Monday, 6 December 2004

Unconscious Mutterings
Linkety

1. Delightful: spiteful
   
2. Impact: compact
   
3. Consolation: desolation
   
4. Donation: tribute
   
5. Blue moon: standing alone
   
6. Grinner: sinner
   
7. Smoker: joker
   
8. Muse: fuse
   
9. Tweet: cheat
   
10. Guitar: twang
    

~ posted by Anna @ 8:49 am
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Friday, 3 December 2004

Broken Again
Another carefully crafted,
Beloved pendant
Has suddenly committed swift suicide;
Taken the plunge from my neck to the unyielding bathroom tiles.
Stubborn jewellery seems to be my lot in life.
I don't see
How it's necessary
To make such a display,
You kamikaze fluorite
In all my favourite colours...
I did not mean to use or abuse you
In selfish human fashion...
Even if you hate me so -
Must you always destroy yourself
In getting away from me?

~ posted by Anna @ 10:55 pm
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Thursday, 2 December 2004

Goodnight.
A moment before I opened this laptop just now, I glimpsed some pretty nighttime shadow-art on the wall. It seems so much simpler and less demanding than my thoughts right now. All my feelings these days seem to get transferred into my intellect, and hence chewed up into inscrutable bits. That being said, a few small poems are making it through the gates. The following one was the least scratched and bruised along the way... it seems to run more smoothly. Though it's not about a happy subject.

(Bah! see what I mean about over-thinking things? Why can't I just give you the poem without all this crappy preamble?!)

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If I could live in a world of women,
Would I still dream nightmares of men?
Mayhap I've lived such things before;
That was now and this is then...

It only goes to show the truth -
That I can't have one but I must have both.

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I suppose the fact that I'm currently scrambling my way out of a months-long rut of poemlessness means that these new wee scratchings are bound to be riddled with question marks. A strong sense of confusion and uncertainty.

With regards to the above: I keep asking the goddess to give me good, useful, pleasant dreams. I sometimes think she's not listening at all. Other times I think she's too busy. And yet other times I admit she must have better ideas for me; that there's some point to my having icky dreams... but I'm damned if I know the reasons, and I'm not enjoying them. (You hear me, Lady?!)

~ posted by Anna @ 11:00 pm
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