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)
The poems I write are sad,
So sad and whiney.
It’s because I am sad and I have time.
And no one has stopped me.
No one has yelled at me and said
“EXCUSE ME SIR! BUT YOUR POEMS ARE TERRIBLY DREADFUL.”
How so?
“PATHETIC I MEAN, IT’S A PITY PARTY FOR THREE.”
Me, myself and-
“I, YES NOW YOU SEE. I CAN INSULT YOUR POETRY
BECAUSE I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME.”
I see,
And the easiest criticisms to swallow are mine
So stop me,
Goddamnit someone stop me,
Stop
me,
Stop
me,
And
promises, of mine even easier to break.
And I’m off track.
And repeating like a broken
Here are a few of the titles of poems that are either in progress or are going to be started hopefully within the next month or so. I'm excited for a lot of these, they're going to be good but also rather personal then again most of my poems are (Personal, not good, I'm not that cocky) I know you all have seen me talk about Iron "Lotus" Lung, it's a doozy and it's taking forever and it's already rather long but I need the inspiration and the proper finishing line. That's always the best feeling when you just know that it's the last line of a poem and you finish. Also here's a photo I took and edited. It's of my shadow, I took while my roommate and good friend as well as another good friend and I were filming around our hometown. The first photo is the edited and below that is the original, I took it with my phone so it ain't that good but I like how it turned out anyway. And if you look you can see the pipe in my mouth, I was dressed as a Sea Captain. Yeah....Video to come within the month. Godspeed,
C.B.
They call me “Danger Tom”,
I’m unpredictable they say
I’m dangerous
A loose cannon
On the my Hot Wheels set.
I write love notes on the back of
Animal Cracker boxes
Buried in the mulch,
Not the good stuff
That hardly cut, gives ya splinters kind.
It’s a bitch.
I finger paint on my palms
And put googley eyes
On fake plastic plants.
My mum gives me Adderall
And my dad bad habits.
I put dresses on those
Green.
Plastic.
Army men.
And melt their guns with a magnifying glass.
If I’m good
I get a sip
A sip ‘ah So-Dee-Pawp.
And if you takes a fistful ‘o
Crayons
You get brown.
Robin’s egg is the prettiest.
I put stickers on my table so my parents won’t take it away.I wrote my name, and they still haven’t today.
This is a first...A poem jump started by a random tweet I thought of.
Speaking of which I highly suggest you follow me, or not. It's not particularly interesting.
Though I will start tweet when I post new poems, I realized I have hardly been doing that.
And here's a song by a new found artist who I love now, MIKA.
Is blinding me.
To die drowning.
Might be a gorgeous end.
But not in your commercials
I want no cement grave
I want to be buried among
The fish
And the seaweed
And sunken ships.
Because if I wake up
I’ll just swim back to the top.
But it’s harder to wake
When you’re covered in filth
Muddied water so bright
It’s exhausting
It robs you of that night
But trying to catch up just dumps
More
And more
And more
And more on top of you.
We see it’s strange,
What I thought was a clear light
Clean,
To help rid the ugly
Was more trash
But trash that made me happy.
So I thought
“Do I go back to a dumpster,
Just to think it’s the local pool?”
But the question is
Will I be able to still dive in
Remembering what it is.
Hindsight is key in writing
Because the only thing more permanent than pen
(Which isn’t very permanent to begin with)
Are thoughts.
which can be erased rather easily.
Foresight
Bears a fruit,
Which is sweet
But someone stubborn bites of it
Some covered in trash bites into a piece of fruit.
Think of it like this
When a human is starving
And really starving, not what we call starving
And they have some food, they vomit.
A broken body isn’t used to the sweet.
A broken body shakes the branch
And cuts the arms on thorns that aren’t even there.
Cause c’mon, who’s afraid of a tree?
The trouble with poetry is that it robs you of a good nights sleep and you commit to this insomnia before you even accept the writings.
It's a silly thing though.
But here are two poems, but you'll see I lied to posts ago.
There is no Iron "Lotus" Lung yet.
This one is taking some time...Haven't touched it for a while and it won't be tonight either. Just be patient, we'll see...
This poem started as just title sitting in my word document where I keep all my other poems finished or not. I wrote the title because I loved it and I knew the rest would come eventually, there are a lot of titles waiting for this as well. Unexpectedly the words came and in a medium I would have never expected, though appreciated.
Happy Valentines every one* ! *In the terms of how many people see this blog "every one" = a few friends and according to the stats some Ukrainians.
Here are two sort of appropriate poems, though a lot of my poems have to do with love...most not positive... Isn't that sweet? But I digress, It's been a while so I hope to post two more tonight and another song. Hopefully I'll be able finish Iron "Lotus" Lung tonight, that one has been taking forever...longer than any other poem I've written but I've had a couple turn of events that have inspired me. Another one I'll post is called "Epitome of Epiphany", and that will be revised through the journey from my notebook to word document....In any case enjoy your day/afternoon/evening/night.
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