Thoughts from Inside

Package Part 1

2012-01-23T11:48:00.001-08:00

The white noise of conversation in a coffee shop washes over me as I wait. The damned contact is running late and there is only so long I can stand the chatter of people, I want to return to my home, that safespot where I feel that I belong. Out here among the people I feel more detached with each conversation about musicians and the weather. I would happily drive a knife into their ears for a second of quite.

Finally the reason I am here is dropped on the small table I have taken. Followed by the courier who has been making me wait, he looks like he has been through some trouble, but that is why I have paid him to do this for me. I don't like feeling unsafe in my interactions. Here I am safer then where he had to pick up the package. The courier places both hands on the table and looks at me, “There is an extra delivery charge for this one Mr. Smith.” The fake grin under her blue hair and eyes, is brittle only there so that she doesn't punch me and break my nose.

Taking a sip of my coffee I look over the rim of the cup and ask “Was the package damaged in anyway?” Brushing off he challenge to me, she isn't the first to have these difficulites and won't be the last. The package is all that is important to me. And my collections, this is the last one I have to worry about for a short while. Her hand close on my package and draws it towards her. “No the package is fine but I can't say the same for me, What is in box?”

Had she open the package, I quickly put down my cup and stared at the package. Brown paper was kind of dirty, but that was to be expected. The tape seems not to be tampered with. Seeing my interest the courier puts the package into her bag and puts that between her legs. Dear lord a group of bitches are talking about how drunk they got over the weekend and what they are going to do this coming up weekend. God damn it do they not realizes what treasure someone is withholding from me here?

Sweat drips from my neck down to the collar of my shirt. “Fine what do you want extra then?” I blurt out, my hands opening and close as if I had the package in my hands. I tug at my sleeve and slowly straighten my tie, I pulled out my money clip. The raised eyebrow, worries me. “What you wanted extra money right?” She shakes her head and looks me in the eye. “Boss, I want to see what is in the box.” I nearly fall out of my chair with this request. Crap she would have to come back home with me if this was to happen.

E-mail

2011-12-10T18:23:00.000-08:00

Message sent to multiple identities
lost to aether of name
symbols that have become people
people become numbers to be reached
meaning shorted to save time
but all is lost to say more

Drunken rambling

2011-10-08T21:42:00.001-07:00

The black ink falls on white paper
Like blood on a clean sheet
Dripping from slit wrists
As like the words fall from my mind
if spoken they would fall
and shatter on the wind.

Sweet wine draws them out fast
striking without thought
Black White Grey does not matter the font
Handwritten, Typed, or Spoken
Lost to the unclear either.

I cast them out for you to see
shared if thous will
released to the wilds of culture
hidden in this smaller corner I call my own
shouted at passer-by loud and proud
FUCK YOU sober thought
Listen to my words and fear
that their meaning is lost to you.

Lonely

2011-03-16T18:45:00.000-07:00

I find myself alone again, Woman sleep with me
Then their path takes them into other arms
Leaving me not even picking up pieces
For we never made anything to break
Only some physical activity and talk
I am left wondering if it is me that drives them away.

Calgary

2011-02-04T17:56:00.000-08:00

Everyone can fake the cowboy for 10 days a year
The rest of the time most wear a suit and tie, Oil is serious biz
Faking heart and soul the city drives those who have both out.
Left is an oily core surrounded by heartless areas of wealth.
No taste beyond cost, No flavor except others, Faking taste.
Even hip teens wear what magazines tell them to.
Nothing that sets us apart from a preformed city scape.
Even the rebels take their style from those before them.

Fixing a meal

2011-01-06T17:44:00.000-08:00

Pots, Pans, Grease.
Meat, Spice, Rub.
Oven, Hot, Temp 350.
Potatoes, Olive Oil, Herb.
Salad, Fresh Greens, Bowl.
Knife, Fork, Plate.
Friends, Food, Laughter.
Drinks, Cookies, Coffee.
Coat, Shoes, Done.

Sleeping Muse.

2011-01-06T16:58:00.000-08:00

Hey I know not many people read this, My guess is one lonely bot. I am writing but nothing I can post here. It is mostly work that might lead to something or work for a Larp I am in.

I guess my muse is sleeping right now for the winter.

Pencil and Paper

2010-11-30T16:33:00.000-08:00

Sharp pencil crawls across the page leaving a trail of words that form an image for those who can think, and have retained an imagination. Paper records in a digital age, I do so because it feel right, more real then just letters on a screen, something about physical action is natural to how I think and want to share eventually if ever. Now this is written I am planning to type it up and post it to my Blog.

2010-11-09T16:01:00.001-08:00

Water flows across my view
Drips down the pane of glass
Flashes of light as car and thunder pass
seeing the cold and wet world
start reminder of what is out there
nature and man not caring for the single life that is me.

2010-10-14T10:53:00.000-07:00

Time is something freely spent by all
Valued by few, true cost know by none
I let it slip thru my grasping hand
To be wasted worried about how to spend it
Each moment lost to pointless thought
I can see each moment fleeting away.

2010-09-28T13:13:00.000-07:00

Wild Flowers grow in city space
Pushed past the sidewalks cracks
A bright splash of Natural Colour
Quickly Step on by walking shoes
Seed ground against harsh asphalt
Green kick to the side of the road
or Pushed into the corners of Alleys.

The Summer Lady and Prince

2010-09-28T13:09:00.001-07:00

Flaxen hair blow in the breeze
Graced our town this lovely fair
She walk to and frow all the day
Seeking her Champion in each field
To Reward with favor, lovely and fair.

Her Summer Prince watches all
to keep the games free of
Winters chilled touch in mortal toil.
The strength of Spring in arm and spell
Keeps safe the town till festival end.

Winter Court sends two princes
And a handful of Red Caps
to vex and offer rewards for
Deeps dangerous and challenging
Twisted Rewards for Twisted minds.

2010-08-19T22:19:00.001-07:00

The Brighter lights leave darker shadows
When all seems right in both night and day
You all forget that for every night
After the darkness falls the dawn must break
And to your sorry holes, I hope you can flee.
Weathering the Dawn and it's harmful rays.
Reduced to waiting, dreaming for the day to end.
You rise once more to dance macabe
Each step seeming new is old as time
Your path are chains each much bare.
To be fresh and news, can not, will not do.
For all in eternal life must dance to this nameless tune.
To survive, to see all that was new turn to old
Trapped by the pipers tune Which does not change or grow anew.

Darkness

2010-05-17T15:01:00.000-07:00

Darkness set on our souls
The darkness flows and drowns the flame
But that fire burns all the brighter
to compensate for the black
and then we can see
that the number of fires are more then enough.

Guilding Lights

2010-05-17T14:59:00.000-07:00

I wrote this about people I knew a while ago

Two Guiding lights
They brighten the day
And truly shine at night
if I have gotten lost
or have lost my hope
These guiding lights
will set me back to course.

Cowboy Skys

2010-04-02T21:36:00.000-07:00

You always hear the cowboy Cry
About the rolling of the vast western sky.
Of thunderhead that can be seen for miles away.
The Rain, sand or hail storms seeming to quickly drift in
The tumultuous moods of a prairie sky.
Sometime staying to darken sky and mood
Other leaving but a taste to linger in memory.
All can agree the sight of white cloud
against a crisp blue sky
is something all do remember.

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Fantasy

2010-03-27T12:54:00.000-07:00

The play of words
a rhyme short and sweet
The silver tongue to mix
the basic of our speech
the poem or the song
to stir the fruitful loins,
inspire courage to all who hear
or make those men boot quiver in fear.
Our stories of old, retold from youth
to teach the lesson to the Bold
The Brave will take to their heart
the foolish to their grave.
All need know what deed been done
So that hero may live again
The clash of sword, and ring of blow.
All battles from before.
Our war of freedom barely won
For darkness still remains.
The tale you seek aren't mine to give
A minstrel you do want
For I am but a simple smith
Who muse inspires more then metal,
Both My tongue and voice
have also been shaped by
her to amuse the gentle nature of all.
Weapon of war I have forged
to balance the words of peace I do speak.

2010-03-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

Poetry that written word
is nothing without a pad
to records its' voice
For once spoken it can be lost
never to be found again.

Lost pages

2010-03-21T15:17:00.000-07:00

I wrote this on a blank page I found when I flipped through my notebook. And sorry I have written many poems lately, been busy with other projects. I written some jokes for a stand up comedy I might preform eventually and some other bit and pieces of things which might never see the light of day.

The Poem

Flipping through this book
I catch a sorry sight
Blank pages between the filled ones
An affront to my written work
lost pages that beg to be filled at last.

Or did once they hold my words
filled with written prose
an Homeric epic of cross Canada journeys,
The brilliant play for only the greatest actors.
All too much for men eyes
So they slipped off the page into eather.

Now it is my task
to fill this empty space
with my words, ideas, pictures all
or barring that world changing effort.
my idle ramblings about fruit and fish
the meat of which I might feast.
Oh wait that is but a grocery list.

Or should I leave the page unfilled
the reminder of what is possible,
a canvas blank never to be used,
someday to be returned to
when the time is right
to fill my empty pages of this book.

A Word

2010-03-02T16:04:00.001-08:00

A scrap of an idea I wrote down a while ago,

What can a word do you ask? A word can spark an argument, change your mind, create an idea, start a revolutions, reveal the truth. What is more powerful then the right word spoken. It is my hope that you find this and add to it pass it on and learn from what is contained within.

Friend Suggestion #1

2010-02-25T10:07:00.000-08:00

Pan-Galactic Love
Me and the guys were crushing the among the stars
When I meet the female of my dreams
Three green eyes, four purple arms, hair down to there.

She was the the only one for me
No matter the distance between
our hearts can't count the light years between,
The physical bodies of our planets,
Our mortal forms, or carbon shells.

Untitled/unfinished

2010-02-25T09:56:00.000-08:00

Our new poet laureate use their mic in place of pen
Scratched records and jumping beat in place of blank page
Reappers, DJs, Spinnders of the Hip-Hop Tunes
The prose has become that of the language of the street
Drugs, Death ever present in the hands of gangsters
Ballads of their life, full of bitches and hoes.

To Be a Geek

2010-02-19T09:14:00.000-08:00

What makes us a Geek?
Does it run in our blood,
Or is that the Dew?
The chatter of dice,
Our character on sheets?
Or is it more then all that,
Something to bind us
in the darkness.
That all is part of what we are
Geeks through and trough
now you mentioned some dew.
It's in the fridge.

2010-02-17T10:01:00.000-08:00

Like a wave washing against the shore, she has entered my life.
Wearing away some of my self every time we meet.
Is this change for Good or Ill or change for its own course.
I know not, can not know for I am slowly washed away.

For peoples informations

2010-02-16T20:25:00.000-08:00

I am pull what is posted today from a couple of other sites so if you have seen this before that is where. I did write everything, If I wanted I could dig out my paper and pen copies.

Older story

2010-02-16T18:23:00.001-08:00

I wrote this after listen to Engel by Rammstein a while ago. The images are what goes through my head whenever I listen to the song, seemed like a short film.

The doors of the Church flew open as the former preacher walked in he whistled to him self as the perditions of this Church looked at him. He pulled out the paired pistols his father had given him, they gleamed silver in the candlelight.
“Sinners all of you, you have left the path that God set out for you all.” He yelled at the shocked Church-goers. The Angels over his shoulders whispered to him. “The Lord will forgive you this task you do in his name.”
His footfall was the only sound in the church as the new preacher just looked at guns in the hands of the man he had come to replace. There was a glow about the former Leader of this flock; he looked just like the Saints in the stained glass window.
The first shot rang out in the church killing a man in the last pew. The sounds seem to freeze everyone in place as the Preacher began to walk down the center of the pews. “That man was the worse kind of Sinner, he had lost his faith long ago but keep coming to keep up appearances.” The twin barrels of pistol seem to draw everyone eyes to them as they wavered about the Chapel. They held the whole church with the power of life and death,
The Former Preacher seem to be praying as he aimed at different people in the pews. He would stop and listen to the Angels over his shoulder and when they joined him in his prayers he would shoot the person they prayed for. He had become Gods hand in passing out his judgment on these poor sinners. The ones, who had cheated, stole, committed adultery, and murdered innocents. The Angels and the Preacher were praying for all the souls of all there and that they would find more mercy in death, more then they had shown in life. Finally found himself at the alter look at the man who replaced him. The Angels become silent again as the two men of God looked at each other.
“There is nothing left for me to do here.” The Preacher then flipped both pistol around and laid them on the Alter Cloth. The inlayed silver of the pistol match the Cross-that was pride of this Church. He knelt down and seemed to wait for something, he pulled a simple wooden cross out from his blood stained shirt. His eyes were closed as people fled the death that had come to their peaceful church. The new Preacher looked at the dead bodies in the pews and saying a pray for their souls, grabbed the closest pistol and Shot the killer Preacher in the head. The Angels bowed their heads at this, knowing it was all planned to end this way.

Snow Poem.

2010-02-16T18:06:00.000-08:00

The sun shines on the wind blown snow,
Bright flashes like falling stars streaking down,
The frost on my window pane reaches upward,
The fresh white cover my view of evergreens,
a quite hush starts as more fluffy snow comes.

There is movement of a traveling coyote,
Padding across the snow covered yard.
Quite the track are covered in a blanket of white,
The sun sets after the movement is done,
Slowly the glowing moon will rise.

Tech Haiku

2010-02-16T18:05:00.000-08:00

Technology grows fast
Connecting the wired world
At the speed of light

Poetry

2010-02-16T18:02:00.000-08:00

I started this as a blank board for ideas. And well lately I been going through some old notebooks and finding poems I have wrote. On facebook I spoke about it and well it seems some people would like to read them so this is what is going to go on here from now on.

WiFi graffiti

2009-05-20T09:53:00.000-07:00

This concept is one that has been floating in my head for a bit, The concept is that someone sets up a wifi, hard drive and power sources. This combination is then left in a public stop open to anyone to upload their art to. That anyone can see it download a copy, edit or play around with it then re-upload it. A community art collective I guess. Eventually the devise would be taken down or moved, but as it was free and open people could upload the work they pulled off of it to the web. Maybe those that help fund it vie pay pal could choice the best piece of work that month and have it hosted.

Not sure if it could work but if you have the knowledge to help out please post a comment. I know not one person who reads this yet, but chance are someone is looking at it. Public form and all that. I might try and refine this idea over the summer.

Start

2009-05-13T08:39:00.000-07:00

Hello from in here.

I guess you might be wondering where here is, I would like to say my house, but really I think it is more from inside my own head. It's been a while since what is in here has made it to the written page, and I am starting with a blank page to write on. If I said I was starting with a blank slate it would be a fresh brain, but that is just silly talk.

I don't know if I am going to tell you about myself beyond what you might gather from the scattered thoughts I will post. Mostly these will be typed up journal notes from my carry-around book. I think everyone should have one of these, even if you never use it. I been trying to keep mine with me for the last 2-3 years. Not very good at it and I don't actually have dates for when things were written. But I am on my second one, I write down what ever strikes me at the time or address, and contact information. But sometimes I have story idea, funny things I see, a quick poem. But I figured that this is the internet and well I might as well see if anyone else will find this amusing, thought provoking, whatever.

Well for now I leave you with this opening post, hopeful joined by other soon enough.