I awake

The poem I read in class that I wrote.

I awake

I awake, a brush ahead

in a thicket

It rained through the night,

the wet muddy earth soaks below.

This didn’t stop me from making a


cuffing my arms,

crossing my legs to make a four,

the rain fell upon my half naked body

and fell and fell

and I was baptised, alone in the




Virginia Woolf’s Suicide letter to Leonard Woolf


, , , , , , , , ,

I stumbled upon this and thought it was worth sharing. Also, it is from the movie “The Hours”. Enjoy!


I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.


Influenced by last weeks discussion


, , , ,

I was really influenced by Auden’s poetry last week and was inspired to write a poem of my own that I wish to share with the blog.

Church Owls

In a steeple, somewhere soft,
are two owls hooting heart-faces
at the silver moon. Hooting young
hopes at falling stars to wish
the wild world upon them soon.

Two white owls barely two
feet tall eager to blast
through doughy clouds.
Beneath Heaven’s lamps and
above the sea, they fly between
the world, and the world of dreams.

They circle the skies, and then
the globe, conquering the air
the night has traveled. Until they
see the snow below, the frozen
truths of the land unraveled.

The barren Earth with icy lakes,
naked trees, their leaves knocked off.
Tiny mice buried beneath the dead
debris, pale faced and lost.

Their eyes well black, and they
return, mourning the mice on top
their loft. They curse with hoots
the cruel game on Earth. Hooting
two white chests and two tan coats.
Hooting two heart-faces and the
short time between death and birth.

“Language is the hearts lament”

At first listen I think a lot of people would write Protest the Hero off as some sort of metal band and nothing more.  Yes, they are some sort of metal band but if you take the time to look up their lyrics you might be surprised.  This song is from their third Album “Fortress”.

All lyrics on Fortress are written by bassist, Arif Mirabdolbaghi.

“Endowed with the art of casting names upon its being
The humans claimed dominion over every living fucking thing.

Proud as purpose as they became to walk the Earth as they arraigned
The common creatures caught within the corpus
Curse, concious human brain.

Every word thats ever written will fall short of its intent
Even spoke, or sung, or screamed they will betray what they have meant
Language is the hearts lament, a weak attempt to circumvent the loneliness inherent in the search for permanence.

(like all the future ghosts who scratch thier names in wet cement).

Demeaning meaning as they shout out at the emptiness
Abstraction is the stake between anima and animus
Deflesh the word as scourge of human destiny

Behold the world in other people, life is clarity.”