Where is my inspiration?

The World In-Between

2009-04-03T02:42:25Z

While I was sitting in a subway train last night, I thought, I have found another liminal space. I had for some time felt that my refugee existence in Toronto was liminal, with my bed in a dining room, but this little trip in the underground vessels opened my eyes to the little liminal niches in our society.

The entrance to this tiny world isn't glamorous; it is usually governed by a distracted, frumpy, old man seated in a cubby booth, with only a small circular hole at the base of the glass window for change. I've tried asking these guys for assistance, but they responses have only lead to my confusion; one man gave me free fare simply because I smiled sweetly, the second man didn't give me the quarter change I deserved, because I had already dumped money into the little glass fare box and he wasn't able to refund me in reverse, and finally the last man was unable to sell me more than one ticket (which I will admit was because I didn't have enough hard cash, but don't any of these places have electronic abilities? What era are we in any way?)

The others entering this world are also distracted, and apparently in a massive hurry to embark upon the slithering vessels. Once admitted, you try to remember which way is north or south, and because there are no natural signs, I am left to question my intelligence and hurt my brain trying to figure out this equation so that I will embark on the right train. My technique has been to associate downtown with south. Obvious to most, I know. Another helpful tip is to memorize the stations north and south of the present one. Then once I am convinced of the correct direction, I anticipate in relative silence to hear the thundering tunnel sounds and to see the burst of light and to feel the warm rush of wind. Finally the vessel slams to a stop and I step forward, only to be bon-barded by the fleeing others. Do I still want to get on? But of course! So I push in, and dartingly look for a seat next to someone who doesn't look like they will attach me. I spot one next to a middle-aged white woman, wearing a large brown jacket, mousy short hair; she is hunched over, reading a book. She looks safe. A jolt of the train demands I find a seat or be thrown across the width of the train, and so I stumble towards the seat, sinking gratefully into the red felt seat.

My eyes naturally search for the subway train map to ensure that I am going in the right direction. I find my location, notice the next couple of stops, and in general concentrate on calming myself by taking deep breaths. After I am reassured, my eyes notice the large signs plastered above the train's large windows. I amuse myself at reading each one in detail, as if it were an exam. Then I study the other passengers. Taking note of the heated discussion in front of me - a student and a professor. He is saying some words in a foreign language and then explaining their meaning to her - she is repeating them, and then asking him questions. A tutoring session. Other people are staring off into space, or listening to music. But we are all here, all together. If there was an emergency we would all automatically trust each other, depend on each other, and help each other. But no accident occurs, and we are able to leave the underground world without making one connecting comment to another soul.

It is only the in-between world, where strangers sit side-by-side, sometimes touching arms, but never speaking. A world of steal, shades of gray, and spotted with red seats and red doors. We don't want to take anything away we didn't bring in. We certainly don't want to leave anything there.

It is not a life lesson; it's just a trip into the world in-between.

equivocal_muse @ 2006-04-24T23:46:00

2006-04-25T05:48:59Z

This, I suppose is going to be a more normal entry. Normal for those of you who don't enjoy spilling out creative jargin at spontanious moments. Anyhoo, I've just written my last final and I'm feeling in the mood to celebrate - or maybe sleep. Right now, at this hour, and after going through tax returns with my father, I'm ready for my favourite place - my bed. So to those of you who care - Hmmm - very few in this category - I'll wish you all the best in whatever trials are coming your way. That includes cleaning up after these dead weeks.

Happy times may be rolling in...if only source checks would check themselves...are disappear into a cloudy smoke...hmmm...a fire in the English department...I hope Honorat is not reading this!!!

This Beauty

2006-04-19T07:31:41Z

You can’t hide this beauty
It comes creeping out
Flashing here and there
Timidly sometimes
Flamboyant other times
You can smudge this face
Or Tear the hair
But you can’t hide this beauty

You won’t hide this beauty
I’ve got it here
Somewhere
And its mine to show
My beauty is beating deep
Its singing softly
And its my reality
You won’t hide this beauty

You’ll never hide this beauty
You want it too much
Its this beauty you need
And you know it
I’ve got this beauty to share
And you want a slice
So come by slowly and gaze awhile
For I’ve got this beauty to share
And you’ll never want to hide it

The Pretty Lady

2006-04-17T18:59:10Z

Amongst ivy dripping sweetly
Stood a maiden, bowing meekly
Eying a downcast yonder rose,
Her arms about her drawn close
Lamp light flickers on her soft cheek
As gayly, dancing women seek
To feel a glimmer of the fire
Reflected in their partner’s eye
Laughter soaring a bit higher
Out of the window’s opened drift
Causing her eyes to humbly lift
And suffer to glance at each gentile
While ladies pleasured a sweet smile
As jewels ‘dorned their timid necks
A tear glistens as she reflects
And ponders the deepened crevasse
A brooding man resting his glass
His dark eyes seeking her only
Without wait and moving quickly
Leaving his drink and without cheer
He reaches her side and draws near
She startles back her peace transgressed
He raises a blush from her breast
Yet regards none of her reaction
And grabs her hand in rude fashion
That fair maiden hardly resists
His eager smile and his requests

A Stolen Kiss - This is a finished poem - I think - Is a poem ever finished?

2006-04-17T17:54:38Z

Frosted trees beneath heaven's cathedral sway
Shiveringly their silver-silhouetted forms shake
Blurred amongst the rugged rocks of that wooded garden
Man and spirit - parts to wrestle
Each misty breath heaved by the weeping Being
Is by another marked

Nature by its forces touches the Creator
A dewy grass-blade prickles the Saviour's knee
A sharpened rock embeds the Holy cheek
And the twitching trees bend in to see
As the lights of heaven form a crown
Of loving serenity

Nature draws around its Lord
Protecting its own,
Yet the dew turns icy
And the rocks begin to tear
As the night grows darker
And a spirited fog begins to scamper

Creeping almost silently between the tear soaked rocks,
A longing of sweet bitterness echoes a throb of regret
The Lord drinks the cup of acceptance
But becomes drunk with intimate longing
Miracles of life crush and crumble
Its jagged beauty forms a vicious scene

The emerald blackness of the slithering’s eyes
Draw in the Man’s weakened immortality
Understanding dawns upon the withered mind
A flicker of sickened inspiration gleams
A perfect game of deception
A kiss to seal the victory

A nearing glow of flames
Sends a tremor across the plains
Fainted cries trigger a muted response,
A gleam highlights the inpatient fiend
As nature itself freezes in anticipation
And the Lord holds out His palms

Hastening steps and mortal fires
Find the Saviour waiting
Expecting
Humbly
While His spirit prepares to fight
And the other licks his sucking lips

As the Lord's heart clenches in horrid foretaste
And His blood forms patterns upon His cheek,
As the closing tides of evil soak His inner core
And waves of fiendish glory
Seem to scream from within
Did He turn for just one look
At the smarted face of His unequal foe?

Did He, amongst the shattering shadows,
Long to battle it out in that moment
To stealth his strength against
The deamon
Whose blinding pride
Cries out in weakness?

In that world of enclosed blackness
Judas and Jesus
Touch
A mark,
A kiss,
An imprint of sinful truth -
When the unloved, loved infinitely

A thieved symbol:
An echo of heaven
Laid down with hell
And together they clash
Forever imprinting
The Saviour's flesh

The humid moment
When a stolen kiss
Dripped and clung
Throbbed and sighed
Sealing the Saviour's death;
Restoring divine intimacy

A stolen kiss
To save us

More editing - a slow process

2006-04-10T01:26:10Z

Frosted trees beneath heaven's cathedral sway
Blurred amongst the rugged rocks of that wooded garden
Man and spirit - parts to wrestle and to play
Each breath he takes
Another marks
And so the battle continues

Nature by its forces, marks the creator
A dewy grass-blade prickles the saviour's knee
A rugged rock embeds the Holy cheek
And the twitching trees bend in to see
As the lights of heaven form a crown
Of loving serinity

Nature draws around its Lord
Protecting its own,
Yet the dew turns icy
and the rocks begin to tear
As the night grows darker
For an enemy starts sucking out his revenge

Creeping almost silently between the tear soaked rocks,
A longing of sweet bitterness echoes a throb of regret
The Lord drinks the cup of acceptance
But becomes drunk with intimate longing

The emerald blackness of the slithering’s eyes
Draw in the man’s weakened immortality
Understanding dawns upon the withered mind
A flicker of sickened inspiration gleams
A perfect game of desception
A kiss to seal the victory

A nearing glow of flames
Sends a tremor across the plains
And fainted cries trigger a muted response
A gleam highlights the inpatient fiend
As nature itself freezes in anticipation

Hastening steps and mortal fires
Find the Saviour waiting
Expecting
Humbly
While His spirit prepares to fight

As the Lord's heart clenched in horrid anticipation
And his blood formed patterns upon his cheek,
As the closing tides of evil seemed to soak his inner core
And the waves of physical stress
Seemed to scream from within
Did He turn for just one look
At the smarted face of His unequal foe?

Did He agonize over memories of baffling priests
And hungry commoners?
As the ache grew deeper and an escape did not seem sure

As the thunder crashed above and a sickening cry below
Announced that nature and God were a removed source of strength

A mark, a kiss, an imprint of sinful truth - the unloved, loved infinitely

A sign of affection, a seal of love…

The kisses brought by whole lepers, awakened girls, and grown men
Would spur warm memories
But freeze the betrayer’s kiss
And seal the Saviour’s decay

A stolen kiss, tis all it took, to remind the saviour of each disciple’s betrayal
A stolen kiss, so quickly given that love reversely given, could be rightly shown

Stolen Kiss

2006-03-30T20:58:52Z

Happiness

2006-03-29T04:33:59Z

Alas, here am I in the computer lab about ready to vomit up a lung. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but this day has been long and how else is one to describe a pounding, demanding, go-to-bed kind of headache? I have several things to be happy for: 1) I have begun the doomed final project for my technology class 2) I am about to go home 3) I have not fallen to pieces YET 4) I am presently "tweaking" my communication skills 5) I have really nothing profound to complain about 6) I have in fact had a productive, cheerful, satisfactory day.

So to those of you who are reading, *cough, cough* Salamander, I hope that you are findings at least six reasons to be happy.

equivocal_muse @ 2006-03-22T21:52:00

2006-03-23T05:08:12Z

Hello World - aka Salamander and possibly Honorat

So this is my attempt at writing about life in general - so bear with me.

Right, so presently I am attempting to write a book critique on the book Capitvating by John and Stasi Elderidge. An unbelievable book about women and beauty and God. I am reading it at just the right time in my life. Oh, how absolutely fabulous the book is - it answers so many of my soul's longings.

Other than that outburst of emotion, my day has been rather blah. I did spend some time with Honorat watching part of "Corpse Bride" and this other creepy, drug movie "Fear and Thoathing in Las Vegas". I find the Corpse Bride to be quite charming, although I cringe to think of what the ending is like.

Other than that, I have nothing much too significant to share.

But, Salamander, if you do care about my personal life, perhaps you should ask me how my love life is going.

Take care to the two of you...

This seems very much like a e-mail to two people at once, two castly different people. And possibly to the world - as I am too lazy as this moment to exclude all others besides my friends. Although I don't think I have much fear in that.

The Stolen Kiss

2006-03-08T07:21:03Z

Stolen Kiss

Frosted trees beneath heaven's cathedral do sway
Blurred amongst the rugged rocks of that wooded garden
Man and spirit - parts to wrestle and to play
Each breath he takes
Another marks
And so the battle continues

Yet nature by its forces, marks the creator
The dewy grasses prickle the saviour's knee
The rugged rocks embeds the Holy cheek
And the twitching trees bend in to see
As the lights of heaven form a crown
Of loving serinity

Nature draws around its Lord
Protecting its own,
Playing almost silently between the tear soaked rocks,
A longing of sweet bitterness echoes a tune of regret
The Lord drinks the cup of acceptance
But becomes drunk with intimate longing

The emerald blackness of the slithering’s eyes
Draw in the man’s weakened immortality
Understanding dawns upon the withered mind
A flicker of sickened inspiration gleams
A perfect game of desception
A kiss to seal the victory

A mark, a kiss, an imprint of sinful truth - the unloved, loved infinitely

A sign of affection, a seal of love…

The kisses brought by whole lepers, awakened girls, and grown men
Would spur warm memories
But freeze the betrayer’s kiss
And seal the Saviour’s decay

A stolen kiss, tis all it took, to remind the saviour of each disciple’s betrayal
A stolen kiss, so quickly given that love reversely given, could be rightly shown

Poetic Mutterings - I'm starting a poem - help me out

2006-02-24T08:28:22Z

Stolen Kiss

Frosted trees sway beneath heavenly lights
Blurred amongst the rugged rocks of a garden
A man wrestles with his personal mission

Playing almost silently between the tear soaked rocks,
A voice of sweet bitterness sings a tune of regret
The dark blackness of the slithering’s eyes
Draws in the man’s weakness
And comes up with a perfect weapon

A sign of affection, a seal of love…

The kisses brought by whole lepers, awakened girls, and grown men
Would spur warm memories
But freeze the betrayer’s kiss
And seal the Saviour’s decay

A stolen kiss, tis all it took, to remind the saviour of each disciple’s betrayal
A stolen kiss, so quickly given that love reversely given, could be rightly shown