NINJAS

Hahahaha. This is a t-shirt design I just added to my: http://www.cafepress.com/v_bomb (CaféPress shop). I thought it was kind of funny. Enjoy.

Frost at Dawn

Sometimes I just spill out a bunch of poems, take a hiatus for three months and spill out more. Here's another (work in progress, mind you; I'm really tired and my thoughts aren't altogether cohesive this morning).

I borrowed the title from Coleridge's Frost at Midnight. I am a big fan of the Romantic poets.

Spiny winter frost, sparkling on the sunlit boughs,
Sprinkling the earth at a gust of wind with diamond flecks
That twinkle at a glance like a ring on a maiden's finger.
The shadow of my breath on the snow - and aye, my breath has a shadow this time of year -
Blue and dark in the morning's frail light.
A haze hangs in the air, and the river's breath has a shadow too
As steam rises from the still half-frozen waters.
Ignore the cars, they have no place here among this sugar-coated paradise
That is candy for the eyes and candy for the mind.
The foul exhaust spewing from those crude, ugly machines
Is a frail mockery of the gentle air whispered into the morning sun from the river,
Lifeless and unmoving, hanging in the day like clouds over a mountain.

River Rat

I wrote this poem today after actually witnessing the happenings within the poem. :)


A winter's day, warmer than most,
But by no means warm.
In this forest of twisted metal, where the people are animals,
And the animals are people,
The only paths are the beaten ones.
The sidewalk, straight and narrow, leads me on to my destination,
Taking my hand to prevent my being lost.
I cross the bridge and my eyes wander
To a large chunk of dirt among the snow.
At first glance it seems minute, but then it seems to move.
A new path, thin as a forearm,
Tangles down to the riverbed.
At the top, sitting among the snow is the dirt-pile,
Or, rather, a river rat, fat and dark,
Determinedly going through his task of digging,
Despite the three sets of eyes
Watching behind the cold grey bar.
Down the path he wiggles and into the water he slips,
Silent as death, vibrant as life.
He swims away as I walk on;
No longer a part of nature, all I can do is watch.

I am Alice

This morning I stumbled out my door to head to class. My head was clouded and drowsy as I had awoken merely half an hour beforehand, my acquired sleep last night was less than substantial. I found my mind wandering as usual on this brisk Monday morning; being a Pisces, I find my mind always wanders nonetheless. Treading slowly down the road, I came across the most disturbing interruption of senses that could have been. Parked on the side of the road and running was a very large brown truck, emitting a noise so loud and unpleasant it made my ears hurt. I remember believing it couldn't have been real for some reason, but I pressed on in hope that I would be disturbed no further on my walk. Sadly, another obstacle stood in my way, and I slipped on a sheet of ice frosted with snow. My senses, each and every one, got a jolt from that slip; I have a chronic fear of falling, and my heart stops whenever it happens. I say every sense even though there was no particular taste in my mouth, yet I was almost certain I could taste blood, even with its lack of presence there. I am a paranoid person by nature, and I think that if I am going to slip on ice, I am going to slip face first and knock my teeth out by some semi-miracle. My teeth jagged and some altogether gone, I will cut my lip and blood will pour, like what happened to a friend of mine on the slide in elementary school.

Of course, nothing happened. I slipped a little, my heart stopped. I pressed on.

Being drowsy intices your thoughts to drift elsewhere. Some believe that dwelling on dreams is a useless, trivial activity, yet I disagree. My thoughts led me to dwell last night's dreams, and I came to a realisation.

We are only truly awake when we are dreaming. Foolish as it sounds, it's true. In our dreams we feel the highest sense of emotion; we feel the most passionate bliss and the most harrowing fear. A dream can be discerned from a happy dream to an unhappy dream by a fleeting emotion. A smile can make the whole dream cheerful and wonderful, but a scream can change it to deadly violence. As the mind wanders, so do the emotions.

We are our dreams. Last night, I dreamt that I was Lewis Carroll's Alice from his Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, only I was in the Disney make of the book. I sang with the flowers, lost though I was and a weed though they thought I was. I am Alice. The dream reflected me, what I wanted to do, what I wanted to see. The dream reflected who I was.

We've all had dreams and said "I would NEVER do that!", but doesn't that just tell us more about ourselves? Perhaps you had never really thought about it before. Perhaps you had never even considered the possibility. If you have a dream then awaken with a horrible sense of guilt, you have likely discovered something new about yourself by having the dream. The dream, through your waking, reflects yourself. The cycle is perpetual. You will never have a dream that tells you nothing about yourself.

I am Alice, stuck in my Wonderland of dreams.

EvaMendes

Two posts today, but they will be separate. This one will go first, as it is the shorter of the two; in fact, it's just a drawing. I like posting up anything I can drawing-wise. The better stuff is in my DeviantArt gallery, but here's something I finished today:



That's an avvie art of my good friend EvaMendes from GaiaOnline. I think I did a pretty good job; he's cute. :3

More stuff to follow shortly.

Yo.

Just a short little thing here.

I'm going to be posting random ideas, sketches and writings in here. This is somewhat of an online creative journal for me. Enjoy, I hope. ^_^