Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The fun of resurrection

Higher Ground is a story I wrote in 2002. Some people liked it, I finished it, re-read it and pretty much didn't care for it. (Major plot holes, last minute 'wait, there is no villain! Shove one in!' stuff, the usual fun of doing a draft of a novel without, say, plotting more than a couple of chapters ahead.) However, as much as I disliked the end result, I did have a soft spot for the core concept of it:

Why do characters who end up in Fantasy World stay?

Not everyone would want to, or should, but I thought it would be focus on a character whose only goal is to get back home because of mundane issues like the new car getting towed, work, rent and so forth. As such I am entirely re-doing the novel from scratch and altering a lot of character roles. Or shall, in time; I'm doing up notes at present so things are more solidified in my head when I start out.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Life In The Big City

I’m a long, long way from home
And anyone that I know;
Said nothing held me there
Oh, if only that was so.

I know I said I’d never leave
But it was just too hard to believe
I know you’ll think that I lied
But my love I swear I tried.

I’ve been walking down lonely roads
Just going with the flow
I sometimes wish you were here with me
But it was too long ago.

I wouldn’t know you if we met anymore
I burned my bridges and I closed my doors
This is truly what I do believe
Though sometimes I still grieve.

Having sex with strangers
That I will never know
They keep saying “Do you love me?”
And I keep wanting to say no.

I know I said I’d never leave
But it was just too hard to believe
I know you’ll think that I lied
But my love I swear I tried.

Some days I think of you still
And wonder how I fell so low
Sometimes I wish I could see you
But there’s nothing I’d want to show.

I wouldn’t know you if we met anymore
I burned my bridges and I closed my doors
This is truly what I do believe
Though sometimes I still grieve.

I sometimes think we’ll meet again
And our eyes shall catch and glow
Or we might pass by as strangers do
And maybe just say hello.

I know I said I’d never leave
But it was just too hard to believe
I know you’ll think that I lied
But I swear I tried, I swear I tried.

Maybe we could just say hello.
Maybe we could say hello.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Sometimes I dream the world is good

Sometimes I dream the world is good
And I know I know that you do too
A place where everything turns out okay
And love can always be true

And it’s a world I’ve never lived in
And I know I know it’s one I want to see
And I don’t know what I’d give up
For such a world to be

And I’m thinking too maybe you don’t know
And I wonder I wonder if anyone does
Or if we just keep on going around
But I sure hope not because

I have seen this world that never was
I wonder I wonder and hope you have too
And I hope you’ll come along with me
And somehow make it true

A world’s out there waiting to begin
And I wonder I do what it will be
I know you must too I see it in your eyes
‘Cuz together maybe we can
And together maybe we will

Thursday, May 05, 2011

The Daffodils, or, It's raning and my allergies are acting up.

By: William Wordsworth, after finding his wife in bed wth STC and learning his poems about childhood stemmed from abuse at the hands of his mother.


I meandered pretty as a cloud
Singing while high o'er home and hills,
Drugs ran out and I heard the sound
A host of falling coloured pills
Beside the lake, I let out a sneeze
And they danced away on the breeze

No longer happy and not fine
Thinking of semen as the milky way
I saw my home and a light shone
I saw where Sam had been today
Ten thousand sins seen at a glance
Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance.

I screamed in fucking agony; they
Just pointed and waved with glee
A poet could not but be gay,
I loved my wife's company
I gazed -- all glazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
Remembering mother strange moods
That make black unpon the inward eye
And make me want to say things rude
I remember the axe, and pleasure fills
My heart, dancing with blue pills.

Monday, May 02, 2011

Spare Change

Spare some change?
begs a hand thrust
out of tattered rags.

Most of us
have no change to spare;

Most of us
never change at all.