Subject To Change

“Everything changes, nothing remains without change.” Buddha

Archive for March 2009

.”We All Have These Moments”

with 9 comments

“We all have these moments”, I’ve been thinking about those words for a while since I read a comment on my previous post. Normally I’d reply “no, we don’t” in an attempt to seperate myself from everyone else, but, I can’t be bothered doing that anymore. Sure, we all have these moments, but does it help?

Does the fact that other people too experience the same thing as you provide any real comfort? It doesn’t for me. It somehow devalues it, makes it seem unworthy of any effort to get out of feeling that way. Suddenly, my “struggle”, seems childish and… insignificant. I could use more-fitting words, but my mind’s not in the right state right now to be looking for them.

Maybe we do. Yeah, you’re right, we all probably do. This post is pointless, but I had to get that out. Just a thought, but yeah. Anyways.

There’s a strange comfort that comes out of dreaming your own death. I use the word “dream” intentionally, because I don’t mean a nightmare. When fear, anxiety and regret fill up my body and mind, I often imagine jumping off the second/third floor/roof. And the thought calms me down. Does that make me suicidal? I don’t know. I don’t care. All I know is I’m calm, and I’m glad. Just hope it lasts.

I also imagined that before I jumped I would write a long blog post, and it would end with this song:

Cold Contagious by Bush (lyrics)


Written by *

March 31, 2009 at 12:37 am

.Miss Interpret

with 2 comments

“Talk”, you say,
But my throat is gagged.
By what?
I wonder

“You talk”, I retort,
But we know who’s the audience here
“I’m here to talk to you”,
I’m glad, but it’s something I can’t do.

Am I at fault?
Who is to blame?
My tongue shrivels up as I hear your name.

I have spoken volumes, though,
you may not have understood.
Maybe with an ear to the ground,
You’d have heard the hooves.

Do you not understand
This simple metaphor
Or are you too blind to see?
Deaf to the cries from the underground
Numb to the crack of the whip

I am still here
You know, you can feel me
As much as you feel a distance
The door is always open

Where do you want me to lie?
In the darkness or in the light?
You say I have walked out the door
Why don’t you take a step out of yours?

We could both relish the sun
Wherever on Earth we’re spun
It’s only a matter of time
Be patient, the time will come.

Note: this poem is subject to change

Written by *

March 26, 2009 at 10:20 pm

.dot dot dot

with 11 comments

I’ve let this blog become too impersonal. At times I feel like I’ve lost the ability to rant carelessly, about anything that I feel like, regardless of the outcome. Have I lost my voice? Or has my voice lost me? Is it still around lingering somewhere, maybe between the lines of my poetry, or the crack of my ass. (I don’t know where that came from. Strange thought. Hehe)

I feel good even though I’m lonely as hell. I sign onto msn almost always on appear offline, and I just don’t feel like saying hi to anyone. My display name is no longer St.Fallen, it’s just simply my name. For 3 years or so it used to be St.Fallen. It’s even on my bag, and even though the straps are coming off, I still use that damn bag. I feel attached to it strangely, I never take it off. When I sit down it’s on my lap, I hardly ever take it off.

Apparently I’ve changed. I’m not St.Fallen anymore according to some. I guess they’re right. When I had to delete my old blog, I realized there were a lot of problems with who I was, or rather… who St.Fallen was.
He didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, he just did them. He wrote a poem for a random woman on a bus and then gave it to her, I can’t even imagine doing that now.

I spend most of my day at college in the library, and the rest in class. I used to run around and carry a guitar, playing whatever and whenever I felt like. I barely touch it now, and even when I do I ask myself, what should I play?

I’m forgetting my songs, I’m forgetting them all. I’m forgetting myself, I’m forgetting you all. I feel so alone, without myself to cling on. I feel like just an ember of a fire that’s been doused. I feel like I could disappear, and fail to leave my mark. I feel like I have lost myself. I feel, at least I still.

Written by *

March 21, 2009 at 12:28 am


with 3 comments

So what are we, you and I?
Warriors? Or are we voyeurs?
So we blog – are we unlike beggars?
All you “patriots” do nothing but parrot
And self-proclaimed pacifists, rather passive-fists

Unclench your fist – the one that’s raised in the air
Take down those flags you wave here and there
Let go – the soil that you rightfully claim
For it is their blood that’s split, all in your name

For God or for Country
For Love or for Pride
For Freedom or Power
Who are You to decide?

Who walks the front line?
Who stretches the thin?
Who etches in the sand
The battle that’s within?

Set aside the differences
And what do you see?
Or is your sight dependant
On telling in-between?

Is it all compare and contrast?
Or is it just cause and effect?
Are we all this nations children
Or the subject of neglect?

So do you fight for your future,
or cry of your past?
Do you live in the present?
Or hide behind a mask?

So when do we stand alone
before a higher force?
And when do we forget the norms
and head straight for the source?

Now I am working my way, from the sea to the rivers,
Meandering along the many streams and divisions,
’til in the end I reach the spring, where it all began
Only then to realize – none of this was planned

There is no divine
Only a very fine line
Between You and I

But who lies above
And who sits below?
Am I the denominator?
– am I Zero?

If You are the infinite
Then I am none
I will divide You
’til we are nothing
But One.



Thanks to TheWhackster for helping me edit (or “tweak”) this enough to post.
Really appreciate it. Please click on the link and give him some lovin’
Even if you didn’t like or understand the poem. (Jerry, that’s you).

Written by *

March 10, 2009 at 9:00 am


with 8 comments

is all I am

In the midst of all the waves and vibrations
Within the center yet without location
Little specks of black and white unwanted

Ridiculous resonance unlike sparkling water
Unearthy tones hummed by the finger
Round and round the crystal glass

Care to filter?
– Normalize demeanor
Graphically equalize
– Posture and figure?

Caught against the meshwork
A residue I become
Trained to be strained
Back to square one

All I am is noise

Written by *

March 8, 2009 at 5:07 am


with 2 comments

I can’t speak
I need to scream
and tear apart the veils of this dream
splitting through the seams
draw on the curtains
what I think lies behind
an image
a vision
or just a thin line.
by zero
will never
be defined
and I
will always
and forever
be blind.

Written by *

March 2, 2009 at 9:57 pm