tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39954292011-10-02T05:24:31.711-07:00verbs | adjectives | nouns | prepositions | punctuations | brackets | thought | impulse.natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.comBlogger1161100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1085146854405233562004-05-21T06:30:00.000-07:002004-05-21T06:40:54.406-07:00

originally written 5.21.04 i just want to fly away from here. i thought this today, actually, several days, every day--maybe you could fly to me. i'd like to fly you to me--my thoughts may be disjointed but i do know what i am saying, and i know what i want, and i want to fly. well, forget that flying part since what i really want is you, and to convince myself that this is not a dream, that

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1084548982005755232004-05-14T08:18:00.000-07:002004-05-14T08:36:22.006-07:00

originally written 05.14.04 Goddamnit, Lord help me this is my home. i'm gonna leave eventually, but i'm not ready right now. i love it. i hate it. i love it. friends flock from far and we make our own nightlives even if the scene does not facilitate one. the ones i love close are my therapy for the dying process called life. the shore seems to wash away my troubles and make me whole again.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1084206452528446752004-05-10T09:20:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:25:38.200-07:00

originally written 05.10.04 i like the way my life falls piece by piece into my lap. most days i just want to drive away to the coast and throw the pieces of my life into the ocean to wash them off and make me pure. i'd let the breeze dry each piece off before i bury it into the sand. maybe i'd bury some pieces in the forest green, and hide other parts in art museums, some i'd just throw into

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1070902746796956472003-12-08T08:59:00.000-08:002004-05-10T21:25:55.813-07:00

originally written 12.08.03 something about december brings the snow to orange county-- a snowstorm that no one can see, but we make angels none the less: imprinted into the ground with wings spread wide-- we take flight on the ground. the cold air we breathe is seen before us when we exhale. that's the most winter that we see-- but it's the least that we feel. the spirit of winter flows through

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1066405664908855932003-10-17T08:47:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:26:36.033-07:00

originally written 10.17.03 uncontested, no less. i'm no more than a man broken away from the shell. possibly destined for great failures, or quiet symphonies. addicted to noice with a dependacy on sound. conversations wind down, i get wound up in the atmosphere. i drown in thin air-- yet to disappear...but you don't see a longing to explode over the whole fucking earth and leave no spot

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1064412277646697372003-09-24T07:04:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:26:54.310-07:00

originally written 09.23.03 you should consider me incredible...or at least consider me something. i've got nothing, you've got nothing--we might have something--and we've got nothing to lose. so, let's take some time sometime and see if these nothings can develop into something that can develop into something more...because we're all looking for something more. something would be nice. anything

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063987237323128672003-09-19T09:00:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:27:20.193-07:00

originally written 09.17.03 this vibe, this signal you send (or the complete lackthereof) confuses me because my overanalytical tendacies take over when you pop into my mind into my sight into my conversations i'm building these bridges that i don't know that i should cross 'cause i don't know if i want to cross i don't know if you want me to cross SHIT, i don't know if this

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063807947439143132003-09-17T07:12:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:28:34.763-07:00

originally written 09.17.03 your words are pinned up against my ears while the steel from your knife presses against my throat, and it only gets colder the more i anticipate the idea of not feeling the heat of your words, the cool of your knife. your mouth is a barrel shooting hollow points through my head. you're killing me. you've killed me. i am dead. i am reborn and in this new life you

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063765382035653202003-09-16T19:22:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:29:13.843-07:00

originally written 09.16.03 you pulled me into your foregrounds, awarded me solos, and shone the spotlight onto my face. in this, i smiled and sang while my voice stood out among the masses. you applauded me, praised me, and asked for encores. then, you pushed me into your backgrounds, i became an understudy for the chorus, and dimmed the stagelights upon me. in this, i became no one...just a

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063765249128975022003-09-16T19:20:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:29:33.096-07:00

originally written 09.15.03 i thought you'd always be here right now you've made it so clear. ticket stubs i'll hold on to as my last memory of you. if i ever see you pass me by don't let it be in the arms of some random guy 'cause it's enough to make me break and burn... i guess it's something i'll have to learn. i thought you'd have the decency to at least say goodbye to me. photos of you

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063383374271581002003-09-12T09:16:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:30:17.693-07:00

letter to a stranger originally written 09.08.03 you walk on by, don't take a glance to the world around, you don't give a chance to willing strangers with tired eyes, this world's so small you'll never realize. like rolling thunder my eyes could crash straight into you in just a flash. but you're so numb you'll never feel it-- or maybe you do... but you just conceal it. if i said "hi, how are

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1063383135558896792003-09-12T09:12:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:31:07.140-07:00

originally written 09.10.03 i want to be so lost with you, these words you say tear me in two. i don't know what you need, but i need you to need me. but if you don't i'd like to say i understand, you need to know it's not so simple: i can't. we've lost control, this whole thing's so out of hand. i'm in too deep, deeper than i ever planned. drowning in words, drowning in noise, lost in your

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1062696107461191512003-09-04T10:21:00.000-07:002004-05-10T21:31:32.183-07:00

originally written 09.04.03 i drank a sip of tea today and dedicated it to you. i wanna call you up real soon and tell you everything that's new. i wonder what your weather's like, it's cooling off out here. i wonder what your sky is like, 'cause the orange coast's so clear. these indy kids are not the same ever since you drove back home. all these drinks have lost their punch, and i think jess

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1062097286723719612003-08-28T12:01:00.000-07:002003-08-28T12:01:26.613-07:00

your living eulogy originally written 08.25.03 this is your life, i find you lost in a false mask: beneath a frost. this is not you, you seem so cold. you were so sweet, did you grow old of being pleasant? 'cause now you're bitter. your warm summer is now a winter caught up with people and losing yourself. i'm afraid of landings 'cause you fell. this is your life, now you're so jaded. what

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-105933633593906042003-07-27T13:05:00.000-07:002003-07-27T13:15:48.996-07:00

i’m in no rush originally written 07.27.03 i’ll take my time today and tomorrow, because i took my time yesterday. i’m in no rush, because haste never did me any good. i’ll give you a few small pieces of myself everytime, because i gave you a few yesterday. i’m in no rush, because i’m not ready to bear everything. i’ll walk toward you with baby steps, look into your eyes in small glances,

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1058982889141951242003-07-23T10:54:00.000-07:002003-07-23T11:04:45.120-07:00

anything with you originally written 07.23.03 i know that this shirt will just stay in my closet for one weekend more. and i know these plans will just fall to the ground, and they never will soar. i'd like to know that i am wrong about this, just be wrong for one time. i'd like to know that i won't wake up next week with a weak-end behind. i'm not looking for anything to do or for anyone to do

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1058452596860992212003-07-17T07:36:00.000-07:002003-07-17T07:36:36.750-07:00

eleven/eleven = love/love (or reciprocals and reciprocity) originally written 07.07.03 it's eleven:eleven p.m. and instead of sleeping-- like i should be, i'm wishing for re-cip-ro-ca-tion. (come again) ree-sip-row-kay-shun. just to be able to relish in being loved and sip tea from love's cup and row my vessel in a sea of love and know it's all o- kay because no one will shun my love away. for

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1058452303702924382003-07-17T07:31:00.000-07:002003-07-17T07:31:43.673-07:00

a case of the mondays originally written 07.08.03 it's tuesday morning after having a case of the mondays (which are anything but mundane) and i'm preparing for the wednesday hump when i'll be looking to place the her into thursday, before having a lonely friday night and a working weekend... which is all prelude to a case of the mondays.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-1057095096261790012003-07-01T14:31:00.000-07:002003-07-01T14:31:36.220-07:00

okay, so, i've written some new material. but, i'm only going to publish it when i'm ready. i've got some personal stuff going on and i am currently not ready to publish most of the new material. sorry guys.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957667532003-06-17T13:55:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:55:09.026-07:00

stagediver originally written 05.25.03 today i threw myself blindly into a crew, and to my surprise found myself caught by the crowd. i continued to play the rest of my set, because i didn't know that anyone would dig the music. but they did. but, now that the concert is over and the crowd is d i s p e r s i n g, where does the performer go to jump tomorrow?

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957666462003-06-17T13:51:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:51:16.650-07:00

point a to point b originally written 05.25.03 you know what i've figured out in the past two weeks? no one is ever really alone. i am not alone. you are not alone. we are not alone. no one has to face this world alone... but you can if that's your thing. point A to point B is never as far as it seems, often times it's right next to you.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957665512003-06-17T13:47:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:47:55.713-07:00

silent acts and solutions originally written 05.25.03 secret silent acts and solutions to the delusions that you've led yourself to believe, we leave another day behind and push it aside. the ride just got more interesting 'cause interests change, you find yourself estranged from a life you once knew -- for example: i write in blue instead of black, and turn my back away from bullshit lake and

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957663982003-06-17T13:43:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:43:17.533-07:00

positivity originally written 05.24.03 it's something i can't quite get a good grip onto or a clear-focused picture of -- that thing you know damn well is there but you question its existance anyways...(at least i question its presence) it's something i can seem to donate to everyone else, but can never find it in myself -- this energy seems so foreign while it is so native to everyone else.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957661602003-06-17T13:37:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:37:04.103-07:00

air-conditioned originally written 05.23.03 SWEET SUBURBAN PLIGHT! the air-conditioning is out. THAT AIN'T RIGHT. the upper-middle class needs to go and kick some ass in the humvees and SUVs driving 25 miles per hour down water tower way or hidden bay drive. (damn right the bay is hidden) who are we kiddin'? complete in our cargo shorts, pants, and capris...what are we preparing for? some social

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957659322003-06-17T13:30:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:30:21.216-07:00

chinky eyes originally written 05.22.03 when you look at me you see a chink without the chinky eyes and fail to realize reality your label's a fallacy you look outward but not far out enough. i look inward past every single innard. both yours and mine. the racial label's asanine. on paper you'd think i were white, or might think i'm not. looking at me you'd never know i smoked pot. when you look

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957656702003-06-17T13:22:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:22:45.006-07:00

you lost me originally written 05.21.03 i think that you lost me about a few months back when i was knocked off track by these self-depricating thoughts that seem to have caught me off-guard... it's gotten hard, this journey where i've been yearning some understanding from you... seems like you'll never see it through. will you ever find me back where you lost me? you have no idea how much this

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957655762003-06-17T13:19:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:19:38.026-07:00

drowning in myself originally written 05.21.03 drowning in myself, losing air... refusing to breathe... trying to swim. lost in this sea, looking for life. the surface seems so far, even if the sun shines through. drowning in myself, losing air.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957654842003-06-17T13:16:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:16:54.173-07:00

don't talk originally written 05.17.03 don't talk, stay silent absent sound becomes violent. you never see these tears... or hear these screams, these dreams won't come true, they won't reach you.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-957654222003-06-17T13:14:00.000-07:002003-06-17T13:14:58.656-07:00

lost and lonely originally written 05.17.03 lost and lonely only to be waiting impatiently--be patient? try to tolerate time? ''every reason has it's rhyme so your time will come.'' that's fucking dumb. time only passes in masses and i'm still waiting.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-947931812003-05-23T09:55:00.000-07:002003-05-23T09:55:30.716-07:00

this is me (or midnight biological autobiography on may23/03) originally written 05.23.03 this is me collectively in entirity completely me is what you see that's what you get you won't forget you see my sweat, anger, tears, smile, pain--every single mile all the while i hold nothing back, no lack of reality. i am your three-sixty view that zooms out and through nothing to hide nothing inside

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-942768442003-05-13T10:41:00.000-07:002003-05-13T10:41:26.606-07:00

easy originally written 05.01.03 is it as easy as changing my shirt with every rise of the gleaming dawn? my peaceful slumber is brought to a halt by a single burning question: who do you want to be? everyday, every moment you are undeniably you...but who you are is just as deniable. every fraction of every second is an opportunity to be reborn physically, spiritually, mentally. if i so choose

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-942766812003-05-13T10:38:00.000-07:002003-05-13T10:38:16.953-07:00

i'm the guy. you're the girl. originally written apr.03 i'm the guy that you see in the crowd the one who does not really fit in the one that is dying to be noticed dying to be noticed by you. you're the girl who could save me from this life the girl who could save me from me the girl who is not like the others while the other want to be just like you. i'm the guy who is struggling to not

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-929534642003-04-20T17:33:00.000-07:002003-04-20T17:33:39.996-07:00

outside your door originally written 04.20.03 i'll stay outside your door-- it's warmer here, even if the coast isn't so clear... eventually it will be, this situation won't kill me. i'm refusing to dive too deep-- i'm not gonna lose any sleep-- but... i'll be outside your door-- waiting for something more. maybe it'll come, maybe it will not. i'd love to get caught up in this downfall. this

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-927789812003-04-17T07:29:00.000-07:002003-04-17T07:29:59.903-07:00

overnight (the boy meets girl poem) originally written 04.17.03 girl meets boy, boy meets girl. they pass eachother day by day, they go their ways, and continually cross paths unknowingly. girl meets boy (again), boy meets girl (again). it didn't take long to realize they shared a world-- a world that seemed so colossal suddenly got smaller--pleasantly smaller. the sounds of tired karaoke fill

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-927785802003-04-17T07:22:00.000-07:002003-04-17T07:22:51.043-07:00

tribute to someone i don't know originally written 04.15.03 dear faceless friend, sexy shadow, i'll write you letters with words to melt the heart i've yet to touch. tributes to the things you will have done for me. the joy we'll share, the nights we'll spend, the love we'll make. the kisses i'll place on the lips i've never seen. the eyes that have not yet fixed their gaze on me. the voice that

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-927783422003-04-17T07:18:00.000-07:002003-04-17T07:18:50.000-07:00

windows and mirrors originally written 04.15.03 i look at the mirror and i see myself and objects behind me. i look out the window and i see a transparent reflection with that which is ahead of me. the mirror has no reset button... the objects are immovable and no longer tangible. everything in the mirror is frozen and set, like a picture complete with perfections and imperfections. looking

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-924290712003-04-11T07:33:00.000-07:002003-04-11T07:33:35.356-07:00

hit the brakes originally written 04.10.03 hit the brakes, you're on a collision course with yourself and i can say that this is not good for your health. take is slow you're about to burn out, get worn thin, you're one of the few that i give a shit about. i won't stand to see you fall you're the strongest person that i know. stay strong, don't crack, go insane. sanity's overrated anyway. if

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-924288462003-04-11T07:29:00.000-07:002003-04-11T07:29:48.950-07:00

random thoughts regarding energy, life, and the world originally written 04.10.03 life doesn't stop when you want it to-- no matter what you do. the world's life force continually flows and goes from person to person. fires keep burning, even the teacher is still learning. you're still alive when you sleep, energy still surges in dormant states, it awaits and creeps into visions and makes

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-924285702003-04-11T07:24:00.000-07:002003-04-11T07:24:58.450-07:00

awareness breeds torment originally written 04.10.03 with social awareness comes social conscience. with self-awareness comes self-consiousness. in gaining that which builds character comes self-torture...never being able to live up to the ideals you've set upon yourself. how can one be good enough for others when one cannot be good enough of oneself? there's a ridiculousness in becoming cynical

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-924282512003-04-11T07:19:00.000-07:002003-04-11T07:19:18.733-07:00

dead. originally written 04.10.03 fooling yourself into believing you're alive can be the greatest ephemeral event in your minimal existance. everything comes crashing down when you look into the mirror and find your skin peeling away from the rest of your body that has no blood left to bleed. flesh that you thought conveyed bronze tones suddenly became deathly anemic, that hair-covered scalp of

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-924279342003-04-11T07:13:00.000-07:002003-04-11T07:13:25.046-07:00

nothingness sinking originally written 04.10.03 light breaks through the window but i feel no warmth-- i feel nothing, in fact. cold air is absent around me. nothingness has manifested an envelope surrounding me physically and spiritually. this nothingness has become all that i am-- i am nothing, an empty vessel... floating in a sea heading nowhere fast, sinking slowly... and no one will ever

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-920133692003-04-04T16:22:00.000-08:002003-04-04T16:22:01.153-08:00

bleach bath originally written 04.04.03 (note: please pardon the cheesy rhyme scheme) it seemed like a good idea to bathe myself in a sea of bleach and to be deaf to the lessons i never wanted others to teach. in some way by gaining control of an identity that didn't exist i lost control at the same time, everyone think's i'm pissed. should i try to connect to a culture from which i feel

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-917980182003-04-01T14:13:00.000-08:002003-04-01T14:13:42.483-08:00

including me originally written 04.01.03 setting myself up with greed, i need to feel myself bleed blood and air, and gather stares, fall down stairs, and catch angry glares. fill the world with wonder with a misguided blunder, crash land in a pile of rubble and stumble onto something greater than that which i anticipated...but i anticipate very little, if anything: nothing. their eyes fall

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-917417432003-03-31T16:26:00.000-08:002003-03-31T16:26:38.466-08:00

catch up originally written 03.31.03 the last time we talked you could barely speak. strep throat made your voice weak. we barely spoke before then, i could barely call you friend. the end was years ago, several million tears ago. drove me insane driving you insane, striving to end a game. but now, again, nostalgia takes me over, maybe it lures over your shoulder too...something could brew...

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-917410422003-03-31T16:12:00.000-08:002003-03-31T16:12:17.060-08:00

above my knees originally written 03.31.03 i could only wish to burn above my knees to learn the fires of desire that sear away each tear that i've ever cried. burn me dry. i want to burnt to ashes and to the masses form a phoenix flying and end this dying. become a soaring flame and rise above the games.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-895709762003-02-22T15:29:00.000-08:002003-02-22T15:29:41.963-08:00

update: fruitbasket will be completed in due time...sorry for the delay. i've been pulling my creative focuses on songwriting at the point, and i've gone toward the indie-rock/almost-punk-or-emo genre...thus facilitating more emotional output, and subjective freedom in my writing, at least i feel that way. song lyrics and poems will be posted soon...thank you for your patience!

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-885930632003-02-05T07:30:00.000-08:002003-02-05T07:30:54.000-08:00

falling off (a mundane morning) originally written 02.05.03 get up get up! the alarm is blaring right in my ear. seems like no one's staring, i don't wanna be here. and when they're staring, it's not what i think. seems like no one's caring, and i'm on the brink of falling off the face of the earth. i'm questioning my personal worth. i'm sitting, all alone in this room and all i really want is

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-882966142003-01-30T16:21:00.000-08:002003-01-30T16:23:06.000-08:00

smashcrash originally written 01.29.03 (not to be confused with my other poem crash/smash) smash, crash: the sound i make when i hit the ground when you talk to me. you've broken me down, shattered me down to the very smallest piece. i fall for it, i fall for you everytime, i guess i am your fool. smash, crash: you smash me send me crashing to the ground. smash, crash: you bring my hopes up,

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-875456602003-01-16T10:49:00.000-08:002003-01-16T10:49:21.656-08:00

hip-hop originally written 01.16.03 as a rapper, and an avid listener of hip-hop music for a good portion of my life, i've been able to hear good hip-hop and bad hip-hop. unfortunately, in the past few years, i feel that popular hip-hop music has taken a turn for the worse, at least from where it started. it's really difficult to find good hip-hop groups like jurassic 5, the roots, a tribe called

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873717582003-01-13T13:35:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:35:44.050-08:00

after cleaning out my drawers, i found a lot of old material...so, i present to you most of that material, even some of the stuff i'm embarassed about. also, somewhere in the mix, there is one new poem...but, seven out of the eight new poems are older material, i don't even remember the dates on some of them. well, you'll get to see how i've evolved (or de-evolved) as a writer...i hope, in some

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873716052003-01-13T13:32:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:32:28.343-08:00

swimming originally written 06.18.02 i wrote this? i want to feel the waves crash against our bodies. to swim in the ocean of our love with you would give me the sweetest, wildest rapture. i want to share this rapture with you. the contact, the sweet sweat, our euphoria. emotions our ocean cannot wash away. emotions our ocean breeds and multiplies. holding your body so close to me, keeping you

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873713382003-01-13T13:26:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:26:27.180-08:00

crash/smash originally written 01.11.03 i would like an invisible car to crash into me, smash me into little pieces. i would like the driver to put me back together and see every bit of who i am-- what i am. somewhere in the process, this driver would breathe new life into my body...send new blodd through my veins.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873711972003-01-13T13:23:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:23:28.660-08:00

right path? originally written 07.22.mm it's really weird looking at this poem...i still feel the same way about what i was writing...despite my anger towards america in this poem, i still would like to say God bless america. what is this so-called right path? we're taught to respect diversity, yet many advertising their right path condemn and condescend natural diversity. who's to say what's

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873706372003-01-13T13:11:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:11:25.583-08:00

eight.fourteen//oh.two originally written 08.14.02 after falling asleep in the lonely darkness i found myself lying awake in a mysterious land of articulate perfection. the sun shone perfectly, not too hot nor cold. the breeze blew wonderfully, in seemed that all objects were beautiful glass sculptures. i fell in love with this mysterious dreamland... only to realize that it was not a dream, but

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873703372003-01-13T13:04:00.000-08:002003-01-13T13:04:48.890-08:00

sitting here composition date: early 2002... i'm sitting here impatiently staring at the phone waiting for you to call-- wondering if you're going to call... hoping you'll call. *ring* hello? *click* damned telemarketers. still sitting, still staring, still waiting, still wondering, still hoping. i just want to talk to you. if only i could hear your voice... hell, even better, if i could see

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873701002003-01-13T12:59:00.000-08:002003-01-13T12:59:48.103-08:00

quickwrite: it's on its own now... i don't know the composition date of this either...it was a writing excercise from my ap*english class last year from mrs. hahn...i wrote a lot of good stuff in that class, i just happened to find this while cleaning out my drawers. i miss mrs. hahn... a boy was born in the wilderness, amongst the sounds of wailing police cars, below the roof-tops of apartment

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873697292003-01-13T12:51:00.000-08:002003-01-13T12:51:46.610-08:00

(instapoem) i don't know when i wrote this...but, it was one of those things where your word choice is limited to, like, 30 words...so...here it is. a memory of you the fire that i have as the smoke is drifting i lose you the orchid in the rubble piles of memory crush me trying always for you i lose you i like you you change me you ruin me you lose me

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-873695792003-01-13T12:48:00.000-08:002003-01-13T12:48:33.370-08:00

five-ten. now... originally written 08.09.02 is this where i want to be? i used to be so sure where i wanted to be. i never was wrong... it's just that i know where i want to be five-ten years from now: a nice home, a loving wife, a job i love, a family i can support and be there for. the thing is that i never know where i want to be now, five-ten minutes from now. has this completely blurred

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-872483562003-01-10T19:29:00.000-08:002003-01-10T19:32:47.000-08:00

banana originally written 01.10.03 so ripe, so ready... it's so hard to stay steady. you don't know me, for real... you'll achieve that after you peel me...when you no longer conceal me from your eyes... then you'll realize that this banana was one bad mamma-jamma. --[ mig's banana is longer. ]--

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-870799252003-01-07T14:28:00.000-08:002003-01-07T14:28:29.590-08:00

i'm back. below, you'll find my catch-up posts for fruitbasket. enjoy.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-870799032003-01-07T14:27:00.000-08:002003-01-07T14:32:57.000-08:00

strawberry originally written 01.05.02 those strawberries were very, very sweet...dipped in whipped cream-- from a chocolate covered dream. i remember how you fed me those strawberries. the flavor carried its way from the fruit to your finger, the juice lingered and dripped so lightly, so slightly, in that gentle way... i could think about this for days. this sweet euphoria with the sweet

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-870798072003-01-07T14:25:00.000-08:002003-01-07T14:34:10.000-08:00

pineapple originally written 01.03.02 a pineapple had been dropped in an apple pie. this tropical fruit must've slipped the baker's eye. all these apple slices act like it's a crisis if there's something different-- really, what's the difference? so what if the pie is slightly diversified? if there's something unique, you label it a freak. this pineapple will never be the apple you want it to be

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-868189472003-01-01T23:18:00.000-08:002003-01-01T23:18:10.856-08:00

tomorrow came originally written 01.01.02 the next day dawned... same old song... but for me, a new key. destiny still calls... i still fall. flailing down, alone looking for my true home. answers are still being sought, i still long to be caught up in a storm... longing to be warm. tomorrow came, calling my name... this year came so cold. are there more stories to be told?

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-868185932003-01-01T23:06:00.000-08:002003-01-01T23:06:53.500-08:00

i promise to get back to the poetry suite...i haven't been keeping up lately...but, i haven't had many chances...i'll be back.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-865815572002-12-27T00:55:00.000-08:002002-12-27T00:55:54.593-08:00

destiny, so distant originally written 12.27.02 destiny, so distant, is calling, while thoughts are brawling, crawling over eachother, smothered in themselves, and they dwell...in this mental hell. destiny, so distant... so far? but so close? close enough to touch, but such...too far to reach. while each dream could tear at the seams, can stay sewn tight... in chaos, everything's alright.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-864589192002-12-23T17:48:00.000-08:002002-12-23T17:48:25.626-08:00

overflow originally written 12.21.02 sugarcoat me in your honey flavored love. mix my heart with yours until the cup overflows. your body's a bakery and i'm the ingredients. we're both perishable, so baking is immediate-- immediately needed, this dough must be kneaded. only then can we rise together, synchronized. left to settle together because we're too hot. us cool down? never. because we're

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-864584962002-12-23T17:35:00.000-08:002002-12-23T17:35:50.000-08:00

[ haiku set : freedom lost ] originally written 12.21.02 no one's really free. we live in a caged world. nobody can fly. be the butterfly. be free and flutter away. live your illusion. throw away the key. lock me in your politics. you've imprisoned me. secure my homeland. be the watchful big brother. privacy is lost.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-863339822002-12-20T13:02:00.000-08:002002-12-20T13:02:34.396-08:00

orange originally written 12.18.02 is there more past the peel? substance concealed, can the citizens of citrus possibly feel what i have to express? to those who fail to impress. to my neighbors i address this multi-verbal mess. nothing rhymes with this county-- conservatism is amounting to a fundamentalist function resulting in political disjunction. while neo-nazis walk proudly i still should

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-861718782002-12-17T08:36:00.000-08:002002-12-17T08:36:54.670-08:00

fantasyland originally written 12.17.02 i'd see perfection, pretty faces, soft voices. nothing to regret i would live my life the way that i wanted to. i'd reach for those stars. from the moon and back i'd be able to travel. true love prevails. there's no more static. i would cut the dramatics until i'm on stage. there'd be no more tears, i would say goodbye to fear. things would be all good

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-860202672002-12-14T22:27:00.000-08:002002-12-14T22:27:22.390-08:00

[ l o s t ] originally written 12.14.02 lost...that's the cost for all the things i've done-- like when i broke the sun. took away light, no sight for those who wanted to see what it would like to be with me. karma sucks, it sucks me in i sink to swim, i sink it in. i've paid the price, i prayed to christ. no answers, just silence. inside me: emo-violence. i cry...but no shoulders. sometimes, i

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-859605412002-12-13T12:22:00.000-08:002002-12-13T12:26:38.000-08:00

apple originally written 12.13.02 look at those trees. the way that the breeze sways the red, yellow, and green. what a scene. the apples remind me of my childhood days. the apples in my lunch, the way they would crunch, sometimes whole, sometimes sliced, sometimes sauced, sometimes juiced. the apple computers, the machintoshes, which were probably shipped from some city near fuji, to some city

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-858653002002-12-11T16:25:00.000-08:002002-12-11T16:27:07.000-08:00

[ f r e a k ]me originally written 12.11.02 this poem has spawned out of my pure horniness, and longing to do some sort of social satire on the world's attitude toward sex. out of the two, and the factor of sexual deprivation, we get [ f r e a k ]me...let's do the math again: (nate's pure horniness + desire of social satire) * (nate's sexual deprivation)=[ f r e a k ]metake that to your math

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-857973902002-12-10T11:58:00.000-08:002002-12-10T11:58:50.823-08:00

verb originally written 12.10.02 spin, twist, crash, and swing. these are the verbs my emotions bring. crack, pull, turn, cry. sometimes i wanna stop, sometimes i wanna fly. eat, drink, work, sleep. sleeping's overrated, at night i wanna creep. sink, swim, crawl, fall. there are things you gotta do if you wanna stand tall. see, feel, taste, hear. until we do these, the unknown we fear. bleed,

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-856737012002-12-08T01:22:00.000-08:002002-12-08T01:22:37.000-08:00

alvin originally written 12.08.02 alvin sees the world in slow-motion greyscape hues. he's lost with nothing to lose, a fool, constantly singing his blues. alvin sings the blues, the selfish-i'm-so-depressed pity. for him, there's nothing that's pretty. he sings his depressing song to the city. alvin walks through the city alone, abandoned, abandoning, accusing that which was good, that which

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-856345532002-12-07T02:35:00.000-08:002002-12-07T02:35:58.846-08:00

up (prozac) originally written 12.07.02 when you've had enough where is up? when you've been pulled down, down, down... when no one's around how can you turn a frown that's lingered for a long while into a genuine smile? can you transform dark into some sort of spark? some sort of light? someone tell me things will be alright. where's that someone?

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-855836012002-12-06T00:53:00.000-08:002002-12-06T00:56:07.000-08:00

today, in conjunction with poet miguel de leon...we've started a project. here's our press release: mig: it's a poetic experiment on self-evaluated comparitive poetry. (underbreath) take that, BS. poetry on the subject of fruits. (aside) hahaha. nate: an idea birthed from sleep deprivation at a few minutes past midnight. late at night, we tend to think of fruit-- and adrenaline rushes fading into

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-855506502002-12-05T11:12:00.000-08:002002-12-05T11:12:42.850-08:00

oh.five originally written 11.02.02 (?) i'd like to stop time if only for an eternal moment-- a minute that would last infinitely a non-existant minute to show the world the best of me... as time goes on, you'll want to see the rest of me... with hopes you'll be impressed with me.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-855499182002-12-05T10:57:00.000-08:002002-12-05T11:07:23.000-08:00

tomorrowland originally written 12.05.02 flashing lights and flying cars don't mean a thing if i can't be where you are. tomorrow, next week, next month, i'd grow weak if they couldn't be spent the way that they were meant. today is hell, tomorrow might as well be the same way since i don't have you today.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-855487662002-12-05T10:32:00.000-08:002002-12-05T10:33:05.000-08:00

frontierland originally written 12.05.02 my journey into the unknown is fullblown, never knowing where i'm going, or what's next. i trek, blaze another path try to do the math: if i depart from point a while point b is a thousand miles away traveling at a rate of fifty miles a day what's the next thing i'll say? constantly looking for new states, new gates no one's ever been through a place no

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-855279902002-12-05T00:11:00.000-08:002002-12-05T00:11:44.413-08:00

carpool originally written 10.31.02 it'd be nice to have a carpool-- someone to keep me company on this lonely drive. a voice different from the radio, a voice addressing me... a voice to sing with... to harmonize with my lonely solo. so lonely am i on this darkened road, only kept awake by the occasional bump. driven crazy by the silence in my vehicle... the vacancy in the passenger seat... i

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854976022002-12-04T12:09:00.000-08:002002-12-04T12:09:05.846-08:00

fight fightoriginally written 12.03.02 fight fight. give me a light. when it's done: no one's left. just a mess...is this right? fight fight. what's in sight? bloody hell, bloody bodies. what a mess...this isn't right. fight fight. tragedy for delight. eye for an eye, we're going blind. fighting this war everyday, every night. fight fight. killing without spite. is this really making things

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854936302002-12-04T10:40:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:40:51.933-08:00

pathetic girloriginally written 07.15.02 no more fake smiles. the insincere greetings will no longer affect me. everywhere i go, genuine sincerity will greet me. your fakeness is of no concern of me. it's a shame that it rubbed off onto a good young boy. a boy who had potential to be a great person... but now, all i see is tarnish. pity. why must everyone be like you in order for you to love

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854935592002-12-04T10:38:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:38:47.310-08:00

[ which ] r o a d . . .originally written 07.12.02 where do i go? which road do i take? do i take the off-ramp in a few miles, or do i stay on the expressway? if i take the off-ramp then i'll be faced with slower moving traffic, unfamiliar speeds, unfamiliar vehicles. i'll miss the pace of the traffic, i'll have to deal with the stop and go of the signals. the road signs will look different, my

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854934982002-12-04T10:37:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:37:25.916-08:00

[ m o v i n g ] dayoriginally written 07.11.02 i'm moving away i'll still be around but i won't be able to visit the places i fondly remember. i've nowhere to live now but i can't live here anymore at least not right now. where do i go? how do you get used to new surroundings, and how do you get over the fact that you can't visit the places that you most fondly remember?

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854934412002-12-04T10:36:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:36:03.680-08:00

[ m ] emory | (b) ookoriginally written 07.09.02 what do you do with a book of memories that is filled with pictures and still-frames that are bring very few fond recollections. the pictures should be faded, but are burned into the darkest corners of my mind. i try to shoved these portraits as far back into my mind as possible, and if possible, i shove them away. my camera still takes snap shots

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854933762002-12-04T10:34:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:34:44.680-08:00

[ r e : c o n s ] tr ( u ) c | tionoriginally written 07.08.02 now that the storm has cleared the ground is still damp. wet. slippery. my umbrella has not lost its form. the sun still shines. glistens. it is slowly drying the ground. i cannot let myself cause another storm. i cannot let the rain destroy my garden once more. tomorrow is not guaranteed. the sun is not guaranteed. i will not take

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854933102002-12-04T10:33:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:33:04.976-08:00

d i [ s ] ar [ r | a ] y?originally written 07.06.02 life in a glass house. don't touch the rocks. enjoy the beautiful world surrounding the house. stay away from the rocks. the rocks gave you pain. the rocks made you cry. the rocks are in the past. stay away from the rocks. forget about the rocks. just enjoy the blessed view of the world around you. don't walk toward the rock box. stay away

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854932442002-12-04T10:31:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:31:39.413-08:00

walkingoriginally written 06.24.02 walking... walking... walking... bliss is the wind. the sun is all but a smile. sweetness is the smell and taste. love is the atmosphere. walking... walking... walking...

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854931462002-12-04T10:29:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:29:24.880-08:00

senior ap*english final essay 2 [ essay number nine | growing pains ] I cannot deny that I have gone through a lot of painful experiences throughout high school. I have also gone through a lot of relationships throughout high school. A lot of friendships have gone awry. With the fate of those relationships came a lot of hurt. With the hurt, came a lot of personal growth. The pain that I have

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854931032002-12-04T10:28:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:28:22.236-08:00

senior ap*english final essay 1 [ essay number two | friendship ] friend /frend/ n. 1. one with whom one enjoys mutual affection and regard. 2. sympathizer, helper. friend·ship /fréndship/ n. 1. being friends; relationship between friends 2. friendly disposition felt or shown. Friendship has meant so much to me in high school, even more so in life. I only recently realized the importance of

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854928892002-12-04T10:23:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:23:06.953-08:00

[learning] p r i v a c yoriginally written 08.06.02 i'm learning how tokeep things private.somethings are bestkept to yourself,or between two people.sometimes the thingskept between two peopleare part of the bondthat keeps the twotogether...so i'mlearning. once thosethings are broughtpublic, i'm learningthat the bond is broken.it's not so muchof a secret...but athing of respect.so, maybe i'm

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854928532002-12-04T10:22:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:22:10.763-08:00

in [ s e c u r i t y ]originally written 08.06.02 where do i wannabe? do i wannastay where i knowthat love can befound? or do i wannasow my wild oatsand abandon thissecurity known aslove? i recognize allthe beauty surroundingme. before, i thoughtit as a gift, but nowi realize it is too,a curse. i do notwish to forsake mylove, for i knowthat sacrificing thatmay be sacrificing itforever. going

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854927912002-12-04T10:21:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:21:15.123-08:00

silhouettesoriginally written 08.07.02 asleep next to my lover...dreaming a dream, where i've woken up alone, next to a burning candle...somehow, i'm mystically drawn to the door...only to open it and see a silhouette of a stranger...i'm drawn to this stranger, as if we were two magnets physically trying to connect...running through the moonlit forest...this dark silhouette jumps into my arms...

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854927542002-12-04T10:20:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:20:18.246-08:00

[ o h ]dearoriginally written 08.12.02 the things that once seemedright, and made sense tome yesterday, don't really makesense anymore. the thingsi believed in, the things that ifought for, and worked sohard for, don't seem to be asworth it as i used to think. how doi let go of the efforts thati so strongly believed in? it's likewinning the lottery and realizing thatyou don't really want the

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854927102002-12-04T10:19:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:19:19.573-08:00

what's next?originally written 08.16.02 look at what i'vedone. i've left myselfin a place sonew to me. a placei never knew could beso desirable to be.i've gotta be me.but now, this placeis so different fromwhere i am used tobeing. nothing isfamiliar...things unwantedare now things i longfor. this place allows me toindependent and free.i've gotta be me.i'm not lookingback, but only forward.eyes

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854926612002-12-04T10:18:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:18:23.120-08:00

[ inspiration ]originally written 08.18.02 what inspires me?what has insprired mein the past? who will bethe next person toprovide me a well ofinspiration? i was inspiredonce before...but i couldn'thold on to the muse. i had tolet go. normally theact of letting gocan provide inspiration,but the theme becomesall too familiar. i longto be inspired again.inspire me...i longto inspire someone theway

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854925482002-12-04T10:16:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:16:44.000-08:00

fall... originally written 08.20.02 am i the ink fromwhich your pen spills?i read these wordsand i cannot helpbut wonder if iam the inspirationbehind the verbs,adjectives, and nounsso beautifully composedbefore my eyes.is think pure wonderment,or is it really hopingand longing? oh howi longed for youwhen the leaves lastturned, only tofind you in someoneelses's arms...thepain of unrequited

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854924552002-12-04T10:14:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:14:05.100-08:00

[ p a c k i n g ](up)originally written 08.01.02 i originally wrote this august first...but, i had to make this one private on my regular diary...so, here's a loophole...i hate having to censor myself, but...it doesn't really matter anymore...okay...without any further ado...packing up... i've packed my bagsfull of memories,tears, and smiles.now, i finally seethings your way...or at least i

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854923962002-12-04T10:12:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:12:31.273-08:00

[ br) -o-ke[n} dreamoriginally written 08.20.02 for so long i yearnedjust to hold you...but was unable to.for days, i've beenwondering if this isreally happening...i'm actually chasing whati thought was merelya broken dream...a dream that neverreally ended...now,lying awake, i cansee how the dreamplays out...i guessi never had tosleep to dream.

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3995429.post-854923472002-12-04T10:11:00.000-08:002002-12-04T10:11:30.006-08:00

oh.oneoriginally written 08.20.02 (so far, this poem is untitled...not to confuse this with other untitled poems in the future, this one will be referred to as oh.one--as in "01") beautiful girl,i never got to saythe words i wanted, the wayi wished you to hearfor i fearedthat nothing would change.now rearranged are our lives,and so we tryto experience extensionsonce beyond our comprehensions,

natehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02914578600530871150noreply@blogger.com0