| so... | ||||
| 02:24am 22/01/2004 | ||||
i'm thinking about making my angelfire website into a place where i could upload my poetry and you could read it. let me know if you'd like that idea. if i don't hear back from anyone, it won't happen. so, here is my wonderful masterpiece about the paperclip: Of Makers and Masters I gaze upon your smooth sleek surface Blinking slightly as the light from your skin Strikes me in the eyes I cradle you softly Staining your surface with my fingertips The evidence is everywhere Traces of our encounter left All over your virgin body Memories of the day I lifted you Took you from the womb And made you mine. I've become your god Making you in my own image Stealing your once simple shape And forming you anew Dance for me my darling In the palm of my hand As I mold you, twist you, torture you I can hear your screams Though the others can't There is no need to cry, child We must all walk through the fire Or we shall never be refined We must be tested, contorted, broken Before we can become truly beautiful _____ night... marc "i hate myself" me....yea "I hold the world as but the world, Graziano - A stage where every man must play a part And mine a sad one" - Antonio (The Merchant of Venice) |
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exhausted| wow, this came from nowhere | ||||
| 11:04am 22/01/2004 | ||||
So now I'm remembering why 8 o' clock classes suck. Oh yeah, they're earlier than Christmas in July. Oh well. It's weird, today I was standing right next to a couple loose aquaintances and they simply reneged on their commitment to bring me excitingly useless face-saving conversation. You know, by doing that thing that the meaner ones of us do; simply pretending to not notice we're right next to them when obviously you know it and they know it. But nothing is said. In any case, it was not a huge loss, as the wee hours of the morning efface my desire for lackluster image maintenance anyways. Though lately I have been thinking significantly about this concept of what I call "fluidity in relationships"--that cruelest of ideas which explains that our dearest friends, by means of time and noncommitment, will eventually delve into the 'aquaintance zone' and ultimately into the void of regretful memory. What a sad state of affairs; I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Should it simply be ridden off as "the way of things"? Or should we contest and fight it with all our might? The lazy boy inside says to heed the former, but the Spirit inside(or perhaps the Michael W. Smith inside...) says "friends are friends forever, if the Lord's the Lord of them." I know that God does not forget his friends, but cares for them deeply and is actively involved with them even to the point of sacrificing His life for them. After all, He calls us His friends. What an impossible thought. Though, to be sure, it seems like often He is silent. Annoyingly silent. Frustratingly silent. Painfully silent. What am I to make of this? Perhaps if I could say I was upholding my part of our relationship I could ask God what His deal is. But I'm not, so as always the ball is in my court. If only I knew how to play tennis. Does the Spirit call us to be nicer than we want to be? To my continued shock I'm finding that niceness is not a spiritual fruit, but rather kindness. To me, to aspire for the glaze of superficial 'niceness' is shallow, but to truly care for others, to invest more than a smile in "HOWDY!", and to have a pulse from the heart of God is to see people the way they really are: just like you, tired, confused, awkward,...and fallen. And in response to that, treat them the way you want to be treated. Because you know you want to see smiles from the heart and conversations that do more than keep you up-to-date on what's going on. The weather is fine, I'm doing good, how 'bout those Patriots, and have a great day. |
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weird| apt37 | ||
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