And left
With naught but
Self indulgence,
The rhyme of
Reasons trance
Ringing throughout
The petty pesticides
Instilled by
Pseudoscience
I cannot speak
Of the contradiction
Awaiting me
Upon acceptance
Of perfection in
Normality.
The key of C
Served well
In attaining
Half-fulfillment.
It is gone, save
For itself (in
Profession).
Sufferance
Is identical
To longing,
And it
Has passed
To something
Less (in one
Manner).
Thanks is
Unnecessary,
But it
Shall be
Dealt in
Time.
Attempt.Chapter Three by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
Attempt.Chapter Three
After changing into a generic dark-grey t-shirt, very tight, and counting the money in my pocket, I leave the apartment in the general direction of the co-op.
The sun is still teasing me with its rays. It has slowly but steadily made a transition from white to yellow-orange throughout the course of my twenty-minute walk. The sanctuary of the air-conditioned yet inexplicably musty vestibule of my destination is welcoming.
Every item in this place is divided between the colors of brown, yellow, beige, brown, off-white, brown, and everything in between. The momentary shock of both this fact and the idea that I had forgotten the d
Somebody is screaming. Its calm, but screaming.
I didnt kill her. I didnt kill them. I have done nothing wrong.
Whats happening? I dont know. I cant see. Im comfortable. Im warm.
This is the fourth time the news has blared on my radio this morning. Im not sure why, but my alarm clock is out of working order. I would have more room to complain if I didnt need to be up right now.
I pull myself out of my sheets, which are grainy from blackheads that have dried and fallen out in my sleep, to put my feet on the ground. Its further away than Id lik
Life is the filler between your parents coitus and your eulogy.
Thats what Chad tells me, anyway. He says a lot of things.
Apparently, working in a bookstore will do this to you.
Having a roommate who works at a bookstore is a bibliophiles dream, so I regret not loving books. Chad adores them, though. He has a case full of them, and each novel or series has its corresponding film adaptation next to it. I dont know how he catalogues them, but it seems to work.
Im familiar with a few of them. The one about the man with the dissociative order, the one by the same author about the man who crashes a plane,
Tu t'appelle comment?
Oui.
Thank you.
To the marquees?
Please be seated.
Rise.
In, out, push
Your bellows, child.
Locks and barrels
Out of stock.
Pity.
Cliché stanza
Much ado about
Iron hearts,
Dangled carrots hanging
And hanging
And hanging
'Till, of course
The reader turns the
Page in disgust
Of the author,
Again betrothed to
Piteous spellings
Of words.
Words make
Advantage.
One and One.
To One.
Say One does
Not matter.
Suddenly, One
To One.
And One
Is disregarded.
And so One
Goes to the
Other.
And techicolor
Provides an ending
Suitable for
All ages,
Races, creeds,
And mental
Illnesses.
ART WAR Take Shots, No... by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
ART WAR Take Shots, No...
(G7, C#Ma, Em, D variations, D7 variations)
You think Im down again,
Youre probably right.
I know you want to help,
But my bottle of Stroh
Does it better.
So leave me passed out again,
On the front room couch.
Theres a lot I could be doing,
But Im feeling a bit
Under the weather.
The rain of picnic kisses
Falls on me in my dreams,
But with some other girl.
I guess memories can try
To be what you need.
(C, Am, C, Am, Em, D varations, D7 variations)
I keep warm under covers
The pills keep me sane
I dont love you anymore.
But thats just what I say.
(Back to first chord arrangement)
I need
Well I met her
Down at the park
Where I played as a child
Saw her there
Every day
With her warm, red smile
Thought to myself
This could be the big one
Think she gave me a look
So I gotta take my heart off
My sleeve
Gotta get her hooked.
No use playing sensitive
The all see through that charade.
Yeah, you gotta be down
In the real word,
You gotta have it made.
You gotta be the big one
You gotta have your muscular heart
Cause Ive found out the hard way
That heartbreak is the womans finest art.
-CHORUS-
And that look that shell give you
Its the finest one youll ever see.
And that smile
Continuing.
Always continuing.
Please, Love, shower
Me.
Lead me with promises
of night's soon to come.
Make me think that
It is all in the past
And yell
Again
And again.
Zeros and ones
Should be for
Moans, Love.
She means nothing.
Still, you hold strong,
But it is all temporary.
Our love is true.
You would never,
Ever
Betray it.
You would never,
Ever
Betray me.
You would never,
Ever
Leave me to die
In a bedroom,
Knife in hand,
My inspiration in yours,
With only a promise
Not to pierce
The heart you broke
As you run
To our rocks
To meet your new
Idea of happiness.
You would never,
Ever
Want me to do this.
Scar Sunshine Rainbows by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
Scar Sunshine Rainbows
Oh, my!
Did I not notice?
How could I have been so,
So So
So So So
o So So
So So
So So
SoSo
So blinded by the past?
Perhaps this fact may
Take gratefulness
of existance
in the most unholy
of lives:
A past stalking one
For days, weeks,
More generic spans
Of time--
Leading into oblivion
Whilst it is named
Mr. and Mrs. Present (ASK?HS,
Or to the best of my
Knowledge)
Though still, it (they, he,
She, it, kitty cats,
Puppy dogs, scars
On thighs, sunshine
Made rainbows)
Still binds to the
Most painful
of equations (some
Poor fucking sap =
[13 - (1 day sh
Morning sets a stage
In darkness—
A perfect 'L'
Covering a million faces
Blinded by a
Covenant bound
In sacred blunder.
A path mark'd
By yellow in
Parallel perfection
Is presumed clear
(Of any deeming themselves
Sane).
Thankfully,
Presumptions fail in
Probability's malevolent
Reign,
For dirtied trousers
And a scarlet-stained jerkin
Engulf a young lad
At Good Tom's feet.
Judgment must wait,
For Good Tom
Is a man
Of God.
A bloodied pipe
In hand
With a grin
Upon a shadowed face
Shalln't put blame
Upon a Shepard of
God.
Proof must accompany
Judgment,
It seems.
('Til the Shepard
deems fit)
Reanimation Part I -- Death by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
Reanimation Part I -- Death
Lying in this ghastly pit,
One inch deep, but torture-fit.
Crying here day after day,
All the dirt, it wears away.
I feel the tears run down my cheeks,
Nothing left except their salty streaks.
Wounds I lick, beneath my soul,
In this shallow, trodden bowl.
Is there hope? Can I move on?
Would the world be better if I were gone?
Is it worth it? Is there use?
Or should I give in to this noose?
I shake, I quiver, push and yell,
Truly, this is none but Hell....
There've been too many half-lives of my soul,
Now it's writhing, yearning, giving toll.
But something shines that still might pay,
In my heart, so far away.
It's small, g
Reanimation Part II -- Life by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
Reanimation Part II -- Life
Now as I sit here, on my bed,
I'm going back over the words we've said.
How perfect, kind, pretty, and keen
You are, and to me you're never mean.
The worst is gone, though thoughts remain
Of years gone by, and all the pain.
All the things I said and did
Wore heavy and such a sad, small kid.
I think about it every day,
How I sold it, threw it all away.
Though sometimes pondering, I even cry....
Thank you for helping, by and by.
You dry my eyes, you whisper words,
Suddenly, I think of birds....
Two together, no cares in the world,
Like me, a boy a who loves a girl.
I think of who I used to be....
That couldn't have been... was
Don't stand there
Pretending that you have the
Right to assume what I feel.
This is all
My choice -- my real, pumping heart
With its needs,
But you don't care.
I am not
"Longing to feel what you can",
I am doing it all on my own.
This is all
My life -- my real, thriving love,
With its joy,
But you don't care.
It is so
Unreal to you. Where are those
Words you said before all this?
Well, here is
One word I place on you:
"Hypocrite", you two-faced pig.
Don't stand there,
Begging me to hep you with
What you're telling me you feel.
Now, this is
Your loss -- some real, searing pain,
With its writhing,
And I don't care.
Let them come.
Let their bodies push forth in one single mass.
Let them devour our land.
Let them shatter the windows of our souls until we cannot watch them raping our women and burning our homes.
Let them kill.
Let them steal.
Let them maim.
Let the children scream.
Let the stone fragments of your home fall upon the dead figures that were once the ones you love.
Let them take the revenge that belongs to their fathers.
Let it not be known that they are not their fathers, but themselves.
Let the bowman have his way.
Let his arrow pierce your neck.
Let his feet trod upon your face.
Let the stones of their slings be embedded
Say goodbye,
Pretend that nothing's left.
Fall Back.
We all need support,
But I'm the obselete.
Time--
God heals the earth in 7 days.
Here it goes.
Pretend that nothing's left.
Study, study.
Your chance will come.
Just let it heal,
No faking now.
Catch it off guard (study, study)
With Karma's seven horsemen.
Punish the sin,
Reclaim the sinner.
Books, books, books,
So many things lie in the library.
Let's go smooth,
Our jagged stones were desecrated.
Make some mystery.
Take it away, take a walk, take anything.
Wait... wait.
Time will come, let some pass.
It was over
Now let's end it some more.
Uncleanliness...
Guess
here I lie--
percieved promise backwashed by a waning drive.
Yet, somehow, dogs continue
to give Cats a good cardiovascular excersize session.
The Microfish bowl keeps magnifying life
that is unaware of itself.
All sorts of wonders ponder themselves to death
where they cannot be longed for so tediously.
To say I am ungrateful for all of this
would be a terrible lie
full of deciet, broken promises,
broken homes, all sorts of things.
So I shall suffice to reflect upon beauty
as the scarlet pool of life flows from me
and into the small square to which I have befitted
so well for so long in dreams.
Some may quote me as being the '
Morning sets a stage
In darkness—
A perfect 'L'
Covering a million faces
Blinded by a
Covenant bound
In sacred blunder.
A path mark'd
By yellow in
Parallel perfection
Is presumed clear
(Of any deeming themselves
Sane).
Thankfully,
Presumptions fail in
Probability's malevolent
Reign,
For dirtied trousers
And a scarlet-stained jerkin
Engulf a young lad
At Good Tom's feet.
Judgment must wait,
For Good Tom
Is a man
Of God.
A bloodied pipe
In hand
With a grin
Upon a shadowed face
Shalln't put blame
Upon a Shepard of
God.
Proof must accompany
Judgment,
It seems.
('Til the Shepard
deems fit)
Scar Sunshine Rainbows by Lost-Guardian, literature
Literature
Scar Sunshine Rainbows
Oh, my!
Did I not notice?
How could I have been so,
So So
So So So
o So So
So So
So So
SoSo
So blinded by the past?
Perhaps this fact may
Take gratefulness
of existance
in the most unholy
of lives:
A past stalking one
For days, weeks,
More generic spans
Of time--
Leading into oblivion
Whilst it is named
Mr. and Mrs. Present (ASK?HS,
Or to the best of my
Knowledge)
Though still, it (they, he,
She, it, kitty cats,
Puppy dogs, scars
On thighs, sunshine
Made rainbows)
Still binds to the
Most painful
of equations (some
Poor fucking sap =
[13 - (1 day sh
Continuing.
Always continuing.
Please, Love, shower
Me.
Lead me with promises
of night's soon to come.
Make me think that
It is all in the past
And yell
Again
And again.
Zeros and ones
Should be for
Moans, Love.
She means nothing.
Still, you hold strong,
But it is all temporary.
Our love is true.
You would never,
Ever
Betray it.
You would never,
Ever
Betray me.
You would never,
Ever
Leave me to die
In a bedroom,
Knife in hand,
My inspiration in yours,
With only a promise
Not to pierce
The heart you broke
As you run
To our rocks
To meet your new
Idea of happiness.
You would never,
Ever
Want me to do this.
Well I met her
Down at the park
Where I played as a child
Saw her there
Every day
With her warm, red smile
Thought to myself
This could be the big one
Think she gave me a look
So I gotta take my heart off
My sleeve
Gotta get her hooked.
No use playing sensitive
The all see through that charade.
Yeah, you gotta be down
In the real word,
You gotta have it made.
You gotta be the big one
You gotta have your muscular heart
Cause Ive found out the hard way
That heartbreak is the womans finest art.
-CHORUS-
And that look that shell give you
Its the finest one youll ever see.
And that smile
here I lie--
percieved promise backwashed by a waning drive.
Yet, somehow, dogs continue
to give Cats a good cardiovascular excersize session.
The Microfish bowl keeps magnifying life
that is unaware of itself.
All sorts of wonders ponder themselves to death
where they cannot be longed for so tediously.
To say I am ungrateful for all of this
would be a terrible lie
full of deciet, broken promises,
broken homes, all sorts of things.
So I shall suffice to reflect upon beauty
as the scarlet pool of life flows from me
and into the small square to which I have befitted
so well for so long in dreams.
Some may quote me as being the '
Current Residence: That place between head and heart Favourite genre of music: Indie, Freestyle, Progressive, Industrial MP3 player of choice: Someday it'll be in our heads.... Favourite cartoon character: Hobbes
Favourite Movies
Princess Mononoke, Labyrinth, V for Vendetta, Thumbsucker
I have not, in fact, forgotten about my aspirations of more Good Tom. Sorry it's taking so long.
Second show went well, and I did remember to dedicate a song to a certain Canadian who I attribute the success of my first show to.
Be well
LG
Points of business:
a) Chuck Palahniuk is incredible. His literary, narrative, and intellectually nihilistic genious are simply to absolutely mind-boggling to describe. You should probably go read one of his books. These include (but are not limited to) Invisible Monsters, Fight Club, or perhaps my favorite, Survivor
b) I am in two plays at present and have pseudo-principal roles in both. This is wonderful for two reasons: 1-A decent amount of stage time. 2-Not that many lines to memorize.
c) My first two shows have gone incredibly well, and my next is in roughly ten days. I hope to see you there. Well, most of you. If a certai