Some words are just inherently cool. I just want to write about one I discovered in a conversation last night: clearly.
I realized that clearly can mean complete opposites:
So be careful how you use it when talking about ghosts. 😉
Okay that’s really all I have to say about that, I just thought it was cool 🙂
it’s not too late
got lots of time
new lines stemming from my eyes
white on black and black on white
everything’s gray
everything’s gray
tonight
leave it alone
leave it alone
leave it alone
I start again
a brand new day this time
singing words of peace and joy
I’ll start again
open your eyes
open your eyes
leave it alone
leave it alone
I put it off
but I cannot dance tonight
I’ll sing of love
even if it isn’t right
I’ll put it off
lacing up my shoes
this isn’t like you
this is not like you
this is not like you
this isn’t you
black and bright this time
black and white this time
black and right this time
black and white is fine
black and white
black and right this time
black and white is mine
black and white mind
black and light
black is right
black is mine
blackened mind
black as night
black and bright makes
black and white and
black and white makes
everything gray
everything’s gray
everything’s gray
Lyrics Copyright L.M. 2008; Music Copyright M.K. & L.M. 2008. Finished: February 2nd, 2008.
“faux pas”
I noticed this curious little tidbit probably a few months ago, it resurfaced when I was in Florida, and just again today, so I thought I’d share this with you.
I’m curious if the first people to use “faux pas” in its current sense realized they had two sets of homonyms that end up with the same overarching meaning….. quite witty if they did. Here’s how it works:
“faux pas”:
“faux”: false
“pas”: step
= false step, misstep
∴ a social slip-up, blunder
“faut pas”:
shortened from “il ne faut pas” in slang
“faut”: must
“ne….. pas”: not
= [indefinite] “one” must not, “one” shouldn’t
∴ when used as a noun, a social blunder
Quite witty, if that was the intention. Oh words, how I love thee…..
cornered
secretive journeys of unknown eyes
follow helplessly through firm air
the new shield
meant only for she who is immortal
sacred
and pure
sets sail for a heart of oblivion
chartering courses yet to be taught
a childless excursion
seeping into a well-known chasm
and yet
boredom worries few
tethering sinew stretched taut
jumbled words of wisdom sought
their carabine stalking guilt to err
and you
Copyright L.M. 2006.
yesterday I did a lot that will be forgotten
during the day
and upon arrival of the night I sat
within sight of stars and a friend
unable to contain my joy
I don’t care what it meant
it was part of my present
the little questions that crawl
slithering like wily wordsmiths
stab of criminality
inauthenticity
pressure
but I ignore them all
for whatever was meant
was all part of my present
I never ignore the truth
but sometimes it takes a while
and processing asks a fee
when something requires action
it finds a way of surfacing
and regardless of intent
it was all part of my present
if there is a problem with my words
perhaps it’s my turn for the blame?
well, that’s alright, I am strong
I know who I am
and I know what I need
I ask no one’s consent
to take part in my present
moderation is essential
and those who judge harshly
will lead a boring existence
for rules and standards and doctrines
bastardize life
where any threat of deviance
begins the cycle of torments
I live by me and my present
I should not be misunderstood
we all need a conscience
but show me a tribunal
for all our small misdeeds
and I will show you a hymnal
that touts many creeds
so you will see, and thus lament
your state of being, your sole attempt
and every hour you might repent
but I shall bask in my present
why care you of their dissent
life itself bids you relent
she mourns so many lives unspent
tomes filled with these nonevents
the only one you represent
is you, so follow your intent
it is your world to reinvent
and do what makes you most content
now should I like to end my words
with you
right here
my dear
I shall
Copyright L.M. 2007. (originally posted here at 2:15 a.m. tonight.).
it’s in her style
paths of words streaming
seeming
beaming
their peace upon us all
as we sing out delight
at the voice in our heads
perhaps mouthed in pain
or wreathing
or the simple hurt of breathing
barely there and yet
a final stanza’s set
forgiving all we weren’t
unopened in the eyes of many
sitting all alone
in waiting and impatience
wondering at such
use of passive tense
for not all eyes can see
splendid verbose beauty
but sit here we
gliding fingers highlight text
whose passion rises ours
left only to second-guess
whose life personified
yours or his
hers or mine
ignorant of time
and so it settles
her adorning mind
Copyright L.M. 2006.
(My sister had a different interpretation for this poem when she read it; she thought it was about the Virgin Mary….. have another read and you might see why she, and I now too, can glean that meaning from it…..)
I have a sight
I thought somewhere near
takes me a while to
to…..
well I should have lost it
perhaps
maybe
somehow
did
inside it burns
and I shiver
you know it’s cold
so very cold
I’m not hopeless
just delusional
apparently
and to make up
for all the lost time
somehow started
to believe in fairytales
masochistic? probably
I’ve heard it heals
or bides time
with other distraction
sort of like me
I guess that’s ironic
but really, not hopeless
that’s part problem
you see why
it’s the hope that kills
if I were numb
oh to be numb
I would lose fear
I would lose pain
I would lose anger
I would lose love
well, you’ve taught me
you can’t win them all
in my year of luck
my precious months
a troubled match
a frightened soul
helped onto my plate
peppered with perfection
here and there
and when that bell begins
I will be a mistake
and another chapter
in a drama
whose clout extends
far beyond
the amusing present time
I’m sleepless
and you know why
and you won’t tell me
I’m walking the lines
with chains around my neck
ball bearings in my throat
and hands behind my back
and I say “I’m starved”
and you say you’re tired
but give me food
that I can’t eat, smell, see
and say it ought to be enough
but death takes its toll
bending all rules
portraying life as such
well you feel remorse
but upon the next
bestow a fresh nothing
ready to be devoured
and kill another
just like before me
me
and after me
I’m still sleepless
could you tell me why?
I did have a dream though
yes I had to wake you up
you transformed
into the jerk
and I couldn’t get you to leave
I awoke frightened
with the door open
do you realize
character and honesty
can both be judged
by ignoring words altogether
and looking
solely
on what you do
so in this pretend world
this fantasy of yours
some things bleed
into mine
and I try to see
subtract the you
subtract the me
to look right through
to reality
but look at me
I play the fool
I’m just the tool
to set you free
of memory
of any need
of honesty
responsibility
respectability
honour, value
worth, and truth
you see, all these
I could be for you
but that fantasy
well it bleeds too
into one which you
have saved for me
I still can’t sleep
and I blame you
Copyright L.M. 2007.
In high school, I came up with a shade of blue.
It was beautiful — a combination of sky blue, light mauve, baby blue.
Every day as I’d walk through the hallways, I’d look up through the windows as I passed to see if today was a Beautiful Blue day, and, if it was, it was a good day. It became difficult in winter to keep my spirits up, as the cold depresses me sometimes, but if there was a patch where I saw Beautiful Blue skies, it would lift me up and give me strength.
I love nature like others love religion. In fact, to a certain degree, I equate the two. This is really very personal but why not…… in my egotistical mind, I would see the colour showing up as a sign, a spiritual offering of a hand to help me stand again — or, if I was already standing, would help lift me to happiness — or, if I was already happy, would help lift me to elation. Natural beauty is something that never replicates; each instance really is a moment in time to treasure. You will never have that exact opportunity again to feel its presence, its power, your part in it all. All you can hope for, if you shun that moment, is another chance. It is likely for this reason that I have become a fervent advocate of spontaneity; part of carpe diem requires the ability to forgo plans and live for the moment as it presents itself. Part of beauty is unpredictability.
Beautiful Blue might look different to others. As much as I describe it, I will never know if anyone else sees the exact shade I do — not that I believe myself to be the only one capable, but when you take into account differences of perception, differences of colour receptor cones in the eyes, differences perhaps of data transmission between cones and the brain?…… but this Beautiful Blue, to me, is nothing less than hope itself, embodied in a shade of pure beauty.
A couple years after I’d begun this tradition of sky-searching at school and elsewhere, I was listening to the radio and heard the DJ mention a new song was going to be played by an artist whose songs I knew and liked. The artist: Holly McNarland. The title: Beautiful Blue. This initially stunned me. Then, my senses came around and I realized: to others, they were simply two words strung together, and could be used to describe a multitude of things…… I suppose. This is what she has to say about her song:
“The big song [on the cd], ‘Beautiful Blue,’ came a week before the
last time we went into the studio,” she says. “That was shortly
after September 11. It’s not about that, but the whole vibe, the
whole doomsday thing, was pretty apparent, and I was just
hanging out with my son. In the middle of all of this tragedy,
I would wake up and have this perfect little angel by my side.”¹
It’s a beautiful song; I loved it immediately, and not simply for the connection I had with it. One day I’d like to perform it live — in a way, to realize another dream of mine, as I’ve already recently been given the opportunity to realize one of my life dreams of being part of a band. I don’t want to suggest it, as it’s not particularly in the style we perform, but I figure that the opportunity will somehow present itself at some point in my life — just like the song did initially — if it is meant to be interpreted by my (in comparison) highly unqualified voice. This is not a case for carpe diem, after all; this is a chance to see just where my Beautiful Blue will guide me next.
So, my dear readers, after I expose my vulnerable nature to all your mysteriously faceless souls, I ask you: what is your Beautiful Blue?
If you would like to comment on this, you need to click on the title to load the post anew, where you will be given the option to leave a comment if you so desire (and I hope you do!).
twice I watched my number pass
felt the crumbles of the blast
siphoned, mirrored, filed away
sickening by this light of day
parachutes of older grace
pick me up, cradle my face
I’m dying by the light of mourn
repelling with the scent of scorn
a patient man has never seen
the light of me, the plight of me
so sit still while I peck into
my scorching hands, Beautiful Blue
words that letters really ought
not touch the pearls that teach you naught
have wrung my hands into a knot
and teach me what shouldn’t be taught
Copyright L.M. 2007.
if you ask me I will tell
the story of my chance
sentences strung as one
beautiful words taking turns
to paint the scene
of immortal love
if you ask me I won’t hide
won’t push the thoughts aside
you’ve always been light
ever since the first
and I sense till the end
oh to be there, with love
if you ask me I will say
truth to you, one
do you know I’ve been there?
just ask and I will say
like a stem grows each day
to hold its beauty high in the air
yes, love, I’ve been there
I have seen what I should not
and I didn’t want to return
but you — yes, you frighten
I could swear on my life
you take my breath away
love, have you been there?
I want to change your mind
I want to show it could be
love, I beg you to tell me
someday you’ll join me there
Finished: 6:18 a.m., Tuesday, November 20th, 2007. (adjustments 6:26 a.m. to final verse, same day; further adjustments 6:32 a.m., again to the final verse, again the same day).
Copyright L.M. 2007. (see note on next poem. perhaps exaggeration, emphasis on feeling, not necessarily definition).
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