Sad Weather Novella (Poetry by Jane)
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| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Content Page 1. October's Murder. 2. Polaris (My Chemical Romance). 3. Louder Than A Whisper 4. 24-28 5. Hey Girl, You Shine So Bright. 6. A Jumbled Mess 7. Fragile 8. The Common Cynic. 9. Esoteric 10. Empty Talk and Night-time Walks 11. The Kid. 12. Dollar Dreams. 13. Bane. 14. Red Red Cage. 15. Giving Dreams. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | October's Murder. - September 18th, 2007 at 04:30am I hit a bit of a rough patch recently, stressed myself too much. But with the help of Ros, Nab, and most of all, most of all Jessie. I dared to write this. It's not one of my best, it's not even good. But it's me saying something, I'm not sure what, but I needed to say it, so here it is. "He who fights monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster. And when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back into you." -- Friedrich Nietzsche _______________________________________ October stares at herself in the mirror, worried crows' feet perched uglily atop her face, digging so deep, it's a wonder no blood has been drawn. The mirror stares back. Look, look at yourself. I am. No, look deeper. It reflects the black abyss of her mind, revealing the hidden words, the angry words, the scared words, the dying words. Imprisoned deep in the abyss. Pinned down by chains of guilt, of fear, of feelings with no names. The syllables quiver and tremble, vowels and consonants hugging tightly for warmth. Chattering teeth - fangs once sharp with poignancy, now blunt and dulled by gnawing desperately at the chains. Gnawing at the darkened cell, for freedom, for light, for warmth. Dying of cold. October reasons with the mirror. If I let them go, they'll explode! In a shower of lava, fireworks, emotion - pain. They'll surround the air with sulphur, heat, burning temperatures, burning themselves from the ------------------ inside- ----------out- If they escape, they'll die. They'll self-destruct, a bloody mess of words. Blackened to a crisp, meaning lost on ink-stained, bloody, apathetic paper. From the black abyss of a fearful mind, To the white abyss of the callous sheets, drowning, blinding, destroying the meaning (the life) of the trapped words. Don't you see? I hide my pen, I tear the paper, I let the words die, inside the black abyss, decomposing slowly: words broken down to half-formed thoughts. Half-formed, half-dead, almost gone, forever lost. Don't you see? I let the words die, to save myself. I let the words die. The mirror stares back at October, darkened eyes defiant. You let the words die. __________ Polaris. (My Chemical Romance). - December 12th, 2007 at 12:33am Like a lost little girl, all alone in this world, too afraid to endure all this pain, will your words guide me home, take my hand, don't let go. And I promise you that I will stay. I'm praying for some light With my headphones as armour and your words as my sword, I'm brave enough to walk in this world, An angel this starless night This song is my midnight flight home through the frosted windows, the tiny streetlamps light my way back. Back to your arms. Will you be my only hope? Like golden-orange and silver-white rivers, criss-crossed and bleeding into each other. Your words flow through my veins, these songs for survival. So just promise me Your smile looks like home, because home is not a place, it's a feeling, it's how I feel when I think about you. with your smiles and your love I feel like you'll catch me, even if I want to fall. And in your arms, forever I'm safe. And even when we aren't it's ok. It's ok. Just promise me My Chemical Romance, your words, your music, your stories, your love. You will stay. It's like air, it's in us and all around us, and we can never get enough of it. We will never get enough of it. Then I can promise you We are the alley-way kids, the weakest of the land, starving and broken, the beaten and the damned. and your light keeps us awake keeps us strong, keeps us fighting, on the long flight home, it keeps us. I'll be okay. _________ Louder Than A Whisper - December 31st, 2007 at 11:30pm So, I'm having a very bad writer's block. And everything I've written is crap, but I figured I had to start somewhere, start over again, post and write and get better instead of just chucking away everything. So here it is, dedicated to Nab. Dedicated to 11/12/2007. _______________________________________________ I can close my eyes for you and let it be december eleventh again. make a wish at 11:11pm, open your eyes at 11:12, and I'll be there. She said I'm giving my heart to you, one whisper at a time. I have this recurring dream that you're with me, that you'll never leave me, she whispered. There is this trail from my heart to you. Made of crinkled leaves and crumpled notes, You precautiously step around each piece of paper, like my fragile words are worth preserving. Everything about you is worth preserving. It's like you were sent here to save me, she whispered. Don't leave me once I'm saved. She whispers every word, tentative, careful, like if she spoke too loud, someone would hear, someone who would take everything away. Like she's too afraid to be happy, to have someone who could matter so much. Stop loving me, before I get in too deep. Because if you leave me then, if you leave me then- I can't live without you anymore. I'll be loud for you, I'll be happy for you, I'll love you first. I'll always be there. No one can take me away from you. Today will be our forever. I'm telling you now, I'm not afraid to let it be known. Time may pass us by without saying a word, but today can be our forever. __________ 24-28 - January 21st, 2008 at 03:59pm 3. The sun sets, (on our youthful hearts.) The moon rises, (and the stars start to part.) One bright entrancing line, ("straight on til morning." ) A reminder of your childish dream, (eternal youth, a curse/a blessing.) The sun awakes, (it's a brand new day.) please, love, don't go away. tell me we can stay, (forever, just this way.) 2. if only we knew what we were waiting for. if only we knew what life had in store. if only we knew what paths to take. if only we knew our fun would end by daybreak. we're in such a hurry, i'm getting so dizzy. if only we could hold on to this forever, if only we could make this moment longer, if only we could make our endings less bitter. if only we could say (for sure) "tomorrow will be better" i'm sorry, i'm not ready. 1. Can't we stay? Forever, just this way. Please. 3 2 1 Are you ready? __________ Hey Girl, You Shine So Bright. - February 10th, 2008 at 08:59pm I emptied the sky to make you a comfortable nest of clouds, like a dozen white pillows for you to lie atop. And lose yourself in them, lose yourself for just awhile. And be reminded of just how small you are Just how small your problems can be when you're hiding in a bed of clouds. Don't look down. Hey girl, don't drown. I borrowed a few rays from the sun, he said "hey girl, don't burn yourself". I borrowed a few rays to keep you warm so when the sun goes down, girl, you'll never go cold. Don't look down, Hey girl, why the frown? The stars were selfish, they had no twinkle to spare, but that's quite alright, that's quite alright. See girl, you already shine so bright. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | A Jumbled Mess - February 23rd, 2008 at 12:49am I've forgotten how to shout. I built W to A keep L my L thoughts S in. to___W stop A them L from L esc- S _____aping. My mind is a butterfly net, with its tiny holes growing Larger. The gaps in the poorly woven Nylon expanding. And my words shrinking and flutter, fluttering Away. When I was 14, I failed Miserably at sewing class. Mrs Ng said, "Jane, everything will fall Apart, you're not doing this right". I would probably fail at medical school too. My words hide in my heart still. When I was 16, a hole formed, tiny, unnoticeable, then large, larger, undesirably noticeable. Familiar gap, words started pouring out and in a fit of panic I sewed it shut, Shut tightly. Just like Mrs Ng taught me to. I sewed it shut properly. My words have never been the same _______and I've forgotten how to shout. __________ Fragile - March 2nd, 2008 at 08:56pm The Glass Tumbles. We hear a shocked cry. A blur in the background rushes with a towel in aid. It cleans up the mess, growing heavier, oppressed with water. Now hold up, let's find out what happened. A small glass, on a shaky table and a hasty waitress fills up the glass To The Brim. Suddenly a rumble passes through shaking the already shaky table. Like an elephant in a china shop, some might say. Only, not really. Because only the small glass tumbles. And tumble it did. Spilling its contents and rolling down to the floor before the blur in the background could catch it. Smash! The Glass Tumbles. __________ The Common Cynic - March 11th, 2008 at 10:43pm I had a dream last night that I stood up for myself. I looked in the mirror, and said, "Stop." Stop, stop it. Your life is beautiful. Realise it, and start living. I felt a little bit of my misery wipe off, and the mirror smiled, it said, "Go on child, prove yourself right." Prove yourself wrong. You know you're confused when you're on both sides. I saw a sign yesterday, it said, "If you're waiting for a sign, this is it." In any other situation, it would be hilarious. Unironically, of course. But in this situation, in my situation, it just made me sad. I've waited for signs, I've had them thrusted in my face, screaming in bright colours, "Live. Live." Live. I guess I'm still waiting for courage. We're all cowards, you know that, and it's alright. Only when you wish to live A Beautiful Life, then your cowardice serves as a problem. It's a paradox, really. I wish I was brave enough to be nothing at all, to be odinary and yet love it. Love myself. And then there are the times when I wish I was brave enough to be that something special. Last night, I dreamt that I stood up to myself. Then I woke up a coward. The mirror greeted me and said, "Good morning, are you ready to start living?" Now what's that saying again? "Brand new day, Same old shit." __________ Esoteric. - March 21st, 2008 at 12:17am I wanted to begin this by telling you I've lost my way, I've forgotten who I am. But then the words formed in my head, like they always do, jumbled up, too pretty for me to comprehend. Too beautiful to escape my mind. So instead I have to tell you that I never did find my way. I set out years ago, onto the road of Obligatory Identity Crisis. I thought I found myself. When the dust finally settled, I thought my mind did too. But like with most things, I was wrong. I'd like to be able to describe my confusion in decorated metaphors, to show you how I could be smart, how I could be everything I'm trying to be. So I'll confess that at one point in my life, I was a sheep in wolf's clothing, halo rusting. Pretending, pretending to be bad, to be brave, to be the girl you'd dreamt of meeting, you know, the one with the crazy hair and screwed up heart. The kind of girls you read about in those crazy cult novels, Smart, full of quirks and snappish wit. Girl's who'd break your heart and stay on your mind. But I'm just a plain jane. Always have been, always will be. The first time you meet me, you won't even notice me, your eyes will be set on the two beautiful girls behind me. The ones sipping their drinks and pretending to be too cool to care if anyone took an interest to them. I'm sorry, I digress. The whole point of this was to tell you that I still don't know who I am. Or perhaps I do, I'm just so unsatisfied that I won't settle. I want to be the girl you'd remember, your love at first sight. The girl you'd talk about when you're drunk with your friends, and exclaiming, "She's amazing, I want to spend the rest of my life with her." If this ever reaches you, will you be brave enough to break my heart? Because I know, I know somewhere at the back of my mind behind those figurative walls everyone has built up to keep things in and keep things out, that you'd never fall in love with a plain jane. And no matter how many times I've told you I don't know who I am, I don't think I'll ever find myself As anything more than that. The background character, the one in the credits as Girl in Classroom #2. and You, you'll always be the leading man. and someone else will be the leading girl. So yeah, I never did find my way. And yeah, you'll never notice me, and this, this letter of a pathetic confession which is more confusing than touching will never find its way to You. I hope it never finds its way to You. Forever, Jane. __________ Empty Talk and Nighttime Walks - April 14th, 2008 at 10:48pm Inspired by Dave Eggers' What The Water Feels Like To The Fishes _______________________________________________ Let's for a day not question our existence, and take a moment to just be. "Why do you get the attention?" said the grass to the flower. And why am I the weed, we ask, in the garden of blossomed beauties. Let's for a day not want exceptional, and take a moment to just be. The most unique line I've ever heard was from a man who wanted the courage to be Normal. And what defines unique, but our own minds, so why, Why do we restrict ourselves? Say, doesn't the song go, you don't need wings to fly? "If you mix a rainbow you get dull brown," my art teacher once said. When I was younger and not analysing every detail, I would have laughed at the irony. Sometimes, I just wish I could. Sometimes, I just wish I were. Let's for a day not want different, and take a moment to just be. Acceptance is the largest virtue none of us can accept easily. I am happy with myself. I like who I am. Envy is the largest sin that dominates all men. "What does the water feel like?" the human asked the fish. "And what does the air feel like?" the fish asked back. Sometimes, I just wish I could. Sometimes, I just wish I were. Sometimes, I just find myself asking, "When did society decide only the successful can be happy? And when did we decide to follow society's definition?" "When did my life become my job?" The left cubicle moans. Sometimes, I just wish I could. Sometimes, I just wish you would. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | The Kid. - April 19th, 2008 at 01:02am My body is made up of words too complex for my vocabulary to translate. My mind is made up of ideas too mature for my naive heart to understand. I am old, but too young to explain. I am young, but too old to be inspired. I can speak for years but my stories will forever be trapped. I believe that some ideas are too big for our small voices. Do you remember that time when you lit up, thought of something genius. But you couldn't make others understand? Do you remember that time when you lit up, thought of something beautiful. But you couldn't draw it on paper? Do you remember that time when you lit up, thought of something meaningful. But you couldn't write it out in words? I wish I were a poet. With the patience to look for the words I needed. The words I thought you needed to read. So small, this language we convey in. So small, these lives that we live in. Yet so big, these ideas that we think in. I wish I were a dreamer. In a world where nobody could speak, and all we had were the stories behind our eyes. At graduation, our eyes would say, "Thank you mom, dad, for everything you've done." Before our first kiss, our eyes could say, "I'm nervous, I'm sorry if I do this badly." Before we waved goodbye, our eyes could scream, "I never told you 'I love you' enough times." Before we hugged hello, our eyes would scream, "You're back, I love you. Don't ever leave me again." I wish I were an inventor. To invent a word for 'happiness I was too selfish to share.' A word for 'sadness I was too weak to keep'. Small enough words for oversized feelings. A device to translate our hearts to others' minds. Names for places I've dreamt of. Names for people who died before they had the chance to change the world. My body is made up of words too complex for my vocabulary to speak. My mind is made up of ideas too mature for my naive heart to comprehend. I am old, but too young to teach. I am young, but too old to learn. I can speak for years but my stories will never be heard. __________ Dollar Dreams. - May 16th, 2008 at 10:37pm I invented a world in my dreams last night, it was full of faceless suits and ironed ties. I crept around, this world was silent. Except for the old man in one corner, dressed in rags and peeling lips on his face hoarsely he called out, "thoughts for a penny." Beside the old man was a tray of jars, each with different coloured covers. "Thoughts for a penny", the old man said. Faceless suits walked past, hands gesturing 'no, old man, I'm late.' 'no thank you, sir.' The old man sat with one jar clasped to his chest, (red red cover, there was nothing inside) a peeling frown set on his face. He leaned his head backwards, and rested against the weary wall. The tray of jars crumpled and disappeared (yellow orange blue blue covers.) and i woke up in my bed. __________ Bane. - June 9th, 2008 at 11:00pm But now I cannot speak. She can no longer place her troubles in me. I cannot hear her cries for I am too consumed in my own softly uttered cries like tiny stars hidden by the night. And I was caught off guard by her words like a creeping chill across the room. Let me be your voice, She whispered, and I could not refuse her. She hears me now, for I have stopped listening to her. She hears the bruised prayers my eyes hold, and the stiffness in my side. She cannot heal, but she tries. We cannot hold our heads up high, still she holds my hand through it all. Each night she covers my heart in hers as we look up at the victims in the sky. We conspire up ways to save them like we were once saved. By this delicate coincidence, that my silence and her concern could bring our troubles together. But I am the absence of light in a tunnel, and she is the end of it all. Our hearts are the empty oceans the parasites of our minds invade. These white rooms wither beneath our burnt soles, like the witches of Salem, hung to prove a point. The pain in our dreams we carry in our pockets burn holes across the paths we walk. Yet she maintains, and as do I, this delicate coincidence that our troubles could bring them all together. And we will save them like we were saved. But I am the absence of light in a tunnel, and she is the end of it all. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | This is a new poem! And it's a little different from all my previous poems, in terms of style and concept. I haven't written in about a month, almost, and I'm a little rusty, so hope this isn't too bad to read. As usual, comments appreciated. _______________ "I won." She says, her voice a quiver. She runs past the second red door, eyes darting left, right, searching, pleading. Her heart pounds against her ribs, it wants escape from its cage. Like she wants escape from this repetitive cage. Red door after red door. She doesn't dare to open it. She won't. The metal handle gleams menacingly and she looks away, running in the opposite direction. Sweat trickles into her eyes. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear her vision. The grimy walls disappear, appear, disappear, appea- The brick wall laughs at her. Dead end. Red door after red door, she runs. Trying to escape this grimy prison. Let me out of here. Please let me go, please let me go, please let me go. The words run around her head, running, running, praying. Something creaks from behind her. She stiffens. In the seconds that it takes her to unroot her feet from the ground, three scenarios play without permission in her mind. One. She turns. And a masked man is before her. Glinting knife hairs away from her neck, her eyes burning. Two. She turns. And there's writing on the wall. You will never get out of here. Three. She turns. And a group of police men rush past her, checking the house, guns at the ready. "Are you alright. Are you hurt." She turns. And there's another Red door in front of her. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm getting out of here," she shouts, to the masked man, to the wall, to the police. She opens the red door, and sunlight greets her. She's safe. She's free. The door closes viscously, and the house growls behind her. "I won," She says, and she doesn't look back. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime  Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | I was convinced this was going to have some sort of depressing ending you know, but then I got to the end and I was all, "Crikey", the ending was so uplifting and sort of "YEAH POWER TO THE PEOPLE" XD. I loved how it had this like, horror story vibe, reminded me a bit of The Shining for some reason. You created a brilliant frantic atmosphere aswell. it wants escape from its cage. Like she wants escape from this repetitive cage. I thought the double use of 'cage' jarred a bit there but apart from that, as usual your structure made it come to life. And, it was very very very [insert as many of those here as you like] clever. Like yours always there, theres always a point and I love it : ) As you well know <3 |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Giving Dreams. - August 16th, 2008 at 3:04am Her words crowd the streets with soft pirouettes and faint, blushing roses brushed up the side of lonely street lamps. A reflection of everything I've abandoned. I am selfish, but I loved her. With reckless abandon, and a drowning heart, all I could do was float around aimlessly, like a message in a bottle, anonymous to hopeful and eager. And all she can blame me for is that, I couldn't bear to stay away, Blame the winds, sweetheart, and destiny too. But I will forever love the day that I met you. Blame the winds, sweetheart, and destiny too, But I will forever be sorry for the day I left you. My old whispers filling up the ocean, and millions of bottles float aimlessly to ex-lovers, and always-on-my-minds, to tell them, "I loved you". To tell them, "I cared". She floats on the edge of my mind, teetering, hesitating, she smiles, then she's gone. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | Wow Jane talk about heartache. This conjured up just the images you described, perfectly, this really vast sea, it was different to some other stuff you come up with but still it seemed to achieve its aim. It was all sweet and I loveloveloved the imagery in the first stanza especially. <3 |
| Switchblade Saint Salute You in Your Grave  Age: - Gender: Female Posts: 2601 | your words are so beautiful, i think i need to cry. srsly....I'm voting u Poet of the Month. Like now. |
| Tilly and the Wall Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 31 Gender: - Posts: 1850 | Giving Dreams Oh, Jane, you know what a big fan I am xD I must say that the style is awesome. It's perfect for the poem, so it's read in just the right way and the emotions are given time to develop. It is surprisingly deep and meaningful considering the length and the simplicity of words used, which is why I think it's great, because you've described a few complex ideas, thoughts and feelings accurately, without making it a cliche. The descriptions are very well done and the imagery is also well done. Like Jessie said, I can see what you've written. Amazing, in the full sense of the word. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Thank you three so very much! <333 |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Remorse. If this was the last book ever written, it would open like a chinese fan, in the wake of the sadness and loss. People would look out their windows or boxes and they would see the city still. So still and patient, like waiting for something or someone with the hope only a child can manage. And the people in their houses or boxes would sigh and draw shapes and stars in the frost on the glasstables or the dust on the floors. Shapes and stars that existed in a better world. And the last book, like a chinese fan would flutter back and forth, and the wind that blew through the words of a tale would say, "Once upon a time" there was beauty. |
| kid from yesterday. Bleeding on the Floor  Age: 34 Gender: Female Posts: 1265 | I loved that. I really loved that. I am rusty at commenting now, so yeah, I'll stick to that comment: loves it. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Thanks Nab. <3 I haven't written or commented in ages - kinda lost my touch a bit. |
| kings of leon. Always Born a Crime Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 6213 | "Once upon a time" there was beauty. If ever I read a line worth scratching into plaques and gravestones and monuments or just scrawling over motorway bridges so everyone could see them, it's that. |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Thank you so very much, Jessie. <3 |
| purveyors of dreams. Salute You in Your Grave Age: 32 Gender: Female Posts: 2253 | Carry me. We stood before each other, taller than trees, lighter than birds, and the wind carried us to worlds unknown. To happiness, and hope, to fear and to sorrow, and all these words meant home. Our shadows protected us from the sun, as it tried to melt off our smiles, but we stood like trees, strong and proud, with our grins shining back, saying, sun, mr sun, don't try to push us down. We'll never hurt anyone ever again, in these worlds where we stood like trees. Not in one spot, but everywhere, and we sang, we were happy, we were free. In all these words meaning home, we were safe, alone, but we had each other. And I turn to you, as you turn to me, and each other, is all we need. |
| Tilly and the Wall Bleeding on the Floor Age: 31 Gender: - Posts: 1850 | Man. I love, love, love your poetry. It has an air about it that is very different. The way you write is just so immortal. I'm not making sense xD but I just haven't read any poetry for a long, long while. And when I get this after that, I'm kinda obligated to lose my senses  |
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