The City up on the Hill

2011-10-03T08:31:00.001-07:00

<<<< Theatre Two >>>>

2011-03-31T23:56:00.000-07:00

approaching the city is likened to rushing open a blank page in which to write a fleeting revelation; for in seconds it will be lost if you don't.

you place your hands on your keys or grip the drying ink'd pen tight
and then in a moments pause, realize its gone,
is that awkward stare at the screen a failure of memory or the success of self-doubt stays you.

with nothing to add, you close the book, and hope that noone saw what may have been
another dream never to make its way into the light of right. now.

help me write my stories, and be there with a warm embrace
for i've come this far without you
and hated every step of the way.

<<<< Theatre One >>>>

2011-03-31T23:16:00.000-07:00

I used to sneak into the auditorium instead of going to first period every day
it had a back entrance that was very close to my next class. i could always sneak
out early on and not be noticed.

i'd throw open the doors, and as the light from the hallway died
it'd be quiet. and black.
i could see nothing.
the walls echoed the silence

while i was inside, i was free.
the lights were dimmed and the stage was empty
an ambient glow came from the steps and off the walls
and everything was in a state of pure potential.

i'd toss my backpack down, and just lie up next to it
the knots in my back would find a book or corner of a binder to
dig into and suppress the pain for a little while.

i'd just stare off into the darkness
realizing how many people sat in this theatre. clapped their hands to
the pompous stage of people begging to be seen lying in her own sweat
like a lazy couple refusing to get up after sex.

my paranoia that i'd be caught
or that this was the same place i had lay with another
would subside.
and i'd sit and be a viewer, nonchalant to the hush.

a show hadn't just ended
and this was no calm before the storm.

it was a tired place.

--------------------------

<<<< Weak Heart >>>>

2011-03-31T23:13:00.000-07:00

you put your feet on the brisk wooden floor
and allow your legs to stand up
and as she pulls on your half dressed garb
asking you to stay
you walk out the door
out into the same light that shines on the day the earth ends

you realize you were never with her to say goodbye in the first place
and you regret all the more,
over nothing you could have changed

--------------------------

<<<< Drive >>>>

2011-03-31T23:08:00.000-07:00

i dont know if it was the speed, the cold,
or that stranger i danced with
but something about this ride
couldnt stop me from trembling
as i peeled my hands off the wheel.

--------------------------

<<<< Corners >>>>

2011-03-31T19:28:00.000-07:00

all is calm in my place:
the home i've made out of
those cold corners we
paint outselves a sea of
quit further into.

where absence became my
easel for the choices
mankind was too frail
to make on their own,
i made this city.

without a moment's pause
i stepped into a forbidden
place that we each lock away,
and called you back to me.
your move.

--------------------------

<<<< Spindle 2 >>>>

2011-03-31T19:27:00.001-07:00

twice upon a thread, i'll slice it to lay waste to
those things we hold dear, and sew myself a
pretty thing worth showing the world.

with sinew, spider web, or a solemn heart,
take me Spindel, my hate and my curse,
and surround me with your dressings
of nothing but our worries

they'll keep me warm when nothing else will.

--------------------------

<<<< Looking >>>>

2011-03-31T19:27:00.000-07:00

I don't know what you're looking for.
But it certainly isn't me.

We'll be together again in the winter,
even for a second. It'll be enough.

You'll see the gifts we gave eachother
in a two word goodbye.

You'll be better for it all,
and i let you see your own way.

Because i know it wasn't mine.

And i took the low road.
The same road i always have.

I will walk this earth alone
one day when i have to.

And i'll go through the same things
that you are now.

and while you'll be stronger for it
i'll be fighting for it.

fighting for what you have.
as long as its not me.

--------------------------

<<<< Mistress >>>>

2011-03-07T21:19:00.000-08:00

she welcomes you in.
takes your coat with a half-hearted smile,
though she wants to mean it.

her place is a good-lit yellow
fit for warmer crowds, should she
ever choose company over meticulous ways.

a far-gone beauty she is,
and every second you spend beneath her
drives you further in to your own kind of
personal hell, as most anything you say
could upset the balance she's created for herself.

one wrong word, and it could mean your life.

you make your way through this sterile paradise
picking up on lost emotions peppered with a deja vu
only dreams can suffice, almost colder even as
the bright lights beat down on your clothing

and as you finally sit down
across from her: you lower your head
knowing as much as the two of you
could love eachother, to a frightly degree that
is unknown in this city on the hill.

you never could be happy with her.

--------------------------

<<<< Tardy >>>>

2011-02-18T22:28:00.000-08:00

Meaning, my old sister, my dreaded butcher

you call out to me, through digits and text

or voice, should you be so bold to seek me out.

In your mind, five minutes is all its going to take

for me to find you in these bright hallways.

But you know i won't be there.i cannot be there.

We're all leaving eachother behind somewhere

some on dry islands with no direction

some in damp rooms without taking the trash with us.

some on wet beds, where what strains were once warm

now cools. and chills you.

but those shivers are not physical.

they're living proof that we cannot exist without the friends

we abandon, either by choice, or ignorance, or

the iron clad self-preservation, stronger than the will it seeks to protect.

and shelter.

We will pass by eachother, and not say a thing.

We will call eachother, and leave messages of the cliché

"call me sometime. i'll be waiting"

because even when you forget that you are waiting,

you'll know that when i call, it's what you've been missing.

and the same goes for me in respects to you.

no amount of broken promises can break our wills.

or that mutual pull which becomes the only lifeline we know in the end.

you know....

the one we feel when you know the other is thinking of you.

and then we play it off like it was us who thought of it first.

and we feel shame, because we know its our fault.

doubly if we never act upon it.

or perhaps we both think of eachother at the same time.

how poetic would that be?

and our guilt is shared, like two cups sharing their contents

as two lovers exchange fluids, for that last brief time.

You'll say meet me by the tower in five minutes.

But i cannot be there.

I won't be there.

not yet.

if anything, i'll be tardy

--------------------------

<<<< Gifts >>>>

2011-02-18T22:27:00.000-08:00

I dont have to prove anything to you

i see your face in a window every time

i look in a mirror with keys and locks

i get no good feeling from knowing

you get yours; those good feelings

slep well my brothersister.

you'll wake up under a brighter sun

and forget that i was ever here.

and i'll wake up in my cold, that

i've so longed for

and forget that i was ever there..

its not a race for enlightenment, or happiness or

any of these things we seek in eachother; humans that is.

i dont turn my head for that home stretch just to see how

far ahead you are or i am.

part of living is starting to not care what happens to others.

sure, life is good, and life all around, happy lives, can be great

but in 70 years, we hope that the mechanisms we fight for today

will be at full speed working towards a better tomorrow.

because its our duty as living organisms?

why? we're not going to be around to see that day.

to make sure that our children's children arent murdered?

if you're going to raise kids, raise them well.

teach them how to be cautious, fast, streetsmart,

and above all else, teach them how to raise theirs.

after all, is it the gene pool we care about, or just ours?

the world could end in one hundred and fifty years. and none of us

none of us alive at this very moment, would know.

are we really busting our asses for some future we have, in fact,

no control over? just so we can die, knowing that we did good?

that we helped our fellow man, either today or in those tomorrowland?

that we'll be remembered, and have our name cut into marble steps

that we hope generations will walk over and on, being constantly

reminded of your name, your purpose and your game?

thats not the kind of immortality we need: not that we can

have any kind in the first place. if anything, immortal life is

knowing that i can wake up, and not worry about

striving to leave some kind of gift behind after i pass.

i'll take my morning coffee one way and one way only:

made by my love.

anything else that happens,

is just something to distract us from how often we

should stop and just breathe.

that within the volume of our lungs is a universe in itself,

and we hold our breath close, saving it for that very sigh

of relief when we change lanes without dying, or come,

or win a fight, or an argument, or when we know there is

nothing that can truly stop our love.

remember those people who were the victims of the DC sniper?

imagine how it must have felt....

to be filling up your gas, thinking that the world is a beautiful/

shitty place and how much we do(not) want to see our family at home.

and that you hope you have enough money on your card to pay for

all these gallons since your car has less gas mil-

*

and then its gone. and you dont even know it.

you can't react to it. you dont even have time for you to recognize

that you're dying. you wont come back as a ghost; there is no

lingering consciousness. there is no point at which you can look back

to this life and regret, or to wish you had just one more second.

if you do believe in spirits and souls, dont pretend for one second

that you'll have any recollection of this life.

if anything, it'll be a dream. some weird sense of deja vu.

that once, a long time ago, at this very place, you had a dream

of being a living human, whatever that word means. you had a name too...

whats a name?

thats not a gift i want... but to be stuck in one eternal thought,

is just some food for, ....well, thought.

speaking of food, i think i'm going to go for a drive.

you know, one of those really fast ones.

to slow music.

i'm on a quest to find my good jacket.the one with the deteriorating leather and the holes in the pockets.

and this quest is everything.

until i finish it, it is everything, and nothing exists outside of it.

after that... i think i'll try to find my love. she's somewhere.

i hope she reads this. and knows that my third eye finds it hard to draw itself away from her.

anyways, have a nice day, guys and gals.

as different as we all are, you're probably my friends.

seeing that this is facebook and whatnot.

but if a stranger does happen to find their way to it,

i'll find a way to meet you after i die. :P not.

--------------------------

<<<< Departure >>>>

2011-02-18T22:22:00.000-08:00

"I dont....no. I dont think there was a way.

er, sorry. /didnt/ think.

haha, well maybe there still isnt.

the walls of the city hold one so close, you almost
feel like you're choking in your mother's belly.

i have a better way. "

- young woman

--------------------------

<<<< Moan >>>>

2011-02-18T22:21:00.000-08:00

"my landscape is my mind
and with great machines i tear up the earth
displacing and distorting everything that i once believed.

once everything grows old, i speak to my people
and they obey
endlessly

as my machines obey

endlessly

i open the gates.

yet the ships in the harbor still lie frozen

the fog that envelopes the endless maze of roads, still remains

all that changes, is everything.
and its enough for now.

i'm sorry that where i come from is the city on the hill/

i cannot help who i am.

but perhaps, with enough time

and with enough dirt

i can sculpt a way out

to you once again"

- A brave woman. age 27. and she has what it takes.

--------------------------

<<<< Needs >>>>

2011-02-18T22:20:00.000-08:00

"I say goodbye to this. I am free. But i fear one thing upon my depature.
it was something my father told me

Sometimes escaping is not enough.

Sometimes you need to return.

i dont want him to be right. "

-the harmed twin

--------------------------

<<<< Pleasure >>>>

2011-02-18T22:17:00.000-08:00

Do you take pleasure in knowing things others dont?
of the lies you wove to manipulate countless situations to your betterment
...but could never tell anyone?

The day you were born, your twin existed here.
And she, or he, grew up. As you did.

For every foolish thing you write for someone to see, an infamous amount more lay hidden.
They need to be.
Or else someone might truly understand what it is you are.

When you visit the City on the Hill
IF you can find it in the mist
assuming you can find your way past the gates

The first person you shall meet there, waiting for you just beyond.
Is her.
Or him.

And she
or he
Will have always known everything. Every insecurity you hid,
every angry thought you had, yet covered up with a strong gut and a tight lip.
every perverted idea you had about fucking any number of strangers, or friends, or enemies
if you like it hot.
Every fear you ignored.
every lie you told
and especially every thing you ever wanted to say to destroy someone you hate or love or lust....

but didnt.

They will have known it all from the beginning. And you will /break/ when you meet her.
or him.
because few things are worse than being seen for what you truly are

human.

--------------------------

<<<< Fuck >>>>

2011-02-18T22:16:00.000-08:00

no inspiration to be had here
or found here
or mined from my head like boredom picking his nose

lights, machines, wood pulp and sound

i am nowhere to be had.

--------------------------

<<<< Basement >>>>

2011-02-18T22:15:00.000-08:00

I lost my head a while ago.
and i found my way down here

i can see your fire-lit face opposite me
your smile casting shadows on your thoughts

and your thoughts shedding light onto
everything it is about me that i

would take to gods hand and
rip apart this joke.

this farce.

im going back to ink. to fountain pens.
im going back to trash. to the dead. to steel.
to paint. to messes. to everything.

--------------------------

<<<< Return >>>>

2011-02-18T22:13:00.000-08:00

The city is no distant memory to me.

There are some who fight daily to convince their own selves that what they experienced,
was real at all. That what happened, happened once. And whats gone,

well. Its not here, to say the least.

There are those who will walk to the ocean, compelled by some lost feeling, and spin their minds into the waters. Hoping that underneath the surface, theres some truth amidst all the salt and ice.

There are those who cannot stop themselves from waking aside their mate in the hushed hours of the morning. They will walk by their children's rooms and yearn, and with wishing tears, cry and hope that their spawn and heirs will one day understand why they had to leave.
And then, in bare feet, they will walk out of their front door, and down the warm asphalt.

Then.... there are those who accumulate everything. Who hold their love, their money, their family, their life, so close to their hearts, with frightening proximity. And with every whim, they will gyre and wield it to only pervade their wishes. They will ultimately hate what they have. And they will still seek.

There have been stories of men who climbed to the tallest thing they could reach within two hundred miles. They climbed it. Somehow. And stood on top of its pinnacle and threw their arms up towards the sky.

I know of men who just kept on driving..... On their way home from work, on their paper route, to pick up their kids. They'll just keep on going. Perhaps when the car crumples with thirst, they'll walk the rest until the day the die.
Never to return to that place they thought they were headed.

I can show them the way.

What is the city on the hill?

Home.

--------------------------

<<<< Mornings >>>>

2011-02-18T22:05:00.000-08:00

How can i awake with a smiled sleep with closed eyes.

All just for this and I love it all.

--------------------------

<<<< Fields >>>>

2011-02-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

"I was a young man too once, running through the fields.

Not a single petal was hidden in the day.

Not a single inch of the sky wasn't mine.

And the sun never was as bright as my soul, for my will eclipsed even her.

And i always was pure.

The fields far in the valley were flawless in their own randomnimity.

In these days, i'd wake when I willed it so and slept when i was tired.

The peace was there, the chase was there, the hunt was there, the grass was there.
The lightbugs were there, as bright as the birds calls were pleasant.
And my lover was there.

She was there by my side. And she wasn't on the hill.

For years she and i would gaze utterly into eachothers eyes, as we slept together.

Me in her, and so close to her. And so warm.

For years we would walk the fields, swim in the streams, farm and hunt our own keep.

And then they built the city on the hill.
It went up in a night.

While we were sleeping. Without warning. Without a sound.

Instead of there being the distant place the sun would rest, there was the tower.

And no matter how far i travel, i seem to always be in its shadow, yet i have truly never been there.

With her, I can stay away."

- Wanderlust

--------------------------

<<<< Streetlight >>>>

2011-02-18T21:54:00.000-08:00

"I am the Rook.

I was born and raised in this city.

I'm a killer, yet i've taken not one life.

I feel my nature as the earth feels its gravitational urge.
I just dont know when.

The day these streets finally rain, and its gutters wash about everything that is right in this place, is the day i'll awaken.

So until then. I'm going to wait by this bright light. The moths keep my interest, and i in return keep them company.

Even they cannot avoid following the light, so why should it be any different with any man with the city on the hill?"

--the Rook. A chesspiece.

--------------------------

<<<< Planning >>>>

2011-02-18T21:51:00.000-08:00

"Lets face it: I'm not an architect.

I'm not some civil planner.

I never dabbled in the psyche, or what it is that makes us cry.

I'm simply a liar. and I built the city on the hill."

- Vahouzn

--------------------------

<<<< Tragic Men >>>>

2011-02-18T21:49:00.000-08:00

"I saw a man lying down in an alley
with his head buried in his hands.

Humming away to some fammiliar tune i heard on the radio many years ago.
Tears wet the scarred pavement beneath him.

I ask myself to this day:
what could a man have gone through to wear such an expression?

and then i think... perhaps he saw the city."

-- passerby

--------------------------

<<<< Loss >>>>

2011-02-18T21:47:00.000-08:00

"I've been in your arms before, you gentle thing. How comfortable are you this time?"

- the man with little to lose

--------------------------