Calm Down

This is the problem with society today, every little thing is scrutinized and brought to the news only because one or two parents (yes, parents) decide that it is offensive to the entire world. How about you back off for four milliseconds and realize that everything in the world is not offensive, and although we do not know everything about the brain, I can assure you that limiting everything in our world is just as dangerous and limiting nothing.

I write this, in which I normally try to avoid the public realm of politics and pop culture critiques, in regards to Ke$ha, my new pop icon and I am not ashamed to say it. Sure she is autotuned and ¨trash¨ or whatever you want to call her, however, she is a brilliant lyricist who can make you dance while giving you a message. For We R Who We R, her newest entry into pop music dominance, it gives people confidence to not be ashamed of who they are and to embrace themselves while just dancing... more so like they are dumb dumb duh duh duh dumb.

But to continue as to why I am posting this, it is in regards to the title song on her upcoming album Cannibal, which more or less speaks about being a maneater. Now this all sounds grotesque talking about eating flesh and so forth. The lyrics in question by one website is:
"Whenever you tell me I'm pretty/That's when the hunger really hits me/Your little heart goes pitter patter/I want your liver on a platter/Use your finger to stir my tea/And for dessert I'll suck your teeth/Be too sweet and you'll be a goner/Yeah, I'll pull a Jeffrey Dahmer"
The bold part is the controversial one, because one should not reference Jeffrey Dahmer in a song because he was a grotesquely horrific serial killer. Now, since Ke$ha included this in her song, children are going to grow up and be serial killers because it is the cool thing to do and Ke$ha said so. First off, if this was the case, I am pretty sure kids would be murdering everyone with the amount of blood and gore in video games, but I digress.

First off, how about we do not take everything literally? Perhaps I go too liberal on the idea of freedom of speech, but hey, I really do not care. It is metaphors, and if you cannot understand metaphors, then I really have no idea what to tell you. If you truly believe that Ke$ha also wants "your liver on a platter," then really there is no help for you. Artists take controversial things because now you pay attention to them because the world is too hung up on sports and Jersey Shore reruns that the truly intelligent observers are going unnoticed.

Authors, musicians, photographers, artists, etc. are all being minimized to nothingness. Yet they speak of the culture that we are in. Shakespeare and Beethoven are integral parts of our education for a reason. Now I am not saying Ke$ha will be the next Bach that in 300 years people will be learning her in class, but I am also not saying she will not be. You can trash her all she wants but she is getting the attention and connecting to people. I mean, I do not want to generalize but I am pretty sure a lot of people can relate to her song Cannibal, where you take advantage of another person who likes you. I mean, Hall and Oates sang Maneater back in 1982. So this is nothing new, but since she referenced someone who was a serial killer, this is a problem? We play devil's advocate all the time, so I am encouraging satanism right? After all, I am advocating for the devil.

Not to mention, pretty sure regardless of how catchy the song is and how much I relate to the lyrics, if that be the case, I would not actually pull a Jeffrey Dahmer. We should realize that we are not that easily swayed by pop beats and regardless of how you cover it up, Dahmer was a monster. Pretty sure this one song, or thousands of songs like it, would not make people want to physically mimic his atrocities. And again, it is strictly a metaphorical reference.

People, back off of these artists. If you really find it offensive for your kids, I am sorry for them, but just do not play them the song. Wait until they grow up in a few years and you cannot save their ears from hearing gay bashing in the streets, racist remarks at their jobs and sexist slander from their husband or wife. I wonder how they will react to that, or will they just mindlessly conform into society like you did, and do everything that pop culture, news, and those around you say.

To Think... Freely

This is going to be short, since this is just a reminder to myself.

Ellen Degeneres says it best, ¨It is amazing how much time we put into thinking about
what other people are thinking about us.¨

So, why does it all matter anyway? Why do I care if you think I am a meat head, bitch, jackass, or pussy? Why do I care if you think I am hot, ugly, too skinny, too white, too prissy, or too butch? Ultimately, regardless of how I act, whether fake or real, to whomever, they will formulate whatever opinions they have of me, and will react to me accordingly. They will hang out with me more, hang out with me less, talk shit about me, compliment me or just continue nonchalantly in life. All of these things that we worry about have absolutely no affect on our lives, and yet it is a large portion of what we do.

¨I was so embarrassed when I did that!¨ ¨You looked so foolish!¨ ¨Oh my you are so gorgeous¨ ¨You are so smart!¨ Well thanks, but do I feel like that? Was I embarrassed because I did something I normally would not do? Or was it simply because other people had to witness it and therefore since it was socially out of the norm it becomes an embarrassing situation? Do I feel like I am actually smart and can solve any problem? Do I feel sexy?

The final question I always need to ask myself, do I regret anything I do? Do I feel cute or sexy or ugly when I look in the mirror or at myself? How do I feel about myself? Because in the end, my opinion is the one I have to live with forever.

Klö

Klö.
Ä-twill gö ösëbläs
Räpä ix´gö desérkkön.

Klö.
Ä-böxösen ëp-láxnë-wa óver lïläs
Gö ösëbläs nä desér ándä.

Klö.
Ä-sertic gö äligrësen shö rïngsen
Ä-sertic gö barë shö zönk

Klö.
Ä-rägëasen öträb ix´rägëasen
Ä-fónkkër nä óä redölës

The Beach

The dark sky engulfs us at night, while we lie there on the beach sand staring at the stars and forming new constellations with our imaginations and pointer fingers. I look at you, bewildered at the notion that perhaps the stars do form a pattern instead of just that one bright attention grabber. I smile, looking at your cute puzzled face as if to ask me, ¨Why are we looking at the sky?¨ I know the only reason you ask though is because I pointed out the fading triangle in the corner of the sky, but I still love to see your face as I explain some wild imaginative world and try to bring you to its surface.

The waves crashed closely to our feet. The water was cold compared to the humid, muggy our surrounding our faces. My toes were not bothered by the shift from dry and warm to wet and cold, but you seemed to shrivel every time a wave crashed towards us. Again, I smiled at your discomfort. It is not because I am evil and marvel in your feelings of uneasiness, but simply because I realize more and more your intricacies. It is these moments of unspoken nerves, fears and wonder that awaken senses within myself.

The night sky continually turned to darker shades of an already pitch black, and the waves crashed with a louder roar than when we first sat ourselves in the sand. I look at you one more time, hands behind your head looking to the triangular star formation I pointed out earlier. I want to lean in to kiss you, but resist the urge for a moment more, and ask you what has the possession of your mind.

We argue. Nothing big, but we argue. Matters of opinions, views on the world and politics of sorts. The waves tickle the soles of our feet and the horizon become blurred in itself with darkness. You win your case while lying and staring towards the crescent moon, who was overseeing our discussion. And I, worried now, look up towards the lit sky. The stars shifted in many directions, so we reconstruct the city of lights we built earlier from triangles, into rectangles and pentagons now. We look at our new world for a moment, until it shifts once more, destroying the work we just created.

We stand up, sand still attached to our clothing like Velcro, without any ability to wipe it off with ease. You look into my eyes and I light up like a midnight star. We begin to walk on the shore, staying a far distance from the crashing waves. When we arrive at the boardwalk, I look out one more time to the ocean and sky combined into a masterpiece painted right before me. I look at you, as you smile at me. I smile back.

If you were a toilet...

If you were a toilet I´d shit in your mouth
And if you lived in the north, I´d live in the south,
And if you were a pillow I´d set you on fire,
Or if I were driving you´d be under my tire.

If you were tissue, I´d blow through your center,
And you´d be the student and I´d be your mentor
If you were a tree I´d chop you down,
And if you were swimming I´d hope that you´d drown,

I´d kick your balls if we played soccer,
And after the game shove you in a locker,
If you were a rug, I would rub mud in your face,
And if you looked at me I´d spray you with mace.

It is not that I´m mean, or simply a bitch,
It is all your fault for being a witch,
You made an enemy, whether you know it or not,
But soon you´ll remember that you never forgot.

The Moment

each long stem rose passed from your hand to mine,
i threw into the vase like dirty laundry in the wash,
and i continually saw them wither and die,
as your eyes grew weary from the decrepit drooping flowers.

i caressed you. it is okay i would whisper, while thinking
in my head about the dinner that was to come, your treat.
i kissed your cheek with my dry, chapped lips,
which you claimed gave your supernatural abilities.
i would just ignore your crazy talk, and smile,
thinking of the steak i was to receive, free of charge.

every hour you would tell me how your smile stretched your face
and that my fingers were the ones that pushed it.
so i sat with open arms to welcome your gentle touch
that gave me warmth in the cold chills of the night,
since the fireplace stopped working.

and now, without warning of occurrence, the roses
began to flourish, and my vase could no longer contain them.
your smile and eyes brightened my gloomy world that was,
and brought light to a dark moon night.
i shall capture that shine in the vase with my roses
and carry it with me throughout the rest of my life


"Love is a word that is only four letters long, yet is a feeling more than an eternity long."

Style

You comb your hair
With gel in hand
Wearing Hollister
Feet in the sand
People are staring
Wishing to be
Wrapped in your arms
Watching the sea
Your swagger amazing
Waves crashin´ for you
World rotating to showcase
Your awesome debut
Sun shining upon you
For you to get tanned
You´re number one, dude,
In your own little land.

We Fight

It is the 21st Century, which
welcomes the wise words of the people
who raise their voices and proclaim that
they are correct, for they are the loudest,
although not articulating exactly through words
the reason of their boisterous tone. But note
that the screams of uneducated blabber
are only the result of the decade,
since now the only way to be noticed in the peaking
population is by causing a ruckus through sound.
No one looks at silence anymore with glistening eyes,
yet rather with scorn, for the silent life passes
without a wink from any passer-by.
So instead they throw in profanities,
fuck and shit, to show the reason they should be considered
the victor with stunning erudition beyond the capacity of
any other normal twenty first century drone.
For now the competition is not to logically deduce,
but to creatively incorporate the vulgarity of our society.
The world has changed, as inevitably it will, from
free flowing eloquence to violent screaming idiocy.
And the only way to survive the badgering,
is to be able to reciprocate.
The 21st century embraces the noise, rupturing ear drums,
pounding malediction and sly manipulation of sound,
entwined within every generation.

Póg mo Thóin

Sorry I am not your perfect model walking down the street
wind tossing my hair slightly over to the side with
paparazzi snapping photos of me the entire time screaming
¨Perfect! Perfect! One more,¨ with their eyes caressing my
toned muscular physique up and down. I cannot even play the part of
half-witted pretty boy while dressed up in an expensive tuxedo,
nor bathing suit while dripping wet.
I am not even allowed to their exclusive meetings where
they sit around a table of mirrors talking about how to become
even more of a masterpiece of walking beauty. I broke the mirrors
as soon as I slammed the door behind me. And forever they have held
that grudge against me. ¨Do not take his picture!¨ a yell from
the sky would announce, ¨He is not worthy.¨
I do not know if I am truly upset when the rain pours on me
and I sit there like a sad wet homeless dog wallowing in my
own self-pity. My bony limbs jutting out like a bare tree, stripped
of its colorful autumn leaves. I am barren, as the models parade
one by one behind each other as to not blind the public with
a horizontal row of allurement.
Oh the shame I bring myself with the inability to walk like an Adonis,
and my only quality of an intelligent conversation.

I have no reason to make sense

I have no reason to make sense
just as much as a monkey has reason
to throw his shit all over the place.
Do I need to explain myself like a
hippo on roller skates?
Or can the public finally accept the idea
that perhaps the saltines I ate last night
have engulfed my entire intestines?
Does every little aspect of living on Planet X
need to coincide with something in the normal realm?
I only question the questions of questioning
because the answers of answering seem to answer themselves,
so please. When I see the clock is midnight
and you ask me to come in five minutes
expect me at one in the afternoon.
Because the sun sets differently in my house,
since the sparrows flew backwards in the summer.

I have no need to rhyme

I have no need to rhyme,
for I am in prime time for
dirt and grime to simply
sublime with the sound of a
chime.

There is not reason at all,
for me to recall or squall
Crawl or climb a tall wall,
in order to enthrall or stall a
brawl.

You see for my style is new,
without screw or glue,
a true blue clue to who?
My overdue debut and please, do not
misconstrue

that the words I choose
are simply to abuse, confuse or infuse
my right to refuse the bruise and blues hues
of our views and overrun ourselves with
shoes.

I told you I have no need to rhyme
For the words I mime climb to the prime
and stop on a dime.

You say...

You say I speak with such eloquence
that I drown myself in my own saliva,
the freight carrying these flowery words sinking
towards the depths of an abyss.
You say I speak not to say something
but to fill the vacuous space with
information just as empty,
uncomprehending and unreasoning.
You say I float with my words
like a butterfly sliced by the arms of a praying mantis,
fluttering down with the wind
and landing delicately on the sharps blades of grass.
You say that I have no substance
to what I refer nor to what I claim to be,
and my mind a vacuum with no release.
I say, Fuck you.

Next

Start
Has it come this bad? Really? That
Next
even the internet
Next
has become part of the elitist, subjective
Next
mess that we can not even become porn stars anymore since
Next
No
Next
Not anyone
Next
even cares to look at you as
Next
Next
Next
they are too worried about there own attention that regardless
Next
of how hard you try you cannot even try to distract a person away from themselves. That the safe haven that I had
Next
is moving past my own generation to the
Next
Oops. Oh well, I mean, what I am trying to say is the connectivity that once was
Next
is being destroyed by the shallowness and isolation
Next
that was created by its very self. Thanks, hahahahahaha oh man!
Next
Thank you for being as shallow as a kiddie's pool
Next
This is worthless.
Close

Procrastination

Well, this is pleasant. I sometimes believe that I forget I have a blog, and I when I want to write something I think to myself, ¨now if only I had a place to write all of my thoughts down." Go figure. However, as the title of this suggests, I am completely avoiding doing my homework at this very moment, in order to express, not so ironically, my detest for just that. However, after thinking for a little bit, then going on YouTube, then Facebook, then looking at my almost completely blank word document page, then back to Facebook, I realized, well every normal student is experiencing the same exact thing I am experiencing, a blog about that would simply be boring. Duh. But then I realized it, I can talk about my personal experience with it, using personification and symbolism and junk to make it a more-specific-to-me story that everyone can relate too. However, not everyone is going to relate to this story and perhaps a majority of you will not really understand anything I am remotely alluding to. Oops. Well anyway, I still want to type it out, because it is better than typing out the work that is due in two days, or better yet, stuff due tomorrow.

A few years ago I ran into someone named Español. It was a brief encounter, in fact, I learned very little about him. I think I was able to ask his age, but our communication to each other was very basic and consisted of things along the lines of, ¨how are you¨ and the generic response ¨I am good.¨ One day, I remember distinctly, he said, ¨I am tree stay.¨ I really had no idea what that meant, but I patted him on the back and said, ¨I stay in a home.¨ After that brief encounter, we were supposed to meet a few more times, however, in reality, I really just learned about other people who knew him such as Picasso, Dalí and Cervantes, who were all best friends of Español, who later just became known as Span. I never really understand anything about Span, but the other people seemed to find him amusing and used him as inspiration for their popularity and fame. Regardless, I thought I would never have to exploit him like that, so after high school, Span and I parted ways.
In college, it turned out he would meet with me again in a weird, crazy mixed up kind of way. In fact, it was mandatory that I met with him once more. Without hesitation though, I decided to say, ¨Hello¨ once more. We grew insanely close that year and I began to appreciate Span more and considered him a close part of my life. In fact, I listened to his music, read his poems, and tried to speak with him on a more in-depth level. We became so close, that my college experience is now revolving around him and everything associated with him. I revisit his former friends that I once took for granted, and continue to view him in various forms. Span became an incredible friend of mine, but at times, I feel like Span does not understand me as much as I do not understand him.
We have our quarrels, sometimes too frequently during a week, and he constantly tells me that he has no idea what I am trying to say. People who have known Span since they were babies cannot even fathom what mess of syntax is being vomited out of my mouth. I hear it all the time, ¨I do not understand what you are trying to say.¨ Over and over. Span just looks at me with disappointment, ¨I thought we were friends,¨ he whispers, ¨I thought we were going to take it to the end.¨
I do not back out on my promise to Span, as he intrigues me too much to leave him now, deserted on a peninsula far away as he fights for his freedom here my hometown as well. I still adore him. I cannot express enough of my admiration. However, I continually get ostracized and punished by his other companions and even him, to the point where my beaten spirit is becoming too dampened with defeat to even see the dryness of success.
Span and I were hanging out last night when I was trying to survive the earthquake of errors I was making in my homework. He looked at me, with the eyes so darkened red with both rage and disappointment, that I could not help but fall limp to the destruction that ensued. Punch after punch by Span´s fists dropped me to the floor, bleeding a yellow and red river of conquest... I was conquered.
Span left me in that room, darkened by the moonlight shielded by the blinds. He whispered in my ear something audible but untranslatable to me. His all-encompassing body hovered over me as my eyes cried for help and understanding. "Sorry," he spoke loudly and clearly, walking his size 330 million feet over my body and out the open door. I whimpered, "Help me. I do not understand what you are trying to say."
Now although the experience left me broken and bruised, I still spoke to Span today to figure out what I can do about everything that is happening in my life and all of the aspects that he is included in, but our conversation was left inconclusive. I do not know how I am going to survive my life with Spanny, as I have begun to call him, but I do not know how I am not going to survive with him either. As much as I try, I do not think I will ever be able to compare to his friends that he has known since the beginning of time, and they all know it.

I Caught ...

I caught myself a fish,
And I did not need no help,
But then after I threw it back,
I only caught some kelp.

I caught myself a butterfly,
With the help of my trustee net.
I caught myself the football,
To win the game I will never forget.

I caught a ball in soccer,
But the ref blew the whistle,
And then I caught my puppy,
While she ran into the thistle.

I caught the train before it left,
I caught a break at last,
I caught someone looking at me,
And winked as we passed.

I caught every thing I wanted to,
And things were too good to be true,
That was, at least, until my brother came home,
And then I caught the flu!

I bought an extra pillow

I had two pillows,
As you know,
And two was quite enough.

But once I started dreaming,
I dreamt,
That I was made of fluff.

So of course I needed
just one more,
To be a bigger sheep.

But just as I bought it,
I woke up,
And realized I was just asleep

You will see it when you believe it

Dear Mr. Armstrong,

Oh, what a world we live in! To need to respond to you in this very manner, seems very archaic. Who would have believed that even the word ¨letter¨ would not follow the path of extinction like the dinosaurs? For certain I believed the word would have no meaning since ¨formal complaint¨ surfaced. Perhaps I am simply floating in a dream world.

As you can probably tell, I am writing in response to your concern about the health care crisis that is occurring in the United States of America. Primarily, I would like to assure you that everything is going to settle itself and the world will be able to rest once more. But I will more specifically go into the points that you make in your formal complaint.

You state that, ¨our world is being violently destroyed into a gaga travesty of what once was. People simply just do not care like they used to.¨ To this claim, I respond with a quick anecdote for you, to assure you that simply is not the case.

I was playing video games with my friend just last weekend, when we began to quarrel about who won. It was obvious that I was victor, as according to the television screen before us had the words, ¨YOU WIN¨ in capitalized letters. Obviously there was no question of defeat. Yet in some twisted version of the words, he claimed that the only thing I had won was ¨a trip to the doctor´s office.¨ He then began to swing his fist towards my face. With a quick dodge to the left, I almost escaped his rocketing fist. However, I lain on the tile floor clutching in my hand my bleeding eye.

So quickly I rush myself to the emergency room to see what could possibly done to fix my drooping eye, for which I obviously kept covered with my hand as to not scare the locals with a black and blue battle wound. As you can tell, I was obviously careful in what I exposed to public, as I was concerned that I might frighten them with my now grotesque appearance. The nurse looked at me, and asked me to remove my hand from my eye, which I objected to for I did not wish to scare her. She claimed my condition would only worsen if she was unable to diagnose what problem I had. I told her several times that my eye was beaten in and that is all she needed to know. She shook her head and told me to sit down over there, as she pointed to a chair next to this teenage boy, and said ¨wait there until I call your name.¨

I strolled over to the teenager, who glared at me and then looked back down at his media player. I sat down and whispered, ¨What are you here for?¨

¨Mind your own business, Horus¨ he muttered, which I thought was odd at the time since my name is not Horus. However, I realized he was referencing the Egyptian god Horus because of my eye.

¨I am sorry, sir,¨ I kindly replied. ¨But I was simply wondering of your ailment, so perhaps I could ease your worries about what is going to happen to you in the hospital behind those closed doors.¨

¨I already know what is going to happen to me. I am going to be killed and fed to the cows on Old McDonald´s Farm so that everyone else can enjoy a good burger made with me.¨ The teen seemed perturbed at my efforts to help.

¨Now sir, you do know that nothing like that happens.¨ I looked at him, as he stared back at me.

¨Why are you holding your eye?¨ he questioned.

¨Well you see, I was playing video games...¨ and I continued to tell him the entire story.

The teen turned to me, paused his music and said, ¨Video games? You are like 233 years old. Shouldn´t you be, doing, work?¨

¨Sir, I am not nearly that old I assure you, but I am retired. Playing games is what keeps me seeming young.¨ I returned his banter, and he shrugged it off and went back to his music. I looked down at his screen, seeing the lists of artists that he mindlessly hummed along with. I smiled, and turned my eye to the other direction, staring at the nurse behind the desk.

She nodded and asked me to come through the doors and I accepted. She patted me on the back and the doctor made me read the letters from the eye chart. He was a nice doctor, about forty five years old but I could tell his license was about to expire, so I questioned him on it, seeing as I was trying to help him not lose it completely. He smiled and turned to his nurse and nodded, and she subsequently left us alone. We had a quick discussion, and he kindly allowed my surgery to be completely free.

So you see, people do care about other people and the world is not becoming a ¨travesty¨ of what once was. Just watch any television news station and you will see that although there is always news, you should just be happy that there is news. Because a world without it would mean the utter destruction of our society as we know it.

So relax, Mr. Armstrong and enjoy the rest of your day. The health care crisis will settle itself when it needs to. And you will see it when you believe it. Just realize that the world is not out to get you, and there are people that will help you out, and you will not even need to ask.

Just dance, Mr. Armstrong, it will be okay.

Signed,
Invictus Maneo

Blank

I wanted to write about you.
My mind went blank
But I was determined to say something,
and I did...
And I know it does not say much
but I tried

You are amazing.
You make me smile,
when I simply cannot fathom happiness,
and in the time of crisis,
worry and fear,
as the odds stacked against you,
you made me laugh.
I can never express to you
what it means to be elated with the world,
that I am so fearful of stepping into.
You took this challenge
and I cannot express my gratitude.
You are amazing.
Never forget this

My mind drew a blank yet again
which it frequently does
and I wish I could express every feeling of euphoria I have
that is because of you...
But I simply have no words

I wasn't paying attention

Vince: I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention
Rebeka: I said I never thought that you would think of me like that.
Vince: Like what?
Rebeka: Like what you said you thought I was.
Vince: What did I say you were like?
Rebeka: ... I'm not sure I wasn't paying attention, but I knew it was bad.
Vince: But I never said anything bad
Rebeka: Yeah, you said like, I was a smoking alcoholic that just sluts around and shows her body to the world
Vince: I would never say that
Rebeka: Well you said something along those lines.
Vince: But you do not even smoke. Or drink.
Rebeka: Which is why I was confused when you said that about me.
Vince: I'm sorry what? I wasn't paying attention.
Rebeka: I was confused.
Vince: Why?
Rebeka: Because you called me a smoking alcoholic.
Vince: No I never did.
Rebeka: Do not lie to me like that. I heard you with my own ears.
Vince: But I really never said it. I said you were smoking hot and after all these calls it seems like you are a slut, but I know you aren't because you are intelligent and independent and do not need to resort to things like that.
Rebeka: I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, did you call me a smoking slut?
Vince: What? No.
Rebeka: Yes you did, I just heard you.
Vince: But I did not say that!
Rebeka: What did you say?
Vince: I forgot. But it wasn't that.
Rebeka: What did you forget how bitchy you just were to me? Short term memory?
Vince: No, no. That is not it at all. I just forgot what I said exactly.
Rebeka: Just try to repeat the basic idea of what you just said to me again, I'm sure you could be able to do that and this way I would feel better about myself knowing that you at least were not being so incredibly heartless towards me and my feelings.
Vince: I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. You want me to do what to you?
Rebeka: I don't want you to do anything to me! I said you should repeat what you said as best as you can so that I could feel better about myself.
Vince: You want to feel yourself?
Rebeka: I want to feel good.
Vince: I can try to make you feel good but I don't know how this is going to make you feel better.
Rebeka: I don't want you to make me feel good!
Vince: I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, why don't you want me to make you feel good? You want to remain upset at me?
Rebeka: No that is not the case at all.
Vince: What case?
Rebeka: The situation at hand.
Vince: Oh that's right, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention.
Rebeka: Can you at least apologize?
Vince: For what?
Rebeka: For what you said.
Vince: What did I say?
Rebeka: That I am not good enough for you.
Vince: I'm sorry I said that. I don't know why I would even say that because I think you are beautiful, absolutely stunning really. And there is nothing in the world I would not do to make you smile at least for a moment. You deserve to smile.
Rebeka: I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention, what did you say?

I can't help...

I can't help to think that everywhere I go, someone probably jizzed there. Now I am not trying to be crude or anything like that, but when I just think about everywhere in the world and how many people there are, I think about how in every public domain there must be stains upon stains of sexual defiance, maybe not defiance but it sounds like a stronger word than anything else I could think of. Then I dare not even mention the private houses and the amount those are covered in.

Now, let me just say that even if there is absolutely no evidence of sex occurring in a particular area, due to the two people being incredibly neat and tidy about their activity, that it still does not pardon the idea that there was just two people naked there. Or masturbating. Desks, tables, vending machines, buildings, sidewalks, trees, park benches, tennis courts, etc. They all have to have been used for this in one way or another.

Sitting in college housing only perpetuates the idea that there is cum everywhere. I mean, the thousands of young adults that have ran rampant through here the past few decades surely have made their mark permanently on the mattress of time. And again, I am not trying to be weird, gross, or awkward, just stating a thought process that I feel should not be censored by human's minds. I mean, sex is just another part of human nature. To call this subject matter taboo seems a little counterintuitive.

Just homes, in general, are filled with evidence of sexual activities. And when someone buys someone else's home, I can only imagine if they had this thought process what they would think. I mean, they are buying someone else's messes.

It seems to me that this is the great equalizer here on earth as well. I could go to an airport bathroom where both the janitor, pilot and CEO of the company could all have done their business. And do not try the defense that people do not "perform" such "actions" in public places, because, we know that would be an immense lie. But it just seems funny. I want to put a black light up to the world and just view the stains we have left upon this planet.

Now I am not, by any means or stretch of the imagination, calling us creatures of diminishing grace or ones that should be ashamed of ourselves. In fact, I am praising us for how effective we are at doing so, and how creative we are to utilize all of the objects we have in our possession to be happy. It just makes me wonder if we are doing better than the history that made its mark before us.

The World a Stage

kanufixit_33: Uh-oh, warning.
profpants69: wut now?
kanufixit_33: Bitch alert, coming at full speed ahead... please evacuate the building if possible, or take cover in a safe place far from breakables and blunt, heavy objects.
profpants69: wut the fuk now?
kanufixit_33: I am just warning you that Jess is livid with you.
profpants69: livid dude? rly? jus say mad.
kanufixit_33: Okay, she wants to kick the shit out of you, better?
kanufixit_33: If I were you, I'd shut off your phone and just hide in bed for the next ... decade or so.
profpants69: i dun understand her pro.
profpants69: dont cheat on my best frend like i dun see this bein a hard concept to undrstand
kanufixit_33: True but was it necessary to post it around the town?
profpants69: fuk ya. my status on fb says it all too
profpants69: "jess, you a ho, have fun with your diseases."
kanufixit_33: A tad bit unnecessary no?
profpants69: not at all in fact i think i was too nice on her
kanufixit_33: Oh yeah, publicly professing promiscuity of a girl you have little connect to other than your best friend was dating her.
kanufixit_33: Ever think about how it affects him?
profpants69: it doesnt he did not cheat on her, she cheated on him.
profpants69: h/o fone

profpants69: she is the biggest bitch on the planet
kanufixit_33: You seemed fine with her before she cheated on Sanz
profpants69: bc she was cool then
profpants69: now she is a skank
profpants69: with clamidia or however the fuck you spell that
kanufixit_33: I think you should back a little bit off of her dude.
profpants69: i think you shuld get the fuck on her shit
profpants69: y arent you "livid" at her
profpants69: u are friends with Sanz too
kanufixit_33: Sure, what I think she did is disrespectful and awful but, I was not dating her, Sanz was.
profpants69: yea and u are sanz friend
kanufixit_33: Yeah, but I also know he can handle this situation without my bashing of her.
profpants69: dude you have to make him feel better, and wut other way other then make fun of a cheating whore?
kanufixit_33: Oh I don't know, reassuring him that things will hurt but time heals all.
profpants69: that is the stupidest thin i ever hear
profpants69: heard*
profpants69: regardles he obvi needs to just get over the dumb bitch
kanufixit_33: All I am saying is that this is a bit ridiculous that everyone is up in arms and facebooking this shit like it is the next nuclear war. People cheat on people. It is a harsh cruel fact about dating and life. Welcome to the age of 50% divorces.
profpants69: w/e dude
profpants69: you need to realize that this world is too short not to have fun with it
kanufixit_33: And you need to realize that life is too short to make huge ordeals about everything that happens.
kanufixit_33: Maybe if the sun blew up and we had 8 minutes to live, I would suggest you write that on a facebook status
kanufixit_33: "we have 8 minutes until we die!! Bitches Ho Fuckfaces!"
kanufixit_33: that is how you go about writing it right?
profpants69: wut is yur prob
profpants69: help a friend and stop being a pansy
kanufixit_33: What is your problem? Stop butting into other people's ordeals!
profpants69: ordeals
profpants69: your a tool
kanufixit_33: and you're* an idiot
kanufixit_33: People talk and talk and talk. They sit around gossiping like nothing else in the world matters except the world of drama. The world is a stage, they say, because I am so smart and I quote Shakespeare. We are all players, they say, and I want to have the most interesting life
kanufixit_33: but when my mundane life of ordinary stops short, I must create more melodrama using other people as bait for my horrendous and malicious plots against humanity
profpants69: umm talk about melodrama
kanufixit_33: You know what, drop it. I'm here for Sanz, but where were you when all of this happened?
profpants69: ....
kanufixit_33: Oh, that's right. Banging his girlfriend. But true, I am not here for him, you are.
kanufixit_33: Change that facebook status from Jess to Chris, you mess.
profpants69: ....
profpants69: dude what the fuck are you talkin about? i ddid not bang jess
kanufixit_33: Really? That is not what Jess is saying.
profpants69: r u serious?
profpants69: do you think I would?
profpants69: the bitch is trying to get back at me
kanufixit_33: I got to go. Enjoy your night.

Slase II

I am trying not to make this a consistent thing ... but sometimes I cannot help but write in Slase.


Ix'täönï jä umákkë bóyant ä-köx, räpa sëya-pïëk ix´täbaun tróniltï. Nïnä ë-kkëalësen, täönï jä umákkë, raxpü täböxö vin, hïwap ... täböxö skwig win ya-sanë pïëkö ë-zä vintö. Ix´täönï puräsä cöm ä-krököant, hï tääkkä böxönös ëp óv tïfän. Täjä hïwapblö, shö ëpjä töt. Täjä vinnö ë-ya öxawä shö täjä hïwapblö. Ix´täjä gugartï, óvjä ya-pöüs win zä-hïwapsen. Tädejüt ix´täpuräsä raru, shö täües ya-älö müdëus täbaun öd... jä tävin shö täjä hïwap.


=)

The Shortest Poem

the shortest poem
that i can write
about the way i feel
towards you

may only be
a few short words
but they mean more
than what i can do

for actions are nice
and kind and polite
but sometimes
you misconstrue

but nothing
can confuse you
when i whisper
i love you

Just Me

You have the most amazing eyes,
I know that I have told you before,
but I cannot help but stare into them,
completely entranced by the hue.

And your smile, is a perfect art,
with da Vinci´s immaculate precision
drawn upon your smooth skinned face,
and the envy of all Greek gods.

The arms of complete comfort,
legs of lengthening beauty,
and hair as free as untamed horses,
the embodiment of a marbled hero

And my friends always ask me,
why I think you are so gorgeous,
but I always think it is obvious,
with just one glance at your face.

Maybe it is just me.

Failed Sonnet

Sonnet I

Another wasted winter morning sleep
without a kiss upon my frozen cheek.
For you, my love, do not you count the sheep,
Before engaged in promptly what you seek.

The day does seem so monotone and long
with winds of torment chilling human bone
No flame nor fire could provoke such song
between my heart and head, neither alone

The winter day is doubly frigid cold
Without the sun's relieving touch an' glow
And night forgets your beauty does behold
more warmth than a thousand stars could bestow

Enwrap, entice, be my warm able crutch
And please enlighten my numb fingers' touch

Shakespeare

I am not Shakespeare,
No sonnets do my pens scribble,
craft perfectly,
nor contain words that make your heart melt.
And never do I tell stories
as romantic and epically charming
as Romeo and Juliet.

Not in newspapers, magazines or textbooks
will you find my poetry,
nor will my name grace the world
outside the realm of my friends.
For my words remain as mundane
as the daily household chores we slave,
and as trivial as the food we consume.

No singing of mine is in perfect pitch,
nor will it make you blush a scarlet red,
and I have trouble expressing all
my feelings, thoughts,and sentiments,
And although I know I am far from flawless,
and that no Shakespeare am I,
there is thing I can finally say:

"Your smile is the most gorgeous thing
I have ever seen in my life."

Not elegantly put, nor beautifully rehearsed,
as raw as working hands,
and colloquial is an understatement,
of what has just been said,
but your smile has captured me in silence,
that my lips can no longer eloquently utter
the eloquence of your existence.

The Prince

There is a prince,
Who sits in his room reading tales,
of love and romance,
written at the beginning of time,
with faeries, dragons and evil witches.

He reads them frequently,
For several hours each and every day,
up in his room,
only stopping to eat and sleep,
to dream of the life fighting dragons and witches.

Never does he grow tired,
of the same storyline every hour,
with a gallant knight,
fighting the fire breathing monster,
in order to be with his fair maiden.

He is lost in this world,
imagining himself the protagonist,
slaying mercilessly for his one true love,
who unquestionably loves him back,
and they live happily ever after.

He dreams his own novel,
in his mind he fought,
day in and day out to win the heart,
of the girl behind the wooden door,
screaming pleas and cries of help.

There is a prince,
sitting in the room that I stare at,
reading by candlelight the tales of the past,
envisioning himself a part of it,
and I scream pleas and cries of help.

He is my prince,
head in his books,
reading about the love of his life,
who waits for his sweeping hug,
and I stand with arms wide open.

Realization III

you made me realize...
... that the world spins inevitably ...
... and that even without you i would not fly off ...
... because you are not holding me to the ground...
... even if i want you to...
... because you are not the source of my existence ...
... like the air i breathe or water i drink ...
... but just the nectar which sweetens it ...

you made me realize...
... that i can live without you ...
... although i cannot imagine that world ...
... the roses would still smell ...
... to me of your distant memory ...
... and the wind still would whisper ...
... the words that no longer escape your lips ...
... but i would be alive ...

you made me realize...
... there are other people in the world ...
... although your eyes are the most entrancing ...
... and when one door closes another shall open ...
... yet not to your house ...
... so the future inevitably will come ...
... with or without you ...
... with my smile still in your palm ...

you made me realize...
... i will never be alone even if you go ...
... "your friends," you whisper ...
... and the earth will not spontaneously combust ...
... the feeling would burn though ...
... nor will it freeze over to a barren arctic wasteland ...
... and i will be strong ...
... because you are not everything in my life ...

you made me realize...
... my body will function the same before and after you ...
... for you are not a drug nor disease ...
... and the pain only stings for a moment ...
... like the prick of a needle ...
... and soon i will forget the pain i felt ...
... but never that it was caused to me ...
... because the past is important to who i am today ...

you made me realize...
... that even though i can't write romantically ...
... with the blood in my faltering fingers ...
... you still believe in me ...
... and love me just the same ...
... kiss my cheek before i pass out on your side of the bed ...
... because i was so comfortable having you hold me ...
... and i dream of being awake in your arms once more ...

you made me realize...
... i really do not want anyone else ...
... just you ...
... to spoil, to kiss, to hold deep into the darkness ...
... where the horizon meets the drop ...
... so we can fly into the oblivion that is strength...
... of heart and soul ...
... as one complete being because ...

you made me realize...
... that when you are with me ...
... i think of nothing else ...
... and everything you made me realize before ...
... i completely forget ...
... and i fly off the world and into your arms ...
... and breathe you in like oxygen ...
... because i cannot live this world without you ...

Slase

Why I even maintain the idea that I have a blog when I blatantly no longer write in it is beyond me, but regardless, it gives me a place to write when I want to.... unfortunately for the normal English speaking world ... this blog is not for you ...


Täthërm ëp ix´täjä fëan, desï, täjä lë sin-öxawäs... shö täthërm erëjä lulektons nä sönëas fëanel nüfex tä. Öt, täthërm ëp ix´täjä ya-rekkóöp köx sësö. Räpa... yuna tääkkä ëx böxönö ëp ix´täjä bóstun skwig win pil-sönëas. Quä täänï... täëyö täjä kkïwönöblö. Süd, täönï ä-köx nïikbaun ës pás zä kröcösen, shö nóyaun täjä pütra shö krökö rëek tätemë sönëas. Täjä kkérëfrän, täjä kröcö, ix´tägugaruf, räpa täjä pëaur shö kamef. Täjä patïblö, tääkkä ä-trëpö máér. Täthërm täÿpäuf ¨tek¨ ansö, räpa ix´täönï önïvö, klö quä ix´óvönï grësöñë. Tähösum. Klö tï óvänï zä kröcösen, óvbaun äkkätï. Ya-redölë winvö jä öt-mar winquä ix´ö-äkkä.


Yup.

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