Mumblings of the Madman

Mumblings of the Madman

nydps

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Final New Entry	[Nov. 11th, 2007\|03:22 pm]
Hi everyone! Unlike the usual story/poem/monologue, I'm letting you know that I have decided to shut this journal down indefinitely. I am gathering all my writing together and editing it for possible publication. Therefore, I want to get rid of this to prevent a hassle later down the road. Thank you to everyone that has followed my writings, it means a lot to me.<3 If I do happen to get published, I will definitely post here again to let you know!
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For My Love

[Jun. 15th, 2007|03:47 pm]

For My Love on Monday

I was once asked what it meant to love,

and I had quite the reply:

First her kiss is like a glove

and her touch, no money can buy.

It is as if summer’s close is drawing nigh,

and all you can see are couples as they crowd

in the parks on the warm days at the end of July.

This explanation should be allowed.

Still not knowing what I was speaking of

he begged me to retry.

I sang, and laughed, and danced thereof,

whilst my partner just stood by.

A simple definition I could not seem to supply.

Due to the fact that I clearly vowed

to explain love to this man, I would once more try.

This explanation should be allowed

Frustrated, I looked above

and found an answer in the sky!

“You must look towards the turtle dove;

when she sings her ever sweet song,” said I,

“Then her melody you must multiply

and sing for all to hear out loud

until soaring on her wings you must rely.”

This explanation should be allowed.

Love, therefore all these verses were meant to imply

what it is like to live on a cloud,

For with you it seems that I can fly.

This explanation should be allowed.

For My Love on Tuesday

Your eyes, they shine like diamonds in the sky,

And your touch, like a brush of excitement.

When I’m with you, it seems that I should try

To create some kind of grandiose event.

For you, naught else would be of worthy praise.

While your elegance seems to grow by day,

My mind searches to find the correct phrase

That can explain my love in the right way.

O Love! if only you could know how you

Can make my heart beat for your love so true!

For My Love on Wednesday

Love, you set my world afire

As I’m hoping to conspire

Send to me your heart’s true wish

And I dream of naught but true love’s kiss

As I’m hoping to conspire

Of the love that we can offer

And I dream of naught but true love’s kiss

To settle me in this peaceful den

Of the love that we can offer

Send to me your heart’s true wish

To settle me in this peaceful den

Love, you set my world afire

For My Love on Thursday

My one true love! My muse! O how I

Yearn for your touch; for your gaze!

Open your heart to me, and I swear that I shall

Never be able to leave. You

Entrance me with your smile, and

Time and again, it seems that I can

Revel in your magnificent,

Undying, and

Eternal beauty.

Lure me in again, and resistance becomes

Obsolete. Notice me now and you shall see the love flowing through my

Veins. Notice me again and you shall see my

Everlasting devotion to you, my muse!

For My Love on Friday

Love, you have the strength

of a thousand moons as they

fill the midnight sky.

Love, you are as bright

as a thousand shining suns

that show your beauty.

You empower me

with a sense of being that

can ne’er be compared.

Love, you are my in-

spiration to continue

moving through my day.

Wherever you go,

you will always be in my

heart. I adore you.

Forever shall I

cherish you. Now and always,

I truly love you.

For My Love on Saturday

O! Sweet love of mine!

The radiant morning shines most with you.

It is as if the heavens sent me a sign --

To begin the day with a love so pure

Could only be a day of God’s design!

Because of your grace, I know of love so true

That not even the darkest night could obscure

Your eyes, as they pass through

My undeserving soul and intertwine.

A ghostly dance they entice me to pursue

And O! How your laughter can lure

Me from a slumber so divine!

And as I move from night’s death, you ensure

The pains of sleep that I once knew

Are worthless in front of a love so demure.

For My Love on Sunday

The shower’s steam rises

As we mangle our way through the mist

And our love pours down the drain.

Is this how it felt when we first kissed?

The water falls down on us fast;

How I wish the hot pain would last.

We turn up the heat.

As the fog envelopes the mirrors,

I draw your body all the nearer.

I pull at your hair,

You express your surprised excitement.

You scratch at my skin,

The shower’s rain writes my indictment.

The temperature is growing

All the while we are knowing

What it means to die.

I lose a bit of myself to you,

A small sacrifice while our love grew.

We soon let the hot shower grow cold

And into each other we will fold.

We’ve spent our life force

And now it is time for our peace;

The shower head‘s water ends its lease.

Weary, we fall asleep in the tub

And while our desires subside,

There will still be the kingdom of love.

And no one can take that from us.

For while our hairs will grow old and grey,

Inside my heart you will always stay.

Until the day’s end

When we tire and retreat to bed.

Know that you’ll always be in my head.

Lying awake in each other’s arms

We’ll remember our life.

Together, nothing will bring us harm

And that is how we will stay.

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Om My Mother's Birthday	[May. 1st, 2007\|07:54 pm]
Thank you Mother -- you are truly grand And you guide me through life hand-in-hand I don’t know how far I could have gone without you Your will and your love are my very own guiding light And you guide me through life hand-in-hand And while you age, you shall never grow old in my heart Your will and your love are my very own guiding light I don’t know where I would have ended up without you And while you age, you shall never grow old in my heart I don’t know how far I could have gone without you I don’t know where I would have ended up without you Thank you Mother -- you are truly grand
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The River Brandy	[Apr. 29th, 2007\|08:10 am]
I don’t own a plot in Margaritaville, I don’t personally know Jacky D. Yet it seems that the only thing I feel is the sharp pain of an alcoholic overdose. Once, when I was a younger man I had the rare chance to dwell in the option of an open plan. But that soon slid down the drain. I would have to leave my alcoholic expectations back home if I wanted to drink. That soon led to the complications of an unfortunate bit of consciousness. Shaken, stirred, and with a twist I’ll take ‘em however they come. I can get so crunk you’ll think you’re drunk Give me a shotgun with a chaser, ‘Cause you can forget me with an eraser. I can go to church three times a day just to take the communion. It feels like I should be in a disarray, or at least have forgotten my religion. But I’ve never had a bit of Scotch, I don‘t know the fine girl Brandy. Don’t believe me, sit and watch. You’re soon to learn the truth. Too much of a good thing can be wonderful, so who’s in a hurry? Let those that merely talk and never think, that live in the wild anarchy of drink, Learn to stay there and feel the pity of the men that are sitting pretty. And yet it seems the only thing I feel is the sharp pain of that alcoholic overdose. Shaken, stirred, and with a twist I’ll take ‘em however they come. I can get so crunk you’ll think you’re drunk Give me a shotgun with a chaser, ‘Cause you can forget me with an eraser. Will you forget me with an eraser?
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The Destruction of Amnon	[Apr. 28th, 2007\|11:22 pm]
From the festive disaster and the horrid miracle, love and life seemed to spring anew. It was not a sudden change, nor was it a status symbol -- Rather, it was the foul honesty of a wealthy crisis. Seeing her, on the rocky shoreline; he felt her heartbeat in his chest and heard her whisper in his ear. Her tyrannical perfection cast a beautiful shadow over his mind, and for days he could think of nothing else. The hair as black as night, as the tresses catch the wind. Her dress as white as the peaceful dove floating overhead. She was simply the wrong gift in a helpful plague that he simply could not stand. He watched her as the sun sank lower beneath the western shore. It seemed his spiteful love should flourish in sour optimism, for he slid a little closer. He stared as she made her way back over the winding trail. Inside the doomed sanctuary built for two. Outside the room where she lay to sleep. Quick breaths and short steps, in case he should stir up a noise. Oh dear Amnon, sweet misguided Amnon. For when your sister fell, why did you blame the sickness, when the corruption was between? Inside the quaint mausoleum, and to the holy deathbed not a hair out of place when you took her life. But when you took it once again, the world would know your guilt. And so you run to the water, with her body pressed close to yours. Tell me did they place you in the land of Helen, or were you saved for the suicides? Tell me, cruel master; you glorious slut! Was it worth the trouble? Is that brief moment of human pleasure worth the torture? Would you do it once again, knowing the consequence? From the festive disaster and the horrid miracle, love and life seemed to spring anew. It was not a sudden change, nor was it a status symbol. Rather, it was the foul honesty of a wealthy crisis.
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Reach Beyond	[Apr. 21st, 2007\|05:40 pm]
In collaboration with: Gaia When one can feel all of his surroundings, his surrounds are surreal. His steps are instant, breaths are quick; the spine is invaded with biting chills and every time he's tempted to turn back, a storm brews in his rocking mind -- rendering all such temptations false. For now his time is just a shallow pool, waiting to be filled. Could that be a mistake? Mistakes are corporal, reach beyond. He extends his lifeless hands, only to scratch the surface of that which fantasy or reality knows no boundaries. Boundaries are only there for those who believe in them. Should he cling to the taint of humanity languishing in sin? Or transcend like a forgotten memory? The storm within will never be released, and the wind is heavy with silent screams that rain silent tears of raging hearts broken in time. Time is only an essence of the mind. Surroundings mean nothing, and thus are lost in time.
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Voltage	[Apr. 12th, 2007\|09:56 pm]
There are some that say getting shocked is a lot like having Sex. The rush of the electricity certainly does provide some sort of orgasmic rush, But I’m not too sure if that feeling is equitable to the brush of a lover’s skin. The way her skin is silky smooth, the soft scratch of her nails down my back, and the gentle brush of her breasts upon my chest All make me love her and want to love her all the more, but is that the same as an electric jolt? That slight tingling of senses as you feel the blood rushing down to your center Is a very liberating feeling. One that only the eyes of the lover can create in the beloved. But the pure euphoria of the aftermath, is like a surge Through an electrical socket. As I find my plug, and she her opening, I suppose that Sex Can be considered more like A rush of electricity.
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To Family--	[Apr. 10th, 2007\|10:45 am]
Wistfully working its way with the wind, Our leaf has begun its journey. Down from the branches of the strong elm tree To eventually land in the water. Flowing this way and that, The brilliant colors catch the sun. A splash of orange and then The playful colors of yellow. Yes, down from the branches of the strong elm tree And eventually landing in water. It rests on the lawn of young Danny B., Who is currently raking the yard. Seeing the bag with all of his friends, Our leaf takes off once again. It passes by houses that are all decorated, For the holiday season comes nigh. It sees the kiddies all dressing up, And it wants to join in the fun. But down from the branches of the strong elm tree it came, And it will only end up in the water. However, our leaf never imagined What adventures may lay thereafter. For once it hit the bustling brook, It started to flow towards the stream. Soon our leaf was used as a boat By a traveling family of dragonflies. They buzzed a sweet buzz, and they hummed a great hum, And swiftly soothed our leaf to sleep. It dreamt of the branches of the strong elm tree, And forgot all about the water. It dreamt of the summer that had passed oh so quickly, And of the dreamy days it dozed in the sun. None other had been as green or as fresh, As our leaf had been in his youth. It dreamt of the first day of budding, When the leaf wasn’t sure of the Earth. It dreamt of the rain, and it dreamt of the shine. It dreamt of the wind, and it dreamt of all time. Our leaf wasn’t quite sure where it was going now, Now that the stream had carried it so. A stirring cold shook our leaf from its slumber, And it saw the first snowflake fall down. By now our leaf was small and shriveled, And the vibrant colors had all faded ‘way. Frozen in place on the great majestic pond, Our leaf was thankful for much. And especially for the branches of the strong elm tree And the long and loving journey to the water. Taking a long deep breath, and gazing at its surroundings Our leaf fell asleep once more, and was finally at rest once more.
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Alighieri’s Law	[Oct. 18th, 2006\|12:34 pm]
Those who are destined Will find the way to their star Know when to dive in Dive; you need to have courage Dive; you need to have strength Destiny will lead You will follow Follow the future Follow the past Follow your heart Failure Paradise lost You’ve never lost But have you won? When will you ever learn? The key will find you He shall open new doorways His word will awe you Listen; that is your lesson Listen; his knowledge is great You are in his hands He speaks of heaven and hell He will be a guide Heaven can be grand Hell can intrigue Combine Forge anew You are chosen Endings can be beginnings Fate is in your hands Your battle will end Malice is forever gone Friendship will renew Battle; fight for your friendship Battle; fight for your soul Your fight is over Now there will be no more You have won the war Friends As before Disputes are resolved Start your new destiny Hope looms on the horizon
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The Professor	[Aug. 28th, 2006\|02:56 pm]
[SETTING] The professor walks into the room, and a small hush falls over the room. The first class of college has begun. His voice is soft and caring. As some stragglers enter the room, a smile starts to spread across his face. [RJ] Okay, so the first thing we have to get out of the way is what to call me. Now, you can call me Professor Johnson, if you would like, but I prefer RJ. I know that is a little odd, but I consider you all colleges now. What you cannot call me, however, under any circumstance, is Mr. Johnson. Now, the reasoning behind that is you figure one hundred and eighty school days per year, and about six hours per day. That would be one thousand eighty hours a year. Now, I have taught elementary students for a good thirty-seven years, so we’re at thirty-nine thousand nine hundred sixty hours. In every hour, there are sixty minutes. Two million three hundred ninety-seven thousand six hundred minutes total. Now, if you figure that on average, five different little kids call your name every minute that is eleven million nine hundred eighty-eight thousand times that I have heard ‘Mr. Johnson.’ So I vowed that after I got out of elementary education, I would never have another person call me ‘Mr. Johnson’ ever again. Now, of course, if the name was followed by something good, like ‘Mr. Johnson, let me give you a cup of coffee’ or ‘Mr. Johnson, you’re my favorite teacher ever!’, then I would like having my name spoken twelve million times. However, it was always ‘Mr. Johnson, I have to go to the bath -- Oh…” or “Mr. Johnson, I think I’m going to be si--”, so needless to say, I don’t want you to call me Mr. Johnson. With that said, I can’t wait to get to know all of your names.
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