The news of today : A thunderstorm is hitting in Boulder County, hitting it, hard.

There is no style, but they all say "well done."

"But somebody's got to make it !" she screams
"So why, why can't it be me ?"
But she would die if we heard her sing from the heart
Which is hurt

There is a different mood all over the world
A different voice, unfamiliar views
And dearest, it could all be for you
So will you come down and I'll meet you?
And with no more poems, with nothing to hear
Oh darling, it's all for you...
Oh, deep in my heart, how I want to be wrong

But the moods and the styles too frequently change

The efforts are wasted on me.

If there is one thing in life I've observed, it's that reason and freedom are wasted on me.

I burned, it was bright and all anyone could do was wonder why.

No meaning or control and no where left to go

Burn bright while they can only wonder why.

Boundary. The pin lodged in the cushion.

What else could I do?
There.
I furthered a theory.
Why live in the world when you can live in your head?
There's nothing to do so you just stay in bed,
oh poor thing,
why live in the world when you can live in your head?
when you can go out late from Monday,till Saturday turns into Sunday,
and now you're back here at Monday,
so we can do it all over again.
And you go "I want a refund,
I want a reason,
to make it through the night, alright?"
And so you finally left school,
so now what are you going to do?
Now you're so grown up,
ya, you're oh so mature.
Going out late from Monday, lying in the street on Sunday,
you don't want to live till Monday,and have to do it all again.
I want a reason for all this night after night after night after night.
Oh I know that it's stupid but,
I just can't seem to spend a night at home,
cause my friends left town,and I'm here all alone ...ow.
Oh ya they say the past must die for the future to be born,in that case die, die - ow.
Stomach in,
chest out,
on your marks,
get set,
go.
Now, now that you're free,what are you going to be?
And who are you going to see?
And where, where will you go?
And who, who, are you going to see?
And how will you know,
You didn't get it all wrong?
Is this the light of a new day dawning?
A future bright that you can walk in?
No it's just another Monday morning.
Why live in the world when you can live your head?
Ow. I've forgotten how that works. Ow.



I've fallen out of bed.

Yellow - Red. Mean red. Mean red.

I did, but I didn't, I don't, oh, but I do.
Please, it is an awful idea to push me.
Whatever happens, it will happen.
I sat back, I didn't let it seep into me.
To worry is to waste my time.
It went away on its own.
Do you like my smile, the one that I paste on?
I lost it.
Who am I that I come to be standing here?
As I live and breathe
You have killed me
Yes, I walk around somehow
But you have killed me

Last night I had a minor altercation

It rose to a be a dangerous situation.

Some passersby took me to my car.

And I died in the trunk.

But I'll be back to haunt them.

They smother girls for no particular reason.



Build yourself a castle

Keep your mind safe from harm

Get into softer music

Raise rabbits on a farm

And wouldn't it be nice

for all the world to live in peace?

And no-one gets ill or ever dies

or dies of boredom at the very least

And people tell me

what a real nice guy you are

So come on, serenade me

on your acoustic guitar

And don't believe me

And the things I claim

cause given half the chance

I know that I will kill again

I just came to tell you that I'm going.

I would ride out the nightmare ...

Sparks are circling around my head.
Riding into unknown territories, I continue to trot.
Everything passes quickly.
Dazed and confused, I wander from resting place to resting place.
Then finally, I conquer it all.
What makes it complete?
I say I'm heading home.
I want to stay and see all the people and the things they'll do.
But you see it's written on my dashboard, a little note from the one I love, and it tells me to go home.
I don't care what you're doing.
We want to go home.
At least there is someone there to talk to.
And I never have to face up to the darkest grays alone.
I can't remember a worse time, then the time I saved it all for someone who gave it away.
Do you remember?
I can't remember a worse time.
I don't believe in constraints.
I just believe in ..n...e
Fine.
And then in thirty seconds : I found out that she was funny.
Let's head up to the rafters, and I have something secret that I simply have to share with you.
Please don't leave it up to me.
I have no power.
I can't make decisions.
Especially for other people.
Leave me be.
Sing along and dance with me.
The stupid things I do are magical.
Everybody hates a tourist.
They burn bright and all there is to do is wonder why.
Never live like such as I.
There's only so much more I can do.

Skull faced.
Skin barely hanging on bones.
Cold hearted.


I want to be a different person everyday!
It is fun that way, I know, I do, trust me, ... until they mold together into a unified monster.

My name is Kerrie, it will always be my name. I will always be. I will always be the way I am, and I won't adjust on command.
Feel free to snap away, snap, snap.

The finest day that I ever had was when I learned to smile on command. And I can trick my eyes into saying things that they don't mean. Yes, it's mean.

A lot like Halloween

Costumes. Gray Areas.

Whatever happened before, isn't happening now.
Now changes all of time.
I'd rather be enclosed in a shining prism, contained in a glittering world.
She lies, lies to me.

It is graveyard, deeply tucked into wooded landscape.
The air stays in the same place.
There is a dangling fog here and there, barely enough to be lost in, but it clouds her judgement all the same.
Nothing living ever walks around here.
There isn't any point, really.




I wish I would finally say what I mean in a plain and obvious way. I can, but I won't.
This feels like lying. I would very much like to tie all of the little pieces together and then there would be a nice little completed structure. It is all there, the reader needs to connect the dots.... I won't do it myself, it would be giving too much away at once, and I don't have much of anything left, for anyone.

My Dystopia

Public Representation and Advertising

The cycle continues, ruthlessly preying on mankind's escapist tendencies and seizing upon several deep-seated self-destructive impulses.

It's a perfect, wholesome snack for any time of the day," the voice eagerly announces, while the image of a young child—himself a physical representation of purity—tempts viewers with the prospect of recapturing their long-lost sense of innocence. "Fig Newtons are ooey-gooey great!"
"Go on, you deserve it!" the psychologically manipulative onslaught persists, at once addressing, encouraging, and currying feelings of inferiority and self-doubt that are a mainstay of the human condition.

The victim, who is reflexively averse to change, is governed by prejudice and assumption, blindly trusts authority, believes in retribution, desires reassurance, is guilty of envy, lies to avoid hurtful truths, and suffers from separation and alienation anxiety, declares "Now I have to go buy some!"

Do you find me to be strange?

Come along, let us continue, I'll guide you.

It is blatantly obvious someone has become a bit self-indulgent.

Pausing for an applause that never comes.

I came down from the sky, on a giant cosmic spiral staircase

Under droplets with her curled up hind legs tucked under, she wishes to lay down, but the ground is too wet and not very inviting.

The dove gray clouds, which aren't moving, are set so low to the ground, they are removed from the night sky, but that doesn't necessarily mean they are separate.

She said:

"Are you sure? Would you like to see what I see? But you won't understand, so just smile and hold my hand. What else could you do? I don't know why, but it had to start up again somewhere. And I love all of the stupid things that you do. It's a 'rough trade.' I love all of the common people."

"When you're laying in bed at night, If you called, you could stop and end it all."

"You'll never let your life slide out of view, just because there is nothing else to do."

Laughing along can make a person the joke.

Te he! haha.

And it will get to me.

I thought it would be a good idea to let everyone know that I don't want to talk anymore.

The movement of my mouth, uttering word after word, is excruciatingly painful.

I have a hunch that I make people happiest when I am sad; I am grateful that I can amuse so many people, from so many walks of life.

And this is my sense of humor, don't take anything seriously.

There is no "little truth" in any of my jokes.

Rusty hinges, I tried to say I wouldn't be there....much too slow.

What is there to wait for?

I am worn from continual alterations.

Put all the things, which weigh so heavy....down. Make sure that I am securely placed beneath them. I finally lay down, crushed, under all that has been amassed. I'm even lower.

But that isn't meant to be a sad thing. I am happy there, and that is the sad part.

The princess is in exile. This time it is not self imposed and this is the first time it has ever been the case.

And she didn't understand, so she just smiled and took my hand.

Beads, and the center of the universe, the core of the earth,

Beads are everywhere. They are either shiny and narrow, or dull and wide. Either way, I've lost all interest in putting them together. Kerrie

Slowly aligned, without a guiding hand Me

My thoughts never build a structure. They are just little pieces, fragments. I

It makes sense to me, sometimes certain people know what the things I say mean, because it applies to them, sometimes only I know the order. And I guess I don't make my meaning obvious because I always have something that I need to keep to myself. There is always something that isn't allowed to crawl out into the light of day. There was a time when every part of me was exposed, and I wasn't happy, and people who have known me my whole life were disappointed with me, because I wasn't acting like myself. I shall refrain for awhile from letting anything out, as it breeds confusion. I have been repeatedly misrepresented, the one who has carried out the misrepresentation is ....me. The fault is mine. I am flighty, I get carried away and easily influenced. Me
I think too much and I'm tired. Myself
The world is a vaccuum. I

Kittens are cute, but a full grown cat can be cuter

There is a such a thing in life as the slowest of time, and that's where I live, that's where this song comes from.

In the days when I was hopelessly bored, I discussed it more.

Stuck like tissues to a paper mache doll.

I had a funny feeling.

My veins were as coarse as sand.

My body was still.

This was in opposition to my head which spun, drifted, and shook.

The glowing energy was constantly, smoothly, flowing.

Hold still, I told you!

But you moved.

I can't find you.

It should be apparent that I disapprove of verse/chorus/verse.

The River's Edge

I have already waited too long.

Highlighting a "headlong rush towards doom"

I need a piece to do it.

I need only to make it through it.

I hear a heartbeat, and it isn't mine. But the rythmn makes my fingers shine.

Today is the same as yesterday, a never ending succession of saying goodbye.

It looks and sounds a little bad, but I can't even think of anything clever to say.

So I'll say that the night has grown longer, as the day has darker.

Everything I always wanted.

One last time.

All the things I thought I had

I didn't

I am tired of the sound of my own voice

Combined and brewed

Young girl, one day you will be old

A boy is stabbed and his money is grabbed.

The air is hangs heavy like a dulling wine

Though I walked home alone,

My faith in love is still devout

Then someone falls in love

Someones beaten up

The senses being dulled are mine

This is last night for this pair

She said how quickly would I die if I jumped from the top of the chute?

Scratch my name on your arm with a fountain pen

Aligned this way, and that way

You, if you found me by your side

Not this time

Whenever I'm alone with you

I feel like I am home again

I feel I am whole again

Crushed

Not this time

However fay away,

However long I stay, whatever words I say, - ---- ------ ---- --- ----

I looked behind and I shrieked

I am afraid of my shadow

I miss it so

I was right, you were wrong

I cannot say

Walk on

With hope in your heat, and you'll never walk alone.

Gone through the rain.

Though your dreams be trite and old.

Walk on with hope in out-stretched hands.

What a pretty, lovely, ground upon which to walk.

Rattling pieces....never a whole picure, only fragments... What a pretty sight. Only let in a little.

Into a fury, a tizzy, dizzy, blanket of sunshine.

Pulp's Jarvis Cocker, and Camille Bidault-Waddington.
He's a lot like Morrissey, but he is a little more interested in women, and his wife is a fashion designer. He's my new thing.

"So like the Roman Empire fell away
Let me tell you; we are going the same way
Ah, behold the Decline and Fall
All hold hands with our backs to the wall
It's the end:Why don't you admit it?It's the same from Auschwitz to Ipswich
Evil comes I know from not where
But if you take a look inside yourself -maybe you'll find some in there
Not one single soul was saved
I was ordering an Indian takeaway
I was spared whilst others went to an early grave
Oh, got stoned
Yeah, went out and got stoned
Well if your ancestors could see you standing there
They would gaze in wonder at your Frigidaire
They had to fight just to survive
So can't you do something with your life?"
- From Auschwitz to Ipswich
Jarvis Cocker

The beckoning finger of fate.
We can't help it.
When you are young, you crave affection, and it can come from the strangest direction.
Nothing's changed.
Only slightly.
I continue to drift.
He broke my knees, and he really laid into me.
The pain was enough for a shy, bald, Buddhist to reflect and plan a mass murder.
I can play all the grown up games.

-Set to music, the kind which surrounds me constantly-

Once
Once, once when, once,
See if I care, see if I care, see if I care, see if I care, I do.
If you don't like me, don't look at me, there must be somebody else who can take your gaze from me.
Run, run, run, run.
I've seen how you care, I've seen how you are.
If you don't want to, then stay away, If you don't mind to, then stay away.
Flailing wildly, I mistaked that feeling for the same
that I had been hanging around with long ago.
See if I care, see if I care, see if I care, see if I care, see if I care.
If you don't like me, don't speak to me, there must be somebody else who can't take their mind off of me.
Just fall and I won't feel the same, that's all.
Run, run, see if I care, see if I care
Once, once when, once when I learned the way to care
There must be something else to carry me away.
Don't fall or I won't ever feel that way again.
la la la la I La Lu .

- Myself

In other news, Techno is dead.

Radiohead's Thom Yorke has proclaimed that all music produced electronically is dead and he has abandoned it. He is forming a new group, so new it has no name :

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/thom-and-flea-rocks-odd-couple-1799632.html

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow. My horizons are narrow.

The Logical Machine

Salvador Dali has been one my favorite artists for as long as I can remember, and I remember looking through a book of his work when i was eight. Expressions of beauty do not have to be "appropriate." I'm not interested in a personal definition.

A comma here a comma there.

The difference it made was great.

Layers of wind, all from the same place, hit the leaves with varying degrees of pressure.

A dangling string is smothered in glue. It catches and pulls me with an overwhelming stress into the glistening erosion.

Simplicity, I refuse it, I am not alone, I am the same as everyone else. We are creatures of layered complexity. To make the bold and false statement that everything is cut and dry, or capable of being simply stated, or worse yet, "black and white," is to deny the intricate beauty which we cannot understand. I know nothing, but I find beauty within the sublime concepts that I do understand, and they lead me to an inkling of the transcendent.

The reader is the author; the author is the reader.

Human relations.

Pasolini, I shall always be.

See if I care, See if I care. If you don't mind, I'll slip out the back way. If you don't want me, you don't have to have me. There must be somebody else to go about it another way. I thought you might feel the same way, that's all.

This is what I am made of...there is nothing I am afraid of. I will die with both of my hands untied.


Heaven vs. Paradiso
Never confuse these two contrasting dreams.


It was all down hill from Baroque.

Logic is dead.

Art is dead.

Pragmatism is born.

Modernity.

"All hail simplicity"- ignore the mystical.

Let us capture images of nature - "Look how accurately this painting depicts nature." - ignore the mystical.


Nature is lovely and alluring, but it remains a representation of entrapment to me.

Plain brown portraits take over.

The natural beauty of the human form.... the realist school....gross.

In my own unlearned opinion, there are two types of art, ones which elevate the common, and ones which lower the sacred to our own banal level.

Excuse me, my thought process may change slightly from here on out, as I am on my fourth cup of coffee, and I am taking a break to clip out fashion ads for my project on "Fuchsia- and it's impact on fall jackets trends." I will proceed to feel lackadaisical while doing so...(I am taking the easy way.)

One, two, three, forget it.



I know it's serious.... Girlfriend in a coma....


“Plainness has its peculiar temptations quite as much as beauty.”- T.S. Eliot ....I find the work of T.S. Eliot to be extraordinarily distasteful. I have a severe desire to tear this apart, but I shall refrain, but this what I am talking about. There is no beauty in modern life.

"The virtue of plainness and ugliness." “If two things don't fit, but you believe both of them, thinking that somewhere, hidden, there must be a third thing that connects them, that's credulity” - Umberto Eco

Run, run, run, run, forget yourself in the motion of limbs, progress, industry, forget me.

Status Quo.

The disappearance of the individual.

The will, the will is not raw. There is another part of us which is beyond not only the cognitive, but beyond the will. The will is directed by the cognitive to a certain degree. Our wills our influenced by our perceptions. "The Trimuph of the Will"...I don't mean to be racist in any way...but, hey, once again, thanks Germany, for yet another twisted philsophical ideal.

Unity, Power: The death of the individual.


"Words are but symbols for the relations of things to one another and to us; nowhere do they touch upon absolute truth. ... Thus it is, today, after Kant, an audacious ignorance if here and there, especially among badly informed theologians who like to play philosopher, the task of philosophy is represented as being quite certainly "comprehending the Absolute with the consciousness", somewhat completely in the form "the Absolute is already present, how could it be sought somewhere else?" as Hegel has expressed it." -Nietzsche critizing Hegel...but I can't decide who I dislike more profusely...

There are two birds on a tree, one eats the fruit of the tree, while the other looks on. Which bird is me? Duality. I am looking into a reflection of a reflection which goes on infinitely.

Run, run, run, run, through the glen.
See if I care, see if I care, I wouldn't, I won't.

Memorized prayers having the similar effect of a mantra (an abandonment of yourself having God as your sole focus.). I see nothing wrong with this.

Logos.

April 5 2005, Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) referred to the Christian religion as the religion of the Logos:

"I will write my law on their hearts." St. Justin wrote that those who have not accepted Christ but follow the moral law of their hearts (logos) follow God, because it is God who has written the moral law in each person's heart. Though man may not explicitly recognize God, he has the spirit of Christ if he follows Jesus' moral laws, written in his heart.


The Dark Night Of The Soul
Saint John of the Cross


Songs of the soul rejoicing at having achieved the high state of perfection, the Union with God, by way of spiritual negation.


Under the dark of night,

Demented by hot yearning, I arose

(O gamble of delight!)

And went though no one knows,

Leaving behind a house in cold repose.

In darkness all went right,

By secret ladders, in clandestine clothes,

(O gamble of delight!)

In darkness I arose,

Leaving behind a house in cold repose.

And in the luck of night

In secret places where no other spied I went without my sight

Without a light to guide

Except the heart that lit me from inside.

It blazed my trail and shone

A surer path than noonday rays could show

Toward where there waited one

Whom only I could know

Out in a place where only we could go.

O guiding dark of night!

O dark of night more dear to me than dawn!

O night that can unite

A lover and loved one,

A lover and loved one moved in unison.

And on my flowering breast

Which I had kept for him and him alone

He slept as I caressed

And loved him for my own,

Breathing an air from redolent cedars blown.

And from the castle wall

The wind came down to winnow through his hair

Bidding his fingers fall,

Searing my throat with air

And all my senses were suspended there.

Beyond myself, I eased

My forehead on my love where he reclined.

Time stopped. I lay released,

Leaving my care behind

Among the lilies, out of night and mind.





I am not a complete idiot, however my lack of knowledge is vast.

Secrets make no friends

I'm bleeding and it is blue blood.

I'm crying and it is champagne.

There is a kitchen knife in the small of my back.

The mood- lighter throwing.



As I sit on my cloud, I glance down for second, and I remember why I am the one up so high.

I'm already wearing the sapphire crown...so why are you fashioning one of paperclips?



Existance is only a game................

Why is this relevant?

I'm as mild and as meek as a mouse
When I hear a command I obey.
But I know of a spot in my house where no one can stand in my way.
In my own little corner in my own little chair
I can be whatever I want to be.
On the wings of my fancy I can fly anywhere
and the world will open its arms to me.
I'm a young Norwegian princess or a milkmaid
I'm the greatest prima donna in Milan
I'm an heiress who has always had her silk made
By her own flock of silkworms in Japan
I'm a girl men go mad for love's a game
I can play with cool and confident kind of air.
Just as long as I stay in my own little corner
All alone in my own little chair
I can be whatever I want to be.
I'm a slave from Calcutta I'm a queen in Peru.
I'm a mermaid dancing upon the sea
I'm a huntress on an African safari... it's a dangerous type of sport and yet it's fun
In the night I sally forth to seek my quarry
And I find I forgot to bring my gun.
I am lost in the jungle all alone and unarmed when I meet a lioness in her lair
Then I'm glad to be back in my own little corner
All alone in my own little chair.

I am quite serious when I say I am missing one of my shoes.

Really, it is pink and flat and it has a bow...it's a size 6 1/2. If you find it and give it to me that'd be great.

This makes no sense.

What has passed has not left.

I realize that I am no longer the same person I was even two days ago...in a kinda bad way.

Over sized pieces are buried and they have a marker.

I've seen it all.

Coming back wasn't that same.

It's an illusion...the life that surrounds and hovers around my mind.

I miss the comfort in being sad.

Plunged under and I'm not doing well.

Hovel.

Look on the bright side...I'm on your side.

I was missing for an hour.

Was it only an hour?

I thought it was the whole night.

Ding ding ding, there's a glowing idea.

Fixate on something else!

Deficiency.

I am through smiling, because it is expected.

The mob of people (leeches) are in debt to the bubbles.

I pay tribute to stings.

Fourteen hours later, what is was that passed remains.

On the side of the road

Thud.
Thump.

Crash.

To appear untrue, is to fool.
Pick it up again.
Shove the scraps to either to the curb or at least the passenger side.
There is an extensive variety of trash to toss out, and the garbage pail contains everything.


Down the road, you'll have a clear view of the wreckage.
Right here are the littles pieces hit so hard they flew.
Why didn't I wear a seatbelt?
As I exited my seat, I cut my stomach on the windshield.

Soaked.

My face lit up with every word uttered in my direction and beyond. I couldn't remember what words passed if I tried. I knew that it was all so fascinating at the time. I lay in bed and ponder what thoughts could have swept me away and vanished quicker than they came. The man who is talking attempts to fill my head with water from a dried out well.

Mind Eraser.

Thump.
Thud.


I need assitance, afterall I am crumpled up at the bottom of the stairwell.

There is a vague sense that I once smiled without conscious effort wafting through the air.

I can erase my mind and mildly drift away. I wasn't built for any other way.

Honestly, I must confess, in a sick and disturbing way, I've begun to truly like emotional pain, and dramatic situations.

It is as though I want to make everything even worse. Sympathetic to villians, and a fan of wreckage, that's me. Awful. I tried. It cannot be undone.

Dumb. Happy?

I'm the chupacabra.
I am doll eyes.
I'm where the wild things are.
I am bouncy and flighty.
I- all I utter is I.


I'm not like them, I can pretend.
The sun is gone, but I have a light.
The day is done, but I'm having fun.
I think I am dumb, maybe just happy.

Skim the sun.
Fall asleep.
Wish Away.
... .... is cheap.
Soothe the burn.
Wake me up.

I think I'm dumb, maybe just happy.
My heart is broke, but I have some glue.
Help me along, through it all, and I'll leave with you.
We'll float around and hang out on clouds.
Then we'll come down.
We'll have a hangover.
I think I'm dumb, I think I'm done.

We passed upon the stair.
We spoke of was and when, although I wasn't there.
I spoke into his eyes. "I thought you died a long, long time ago."
I'm face to face with the ... ... .... ... .....
I laughed and shook his hand, made my way back home.
I searched for form and land.
Years and years I roamed.
I gazed a gazely stare.
We walked a million hills.
I must have died alone, a long, long, time ago.
Who knows, not me.
We never lost control.
You're face to face with the man who sold the world.
He said I was his friend.
It came as a surprise.

Oh no , not me, I never lost control.

Sound Familiar?