| (no subject) |
[Apr. 11th, 2012|05:56 pm] |
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Pray make me a journal to record all the math i do in my head, the multiplication and algebra and the sublimination of which you are in every equation and the root to every function. Scratch off my answer, I am told god is in the method and not the solution, the secret is the process and not the answer because answers are inevitable. X's and Y's written enough times will spell your name, again and again and again, a plea in the madness of the process, the conductor on the bus gives me a stern look and the ground is hard and unrelenting unlike your fingers cold and clasp against your sleeve. The journalist asks, what is the only thing you would bring to a desert island and my answer is you. For there is beauty is your math and there is terror in my soul, a madness to swim oceans and brave fires to get closer. To be frozen in ice till the age of time travel, so i can lose myself in the calm depts of your soul. When the end comes, pray we go gracefully, your cold hands in mine (cold and trembling) as the sun taketh our last breath |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 11th, 2012|05:38 pm] |
You squeezes the dry leaves for moistures,
for moisture is not what you crave.
in a memory locked away, your face is blurred but your eyes longing
like beaming smiles in padded cells |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 11th, 2012|05:29 pm] |
I see the fleeting guilt and hurt in your eyes
the gleam of once-tears and the path they probably made down your cheeks
streams of quiet bitterness at the world and at yourself
in the rustling leaves i hear you, not your harsh laugh but your soul gentle and soft and trembling |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 11th, 2012|05:17 pm] |
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your smile is a flash of white noise in the silence, carving arcs in my soul. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 28th, 2012|12:21 am] |
Fishing mats and fishing hats
Patient hands and weathered rod
Gurgling brooks and silent rivers
The joy is in the wait but
The fisherman needs his hooks |
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| English Rice Farmer |
[Jun. 17th, 2011|06:12 pm] |
It was one of slow days like any other so i took a cat nap in the afternoon. It was one of those cat naps where you had really vivid dreams, which i was only able to remember because i recounted it alphi the moment I woke up. Since i still can remember exactly it went, i'll recount it down to the slightlest detail.
Scene: rural China, a market place thriving with actibvity with merchants
Enter *Ariel, rice farmer with anonymous manservant pushing rice cart
*Ariel, rice farmer approaches merchant
Ariel: Rice for you, sir?
Merchant, well-groomed and finely dressed, possible royalty : this seems rather expensive
Ariel: It's good rice, you can tell it's exotic if you study rice
Merchant: But I don't study rice
*Merchant deep in thought, brows furrowed*
Ariel: This rice is relly special, a wise rice farmer would always sell rice when nobody is selling rice
Merchant: Then why are you selling rice? Everyone is selling rice now
Ariel: Because i want to sell rice, that's it. I just fucking love to sell my rice
-----
Cut to awareness, semi-bright room of 6:00p.m evening |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 10th, 2011|07:43 pm] |
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We are the glamorous specks of spittle from Paris Hilton's mouth |
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| macarons with tea |
[May. 6th, 2011|02:09 am] |
It was the day the snail made the giant cry
when pink whales came tumbling from the sky
It seemed like it was the right season
for my heart was set free from prison
They say it comes in a blink
and i did certainly fall for that wink
that mischevious gleam
It didn't help that you were slim
And suddenly i brim with cold wet heat
till someone decided to stepped on your feet
and so i let out a little sigh
and tried to contemplate this feeling |
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| pop art |
[May. 6th, 2011|01:46 am] |
Young one your eyes are blank
and glassy, your fingers are twisted
like the gnarled Y-shaped trees
as you wear your victory smile.
The monotony of faces,
smooth and blank and continu-
ous reminds me of poverty-striken villages
from an African documentry.
Young one why do you die so fast, in
between fleeting glimpses of sobriety
and breathtaking architecture? |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 6th, 2011|01:33 am] |
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You're a battery amongst a thousand other batteries waiting to be shipped away and i all i need is a battery. |
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atyf's journal