I close my eyes for a moment, hearing
What's making you nervous.
I took a slice of moon and put it in your hair,
and from you, I've become
A cigarette to the ground.
Live my life,
I am bitter.
The eyes look up at their creator,
Don't feel a thing like peace.
And how you could almost taste it,
Like no survivor from this battlefield,
Filled with scarlet waves of fear.
Their words fly around my head,
Nameless,
and denied.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
My Good Name
If I woke up next to you,
Would you hate me for
My willingness to give it up?
Humming Hallelujah,
Walking down the halls,
I just want to be a part of you.
But I'm just a dreamer,
Writing things I'm not sure I'll ever feel.
To hell with my good name--
I want to play a dangerous game,
To come home worse for wear.
Teenage love on a gym floor,
Tonight I'll give it all to you...
If only my flawed concience would let me.
The golden rule never seemed so cruel.
I knew the low dance lights were too heavy for me.
Could one careless night
Be so wrong?
Please remember that constructive criticism is very much welcome. ;)
Would you hate me for
My willingness to give it up?
Humming Hallelujah,
Walking down the halls,
I just want to be a part of you.
But I'm just a dreamer,
Writing things I'm not sure I'll ever feel.
To hell with my good name--
I want to play a dangerous game,
To come home worse for wear.
Teenage love on a gym floor,
Tonight I'll give it all to you...
If only my flawed concience would let me.
The golden rule never seemed so cruel.
I knew the low dance lights were too heavy for me.
Could one careless night
Be so wrong?
Please remember that constructive criticism is very much welcome. ;)
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A Total Waste of Time
okay, before I type this up, I have to make a note about it: it was written when I was bitter, caffine-withdrawled, and sleep deprived. I want people to know that the girlfriend mentioned in it is not a bad person, I happen to like her very much. I don't want anyone to be offended.
That being said, please remember that I will appreciate ANY criticism and advice you could give.
Telling me I look beautiful, he made me so happy and uncharacteristically peaceful that my aura should've been a softly visible shade of glowing gold. Longing grew every time his hazel eyes knocked me breathless. His hand smoothed out the apprehension in mine; his strong arms that wrapped around me in a goodbye hug left my insides quavery and my heart throbbing with hope.
It was wrong of him to keep me waiting, hoping he'd call. He should have known better then to hold hands with her while sitting across from me at the school lunch table. He should have recognised my face going blank, and how I pretended I couldn't see it. Stopped talking to me, sat at a different table, not flirted with me when she wasn't there. He needed to tell me he didn't like me as much as her, and that's how it was going to be.
Now, two months later, I'm sitting on my bed, writing this, feeling slightly bitter that I haven't even looked at anyone else while I stupidly wished he would change his mind I could have found someone who thought I was cute and funny and worthy of a relationship without the scanty silk dress.
I grit my teeth as I think of how he hasn't called me since then, how he hasn't stopped by even once to see how I'm doing.
You know what? The next time he needs a backup date, the next time he wants to flirt behind her back, I'll be busy. He can keep his tall, blonde, beautifully striking and flighty girlfriend. Tomorrow, I'm going to wear my low-cut sundress, flirt, and be obscene. I don't need him to keep washing out my paper cuts with saltwater...
...and maybe, just maybe, it will show him exactly what he's missing.
That being said, please remember that I will appreciate ANY criticism and advice you could give.
Telling me I look beautiful, he made me so happy and uncharacteristically peaceful that my aura should've been a softly visible shade of glowing gold. Longing grew every time his hazel eyes knocked me breathless. His hand smoothed out the apprehension in mine; his strong arms that wrapped around me in a goodbye hug left my insides quavery and my heart throbbing with hope.
It was wrong of him to keep me waiting, hoping he'd call. He should have known better then to hold hands with her while sitting across from me at the school lunch table. He should have recognised my face going blank, and how I pretended I couldn't see it. Stopped talking to me, sat at a different table, not flirted with me when she wasn't there. He needed to tell me he didn't like me as much as her, and that's how it was going to be.
Now, two months later, I'm sitting on my bed, writing this, feeling slightly bitter that I haven't even looked at anyone else while I stupidly wished he would change his mind I could have found someone who thought I was cute and funny and worthy of a relationship without the scanty silk dress.
I grit my teeth as I think of how he hasn't called me since then, how he hasn't stopped by even once to see how I'm doing.
You know what? The next time he needs a backup date, the next time he wants to flirt behind her back, I'll be busy. He can keep his tall, blonde, beautifully striking and flighty girlfriend. Tomorrow, I'm going to wear my low-cut sundress, flirt, and be obscene. I don't need him to keep washing out my paper cuts with saltwater...
...and maybe, just maybe, it will show him exactly what he's missing.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Some Acrostics...
Why Not?
Lie and say that I don't need it,
Only a little incomplete without.
Velvet-lined sharp words--Who's
Everyone to say I'm not enough?
Ocean Drowning
Savior Impersonation, poisoned and
Always eager to
Leave it's bitter
Taste on your lips.
Weaving into your lungs
As you
Try to choke the murderer back up while it
Eats it's way past your crumbling,
Ripped defenses.
My Fault? Probably...
With this, I'm never sure if it's just me,
Or the whole world.
Ripping razors in my lungs restrict
The air I try to hold.
Hell is where I know I'll go,
Lest I can change my ways,
Each empty beat of worthless heart
Seems painful, shredded, awry.
Something's tearing it apart...
Lie and say that I don't need it,
Only a little incomplete without.
Velvet-lined sharp words--Who's
Everyone to say I'm not enough?
Ocean Drowning
Savior Impersonation, poisoned and
Always eager to
Leave it's bitter
Taste on your lips.
Weaving into your lungs
As you
Try to choke the murderer back up while it
Eats it's way past your crumbling,
Ripped defenses.
My Fault? Probably...
With this, I'm never sure if it's just me,
Or the whole world.
Ripping razors in my lungs restrict
The air I try to hold.
Hell is where I know I'll go,
Lest I can change my ways,
Each empty beat of worthless heart
Seems painful, shredded, awry.
Something's tearing it apart...
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Eric Clapton (An Essay)
Eric Clapton is an English blues-rock guitarist-singer-songwriter-composer. With a Silver Clef Award, six Grammies, and CBE of the Order of the British Empire, he has reached number four in the Rolling Stone magazine’s Top Hundred Best Guitarists list and number fifty-three on their “Immortals: Top Hundred Best Artists of All Time” list. Still, with all that, very few young people today listen to Eric Clapton, blues guitar-god and music genius. So who is the man behind the music, and what has happened in his life to make his art so influential?
Eric Patrick Clapton was born on March 30, 1945, to Patricia Molly Clapton, a seventeen year old in Ripley, Surrey, and Edward Walter Fryer, a twenty-five year old soldier from Quebec. Fryer went to war just before Clapton was born, and returned home to Canada after that. Meanwhile, Clapton grew up with his grandparents and mother, believing his grandparents to be his parents and his mother to be his older sister. Several years later, his mother married another Canadian soldier and moved to Canada, leaving her son with his grandparents.
Clapton received his first guitar for his thirteenth birthday, an acoustic Hoyer, and found the steel-stringed instrument to be very difficult. He nearly gave up, but was influenced by blues artists of the time and practiced for hours trying to learn chords and copy the style of guitarists he listened to on his tape recorder.
After school in 1961, Clapton began studies at the Kingston College of Art, but was dismissed after the first year of school because he wanted to keep his focus in music. He played in public places for tips, and joined his first band when he was seventeen, a group called “The Roosters”. He left them in 1963.
This was about when he joined The Yardbirds, where he began to listen to blues artists from Chicago, including Buddy Guy and B.B. King. He formed a distinctive style and was soon talked about all over as one of the most promising guitarists in the British music scene. They first toured England with Sonny Boy Williamson Jr., and just after Clapton left the band in 1965, The Yardbirds had their first major single, “For Your Love.” It was during this time that he gained the nickname “Slowhand,” as a joke because he was such a fast guitar player. It was also during Clapton’s time with The Yardbirds that he became good friends with George Harrison of The Beatles, a friendship that resulted in Clapton playing guitar on the Beatle’s White Album in the song “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and many other Clapton appearances on Harrison’s solo albums.
A year after he left The Yardbirds, Clapton started his first ‘power trio’ band, called Cream. Cream consisted of bassist Jack Bruce, drummer Ginger Baker, and Clapton himself. Clapton started to hone his talents as a singer and songwriter, though most of the singing and writing was done by Bruce. It was with Cream that Clapton had his first appearance in the U.S.—“For Your Love” made it to the American Top Ten after Clapton had already left The Yardbirds. He became good friends with his ‘rival guitarist,’ Jimi Hendrix.
Cream’s music style varied, from soul-pop song “I Feel Free” to their bluesy instrumentals such as “Spoonful.” They quickly became popular, selling millions of records in both the U.S. and U.K. Although the super group was declared the “best of their day,” Cream was to be short-lived. Fighting between Bruce and Baker caused tensions among the three that led to Cream’s farewell album, aptly named “Goodbye.” In 1968, just two years after their birth and just before “Goodbye” was released, Cream disbanded. The only Cream reunions were in 1993, at their induction to the Hall of Fame, and a full-scale reunion in 2005, which consisted of four sold-out concerts in London and three more in New York.
Between 1969 and 1970, Clapton played in two more temporary bands, Blind Faith first, followed by Delaney and Bonnie and Friends. He also recorded his first, self-titled solo album, and played with several other artists, including Dr. John, Leon Russell, Billy Preston, Ringo Starr, and Plastic Ono Band.
Next, in 1970, came Derek and the Dominos. This name was reportedly an accident, when the original name Erik and the Dynamos was misread. Clapton fell in love with his good friend George Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd. She spurned his advances, and this was the inspiration for the Dominos album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. This album contained Derek and the Dominos’ explosive single, “Layla.”Clapton’s success as a musician masked his personal life, which was made increasingly difficult by drug and alcohol addiction. In 1971, he quit touring to hide at his residence in Surrey, where he indulged in heroin, cocaine, and alcohol. He kicked the habit with the help of Pete Townsend of The Who, and by 1974 he had quit Heroin and was dating Pattie, though the two of them didn’t marry until 1979. He continued to drink heavily. Hit singles such as “I Shot the Sheriff,” “Wonderful Tonight,” and “Cocaine,” came out, and brought Clapton to number one on the charts time and time again. “I Shot the Sheriff” was particularly influential in bringing reggae music to the forefront, and brought artist Bob Marley to a bigger audience.The eighties saw Clapton performing on Roger Waters' (Pink Floyd) solo album The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking and producing more solo albums of his own. Journeyman included collaborative works with George Harrison, Phil Collins, Daryl Hall, Chaka Khan, Mick Jones, David Sanborn and Robert Cray.
In 1984, Clapton began a relationship with studio sound assistant Yvonne Kelly, which resulted in his ‘secret daughter,’ Ruth. Boyd and Clapton finally divorced in 1989 after another affair with italian model Lori del Santo, which resulted in another child, Conor. Boyd had been unable to bear children, and reportedly ‘criticized’ Clapton’s keeping Ruth a secret, which became public in 1991.
In August of 1990, while touring with Stevie Ray Vaughn, their helecopter crashed and two members of the road crew, plus Vaughn, died in the accident. A year later, tragedy struck again when four year old Conor fell from the 53rd story apartment window where he was living with his mother. This resulted in the song ‘Tears in Heaven,’ a song expressing Clapton’s grief, cowritten by Will Jennings. That song alone won him six grammies that year.
In 1994, Clapton had a brief relationship with Cheryl Crow, and in 1999, at the age of 54, he met 23 year old store clerk Melia McEnery, whom he married in 2002. The two had three daughters, Julia Rose (2001), Ella May (2003), and Sophie Belle (2005).
Clapton’s grandparents eventually told him the truth about his parentage, and his lack of knowledge about his father was an apparent source of anxiety for him. Then, in 2007, with the help of benevolant journalist Michael Woloshuck, he found was able to get some more information about Edward Walter Fryer, born 1920 and died 1985. A saxaphone and piano player, he was a drifter who had several wives and a few children, apparently unaware that he was the father of Eric Clapton.
Eric “Slowhand” Clapton: well known guitarist, singer, and composer. When Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, George Harrison, Stevie Ray Vaughn, John Lennon, and others fell victim to drugs and accidents, Clapton managed to survive drug addiction, alcoholism, and tragedy. His style has influenced many artists, such as Jonny Lang and Bob Marley, and he has performed with members of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Queen, and The Who. His music will continue to be popular among blues fans, and influence other musicians in the future.
This essay is also in my other blog, Brii333: Ninja In Training, and I put it here because...well, that's what this blog is for--writing. Soooo, any constructive critisism you have to offer would be welcome. :) Always looking for tips on how to make my writing better.
Thankz,
Brii
Eric Patrick Clapton was born on March 30, 1945, to Patricia Molly Clapton, a seventeen year old in Ripley, Surrey, and Edward Walter Fryer, a twenty-five year old soldier from Quebec. Fryer went to war just before Clapton was born, and returned home to Canada after that. Meanwhile, Clapton grew up with his grandparents and mother, believing his grandparents to be his parents and his mother to be his older sister. Several years later, his mother married another Canadian soldier and moved to Canada, leaving her son with his grandparents.
Clapton received his first guitar for his thirteenth birthday, an acoustic Hoyer, and found the steel-stringed instrument to be very difficult. He nearly gave up, but was influenced by blues artists of the time and practiced for hours trying to learn chords and copy the style of guitarists he listened to on his tape recorder.
After school in 1961, Clapton began studies at the Kingston College of Art, but was dismissed after the first year of school because he wanted to keep his focus in music. He played in public places for tips, and joined his first band when he was seventeen, a group called “The Roosters”. He left them in 1963.
This was about when he joined The Yardbirds, where he began to listen to blues artists from Chicago, including Buddy Guy and B.B. King. He formed a distinctive style and was soon talked about all over as one of the most promising guitarists in the British music scene. They first toured England with Sonny Boy Williamson Jr., and just after Clapton left the band in 1965, The Yardbirds had their first major single, “For Your Love.” It was during this time that he gained the nickname “Slowhand,” as a joke because he was such a fast guitar player. It was also during Clapton’s time with The Yardbirds that he became good friends with George Harrison of The Beatles, a friendship that resulted in Clapton playing guitar on the Beatle’s White Album in the song “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and many other Clapton appearances on Harrison’s solo albums.
A year after he left The Yardbirds, Clapton started his first ‘power trio’ band, called Cream. Cream consisted of bassist Jack Bruce, drummer Ginger Baker, and Clapton himself. Clapton started to hone his talents as a singer and songwriter, though most of the singing and writing was done by Bruce. It was with Cream that Clapton had his first appearance in the U.S.—“For Your Love” made it to the American Top Ten after Clapton had already left The Yardbirds. He became good friends with his ‘rival guitarist,’ Jimi Hendrix.
Cream’s music style varied, from soul-pop song “I Feel Free” to their bluesy instrumentals such as “Spoonful.” They quickly became popular, selling millions of records in both the U.S. and U.K. Although the super group was declared the “best of their day,” Cream was to be short-lived. Fighting between Bruce and Baker caused tensions among the three that led to Cream’s farewell album, aptly named “Goodbye.” In 1968, just two years after their birth and just before “Goodbye” was released, Cream disbanded. The only Cream reunions were in 1993, at their induction to the Hall of Fame, and a full-scale reunion in 2005, which consisted of four sold-out concerts in London and three more in New York.
Between 1969 and 1970, Clapton played in two more temporary bands, Blind Faith first, followed by Delaney and Bonnie and Friends. He also recorded his first, self-titled solo album, and played with several other artists, including Dr. John, Leon Russell, Billy Preston, Ringo Starr, and Plastic Ono Band.
Next, in 1970, came Derek and the Dominos. This name was reportedly an accident, when the original name Erik and the Dynamos was misread. Clapton fell in love with his good friend George Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd. She spurned his advances, and this was the inspiration for the Dominos album Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs. This album contained Derek and the Dominos’ explosive single, “Layla.”Clapton’s success as a musician masked his personal life, which was made increasingly difficult by drug and alcohol addiction. In 1971, he quit touring to hide at his residence in Surrey, where he indulged in heroin, cocaine, and alcohol. He kicked the habit with the help of Pete Townsend of The Who, and by 1974 he had quit Heroin and was dating Pattie, though the two of them didn’t marry until 1979. He continued to drink heavily. Hit singles such as “I Shot the Sheriff,” “Wonderful Tonight,” and “Cocaine,” came out, and brought Clapton to number one on the charts time and time again. “I Shot the Sheriff” was particularly influential in bringing reggae music to the forefront, and brought artist Bob Marley to a bigger audience.The eighties saw Clapton performing on Roger Waters' (Pink Floyd) solo album The Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking and producing more solo albums of his own. Journeyman included collaborative works with George Harrison, Phil Collins, Daryl Hall, Chaka Khan, Mick Jones, David Sanborn and Robert Cray.
In 1984, Clapton began a relationship with studio sound assistant Yvonne Kelly, which resulted in his ‘secret daughter,’ Ruth. Boyd and Clapton finally divorced in 1989 after another affair with italian model Lori del Santo, which resulted in another child, Conor. Boyd had been unable to bear children, and reportedly ‘criticized’ Clapton’s keeping Ruth a secret, which became public in 1991.
In August of 1990, while touring with Stevie Ray Vaughn, their helecopter crashed and two members of the road crew, plus Vaughn, died in the accident. A year later, tragedy struck again when four year old Conor fell from the 53rd story apartment window where he was living with his mother. This resulted in the song ‘Tears in Heaven,’ a song expressing Clapton’s grief, cowritten by Will Jennings. That song alone won him six grammies that year.
In 1994, Clapton had a brief relationship with Cheryl Crow, and in 1999, at the age of 54, he met 23 year old store clerk Melia McEnery, whom he married in 2002. The two had three daughters, Julia Rose (2001), Ella May (2003), and Sophie Belle (2005).
Clapton’s grandparents eventually told him the truth about his parentage, and his lack of knowledge about his father was an apparent source of anxiety for him. Then, in 2007, with the help of benevolant journalist Michael Woloshuck, he found was able to get some more information about Edward Walter Fryer, born 1920 and died 1985. A saxaphone and piano player, he was a drifter who had several wives and a few children, apparently unaware that he was the father of Eric Clapton.
Eric “Slowhand” Clapton: well known guitarist, singer, and composer. When Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, George Harrison, Stevie Ray Vaughn, John Lennon, and others fell victim to drugs and accidents, Clapton managed to survive drug addiction, alcoholism, and tragedy. His style has influenced many artists, such as Jonny Lang and Bob Marley, and he has performed with members of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Queen, and The Who. His music will continue to be popular among blues fans, and influence other musicians in the future.
This essay is also in my other blog, Brii333: Ninja In Training, and I put it here because...well, that's what this blog is for--writing. Soooo, any constructive critisism you have to offer would be welcome. :) Always looking for tips on how to make my writing better.
Thankz,
Brii
Temporary Rock Star
With the shampoo as my microphone,
And the soap for my guitar,
I have a voice to rival millions.
Singing along with the musicians
Reverberating from my speakers
With as much power as I can muster.
I am where I feel I should be
In my mind, on a stage,
Voice rising through the steam
And suds making the bathtub
Dangerously slick.
I am a rock star,
Immortal in my talent. . .
Until I turn the water off, anyway.
And the soap for my guitar,
I have a voice to rival millions.
Singing along with the musicians
Reverberating from my speakers
With as much power as I can muster.
I am where I feel I should be
In my mind, on a stage,
Voice rising through the steam
And suds making the bathtub
Dangerously slick.
I am a rock star,
Immortal in my talent. . .
Until I turn the water off, anyway.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Mirror, Mirror
Looking in the glass,
+of+255897_res2_innerinsanity.jpg)
I actually can't remember where I found this picture...It was in one of the folders on my computer... I think it was from google images somewhere, or maybe photobucket... :/ hm. sorry.
I wish I couldn't see
The monster that lies hidden there,
Staring back at me.
Dodging glances in the halls
is not a problem here--
Invisible girl doesn't need to hide
In order to disappear.
This mask I wear is good enough
to keep the demon tame,
Although she cries to be let out,
Although my thoughts she maims.
Although my thoughts she maims.
Mirror, mirror, can't you show
Something that isn't mine?
The world will see a pretty face,
While I stay left behind.
I actually can't remember where I found this picture...It was in one of the folders on my computer... I think it was from google images somewhere, or maybe photobucket... :/ hm. sorry.
So Many Questions Ask The Same Stupid Thing
Will I ever be able
To be like you?
Can't I be pretty,
Small, and dainty, too?
A fragile beauty
The world wants to see--
Can I ever live up to
What I'm 'sposed to be?
The world's expectations
Are so hard to own.
Why can't I be the way
Why can't I be the way
I've always been shown?
With delicate hands
and a tniy waist?
Why can't all these eyes
Just give me my space?
I know that a beauty
I never will be,
So why do I try to
Be what they want to see?
I can't seem to help
This obsession of mine,
Though I know it's what's
Changing me, deep down inside.
Sedative
We're tired, broken down by fear,
A whispered, angry souvenir
Reminds us of the time we lost
When we became our own judge, jury, and cost.
And now, to myself, for my randsom,
My only requiem must be sung.
For my funeral pire is testing my ties...
My only solice is ashy butterflies.
To whom now should my love be paid,
The anthem how be sung,
When my faith walks on broken glass?
Memories are the only things that last.
A whispered, angry souvenir
Reminds us of the time we lost
When we became our own judge, jury, and cost.
And now, to myself, for my randsom,
My only requiem must be sung.
For my funeral pire is testing my ties...
My only solice is ashy butterflies.
To whom now should my love be paid,
The anthem how be sung,
When my faith walks on broken glass?
Memories are the only things that last.
Roller Coaster
Today is a drop of cool water on a
Parched desert floor.
Today is that rare occurance when the
Throbbing tick that stabs
Takes a lunch break.
Today is a pencil without a broken tip,
Working down to the cold metal cylander
Which signifies that time to retire.
Today is a brief glimps at life for a puppy,
Bissfully jumpy and trembling with joy
At the sight of someone to play with.
Today is that exploding cement truck
On the television screen, surrounded by
Excited, laughing pyro-technitions.
Today is dropping water balloons
On unsuspecting pedestrians, tingling with
The vivid hilarity of the shocked exclaimations.
Today is sitting under an angry squirrel's tree,
The entertaining moment before
That acorn cracks you on the skull.
Tomorrow is another melancholy tock
to accompany the empty tick that
tells you time is, indeed, moving forward.
Tomorrow is the lonely patch of brown grass
In the middle of the lawn, reminded of
It's failure by the surrounding sea of green.
Tomorrow is the promise you knew would break,
The earnest eyes of one saying they
Thought you knew they didn't mean it.
Tomorrow is the sick feeling
You knew you would feel
After the high.
Today is knowing
Tomorrow is knowing
Yesterday
Won't be back.
photograph by Billie Jo G.
Parched desert floor.
Today is that rare occurance when the
Throbbing tick that stabs
Takes a lunch break.
Today is a pencil without a broken tip,
Working down to the cold metal cylander
Which signifies that time to retire.
Today is a brief glimps at life for a puppy,
Bissfully jumpy and trembling with joy
At the sight of someone to play with.
Today is that exploding cement truck
On the television screen, surrounded by
Excited, laughing pyro-technitions.
Today is dropping water balloons
On unsuspecting pedestrians, tingling with
The vivid hilarity of the shocked exclaimations.
Today is sitting under an angry squirrel's tree,
The entertaining moment before
That acorn cracks you on the skull.
Tomorrow is another melancholy tock
to accompany the empty tick that
tells you time is, indeed, moving forward.
Tomorrow is the lonely patch of brown grass
In the middle of the lawn, reminded of
It's failure by the surrounding sea of green.
Tomorrow is the promise you knew would break,
The earnest eyes of one saying they
Thought you knew they didn't mean it.
Tomorrow is the sick feeling
You knew you would feel
After the high.
Today is knowing
Tomorrow is knowing
Yesterday
Won't be back.
photograph by Billie Jo G.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
