Pink Ink, Black Thoughts

mood: beguiled

locale: antique bed in new home

song: spiderman/sweethomealabama


a series of pretentious thoughts streaming live today.

new songs and collective poetry. i hate that this unreliability as a person and author to hopelessly never finish what i try to start.

i have so many thoughts and ideas, i can't seem to keep them straight long enough to write them down. i write some, take it down some, then completely lose focus and have to start on something different because a new thought struck gold down in the fathoms of my subconscious to spring a new source of musings into the present moment.

1.
i can only tell the truth by telling you a lie
stand there, watch you stare at me
first i tell you one--now its gone to three
it's a sequence of events that only you can call mine
new days but no more hope has come to life
these days it'd be best just close my eyes
take another second, hear it right there
breathe it in... the fresh new air
because its only in the moment now that i will
--feel this sane to say what i feel
just take my heart and rip it into pieces
its not worth the pain like it was before
so take this trampled being
nail it to your door
don't come calling, i won't answer
anymore

completely unaware of the hazard signs to date
roses have their thorns
but i still watch the gate
hoping to see that old familiar face
cheating the moment
beating the thief like heaven still has grace

2.
You love me and tell me not.
avoiding me is the only way you can protect my heart.
Your eyes tell our whole story, the fire behind the passion
the hidden attraction
Contact forgotten, only dreams; memories; and blue eyes that still hold my destiny
*Just two starcrossed lovers forced to play the part.

3.
what is time but the mere turn of a calendar page..
it lies and binds


4.
to the world i admit my selfishness, but to you, i lie in honesty. just to feel your love, and escape your wrath.
--i wrote that when i was about 12 years old.
i still come back to it. it's like my totem.

i found the two journals i had stashed away. one for future plans. one for thought of the moment. pink ink. black ink.
pink for hope springing new. black for past. black for concrete future.
pink for hope that will fail.
pink for revelation.
black for reality.
black for the casual reminder of what naturally happens.
#categorization

Collection of Misery

mood: anxious

locale: new antique bed

song: clock


i'm so nervous about this.
this is jacqui speaking, not annalise.

maybe it is annalise, but you know what, she doesn't have to go through this, curses.

g-rated profanities.
explatives.

you would think when you found out what your calling was [concerning spiritual matters] you would be elated. supernaturally relieved to have finally been chosen in the select few.. to have a special sticker placed on your forehead that knighted you as a carrier of truth in His ministry for the rest of you long lived life.

He reveal the pieces to you slowly.. you know one thing for sure.. just for Him to add something else to it.
so you think.
what if you can't handle the other part?
what if you think it's too big for you to fulfill?
what if you're the dreamer, again, in this scenario, and its just wishful thinking?
but would there be a burden for it?
what would happen to the rest of your life plans?
what if it all changes your thinking?
your behaviour to the point of drasticism?
phrase: "simplistic idealogies"
would be nice.

there's only so much i think i could physically do.
i need to search out what He really, REALLY means.
the other ones, i was fine with.
i could do those.
no prob. no big deal. i'd gotten used to them. been mentally preparing myself to go through it. to be educated in what would be expected. watching those i thought were good role models, and thinking to myself, i would like to be like that one day..
gradually trying to work their characteristics into my lifestyle--not mastered in the slightest.

But THIS??! come on.
i've told like.. one person. i take that back. i've told two people.
both were incredibly shocked.
because it's not something you would EVER see me doing.
EVER.
that's why it freaks me out.
they could be my shoes one day.

I'm willing to do whatever God wants. Honestly.
I've told him since I was 8 years old.
Remember? that time Bro. Joey sat you down, and asked you what you wanted to do for God?
what did you reply?
"the biggest thing possible."
what did he say to that?
"what do you mean? like to be a worship leader? a song/praise singer? what?"
and you said?
"even if its the smallest thing to me, and to everybody else, i want it to be the biggest thing i could do for Him. because it means i gave Everthing back."

I'm willing. I'd be a liar if i had told Him otherwise and not kept my promise.
He has my life in His hands.
That's why I'm careful.
I should be more careful.
more protective of what i've got.
what i've already given away.
to make ABSOLUTELY sure that it's His PERFECT will, not just what my flesh wants to happen.
Goodness knows where that's gotten us in the past.

especially when it comes to churched boys.
sometime i think it'd be ok if i just ruined my life.
but i can Never ruin someone else's ministry.
they may want what they want,
but let's put God first.
He'll tell us if it's right or not.
He's never been wrong before.

He's got so much in store.
how do we even know?
we don't.
who knows what He may bring forth tomorrow,
for He is the One who brings forth the wind.

When a Pillar Crumbles, So Goes the World

i have been working on a new piece:

with your petty crimes against a fascist world

the covenants broke, redeemed to knock on wood

when a moral falls and a system dies

when there's no longer drive to choke down the lie

when a pillar crumbles, so goes the world

haven't finished it yet.

but i rather like it(:

i found a collection of works online i found absolutely exhilarating.

i think i might enter a poetry contest.

just maybe.

you have to write it two weeks before the due date, on a spur of the moment whim.

but it sounds like it could be fun.

i just need to find out when the next entry date is.

i have recently learned that there are those that actually read this online sanctuary i thought i had created.

i put the address on skype just to seem cool. i honestly never imagined people would check up on it. i never do.

it makes me feel uncomfortable.

there's no more privacy here... even if it is just for prattle, nonsense.

so i might delete this one, and create a new one somewhere.. different site.. different alias..

i'm not sure when, how, but it'll come.

thank you to those who have anonymously followed.

but i need my space.

sorry.

Stillness Of Quiet is Just Where We Need To Be

mood: complacent

locale: my chouch

song: Oceans Twelve


Billowy, Mockingbird, Dewberry, Essential,

Bewitched..

words that capture the attention, and bring about a sense of familiarity upon instance.
like a dangling piece of glass suspended only by continual will of purpose.

i found my little journal of musings.. my sketches that render the dark humor and seriousness of conceptualism.

minority, senority, conglamoratory.

let the lillies whisper my tales of service and solitude,
the sun wretches my happiness in shambles of light,
pieces of my destiny shaped to yours,
arranged only by thoughts of my own magnitude.
my heart sees your folly but is blind by acknowledged blight,
and concedes to your care by entrapment.

stale is the day.

complete.

mood: frustrated

song: silence

locale: daybed in the drearyness

frustration can't even begin to describe the feelings i've just suffered. the most inconceivable of things to happen on a day like today.. it just makes me angry. and i have still much more to do. i need not to be worried. there is always another day, another start to life just waiting around the corner, i just haven't found it yet.

arrival at any certain time is always questionable in this day and age. we are met with too many variables, and not enough stationary articles to keep the body grounded for more than two minutes of a time.

i miss my mum. and my papa. neither are available for chatting today.):

i am, however, excited that i have an interview tomorrow at Victoria's Secret. its beautiful to me. i can't really explain why.. but i just find it to be so. maybe its because it so brash, or its because they flaunt the form of the female body, and i'm so attracted to the idea of being beautiful in every sense.

beauty to me is someitmes different than what it would be to others. conceptual art, i have decided, is my favorite. or post impressionism. i love art. i love color, and vibrancy, and challenges and form and line and structure and concept behind matter and everything thats the least bit..odd.

maybe you couldn't tell. doesn't really matter. i just go for whats distinguishably classy.

xoxox

The eye to the soul gazes at me through the trees,

Mimicking the whispers my lover tells me.

Come hither from here,

Come thither to me,

Hold open your hand as we catch gentle breeze.

Softly they caress,

Special care to my bosom,

Lulling me into the chasm of dreams.

Frame me with words of a soft moon kiss,

Carry me tenderly across angry sea.

On wings of your light I see without cause,

Falling to bliss in blind single slumber.

My tears have gone darkly,

Pale memories to hold.

Sing to me sweet,

The lullaby of Fear,

And tie me to rhythm I no longer hear.

mood: complacent

locale: daybed in the sun

song: lullaby

i've lost all precepts of life. the former idols that i had put up now seem so useless in comparison to the gods constructed now.

as i see it, animal crackers have become my new best friends. oh btw, dont i look simply dashing in that picture? well, obviously, it isn't me. but it is, its like our souls have connected somehow.

have you ever stopped to listen to the melody of the grass blades? or the drum of the birds wing? or listened to the whispered tales of love passed between the branches of the graceful birch trees?

.."i've got, da da da inside my head and i play songs back to back before i go to bed.."

i feel so neglectful when it comes to this page. really, its quite sad. i love to write down the musings of my day when it comes to this spot.. i just rarely ever take the time.

i've started a small book of dark poetry and scribblings. it helps to pass the lonesomeness and the feelings of self pity. when i think of someone else having a horrible death of the life of a loved one ripped away, somehow it helps. morbid? maybe. but you should maybe pick it up. just buy a small journal and scibble in it the dealings of your heart at the hour. you'll be amazed at what you find.

babies awake. must vanquish. Love.