William Wordsworth

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.





i miss ryan.

Fairytale.

A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds,
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It’s like a garden full of snow.
And when the snow begins to fall,
It’s like a bird upon the wall,
And when the bird away does fly,
It’s like an eagle in the sky.
And when the sky begins to roar,
It’s like a lion at the door.
And when the door begins to crack,
It’s like a stick across your back,
And when your back begins to smart,
It’s like a penknife in your heart,
And when your heart begins to bleed,
You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead indeed.

The Greek Slave

"The Greek Slave" - Hiram Powers

sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
inspired by the statue.

Sole

i put up a tent to daydream in.
the freedom fighter calls life a nuclear nightmare.
and if you don't like the tone of my sinking ship,
pray for me while i cry for you.

whoever i can't kill, my daughter will.
and at night, in complete silence, i can convince myself i'm psychic
as i walk through berkeley and wish i had a cause.
i know it's bullshit, but it's all i can believe in.
the more time i spend staring at people who never dare to stare,
i also know it isn't hopeless if i'm thinking this.
and avoiding cliche is like lying in my living room,
staring at the ceiling, complaining about how ugly that it's getting.

only two of my childhood friends escaped the experiment,
some were killed, some became killers.
some mourn a lack of ambition through parents
who passsed on the nest 'til there were no worms left.
the successful went on to go to college then do nothing;
if you're their fool, you're everyone's fool and no one's friend.
it's a native american thing, you'd never understand why
i've learned to eat pain like a sunday snack,
march to no tune, and got a collar and doggy biscuit.

self-taught master of sleepless hallucination.
loveless thinking pill,
learn it to dance for my sister's dog sake,
my mother's mother, and my father's veins sake.
they all wanna spill my guts into the street and wrestle me in it
like i can't digest what i can't swallow

for all the loveless pedestrians holding bloodless hands.
and when alone with death for the first time, but realize it was there all along.
the amusement park lines aren't as good as the in-my-head-lines:
this is my newest installment in my latest last will and testament series.
i see people who try too hard to be themselves
and wanna throw them lines like no one is themselves,
follow your guts to traffic.
'cause your remote control dreams are worth more to you than to them.
you have to believe me, i wrote this with a pink pen
and my face never goes red when they ask what it means.
misunderstand me in your perfect pose, while plastic seats scream, "your excellence,"
your pretty putty padded ass.

well-trained men learned to worship the lovenessness all around;
shallowness is quite becoming.
all the parts of life that are not mind-numbing experiences,
throw your hats off to those of us who can run off cheap batteries and wine.
we'd love to run you off the road and write a book about it.
if you stood between the day the little pig took the big pigs out to dinner
to eat them with barren hands
that done wrote ten million words and never got my point across.
like people afraid to be different wanna make a difference.
most nights i sleep alone and freezing and have no dreams.
tonight is different: awake and freezing, i have no skin
left for my parachute.

this advice isn't for you, it's for me; in my stomach forever.
tomorrow they'll forget me 'cause i never learned to kill for oil but then again,
i never learned to sit still and probably never will.
feel the need to hide these beautiful places until my rich man's death bed.
we can't sleep, i can't write at all in my room 'cause i had a girl there once,
and the moral of the story is...
there is no story.

City and Colour

this man is amazing.
i love these lyrics!

And you can try to fight this all you want
But I wont be there when you’re all alone
And this new season brings with it signs of hope
You can leave me waiting by the phone

And I know there is some place I can go
Where no one knows my name

And I still remember the sound of your voice
All though your silence still rings so clear
Do you think that I would call just to hear you breathe?
You always knew that just one word would dry up all my tears

And I know there is some place I can go
Where no one knows my name
No one knows my name

Chelsea Handler

i love her.

Joseph Conrad

Who knows what true happiness is
Not the conventional word
But the naked terror
To the lonely themselves,
that wear a mask
the most miserable outcast
hugs some memory
or some illusion.

-Joseph Conrad

President Obama

i will never forget where i was, who i was with, and how i was feeling at this time. i truly feel proud to be an american for the first time. i really believed in obama and i truly feel that the best man won. he is going to make a remarkable president.