Zeal_37mm's blog

Woah.
Woah woah woah.
Step back now, man. Take a deep breath. That's right. Breathe- in, out. In, out. Something familiar- right? Something that you've been doing all your life. Okay. Now close your eyes... that's right. Nice and tight; just like that. No, I don't know what those bright glowing dots are... but they don't matter. Right now you're in your happy place. Your secret cave with your soul animal. That's right...
Now.

From Creative Writing Class, '08.

The art of reading lips
A cacophony of movement-
Translucent moon moths…
Tender Tolype Velleda.

A cacophony of moment-
Twisting, flaunting- meek.
Tender Tolype Velleda,
Soft breath, calm wind.

Twisting, flaunting- meek.
A silhouetted blank stare,
Soft breath, calm wind.
An importance of managed time.

A silhouetted blank stare
From across the peat colored room-
An importance of managed time,
Between the lenses of a telescope.

From across the peat colored room-
A smile imprinted on a pane of frosty glass
Between the lenses of a telescope…
I can see the mirrors.

A smile imprinted on a pane of frost glass
Leftover from the wintry night.
I can see the mirrors-
Fragile and complex, difficult.

Leftover from the wintry night
Translucent moon moths…
Fragile and complex, difficult-
The art of reading lips.

I have been touched
By an embodied revolution
Shining beacons into this
Endless night.
I have been moved by
Visions of children with
No shoes and women dieing
From loss of food. This, right now
Is the start of a new dedication
A new simulation; a praise to
Humanity and a call to arms.

Tonight and every night I have
Witnessed the bowing of entities
Beings of higher power to the will
Of the masses, to secure we will
Listen and take heed of the power
We all need to succeed and the interest
Gathering dust on a far shelf is
In due time, our ransom money
For our minds.

As they say
“There is a war going on for your mind.”

----Keep Reading

Revised and edited.
---

I’ve got a jar of eye balls in my room. All of them are beautiful- all the eyes I collected in my adventurous twenty years. All of them have stories behind them, the pretty little green ones I got after a wild night in a club (she’ll never know what happened to them); the rare hazel ones I picked up at the grocery store (I’m pretty sure his girlfriend won’t notice). I like to sit at my table and take them all out, count them, clean them. I take very good care of them.

Out of all the eyes I own, there is one pair that is my favorite. Icy blue and freezing cold, they watch every move I make from the shelf above my dresser. I can tell they don’t like being in that jar with everyone else; but I can’t find a proper jar for them. Every time I walk into the room, they turn towards me and follow me- screaming “Get me out of here. I don’t like these people.”

Music pumping, glow sticks glowing
Everyone! On the dance floor- dancing.
The air tastes like sugar; like the candy
Melting in my mouth as I’m the lead dandy.
We’re a small group- a hundred strong-
Yet we guarantee we can party all night long!
Longer than the suits and gowns
Down the street with formal flowers… throw it down!
We, in our slacks skirts torn up pants
Tube tops corsets that old base ball cap-
White fedoras suspenders fishnets blue jeans-
As varied as all the birds that sing!
My sisters, My brothers, my inbetweens!
All dancing, gyrating on this dance scene.
We’re free, this is free, we’ll take it out
On the streets.
Our candy love
Our sugar cane word
Our own, open chest world.
Oh! The Sisters and The Brothers and The Inbetweens!
We’ll dance through this hall, through this city, through this town-
We’ll dance through the world… we’ll dance out loud!

Now the snow is gone.
Made in China plastic bags
Candy Wrappers
Bottle caps waiting to choke something.
Dirt, rocks, dead grass
Dead/living trees with
No more snow to make them enchanted.

Broken racket balls
Like fake gems
Poptart wrappers
Reflecting the spring sun.

Smells of murdered grass
Molding moss
And cologne.

Trees marked for execution
Flowers making first and final stands
Charred caterpillars from
Children’s games.

Now the snow is gone.
And it’s time
For the paid workers
To clean up after us.

Written for my Creative Writing class. 2nd draft.
---

I’ve got a jar of eye balls in my room. All of them are beautiful- all the eyes I collected in my adventurous twenty years. All of them have stories behind them, the pretty little green ones I got after a wild night in a club (she’ll never know what happened to them); the rare hazel ones I picked up at the grocery store (I’m pretty sure his girlfriend won’t notice). I like to sit at my table and take them all out, count them clean them. I take good care of them.

Out of all the eyes I own, there is one pair that is my favorite. Icy blue and freezing cold, they watch every move I make from the shelf above my dresser. I can tell they don’t like being in that jar with everyone else, but I can’t find a proper jar for them. Every time I walk into the room, they turn towards me and follow me- screaming “Get me out of here. I don’t like these people.”

“I’m working on it.” I say every day. “I need to find a proper jar. Something pretty- something strong…”

“Well hurry up.”

Every day when I go to work I stop by a glass shop. I always ask when they get their next shipment of bell jars in, and the lady behind the counter laughs and shakes her head.

“Whenever the blowers decide to make more.” Defeated, I continue to work.
Sitting at my desk I stare at the screen full of words and lights. I calculate the life expectancies of people for other institutions. It’s an easy equation, but it’s the collecting of the data that is so time consuming. My thoughts strayed back to the jar of eyes I had collected, the smaller blue ones of the fifteen year old who had followed me through the mall. Or the pretty gray ones I picked up at the fair one year. Or the-

“Hey. You listening?” I snap out of my day dreams and look up. Staring at me are two icy blue eyes, cold and fleeting; I gasp and stand up.

Dude, where's all the snow? D=
They said there was going to be a storm today! *sob*
----
I see nothing outside my window.
December and no snow on the ground.
Where's the swirling white I crave?
Where's the white fluff in which I love to hate?
All I see is chipper winds and tall dead trees,
Without the cushion of green thirving leaves.
I want the white and bitter cold,

I close my eyes and rest the pain throbbing, pounding.
Nothing else is quite as sweet as slipping away in between old sheets and blankets...
I open my eyes again to soaring whales of blue in skies of green.
He's waiting there again, and he smiles seduction
And speaks beautiful melancholy until I follow him.
I try my best to ignore the cheap two cent words-

The sun has finally broken through the sky of gray, illuminating the world with deep orange and red colors. Finally, I can look out the window and say "Today is a beautiful day- even though it is almost over.” Bare branches of leafless trees reach out and touch each other, grasping for the warm embrace of the suns rays as it descends.

As some people know, I frequent online forums alot. While I was browsing one of the couple I still attend, I came across a profile that shocked me a little.

Very rough, very un-gramarical, and sorta mature... and very very confusing. Be warned.
---

I want to tell a story.
It's not my story it's not your story. It's not anyones story.
Yet I will tell it.

Invisible. That is what I call it, this state I am in. Even though I am not what you would call 'invisible'.

They hold a breath and they let one go peacefully
Falling to ground just like snow.
There the one gathers them all to a mystery;
Nothing can come, nothing can go.
Here in the garden Eve takes an apple and
Romeo's the man on the stage.
He holds a gun and Juliet digs her grave again
Singing a song to the crow.
A girl earns her angel wings that melt all too suddenly

I've got five dollars and a bucket full of ice
Working on preserving all that I deem right.
I say
I'm going to be
God Of The New World
And keep all the doors locked tight
On nightmares and darker lights.

I've seen four murders and half dead police
Telling me to say what I have seen.
I say
I'm going to be
God Of The New World
And weed out the unworthy and talk high

Something I wrote in a random AIM chat.
For cereal. ;D
---
The wingless seven hold nothing to fate
As the wind rises and carries them away.
The wingless seven
Envy the weightless eight.
Who can fly any time
And need not bind themselves to wanton wind.
The weightless eight
Claim to be Gods.
And the wingless seven bow
Revealing tender necks.
The wingless seven now feel no wind.

A poem I wrote for class last year, the topic was write something in first person narritave as a slave in the south.
---
Masters whip is cold and malicious
It comes down fast and makes me think I’m falling
Cascading like a silver axe
Onto the black wood backs of my people
Masters whip is cold and unforgiving
With joyful echoes it lashes out
Slipping over flesh like a snake over water

I figured this would be a good way to show my love for Spidey, what with the new movie coming out and such. This was an essay I wrote for a class, the topic was to write about a hero.
---

From the author: Okay, before you read this let me say this:
Yes, it's about two guys. Relationships to me are not so much about the people but the relationship itself. If you're uncomfortable with that, do NOT read on. If you're OK with that, read on. I promise it is a good story. It's full of all that good old fluff and sappy stuff.

--------

“Emile?”

Virginia Gunman Identified as a Student - Cho Seung-Hui, who killed 32 people and himself yesterday, had caused deep concern among some of his teachers at Virginia Tech. [

In music man finds his
Center
In man music finds its
Creator
As is a mother and child
Music and Man
Are one
In each other

From mind to paper
(or to instrument)
Music finds it way to the
Center
Of the man; its
Creator
As is God and his Angels
Music and Man
Are one
In each other

I wake up to early for the good of my mental health.
I work to late for the good of my body.
Anything, to keep up with the flood of bills coming through…
The open mailbox.
Things keep breaking; I raise just all the earlier to fix them.
Cows need feeding; I stay up even later to get them their hay.
Everything I do, I do not do for you
Dumping the precious white gold I gather and sell.

Our life is just a drag.
There’s no spice,
There’s nothing behind it.
We dance our lives away,
It’s a scare,
How we don’t seem to care.
We just love and waste away,
Ignoring,
Placing no bets and not wining anything.
When we fall away,
We just say,
Yeah we say
“Get over it.”
Yeah, we just say
“Get over it.”
---

I could wish upon a shooting star and listen to the wind blow it to the gods.
I could wait upon a distant hill, and count the hours chasing cars.
I could catch a butterfly by its wings and listen to it scream.
I could catch my breath and stop to watch everything.
Simplicity is not meant for the simplest of minds.
Complexity is meant for us, who live our life by time

Beautiful Snow White

Simple contouring lines of a simply drawn face.
Dimmed thanks to a crystalline cover,
Surrounded by roses, posies, never fading in color
As time slowly passes.
A soft breath, so small, so light you cannot even see
Her chest moving.
Black hair, red lips skin so white it glistens.
Snow White, Snow White,
Beauty never fading...
Waiting...

This nightmare is a nothing,
From a dream written by a pen
In the hands of a writer suffering from God-Given coma.
Dreaming of oblivion
And empty hallways (juggernauts hidden behind doors)

You are a God on a pedestal
“Do Not Touch”
For you will crumble away to some
Blushing Goddess or Nymph
Spending the night whispering
Sweet nothings outfitted with thorns
And Seeds.

I heard church bells tell us when to weep
Crawling on hard wood floors under the barren urban stars
Too bad we can see them, with all the lights out after hours of staring.
We have nothing left to do before the moon starts moving to the sun.

I was walking on this rock beach at Lake Champlain... and I started finding shells.
But all I could find where broken ones... and we found an awesome piece of drift wood..
anyway.
I hope it's okay.

"It’s too cold to go outside,"
They said, wrapping us in blankets
As they hustled
And bustled about
While together we both lay
Exchanging mischievous
Grins like trinkets.
Later, when they thought us asleep,

‘It’s too cold to go outside;’
They said, wrapping us in blankets.
They hustle and bustle while together we both lied,
Exchanging mischievous grins like trinkets.
Later that night when they thought us asleep,