the cherith

A real gentleman, even if he loses everything he owns, must show no emotion. Money must be so far...

Wed, 28 Sep 2011 20:17:23 -0700

A real gentleman, even if he loses everything he owns, must show no emotion. Money must be so far beneath a gentleman that it is hardly worth troubling about.

-Dostoevsky

we are most alive in dreams

Wed, 28 Sep 2011 08:58:24 -0700

we are most alive in dreams:

wearemostaliveindreams:

s l e e p
i
n
g

d r e a m
i
n
g

drowning, in past lives
through reddening eyes
and my hands catch
star dust- vibrant colors
passing, beneath traffic signs
as dawn breaks,
its crown on a careless horizon

a reassurance of life
as i… d
r
o
p- abrupt
and jarring, like
teeth…

Dreams make whole, dreams turn black. Starry black, dripping with coal. Burning into the pit, away...

Wed, 17 Aug 2011 11:37:00 -0700

Dreams make whole, dreams turn black.

Starry black, dripping with coal.

Burning into the pit, away from law.

Into the honey dew of it’s hole.

Bending, not breaking, everything is together.

Around the dream, reading from its pages,

like a never ending scroll.

Around we go,

around, around, around the black

starry bowl.

Where it stops, none can troll.

We are depravity. In the fullest sense of the word, humans are depraved. Bothered by one another and...

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 17:53:00 -0700

We are depravity. In the fullest sense of the word, humans are depraved. Bothered by one another and call it tolerance. We drift to complacency and call it freedom. We grow bored of new things yet cherish every new piece of crap. We take on superstition and call it spiritualism. We slouch toward emptiness and call it full. We glide toward moralism and call it enough. We are obedient to laws that call us slaves while we look for rightness in corruption. We sit on truth and claim nothing is certain. We have no self control yet long for responsibility. We live only to look for ways to die when living is not what it seems. We buy without money and we take on dept when we convince ourselves we are not selfish. Imagine saying there is no sin when you are bound in depravity.

There’s a frozen sea within each of us. It’s a frozen sea because “it” has the potential...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 19:56:07 -0700

There’s a frozen sea within each of us. It’s a frozen sea because “it” has the potential to be active, yet it’s frozen by the worldly winter. A frozen sea is dull and damned on the surface. Does this remind you of anyone? One can see the frozen sea as a means to walk over and arrive on the other side. Although that may seem pliable, we ought to remember how well we sail when the winds of heart ache, struggle, persecution, and mistakes move our lives. What shall we do then? Break the frozen facade? I answer with the heat of the Son. Today He shall shine upon my soul. May it melt away my slick, simple, frost that kills the life in which it harbors. May He bring back from winter a genuine course to sail.

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 19:26:29 -0700

Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate… but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins.

The ways of God are through knowledge of sacrifice, Sacrifice hidden, becomes a legend in the...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 19:19:00 -0700

The ways of God are through knowledge of sacrifice,
Sacrifice hidden, becomes a legend in the heart-
And a tale that poetry portrays as the grandest price.
A deepened love of not one, nor two but thrice,
Given to slums- and now these vindictive scales can suffice.
The miss of this, results in the serpents hiss
given from love like a Judas kiss.

This melting face can see the wax, and you dear
sinner will greet a wicked hoax,
Or the chamber of an echoing pax.
There may not be grace in this place but pain
For the fallen fawn, only left to lie in this bloody shame.

Lost in the night… When the light fades away, I lower my...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 15:13:41 -0700

Lost in the night… When the light fades away, I lower my head, with hope that I am watched. Sleeping peacefully in houses, under the covers, under a safe roof. Cuddling, stretched out, flocked together. This self-deception of night. Often I am deceived by the night; it’s cold breath of rest and slumber. Unaware of who I am, who we are, replacing blindness for the cost of rest. Someone must be watching, although I am burdened by who. Who feeds us the nightmare of the night? How shall we awake from the night? Who is watching to make sure we awake? Often my head is lowered, yielding to the night. Lost in reflecting my actions, playing a role of self pity. Often I am comforted by the night. Often the night meets me during the day. When will I realize I am walking in the light. Yet, comforted by my night. Comfortable falling asleep at life, with everyone watching in their own night.

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the...

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 15:55:19 -0700

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, how’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

-DFW

This is what it means To be free, on fire Acting in movie scenes Playing the role of a...

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 12:27:08 -0700

This is what it means

To be free, on fire

Acting in movie scenes

Playing the role of a lire

Waking up

Talking myself into it

Pouring out my cup

Into the pit

Into the earth

Like a sick pig

Without worth

Like a broken twig

I know what I am

A broken boy

Open for exam

Played like a toy

I just can’t get it together

Peeling like an onion

Changing like the weather

Cut down by john Bunyan

I wanna drop dead

Turn into a ghost

Cuz of the thoughts in my head

And evils boast

It just gets worst from here

Blacking out

Hiding in my fear

Dried in my drought

Hindered from my curse

Crippled from love

Driving my own Hurst

A Wings clipped dove

The next step is bliss

Only for a second

Not even her kiss

Not even to be reckoned

I wish to sit beside you, In your darkest time- In your darkest...

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 11:05:00 -0700

I wish to sit beside you,

In your darkest time- In your darkest den.

You’ who are crowned with twisted thorns,

from twisted men.

I was staring at this beautiful girl today in cafe Vero. The...

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 19:44:28 -0700

I was staring at this beautiful girl today in cafe Vero. The atmosphere is actually brilliant. Smack dab in the middle of the Eugene of Oregon, covered by flush green trees and a Victorian style deck with matching fence, I captured her in perfect light. As the sun ran through the tall windows and on to her location, I picked up my pen to verbally illustrate what I was staring at. She noticed my stare and began to grow uncomfortable. Sipping the tea she bought, she walked over to me and said “do I know you?”- My reply was similar to an eleven year old boy,

“Umm, I don’t think so, I come here often, but haven’t seen you before.”

As she mermerd a huh’ she replied “what are you writing down?”

“just some free writing, I enjoy writing on my free time” I said, slowly growing into a seventeen year old embraced boy.

“Really? -She responded with excitement. I would love to see it, I enjoy writing myself.”

“Could this really be happening? Does this stuff happen in real life? I couldn’t help but ask myself these questions. This random girl’ confronts me and want’s to see what I’m writing down. (Little does she know who it’s about)

“Sure”, I slowly turn the journal to her direction and allow her to gaze over my writings…

“silk laundry milk dress drops to the floor. The sun rains in and gracefully reveals the glare of joy from her skin. Her lips pop and drip with golden honey, her eyes grip the heavenly ministry. Purity lines her figure with innocents grabbing every movement made. with every turn of her neck, glory creeps in her continence. Gazing out the window she captivates flowerfull desire and reach of beauty. poised by angelic manna, she grabs at freedom.

Suggesting warmth with her persuading glare, an areah of fallen snow forces the room into lathered purity. she gleans in ones direction and withdraws his very existence. An entire nights-heaven is constricted within each of her pupils. The stars that liter the blackness of these eyes shine brighter then any earthly night. She moves to her feet and gathers spectrum of color with every step.

Why so demanding in beauty; God only knows. For she must be coming directly from His own. gliding across the floor, the room fades to an eternal twilight. Lavender rapes around her halo, where soon only the fragrance of Eden will remain. soon the Independence of Noah’s raven will grab her only to fly and never be seen again…”

With tears in her eyes she reply’s “awlllll, she must be so special” but that was cheezyest thing I ever read.. “later loser” she yells across the cafe!

There I was, left alone once more. Thinking to my self “Too bad you weren’t the girl I was staring at fat-ass”

quick memory

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:56:00 -0700

Life is sick
Dogs lick

People fail
Boats sail

Trees grow
Bugs glow

God calls
Church falls

Birds tweet
Girls cheat

Tricks try
Stories lie

Bee’s fly
Men die

Hello
goodbye

Who cares, the tree house is done and I’m spending the rest of the afternoon in it… Pops and I just finished the broken down fort, yeah its broke down because he was half loaded while we were building it with some nasty drink, that I thought was always orange juice, until I took a sip of it one day by accident and puked out the burning flavor of vodka. Although it wasn’t the safest place, you know 15 feet in the air, standing on bent nails and half eaten plywood from termites, but it was like standing in a place that was all mine, a place where no rules were in existence, but the ones I made. The Tree house was a haven from adults and rules, and a fun factory for every kid on my block. Hanging out at the tree house was a sense of liberation, and freedom. The type of democracy that men long for, you know; the kind that excludes you from all your responsibly, or the quality of freedom that pulls you out of the mental disappointment because your sub conscience is totally fucked from money, work, relationships, and yourself. This was my empire of self loathed longing being quenched. This is my new tree house. This is where all my fears took refuge.
Play,

Play,

Play;

Until it became dark, or until dinner time- when I can hear mom yelling through the small jungle in my back yard. I hated the dark, and the dark hated me. It’s Thursday night and I’m running away from the tree house, with the grave erky sound of wind blowing through the trees. My heart began racing like a starving wolf pack looking for food. The night was in its self bent with a gloomed glow. You could almost see faces on every tree and every corrupt branch in the mist. The sound of animals begins to gather deeper through my ear than Mrs. Hanes voice at 8:00 in the morning. The adrenalin moving through my body made me feel as if I was flying. I knew nothing could catch me, not the fastest beast in these woods. I looked up as I was on the brink of the woods and my yard, and a flying devil went by. Yeah’ it was something, unlike this world and it’s appearance sent those damn chills up my back, then BAM!!! Straight into the back door than into the kitchen. On my knees, I look up to see mom getting dinner ready, and I could only imagine where pops were. “What’s wrong” she asked in a tone of concern, but also that I scarred the crap out of her. “I just saw something” “I just saw something” I reapplied. Pops comes running in like he’s still in Nam’ half drunk ready to carry out an elephant. “I don’t See anything” he says- yea no crap, I could only think to myself, “I just saw a freaking demon monster and you’re a sloppy cheesecake.” I knew If I got caught spending a lot of time up in the tree house there would be a price I had to pay, the cost of it getting to dark and me having to navigate through the woods back home. It became a central friction of wanting to have fun verses getting the shit scared out of me.

I hate blogging.. Although I’m attracted to it the same way one can’t stop smelling the...

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:38:53 -0700

I hate blogging.. Although I’m attracted to it the same way one can’t stop smelling the dog crap on his/her finger.

Kristiana

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:15:21 -0700

Not so long ago,
    In a wicked place, during a cold night
I seemed to have fallen upon a glow,
    And the shining of a sparkling light.
As the cold did blow,
    And the waves of the sea moving with fright’
I walked closer to see-
    To see this magnificent sight.
My eyes grew fixed,
    With a hellish stare,
My heart stopped beating
    Because of her heavenly glare.
Curiosity and desire
    Pulled my mind from such
A wicked mire’
    And Brought me face to face
With Her burning fire
    That turns honest souls into liars.

This light was a child and I was a child,
     In this world by the sea,
But we were caught in this place
     And needed to be set free.
Soon, without a trace
     We were gone in such a love
Which covered her and me;
     A love that all the seraphs in heaven
Wished they could
     Peek down and see;
And be apart-
     Apart of our glorious Leaven.

For this reason we connected
     In this place by the sea,
Her light became more perfected
     And I was broken down like a tree.
We danced all night
     In the ball room of fright,
As others envied her and me.
    With Demons plotting doom,
And Angels wanting
    To Consume.’
But they failed to understand,
    Our love and blinding light,
With a silver strand
    Connecting us on this cold, Wicked night.

Time went and moved foreword,
    Like the waves of the sea,
So did my light,
    And I- Into the darkness of the night.
We Drifted into the moments,-
    The Moments that We now live
And We shine together,
     With a glow that our love will give.
As for the place by the sea,
     It stands and thrives
Without the children of light;
     And functions with the coldness,
And the evil of the night.
     But it soon will die
Because of the loss
     Of the glowing of sky,
From the light I took
     To make my life time ally.

"I fell asleep- then woke up to everything right where I left it.- The ‘thing’ I find..."

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 14:58:42 -0700

“I fell asleep- then woke up to everything right where I left it.- The ‘thing’ I find interesting was the nightmare that pulled me away from depression of the unchanged. Describing the nightmare would only ruin the wicked and glorious adventure.- Although, waking up to the same, dull atmosphere, seems more like a nightmare.”

“Even after almost three millennia of written literature, poetry...

Tue, 02 Mar 2010 15:35:20 -0800

“Even after almost three millennia of written literature, poetry retains its appeal to the ear as well as to the eye; to hear a poem read aloud by someone who understands it, and who wishes to share that understanding with someone else, can be a crucial experience, instructing the silently reading eye ever thereafter to hear what it is seeing.”

Sin!O only fatal woe,That mak’st me sad and mourning...

Thu, 18 Feb 2010 17:18:38 -0800

Sin!
O only fatal woe,
That mak’st me sad and mourning go!
That all my joys dost spoil,
His Kingdom and my Soul defile!
I never can agree
With thee!

Luxiura - lust to love, didn’t you?

Sun, 14 Feb 2010 11:48:00 -0800

Luxiura - lust to love, didn’t you?