Lyricism - Part 2 (Rebel and All's Well)

Here are some more lyrics rescued from a torn and shredded high school folder helpfully labeled "Lyrics." As before, in an effort to rid the world, and myself, of these ridiculous expressions of lyrical content, I will be presenting selected lyrics from several "songs" here to allow the proper disgrace they will undoubtedly bestow upon me.

Read at your own risk. The song is in blue type with red type reserved for my public destruction.

Smurftastic

Dear Peyo,

I love the Smurfs. I absolutely adore those little blue Communists. But I feel the need to write to you to help clarify a few things. Please understand that by no means am I criticizing said Smurfs, but there may be some evil doings going on that you are unaware. (As always, I apologize if any of my facts are incorrect. They are based on the memory of a child.)

• First off, just how many Smurfs are there? There appear to be 14,773 or so, but Papa Smurf couldn't find enough Smurfs to do the Dance of the 100 Smurfs. Okay, so that puts the number of Smurfs at 99 at the most. However, this begs the question, why do you even have a Dance of the 100 Smurfs if you don't have 100 Smurfs?

Anticipation

                       Anticipation

 

                        Removed from you by flight –

                        Slow rain intimidates the sky –

                        The unknown of silent winds

                        Withholds your lips.

                        One fright begets another –

                        One anger destroys with tears –

                        We are too separate tonight.

                        The trust of your touch

                        Has been balanced midwest –

                        The total of my hunger

                        Resting without the means

                        Of stopping this undeniable ache.

                        Squeeze the remaining patience

                        Into seductive dreams at uncomfortable

                        Angles sharpened to wings

                        So I may venture our distance

                        To bring you into my comfort,

                        Into the arms of our anticipation.

                        This wait is lacking effort –

                        I’d stay forever just to glance

                        Towards your general air.

                        Yet it is an uneasy hold

                        I wait for my breath –

                        The first nerveless sense

                        After your arms find

                        Each other around my back.

                        These flashes of others

                        As they enter and leave my frame

                        Serve only to remind –

                        Serve only to confound –

                        Serve only to irritate

                        The cravings felt under

                        Every last existence of skin,

                        For none of their features

                        Develop into yours.

                         Pacing along this page

                        Allows me sanity for few seconds

                        But the hands of the watch

                        Do not match the motion of my own –

                        I spin off into words

                        And unattainable voice –

                        In the slightest wishes

                        That these miles won’t keep you

                        From hearing this beat –

                        These strokes of this pen –

                        And the increasing frustration

                        Of this hated anticipation.

                        Free me with a kiss

                        And bring me the elation

                        I have always known through you.

                        Please, my distanced one,

                        End this terminal longing

                        With a song from your soul

                        And the brush of your love.

                        Then, we will know,

                        The result of our anticipation

                        Is the stronger of us.

The Truths are Out There

Back in high school... those words are associated with bad emo drama and trying to figure out how to be "cool." I won't go through the list of cliches here, but they are cliches for a reason. And I do not deny them.

But this post is not about the glory days of high school. It is not an allegory for life. It is not some memorial about a time gone by. This post is dedicated to truths. In particular, two truths which were shared during lunch periods by a wise man named Dauod.

Oh, Diego...

Dear Diego,

I have not had much opportunity to watch your television show, but stumbled upon it today. I did not see the complete episode (I joined it in progress), but it left me with several questions. If you could help clear some of these questions up for me, I would appreciate it.

The episode in question was entitled "Giant Octopus to the Rescue." And again, I apologize if any of my questions would have been answered in the first 5 minutes of your program. Frankly, I couldn't be bothered to wait for another episode to find out.

1. In this episode, you are piloting a one-man submarine of some sort. This leads me to several questions, but the first one is: How do you know how to pilot a submarine? Are you some sort of baby genius?

Crossing Sensation

Crossing Sensation


From my dreams you emerged,
Rising - fair in your voice,
Delight to my ears,
Filling my head as before
With a language only known
During my moments of sleep.

I have seen you nightly
For at least a dozen years,
But the flow of your skin,
The sensuality of your curves,
The grace with which you do simplicity -
Exceeded the stunning woman
I knew I would find, but
Only knew through moonlit excitements.

As I was by your side,
In my memory and of our time,
I inhaled in your spirit and
Smoked in your soul
To bring myself to your truth,
Filling my lungs with your scent
So I may breathe your essence.

If I never had another bite
Of which I would taste

I would still savor

The delectable spice of you

And it would fill me forever.

   Here, what remains is my descent

   Into the trappings of emotion.

   I fear it, for the pleasure

   You bring and for the desire

   Driven from my deep.

   But these tones, images, aromas, and flavors

   Bring you to me closer

   And in my arms we know

   What we believe so unlikely

   Yet spoken no less true. 

More than these things

What presses my heart to you

Is your presence on my flesh.

The joy of your caress,

Your body against mine,

Our eyes locked in a single gaze

While our physical reason

Delights in the tangible pleasure

Of the other we never knew lived

In this, our haunted reality.

   But you do, in thoughts and thrills

   And I can not free from you,

   For what you are is here,

   Every eve I experience -

   Awake and unconscious.

Every slide of my skin is your breath,

Every bend of my limbs is your walk,

Every shiver which crawls on me,

Shaking to my core, is your touch

Upon my sense and self.

Your hips match the motion of mine,

Your lips are still sweet on my tongue,

Your fingers still roll through my hair

With every encountered breeze.

   My nerves, my skin, my blood

   Seem to keep your memory

   And will not let me forget

   That the one who felt me so

   Is true and well beyond illusion.

   She steps in this world,

   Eyes the insane where I dwell,

   And she is, she is the one I

   Know, want to know, and can not shake.

   She has moved across

   The nights of my dreams,

   Beyond the nightmares which shatter me,

   From the feel of fantasy

   And into the real of ecstasy.

When a Loss is a Win if You Didn't Lose Too Badly... Sorta... I Guess...

Well, I think a good portion of my brain cells died the other day. I was watching Sportscenter and had to sit through soccer highlights. It wasn't even World Cup soccer. It was something called the UEFA Champions League Semifinal. I knew Bayern Munich was already in the finals after winning their semifinal match earlier (a fact that seeped into my brain like a Trojan worm despite my attempts to block it. Damn Norton's Anti-Virus for the Brain update...), so I thought I would pay attention to these highlights. That way I could have a brief conversation with the first European person I encountered on the street.

BIG mistake.

Someone Call the BBB

Dear Elmo and Sesame Street staff,

Bait and switch. Very simply, it was a bait and switch tactic. And a very cruel bait and switch.

No, I didn't buy an inferior model of a car, refrigerator, or any other physical item. This bait and switch only cost me my childlike joy.