a grand choppy sea

Seagulls pass over head
the meaty autumn breeze
stings as a slap
gritty cold sand between my feet

white foam flows
rocking softly to the shore
amongst the shells and pebbled rocks
wiping discretions clean

rest at ease these rocky shores
appease the passersby
extend a helping hand
take hold, take hold the water-chopped shores

leaving traces in sand
doesn't take long for time to take hold
and mend the placement in time.
displacing all constants

taking hold, taking hold
these green-blues splashing and swirling
revealing the tame grasping strength
that subtly hides in the ocean blue

but fear not the tide
nor the passersby with time
fret not this distorted sea
in due time, all will just be

bored

Water tower park
An icon of the Midwest
our backyard
a majestic play land
The sand pit of mystery

----------------------------------
Pacing on meat and potatoes
no core practice
distinguished one size fits all
brought sheer malice

indulgence in mass markets
silk lining and brass tacks
market of faith
sprauled out dreams

indolence set
lounge back

_________________________________________

forlorn the future
screams the commentor
beware powers that be
shouts the pundit

forsaken the poor
reads the prophet
by blood and faith
cries the redeeming son

____________________________________

hear no evil
see no evil
speak no evil
says the blind man?

drawing down time
like the eternal flower.
lies fed
overbearing narrations

fire and damnations
spouts from hell
beckoning fear
hope nowhere near

peddles dwindle down
it was written in sand
and as the tides come
it's washed anew

not quite sure

Darkness; meek irresistible deep dark abyss...
'tis all I ponder
all I've sought
what ales me so.

masochist motions forward
unknowingly so
into a trudging pit; despair.
never quite sure...
never quite through...

It's progress I suppose
on your own
do as you will
oh, the cadaverous broken soul

the butchered souls
the burning souls
the new souls
the old souls

The ghouls that haunt us,
sins behind closed doors
forever more, perpetual motion
inside the darkest depths
ready to blow...
__________________________________

"It's not necessarily that you are incorrect."
"Then what would I be? If not incorrect, I would be correct..."
"No, that's not it. I'm not talking about the core issue of right and wrong."
"Then what!?"
"If you allow me the pleasure of speaking, I shall tell you."
"ok... please, go on."
"It's in the issue of tact and no tact."
"tact?"
"yes, how you handle the situation. In which you are so gun-ho in proving yourself, you forget people are people. Yes, we will hurt other peoples feelings. That's not saying that you negate how you talk to people all together. You know?"
"Well if we deal with everyone like Childrean, we won't get anywhere."
"Not... not the point."
"Then what is your point?"
"That you can do as you wish... but tact and love is important."
"If we deal in just love, no one will ever change."
"Then do what you wish my friend."
"I guess this is the difference between a pacifist and my own opinion."

Random Thoughts.

There are so many ways we humans seek immortality. Alas, even our books have half lives upon the shelves. I suppose all we have is the now, the special and even dark infinite nows. Those times that last an eternity. The improbabilities in life... such as a girl dressing up in red shoes and nice dress for a date, a pretty thing or "sitting shiva" (it's a Jewish time for bereavement and grief) with a grieving friend.

Real event, exaggerated a tad.

The cutest little brunette came in, wearing a brown leather jacket no less. She was nervous and didn't know what to get. It appeared she wasn't going to walk in until I said something and she noticed me, this could be a lie to myself but... I'll keep it that way. She came up and ordered a coffee. "Just a black coffee?" I asked as I prepped up the 16 oz. cup. I added, "it's a bit strong."

She thought for a second and mentioned real quick, "I'll sip it." She picked up the cup really fast and took a sip. "It's great!", she said. The coffee is $1.48 and she gave me a $5.00 bill. I exchanged the change she had. I told her to have a great day and enjoy her coffee. She perked right up and said, "You too!" very excited. I fell in love.

Not quite sure...

Another sample:

Baths were far more of a commonality for me when I was younger, I feel that is the same for anyone. There is the opinion of if you can do it sitting, you might as well... showers just seem so much more grown up in my mind. In the past few years, they have started to become more frequent but only under situations of stress or when in need of relief. I believe this is a trait I picked up from my last ex-girlfriend who when ever noticing I was under a great deal of struggle or strife would bring up a bath for me. Leave in some music and a book, just let me be with some tea. One of the few things I gained of positive strength from then. Which is another story...

I digress, in my younger days I read a bit on alchemy and like most things. It became full circle, years later reading up on more alchemy. It was the start of chemistry, so why not. In the mean time though, I read much of religions around the world... theologies to a great extent. Which engulf almost all of my time. To understand religion one must know philosophy and history. The effects are great and useless to just know one or the other. They all balance one another to bring us closer to understanding. This was before I knew a deeper truth.

I find myself at a point, sitting in a tub where I grew up. Relaxing after working and reading for the day. Previously in the day I learned that not only did a psychologist Carl Jung study alchemy, he used it in comparing to psychology itself. Many things in history can be linked to alchemy. Even Christianity, Thomas Aquinas studied alchemy. Issac Newton spent more time on alchemical research than physics. Islam, Buddhist, Hinduism... all have past relations to the elixir of life, the philosophers stone, lapis... pursuits of eternal life and immortality. Searching for deconstructions of elements to bring them back together once again into another, better material. Through equal exchange or the ability to create through other nonequivalent means. Through perhaps some great work from within ourselves, humanity.

Reaching no true or realistic end point for thought. I put my head under the tub water, not hoping for anything but to clear my mind with a glazed vision through the tub water. As I feel the water settle, I hear everything around me... clearer. Music gently playing, cellphone buzzing, heater kicking on, the house moving and water rustling. I can slightly hear the train about half a mile from my home. Passing over the tracks going to who knows where... and I wonder, if anyone is on there... if they can sense me sitting still as my mind moves in awe and wonder of what the hell is going on.

In that strange moment, I have some hope and inclination that we are all connected and necessary. Needed, though built with the same compounding elements and spitting image of whatever God or gods created us. Unique, necessary, normal, ordinary and all together complexly tied and bound to something I'll never quite get.

Whilst at work

Though we long for the heavens
we dig for the underworld
opening pandora's box
confusing I & Though
for sustaining self-satisfactions
and the moment...
seeming all to trivial.

OH! the ticking of time
the work & mystery
all that can be seen
the heart that can mend anew
and change being ever constant

Continue seeking the Heavens...
Continue seeking...

_______________________________________________

There's better ways to bide your time
then to look back and see your lost years
lack a sense of empathy
wrap yourself in apathy, unless it's for yourself.

Bring dramatics to this place
I don't care to run that race
pull away from that void
I feel comfy here in my own space

I'm sorry never cut it
miscommunication was rubbish every time
my throat was cut long ago
inevitable to end, complacency kept us here

_________________________________________________

It's the opposite of apathy
when taking matters for yourself
What takes presidence today
is the worry you've gained.

Written by: Kristoffer Denoyer

I've been working on a novel

This is just part... since I'm awaiting, NaNoWriMo to start... more information at http://www.nanowrimo.com

This is part of the narrative from the main character... needs editing, lots of editing!
___________________________________________________

You know those days where, you just ignore calls, texts, facebook messages, instant messages and if you can, someone at your door? I've been in one of those moods lately where all I do is go to work and come home to eat some food. The biggest thing I did this week was get a chai latte w/soy as I was grocery shopping. Also, it has not been just a day. More accurately, about a week it's been. My phone is ringing right now, I can hear it from underneath something in the room. It's been so long I can't quite remember where I left it sit. There can be a million and one reasons I decided to lock myself up, but none of them were to write. None of that has gotten done this week, I've watched more old Nickelodeon cartoons this week. Which was a lot of ''Angry Beavers.'
'
Part of me wishes I was locking myself up to write in this long extended period. A writer Chuck Palahniuk wrote in his book ''Stranger than Fiction'' that a writer goes between being very outgoing and public to just not. Going between loneliness of writing, making the work all you know. Until you are finished and go right back outside again to meet more people, finding more stories to form into something. I love this, it just was never me. I had to be in it and around people while I wrote. It's not like I would forget or something, it was more of a journal. Later on I form a song or poem, from time to time a short story. Everyone around gave the right push or right idea to get the ''juices'' flowing in the proper direction.

Which brings my thoughts to another writer I love. I find some strange connection between that idea of locking yourself into how John Green discusses how writing for him can losing himself in nostalgia. He brings up a quote by Emily Dickinson, "Success is counted sweetest/ by those who ne'er succeed." It was during a time he was visiting his ole stomping grounds at his boarding school, he even wrote about it in ''Looking for Alaska.'' This smoking hole everyone used to smoke at, it was passed down to the different students along the way. When he arrived he found no cigarette butts there, so first thinking, ''maybe no one smokes anymore, that would be great.'' A thought came in of, 'What if no one remembers this place. Perhaps the spot that was supposed to be a legacy is gone to be left and never remembered.' He looked up to see that Dickinson quote ''graffiti'' on the wall from a few years previous to his visit. Giving him hope and losing himself in thinking this place is not lost. It will be remembered. The legacy of his and who he knew will be remembered for years to come. As if that moment will be shared like liturgy is shared throughout time. The past, future and present will be enjoying the glory of the smoking hole together into infinity. Going far, but it's what we hope for in our pursuits to leave something behind. In Greens' height of nostalgia, gets stung by a bee. He relates this later on to writing. Most of his moments are real, like Palahniuks' stuff some basis to it is realistic to begin with. Green discusses how when he writes he cannot be taken out of his stories by a bee sting and that his past can be remembered in that way. That perhaps being young is sweetest from those who are no longer young. Even in it's despair and pain, it's different in the eyes of those grown. Writing about it is the only thing that keeps it real... "Youth is counted sweetest by those who are no longer young.", Green. No broken glass on the ground I cut my foot on when swimming in the river with my friends.

Perhaps that's what these weeks are for, a reset in nostalgia... (where ever I feel like going with that... leave it for later.)