tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19505484473333218752024-03-07T21:58:03.748-08:00Wake up earthling, wake up!Ian Chamberlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11039613202918561205noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1950548447333321875.post-68117823333563771162009-04-09T14:32:00.000-07:002009-04-09T14:41:45.166-07:00Untitled<div style="text-align: center;">Untitled.<br />by: Ian Chamberlin<br /><br />You fool.<br />Look out below!<br />Before you fall again…<br />You get pulled up by your puppet strings<br />but they’re easily tangled<br />by a strong wind from a kiss blown in your direction.<br />And no, these words won’t change things,<br />your eyes will still avoid that awkward contact…<br />What was once the world is now a self destructing sore that comes and goes.<br />And even now, after everything<br />good, bad, and ugly,<br />you sit and think of what was and what could have been…<br />silently ripping away at the void in your stomach that the butterflies once occupied.<br />This mess of a mountain she’s left is unbelievably difficult to venture over.<br />And even when you feel you’re close to the top,<br />she's there to relieve your fingers of that hope of a ledge that they cling to,<br />and you fall back into that deep hole.<br />The net of music and friends will bounce you back up…<br />But you’ll still be scaling the side of the mountain,<br />unable to let go…<br /></div>Ian Chamberlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11039613202918561205noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1950548447333321875.post-1552717031781035322009-04-03T14:37:00.000-07:002009-04-03T14:39:11.096-07:00Eurphoria<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">The bitter smell of<br />spray paint,<br /><br />early on a spring morning.<br /><br />Artistic perspectives of biblical scenes.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">This all leads to<br />late nights,<br /><br />tainted with the stench of energy<br /><br />and the sounds of elephants on roof tops.<br /><br />We sneak around like agents on a mission.<br /><br />We recreate epic battles between neighboring castles.<br /><br />Odd misplaced characters wage wars<br /><br />for reasons unknown to them<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Their lives being<br />hurtled into<br /><br />broken pieces, which inflict pain upon the opposed.<br /><br />No battle wounds yet,<br /><br />just the stinging of the fragments.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Most of this is<br />because of an old friend who still remains<br /><br />with more history now then ever.<br /><br />Fueling us with things we need not consume<br /><br />for these events to take place.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Fighting for no<br />reason but our own sick pleasure.<br /><br />Up and down on staircases.<br /><br />Swords flying through the air.<br /><br />Piercing screams behind us.<br /><br />The flashing lights of arcades have blinded us,<br /><br />and now the sun sets in the distance.<br /><br />With the soundtrack of the ocean,<br /><br />we wage war in public<br /><br />and no one says a thing.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Tongues stained with<br />remnants of the night.<br /><br />Brains gone completely numb.<br /><br />The Aztec deity watches over us as we journey home.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">As we return,<br /><br />no one speaks.<br /><br />We just listen.<br /><br />Our broken, battered vessel flies down dark,<br /><br />unwanted,<br /><br />crowded,<br /><br />paths to our sanctuary.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">More Wars being<br />fueled<br /><br />this time by small armies of<br /><br />fantastic and strange creatures.<br /><br />We have fallen into their trap.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">This place is<br />strange,<br /><br />but we feel at home.<br /><br />We sit comfortably.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Portraits and statues<br /><br />of ancient gods.<br /><br />Some still thriving.<br /><br />Some dead and gone.<br /><br />Yet their legend lives on<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">We are too filled and<br />fueled by adrenaline to sleep.<br /><br />The collection of monsters does nothing for it.<br /><br />The broken ship is not ready for another journey,<br /><br />but we leave anyway.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">A much shorter<br />journey is taken<br /><br />through tunnels of light and sound.<br /><br />Again we listen, but not as much.<br /><br />There is always much more dialogue<br /><br />between us on these shorter journeys.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">As we arrive at our<br />destination,<br /><br />we ask ourselves, even now, even before then:<br /><br />“Why do we come here?”<br /><br />Though we all know the answer:<br /><br />it is a pointless journey<br /><br />simply to cause hell in the simple lives<br /><br />of these mutated and nocturnal beings<br /><br />that dwell here overnight.<br /><br />The rulers of this atrocious land only allow them<br /><br />to come out at night,<br /><br />to go against their nature,<br /><br />forced to become creatures of the night.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Through empty<br />corridors we walk.<br /><br />Beams of light,<br /><br />Fantastic creatures,<br /><br />heroes, Villains,<br /><br />all being moved by the mutants attacking us.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Throughout our<br />journey,<br /><br />we come across an idol,<br /><br />wielding his weapon of choice.<br /><br />He keeps this place as holy and clean as he possibly can.<br /><br />Still searching to see him again,<br /><br />we fear he has been replaced.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">On our returning<br />voyage,<br /><br />home for the night,<br /><br />we speak of past times and recent events.<br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" align="center">Once home again,<br /><br />we dazzle our eyes with moving pictures.<br /><br />Some we control,<br /><br />some we cannot.<br /><br />They are timeless.<br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">We do not sleep.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">We never sleep.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Not on nights like these.</span></div>Ian Chamberlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11039613202918561205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1950548447333321875.post-42403366300326532492009-04-03T14:26:00.000-07:002009-04-03T14:35:18.183-07:00Perfect Sense<p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">And so the story ends.<br /><br />Shattered and broken at the base of the tree.<br /><br />Into the soil it sinks over time.</p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Still later, it is absorbed.<br /><br />Up through the roots.<br /><br />Up through the memories,<br /><br />both good and bad.<br /><br />The scent of red raspberry<br /><br />and cheap perfume hold on tightly.<br /><br />Small sparks going off now and then<br /><br />making you just sink.<br /><br />And looking back,<br /><br />all there is to say is:<br /><br />“What happened?”</p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Digging out old albums<br /><br />self titled, non-manufactured.<br /><br />select tracks setting off explosions<br /><br />of card games and foreigners.<br /><br />Inspirational films that no one enjoys.<br /><br />Dragging out scenes of ocean waves,<br /><br />rippling planes of water.<br /><br />Good times with horrible people.</p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">Far off in late night<br /><br />phone conversations.<br /><br />A revolutionary room.<br /><br />No longer in the time zone,<br /><br />once more, you remember.</p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">A birthday party,<br /><br />a life changing night.<br /><br />These posters tear you up.<br /><br />You want to go back.<br /><br />You NEED to go back.<br /><br />There’s nothing you can do.</p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></div><p style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">The good days,<br /><br />when things were new,<br /><br />and friends were getting closer.<br /><br />All gone in a flash.<br /><br />All pushed to the side of the car.<br /><br />The goblet never spills.<br /><br />It will always hold it’s contents,<br /><br />as long as you can remember the night.<br /><br />Listening to music you hate,<br /><br />with people you love.<br /><br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Every one out of the pool.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />No more swimming.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />The glasses are broken.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />The smoke is gone.</span><br /><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />And you miss it terribly.</span></div>Ian Chamberlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11039613202918561205noreply@blogger.com1