blackgrypho's blog: "invoking emotions"

Couldn't get this out of my head so here it is. Those photographs in My mind Memories that will never be lost And yet need to be forgotten. The color of your eyes The way you looked when asleep The anger on your face when you hit Me. All your things are gone, yet this remains As a warning. As a reminder that I'm in a better place, Never to be so cruelly fooled again.

5/12/07, 4:03pm Before anyone asks: No this is not about anyone I know at the moment... it was just what sprang out of my head and made me feel better at the time to write. My home is gone, Destroyed by my own hands in a moment of insanity. There is no apology I could make at the moment, I was designed to fight, Designed to not give up, Created for struggle. I know not how to be otherwise, And that is what slowly poisons my life… Brings the fire that destroys. All should fear, All should avoid this battered shell because nothing is left but the fire, Fire behind these eyes. None can win against it, None can serve under it, All consuming and complete… yet beautiful. I will never be called that again, Never hear His voice again, And yet even that I fight against. There are no roads that will accept me, No home that could keep me, No love that can chain me, I am nothing more then the fire… and it is time to learn control of it, So that maybe sometime in the future I can warm another soul Instead of slowly burning it to the ground.

So many roads, which one to choose. For the first time in my life I truly don’t know…. Yet to stand still is death of another kind, and moving too slowly my own private hell. How can I tell myself it’s the right way when all signs point to a dead end, or worse Do Not Enter? Should I take the road map offered or refuse to stop for directions… when am I going to get it through my head that I’m driving? I need to turn on the ignition, turn off the emergency lights and figure out where I’m going. Right. Now. I can’t crash after coming this far, can’t give up and give the wheel to others after fighting so hard to claim it, I have to focus and watch the road signals. And most importantly follow my instincts, those are what I need to follow not the screams and suggestions from the backseat.

You ever just get so bottled up in the city that you just HAVE to take a vaction or you'll explode? That's how I've been feeling lately. So I took a mini vacation to someone in the middle of nowhere with some friends. If nothing else it'll help me get the poetic muse back because I've had seriousl writer's block lately. Alright that's enough yapping on my part. Ta

There will be no more poetry entries until after April 25th because I'm working my ass off. That is all.

Hope for a new life 6/17/02 An actual poem I was commissioned to write for a friend’s theater class where she had to create and perform a play. The play was about a girl who after being the target of harrassment by fellow students takes her own life. Oh cruelest fate which put me here, A land of pain and mocking jeers. A place which destroys all hopes and dreams, Takes away all pleasant things. Three Divas tear away my soul, Kill any chance to take control And now I have no other choice. This is the only way the world will hear my voice. Oh gentlest death: come comfort me, Bring an end to such cruelty! For you are the only one who knows How hurtful are their jeering echoes. With this blade I bid this world good bye, And maybe find a better world in the sun bright sky.

Sexual Roller Coaster 9/19/03 My excuse: sexual frustraion. I want you. Make no mistake this is true, But can you handle it? Or will the pain take over in the middle of the ride, Bruises and welts from side to side And sweat dripping from every helpless pore. I want you. Stretched out across my bed, Legs bound with duck tape to the posts, Arms bound in front of you, one mass of tape. I want you. Screaming at the top of your lungs with every lash of braided leather belt, Pain and pleasure a map made of skin only I can read. Welts and the entire bruise spectrum making you twitch In anticipation for the next stroke, The bed sheets flooded with your scent And the air filled with the music of pain. I want you. Begging for release with non human sounds, My skin covering yours as I kiss every beautiful scar, Taking my time to leave a bite mark or two on your shoulder blades And roll your nipples between my fingers. I want you. Spent and unconscious from your explosion, Willingly wearing my collar with pride Even as you dream. I lovingly cut off the duck tape with my knife, And hold you as your eyelids flutter, Almost back to reality… Can you see what I see? Will you take a walk down my dark path and see? Because dear heart this ride’s on me, But the question still remains: Do you dare take a ride on the coaster Whips and Chains?

Wrote this as a performance piece for if I ever get back around to that poetry club I used to go to. Might never perform it but *shrugs* maybe someday. 3/14/07 3:02pm This is supposed to be read aloud very fast almost like rapping but with handmovements and speed changes where appropriate. The speed is important because it gives the listener a feeling of disorientation and completion. Follow speed/action cues when reading. (normal speed)Every relationship the same thoughts- - (normal, speeding up to med fast)am I really as beautiful as he says or is it a ploy by another little boy trying to get his game on and score one for the team in the corner with their [cup holding] booze and water making me hot under the collar [pull collar of shirt]. (normal, speeding up)Is he as real as he says or is this just a haze of false hope on which I choke [hold neck] with another toke [universal smoking sign] on the beautiful dreams bong as we sing along to beautiful music [dance fingers in front of eyes] that turns down and dirty really early, (normal, pause at periods for extra beat)and I’m going no. can’t breathe. the air. (med fast)as the world spins with topsy turvy grins and a “you got played” in the back of my brain. (normal, slight pause at commas)But this one, he’s new, he talks of love and help, (hold arms to chest)healing the self, (flex) becoming strong, (prayer hands)please don’t let it be another song with no end I don’t wanna pretend one more time. (cross wrists in front)Tie me in your ropes of truth, see past the battered youth and (cupt hands)hold a treasure in your hands -- not grasping sands and straws like the other thugs, give me a hug and say again that you love me, will be here for me, and help me be strong, (pump fist in air)that I belong! (place rt hand on heart) And I will not wander this land a drifter anymore.

Just putting some of my poetry here to see the emotions it invokes. Comments welcome. Inspired by Sharron Isbin and her live perfomrmance of “Astoria” on N.P.R. 2/9/05 The guitar is the only instrument I can compare thee to. No, not an American song being played, But the Spanish “Astoria”, for this is how your life was: Fast, Forceful, full of energy, And over much too soon. An unexpected ending filled with soft notes And one last quick ditty before slow notes Which seem to stop before time. I often feel as if you are only hiding in the shadows, Ready to spring and prove me the bigger fool to think it’s finished. Yet there are no more notes, Your song ends in an inducement for tears, And I not grasping the request till three days after. At one point you seem so full of life And yet you said your goodbyes to all save me And for that I bleed almost daily… Wondering if you had called would the song have had a few more notes, Or would it have ended even more prematurely? Could I have added a second melody and made you shine, Or would I have only encouraged you to rest for a measure If even that such rapture would I have known. I’m sorry I was not an attentive audience, Sorry I came at intermission, Sorry I seemed only to find a seat backstage Where I could only barely hear if sitting absolutely still. I wish I had been brave enough to sit onstage among your friends; But only a coward drummer am I. And drums have no place in your song… Not now when the music’s disappeared.