So i've been thinking, it seems lately i haven't been writing anything in a narrative manner. I would like to avoid the abstract, poetic language I've been using. Not forever, mind you, just to make sure I can still write as I think. I need to sharpen my writing tools in order to develop myself further as a writer. I don't even really know why i want to write anymore. It used to be fairly easy, but now it seems like i can never write about what i want to write about. i start off with a theme in mind, and i digress, try to rhyme, or just run out of things to say too quickly. perhaps if I told a story.

there was a monkey that lived in a grand forest. The monkey lived a life of blissful ignorance, feeding his needs as he saw fit. One day, the monkey met a panther. The panther was ferocious, and mauled the monkey. The monkey was filled with anger. but, as the monkey lay bleeding on the ground, he realized that that the panther had done to him only what he had done to the forest. The monkey had taken what he needed, and left the forest to die. This thought offered little solace as the light in the monkey's eyes dimmed forever.

That was a quick and odd story, but it works for me. Maybe I'm just too tired to care, but either way, i shall go to sleep.

understanding

In a world of shit,
this can't be it.
I remember fun,
and the light of the sun.

Too long i have wallowed in my indecision.
Waiting for something, a sign or a vision.
Have I known all along, what i'm to be.
A clown on a stick, for all to see.

No wonder i stall, and try to delay.
Try not to think, try not to say,
The jester's no fool, for he understands.
Though some may lead, no one commands.

Monkey see, monkey do,
make 'em laugh, and you'll laugh too.
The true humour is just, for you to see,
they don't understand, or is that me....

Am i apart, or am I a part.
Is anything real, don't even start.
There is no true answer, there is no false.
Just have to assume, 'cuz you've got a pulse.

drowning in a dream

stop it.
shut up.
you need a drink.
or a slap in the face.
just shutup and think!
you stupid fuck.

Talk talk talk,
that's all you ever do.
You never listen, 'til it's too late.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
just shut the fuck up, for both our sakes.

You've got nothing to say,
kill yourself the bill hicks way,
ranting and pointing,
and coughing thru tears.
Get over yourself,
and get on in your years.

path-etic

What path am I on?
Am i even moving?
Am i at the crossroads, or am i at the end of the road...

I am what i am
what more could i be,
i react to what i think,
what i feel what i see.

I try to offer kind words,
but they scrape on my tongue,
i try to catch my breath,
but i've got the black lung.

I am painfully honest,
I am doubtful and meek,
i feel bad for persuing,
the things that i seek.

guilty by conscience,
innocent by deed.
monkey by nature,
at least i can read.

killing me slowly,
with sweet blissful ease.
my favourite hobby,
is my dark disease.

inept

Am i my own chaperone?
What the fuck is wrong with me.
I went on something close enough to a date,
and nothing, not even a goodnight kiss.
But do I deserve it?
Maybe she is playing hard to get.
I hope so, that's cool, keep me entertained longer.
Cuz if not, I'm just a fool.
just a fool

drop

I talk to much with nothing to say. Once everyone's up to speed, where do we go?
Race further? Talk faster? The words have run out. Well, that's not true, there is more, but there's doubt. I've said all my sane, but i can't let you IN-. I'm afraid more that I'm right than I'm wrong. My extreme ideas don't seem to belong in any conversation, that I've already had.

So where do they go, these ideas that flow. Best left unsaid, they rot in my head. The ideas grow stranger, even to me. Am I a person, or am I a tree? I've lost my self, but i don't know if I want me back. Maybe the new guy is on the right track. Forward I go, into the great unknown. Feel the abyss, watch the plot twist. The sky is an ocean, is there something i missed?

I am angry

I am a volcano,
Threatening to obliterate anything within my grasp.
I dream of the day when i rain fire down on you.

I am the mute,
Shouting silently at those that point and laugh.
I'd rather be silent then sound like them.

I am a tree,
Rife with disease, my limbs weaken.
The breaking point is near.

Everything

it's like everything happens for a reason or something!
crazy eh?the way the radio always knows what song to play when it matters most, when you're actually listening. or how people always say the weird thing that was almost what you were thinking. maybe it's just precognition through altered states. maybe your mind ceases, and you simply are aware of your surroundings instantaneously. then the adrenaline kicks in, cleans out the drugs, and you can interact again. maybe it was all a dream....