Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Neue Gedichte(Musen, erste Entwürfe)
(with a sneer)
You said to yourself, "yeah, I want to be free."
Then go make yourself free,
Yeah, go make yourself free,
It won't bother me,
No, it won't bother me.
can't you see? Don't you see?
We're so trapped in our cage,
We're containers of rage,
There's nothing to do, kid,
I fell into that trap, too.
Graduation(title of poem II)
Then I’ll be gone.
The conclusions shall fall on your soul like a broken bookshelf,
You’ll be the renegade cop car to me terrorist escape van,
Fleeing down the 405 on a hot Josean night
And the doubt will be in the center of my mind—
To yield, or not to yield—
You know, I’ve waited so long,
Sent so many coded clues,
Practically threw the answer to the mystery on a brick through your bedroom window.
You missed it, (oblivious) and, though I should have given up on you,
As all criminal should, before the dastardly deed was done,
I retained a tiny spark of hope.
We’re in luck.
The spark ignites the diaphanous material making up my wearied soul,
Causing the car to catch fire and I pull over, suffocating,
The flame sucks the air from my lungs.
You resuscitate me, I am born again,
By breathing in, we are bound together.
***
Luck—I laugh.
It’s what brought you to me in the first place,
Oui,
Brought you to the early morning band room where,
By accident,
I confused you for someone else and fell in love,
Only to, henceforth,
Become disillusioned, dragged away; confused and beaten.
I think the second one, though making heavy usage of cliches, has more potential, whereas the first just sounds a bit like a Bright Eyes song. Happy New Years. Keep yearning.
You said to yourself, "yeah, I want to be free."
Then go make yourself free,
Yeah, go make yourself free,
It won't bother me,
No, it won't bother me.
can't you see? Don't you see?
We're so trapped in our cage,
We're containers of rage,
There's nothing to do, kid,
I fell into that trap, too.
Graduation(title of poem II)
Then I’ll be gone.
The conclusions shall fall on your soul like a broken bookshelf,
You’ll be the renegade cop car to me terrorist escape van,
Fleeing down the 405 on a hot Josean night
And the doubt will be in the center of my mind—
To yield, or not to yield—
You know, I’ve waited so long,
Sent so many coded clues,
Practically threw the answer to the mystery on a brick through your bedroom window.
You missed it, (oblivious) and, though I should have given up on you,
As all criminal should, before the dastardly deed was done,
I retained a tiny spark of hope.
We’re in luck.
The spark ignites the diaphanous material making up my wearied soul,
Causing the car to catch fire and I pull over, suffocating,
The flame sucks the air from my lungs.
You resuscitate me, I am born again,
By breathing in, we are bound together.
***
Luck—I laugh.
It’s what brought you to me in the first place,
Oui,
Brought you to the early morning band room where,
By accident,
I confused you for someone else and fell in love,
Only to, henceforth,
Become disillusioned, dragged away; confused and beaten.
I think the second one, though making heavy usage of cliches, has more potential, whereas the first just sounds a bit like a Bright Eyes song. Happy New Years. Keep yearning.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)