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| counter - 2.6.07
when plans laid soft and laid with care
and pawns finessed all into place
align not straightaway and fare,
compounding always, as disgrace;
when solemn thought and meditation
(just as water flows o'er falls)
give way to deed and dedication
which, nonetheless, give way to pall;
when endless striving comes undone
and effort doesn't make the grade
when knowledge someone else has won
twice strikes you (loss and guilt for hate)
the every motion that is made -
attempts to mend the mournful mess -
and every thought of loss repaid
all end in 'ell with no egress:
at times the stars themselves array
to throw back down attempts, in vain,
to make of misery a day,
instead, for music when there's rain
make no mistake, nor mar intention -
struggles still should strong be made
to temper tears and break convention;
answer all arrears unpaid
but path-seek not unto perfection
else, upon yourself, inflict
the merciless lessons and directions -
life will strike e'en when you're licked. | | |
| Arise - 10.05.06
The light plays through the leaves like shafts of heat
and shade provides, this time, a welcome ease.
No darkness of the heart comes through the beat
of life, slowed down, the better for the trees;
the note of which has import more than art
perceivable by sight ere mind begins
to search the scene for smaller, subtle parts
without which art would not, attention, win.
But note of life supplies not sweat and tears,
and motion ever proves a lack of death,
so, while you can, enjoy your meager years
and wring emotion out 'til your last breath.
And should doubt question measurements of salt,
recall that pain defines e'en as it halts.
(The final version of my sonnet for English.)
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| Awake - 10.03.06
The light plays through the leaves like shafts of heat
and shade provides, this time, a welcome ease.
No darkness of the heart comes through the beat
of life, slowed down, the better for the trees.
(The note of which has import more than art
that comes by way of sight sans any in.
of wonder for the smaller, lesser parts
without which art would not, attention, win.)
But note of life supplies not everything,
and motion gives assurances of life,
so be, if not quick to wake and take wing,
at least accepting of the final knife.
And if the knife is not the path you'd take,
Then rouse ere you cannot fix the mistake.
(yeah, this one's for english, hence iambic pentameter, ababcdcdefefgg, 1st 2 quatrains w/ conflict and 3rd quatrain + couplet w/ resolution)
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| dedication - 7.16.06
every day after day, the sweat drips down
and the look on his face becomes more a frown
and the strain doesn't matter and he'll never give up
because whatever he does, it'll never be enough
without thanks, or a smile, or a motherfucking glance
without a single word, and god forbid romance
isolated, all alone, but proud nonetheless
he pushes hard and harder with every single breath
how many countless hours and how many wasted days
did he let pass by before he learned his perfect ways?
gotta push some more, gotta make it all up
gotta make it all better, gotta never mess up
gotta use all he's got, and get all he needs
gotta wake up in the morning and get up off his knees
(where he fell last night, cause he never gave up -
cause he kept on trying to beat himself (up))
and the drive that he's got has to get him to the front
and the hunger that's inside must be used to fuel the hunt
and the emptiness is nothing and there's no tears on the pitch
no emotions, just your enemies, and no relationships
so he pushes, day by day, and he strengthens his resolve
and every time he fails, he gets back up to be absolved
and the grimace on his face is from muscles pulled all tight
not from falling down and knowing that he's given up the fight
he doesn't hear and doesn't care, doesn't see or speak or eat
all he knows is he needs more time to be quicker on his feet
so he shrugs off some more pounds and he wonders what is wrong
why does every fucking move he make remind him he's not strong?
in the end, he was a champion, no one denies him that
and sure as hell there didn't live a soul who dared to call him fat
not since he sweated off his pounds and earned himself, at last, a rest
the only problem is he pushed himself into an early death.
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| motivation - 7.3.06
so-late nights and later days (the saints of which would change our ways)
a nervous sweat at time of night brings nonetheless no end in sight
and eyes that track the cursor's light are bloodshot and he looks a fright
but dogged (one cool cat) he moves his fingers to the rhythmic blues
that keyboard's sounds keep right along (to half-remembered shards of song)
and, whistling slightly under breath, he coaxes code from certain death
or, better yet, he leaves a mark and rescues readers from the dark
and so continues, as we speak, the saga of our hero's meek
appearance shed and cast aside in favor of what light provides
(though, artificial, somewhat dim) by light of screen, he gains some vim.
he's a machine with calloused hands; he's fueled by ramen noodles and
the cheeto dregs that stain his clothes make up for and assauge his woes
his fingers tapping on the keys fill up his room with melodies
of clicks and taps and beeps and words he'd rather that remain unheard
unsung, unmuttered, just as he, ignored by real-life peers, is free
from ties that bind and friends in need, no, "number one comes first": his creed
but after all, he does have peers who look to him and hold him dear
and close to heart whenever comes a moment that, their hardware, numbs
and if he were to, say, just leave; why certainly someone would grieve
perhaps not you or i, but then, we don't quite count ourselves as friends
but someone somewhere has to care that no more does he sit in chair
and glance upon computer screen while in the background, singers scream
but ever silent stays the phone and if alive, he's still alone
unless that's him whose name you read while sitting all alone in bed
perhaps he found the strength inside to leave his chair and join the ride
and maybe now he's known by all for feats, astounding, full of gall
and if he, in his wasted state could go out and take on his fate
then what a waste for men like you who could amount to all that, too
so get up off your ass today and make the whole word know your name.
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