Dark Matter

i.

Dark matter is the iceberg
Of lives barely visible, surface tensions
rippling through magic volume unseen,
unknowable, but still real.

ii.

The urban myth is that
90% of the brain goes unused.
Yet 90% of the matter
In the universe is unseen.
You think this is coincidental?
You think it doesn't matter?
Think again. Everything matters.

Creating A Hero

Packaging new wine in old bottles,
The still gurgling its quiet songs --
We wait for an explosion, hoping
(hopefully, O, not in vain)
That this time it will explode, that
This time there will be power, that
This time we will become superhuman.
If it works for rocks from space,
Dad said, it should work for other things
(like radiation, even if all Uncle Jeffery got
was dying in a hospital bed)
And so we're hoping that one of us
Becomes Super Stillman, so we can make
Drinks galore and become filthy rich.
I just hope that, if I am Super Stillman,
I can still get drunk on what I make.

YA Trilogy

.. has a title. Finally. As I sat down to write the first chapter, and even had the chapter named, I realized I needed - well, a working title at least.

Dogs of War, consisting of three volumes:
Book 1: Contact
Book 2: Conversion
Book 3: War

Nice and simple. Now, to begin...

At The Outdoor Orchestra

The symphony is notes mixed
With the pedestrian, cold wind,
Crying children, bored adults --
Classics unable to overcome ennui.
Sound failing into grey noise
As people turn, talk to one another,
Unable to see the symphony
(Only to hear) and untouched, unmoved.
The supremacy of sight complete.

I cried myself to sleep last night

I cried myself to sleep last night
Trying to remember why.

I thought tears would bring you back
After the well of hate ran dry.

I cried myself to sleep last night
By the altar of Your fame.

I thought faith could move mountains
And tears give You some shame.

I cried myself to sleep last night
And you were outside the door.

I thought you'd come in, ask me why,
But we never talk anymore.

I cried myself to sleep last night
Without hope of reply.

I cried myself to sleep last night
And never wondered why.

Bystander #1

PAGE 21, PANEL 5

There's this thing you don't understand.
Too busy oppressing, being The Man
All that holds it together is the status quo
Pretending our laws aren't just for show.
But if all the super villains vanished one day
And the super heroes too -- well, I say:
Don't you agree, hero, or think it true
That we'd be better off without all of you?

Random Musing Late At Night

Sometimes there aren't differences.
Sometimes laughter is like crying:
No noise, shoulders shaking,
Only signal -- and what it means we
May never know. Everything depends
On that, on what others see,
On what they believe, on interpretation.
Even things that go beyond words
Doesn't go near deep enough.

Bush admits secret CIA terror detentions

Bush insisted that the detainees were not tortured.
"I want to be absolutely clear with our people, and the world: The United States does not torture," Bush said. "It's against our laws, and it's against our values. I have not authorized it, and I will not authorize it."

"Furthmore," the President added, "It's like trees falling in woods. I miight know a tree could fall, but if I wasn't there then it never will fall. This is like the cat in a box, y' know. Until we take the prisoner out of the cell, we don't know if they've been tortured or not."

Magic

There is no such thing as magic.
Not real magic, of words shaping worlds,
of taking on new shapes and shedding shadow.
Real magic is giving, in this world,
without expectation of return.
The magics of story and fable are only stories,
with just the spells a story can weave
but nothing real. In all our seeking,
we have yet to find, to see it
dream it be it hold it know it
- so we know it doesn't exist.

Sky Stuff

Not seeing things is easy,
one feels. It is a simple thing
to see only what others
see, to never wonder what
trees were before they
were trees, or the sky before
the colour blue came along.
Maybe it was azure
way back then.