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neo_thematrix
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Name: Jocelyn
Gender: Female
Interests: amish, art, ballet, bible, butterflys, celtic, choir, countryside, drawing, dreams, earth, england, europe, eyes, fairytales, faries, french, fruit, gardens, gates, God, handwriting, Holy Spirit, ireland, letters, Martin luther, meadows, meat, music, oak trees, old bulidings, painting, reading, scotland, sign language, thoughts, vegetables, water, wilderness, wildflowers, William Wallace, wind, wings, writing.
Expertise: I do not want to praise myself :/ :p
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  ScotlandRocks134
Member Since:
9/15/2004
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http://seventh-stage.livejournal.com/
There I'm making some icons, check it out now funk show bruddah.  | | |
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rain drops are falling from the misty sky
creating sounds of their depatures
hitting the ground in a washing away
the lines that frame such high born mountians
as I sit far off by this small concrete wall,
to the spilling of a short railed off field
that they cut down each month so the grass never fully grows
and the rumps of them spong on my shoes
that are wet from the dewy grass
As I sit, the cars pass behind me on this bridge
I'm on another bridge and can view the cars turning up from the other bridge
which underneath in small rains make streams, which flowing past the high walls of taggers and flouresent colours
the crooks of trees makes lines in the skies thick and misty from clouds
the rain is coming
I can almost have it come my nose
which means I should hurry soon
but I sat a while to test the limits of time
now the sun is piercing the sky ahead of me as it is almost swollowed by the spread of dark formidable cloud
making them lace with it's light
for now I am silenced and sober
and the creation around me tells the old story of Truth
for the nakedness of Truth forms to something more then overexpressed beautiful.
It's the beauty we all try to defile into pretty things
the
beauty we mark down and try to capture through images other than the
words still telling and explaining the reasons about the images
I remember that I am not a lone
and my single thought thoughts are whisping away from their existence
in comes solid words
and these words are not my own
nor anyone on this earth
so the rain is coming and I shift over and off to the spiral sloping sidewalk
and swape back over the the dewy wet grass
and look down the tall slope to the underneath
where I'd imagine a troll would rest near it's coloums
mumbling and thinking of painting over the taggers tags, wishing the birds would not be so frighted by his presence
the the rain would come to fill up the stream he so lives by
so the birds will come a take delight
and he would see the tags gone and the selfishness dissolve not like the cover of something blank
like he could wash off the bold tags and signs of a drugged intoxicated culture
but he knows that all he can do is wade by the stream acoming
for his ways of life
are no longer blank or covered over by blankness of mind
I now must cross over the rail that is just my hight
bring the other leg over and walk with the felling of hands in pockets
crossing a crosswalk
voewing the misted moauntinas in their raining blue attire
the sun is moving and goind
and so must I
pass the few cars
walk pass the fewer people
under the concrete high, and large bridge now
and before the sun sets and the city lights block on the natrual cover of night and moon
I head over to the next set of crosswalks
take up my feet and now stand over to the sides of long slips of sidewalk
turn around
and stand
a say goodnight the the bold kings of this world
those mountains | | |
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Why, hello old friend
"Driving, driving in your car."
So
far this is my theory: When I’m in school, I want out of it. While I am
out of school, I want to be back in it. I told mother that one night,
she chuckled at me, and then returned to her show.
I have let this
break go down stream, wasted with the many nights of restlessness. I
can’t set my mind to rest, while in the day its recklessness turns to
mush. Only till this night have I felt enthusiasm for tomorrow. I don’t
have to worry about the simple anymore.
Today, the sky was seen
heavy with rain clouds- you know we deserve it. It can’t be this green
for no reason. I am hoping it clears so I can set out for the park
tomorrow.
The park, the only sweet place of green, where people
from the close surrounding neighborhood can come walk their dogs or
play a game of basketball. Up the hill of tall growing grass and
shadowy trees, there is a chain linked fence. It’s broken, but not
rusted. It says “No Trespassing” in the classic red and white sign.
When
my cousins were here, we all walked all our families. It was calm…
until. Ian is four years old; he is a small little boy with curl locks
of brown hair that springs back into place-like all the curly hair I
know. Tiny hands grabbing my neck tightly and little boots. Childhood
is so funny that way. He can’t walk more than a mile, then the wailing
envelopes and it continues until I pick him up and give him the
‘deserved’ piggyback ride. Aunt Christine says he’ll never learn while
I say I’d rather keep the persistent wailing away. She smiled without
opening her mouth. He the gives off a childish bouncy smile and in a
glaze an accomplished glee overcomes his eyes.
I could see the sun
so dapple the rocky ground like it was made to do. The afternoon sun
illuminates the overgrown leafs and purple morning-glory in a clear
brush, they’ll climb up the trees and rush back into the brush. There
is such a soft light that comes off from them, overtime I see it, the
warm green glow makes me think of summer- when I curled up in that
netted up hammock and stared steadily into the blue sky. When time
wasn’t consumed by the dark thoughts of a cruel world that try to crowd
my mind, is that- just that. The thick maple trees created soft shade;
the sun was friendly then when I was visiting; just visiting. It was
showing how it could make the leaves have shadows of other leaves-
growing and steady.
Like I wish my character could be, but I’m
selfish and foolish with time. God’s doing something, I can’t
understand it, but that’s alright. It’s alright.
Now, it takes me
two hours by foot to get to the park, its funny how those memories
stick with me and how they come. Then, it turns cold. My cousins won’t
be tumbling along and exploring the logs and trees. My Father won’t be
out with his Indiana Jones hat strolling with them – “with a purpose,
walk with a purpose.”
Now it seems formidable walking it alone; I’d be too drifted by the ruffed up thoughts of the day.
While
having the unstoppable amount of time to say when to do things, I can’t
take two hours. It takes just four to reach and come back home. The way
there is not as the trail, quite and thought provoking. It’s rather
busy, filled with suburban life. Cars and sidewalks crammed with Asian
homes that have the same type of tiles on the roofs. The yapping barks
unfriendly dogs scare me no matter what because I’m too focused on the
beauty ahead of me. Yet, I know I can not own any of it. I will have to
leave this place, I will have to die. I will have to keep these
memories also like those.
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| Hey guys, I hope your all having a wonderful Christmas. :0) It'd be nice to talk, eh. Haven't heard from you guys and I am sorry I haven't written. There's a lot on my mind and I have so many sites, it takes me such a while. Duide, but all in all I would eally like to know what happeing. God's speed :) | | |
| There are now so manly worldly things I wish I did not know about or could see in many things. The debauchery and stubbornness of us all has crusted over our integrity and wit. No courtesy and common conception I find in a classroom while my siblings fight in petty warfare over tastes and point of views Loss of shame, loss of right and wrong is the world and many nights I spend in mental agony suffering the many laboring thoughts of man. Too much worry I put into life. “It should be known and simple that we are here for the Living God.” I wonder many times about the sweetness of childhood. The true laughter in the air and the lessons of obedience learned. There was times when you learned about new things, new things to build upon, like character. But… <b>I feel arrogant, I feel pride.</b> But that is when I start to be humble and come back down to earth. I realize that there is innocent joy in this world, though it seems hard find. Though it seems no longer alive outside in the harsh realities of a lost immoral blackness. I feel like an idiot pondering over a piece of bread. Whether it is to put jam or peanut butter. Then when kind of jam.. or peanut butter. Then should the bread, and which sort of beard, be toasted or not. Tea, milk, water to drink with that chosen toast… My thoughts constantly burden me but at the same time open my eyes even further. It is better to know what evil is and avoid it, o learn to add to light then the darkness.. then live in the ignorance that all is perfect and right in this world. Good Day. | | |
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