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Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.

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  2011.07.05  12.49
just a quote thought by me...

hey guyss this post is open for all the criticism or appreciation by all of you. if you have anything in mind about this....plz comment. okay here it goes:-

"Success is the only thing whose meaning is best understood without experience"..

please do comment...




Mood: good
 
 


 
  2009.11.22  21.32
Accepting Submissions

To Writers and Artists,

We are accepting works (poetry, short stories, and artwork, including photography) to launch our inaugural issue of our magazine, The Fine Line. The deadline for submissions is March 31, 2010.

For guidelines on how to submit please visit our website: http://thefineline00.wordpress.com/


Looking forward to reading your work,
Co-Editors of The Fine Line



Mood: ecstatic
 
 


 
  2009.01.19  13.38
"The Road"

 The Road
By Taylor Hellstrom


As I walk down the road
Covered with fog
I realize that I have no idea of where I go
I look behind and realize I know not where I was.

And yet, the road behind
is brighter than the road ahead
My mind races at the thought that I could rewind
But my steps keep plodding to the end.

It seems that my feet
Have an idea of my path
But my head has no speech,
The night is too black.

An unstoppable force
Pushes me toward my fate
Regardless of choice.
Still more roads diverge from my feet.

What lies beyond each turn
Is a mystery
Shadowed in fog.
Where am I going?

I try to slow my pace
But it seems like I cannot.
My feet keep wanting to race
into the darkness of the night

I drift from side to side
Because of the unsureness in my head
And yet my feet continue to slide
Onward toward my ultimate end.

I continue down the road
On into the endless night
Only this time the fog is gone
Ahead I see a shining light

It perplexes me,
Vexes me with why it decided to show
It is bright
This night, but what it is I do not know

Is it a glimmer of hope,
That I might know where I am going?
Or is it a joke,
Here today and gone in the morning?

As I look into the light,
Fear grips my heart.
And yet on this night,
Warmth seeps through the dark.

With the fog gone
I can see my steps behind,
See my every fall,
And the dust that made me blind

I look at my feet,
And I can see the mud.
I look at the street,
And I can see the path that I have trod.

When I look back,
I see another set of footprints
Following my same track
But with many more missteps

His prints are similar to mine
With the same gait of uncertainty
Do I follow them?
Did he know where he was going?

I look back to my pitfalls and errors
And all the mistakes I made
And I can see clear markers
Left by the man ahead

I look down the road
In front rather than behind
Should I follow this soul
Could he see where I am blind?

Did he see the light and rush to it
Or did he
Like me
Become hesitant.

Did he know what the light had in store?
Or did he realize that it was so much more?

I realize now that my feet won’t stop
They’ll keep around every bend
But will I follow the steps
Of the man ahead?

I continue down my path
My eyes facing ahead now
My steps a little stronger
In the realization
that the path is mine alone to follow

I need not worry of the ways of another
For my feet already know the way
Even though my head does not
I know I will walk anyway

The day has broken,
Sneaked up on me as I gazed down
And I know that though the night seems eternal
There will always be a dawn

My ears are filled
With the sounds of the day
And I hear more travelers
Walking their own way

In that small moment
I come to realize
That though I am alone
There will one day be one at my side

A fellow wanderer
To help me on my way
With whom I can share stories
Of when I went astray

And other tales
Of when times were good
And of my travels
And places that I stood

Because I know now
That I am the Walker
Destined to ever wander
Until the day I die



 
 


 
  2008.10.01  16.03
"This is my Proposal"

Life is a business arrangement
Sex is negotiated
And love comes with terms inked in fine print
On silky lace.

Happiness is expansion in the company,
Or is it economic growth?
The two rarely go hand in hand.

Morals are policies that get constantly amended
Especially after downsizing
Which is just another word for loss.

We have mascots that we call pets,
A new one is needed after the original get’s old
And tired.

We’re buried in paperwork

And that’s not even a metaphor anymore.

 
 


 
  2008.09.17  14.10
oh, hey.

I've never really done this in a community before, but. I just posted some stuff I wrote over at my journal. read, comment, hate, whatever. feedback would be nice. :)

http://fourmeansfive.livejournal.com/2440.html

 
 


 
  2008.09.04  18.39
Song of Myself

Or a Study of Nothing at All

I am an amoeba
Morphic and occasionally detached in search of food
A bug, however, is not beneath my skin
Nor am I small - like a bacterium
Child
Dust-mote

The taste of dust, though, can be found on my tongue
Sugar-snap peas grow in an old land
And I am new come from old
How deep are my roots - when tugged on
We can both find out

I am the lapis-lazuli of solar panels
Awake beneath noon sun
The best solutions are the clean, green ones
New inventions
Experiences
Colors

I could be a pinwheel
Bright, spinning yet stable
Pushed by the wind - corkscrewing
But I do not fall down
Nor am I made out of plastic
Stone
Sugar

I am filled with incandescent bubbles
Of soap
And they are vibrantly happy, floating
But be careful with them
Precious, and they can pop
Dissolve
Fly away

I am my dreams - which is simplest
For my dreams are my own
I dream of rain
Feathers
Red
In the marrow of my bones



Mood: Incandescent
 
 


 
  2008.08.28  03.42
"Untitled"

"Untitled"

Lazy,
But glamorous golden
non-sequiturs searching fiendishly
for billboard glory,

A futile search, indeed
for they are blind
unable to see,
you see?

Reaching with idle hands
they gouged out their third eye,
and replaced it
with Gods roving eye eye
imprisoned in slaves labor,

It's a paper eye,
and holds the same value.

 
 


 
  2008.08.11  18.09
So...you think you can write?


Join loveletters_v1
a rating community for writers


 
 


 
  2008.07.10  15.10
My days without you

By Javier Falcon

Many say that I have changed,
that I am not the one they saw before.
Others say that somehow I have softened,
that the gleam of love is apparent in my eyes.
But all I can say is that without you I feel pain,
as you were my heart's only remedy.

My days without you are just gray,
a storm which ever so slightly rips me apart.
they're a wound that kills me inside.
My days without you are a nightmare,
that reminds me every day of my life,
how much I was focused on loving you.

My days without you are just full of pain,
as the hole in my heart which erupts my love for you,
only grows bigger as I see you from afar.
My days without you are the only bitter,
they demonstrate that the space you left can't be filled,
that every girl which passes by is just a fake image of you.

My days without you are those of a wanderer,
searching for the person they once loved,
trying to find the last piece of their puzzle.
My days without you are one's of loneliness,
with a heart which only lone to be with you,
suffering in depth and keeping a mind saved for you.

Days in which music is the only consoler,
yet music is what makes me think of you.
All the great moments and memories by your side,
never to regret one single instant with you, makes
my days with you the one's which the sun only shines on us,
as I wish to take you in my arms and walk into the horizon.

 
 


 
  2008.07.03  09.35
whistling sexy (july 2, 2008)

so whistling is sexy
dire ocean, dire sea
calmly careening
island by island
beach by beach
so whistling is sexy ...
when you do

so words unspoken are true
like the wind, like the sand
underneath our almost bound feet
struggling for thoughts
that the body give away
so easily, so enchantingly
words almost uttered
but then again they were never heard
yet so true, its so true

so the tree, so the rock
he climbed, he trudged
funny, clumsily, and uncanny
like me lying half naked
and you whistling sexy ...
at me
under the scorching march sun
friends, rocks and the boat men
all gone, all done
just you and i
left behind ...



Photobucket 

 
 


 
  2008.03.18  21.29
The Desired One

 

The Desired one,
      Dark...
             Mysterious...
                      Dangerous...

I feel you from across the yonder plain,
       Your eyes...
               Cold...
                      Empty...

A scar across the heart that beats feverishly neath the sullen mail upon your chest,
A beat within the heart that bleeds to feel,

Touch,
       Touch me, and know what it is to feel...
The desired one, whom no one desires, come away and learn of better things

A whore,
       woman of the night....
                         Feel with the one who feels nothing...
Blissful ignorance of emotion....
Rapture in abandon of this pitiful romance we call love

Love,
      Life...
          Death...
A beginning, and and end...
                
Come. . . 
           End your night with me.....
                                    Become, in one final careless act...
               


The Desired One....



 
 


 
  2008.03.16  20.17
Perhaps...

What if the sun didn't shine?
Would the grass still be as vibrantly green?
Would flowers still smell,
And would the earth still thrive?

What if the moon had no glow?
Would our evening of long awaited passion still have been as believable?
Would fireflies lose their desire to twinkle?
And would the stars still shine?

What if we had never walked?
Would our lips have met in heated desire?
Would your hand have grasped mine?
And would we have become one?

What if you didn't really love me?
Would my ferver for life be doused?
Would I be lost without you by my side to guide me through the darkness of this worlds bland and empty despair?

Perhaps.

But I suppose we will never know.
 



Mood: aggravated
 
 


 
  2008.03.16  19.28
Freezing

Freezing...
Like a catacombs of ice around my very being...
You, my liquid nitrogen,
A chemical in my beating heart...

Cold...
Like a jagged lance of black ice...
You, the means of my demise,
An end to this sacrifice...

Freezing...

Cold...





Mood: cold
 
 


 
  2007.09.26  10.10
If cold is pure...

If cold is pure
and heat breeds desire,
then the winter is not our time.
We use cathedral voices,
in a darkened room.
Whispering echoes
shivering over flesh
covered in sweat and tears.

 
 


 
  2007.06.26  11.35
a girl named paradise (june 18, 2007)

he said, “come here let’s play”
let’s make ourselves fall
and she said, “yes, let’s do that”
let’s give it our all

and then he said, “i quit”
there’s this overwhelming guilt
she said, “oh great, how about me”
i can’t seem to quit you anymore …

and her name was paradise
the world around her leaves her in disguise
she can’t seem to be herself anymore
now nothing will be like before

ok, he said, “come on let’s play”
i love you but i can’t get away
i need you but i just can’t stay
i can’t be here with you …

and her name was paradise
the songs he play serves her alibi
to keep him inside when he had let go
but she can’t let him ever know
he can never know …

her name was paradise
i love you but good bye



 
 


 
  2007.05.02  17.47
Hansel and Gretel Revisited

(x-posted all over the place as per usual)

Hey there! I've been being a pretty lousy writing community member as of late but I'm hoping to be able to pay more attention to things since I have more free time right now. Here is something I wrote way back in high school. And of course, I can't make a post without pimping my zine Ephemera--new issue expected to be available by the end of the week! Get all the info here. I am always looking for new submissions by writery/artistic people. :)
poem.Collapse )



Mood: productive
 
 


 
  2007.05.02  13.02
brush with life

today on the computer i wrote this, i can't stop thinking the words and needed to get them out. the ailing feeling is gone

Grey desk and suffocating lights
Goose bumps and my ill stomach
I can’t bear to live with this feeling
Lost and heavy head of hopes
Remembering that I can’t be in love
The times I lost with you
The lies I told you
Fuck this
Fuck the lies
Fuck the time
Fuck the never gonna
Fuck the love
Fuck the dreams
Fuck the hopes
Fuck the life I live

 
 


 
  2007.04.01  20.35
Vengeance Prayer

 

Hey everyone, sorry to double post, but this is my second and last post for the night. Feel free to comment criticize, or complain.


We cannot be forsaken
for we have the favor no longer granted.

Our lineage written in blood and pain,
recorded in spoken memories…



 
 


 
  2007.04.01  20.25
The Others

Hey everyone, I haven't been on for awhile, so I have a few pieces to put up.
I think I mean this to be put to some sort of music when it was created, but feel free to comment, criticize, or complain.

Born of hope and dreams, I am a One of Now
I cannot be defeated, only tempered more.
My blood is hot with hate, My fire fed on pain

  



 
 


 
  2007.03.29  15.41
in peace (march 17, 2007)

 

ah ... the familiar pain
when love is finally gone
stingy ...
unpleasant ...
this burning feeling inside
of extreme loss
of unbearable gravity
of everything gone in an instant

tasty ...
still palpable
in all your senses
with his hasty presence
this feeling still remains
as familiar as everyday

ah ... the familiar hope
floating freely in the air
from the last woes made
to everything falling in place again
will it ever last this time?
will everything be alright for good?

uncertain ...
a nauseating shadow of doubt
cast instantly
as fast as reality
this familiar feeling of being at ease
may it finally rest in peace

 



 
 


 
  2007.03.08  15.49




 
 


 
  2007.03.05  16.40
New Poetry!!!

The muse is being a little vengeful today - she has been growling and snarling at me today, forcing thoughts into my head which - in the case of some - are probably left untouched, unsaid.

Having said that, though, here are four new poems for your reading (dis)pleasure.

PassionCollapse )

Not WorthyCollapse )

The Mask Of SisterhoodCollapse )

Murdered?Collapse )

 
 


 
  2007.03.05  13.32
Another new poem...

THE MOON


Behold!

The moon rises over the pallid sea and
The silvery mist of the meadows –
Silently one by one,
In the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossoms the lovely stars –
The forget-me-nots of the angels

Her level rays, like golden bars
Lie on the ground below
An eerie green with
Wild shadows cast in brown in between.
Silver white the waters gleam,
As if Artemis herself,
In enpassioned dreams,
Has dropped her silver bow
Down upon the quiet earth.


A very soft spirit worships -
One lovers know and love so well –
Whose influence over
All tides of soul has true power, and
Who lends a pale light to
Rapture and despair;

The glow of hope and wan hue of sick fancy
Are each reflected within the mirror of slivered rays
Lighting the path of meeting or of parting love -
Illuminating the mingling of and
The breaking of hearts one in the same…
An ethereal smile enthroned in beauty.


In the same breath,
The governess of floods -
Pale in her anger –
Washes all the air
That rheumatic diseases do abound.

Through this fit of temper,
We do see the seasons alter

 
 


 
  2007.03.04  19.49


<lj-cut text="Some questions about music/text relationships.">

Hi everyone,

 

I am a university student doing a research project on music/text relationships for an ethnomusicology class and have a couple questions for the community here.  I am looking for input from people who consider themselves musicians, writers (of prose and poetry as well as lyrics), or both.  It would be great to get some input on one or all of the questions below; if you’d like to participate, please answer any question that seems interesting to you.  It is my hope that this might create some good discussion, as well.

 

I got inspired to do the project after reading this article in LA Weekly: http://www.laweekly.com/general/features/chapter-and-verse/12765/

 

Questions:

Do you listen to music when you write?  Why/why not?

Is it possible for someone to think of himself as a lyricist first, musician second? 

Is song "the most perfect use of language"? 

Is music "the art that other art flatters itself by bending toward"? 

Is there anything significant in the difference between the ways that music can tug on your heartstrings and the way literature does? 

What do you think about the idea that we would all be more apt to think about what music we want playing at our funeral/deathbed and not which books we'd like to go out reading? 

How much do literature and music really have in common, and how would you like to see that change? 

 

Thank you!

 

X posted

 

</lj-cut>



 
 


 
  2007.03.04  12.45
New Poetry

My muse, the vengeful little bitch that she is, is stirring there in my mind right now. She hasn't decided whether or not her presence needs to be forceful today, but it has inspired this...

The Muse


There, in the thicket,
Can you see it?
A half-wild beast supping on
A half-cooked stew,
Lingering close to the clearing
Yet not quite willing to enter.

Drawn in by the stench of
Eagerness and hope,
It releases a gut-wrenching snarl and
Enters,
Moving ever closer with
A gleam and a dare in its eye.

Do you have what it takes –
The depth of faith;
The constitution and patience to
Go as far as needed –
To tame the beast…
To train this thing?

The stench of a still life,
A snapshot of some story
Rattling about in your head,
Draws the beast ever closer –
Snarling, drooling, and
Ready for battle.

Suppositions, superstitions and
Half-finished stories –
The fruit of your imagination –
Is the stuffs of which
The beast creates and cooks
Its nightly repast.

Do you possess it –
The patience and passion necessary to
Tame the beast…
To tame your muse so that
You can put pen to paper and
Clear your wild mind?

 
 


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