last drop in: sept 16th 2008
i've written heaps of random crap through the years,
from poems to stories to songs. here's a taste, hope you like it :)
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Imogens sits in her box
Imogen sits in her box
Imagining the noise
that never lived amidst her silence
Like bees
the world buzzes in circles around her
too fast to accompany with her virgin smile
She doesn't want to give them
more than she has to give
It would have no meaning
The right word
is crucial
Imogen sits in her box
Wondering what the rush is
She laughs at the irony of their hurried ways
They're going in circles.
Like a horse race.
So where's the meaning?
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To hold
You can't even hear the sandman's howl
As he dwells beneath our rich feet
And envies and despises our freedom.
Through our minds he feeds upon our lovely pearls
And watches us throw away what he ever really wanted.
Our eyes seem pleasured
And our hands filled with jewels
Dangling above him,
What he can never have.
But when we lose it,
He watches us dig
Selfishly and pathetically
As it sinks through the sand.
Our tears vanish quickly on the hot surface
Nervous and lost
Our precious jewels are gone
And we are forever without.
The sandman smiles.
The ecstasy of his simplicity.
To hold is; not to hold.
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She Walks the Plank
There is a point that one reaches
in his or her life
where you have to force yourself
to walk the plank and let yourself fall
into unknown waters
Perhaps frightened,
but not without confidence.
Knowing your weaknesses can be scary
and so self-destructive
because it means that you set your standards
to the level of your weaknesses.
Reach into your memory, however near or far,
locate a moment of greatness.
This is where your self-standard shall be.
Walking the plank of the unknown
can be the magical mystery to raise you
from your depression,
and fly you into an ocean of pride and victory.
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~ annikenw ~
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