"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best freind.
Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."
-Groucho Marx
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Well, here it is. I've now been running this blog for one month. I'll just use this as a chance to advertise to those of you readers who live close enough to attend it...
Godspell
Saturday, May 16, 7:30 PM
St. Clare's of Assisi Ann Arbor, (on packard road, shares space with Temple Beth Emeth)
It will be awesome!
Godspell
Saturday, May 16, 7:30 PM
St. Clare's of Assisi Ann Arbor, (on packard road, shares space with Temple Beth Emeth)
It will be awesome!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Peace!
........(....\....../....)
.........\....\..../..../
. ........\....\. /..../
...........\....\/..../
...../..\/´¯.I.¯`\./
..../I.. I....I..(¯¯¯`\
...I..I..I....I...¯¯.\...\
...I.´¯I´¯.I......\...)
...\` ¯...` ¯...........'
....\_________.·´\
Ooh, this didn't work out too great with the blog. Oh well...
.........\....\..../..../
. ........\....\. /..../
...........\....\/..../
...../..\/´¯.I.¯`\./
..../I.. I....I..(¯¯¯`\
...I..I..I....I...¯¯.\...\
...I.´¯I´¯.I......\...)
...\` ¯...` ¯...........'
....\_________.·´\
Ooh, this didn't work out too great with the blog. Oh well...
Monday, April 27, 2009
socratian famine...?
Socrates.
Ha.
Ha ha.
HAHAHAH!
Someone just called me Socrates.
hah.
Hah.
HahHahHa.
Oh, and BTW, I do not suggest thirty hour famine.
Ha.
Ha ha.
HAHAHAH!
Someone just called me Socrates.
hah.
Hah.
HahHahHa.
Oh, and BTW, I do not suggest thirty hour famine.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Building Babel
Wow, I'm finaly posting this. This kicked off the whole darn thing.
Towers rise above.
Towers of learning.
Reach the heights of your gods.
Speak the language, teach the turning.
Babel built, complete.
Never loose your speech.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Power always speaks to me.
Cruel beings yet above.
They call themselves God,
But man has reached their level.
They fall, fall for the falsehood that they made.
Returning to the clay.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Power always speaks to me.
Babel rises, high above the clouds.
No gods will stop us,
All, our minds allow.
But Babel falls.
The hand of man levels his work.
Fear not your gods, but yourselves.
But still we build, raising towers high above.
Learning what once we lost.
Reaching heights with the help of the gods we found.
In clay upon the ground.
Reclaiming our language, reacting the turning,
Ending the fire, ending the burning.
Babel returns again.
One day it won't end.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Learning always speaks to me.
Towers rise above.
Towers of learning.
Reach the heights of your gods.
Speak the language, teach the turning.
Babel built, complete.
Never loose your speech.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Power always speaks to me.
Cruel beings yet above.
They call themselves God,
But man has reached their level.
They fall, fall for the falsehood that they made.
Returning to the clay.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Power always speaks to me.
Babel rises, high above the clouds.
No gods will stop us,
All, our minds allow.
But Babel falls.
The hand of man levels his work.
Fear not your gods, but yourselves.
But still we build, raising towers high above.
Learning what once we lost.
Reaching heights with the help of the gods we found.
In clay upon the ground.
Reclaiming our language, reacting the turning,
Ending the fire, ending the burning.
Babel returns again.
One day it won't end.
I build a tower yet to be.
Raise the cry of a century.
Build and write your destiny!
Learning always speaks to me.
Reign of anger
Anger divides, anger descends,
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
Anger is humanity
Anger fury burning bright.
Anger raised by day, and calmed by endless night.
Anger divides, anger descends,
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
Fury and wrath, clouds on my path.
Walking through a desert where the daylight never ends.
Anger burns, anger, my friend.
Coating blood across my hands.
Anger divides, anger descends,
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
A mushroom cloud that rises above the earth,
Anger's cruel attempt at mirth.
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
Anger is humanity
Anger fury burning bright.
Anger raised by day, and calmed by endless night.
Anger divides, anger descends,
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
Fury and wrath, clouds on my path.
Walking through a desert where the daylight never ends.
Anger burns, anger, my friend.
Coating blood across my hands.
Anger divides, anger descends,
Anger arrives among my friends.
Burning, rising, burning on.
Anger never ends.
A mushroom cloud that rises above the earth,
Anger's cruel attempt at mirth.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Late post
Oops, I completely forgot to post yesterday.
Sorry, guys.
Here, a couple of poems, one older, one I'm writing as we speak.
I've been hiding in my dreams for about a year now,
The dreams, unaided, rise inside of me.
If night the truth and lies alike allow,
I'll turn, and finally I'll see.
Is truth so hard to find?
The lies are all I see?
Torch inside the darkness,
Allow me to believe.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Farther from the nightmares.
Face me.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
One day I took a match,
Lit it to the book that holds my sanity.
But now I see,
Books don't burn so easily.
Rewrite, not burn, reality.
Rising for the man I want to be.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Farther from the nightmares.
Face me.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
I'm carving into the block that holds the lies.
But the knife is wood and the block is steel.
Cut the block with hands of anger.
Finding what is real.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Protect you from the nightmares.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
Truth.
A harsh reality.
Maybe I don't want to see.
Dark, the face of cruelty.
Cruelty unwitting, undoing, pushing me down, down into the darkness.
Falling into the dark pits of anger and fury.
It's
Not
Them
It's
Me.
But sometimes that's hard to see.
Hard to put aside, harder to observe.
And still I watch and burn.
Burning with my own faults,
not theirs.
So maybe my faults are pushed
by their actions.
But I won't dictate myself to fix others,
why should they?
It's
Not
Them
It's
Me.
Almost impossible to see.
So
Anger
Rises
Inside.
Push
it
down
and
leave
it.
Pour
It
Onto
a
page.
Why is love a weapon?
Sorry, guys.
Here, a couple of poems, one older, one I'm writing as we speak.
I've been hiding in my dreams for about a year now,
The dreams, unaided, rise inside of me.
If night the truth and lies alike allow,
I'll turn, and finally I'll see.
Is truth so hard to find?
The lies are all I see?
Torch inside the darkness,
Allow me to believe.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Farther from the nightmares.
Face me.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
One day I took a match,
Lit it to the book that holds my sanity.
But now I see,
Books don't burn so easily.
Rewrite, not burn, reality.
Rising for the man I want to be.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Farther from the nightmares.
Face me.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
I'm carving into the block that holds the lies.
But the knife is wood and the block is steel.
Cut the block with hands of anger.
Finding what is real.
Face me.
Closer to the truth.
Face me.
Protect you from the nightmares.
For in your face remains my last hook on reality.
Truth.
A harsh reality.
Maybe I don't want to see.
Dark, the face of cruelty.
Cruelty unwitting, undoing, pushing me down, down into the darkness.
Falling into the dark pits of anger and fury.
It's
Not
Them
It's
Me.
But sometimes that's hard to see.
Hard to put aside, harder to observe.
And still I watch and burn.
Burning with my own faults,
not theirs.
So maybe my faults are pushed
by their actions.
But I won't dictate myself to fix others,
why should they?
It's
Not
Them
It's
Me.
Almost impossible to see.
So
Anger
Rises
Inside.
Push
it
down
and
leave
it.
Pour
It
Onto
a
page.
Why is love a weapon?
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