birthday blues!

like silver paper,and makeshift paraffin,
where candy sticks dance,through parade costumes,
over hills of melted skies,and floating neon.
from here to there,
and maybe particularly no where,
these somehow seem to be a pattern,
of familiar reality.
as time goes by,
your eyes,they sparkle,
with precious childishness,
and incomplete perfection.
where would you be tomorrow,
maybe down this street,
with balloons in your hands,
tied to your finger,
maybe with flowers' in your pockets,
tucked away neatly like a secret,
maybe with butterflies in your hair,
nested natural,and sense of magic.
maybe with colors in your lips,
like magenta skin over mulberry wine,
maybe with black coins,
for dilated pupils and confused serenity.
maybe with luscious dreams,
like mirror reflection,
maybe with banjo playing,
like strumming guitar fingers.
maybe with poetic grace,
like poise delicate.
maybe with queen of hearts,
side by side,you and her.
maybe with self composed singularity,
like a moody vixen.
maybe you'll still be here,
just where you are right now,
still like you,
always like you,
"Effortlessly Éclat"

ok! let's go.

ha! now look at the new tasteful,
draped in silver and golden foul.
makeshit madona,drowsed in screenprint seclusion.
colorful signature,and masculine method.
making these waves inside heads of vermins and fellow beings,
where's the latest fad?
oh! wait did you say that there was a fire,
so who's heart are you burning now baby?.
can it be mine,or maybe sometimes it is,
how would you know,
can you distinguish this from them,
and can you tell that from those,
umm! wait a mintue,
you had me at hello,
and then we just never bothered to go back and connect.
funny how thoughts still linger,
some strange,some familair,
but never between us,
just with yesterday's lovers,
who become tomorrow's frightful
too much said,and little done,
through exodus nights
and capital makes a new gain in the stock market region.
oh! absurd that was,
but not inapproriate.
everything is just so blech,
and maybe we should rest for a while,
before our bodies gather familiarity,
maybe we should skim through thin air,
frolic and frills of magenta skirts,
polka dots of girly braids,
and her majesty is out of line,
the queen of hearts is just like yours.
but maybe a bit more brighter than usual,
or wait,did i mean it to be un-ususal.
either ways,it's allright,
i'll show you good time.
oh! relaxation and recreation,
procreation through whimsical daisy fields,
special freinds and forgotten memories,
sacred grounds of rituals and geisha charm,
are you walking towards me with anticipation,
or is it just me,
thinking about figurines behind close curtains,
a distan hum of some mechanical sort,
there seems to be a glich in this perfection,
ummm! maybe it's ok,
after all who better not to make sense,
than these odd days and fancy notations,
quote unqoute...elastic tendancies,
one plus one makes nothing more than two of us,
so what?
errm! ok.let's go,i guess i'm done.

synopsis of a radiohead.

But me/everybody else is around me.
This is not special,but i wish i was different.
Would you make me wonder why,
as the soft loop of days go by.
through hot plate dances
and cold face flushes
come on,come on,come one and then leave
maybe for once,this isnt just a bit of weird
but typical of something distant
as everywhere seems to be slipping,
the sands seems to collapse under my hands,
where heads seem to float,
through morning cold music,
on some warm fever glitch.
there's this sense of undying desolation,
amongst us?..i dont think so,
where do we being,that's where we might end.
sometime we may not understand,
but then i guess it's ok
we never did seem to find the holding for anything authentic,
what makes me wonder is nervous dead calm
as waves make a splash on your window sill
today morning seems to be much brighter than the last few lines above mentioned,
maybe it's becuause i must have sense a fear of everything.
falling cascades of desperate times,
coherence of truth is diluted
with candy sickles and ice pick melodies,
of tundra melodrama
and a turn of events mark the enter of the new century
so dissected the gold flower,
nailed to the sounding board across the room,
she's face to me,
and i'm not just in the mood.
for abnormal conversations and a jolly good time,
this is the kind of thing that makes me shy,
oh! where's the LED hum of electronic mascara,
hold up..please wait, before you open that door,
say goodbye and then stay.

have you made sense yet? have you sensed me yet? have you made me feel special yet? have you made me feel you yet..