Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Atmosphere Air 4 - Background Music

Mood: Alienated
Sound Waves: BT by See-Saw

Island of Desks

The blister bubbling on my right pinky toe is beginning to swell
Alongside this stupid pride of being the well dressed on of the room.
My eyes are glued towards the plastic screen and my ears
Should only be listening intently to the furious discord of black keyboard keys.
But instead, behind my back
Are these voices.
Voices that sound so happy, but poisoning my trust altogether.
So full of themselves.
So wanting to show how much they have that much know-how of doing such
Useless banter.
I hate it.
I want to block it out.
I don't care who won.
I don't care if your test mark is better than everyone in the room.
I don't care if there's something bugging your laptop.
I don't want to know who's finally gotten together with that one person.
What use do I have when I wish for not to listen to it?
Proclaiming such things should be written, not told around
The others among your happy wreckage.
Ignorance is bliss, in my book.
They make me feel like a black sheep, which is laughable considering my attire.
One pleads for someone's lunch, and mutitasks also about their considered race.
One pretends this life is some stupid board game that everyone else should understand.
One is hesitantly just hanging onto the wavelength of the conversation, laughing along.
Selfish, without knowing it.
That's just the way they are.

I was once part of such a socially active island.
I was once ignorant of whoever looked my way.
Wanting to be part of the group of stars
That constantly gossip about themselves, like instant five o'clock newscasts.
Now I feel bending my head and ignoring the
Bothersome voices is all I need to wish for the damned clock to strike
For the next block
So that they can scatter and be together somewhere else.
....which doesn't happen, once the bell tolls dimly over their
Chorus of sarcastic jargon.

Can't they just shut up and do some work for once?

Atmosphere 4 - Dancing Without

Mood: Heartache
Sound Waves: Half-Pain by Bana


I found his silver linked bracelet
Underneath my bed the other day.
It was still glistening with the faint
Shimmer of that time when he first lent it to me.
I decide to wear it today and try to remember
How it still fitted onto this thick
Wrist of tea-colored skin.
I think it was because I knew
There was something wrong when I
Came back from that sunny Californian place.
Only to come home two days later,
To hear the rainbow bridge I thought would last
Turn into a dark nimbus cloud of something
I denied was desolation.
It's his loss, not mine;
But I clearly feel guilty of myself for believing,
"It wasn't going to happen."
I stand alone, now still dreaming of what was and
Now meant affliction on this fragile
Still-born organ in my chest.
I look at others and tell myself,
"I now don't belong there; my golden road is gone.
Because I'm not happy with myself."
But I'm typically punching mirrors
--I'm not ready to accept the prize of "not negotiable."
The dream that was, now has dried
Up in my inanimate soul but is
Crawling in the daisy scattered dirt to obtain
An artificial resurrection.
I want to kill it.
But at the same time, I dream foolishly for
This silver linked bracelet to magically
Warp me back to the tunnel of lost emotions.
To him again.

I'm not so sure if I should give it back
or keep it tenderly beside this filthy, egoistic heart.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Atmosphere 3 - summa cum laude

Mood: Defective
Sound Waves: Creep by Radiohead

The lost salt gift of blood
-alistar macleod

Come all ye fair and tender ladies
Take warning how you court your men
They're like the stars on a summer's morning
First they'll appear and then they're gone

I wish I were a tiny sparrow
And I had wings and I could fly
I'd fly away to my own true lover
And all he'd ask I would deny

Alas I'm not a tiny sparrow
I have not wings nor can I fly
And on this earth in grief and sorrow
I am bound until I die

All alone as I strayed by the banks of the river
Watching the moonbeams at evening of day
All alone as I wandered I spied a young stranger
Weeping and wailing with many a sigh

Weeping for one who is now lying lonely
Weeping for one who no mortal can save
As the foaming dark waters flow silently past him
Onward they flow over a young girl's grave

Oh my darling come tarry here with me
Don't leave me alone distracted in pain
For as death is the dagger that piled us asunder
Wide is this gulf, love, between you and I.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Atmosphere 2 - Oratorio

Mood: Quiet, thinking
Sound Waves: Uninstall, Chiaki Ishikawa

Solid Note

There are voices everywhere.
Laughing, mocking, trying to make themselves superior.
They sound so happy.
They seem like they have something to look forward to, when they talk.
Different tones
Different stories
And I could only hear what is there:
What is it that they have that I can't see when I talk?
Holding more lift in their voices
When mine floats in an empty course across two meters of ground.
I can't say whether or not they can see the me 
They really want to talk to.
But this doubt is more disturbing me than
Actually coming to say what I can say.
My ears are the ones who gain much more than what this
Dried up leaf-like voice can ever retrieve from simple conversation.
I could only talk to myself.
I can only say what I want to myself.
And I can only doubt whether or not 
I can get out of this self-made glass box,
In order to see the socially made light of being 'there'.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Atmosphere One - Ice Age

Mood: Despairing
Sound Waves: Idioteque, Radiohead

System Error

For the time being, I'm stuck having to plug my conscious away from the 
wary eyes and sounds of content people.
Time goes so slowly.
But it never changes.
I know I'm missing whatever is out there, beyond the sea of sound waves and 
Dysfunctional family trills of chaos and disorder.
"You're useless!
You're hopeless!"
I cannot take action with those kind of motivations.
For a while, it was nice, not to be warmed from the constant worries
And pressured faiths bestowed upon me.
I feel like a king with too much time in his hands
But with just enough of that time not to count his blessings.
"You're crazy!
You're insane!"
The discord of silent remarks make its way, making no mistake
Of making myself a fool of who I really am.
This is me.
No it isn't.
Why ask myself the same rhetorical simplicities, when I don't know how to put it
In proper, acceptable honorifics?
"When are you ever going to try?
When DID you see me try?"
For a while now, even I haven't figured that piece of architecture yet.
Can't I try applying such cosmetics
and try to go around without anyone else knowing
what kind of mask I wear underneath the emotion?
"We only want what's best.
But you must try for once."
I keep the doubt in like a bottle, not ready to set sail 
In a sea of blind justice.
I haven't yet known how to completely open
These dusty-filled eyes
To who I really am.