The truth, I know
Hasn't lost its appeal,
But the things
That we said
Mean nothing more
Than those we didn't think
To invent.
Yet.
You go back,
And I do too.
Being who we want
To be known as,
Our people faces
Unchanged.
And with each other,
More than ever.
So you keep your distance
Close around you,
And you feel safe once again.
And I wear my pain
Like armour,
Against feeling nothing.
Agendas complete
We can finally
Walk away.
Friday, 9 December 2011
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
I Breathe In
And the sadness
That I feel
Burns through my gloves
The soles of my boots
I leave behind ashes
Standing too still
Thinking of you
(There's a wooded path
That we should have taken
Where leaves would crumble
Beneath our feet
And it would be cold enough
To want to hold each other
Without feeling too close
Or being compelled to speak)
I breathe in
And you're gone
And the sadness that I feel
Burns through my gloves
And the soles of my boots
Collecting in ashes
On the side of the street
Where we said goodbye
That I feel
Burns through my gloves
The soles of my boots
I leave behind ashes
Standing too still
Thinking of you
(There's a wooded path
That we should have taken
Where leaves would crumble
Beneath our feet
And it would be cold enough
To want to hold each other
Without feeling too close
Or being compelled to speak)
I breathe in
And you're gone
And the sadness that I feel
Burns through my gloves
And the soles of my boots
Collecting in ashes
On the side of the street
Where we said goodbye
Saturday, 23 July 2011
(Work in progress)
There will be a place that is safe. We give to you and to your children who were the best of us all; we give to you this task. You must find this place, and you must live. You must live for those who were left behind. You must live for those who couldn’t. You must survive.
-Engraved above the entrance
to the bridge of the New Hope,
circa 3000 AD
Red lights screamed along the walls of a residential complex, jolting its occupants to sudden, disoriented wakefulness. The alarms had been ringing with increasing frequency over the last few months, and most people went back to sleep with only a few grumbles, living aboard an enormous intergalactic spaceship people learned to tune things out All that is except Jian Fahun-Pershan. But then Jian knew more about the alarms than the average citizen on board the New Hope. Though saying he knew more was deceptive, the truth was no one knew why the alarms were ringing, and the fact that they were ringing more often didn’t bode well with any of the colony council members. The truth had been kept from the population at large because there was no sense in creating panic; they had been told it was a minor misfunction with the PA system. Everything had been running smoothly for so long that no one expected any surprises. Most had forgotten that they had a purpose for being on the ship, had forgotten that they had been chosen for very specific reasons. Jian couldn’t blame them though. So much had happened. And more importantly, so much hadn’t.
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep Jian dressed and left his room for the Bridge. Even at the late hour the hallways weren’t empty. He returned nods and greetings, moving quickly so that no one would suck him into a conversation. Rarely social at the best of times, Jian preferred to make as few casual conversations as possible. And now, with his mind troubled, he was practically unapproachable. Banna often told him that he was living life as a thunder cloud must have, he thought with an inner smile as he watched a group of fifteen year old ensigns scatter at his approach. He liked being unapproachable. It kept a lot of idiots out of his way.
The elevator doors pinged open at the Bridge and as always Jian paused to admire the magnificence of the scene before him. The bridge doors were close to twenty feet high, and covered with carvings of all manner of elaborate creatures, many of whom Jian recognised from his lessons in Earth history, but many more that those lessons had not included. Humans shared some of the scenes with the animals, but there were no carvings of ships or anything else even vaguely related to technology or machines. For what must have been the millionth time he wondered why his ancestors, who had built the colony fleet and the all the marvellous technology that the fleet survived on, had not wanted to honour that technology on the immense carvings that decorated the bridge doors. His eyes left the doors and flicked briefly over the words engraved above the doors. Thanks to the computers and the educational programs that had been left behind, Jian and everyone else in the fleet could still read English, though the engraving was so vague no one knew what it meant. Oh roughly they could guess, but there were no details in those words, no explanation, no clue as to what that enigmatic message could mean.
“Why did you send us?” he thought at the engraving, and where is this place you promised?”
As usual there was no response. After a brief moment of foolish hope, Jian walked onto the bridge. Opia Lai-Hariff, the second in command stood at the main console, her dark chocolaty skin reflecting the charts and readings that she was examining closely. She was dressed in her starship uniform; the pale gold jacket and black trousers neatly pressed and turned out. Jian grinned in amusement; Opia took decorum very seriously and wouldn’t think of relaxing even during the late cycle shift, just in case the Fahun dropped in for a surprise check.
“Opia, what’s going on?” Jian asked wearily as he sank into the chair.
“I don’t know Fahun,” she responded, just as wearily, “the alarms just started of without any decipherable reason.”
“The other Colonies?
“Yes Fahun, they too have reported alarms, at exactly the same time as ours went off.”
“Fantastic. Our ancestors left us a warning, for something, but didn’t bother to tell us what for. Fantastic.” Jian scowled at the main clear, which was showing the black emptiness that it usually did. “Get me Fahun Bannon, I’m sure she’s awake.” He glared at Opia as he said it, awaiting the smirk that usually followed when he mentioned Banna, but Opia was too professional to as much as blink.
The blue light on the arm of the Chair blinked and Bannon’s low, clear voice filled the room, “Kisadh Fahun Jian, what’s kept you up so late in a cycle?”
“The red blaring messengers our ancestors left us, without a blaring message Fahun Bannon,” Jian added conversationally, “And you? Not bad dreams I hope?”
Fahun Bannon laughed, drawing an unwilling smile from Jian. She had that kind of laugh, un-ignorable. “But seriously Banna, we have to know why” Jian leaned closer to the arm panel, “I think we need to call pontiff.”
There was a moment of silence; Jian could almost see Bannon exchange looks with Lai-Corisa, rolling a lock of her dark hair between her fingers as she often did when she was thinking. He missed her when she was on the Eden, which was almost always. They barely saw each other, but that hadn’t lessened the bond between them at all. Jian was always profoundly aware that she was almost with him. It was usually a comforting thought.
“You’re right Jian. Call pontiff.”
The connection ended and Jian was sure that she knew something she hadn’t said out loud.
“Lai-Opia, inform the other ships. It is pontiff. An hour.”
Jian left the bridge and the made his way back to his rooms. His Fahun uniform was stiff and smelled like the cleaning disinfectants used in the ship laundry. It had been a long time since he had worn it. Infact he had only worn it twice since he had become Fahun of the New Hope. The first time on the day of his induction, the next on the day that Kihan Raishul had died. And now, the third, on the day of the first pontiff in four hundred year-cycles.
-Engraved above the entrance
to the bridge of the New Hope,
circa 3000 AD
Red lights screamed along the walls of a residential complex, jolting its occupants to sudden, disoriented wakefulness. The alarms had been ringing with increasing frequency over the last few months, and most people went back to sleep with only a few grumbles, living aboard an enormous intergalactic spaceship people learned to tune things out All that is except Jian Fahun-Pershan. But then Jian knew more about the alarms than the average citizen on board the New Hope. Though saying he knew more was deceptive, the truth was no one knew why the alarms were ringing, and the fact that they were ringing more often didn’t bode well with any of the colony council members. The truth had been kept from the population at large because there was no sense in creating panic; they had been told it was a minor misfunction with the PA system. Everything had been running smoothly for so long that no one expected any surprises. Most had forgotten that they had a purpose for being on the ship, had forgotten that they had been chosen for very specific reasons. Jian couldn’t blame them though. So much had happened. And more importantly, so much hadn’t.
Knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep Jian dressed and left his room for the Bridge. Even at the late hour the hallways weren’t empty. He returned nods and greetings, moving quickly so that no one would suck him into a conversation. Rarely social at the best of times, Jian preferred to make as few casual conversations as possible. And now, with his mind troubled, he was practically unapproachable. Banna often told him that he was living life as a thunder cloud must have, he thought with an inner smile as he watched a group of fifteen year old ensigns scatter at his approach. He liked being unapproachable. It kept a lot of idiots out of his way.
The elevator doors pinged open at the Bridge and as always Jian paused to admire the magnificence of the scene before him. The bridge doors were close to twenty feet high, and covered with carvings of all manner of elaborate creatures, many of whom Jian recognised from his lessons in Earth history, but many more that those lessons had not included. Humans shared some of the scenes with the animals, but there were no carvings of ships or anything else even vaguely related to technology or machines. For what must have been the millionth time he wondered why his ancestors, who had built the colony fleet and the all the marvellous technology that the fleet survived on, had not wanted to honour that technology on the immense carvings that decorated the bridge doors. His eyes left the doors and flicked briefly over the words engraved above the doors. Thanks to the computers and the educational programs that had been left behind, Jian and everyone else in the fleet could still read English, though the engraving was so vague no one knew what it meant. Oh roughly they could guess, but there were no details in those words, no explanation, no clue as to what that enigmatic message could mean.
“Why did you send us?” he thought at the engraving, and where is this place you promised?”
As usual there was no response. After a brief moment of foolish hope, Jian walked onto the bridge. Opia Lai-Hariff, the second in command stood at the main console, her dark chocolaty skin reflecting the charts and readings that she was examining closely. She was dressed in her starship uniform; the pale gold jacket and black trousers neatly pressed and turned out. Jian grinned in amusement; Opia took decorum very seriously and wouldn’t think of relaxing even during the late cycle shift, just in case the Fahun dropped in for a surprise check.
“Opia, what’s going on?” Jian asked wearily as he sank into the chair.
“I don’t know Fahun,” she responded, just as wearily, “the alarms just started of without any decipherable reason.”
“The other Colonies?
“Yes Fahun, they too have reported alarms, at exactly the same time as ours went off.”
“Fantastic. Our ancestors left us a warning, for something, but didn’t bother to tell us what for. Fantastic.” Jian scowled at the main clear, which was showing the black emptiness that it usually did. “Get me Fahun Bannon, I’m sure she’s awake.” He glared at Opia as he said it, awaiting the smirk that usually followed when he mentioned Banna, but Opia was too professional to as much as blink.
The blue light on the arm of the Chair blinked and Bannon’s low, clear voice filled the room, “Kisadh Fahun Jian, what’s kept you up so late in a cycle?”
“The red blaring messengers our ancestors left us, without a blaring message Fahun Bannon,” Jian added conversationally, “And you? Not bad dreams I hope?”
Fahun Bannon laughed, drawing an unwilling smile from Jian. She had that kind of laugh, un-ignorable. “But seriously Banna, we have to know why” Jian leaned closer to the arm panel, “I think we need to call pontiff.”
There was a moment of silence; Jian could almost see Bannon exchange looks with Lai-Corisa, rolling a lock of her dark hair between her fingers as she often did when she was thinking. He missed her when she was on the Eden, which was almost always. They barely saw each other, but that hadn’t lessened the bond between them at all. Jian was always profoundly aware that she was almost with him. It was usually a comforting thought.
“You’re right Jian. Call pontiff.”
The connection ended and Jian was sure that she knew something she hadn’t said out loud.
“Lai-Opia, inform the other ships. It is pontiff. An hour.”
Jian left the bridge and the made his way back to his rooms. His Fahun uniform was stiff and smelled like the cleaning disinfectants used in the ship laundry. It had been a long time since he had worn it. Infact he had only worn it twice since he had become Fahun of the New Hope. The first time on the day of his induction, the next on the day that Kihan Raishul had died. And now, the third, on the day of the first pontiff in four hundred year-cycles.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
I Walk These Streets
Do you watch for me,
Out of the corner of your eye
Calculating the odds
Of my walking in
To a place I never went to
Without you
Do you make lists in your head
Of all the things
You would like to tell me
If things had been different
And you and I
Still closed our day together
Do you wake up from dreaming
That my hands
Were on your skin again
Your face against my shoulder
And you no longer had to regret
The kisses that never happened
Or is it just me.
Out of the corner of your eye
Calculating the odds
Of my walking in
To a place I never went to
Without you
Do you make lists in your head
Of all the things
You would like to tell me
If things had been different
And you and I
Still closed our day together
Do you wake up from dreaming
That my hands
Were on your skin again
Your face against my shoulder
And you no longer had to regret
The kisses that never happened
Or is it just me.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Change the Needle LP
I meant what I said
When I said goodbye
I opened the walls of my heart
and I set you free
I went through the motions
Of missing you
But the music inside me
Was anything but sad
So we danced like old lovers
And we talked like old friends
And we closed our eyes
To rest against each other
And the dawn came slowly
But when I opened my eyes
The music inside me
Was singing with your voice.
When I said goodbye
I opened the walls of my heart
and I set you free
I went through the motions
Of missing you
But the music inside me
Was anything but sad
So we danced like old lovers
And we talked like old friends
And we closed our eyes
To rest against each other
And the dawn came slowly
But when I opened my eyes
The music inside me
Was singing with your voice.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Perspective
To survive you
To survive me
I must stand at a great height
Stare down at the world
Mesmerised by the skull crushing distance
Try not to think about jumping
(This is about us,
Not me)
And find a point on the horizon
To measure up against
An absolute to decide
Amongst all that music playing inside my head
Which song I should be dancing to
To survive me
I must stand at a great height
Stare down at the world
Mesmerised by the skull crushing distance
Try not to think about jumping
(This is about us,
Not me)
And find a point on the horizon
To measure up against
An absolute to decide
Amongst all that music playing inside my head
Which song I should be dancing to
Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM (This is just before)
It's almost two in the morning, and I'm smoking cigarette butts from a nearly empty ashtray. The game, that should have been engrossing is fading away, and I am left to wonder, as I have so many times in the past, what I'm looking for.
It isn't that I'm alone here, I can do better than just handle aloneness, I love it. I am not awake and restless because there is no one to share my bed tonight, or even the house.
I think, in the dazed, fuzzy yet startlingly insightful way one can in the wee hours of the morning, that I don't know how to not be in love. So I am forcing the issue with Ekat, or rather forcing it with myself so I can obsess about him, of which I am now thoroughly bored. He is a truly amazing man, but just not twisted enough to give me the fodder I need for proper obsession. Too straightforward and uncomplicated (for which I am of course at some level incredibly grateful, having much experience with men who lap up my obsession and let me imprison myself in it).
Though I don't give up easily and have spent the last four hours quietly formulating the best way to be horrifically upset in the coming days. I have discovered, unfortunately, that I'm bored of this too, and it depresses me that I don't really care. Not about him, or us or where we are going or any of that.
So I'm awake. The match just finished (United won if anyone's wondering), I'm out of cigarette butts. And my thoughts have no one to caress.
It isn't that I'm alone here, I can do better than just handle aloneness, I love it. I am not awake and restless because there is no one to share my bed tonight, or even the house.
I think, in the dazed, fuzzy yet startlingly insightful way one can in the wee hours of the morning, that I don't know how to not be in love. So I am forcing the issue with Ekat, or rather forcing it with myself so I can obsess about him, of which I am now thoroughly bored. He is a truly amazing man, but just not twisted enough to give me the fodder I need for proper obsession. Too straightforward and uncomplicated (for which I am of course at some level incredibly grateful, having much experience with men who lap up my obsession and let me imprison myself in it).
Though I don't give up easily and have spent the last four hours quietly formulating the best way to be horrifically upset in the coming days. I have discovered, unfortunately, that I'm bored of this too, and it depresses me that I don't really care. Not about him, or us or where we are going or any of that.
So I'm awake. The match just finished (United won if anyone's wondering), I'm out of cigarette butts. And my thoughts have no one to caress.
Sunday, 20 March 2011
Agony/Ecstasy
And quiet is the thought of you,
The file on you complete,
Except what we forgot to do,
A thousand kisses deep.
And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A thousand kisses deep.
The file on you complete,
Except what we forgot to do,
A thousand kisses deep.
And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A thousand kisses deep.
Monday, 14 March 2011
Formal Complaint
Oh fuck off Universe.
And isn't it way too early in my cycle for PMS?
And, why am I like THIS?
And isn't it way too early in my cycle for PMS?
And, why am I like THIS?
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