Another logging... this one inspirational!! Yeah, I probably spelled that wrong. Heh, well, this morning Alison pursueded me to join her and all her crew at Emily's coffee shoppee (love the old English spelling, neh?)... and so I decided to, after Will and Erik went to Alex's. No, no I'm not bitter... not in the slightest. Anyway, Emily, m'dear, you are sex-ellent, to steal from people who say that! She writes all her own music, it is so great. And the coffee there is delicious, sweet enough, strong enough, rich enough. I just wish I was a critic for some magazine so I could get that place more publicity, tis so good. It was quite satisfying to be there with Matt, Andrea, Drew, Alison, Colleen, and Em... I'm really going to miss everyone next year. I don't know what I'll do!! What was the point again? Ah, yes, the whole concept of writing in general. Emily is a goddess, allow me to say, of putting lyrics to a melody. I'm really hoping she'll do that for Eons Under a Blue Moon, which just reminded me of the song in my profile, Mystic Eyes, which I'm discussing with David right now. Apparently, he likes the lyrics. It's a Japanese song, but I put the English translation into my profile because it is such a good song. I must download it sometime... So, tonight has been themed with writing songs and poetry and preforming them and the meaning of lyrics. And, as always, there comes an emotion with all of that. At the moment, I'm in my most adult form I can be without actually trying. Whenever I'm with my older friends, I'm like that. It's odd. Only sometimes am I like that with people my age. I feel I act very young aroung Alison and her friends, so I always put on my most mature mood. Not that it has any difference, because that's the mood I feel most comfortable with in the first place. Which means I want to be mature... Well, not really. I resent the whole concept of maturity, but it's all good.
So, at the moment I am building a friendship with Alex online and talking to Steve about today. And, now Erik is online so I'm talking to him. Well, there's not much more for me to update you on, unless you want me to tell you about my trip to the dental sergeon. I was hoping he would be a young, attractive oral-sergeon, but, alas, my prayers were not answered... Ok, I haven't prayed for myself in a long time. In fact, I refuse to. Even if there is a God in existance who will answer my prayers, I don't think I desearve to have them answered, especially if it's something selfish. I only pray for other people, but I do wish for myself, and in this case I wished for a sexy dentist, but it didn't come true. He's old. And he has bad teeth. Doesn't that just throw you?? That the dentist has bad teeth? Well, that's my story, for now... I really have nothing else to add, unless you want me to write a poem. I really should, considering this blog is "Poet? You know it!"
Poem: Metaphor
Trinkets from my memories,
Melting into melodies.
Lyrics from some far off place,
Coasting in from outer space...
Truth and lies and other things,
Wrap around the tune you sing.
Without tears from your eyes,
I still understand these lulabies.
The sweet child in between us,
Is all we share anymore.
The sweet child between us,
Growing, like our metaphor...
Parler, kitchen; all alone,
Silent ring on a distant phone.
I rise from my slumber there,
Come to meet you, unprepared.
Candles burning in my eyes,
Fires billow across the skies...
There is a lesson to be learned,
There is a new page to be turned...
The sweet child in between us,
Is all we share anymore.
The sweet child between us,
Growing, like our metaphor...
There was a youth we once shared
There was a childhood we sacrificed...
And our choices have led us here...
The sweet child in between us,
Is all we share anymore.
The sweet child between us,
Growing, like our metaphor...
The innocent between us...
All we share
All we share
Anymore...