Sunday, March 14, 2010

rrrRrrRRRRRRRR

You either get it or you don't.

Friday, March 12, 2010

lazy much.

Haven't posted in a couple of days but its okay. I do this for myself only so I don't have to keep anyone happy by posting often. I'm sitting at Blenz, drinking coffee, with a laptop listening to my playlist mixed with the bad radio music that is playing here. it's 6:55pm as I'm typing this. Another 3 hours to go. I wish it was raining outside. There is just something about being in a coffee shop when it rains outside that turns me on. Anyways, this song that I'm listening to, kind of reminds me of this poem that wrote. So i went through my files and found that one poem, one the first click, it's #4. lucky me...heh. I read it once, read it twice and I can just feel the emotions that I went through as I was writing the poem a year ago. I remember writing it at my friend's house when i stayed over. Couldn't sleep and it was pretty late at night. I wanted to talk to someone, but I feel weak when I do. And I don't want that. I don't ever want anyone to know how I look when I'm weak. Anyone I'm not comfortable with I guess. No one needs to know how much of a coward I can be, or how many thousand pieces I can shatter into. And so what if they do? So what if I can find someone to talk to it about? Nobody can help me. Nobody can save me from what was going on except for myself because why? I'm the only one who's constantly keeping myself in the ditch. I saw the opening I saw the ladder, but I didn't want to leave the darkness. As if things would get better if I stayed there long enough, and everything would go back to normal. As if someone would hear me cry and save me from my own misery. Nah, it doesn't work that way. But I saved myself, and I'm glad I did it alone. I'm a stronger person. I think my life is better than what I had before. I moved on from where i was two years ago and from what happened a year ago. I don't know about you. But I thank you for what you've taught me, I can never be passionate about things the way I am now. I'm still slowly learning, there are still things revolving the thing/word/feeling/whatever "love" that I'm trying to figure out. So thank you, for showing me that it is okay to let others know about my feelings and how i feel towards others. I'm living a great life, with great love. And it would never be what it is now if it wasn't for the things you've taught me.

And as for you....

- ---- --- --, I'll eat you up.

Monday, March 8, 2010

My sincerest apologies.

This is #7, the latest typewriterpoetry. I have more than 7 poems in hand, it's just that, some I'm satisfied with and like them enough to call them complete. Others are just random ideas flying everywhere and I forced them together and its just a big piece of well...different brands of gum all pulled and kneaded together. I transform most of the poems into a digitalized version just incase anything happens to the original. This one though, I haven't gotten a chance to draw it out yet but thought I'd post it anyways cause I like it and it is recent. I'll post a drawn version of it later when I can sit down and draw it.

Does it ever happen to you, when you do things to someone and they look at you like you're just the weirdest person alive? And they just can't seem to understand that you did it cause you love them everything? This is what this is about. Hope you (imaginary follower) likes this.

kee.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

a typewriter trying to be poetic. a "poet" trying to be a typewriter.


This is my typewriter poetry blog, everything on this page (with a lot of exceptions) will be my quirky/ doesn't really make any sense/ this is boring I'm going to go make a sammich/ amateur grade 2 typewriter poems (promise most of this blog's content will be about typewriter poetry if I can help myself). You will notice that the poems aren't actually written on a typewriter. Unfortunately, I do not have a typewriter pet, so I try to make myself feel better by writing these poems within a drawn piece of paper coming out from the typewriter drawn on a piece of paper. Ermm...did that even make any sense? You will also notice that the typewriter poetry are numbered (not sure about future though). I don't give them titles because sometimes I can't think of good titles and thinking about it turns my head into a big scribble. Numbering them just keeps them in order.

This first typewriter poetry is #2. No, I don't feel like posting 1 or 3 or 4 or 5 and so on...I just felt like posting this one because it is not as personal.