Saturday, May 21, 2005

Percival, isn’t that a great name!? Perhaps that would be a good name for a butler! Though, I don’t think I would ever have a butler unless I was Batman, and in saying that, if I ever do become Batman, I will have to disappear and become a new identity because I just told you that I would never have a butler otherwise, so if you saw me with a butler, than you would know that I must be Batman… but that would never happen because Batman isn’t a woman, and I am not willing to change my identity THAT much, even to be Batman!

I was walking downtown the other day and came across some books outside for sale 50 c-$1. I am such a sucker for books, especially old ones. I managed to pick one up that was copywrited in 1898. I didn’t happen to notice at the time that the spine is flaking off, but it IS an old book, all the more reason for someone to use it again before it falls apart for good. The book is part of The Library of The World’s Best Literature as of 1898 (emphasis mine) and this book in particular is a collection of songs, hymns and lyrics. Here is a little snippet;

The end of The Nut-Brown Maid:

Here may ye se that women be
In love, meke, kynde, and stable:
Late never man reprove them than,
Or call them variable.
But rather, pray God that we may
To them be comfortable;
Which sometyme proveth such, as he loveth,
Yf they be charytable.
For syth men wolde that women shoulde
Be meke to them each one,
Moche more ought they to God obey,
And serve but hym alone.


Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staffe of faith to lean upon,
My scrip of joye – immortal diet-
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage;-
And thus I take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body’s balmer,
While my soul, like peaceful palmer,
Traveleth towards the land of heaven;
Other balm will not be given.

Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains,
There will I kiss
The bowle of blisse,
And drink mine everlasting fill
Upon every milken-hill:
My soul will be a-dry before;
But after that will thirst no more.
-Sir Walter Raleigh

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

dancing with myself oo ooo o o  Posted by Hello
takes extreme precisional effort to assemble Posted by Hello
illuminated mobile Posted by Hello
beautiful Posted by Hello
Don't you just want to jump into that? :D Posted by Hello

Monday, May 02, 2005

Dream spider
Spinning sparkling dream dust
Into webs for us to be caught in together
Spinning in every corner a new dream
Spinning busily
This is the bug that’s caught me
No matter where I turn
I run through a web of silken dreams
Am swept away as if I’ve stepped through a portal to another world
I go about my days with shimmering cob web in my hair
~Jen Boddaert

Despersit Superbus
Chanting echoes through the hollows of her fragmenting heart, a tumbled sanctuary
Peircing, moaning against the cold pillars of a tattered soul
Her eyes are meant for saline falls,
Her lips meant to taste tears,
Her hair meant to be swept about by storm winds,
Lost at sea drifting, bobbing in a stagnant fog
~Jen Boddaert

A dragon has swallowed the moon tonight.
It glows red from its belly
The ground is so hot tonight,
You have to keep moving or your toes will scorch
The dew dripping off the tree branches
sizzles as it hits the ground
~Jen Boddaert

This cup crahses into my head like a cannonball
It’s potency overwhelming me, helplessly
I flood into my bed to rest again
Thoughts overflowing, head pounding, shallow breathing
Leaving me to find oblivion
And I can’t stop drinking this brew,
It makes me fly high for a little while
So warm and sweet
Thinking it will carry me through the day
But it dizzies me with hollow hopes
It steers me to the ground
And I crash harder than I felt when I woke up this morning
And when will I fly with no risk of falling?
These bruises I keep making are holding me down
so restless to run and lift off the ground when will I finally soar
through ethereality?
My life stop adding up to ephemeral totalities?
I raise my cup to drink again,
And my toast is burnt with words of who cares?
Such is life; the rises and the falls, the struggle and fight
And the exhaustion that follows
But I’ve tasted a quenching cup before,
Perhaps I need to climb that mountain to get more
Perhaps I could fly there?
Always looking for an easier way up the stairs of the ziggurat
The answer is beyond myself
I can’t reach it without sacrificing the taste of the past
And how long will it take for me to let go?
I’m grasping at everything I can hold,
Trying to make it all mine,
It squashes through my hands like banana
I need to learn to enjoy the ride
I hate being alone
But I’m afraid to crash in front of you
And you’ll be scared away from the flames that consume me
Whem I’ve let my wounded heart collide into too many walls again
And I’ll be left alone amoung
The wreckage as before
To gather my self together
And I can’t stop sipping this saline stew
Eating these moulding words
That taste so fresh but make me sick
And I still feel your touch and my body aches
I can’t fly anymore
I'm wrestling with an angel,
Want to steal his wings
And that’s the greatest fall
There are no pomegranates in this desert
And I’m sick of sugary fruitcakes drowned in icing
It’s time to fast,
But my stomach is in pain,
I want a good meal to sustain me,
But that’s worth waiting past
Got to let my wings mend so I can fly again
Have to stop pulling my feathers out and wearing them…
Once I was an angel to someone
And I won’t be one again unless I learn to say goodbye
Unless I keep my head up high
Unless I rest in hands beyond my own
Stop searching below my real home
Some day I’ll find it in the sky.
~Jen Boddaert