Sept 18, 2003


Veritas Sola. "The Truth only."

The following piece was written in French originally, but I have
added a translated version below.

Title: Mer Morte

Suelement le soleil.
Mais maintenant la mer est allée de moi.
Peut-être je suis mort sur l'intérieur,
Peut-être je vuex juste ce que je ne puex pas avoir.
Je puex voir le soleil parfois,
Mais la lune est toujours plus lumineuse.
Pour moi, je veux seulement,
Une réponse ou une raison.

Translation for those who don't speak/read French:

Title: "Dead Sea"

"Only the sun.
But now the sea is gone from me.
Maybe I am dead on the inside,
Maybe I just want what I cannot have.
I can see the sun sometimes,
But the moon is always brighter.
For me, I only want
An answer or a reason."



Untitled:

People are afraid of silence.  It allows us to be alone with ourselves
and we know the "miser" (French, loosely translated as "wretchedness") which lies
beneath our polished surfaces, so we avoid silences.  Silece with friends
is often the best comfort one can find.  Being held by some blue eyes is the most
consolation I've found in a long time.




	22 Sept 2003


Title: Bleeding Heart

The acrid taste of blood in my mouth
Is almost as bad as the wind stinging in my eyes,
Forcing the tears to fall down.
Bitter and broken they lay on the ground
Like so many fallen stars.
Your forked-tongue messages
Electrocuting my brain
Force me to run toward the fence.
I scream to drown out your words;
I cry bitter glass to fracture your face;
I drive nails into my skin to make me dull to your touch,
But I can't get you out of my mind,
So I bite my lip.
The acrid taste of blood in my mouth
Reminds me of how much I want you.



Title: Spontaneous Composure

Don't fuck with me now, I'm tired of games.
You know in my heart, burns the hotest of flames.
So why do you now give me nothing but grief,
When all I want is in your arms held, relief?

From where do you come, to think that you can,
Screw me around as if I were a boy, not a man?
I have naught but love for you, plainly for all to see,
So why do you not just give over to me?

You talk like you want me, but say you're not sure,
You think that I'm great, like ocean and shore.
So what holds you back, so stronly that you,
Can't love me back, or admit that you knew?

I'm here for you now, you know that I am,
Big as a bear, but as gentle as lamb.
All I've asked for was but moments relief,
But all you've given me is nothing but grief.

Cynical and sarcastic, we are.
For been to the reaches of Hell, near and far.
So if we're so grande, and both have paid the fee,
Then how come I love you, but you say it's not me?




	23 Sept 2003

Title: Reconciled Life
	Life is an interesting thing indeed.  As people are born, others are dying.
As people laugh, others are crying.  As people fall in love, others divorce.  As people
are gentle, others use force.  So what gives this all meaning?  Philosophers have
considered this question for centuries upon centuries.