A little bit of what I've been listening to lately. It's not that a lot is on my right now but... feels like 2 or 3 half finished ideas and thoughts are just spreading out like spilled milk. No use crying over really but I don't know what it is. I'm shameless about my "clever" thoughts.
Godspeed, C.B.
(Saw Ghostland this past Sunday. One of the best concerts I've been too. It was so much fun, many reccomends.)
I think I’ll be famous.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
I will much dispensary income.
I dream of being rich, you know.
I want nice things, I want access to nice people.
Pretty
people for proper pennies.
Has a nice ring to it.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
I haven’t had much attention lately.
No,
not much at all.
I will not tolerate such ridicule.
No, sir.
I think I’ll be famous.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
Hmmm…
I want people to understand but think I’m mysterious.
Isn’t that sexy? That’s sexy, I hear.
I’ll write and talk in an accent. Isn’t that sexy?
Pretty people for proper pennies.
I want to lose weight and become a
Pretty
person for the proper pennies
And
the proper strive
And
drive
And
ambition
Words
that don’t rhyme
Put
apply
To
the situation.
To be honest
And
simple
No that won’t do
That isn’t very sexy, no not at all.
I think I want all the attention
Can
you own a spotlight?
I think I want all the attention
I know, but thinking makes you seem like a nicer person
Plus
it’s vague and you know how I love that.
That’s sexy, I hear.
Why suffer for my heart when I lie in the lap of luxury?
And forget about my own rules about poetry?
Write
lines like essays and write so sloppily.
(Imaginary)
Day
dreaming I’m the best at everything
And
loved by everyone
Whilst
talking to no one
Because
my own doubts are more fun
Than
a reality of my vanity
On
my vanity is mirror
Obviously
It’s
a vanity
Insanity
I
must suffer for my art.
Because I want to be famous.
and wear nice clothes
And
be called a genius
I
like nice clothes
Cause
then I look nice
Nice
neat nice new clothes.
We all must suffer for my art
I
must be different so different
Ideally
ideals the retreat on opposition
Are
best for the position
Of
a famous, person yes well liked.
Liked by all the people,
No child left behind
I want people to wish they had a mind like mine.
Yes.
That’ll do nicely.
FINALLY.
You happy? Because I am.
Yes, I've finally gotten around to changing the design and cleaning some things up around here and catching up on all the pages etc. etc. etc.
It's not the most triumphant return, I really did want to have some new poems for you guys & gals however I haven't written much lately and what I have written is a bit in the rough and not quite ready for posting... plus I didn't really want to write anything for the sake of having new poems because then it's forced and it ain't no good just like my English.
Though I did post a couple new poems and a song just before posting this so things aren't so bad, ya see?
If you're new to the blog then WELCOME! As far you know nothing has changed at all and it's always been like this. You can go on your merry way, galavanting around the pages like a young bull in a candy china shop.
If you're not new than...things are pretty much the same anyway. New look but all the pages and set up is pretty much the same. I tried experimenting with other dynamic views but they were confusing and not user friendly at all.
You might noticed I have deleted some of the posts. If you're wondering where my one little essay on the "Free Arsons" went, I moved it to the 'Other Writing' page and all the songs that were included in that are under the music page. It's all still here so no worries.
In other news; the "Poetry" and "Music" pages are both caught up and are up to date with everything I've written or posted.
In other other news: I would seriously love some feedback on the new design and just the design in general. If the pages or font are hard to read, the pages and set up are all cattywampus, links are working etc. etc. etc. please let me know either in a comment or via twitter or email! (The 'Contact Me' page is also up to date since I have changed my twitter name)
*This is a lot of reading I know but quit whining. You came to poetry and writing blog so...yeah.*
Along the lines of design stuff THE BACKGROUND.
Because I have a very wide screened laptop what I see in the blog and what you see are probably a little bit different. Therefore I would like to know if everything still looks alright on your end. On the background there should be "The House On Ridge Road" text on the left and in the upper right hand corner of the screen is "Writing & Poetry by C.B.".
Please let me know if you can or cannot see these. Now I can't change it for everyone's dimensions but if it's really messed up I'll try and see what I can do.
*GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSPPPPPP*
Seriously, thanks for at least reading this far. You're awesome and thanks for coming to my blog. Please read and be merry. I'll also accept praise along with those criticisms just f.y.i. because I don't want it to be all rain clouds over here.
Thank you muchly. I will be back with more poems and videos hopefully now that everything is sorted out. You're awesome sauce with a cherry on top and as always
Godspeed,
C.B. Here's some shweet music to brighten your night/day:
Smell of gasoline,
They cover me.
That’s obvious and when I rhyme
I’m
thinking of songs
A
beat that keeps my mind on one thing
Not
you, or the past or my social faux pas
Or
the failures in things,
Or
the color of eyes and feel of skin
Or
I miss it.
Sobering up would be a lot easier
If
I had ever even been drunk
Which
would be nice if I had no scruples
Can I have those?
Am I allowed while I’m living this life
Where
it bothers me if I even have a thought
Of
the thoughts that don’t exist that someone might
Have
about me or my friends or my hair or my clothes?
Vanity.
I don’t know when I started caring so much about so little.
You know we used to be naked.
Fodder
I’d rather be somewhere else
Since
home is going to be just a firing squad.
Friends
turned to enemies
And
enemies stay the same.
How to save my mind & friendships with one fell talk?
I can’t be myself anymore.
I plot my escape and return.
When
I predict how you’ll react
I
play out fantastic nightmares in my own head.
Vanity,
Pride,
something.
Can’t
tell if I’ve changed or all of us have.
I wish I could be straight forward.
More honest.
I’ve forgotten what a real friend is.
But I remember how to avoid them.
My anger rises,
Days
I think I’m going to lose it
And
other days I just think the same quieter.
Stagnant people
Strangling
me
With
jokes that aren’t funny
Times
together when I feel like running
Cause
these days we all need to something to aim at
More
metaphors? So many, hand me the ipecac.
Cannon fodder for an igniting hatred.
See
aren’t we having fun? We are
Now what is my mind doing?
Ruining with this vanity.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
