Grand

On the road, going home, I was thinking again.

Thinking about what to compare her to, and just before I gave up again, I found it.



And it was something new, because as we all know, everybody's had enough about the stars, the sunrise and the sunsets,
not that they aren't grand anymore, it's just that it's now way too cliche.

Also that if I had to compare her to something, it must be known, must be extremely captivating, yet at the same time, new and related to the current situation.


That's about enough drumroll, eh?

[Director]
You're on in 3, 2, 1, and Action!

[Actor]
At the question "Why am I doing this?", I find myself clueless.

"Why do I bother writing, when you won't even get to see them?"
Perhaps, at the very minute chance that this gets to you somehow.

Or maybe because I'm doing every single thing I can, that I think would help draw you closer.


I'm hunting down the songs, one by one, taking the highlights of their grandeur and offering them to you.


Here's where I tell you what I've compared you too.


I'm a striving artist. Trying to draw, paint, sing, and play.

And at the sight of you,
An august Sculpture that God made a little bit short of perfect,
I drop my words and melody,
Let go of the chisel and the colors I held dear.

At the thought of you,
I wonder how any pattern, how any 3 minute song could possibly suffice for you.



What could I possibly add to this Mona Lisa to make her more beautiful when the whole world is already in awe?

The one's helping me out expect me to dress you up in colors, clothes of words, carefully weaved.
But they don't see that my hands are trembling, and that I'm really terribly wondering if you actually would give the slightest bit of appreciation for those.


Seeing as I don't want to have another failed attempt, due to a broken approach,

I find my world colorless.

Cut!

[Director]
Well that was a good enough take.
Clean up, hurry up and ready for the next scene.


[Cameraman's thoughts]
Oh boss,
you're just like her.

You're so clueless.

Your actor is your character, this is his storyline, but please do help him have a happy ending.

You do get to have an influence on her.



____________________________________________________________________

Another play of a play.

Still ingenius, contrary to the fact that it has been used before.

If only the setting and the situation was easy to set-up.

____________________________________________________________________

When you're doing all that you can do,
But now all you can do is hope she sees this too,
Now what could put off this relentless thoughts on her?

For once there is an answer. And it's this:

You know can't. Since now she's become the very base from which your character now stands.

Cutting back on drama was easier said than done.
When all you can be is honest but honest is just too strong of an approach,

You dress him up, spin him around, and let him crawl his way up to her.

Maybe that would've given him enough time to be more presentable.

What more can I say?

I've started these things with
"Let's , I'm, I feel, You, Today, I want to, You know, You see?, So this is.."

How do I bring back glory to the old words?

Let's play this a little bit more lightly.

Less drama, same amount of you or even more if possible.

:))


I'm so tired of my iTunes.
This one's gonna be like a blog I can post in Multiply.
Cheerful, at least that's the idea.


I'm tired of having this 50-30-20 ratio
50 Percent Talk
30 Percent Do
20 Percent Someone Different


All you see is the 70.
I wanna show you the 30.


I wanna do drama.
Haha, bear with me.

I've been itching to write.
Here we go.


When you thought only sunsets and storm clouds
Could make me smile,

That only sunrise and windchimes
Would make me fine,

That only the nightsky sprinkled with stars
Could stop time,

That only full moons and noon time gloom
Would make me write,

That only poems and very long song titles
Could make me sing,

That only silence and sceneries
Would make me prose,

___
Cut!|

Further drama:

That these lines would go on forever
Because of the current new found "New found drama "
An abuse of freeverse.

I know you don't have the will to read everything until here,
but..yeah.

I'm not sure how I can put this shortly. Sorry.

You know what I want to say. You know all the ways I can say it.

It's just that, I really don't like cliche.
But if you want some, I can accommodate the current mood.

blah. :))

Oh I'm so shy.

Why hello,
This one's all for you.

And I guess, the reason why I'm terribly and hopelessly, shy, quiet, silent, untalkative, awkward, stuttering, different, or any other adjective you could think of describing my helplessness,
Is that you have the most stunning smile my eyes have ever seen.

Most of your friends, those whom I still haven't cleared things up with still think that I'm a shy person.

=))
First time I ever used an emoticon here.=))
Oh look, the second as well.

It's not that I'm addicted to drama, maybe it's just that I'm used to writing the lines, and having you see them.


For this part, I quote Risque-Cute is what we aim for.

"I'm obsessed and stressed in this mess and I can't think of things,
to write down, to type down.
And these fingertips are moving faster than these lips now.
So you can only imagine how jealous my mouth is."

Thinking what how you may do, hearing such words, well, the suspense and the risk just leaves me silent.


Now, I'm Doing Everything For You - The Rocket Summer

"Please pick me I'm a terrible mess
You know I just can't help it and I just gotta confess
You do what you do and I can't ever rest"

Just to let you know, it's not as easy as it always is with others, saying hello to you. Blame it on yourself. You aren't meant to be here.

For this, 1000 Things - Jason Mraz

"And I've, well I've seen a thousand things in one place
But I stopped my counting when I saw your face
Erasing memory, well I feel as though I've never seen a face before
Until I saw your eyes
And they're smiling back at me through my tears
I've been counting all these years, oh
Suddenly the thousand things I've seen were nothing more than dreams of
Of you and me"

I could go on and on,

Sunsets and Car Crashes - The Spill Canvas
"You are like sunset to me, you're all kinds of beautiful as you end my day and you'll sweetly retire as the stars chase you away."
If the Moon fell down Tonight - Chase Coy
"Everytime I see your smile it makes my heart beat fast"
Broken - Lifehouse
"I'm hanging on To another day, Just to see what, You will throw my way"

She's got Style - Nevershoutnever

"Your presence isn't what kills me,
it's that artistic gleam
that's taking over my scenery,
dream by dream."

A Lack of Color - Death Cab for Cutie
"This is fact not fiction For the first time in years all the girls in every girlie magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone I'm reaching for the phone"

There're so many things to say, so little chances to say them. I'm only trying my best to make sure they slide to your ears at the right time. Chances are that I won't be able to make it on time, either too early or too late.

I know a normal conversation isn't too much to ask. I admit I went wrong there. I gotta fix this up.



A friend asked me what I was looking for.
Now I know.
Someone who could make me sing "These are the nights" - Making April


"..They say it's all about the wordplay"

Envy and many more

I'd like to start this one with that word: "Envy."
That's how I felt; envious.

Envious of those old people with much wisdom attained. With their age comes the vast number of experiences. With those experiences comes the people. With all of this put together, they've attained respect and the attention of those who would lend an ear.

I guess I envy that one old man, because he has changed thousands of lives. He's still doing it. Through the direction of plays that deeply move you. That inspire you. That eliminates the fiction in acting.

I envy him because he's been changing lives, through changing minds and hearts. I've the same voice. The only differences are that; his is louder, his is stronger, his is more persuading, and that his is louder. He is given the opportunity to be heard, through his theatre.

I like his words, they.. provoke ripples.
"A poem is like a pebble dropped in the well of your mind, it creates ripples depending on how wide your mind is."

In my case, well, there aren't any blocks that surround the waters, the ripples never stop.

I envy him because he is eloquent, spontaneously speaking on any topic. While I don't know how many times I've pressed backspace in this composition.

I envy him because he is doing what he wants to do, what he's been moved to do. And he is succeeding with each mind and heart he convinces.

I envy him because he's still succeeding.

I envy him, simply because he's able to make me envious of him.

I envy him, because he is close to Him.



Now we move on to the "And Many More.." part.
When the most beautiful girl asked the lead actor, "Does it hurt , acting?"
He didn't spill a word, couldn't even barely look at her, but he nodded.
Then another provoking question came, "Then why do you do it?"
The actor, looked at her this time, and hands towards the crucifix on the wall in front of the stage, "Because!"

Silence broke the momentum. Then that old man says, "The crucifix is for the actors, and they do it all because they find purpose in it. And something to ask yourselves tonight is if you have your purpose too."

At this story, I smiled. These are the kinds of words that I've been wanting to write, to say.
Sadly, my tongue isn't as sharp-cut as my words. It's too shy, too humble to speak out.
Even if it did say its thoughts, who would care to listen? Afterall, he's just really young isn't he?
He's just another boy, thinking he's a man, isn't he? He's just another trying-to-be-noble soul out there, isn't he? He's just another kid, isn't he?

But, at the slightest possible chance that he isn't Just a kid, not just another one of those who come along everyday, that he is the epitome of rarity, I would listen to him. Anyway, no matter what the odds are, they're still odds. And that there's still a chance, no matter how unlikely it is.

T O M I S S W H A T A G R E A T M I N D W O U L D S A Y C O U L D N'T P O S S I B L Y P R O F I T Y O U I N A N Y W A Y.

It's more often than not, easier to listen than to read. But what's written can always be read again, apparently, what's been said cannot always be heard again.


I'm a hypocrite for saying that I don't like reading long stories, and expecting you to read them. Especially because I wrote some of them.


The loss of a person's individuality, his character that defines him as he, how he is remembered and known, how his tale will be told, is my biggest fear. It's probably because, I won't be seen as an individual, but as merely a guy in the crowd. A person, void of voice.

And many more continues a long lot, but I won't fit them all at one time, that'll be too much.

My mouth is envious of my fingertips that merely spun these words out and have wrote down the script. It's envious because these fingertips don't have to be seen doing so. While he has to be brave and fight all threats that come after his part. That's why, more often than not, he simply relates with matters that aren't of great consequences. This in turn, causes no conflicts nor provokes no harsh words, but attracts those who do not want to be stirred. But every so often, they don't know, he's slipping some words into their ears.



The next one'll be all about you.

Hello

I won't go so far as to say your name, but you're too humble to assume this is you.
So perhaps from all the lines that this inadequately descriptive words have made, there were only a few that've "hit the spot."

And by "hitting the spot", I meant that they have someway somehow managed to rob you of time on earth by stealing a few heartbeats, making it overdue earlier than He had planned it to be.

So you've reassured me that conversation wasn't as awkward as it had been, and at the moment, it had become quite interesting.

As I almost gave up on words, you've made me to cling on to them once more. Again and again, I find myself asking you to give me meaning to write. In a way, you could see it as I have been making a play, actors, being we. Plot, spontaneous because unfortunately, the Writer couldn't control His actors in any way. He had but the power to sprout the plants from seeds. To keep the stars, burning bright. To heal the actors when in time of need, to be an ear, always listening. Sadly, he could not force unto them the "Script" that he had made. An apple had been eaten, sizzling an actor's tongue and instilling in him what we have come to call "humanity" .

I guess that's one way to put the story of our play.

So ask me to find more rhymes,
As to make less unsettling lines.


Forgive me, I've used up some words a while back.

Oh them hearts.

Out of the blue,
I came across you,
Then I found another verse,
In a song that was true.

I've lost count of the lines with the "you" in them, but I haven't lost the meaning each time I read them.

Oh heart and love,
You're perhaps the two most misunderstood words. But you can't blame us, we're too clumsy with our bullets that we call words, hitting a lot of people we didn't mean to hit.

I'll list down some of the colorful ways I've tried to capture your meaning another day.
Adieu.

Tasty words

First of all, Beautiful, it took a lot of holding back for me not to talk to you.
I just had to let that out, hopefully, now you'd initiate the wordplay.


Goodbye Blues.
Hopefully I can make your final song.
I'm kicking you out, I've packed your memories,
Here's the door.

Bitter songs never seem more perfect than in nights wherein you seem to have lost it. Nights that have left you writing those lines to the memories that betray your smile. Songs with the lines "for what it's worth..", "Thanks for the memories..", "And I thought we could..", and thousands more.

Moving on.

I simply don't like rainy days. I like my days bright and sunny. I don't mind drizzling, but please dear dark heavy clouds, don't take away her rays. You shut me down with your cold presence and enormous shadows.

Let's put it this way, you're taking away what gives me reason to live a life with meaning. You're toying with hopes. Empowering the melancholic mood, as you anger the wind's gentle whispers. You taint my bright blue skies with your dull gray cloak, my orange warmth with your colorless droplets of cold.

Dear you, your personality is ever so tantalizing.


A raindrops hitting surface creates a soft sound, not at all annoying. It's the repetitiveness of it that kills me. Distracting my awareness, taunting it to let go of what it was previously preoccupied with. Well, anything that's too repetitive slowly takes away the beauty of itself. The daily habits shred the excitment and the color of your days. Slowly fading its colors away until all you see is gray.

The angels are never forgotten, they've been whispering. My inside source says..
Angels that have fallen have been judged as unwanted, the inverse of the asthete. Does the name Lucy ring any bells? What happens to the have merely tripped, unintentionally? Hopefully they don't end up as instantaneously prejudiced angels. Perhaps they are given a chance to remove the prejudice, a chance to look for their wings again and fly back. Lent a few years, just to see what them angels really are without their blindfolds to keep their emotions in check. By the way, democracy doesn't work here, you can't win your freedom by inadequate judgment from your equals, there's a bigger guy in play here, hopefully there is.

He ended there, but what another guy said to me still bothers me. He said, it was alright for him to go wherever, if there was that destination to go to. Hopefully we don't eternally close our eyes and stay in these hollow shells capable of nothing more than what these weak hearts can manage. I want to be able to feel the things in my dreams, I want to exist there and last there.


Just a random thought before I end, I admire Lois Lowry for her ability to describe a person seeing colors without using the word. To describe something more without being able to show that something more. Grasp what is unreachable. Simply amazing. Now that's something possibly breathtaking.


On a lighter tone,
Cute is what we aim for is still awesome. The song Risque which was previously known as Crush is just too sweet. For whoever be the "you", this one's for "you."