyoz.com/
Go there for info
A HUG PARTY!!!!!!!
I got bored so cut out alot of them. I need to stop procrastinating...
1. 3 grade teacher's name:
Mrs Amos I think
2. Last words you said to your dad?
"Yep" In regards to studying
3.Last movie you watched:
'Sliding Doors' with Sacliliad
4. Last person you hugged:
Lauren
5. Last thing you laughed at:
I don't remember...
(ok it just changed, I laughed at the next question)
6. Last time you said I don't remember:
Hehe
7. Last time you cried:
Yesterday around... 9-10ish. But only a tiny bit :( I WANT TO CRY MORE!
8. What song are you listening to?
None
9. What color socks are you wearing?
white
10. What's under your bed:
Floo
1001 page views! So proud, so so proud.
Hmm... something to say...
Winter air on summers wings
Sifting through the cracks and crags
On mountain tops where rocks and rags
Become to us, much greater things
I was about to spontaneously go up to the hairdressers and chop of all of my hair (well, style it, really Shortishly...) when my keycard broke in my pocket.... Coincidence?
I'm going up to the shops anyway, not sure what I'm going to do.
Haha - Just got your message
But you DID style it short which is good - Maybe the keycard breaking in your pocket was a sign not to get it cut, or maybe it was a test to see how much you wanted it