Old bits of writing
Apr. 18th, 2005 01:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valis2I was going through old folders of my writing while watching SW:AotC, and found a few interesting bits. Haven't posted old writing in a little while, so I thought I'd torture you all again...
Two lines that made me think:
My baby wishes have been burnt at the stake. This doesn't mean "wishes to have a baby". It means my silly childhood dreams felt like they were gone.
Bring me your heart-shaped jumper cables. The more I read this line, the more it amuses and fascinates me. What the hell was I thinking? I wrote soooo much bad poetry...
Then I found a couple of interesting things. I'll put these one under a cut because it's long.
Part One is pretty boring/angsty and has little to recommend it, so I won't bother typing that in, but Part Two was a pretty interesting find. I have no idea when I wrote the Parts. I must have been in my early twenties is all I can figure out, if I analyze the level of Angst to Thought. It's a bit teenagery and a bit angsty...click only if you're interested.
Stream of Consciousness Part Two
Dust, dust. Patterns in the dust, disrupted so easily, ever-changing; nothing happens new, all has been done and said before, we break no new ground. But spin your spiderwebs of illusion, build your crystal castle, my dear; it's all right to dream. Just don't dream too high, because you'll fall in the end, and life will be grey dust again. She shivers and lights another candle, praying once more to the Earth, her mother, to give her peace of mind. There is no response, of course, but dimly, in the back of her thoughts, she can feel the dirt, the warm suffocating black earth that lies under her fingernails, in her hair, strewn in her backyard, trapped beneath pavement. It is real, it is dirt; she understands it, knows its purpose. She can stand on it. Her eyes are as black as her soul, black not with corruption but with the dirt of ages, the dust--the holy dust--that builds up everytime her soul springs from the dust. She knows, and yet she eats fried chicken, and laughs, and grins--but under all, beneath her facade, she knows that the dust that sits beneath her feet, dancing on sunbeams, is waiting for her soul--waiting for people to dress in black, be somber for two hours, then go on with everything (if she's lucky and people know who she is when she dies. They'll forget soon enough). But she doesn't care, she just wants the birds to sing her eulogy so she can become dust once again, and rise once more, and over and over again until she is only dust--one with the holy, divine, dust.
Now these I wrote more recently...about...hmm...ten years ago. A friend of mine had a bit of a band, and was looking for Goth lyrics, so I tried my hand at it. Yep, angsty Goth vampire poetry! w00t!
Kiss Me Darkly
I entered the club
the music was driving me
left my jacket at the door
moved trance-like to the floor
He was waiting with
his hands pale and wild
"You're back," he said; "I knew
I was right, your heart was true."
Chorus:
If there's a life I must give it to him
I want to be the savage beast
If there's a pulse I must destroy it
On life's rich blood I'll feast
We left the club and walked the streets
Seven suns in my face
The night grew strong beside me
We kissed--we kissed darkly
On the altar my blood ran out
seven stars in his eyes
I felt fire fill my veins
no more of life's silly pains
Repeat Chorus
The night is my father, my lover
The prey run wild when I hunt
And he always waits in the gloom for me
There we kiss forever darkly.
The Ways
The first rule: never love a human.
It seemed like an easy rule, a trivial rule.
Now that I have broken it I understand
How could I have stopped
How could I have stopped
this ridiculous feeling?
Then I remember his face, like an angel's
His hair, the color of a sun I will never see again
His arms so warm, I can pretend I'm alive again.
Repeat Chorus
The rule is set
the Ways are strong
to go against
is to feel their wrath.
Every day I dream of how his blood will taste.
Once I was like him,
blind,
my feet shod with lead.
I'll teach him to fly,
the thrill of the hunt.
He will worship the night, and me, his deliverer.
Repeat Chorus
On a blazing night
When the blood held me tight in its heat
I took his neck into my mouth.
I wanted it to last forever, his embrace, his fire, his dawning eyes.
I would awaken him to our world. The setting moon would light our path.
Repeat Chorus
Now he is as cold as the rest of us,
pale like a grave marker, his eyes faded to grey.
Bolder and bolder he is.
I am full of dark trapped thoughts.
Each night drains me. I search the streets,
despair wring sme.
Repeat Chorus
Emptiness hollows me out. They've found him, left him for the sun to melt. Once he seemed distilled
from its rays; now he is destroyed by them.
I am next.
I can feel their wrath rising.
I broke their rules, and now I understand.
Two lines that made me think:
My baby wishes have been burnt at the stake. This doesn't mean "wishes to have a baby". It means my silly childhood dreams felt like they were gone.
Bring me your heart-shaped jumper cables. The more I read this line, the more it amuses and fascinates me. What the hell was I thinking? I wrote soooo much bad poetry...
Then I found a couple of interesting things. I'll put these one under a cut because it's long.
Part One is pretty boring/angsty and has little to recommend it, so I won't bother typing that in, but Part Two was a pretty interesting find. I have no idea when I wrote the Parts. I must have been in my early twenties is all I can figure out, if I analyze the level of Angst to Thought. It's a bit teenagery and a bit angsty...click only if you're interested.
Stream of Consciousness Part Two
Dust, dust. Patterns in the dust, disrupted so easily, ever-changing; nothing happens new, all has been done and said before, we break no new ground. But spin your spiderwebs of illusion, build your crystal castle, my dear; it's all right to dream. Just don't dream too high, because you'll fall in the end, and life will be grey dust again. She shivers and lights another candle, praying once more to the Earth, her mother, to give her peace of mind. There is no response, of course, but dimly, in the back of her thoughts, she can feel the dirt, the warm suffocating black earth that lies under her fingernails, in her hair, strewn in her backyard, trapped beneath pavement. It is real, it is dirt; she understands it, knows its purpose. She can stand on it. Her eyes are as black as her soul, black not with corruption but with the dirt of ages, the dust--the holy dust--that builds up everytime her soul springs from the dust. She knows, and yet she eats fried chicken, and laughs, and grins--but under all, beneath her facade, she knows that the dust that sits beneath her feet, dancing on sunbeams, is waiting for her soul--waiting for people to dress in black, be somber for two hours, then go on with everything (if she's lucky and people know who she is when she dies. They'll forget soon enough). But she doesn't care, she just wants the birds to sing her eulogy so she can become dust once again, and rise once more, and over and over again until she is only dust--one with the holy, divine, dust.
Now these I wrote more recently...about...hmm...ten years ago. A friend of mine had a bit of a band, and was looking for Goth lyrics, so I tried my hand at it. Yep, angsty Goth vampire poetry! w00t!
Kiss Me Darkly
I entered the club
the music was driving me
left my jacket at the door
moved trance-like to the floor
He was waiting with
his hands pale and wild
"You're back," he said; "I knew
I was right, your heart was true."
Chorus:
If there's a life I must give it to him
I want to be the savage beast
If there's a pulse I must destroy it
On life's rich blood I'll feast
We left the club and walked the streets
Seven suns in my face
The night grew strong beside me
We kissed--we kissed darkly
On the altar my blood ran out
seven stars in his eyes
I felt fire fill my veins
no more of life's silly pains
Repeat Chorus
The night is my father, my lover
The prey run wild when I hunt
And he always waits in the gloom for me
There we kiss forever darkly.
The Ways
The first rule: never love a human.
It seemed like an easy rule, a trivial rule.
Now that I have broken it I understand
How could I have stopped
How could I have stopped
this ridiculous feeling?
Then I remember his face, like an angel's
His hair, the color of a sun I will never see again
His arms so warm, I can pretend I'm alive again.
Repeat Chorus
The rule is set
the Ways are strong
to go against
is to feel their wrath.
Every day I dream of how his blood will taste.
Once I was like him,
blind,
my feet shod with lead.
I'll teach him to fly,
the thrill of the hunt.
He will worship the night, and me, his deliverer.
Repeat Chorus
On a blazing night
When the blood held me tight in its heat
I took his neck into my mouth.
I wanted it to last forever, his embrace, his fire, his dawning eyes.
I would awaken him to our world. The setting moon would light our path.
Repeat Chorus
Now he is as cold as the rest of us,
pale like a grave marker, his eyes faded to grey.
Bolder and bolder he is.
I am full of dark trapped thoughts.
Each night drains me. I search the streets,
despair wring sme.
Repeat Chorus
Emptiness hollows me out. They've found him, left him for the sun to melt. Once he seemed distilled
from its rays; now he is destroyed by them.
I am next.
I can feel their wrath rising.
I broke their rules, and now I understand.