I......have alot on my mind.
Here is a new one
Attach means, Identity
I am the ghost in the garden
The four letter lie
Whispered in your ear
Until you start to cry
I am the honest mistake
A simple regret
The only thing left
All you’ll ever get
I am the surgeon
That finally sees
He alone is the disease
I am still water
That you drank deep
I am the nightmare
The reason you fear to sleep
I am the ambulance
That will take you home
I am the sidewalk
Where you lay all alone
I am the blood
All over your hands
I am the answer
That youll never understand
I am the outlook
However bleak
I am the words
Spoken so tongue in cheek
I am the starter
I will light the match
I am the destruction
I am quite the catch
I am the whisper
That to hear you strain
I am the problem
And source of your pain
I am lust and envy all-right
I am the dark
I make up the night
I am empty
But promise nevertheless
All you wanted
In all excess
I am the door
Closing at last
I am the credits rolling
The carnivorous cast
I am the headlight
Thats getting dim
And instead of getting you out
Im leading you further in
I am the hopeless
The pursuit of truth
I am not real
Yet still living proof
I am honest
And open
Cunning and shy
I am the reason
That I will die
I am the outcast
Calling your name
I am the lonely
And you are the same
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
If a fountain did fall from the sky there would be a thousand witnesses.
So I don't have a post ready because I have been busy but I decided to post something that caught my attention. So If you havent heard of the Band The Sound Of Animals Fighting yet consider yourself excuseless now. Any way they are a group of musicians from a bunch of different bands who come together to make a really experimental sound. I was listening to the latest album called The Ocean and The Sun to a song called "Uzbekistan" and noticed that there was something being read underneath the ending of the song. Intrigued I checked it out online and found what was being read and it is amazing....... I'm not sure who wrote them but I found them very inspiring from a writing and life perspective. Anyway here it is.....
from: "Uzbekistan"
I don't understand French, but if I could,
I would write beautiful songs about horrible things...
because it is said to be the language of love and romance...
and if love didn't exist, there wouldn't be any horrible things.
You must care to cry, love something in order to hate something...
You must have a heart in order for it to be broken.
Many people walk in a dream.
They feel entitled to happiness and feel anger when it is not waiting for them.
I know that the world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.
It is our own perception we get to bend and mold to our liking-
once that is accomplished, the reality we once knew begins to change.
My neighbor may be dark and gloomy, but I find it a perfect day to go outside.
I can knock on his door, but that doesn't mean he will answer.
And I will have to walk away, sad, from his little house
where he sleeps and smokes and drinks all day,
just to escape what he does not yet know.
We find ourselves in little boxes watching little boxes.
We see an edited version of human life, targeted on alienating us as individuals,
to distract us from the seedy underbelly of politics and business.
We are products of a Machiavellian society.
Look at the pretty girl dancing- her hair is so shiny.
I want my hair to be shiny. Look at the man with chizzled features-
use the razor he is using. It will give you the kind of charm that woman crave.
Women will want you. Men will adore you. You will be happy. You will be empty.
Because it is not about the product, but the feeling they try to convey.
And it is not for your benefit, it is for the benefit of the holders of the company.
We must burn our little boxes. We must create dialogue.
We must realize the importance of every moment.
We must turn our boredom to gratitude.
Use your hands, your thoughts, your hunger.
These things are yours and yours alone.
from: "Uzbekistan"
I don't understand French, but if I could,
I would write beautiful songs about horrible things...
because it is said to be the language of love and romance...
and if love didn't exist, there wouldn't be any horrible things.
You must care to cry, love something in order to hate something...
You must have a heart in order for it to be broken.
Many people walk in a dream.
They feel entitled to happiness and feel anger when it is not waiting for them.
I know that the world owes me nothing, yet has given me a great deal.
It is our own perception we get to bend and mold to our liking-
once that is accomplished, the reality we once knew begins to change.
My neighbor may be dark and gloomy, but I find it a perfect day to go outside.
I can knock on his door, but that doesn't mean he will answer.
And I will have to walk away, sad, from his little house
where he sleeps and smokes and drinks all day,
just to escape what he does not yet know.
We find ourselves in little boxes watching little boxes.
We see an edited version of human life, targeted on alienating us as individuals,
to distract us from the seedy underbelly of politics and business.
We are products of a Machiavellian society.
Look at the pretty girl dancing- her hair is so shiny.
I want my hair to be shiny. Look at the man with chizzled features-
use the razor he is using. It will give you the kind of charm that woman crave.
Women will want you. Men will adore you. You will be happy. You will be empty.
Because it is not about the product, but the feeling they try to convey.
And it is not for your benefit, it is for the benefit of the holders of the company.
We must burn our little boxes. We must create dialogue.
We must realize the importance of every moment.
We must turn our boredom to gratitude.
Use your hands, your thoughts, your hunger.
These things are yours and yours alone.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Story has shown you all felt alone.
long day....... Mass this morning was very good. Sleep is improving however very slightly, I take what i can get. I cant believe how much i weight i let myself carry
With the fear of love...
Leave and let be
Read from the tapestry
Echoes in vanity
Across all ideas overcome by need
Slept still and alone in cold
Treacherous barters for the soul
And I all most let slip
As she said just one sip and fell back to sleep
And the crumbling brick decay
In the somber of the shade
That the tyrants had lay
When they thought it was safe
Live and let be
Who ever said this was meant for you
Whoever said it was meant for me
Is almost as deadly
As lying in the liars bed
Its trading soft seas for the lion’s den
And the silence spoke it still
As you softly closed the door
I remember what im supposed to be
With the fear of love...
Leave and let be
Read from the tapestry
Echoes in vanity
Across all ideas overcome by need
Slept still and alone in cold
Treacherous barters for the soul
And I all most let slip
As she said just one sip and fell back to sleep
And the crumbling brick decay
In the somber of the shade
That the tyrants had lay
When they thought it was safe
Live and let be
Who ever said this was meant for you
Whoever said it was meant for me
Is almost as deadly
As lying in the liars bed
Its trading soft seas for the lion’s den
And the silence spoke it still
As you softly closed the door
I remember what im supposed to be
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I know what it feels like giving in to something you dont understand........
This was written some time ago for St. Lucy. St Lucy was a martyr for her faith, she promised her body to God but was forced to marry. After she refused her husband he turned her over to the authorties who asked her to renounce her faith. She refused, but when they tried to move her her body would not budge and she stood as a mountain. She said that whatever they do to her body could not really harm her because her will was with God. They tortured her by plucking out her eyes and stabbed her repeatedly but she still proclaimed her faith till death. I wrote this as God speaking to Lucy. Her loyalty to her beliefs should stand as encouragement to all. I wish that I like Lucy could stand with such conviction in the midst of suffering.
Only has eyes for you
What love my love you have shown
For I knew you were to love me so
And even when they would lift your hand
Their idols fell before you
Betrothed to me his you could never be
A purest love they will never know
For forever you shall sit
Beside a mightier throne
I know you love , what love you have shown
You are mine my child my lover
This you must know
I have sent you forward
And I send you still
To show them a love that
They can never kill
Guiltless you are to me
For I know your will
Can never be their purpose
And what to your body they do
Will never happen to you
My ghost is at your side
You they will never move
They may take your eyes
But my sight you will never lose
I know you love , what love you have shown
You are mine my child my lover
This you must know
I have sent you forward
And I send you still
To show them a love that
They can never kill
Pure and radiant you are with me now
Only has eyes for you
What love my love you have shown
For I knew you were to love me so
And even when they would lift your hand
Their idols fell before you
Betrothed to me his you could never be
A purest love they will never know
For forever you shall sit
Beside a mightier throne
I know you love , what love you have shown
You are mine my child my lover
This you must know
I have sent you forward
And I send you still
To show them a love that
They can never kill
Guiltless you are to me
For I know your will
Can never be their purpose
And what to your body they do
Will never happen to you
My ghost is at your side
You they will never move
They may take your eyes
But my sight you will never lose
I know you love , what love you have shown
You are mine my child my lover
This you must know
I have sent you forward
And I send you still
To show them a love that
They can never kill
Pure and radiant you are with me now
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
denying us all of the moment...
Thats why you never mention my name to them...
Today was uneventful. Still not sleeping which is driving me up the wall. Well at least I have a lot of time to write. So i watched a clip of Jackie Kennedy yesterday and was inspired. This was produced:
I cry for you Jackie O…..
He was the best of us
And I cant recall what you said before
But I know that you said
“They killed my husband Jack, Jack!”
Like you could will the gun
To take the bullet back
He was the best of us
And we let you down
When we forced you to put
His body in the ground
It was a beauty November
The San Antonio sun
Everyone can remember
But you were the one
Who could never forget
What did you say to him as you cradled him in your arms?
Did you tell him that you loved him?
Did you feel his heart?
His blood on your blouse
Your heart in pursuit
The red stains
On your pink Chanel suit
You where there when he died
Oh Jackie O
The nation cried
we loved him so
In his death sleep he still lingered
You put your diamond on his finger
In the dirt his body set
And you whispered
“I have nothing left.”
I cry for you Jackie O
A sorrow that I may never know
He was the best of us
Today was uneventful. Still not sleeping which is driving me up the wall. Well at least I have a lot of time to write. So i watched a clip of Jackie Kennedy yesterday and was inspired. This was produced:
I cry for you Jackie O…..
He was the best of us
And I cant recall what you said before
But I know that you said
“They killed my husband Jack, Jack!”
Like you could will the gun
To take the bullet back
He was the best of us
And we let you down
When we forced you to put
His body in the ground
It was a beauty November
The San Antonio sun
Everyone can remember
But you were the one
Who could never forget
What did you say to him as you cradled him in your arms?
Did you tell him that you loved him?
Did you feel his heart?
His blood on your blouse
Your heart in pursuit
The red stains
On your pink Chanel suit
You where there when he died
Oh Jackie O
The nation cried
we loved him so
In his death sleep he still lingered
You put your diamond on his finger
In the dirt his body set
And you whispered
“I have nothing left.”
I cry for you Jackie O
A sorrow that I may never know
He was the best of us
Monday, February 9, 2009
Hold my Breath, Until communication is only just a test......
Yes!!! Second posts. Today is another insomnia clouded calculated time to walk the earth. I desprately need sleep. Well anyway I am working up the courage (lol) to close down the old myspace and facebook. It will be down soon I imagine, It haunts me and makes things worse for the wear. I mean The people I want to hear from are the ones who want to seek me out, not just check up on me. Feel free to here though it gives me consolation to know you care enough to stop by. Drop me a line.
-TAITA
ps. This is really weird because i havent sent anybody the address to the site.
oh and here is another poem fresh off the brain/heart.Enjoy.
Hold my Breath, Until communication is only just a test......
We live in the darkness of our collapsed lungs
Where the sounds of our own breathing
Are as hideous as a church organ to an atheist
Funneled air vibrate the cords
But real communication is beyond us
Our eyes can sometimes say
Save our souls
So much better than our empty breathe
Clouded and cluttered
Like all the dark streets
And dirty sheets
We wrap ourselves in
We are
Cold
And uninvited
Dressed up
To be let down
It’s a putrid ugly
Ordination of distorted honesty
But it’s captured our every means of communication
The distress we wear is so much
More appropriate
Than The calm pace
Of our conversation
We need this
We need to have no other way out
We need to exhaust all the wrong answers
To know the right one
And our failure is written on every face
In every picture
That lies of contentment
And in a race to find happiness
I found truth
Heinously murdered
On the floor with her back to me
And when I checked her pulse
I knew she wasn’t breathing
We can never be the same again
-TAITA
ps. This is really weird because i havent sent anybody the address to the site.
oh and here is another poem fresh off the brain/heart.Enjoy.
Hold my Breath, Until communication is only just a test......
We live in the darkness of our collapsed lungs
Where the sounds of our own breathing
Are as hideous as a church organ to an atheist
Funneled air vibrate the cords
But real communication is beyond us
Our eyes can sometimes say
Save our souls
So much better than our empty breathe
Clouded and cluttered
Like all the dark streets
And dirty sheets
We wrap ourselves in
We are
Cold
And uninvited
Dressed up
To be let down
It’s a putrid ugly
Ordination of distorted honesty
But it’s captured our every means of communication
The distress we wear is so much
More appropriate
Than The calm pace
Of our conversation
We need this
We need to have no other way out
We need to exhaust all the wrong answers
To know the right one
And our failure is written on every face
In every picture
That lies of contentment
And in a race to find happiness
I found truth
Heinously murdered
On the floor with her back to me
And when I checked her pulse
I knew she wasn’t breathing
We can never be the same again
Sunday, February 8, 2009
He makes it up as he goes.........
Hello all. If you have found this then you had to have looked for it. Great then you actually care or somewhat interested in what I am about. This is where im setting up shop. Im very sick of the facebook/myspace approach. I will post my thoughts as well as a lot of my writing! Both poetry and any other projects I have going. Thanks for finding me and keep checking back!
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