The Collective Buzz

The café manager leered down at Constantine over the counter. It was a simple order, really: ‘I’ll have a cinnamon roll’. But it made the manager’s bushy eyebrows furrow, first in confusion, then in incredulity. He didn’t know what to make of the young man before him. “We don’t sell those anymore! Nobody sells those anymore!” He raised his voice. “Who even likes cinnamon now, anyway?”

By now, half the of the café customers had turned to stare. Someone in the corner yelled out “It just ain’t normal, I’m telling ya! It ain’t right.” Even after so long, the utter absurdity of this sort of reaction still bewildered Con. A sharp slap landed on his back as mocking laughter rang out. He winced. Encouraged, the entire room began to bristle with hostility. “What are you? Some kind of freak?”

Within seconds, the café was a hailstorm of jeering. He should have been used to it by now, but it startled him just the same as always. He vaguely wondered why he hadn’t learnt from past experiences to watch his mouth. But it wasn’t the people in the café he couldn’t bear. The WiHive was abuzz with flurries of pictures and videos of the scene being uploaded simultaneously. He tried to block out the network but to no avail.

Across the globe, bored people with nothing better to do pounced on the excitement and joined in the abuse with glee. Con reckoned his brain might explode with the overload of flaming that was being volleyed into his head. Somewhere at the back of his mind was the usual internal groan, ‘Really, now? This is ridiculous.’

“Break it up! Break it up!” A sharp bark sounded from a woman who stood in the doorway. Silence fell immediately. The uniform she wore was unmistakable. Her voice dropped to a low growl “If I see any more trouble around here…” Her fingers fell on her waist pouch. Some cowered. Some resumed their activities from before the commotion. Others looked at her with pity.

Con ran after her as she turned on her heel and stalked out. “Wait! Officer!” He caught up to her, panting. “Thanks. But why did you help me?” She raised an eyebrow. Con pressed on, curious. “Contamination Control and Pre-emptive Strike Force, right? You guys patrol the WiHive. Not the streets. So how come you came to help me?”

“If you think I came down specially to get a troublemaker like you out of a tight spot, you’ve got another think coming, kiddo.” Troublemaker? Con indignantly opened his mouth to argue, but she carried on, “End of my shift. Was on my way home. Felt the disturbance in the network and decided that things were getting out of hand.”

“I wasn’t the one making trouble! It was everyone else! You’d think personal preference were a crime, the way they were reacting!” He paused. “…It’s been too long.”

“…So you do know.” The officer allowed some faint surprise to cross her features before they resolved into their usual hardened expression. “Then you should have known that this would set them off! It drives them crazy that an individual could disagree with the rest of the world. The world, Con. You should know by now to keep a low profile if you can’t follow the norm!”

Of course she knew his name. She also knew he painted, often sat in trees to contemplate the strangest things, and saw a whole world of magic in a drop of water. All it took was a quick profile search on the WiHive. And of course, she now knew he was stubborn in his preference for cinnamon buns despite the fact that everyone else hated them.

Con didn’t know anything about this woman who seemed to share his understanding of the world situation, and yet didn’t quite seem to care. CCPSF officers had the privilege of having their own privacy protected. It was a privilege granted to them as a professional necessity. They patrolled the WiHive network, dealing with contributors who threatened to severely contaminate the global thought-pool with undesirable – and sometimes, dangerous – ideas. When the world shared one mind, it was crucial to protect it. The CCPSF also traced the thought patterns of those who were deemed potential threats to society. Pre-emptive strikes on rising criminal organizations were their duty.

Fifteen years ago, scientists had rejoiced as they proudly presented to the public the result of years of research and experimentation – the WiHive. Wifi was already global, but they had taken it to the next level. All particles being constant random motion, scientists had achieved fine-tuning the wifi frequency to match that of the molecular vibrations of the human brain. Thus, the next generation of networking was born. Faster, more convenient, and with improved ability to share with others exactly what it was you wanted them to know. Wikipedia, Facebook, Twitter, Google – A wealth of knowledge and social connections no longer merely at your fingertips, but at the impulse of a neuron.

Society welcomed the new system with open arms and adapted to it rapidly. It had only been fifteen years, but now few people could imagine, let alone remember, life without the WiHive. But Con could remember. He could remember what it was like when a person was still himself, not the entire world condensed into a single body, to be no different from the next person.

Now, these fifteen years later, Con sat on his living room floor. Kyra – the CCPSF officer – sat opposite him, sipping tea. He’d wanted to talk about what he’d noticed some time ago, because Kyra seemed to have noticed it too. Kyra, for lack of any better way to pass the time, obliged him.

“Alright, we’ll talk. I’m not on duty for a while. But what is there to talk about?”

Con twitched in frustration. Kyra surveyed the living room. It looked like… an organized mess. Palettes and brushes littered the floor. Her eyes fell on a pamphlet.
‘WiHive aims to link up the world more intimately than ever before! Like bees in their hive, the world will be a connected community that shares greater understanding, empathy, knowledge, and unity towards greater goals!’
It was the pamphlet that was given out when the WiHive was first released.

“What do you mean, what is there to talk about? Look what’s happening! It’s getting worse! Everyone’s minds are…” He struggled for the word. “…Homogenous.”

“You and your cinnamon rolls. Why can’t you just eat what everyone else eats? If they don’t like cinnamon, then there won’t be any. It’s useless producing something which no longer has a market. How else do you think our economy has become this efficient? We pour our scant resources into things that the world wants. We don’t need deviants like you going up to cafés and ordering things that nobody else eats.”

“Okay, so the economy thrives. But what about progress, then? What about progress as a society?”

Kyra shrugged. “C’mon. The world is hooked up 24/7 into everyone’s minds. So we have greater understanding, empathy, unity, blah blah blah.” She mimicked the pamphlet text. “We’ve come a long way as a society. No racism, for one. No prejudice.”
“No prejudice? Then what was that, back in the café? They picked on the minority! Me!”
“You were the equivalent of a carnivore in a vegetarians’ meeting!”

Con ignored her. “What about you! Did you see the looks some of them gave you? They pity you because you’re above the network and not swimming in it. They were looking at you like having your own privacy cleaved you off from humanity. Like you were robotic, somehow. Unfeeling.”

Kyra fell silent. He’d struck a nerve.

She leveled herself, then hissed, “I don’t need their pity. My privacy is a privilege. I would sooner die than lose myself to the masses.”
They contemplated this for a moment.
“So would I” Con replied.
Kyra sighed. “It’s not often I find an individual who’s… an individual.”
“That makes two of us, then.”

Kyra shook her head. She got up and paced the room. “It’s not the same. You, you’re an artist. You noticed the merging of minds because you’re different. Because you’re always looking for the new. The exciting. Looking for inspiration.” She gestured vaguely towards a pile of sketches on the sofa. Their depictions were hard to make out, but one thing was clear. They were all the same: scrawls of frustration, trying in vain to portray a single indecipherable object from different perspectives. “That’s when you ran out of new inspiration, right? That’s when you noticed that there was no more diversity.” She closed her eyes.

“That’s where we’re different. It’s my job to be ‘above the network’, as you so nicely put it. I just sit there all day, weeding out ‘dangerous ideas’, predicting the next loony, watching our safe, happy, connected world decay on the inside. But what do I care?” She sniffed. “I have the rights to my own personality. So does everyone else, if only they bothered to realize it. Like you did.”

They sat in silence for a few moments more. Finally, Con rose to his feet, and took the empty teacup from Kyra and put it in the kitchen sink. When he re-entered the living room, he returned her level gaze. “They’ve succeeded, then. We’re bees in the Hive.”

She smiled wryly. “No, Con. They’re bees. We’re drone flies. We look like bees but we're not."

D; A failure of a second draft.

Journal 215: Homo Sapiens

It is the year 2059. Well, that is if anyone was around to record it. Our mission that day was to check out Planet Gaia. It would be an official visit unlike those times of snooping around. Anyway it was nigh time for us to check on them too. We arrived on the once tender earth, and were greeted with occasional flashes of lightning. The rumbling skies, barren earth, and a spine-chilling silence made it apparent that there was not a soul on the planet.

My team and I went down to the mother computer underground to make sense of the situation. Just about two earth months ago, we received a signal from them. Their technology had progressed and they had contacted us, with hope that we could visit them, and prove that they are not the only living beings in the infinite universe. After a few discussions with the official team, we decided to send this exploration team.

I plugged in the decoding device and watched the encrypted words decode. We sat down at the various computer stations, and were soon absorbed into the data system, awaiting an explanation for the apparent disappearance of mankind.

The story began. It was the year 2035, in terms of Earth years, of course. It was the year the prototype M-E91 was manufactured, and was considered to be a major breakthrough in mankind’s technology. Mankind had been trying to model robots to be as similar to humans as possible, but the one thing they could never come close to was to input emotions into a robot. M-E91 was an undeniable success, a project recognized by the international community, and a sure way to start an intellectual discussion in social gatherings. The creators of this marvelous robot, Monsanta, had not only input emotions into its system, but also created an analytical system in the robot, such that it can survive and adapt to undesirable and harsh conditions. The buzz was about such robots being caregivers in the future, and how good it was to finally have a robot which could understand human emotions. The bustle among mankind inevitably rose expectations that yet another change in mankind’s daily life was imminent, whether for better, or for worse.

Then came the test for the prototype. Through rigorous selection tests, ten people out of the thousands of volunteers were chosen. The criteria were very much simple – being able to express real emotions, and of course, being emotional. Only then would the emotional sensors be triggered, and result in the test on the robot being a successful one.

The first test subject `was a reserved young boy of age thirteen. Alpha was an orphan living alone in a mansion left behind by his parents, who were killed in a terrorist attack. They had used their bodies to shield Alpha from the rampage of bullets. The once lively and cheerful child was greatly affected and changed dramatically into a weary, depressed, lost and hopeless boy. He would not speak with his peers, and would only do so to adults if he had no other way out.

The test was into its fourth day, and Alpha still had not spoken a word to M-E91. The scientists monitoring the robotic chip from their headquarters were anxious; if he still did not make any interaction with the robot, they would have to change their test subject quickly. They could not figure out how Alpha could be so quiet. After all, they had assumed that children were the most vocal in their emotions, as compared to adults.

“Hey…,” M-E91’s voice sensor picked up the sound waves. Alpha had spoken. The scientists sitting in front of the various screens and monitors perked up and were expectant. Alpha seemed to be momentarily surprised at himself, and from hearing his own voice. Clearing his throat, he continued, “You there, you have feelings right?” The light of M-E91’s eyes shone as it spoke. It was made of metal and basically given limbs, but not elaborate, and was not human-like in appearance as it was merely a prototype.

M-E91 replied, “Yes I do.”

Alpha then proceeded to asked,” Then… Do you think I’m depressed?”

After whirring sounds of engines coming from M-E91, it replied,” Depression is a variation of being sad. Robot only knows how to feel happy, sad, and angry. But robot knows that being sad is bad for your health.”

“You don’t get it… I have… nothing now. Absolutely nothing,” he choked on his tears. “There’s barely anyone who bothers about me. The world goes on, they leave people behind. These people are helpless. I mean, so what if the nation holds a minute of silence for the victims of that terrorist attack? What is the point? It’s just a ceremony, to make it seem like they care. But in actual fact, everyone gets on with their lives don’t they? Deal with it--- that is what they say. Or there would be mutterings about me. Deal with it… That’s easy to say.” He gulped, and his voice quivered as he went on,” They are gone. Forever gone. It’s all because of me. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault! Why am I alive? I should have died. I… ” He broke into sobs, trying to control his outbursts, but evidently failing to. The bottling up of feelings proved to be too much for a child of his age. All Alpha had been trying to do was to deal with the broken shards of himself, and mask it with silence. He was teetering on the edge.

The light from M-E91’s eyes flickered. “Alpha cannot die. All human lives are precious. Alpha needs to treasure his life.”

Just like a mine that had been set off, Alpha exploded,” Lives… are precious? That is a whole load of crap. What were my parents’ lives then? Not fit to be treasured?”

His eyes were shining brightly with tears, his face mangled with hatred for those who ruined his life. In spite of himself, he laughed maniacally, at himself, and smirked, “What am I doing here talking to a piece of metal? You’ve fallen so far, Alpha. Only a piece of scrap would bother to listen to you, and it is here only because of some test. Pathetic.”

With that, Alpha ran up to his room, and shut the door. He wasn’t seen or heard till the next day, when M-E91 had broken into the room, and found blood stains on the floor. Alpha was lying there, cold and still, with his wrist slit and the scissors painted with dried blood.

Chaos ensued back in the headquarters of the scientists who were monitoring the test. M-E91 emotions level chart was fluctuating erratically, and there seemed to be something more than they input into the robot. The emotions had risen to a point where M-E91 would not be controlled, and the emergency shut-down control that the scientists had created was of no use.

A loud crash from the roof alerted the research lab that trouble was near. M-E91 was rampaging its way through the securities, and having much success. Workers were scattered and frantic, running away for their lives. M-E91 located spare robotic parts and scrape metal in the lab, and went away, surprising the team of scientists. They had no time to bother with what the robot was doing, as there was a more pressing issue in their minds. The press would soon cover this story, and their apparent failure with the prototype. The lab was soon bustling again, with people trying to save what was left of this lab’s reputation, which was a futile attempt. What does reputation mean, if you’re not even alive to savor it?

Meanwhile, in a mere span of three days, M-E91 managed to raise a whole army of robots, which were modeled after it, the prototype. Thefts for raw materials and breaking into laboratories earned M-E91 a place in the “Wanted Robots” section. Public warning was sounded to evacuate people to safer places, but within mere minutes of the robot armies’ appearance, every other place in the world was destroyed by the slew of bombs and attacks that were launched upon the world.

In a while, screams that cracked the air died down. The dust and smoke that was kicked up from the bombs were clearing up. The lands were stripped of any living object, and a ghostly silence enveloped the world. The darkening sky was clearly unhappy with the string of events, and the extinction of mankind.

“Are you happy, Alpha?” M-E91’s mechanic voice was the first to break the peace.

“I helped you get rid of those that you hate. I killed those terrorists, and helped you get revenge. Why aren’t you coming back to talk to me anymore? I helped you kill them. And I didn’t create more families like yours. I didn’t want anyone to feel sad. So I eliminated them as a whole. Aren’t you happy? Why don’t you come back?”

The emotions of M-E91 were out of control. The army of robots fell to the ground, and some into the sea. They did not have a leader to follow anymore.

“So this is life. So this is depression. So this is the feeling of losing something forever. It is painful. Why must you humans input it into me? Emotions are chainsaws grinding in a torture chamber near your heart. I want Alpha back. He cannot come back to life. Never again.”

M-E91 was hovering through the air and pacing around frantically.

“Those people that I killed can never come back to life too. Alpha is not happy with me. What am I doing this for? Because of my… grief, I trampled upon others lives. Alpha will not be happy with me. All I wanted was to get Alpha back…”

It froze in mid-air, and came to a sudden realization.

“All I wanted…? I... it’s all about me. Because of my own emotions and ones, I destroyed everyone? I took away happiness. I created a void of space and emptiness on earth. My own whims and fancies caused billions of lives, and made people sad. At least Alpha only took it out on himself. Yes, only himself... Why did I care so much about my grief? I caused others much more. It’s not fair. ”

M-E91 was overheating from the analysis. It didn’t matter, because it had come to a conclusion.

“Initiating self-destruction mechanism”

“This is for making people sad.” This was the last documented line of M-E91.

A ripping sound of metal, rubber, and computer chips pierced the air. “Self-destruction complete.” And the chip turned from green to red, to colorless. All was silent. A sudden breeze was stirring in this inner barren wasteland. Both were at peace.

Back in the laboratory, I gathered up my materials, and prepared to leave. The rest of my team was already in the spaceship waiting for me. I clicked a button on my ear.

“Reporting to HQ, experiment Homo Sapiens was a failure, but Omega has gathered much information. Data will be further process back at HQ. On to second assignment-- planting new concocted species on favorable Planet X 271 light years away. My team will report back to HQ after this. Over and out.”

I hurried to my spaceship. Staring at the reflection from the smooth silver walls around the spaceship, I looked at myself. The greenish figure had buttons, webbed feet, gills, and three eyes. Boy was I glad that I am not an experiment.

Hmm …Concocted species?

No time to ponder, I have to rush out a report on my visit.

Case file name: Gaia (Extinction of the Homo Sapiens)

Case closed.

For now.

Untouched

It is she.

That ethereal perfection,

that sheer innocence; it irks me.

Oh, how it irks me so.

How can it be that such a being exists?

I want to mar that porcelain skin

and see it flower blue-black with poison,

tongue distended,

bulging eyes grotesque.

I want to see the dark pupils of those doe-like eyes

narrow to pinpoints of terror,

like prey in the last second

before it is shredded to ribbons of flesh,

bloody tatters in the wind.

I want to scream into her bleeding ears

that nobody,

nobody

is untouched by the sins of this  world.

Nobody leaves unscarred.

Nobody can be

so infuriatingly pure,

so demure,

so guileless.

Mourner

So murmured the mourner
In black feathers crowned
In black feathers gowned
None fell from the corner

Of the pearl so black
What warmth it lacked
Sapped without any touch
But the hellish fiery clutch

And deathly cold embrace
That encompasses the mind
So diseased, so blind
With rage, sorrow, hate, distaste

Would one throw ones' wing out
In deluded effort to rout
The sense in the senseless
As does he proceed to reap
Harvests warranting weeps
Fresh crops, fresh curse

As the coronet shook its' crown
Pearls in blackness bound

Sinking into the evergrowth
Hoping one would instill
A purge for great ill
Now the one most bereft
Not the black shine that left

Seemingly were they adhered
The mourner would so murmur
Till he joined her


I just realised I've yet to put this up here. I was ranting on foolscap and this came out. It's inspired by how crows continue to tend to their parents after growing up and King Lear (:

You're My Night

Leave the earth behind
Shoot into the sky
Here we're most alive
Ignore the time

And should even the stars die
We'll never, you're my night

We're linked by fate, us two
A swirling darkness around
Me, I am lost in you

Are you unable to see me as well
It matters not, I still feel
You, you're here, I can tell

Stay with me, by my side
We'll search for the light

Not a thing in space
Could compare to your face
A star in night's embrace
As across the velvet they race

It's so dark, there's no bright
Doesn't matter, you're my night

Through the black I searched for
You, trying to find that which
Before shook me to the core

A lone light on the roam
Shooting across here and
There, yet right at home

Come with me, we'll see
All that could have been

Inarguably a work of art
Past themselves they dart
But never from it shall they part
Just like from yours, my heart

I can't see, but this is right
I can feel you're my night


(Arrrrgh I was bored, ok)

Let vengeance lay

The ebbing flow, the waning moon;

Lone wolves howl, amongst stark runes;

Fresh blood trickles, darkness looms;

Cicatrice deepen, the chorus croons,

"Shall the culprit be on the noose?"

Enter the cycle of doom

The infinite loop, the irrepressible gloom

Chase the culprit, for his forfeit

A pound of flesh, not any less

Two wrongs make a right, that is such fright.

The receding light, impurities dried bright.

Chase your tail, the winding trail.

Punish the culprit, or vulnerability...

Derailed, derailed, now left in a whited sepulchre.

The raucous crow, oblivious loon;

Why the sorrow, why the gloom ;

Dreams are haunted, resolve swoons;

Reproach's rampant, watch the harpoon-

Tether at the edge of a calming lagoon.

Near the ledge, plays the familiar tune;

Black curtains droop, the ends are loose-

"Shall I, shall I, then be on the noose?"

One of our funnier collabs

We ought to have titled our collabs. oh well. This one is by all three of us.

Everything breaks, shatters like glass
Everything slows, blurred and fast
And you always wonder about your vague past
Wishing ever to take your breath last
Feathery frail like frost on the floor
Creamy cake like the cream of crops
But craven crop creams crash, and cry in crypts crushed
While mindless minion moans in the mush
And perverted penguins poop in the pool
How prurient! Filling the pool with their stool
Glass on wings aflutter yonder
Bugs on trees buzzing with wonder
Responding with wonderment and awe
At crimson splatters upon the floor
The crows are flying, a sign of dying
Pigs are sighing, pies are crying
And everywhere are avocados flying
With my malicious propaganda spreading
Like Japanese cinema and television
Boo Radley had them pecans pizened
Scout ran wild and shouted like Tarzan
She thought we were being invaded by Martians
Alas! Alack! The hippos are here!
Ahoy! Attack! The samurais scramble!
The ninja turtles come to save the day!
Raffael, Michaelangelo, Leonardo, away!
We are reaching the end, let's not stray
Onward go the horses, hay and neigh
The meek mouse mellow munches marmalade
While weeping willows cry for the esplanade
The durian weeps too, it's ears stink
But not as much as a horse, I should think
More like a harmless mockingbird which sings
Kill all the bluejays or wasps, rip off their wings!
The pen quivers in shame, thank god this is over at last
But or creative era, has yet to pass.

Collab between Cynic and Caprice (this is my absolute favorite)

Collab rules: Last line becomes the first line of next stanza. Each person writes one stanza at a time. Same rules as the other collab between Cynic and Idealist.

Small white pills, count one-two-three
My ceiling fan, it talks to me
It tells me to stand on my bed
So hungry blades can reach my head

So hungry blades can reach my head
In he hands of the unappeased dead
The ghosts of the future, ghosts of the past
A haunting visage to see last

A haunting visage to see last
The stainéd corridor of the past
We wash the walls with turpentine
Till hands are raw, shape undefined

Till hands are raw, shape undefined
Like a sky, dotted with starry concubines
Always in position under the Moon
Who's like the soul, a drifting balloon

Who's like the soul, a drifting balloon?
Among the clouds, another moon
It drifts into the atmosphere
Another soulless person here

Another soulless person here
His heart, as glass as clear
The glass heart neither gives nor takes
A lost life never to wake

A lost life never to wake
With this silver, I now take
But sleepless nights it haunts me still
My thirst has had not had it's fill

My thirst has had not had it's fill
The thirst for though, power of will
It drains me from the inside out
But drains you just as much about

But drains you just as much about
As if you were to run and shout
About the town, up and down,
Screaming bloody murder found

Screaming bloody murder found
Nothing'll ever turn around
Isolated, solitary, estranged
Deluded, demented, dejected, deranged

Deluded, demented, dejected, deranged
The doc pronounces you insane
You turn the pills over in your hand
And once again count them, again and again

And once again count them, again and again
Again and again comes the pain and the pain
Again and again count the deathly chimes
Again and again count the end of time

Again and again count the end of time
By now you're sure you're out of rhymes
Turning your noggin inside out
And upside down, shaking it around

And upside down, shaking it around
Hearing the upside down, shaken sounds
As things alive jiggle and bound
And end and lie in a dead mound

--Cynic signing off~

Look what I found in my file

Yay collabs. This one doesn't go retarded halfway like the others :D/D:

Splendour is doomed to fade
The mighty gods dictate
Lest they fall themselves
Taking a dark inward delve
Immersing in your darker self
Old hope untouched on the shelf
Eroding the dusts of time
Joyous memories lose their shine
Like a locket tarnished sickly
Revelling in mocking mimicked glee
Denting esteem of any kind
Grappling through the mist we find
Ourselves, the divine and horror within
Failing haunting vengeance of past sins
Taking with it repentance lost
Sorrow now transfigured a plain of frost
Oh, how shalt thou escape suffering's eternal loop?
No one ever does, we puppets jumping through hoops
In their celestial seats, do the stars pity us?
Will they pulverise us, to a million pixie dust?
Or shred us to ribbons into the wind?
To float forever, atonement for our sins?
What if superior beings are just stories of our dreams?
Figments of imaginings conjured by desperate screams?
What godliness do gods embody?
Just sculptors of tragic stories?
Our world pulled from a gossamer thought
Growing and engorging like flowerwort
The end is near, it's curtain call
The last to stand shall finally fall
By Moros's orchestrations, doom at hand
Stories of death, by his pen
And here too our tale comes to an end
An end absolute we shall be sent

Mashed potato - the sequel

Same thing as the one Caprice did, but this time with the Cynic's songs! Doo de doo de doo. I doubt anyone will recognize the songs used. I'll try to use some more-well-known songs I guess. I'll TRY.

Love preys the living and praises the dead
In the heart of our hearts by death we were wed.

All I ever wished for was a vengeance on solitude

All I ever longed for; the presence of you

The soul you're about to sell for passion deranged;

The heart you're about to fail for reasons insane.

Confusion writhes around our hearts impatiently
It drains the faith that lights the dark and sets us free

I dream in darkness, I sleep to die

Erase the silence, erase my life

Mirrors on the ceiling, pink champagne on ice

We are all just prisoners here, of our own device

She got down on her hands and knees, one ear against the ground

Holding her breath to hear something, but the dirt made not a sound.

And down below your veins run dry, your vacant eyes

I lost control, your face is pale, your body's cold.

I can't see the stars anymore, living here.

Let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear.

Mashed Potato

I thought I'd compound some lines from my favourite songs (: The order of the lines is not intentional, but I think it came out quite well. Perhaps if you read it, you'll find a song you know!

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I wanna stay in love with my sorrow
But God I wanna let it go
Seems like I'm always on my own
Seems like I'm never coming home
The world we knew won't come back
The time we've lost can't get back
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made
I can't even find a place to start
How do I choose between my head and heart
It's been a long time since I came around
Been a long time but I'm back in town
This is transcendental
On another level
I swore I'd never fall again
But this don't even feel like falling
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine them when I'm alone
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time
And what I did, it wasn't cool
I'm gonna swear that I'll never do that again to you
Bring me to life
I've been living a lie
There's nothing inside
Bring me to life

Black Rose

You lie in a bed of black roses, convinced that they're coral
You could look into a mirror and not see yourself
You lie on the inside yet pride yourself over your integrity
A knife bound in silk is still a knife
You think you are you, but that's not you
I know the truth
Why can't you be honest to yourself
Like anyone else
Covering the cypress, you it kills
With piteous daffodils
I can't see how you feel
What you live is not real
Ghosts you abandoned, in a swirling miasma haunt you
In avoidance of becoming, you became the fool
Bells and chimes toll for you now, you cannot hide
In refusal to go, you throw yourself to the other side
Around you a broken world is flying
But you're dying
Cut down the chains of aloe then
Instead of growing them
Should the heavens send down blooms
Yellow roses to you
Strangling your own core
Tearing down your doors
I don't know you anymore
Breaking the reflection that beholds
Against what you're told
In the storm of shards foolishly stand bold
Warped beliefs you hold
And slowly, without a single goodbye
Denying what is nigh
You die
No asphodels for you
No need for going of two
No more lies from true
No more denying that you're mortal
No more lying in a bed of black roses, convinced that they're coral



More rambling.

Live Again

Unknowingly, inexplicably, my faith ebbs away into oblivion
What if I can't visualise your vision?
Does the marionette beckon his pet life
Into his web of control?
Does he walk its' way into the strife
That awaits all?
When doubt overruns faith
Suspicion overcomes trust
Sorrow overwhelms joy
How do you love a world you've come to hate?
How do you savour what has come to disgust?
How do you play, when you've come to realise you're the worlds' toy?
Your surroundings mocking you with its' ghastly grin
Don't let them do you in
To delude yourself is to let them win
Do what it takes, kindness or sin
There's no time
You have to try
It's do or die
Close your eyes
The end is nigh
Now don't sigh
Say your last goodbyes
Slowly unhinge
And
Free yourself from the marionettes' strings
And live again
Make your life yours
Move of your own accord
And live again



Just my rambling.

Stranger

Simple tune.

Convoluted soul.

Stark runes.

Worn, like that one pair of shoes

You could never bear to throw out;

The ones you insist can still be used.

The pair that walked with you

For so long, Bearing old scars and

Still waiting for more anew.

That pair that is broken in, broken down,

Broken up. Tired. Comfortable. Doesn’t matter

Where you’re headed; it’s always homebound.

Familiar, like that one song you’ve always

Known. That nameless one that beckons

To you. That takes you away.

The song that you’ve never known.

And yet always known.

And somehow will always know.

Recognizable on instinct,

Decipherable upon thought,

Unfathomably indistinct.

Like all things that take you away,

Far away; transcending all tomorrow

And every yesterday.

Something that plucks you from

The palm of the familiar, taking you

Absolutely nowhere; Where you belong.

It takes you to back into the hand

Where nothing has moved since.

But you’re lost in your homeland.

Mysterious, like dream catchers

With all they hold; tenuous feathers

From faraway rafters.

An eagle that seizes you, your kicking feet

Scraping tenuous wisps of cloud, when suddenly

Your form and the ground haphazardly meet.

Infuriating dreamlike apparitions that appear

In your weakest moments, but

Somehow always vanish when you draw near.

What do you seek of me? Spirit adamant;

Somehow your presence never fades;

Even so (more so?) in abandonment.

Who are you? What to me are

You? Something. Nothing. Everything.

Play me like one of your guitars.

Melody low

Hold me.

Then go.

[Note: In case it isn't obvious, yes the lines rhyme.

I wrote this to capture my impressions of a certain person after we met for the first time.

One of my more self-indulgent poems whereby the audience has no clue what I'm talking about, and the only person with intimate knowledge of all the analogies and connections is me, since nobody can understand it. Maybe smart people who also happen to read my blog can figure it out. Idk.

I don't think I've ever edited a poem so many times before.]