poet

She once asked me 
the name of my 
favourite poet 
and I replied

God

She laughed 
and played along 
and asked me 
which one of his 
works was my 
absolute favourite

I said it was 
the one 
where he 
wrote her 
into existence

http://www.navk.ca/

mellow night reflection

I'm starting this post without a title because, well, I don't know what it should be, yet. I'll put up something when I come up with something...suitable.

I woke up rather...late today. Around 11 am, when a friend texted me saying he'll be going to the class--a review session--for questions. Yea, the class starts at 11:15 and I wanted to shower. Naturally, I chose not to go. I got up around 11:30 and showered, grabbed food around 12:30, came back, packed, and went out to study with a friend...for an exam that night.

I'l just say that it did not turn out as well as I thought it could/should/I wanted. Whatever, I guess I'll just lower my standards a bit :(

Afterwards, came back with a rather unpleasant mood but decided that I should get some wings to enjoy the rest of the night.

That was most of my day and night. Although that's not why I really want to write tonight. Yea it's almost 2 am again and I, like always, should be sleeping. But since that never happens, and that I wanna talk about a few things, I'm here. I guess I'll try to keep it short, just like life...wait no life's the longest damn thing there is. Never mind, you get the point.

I was talking to a pen pal today, just catching up and such. The topic of the future and just the idea of right and wrong--as in whether you are making the right choices in life--came up.

I don't know if anyone remembered, but my theory of...how things work, in a sense, is a "cycle" of the good and the bad. As in, when something bad happens, I believe that something good will come along to compensate that, in the future, hopefully near and apparent. Yet, I also believe the vice versa happens.

The talk made me think of how I used to make decisions, and, to an extent, how it has changed over the years. I feel like before, I just say and do what others want to hear / told me to do. I did so because I believed that was how I can make friends: to make people like me because I'm agreeable.

That was honestly a really poor way of making friends because technically, I didn't exist. I was a sum of what my friends are and want. I was like a chameleon.

Now? I do what I want. Lol.

D, it'll be ok. Everything will be ok. Don't worry too much, as that is not how one lives life.

On another note,shout up to C for being the bestest person ever. Sad how I never knew you earlier D: You are like, the best.

-----

Found this on tumblr earlier. Thought I'd share.

Sad Songs 

Once there was a boy who couldn't speak but owned a music box which held every song in all the world. One day he met a girl who had never heard a single melody in her entire life and so he decided to play her his favorite song. He watched while her face lit up with wonder as the music filled the sky and the poetry of lyrics moved her in a way she had never felt before.  

He would play his songs for her day after day and she would sit by him quietly-never seeming to mind that he could only speak to her through song. She loved everything he played for her, but of them all-she loved the sad songs best. So he began to play them more and more until eventually, sad songs were all she heard.  

One day, he noticed that it had been a very long time since her last smile. When he asked her why, she took both his hands in hers and kissed them warmly. she thanked him for gift of music and poetry but above all else--for showing her sadness because she had known neither of these things before him. But it was not time for her to go away--to find someone who could show her what happiness was.  

Do you remember the song that was playing the night we met?  

No, but I remember every song I have heard since you left.  

- Lang Leav

G'night guys :)

absolutely nothing

Trigger warning

It's a really heavy poem from Perks of Being a Wallflower:

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dogs
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it 

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it 

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could each the kitchen

sonnet

I tried to wash away the thoughts inside

To feel the tears of hope, the shattered smile

To know that snow had came and dried

The memory all blurred that stayed awhile

 

A faded bliss is lingering behind

The lost and gain, felt altogether played

If the attempt will only serve to blind

Then I will not let fate to be the blade

 

You told me love and pain can make us strong;

And that our fate will treat the weather fair

So maybe in the end, if something’s wrong

The life of bonds will, in turn, be our air.

 

Because of you, each day that time goes by,

I will be strong, believe, to testify.