Click.
Then the buzzing of what seems like a screen
Rehearsed, memorized
Line after line
Motion and sound
Cue the lights
The music
The commercial break
Five minutes to take your money
And save your soul
Everything has to be perfect
Cue from the man in a robe
The audience claps
Laughs
Children sing
The man in the robe speaks
As though he has something important to say
A live play
For the live audience
Why ten percent of your income doesn't belong to you
Or why helping other people is the only way to true happiness
They sit and listen
Maybe they fall asleep
The children leave for the early afternoon special
They all fi
Stan sat in the center of a room, which was white,
padded, and cold. He muttered to himself, "damn it."
Since everyone thinks they're right, Stan has to be crazy.
He thinks they're wrong. Beneath the ball-topped hat
and black hair, everyone thought every word Stan spoke was lies.
But Wendy knew every word was really truth.
There was no one for Stan to talk to in that room. In truth,
though, he was perfectly content in the room, completely white
with no one to contradict his thoughts and tell their lies.
The people of South Park had put him in this room to "Damn It!"
Each time he thought about it his voice rose higher until
Cigarette smoke trails away like icicles
suspended from the invisible conveyor of this winter night's air.
For a moment the earth sits in still silence
until the wind breaks over naked tree brances
and brick buildings. The snow dances in the glow
of light posts and moonlight, tiny tornadoes
glide in front of me, their shadow is the negative image of a black hole.
Footprints that were fresh minutes ago
are already filling in with the powder of December
as wind licks them over. Where did everyone go?
Houses and apartments and alcoves just off the sidewalks.
Where are we all going?
If only we were as ceaseless as the winter snow
Wind whispers through silence, when
the leaves are dull and green, after
the attack has come and gone like blood
escaping from a menagerie of soon-to-be
scars. Leafing through pages of black
and white like sedans and coupes and
tractor trailers on the interstate in a blizzard.
Live moves pretty fast and if you aren't living well...
we're all dying. Like lemmings, the cliff
approaching us isn't all too important.
The unknown doesn't need to be known,
though endless searches amount to heaps of failed
dreams and promises. Everything is a metaphor of
a metaphor of a metaphor of...
All we're looking for is the next. Lines,
scrawl
Am I meant to do great things?
If you have to ask that question you already know the answer.
Am I meant to do great things?
No.
Why would you tell me that?
If you have to ask that questions you already know the answer.
Am I meant to great things?
Silence.
Completely.
What just happened.
What do I know.
Who.
Am.
I.
if you have to ask that question you already know the answer.
Double strength.
One-hundred proof.
What did I just hear.
does it matter?
Midis
Headies
What did I just think?
does it matter
Whats the foc
Click.
Then the buzzing of what seems like a screen
Rehearsed, memorized
Line after line
Motion and sound
Cue the lights
The music
The commercial break
Five minutes to take your money
And save your soul
Everything has to be perfect
Cue from the man in a robe
The audience claps
Laughs
Children sing
The man in the robe speaks
As though he has something important to say
A live play
For the live audience
Why ten percent of your income doesn't belong to you
Or why helping other people is the only way to true happiness
They sit and listen
Maybe they fall asleep
The children leave for the early afternoon special
They all fi
Stan sat in the center of a room, which was white,
padded, and cold. He muttered to himself, "damn it."
Since everyone thinks they're right, Stan has to be crazy.
He thinks they're wrong. Beneath the ball-topped hat
and black hair, everyone thought every word Stan spoke was lies.
But Wendy knew every word was really truth.
There was no one for Stan to talk to in that room. In truth,
though, he was perfectly content in the room, completely white
with no one to contradict his thoughts and tell their lies.
The people of South Park had put him in this room to "Damn It!"
Each time he thought about it his voice rose higher until
Cigarette smoke trails away like icicles
suspended from the invisible conveyor of this winter night's air.
For a moment the earth sits in still silence
until the wind breaks over naked tree brances
and brick buildings. The snow dances in the glow
of light posts and moonlight, tiny tornadoes
glide in front of me, their shadow is the negative image of a black hole.
Footprints that were fresh minutes ago
are already filling in with the powder of December
as wind licks them over. Where did everyone go?
Houses and apartments and alcoves just off the sidewalks.
Where are we all going?
If only we were as ceaseless as the winter snow
Wind whispers through silence, when
the leaves are dull and green, after
the attack has come and gone like blood
escaping from a menagerie of soon-to-be
scars. Leafing through pages of black
and white like sedans and coupes and
tractor trailers on the interstate in a blizzard.
Live moves pretty fast and if you aren't living well...
we're all dying. Like lemmings, the cliff
approaching us isn't all too important.
The unknown doesn't need to be known,
though endless searches amount to heaps of failed
dreams and promises. Everything is a metaphor of
a metaphor of a metaphor of...
All we're looking for is the next. Lines,
scrawl
Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams Shell of choice: Turtle Personal Quote: "I have spread my dreams under your feet, tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
Favourite Visual Artist
Dali.
Favourite Movies
Fight Club
Favourite Writers
Yeats.
Tools of the Trade
a camera and a pen, depends on what kind of mood...
this is what college does to you
Reject this life and everything i ever thought it was about. We'll never know what it's about. Wasting your time trying to figure out what it's about is a fool's game. In this world the paupers and pipers never get lucky, never get paid. There is no luck. Only life. Living, breathing life. Your Life. The only thing you can control in the world is your life and how it's used. Reject freedoms and restrictions. There's nothing that anybody can tell you that you can't do. You choose.
There is nothing you have to do.
There is nothing you need to find.
There is nothing you need,
There is nothing but you.
in my art class we were talking about how some music derived from people being in slavery and singing to pass the time or take their minds off their state of life at that present time.
what if we're all slaves to something...and music is the way to take our minds off of the slavery.
think about it.
Oh you know, college. Finishing up the month that I had off and going back to my second half of senior year. I don't come on here much anymore. If you want to email me ever, feel free to. My email is nhwild@bloomu.edu. How's life and all? What's new?