Scribble

ewe_decomposed @ 2007-12-01T23:28:00

2007-12-02T04:23:59Z

been a bit evidently. much scribbling of various quality and quantity has passed unposted. I doubt anyone's noticed though. Here's some more for the armpit of the internet.

streetlights
paint over stars
with orange electric glow,
though they illuminate
infinity
in falling snow

To Live

2006-12-04T00:10:09Z

Dan and I went down by the riverside
in pursuit of peace.
We sat, with cans in hand
while a tall native man
collected Olde English bottles
from the next bench
and offered a friendly command,
'Get 'er done boys,
Get 'er done,'
then walked off with his friends.
So we did,
looking out over the river
at seagulls fighting for fish
the old railroad bridge
and No Frills
with its leech-like compactor
sucking food from its back.

no change

2006-12-04T00:02:38Z

Sitting
doing Spanish exercises
Outside the rain plays
a strange rhythm
Wilson is curled up
asleep on my bed
the electricity goes out
no change
no shudder of thunder shakes the sky
the cat stirs
but doesn't wake
I continue
with my work.

In Memory

2006-11-23T03:57:02Z

When fallen leaves have faded with the weather
and time still silently slips by
not all that remains
is the way light captured their colours,
brightly,
in the minds' eye
of those who now wonder why
the circle continues turning.
Uncaring the seasons may seem to be
but from winter's womb
we might still see
the birth of a few new leaves.

Bored in class:

2006-11-22T00:30:32Z

Never Known

Ever been walking down yellow-lined lanes
and noticed how all those Others,
conservatively dressed women,
men with close-cut manes,
look at you,
all askew
as thought humanity has vanished,
with memories,
at that first sign
of youth.
Don't get upset
over such scared glances,
eyes have yet to throw stones
and no one knows
all that may be known.

From this summer: (Though more recently altered)

2006-11-22T00:26:56Z

Shovelling Soybeans From A Silo

we manipulate the shapes
of mountains and plains
Labourers with no names
our shovels shift drifts
and soon
the formation
has changed
again.

From a birthday gift to another.

2006-11-22T00:23:15Z

I am a notebook and this is my
call: "Fill my pages, fill them
all. With images, ideas, inspirations
and thoughts, just write and
revise a lot. What's put to page
need not be the best, just review,
think anew and continue to test."

bbbbbbbbbbblllllll........

2006-11-22T00:20:35Z

Leftover Chinese Food

A forkful of chinese food,
soon forgotten,
is many small bites of:
rice, peas (2 types)
carrot
broccoli
water chestnut
mushroom
celery
tomatoes

iiiiibbbbb..........

2006-11-22T00:16:21Z

Riding the Greyhound

My ticket taken
I sit back
to fade in and out
with the music
from headphones next to me
and will wake up when
I need to.
When?

scriii...........

2006-11-22T00:13:04Z

Take Flight

A sparrow skips away from
oncoming feet,
flutters a few
and at last,
takes flight.

catching up on scribblings

2006-11-22T00:10:27Z

DO

so long obsessed
with image, dress
and how others perceive me
I spent my time wondering
why what, how and who,
so long forgetting
that all-important
do.

ewe_decomposed @ 2006-05-10T12:13:00

2006-05-10T16:16:32Z

Unfortunately I will most likely not be updating at _all_ this summer (Not that that's a drastic decrease in the amount of my posting), as I am leaving tomorrow to work on a farm for the summer. I'm working with Frontier College's Labourer-Teacher program and so I will be living and working with migrant Mexican workers and helping them to learn English to whatever extent and for whatever purposes they so desire. I suspect I will be learning more of Spanish than I can hope to teach them of English, but that can't be helped as there are supposed to be 10-15 of them and one of me.

I will be keeping a written journal and working on my writing as I can throughout the summer so when I return I should have plenty to share.

-John

Today

2006-03-26T23:00:55Z

Beyond the fog, the musk and distortions
the mulled maids of mythic proportions
dance between lichen dressed boulders and trees
in a mislaid land of beatific scenery

The bubble of brooks and the cries of birds
echo from the well of Joys and Sorrows
again and again the word 'Tomorrow'
mutely resounds, an anthem in a word.

A call to the left, a cry from behind,
those sounds lead me awry of the find.
Frustrated, near defeat, I sigh and I say,
'No more. I Will make Tomorrow, Today.'

The musk dissipates, away the fog rolls
revealing to me the woods I may stroll
as I live and I breathe, as I cry and I smile,
forever Today as I walk this long mile.

ewe_decomposed @ 2006-03-01T03:04:00

2006-03-01T08:08:05Z

Relax. Shut your eyes. Glimpse the rolling purple skies.      
Tumble down pink yellow green breathing hills of plasticine.

Welcome.

2006-02-16T07:10:24Z

I was lying in bed, having woken after about 4 or 5 hours of sleep, sometime around Christmas this past winter break when I felt that I needed to write. I finally looked back to that and this is what came out.

The hum speaks to me,
  of instant gratification,
   and infinite wisdom
  of despair lost and found,
  of beauty, foulness, tragedy
  of masquerade,
  of stark nudity.
The hum speaks to me,
  of sleepless hours
  of dark and light,
  of days wasted,
   and the best spent nights
I find myself in everyone that
   listens.

I'm not certain how often I will be updating this journal. We shall see. Perhaps it will evolve into something that I use frequently.