lilt Summer sweaty sunday
and a slice of sweet strawberry
sinks slowly out of sight
On a Monday night.
Some seven years slipping
past the souls that you were sipping
sounds silly now to say
so surely you were mine.
Splinken "so i'm dancing with my se-elf oh oh oh dancing with my se-elf" 000620
sim solitary
watching the screen
attached to the system

not until
you start
to talk and laugh
to think and feel
to sing and dance
on what
you realize
in a single moment
you become real
freakizh mystic part of rush's "hemispheres" song. 020708
ashmanzhou i wait in flickering darkness only to be interrupted by my own damned conscience


we scream to the sky why do we have to take all of the downsides of emotion with the feeling i hate it but my hate burns within me why do we have to have this same forsaken dream of being something more than nothing and then be persecuted for our failed hopes
if this is life id rather be dead if this is what it really takes to be human id rather not be part of this uncaring race if this is what faith truly means to others i can assure them that my 'faith' in them and me will not survive this night

if this is what faith means to me i dont want it to be part of me

if this is what some kind of feeling is i feel like some kind of faceless foll within this society which i hate which hates me which is riven by unseeing unfeeli

thats what is about though unfeeling trying so desperately to feel something other than a tattered rag of wasted humanity a dreg of ash swilled in the great fire that every other person stokes to burn me and turn me away from them

ng emotion that is the consecrated soul of the collective 'us' of society that made me me but cant care past scorning me

i wish i could see a face i could lean to in the sea of mouthless beings outside my window i wish i could just scream but they would only glance away embarrassed and wonder why has so disatissfied him so that he thinks he could even be worthy of their holiest of holies their attention which is distracted by such extreme diversions like the colour of their shoes and they walk on to forgetfulness and oblivion

but why complain im happy in my way there isnt anything i could complain specifically about it all just wears away at me and makes me want to feel something that i can say is my own not a manufactured high or an artificial low but a truthful emotion to grasp and cherish but as i sit and stare the only thing i feel is a pain verging on physical

i long to be able to hate myself or someone else again i long to be able to be mad or angry and throw a rant i long to be able to speak with a person to feel what they say makes me feel instead of clawing at second hand emotion that is meaningless to me

ill wait i guess for an eternity until there becomes something really real and then i could be writing something else something that could be summed up in a few words and not be an ungracious outpouring of thoughtless thought

patience never was a virtue
until someone had to wait for something
oldephebe hmmm 030725
oldephebe so many people saying so many things
so many swathes of heteroganaeity
so many soul water streams
infinite choir of babble
conk shell of cacophony
yeah all of that - i like what ash had
to say even felt pricked by it
felt like she'd looked into my heart or at least read one of my oh so self-indulgent wordsprawls here -
make your argument for yourself
clean it all out
s a y e v e r y t h i n g o u t l o u d
someone else said,
"just close your eyes and stop caring for a while"
i just get tired of waking up hollow.
and sure maybe i should learn to be happy with the hollow - yeah -
sodden self pitying streams
it slips from me god self pity is so abhorrent - but as most creative and artistic people balance and exteriorization not something that comes easy - we're all self-obsessed and insecure and ego-centric and want our "gifts" our art our abilities to be validated and then when we're caught in the act we quickly and not so deftly deny this verity - we're all angst without an anchor -
but i fit really well in my cubicle
look just staple a sail to my coffin and send me out to sea
here's another plaintive pointless
anthem of ephebic angst-
well since i don't drink or do drugs
or enter into illicit relationships or use poeple as emotional surrogates and scape goats for my own impotent ire
writing or soliloquy be it by song or
scintillating or sappy salt water streams masquerading as intemperate, verbosity sprawled all over the page -
so soliloquy is all i have i guess
Father Defalco - tell me the things i think about tell me the things I say to my soul about me aren't true - tell me!
bring on that bolt of lightning bisecting me into clarity bring it on1
Hah! For all my posturing i'd probably run like a spring zephyr -
maybe i should sit down at the keyboard later and let my hand play notes they haven't rehearsed - let my yawping verses shimmer and freeze and then fall finally to shatter
good word soliloquy
enough all ready!
ashmanzhou this world is fire and ashes
if i were some romanticised folly
i would scream to the uncaring night
stars take me away from here
or some ridiculously personified
notion to satisfy my innate sense
of romanticism and extrogenous
aching self
damn that
love is dead
love died when i first truly looked at someone else
looked beneath their exterior
to see if they were ever like me
to see if i could ever be like them
to see if the world would accept us
my mistake was trying to feel
something i was incapable of feeling
as if i was pretending to abseil
without ever having a rope
i was sucked in with the layer after intrinsic
layer of self righteousness and charity
of vanity and care
the intricate web of chaotic
hypocritical emotions and traits
and i was ever lost
something i needed never came back
with me from the brink
something i desperately wanted to feel
so hatefully craved was shattered
and i knew that i could not truly
accept the fact that i lacked it
and the person who so casually crushed
that thought went on laughing
as if their life was some sacred
thing i was meant to see in my dreams
and stoicly become a mindless folly
of my own
i could not accept this
i didn't know why they even bothered
trying to talk me down
trying to care but finding themselves
lacking of the thing i had lost
i never spoke to them again
they so casually forgot
and i had nothing left i could see
i could only wait
i only saw them once
when they saw i was capable of feeling pain
but not any form of reason or emotion
and that realisation hurt them as much as
it desensitised me from feeling it
i was content
swimming in and out of lives
other people lived and so graciously
found it in their hearts to share with
me but i never could understand why they
could ever want to
i did not try
i had no will to be
sitting on the outside of a narrowing
world that was dissolving at my fingertips
i longed to end it
bring it crashing down to bloody ruin
but seeing the people rushing by
still filled me with longing
i saw as clearly as i ever did
i did not care enough to make
some kind of hope for others fade
and as mine dwindled to ash i
made them see another side to me
i still sit on the outside of my intrinsic cell
my foot in the door to watch the people go
and i wonder the emotion they feel
i read so many things so charged with feeling
in some vain hope to sap it from them
to fill the void i know
i cannot love it or hate it
i cannot love the world
nor can i see reason to hate it
nor see reason for it to exist
but is only a grey blur
and all reality and unreality swings forth in front my eyes
before i close them
and choose to ignore myself again
because if i open them
the whisper i feel will be gone
ashmanzhou what i feel is of no importance
what is important is that i know the
source of this emotion
and the route to bringing it to be

(i wouldst be surprised
if anyone doth read this
if anyone doth i thankst thee
with what heart i can counterfeit)
nomme and my words would fail me here ashmanzhou
how i would try to tell you how beautiful
oldephebe aah ash, you are a wily wordsmith - i enjoy peeling apart your prose - i enjoy the visceral, the vivid, the verbosity - there are things i read by you that say far more eloquently, authentically whatever it was that i was trying to unwind from my hearts darkest chamber - what you write it's authentic, lyrical an original music
like i said - i can't believe the beautiful things you people write here
what's it to you?
who go