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2008 - November


A new month starts today, a new path, a new way. A new day starts today, a new portrait, a new portal. A new wave starts today, a new age, a new array. A new hour starts when I saw, there's no time, and trust is hard to come by.

That's why you can't combine
They say that's why you can't climb
Up the steps

That's why you can't be nice
They say that's why you can't reach
Up to the skies

That's why you can't coast
That's why you can't rely on crime
We all do time

Until we feel fine


I woke up late today, many hours later than usual. I was expecting a heavy headache from yesterday intense movie watching marathon, but I got none, instead I feel GREAT. Despite having stuffed myself with snacks far after midnight, despite having slept a few hours less than usual, despite having tortured my eyes with five monotone movies in a row on a colorful television screen in a dark room. I'm not tired, I haven't lost my appetite, and I remember all the movies I watched, so my question is, why? Not that I'm not happy, but it baffles me badly. :P


It's the third. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word.


Obama wins! A historic moment all around the world, not least in the states of America, where a significant amount of changes has been promised to be made, but a president that is both black (why does that make me so happy?) and seemingly not as corrupt or old as the people he campaigns against. It's not unexpected that he would win, but since the start of the election campaigns he has had a rough time, and it wasn't always this obvious who the winner was going to be. He also reminds of the great black actor whom I somehow can't recall the name of at this very moment.


When the world is discontinued
And it floats upside down
With a bullet in it's head
And no feet left on the ground

When the world is discontinued
As it sways up to the beat
With a white flag in it's hand
Past the verge of all defeat

When the world is discontinued
And falls through outer space
Through the darkness that there lingers
Through the cycles we all race

To a doom that we did bring us
That we made ourself fortake
A destiny that we had coming
A destiny filled with

Vows of hate


The days flow by
So does the clear blue sky
So do the clouds white and fluffy
And the cars drenched and rusty

On Hannibal lane
Seems like they're rolling again
With the radios on
From dusk till dawn

The nights fly by
So does the dark clear sky
So do the stars that shine bright
Illuminating lucid nights

On Hannibal lane
Seems like they're patrolling again
With pistols in their pockets
With plastic glasses on their sockets

Can the good guys really handle fate?
Can they bring the evil onesdown
Before it is too late?
Play of fate


You know the devil closed the gates last year
That's all we live on here
Plain, Cold, Fear.

You know the demons roam like strays this year
Since all the fabric tears we keep on living by
Cold, Damp, Grates.

You know the souls cast a spell on all us holy folks
Since then we just keep breathin on
Gasp, Sigh, Pause.

You know the dead cannot rise without their heads
No applause, please, we wish this simple charade
Would, Just, Seize.

We wish so many things that we will never get
This worlds fair savior has to rise down yet


But we won't
Or he will?
If he has time
To fill

All the demons
He might kill
If he searches
For a thrill

There's always
Something goin on
Deep down

There's always Something goin on
When god
Aint roaming around

It may be silent to you
You might not hear a sound
But be sure there's always something going on
Always somethin going down

He will
Won't he?
Slay those demons
Free me

He won't
Will he?
All one can do
Is believe

Believe in all that's good
Believe in all that's great
It's never, never
Too late


Listen up you little ones, it's time, you've had your fun! The children are all dead now, so I suppose you had all run. Run back to the hole you came from, run down to where flames rise high. Into the vast horizon, the wall of red rock that we call sky. We call it glory. We call it will. The wall of rock that we cannot kill. We cannot get past it, we cannot fill, it's space with anything else. We love the world, the unknown. Still there is no place, like home. Where the sun never shone, and well all bathed in shadows.


Don't throw it all away.
The life you tried today.
Don't throw it all into.
The bin beside this you.
Don't let it all be trash.
The good you tried to stash.
Just let yourself get through
Let there be cartoons.

Don't throw it all away.
The great you did tomorrow.
Don't live in shades of grey.
Don't sink into this sorrow.
Because we all make mistakes.
But sometimes we do not.
And that my friend is fortune.
And you're part of the pot.

So let us share our fortune.
Let us share the lot.
Instead of going through this torture.


I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired
I'm sick and tired
Of today

I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired
I'm sick and tired
Still I stay

In my office chair
Where I comb my hair
Where I stare blankly
At the screens lowly glare

In my loft up here
Thoughts of rimless despair
Where I rinse my menaces
And tire with advice

I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired
I'm sick and tired
Of today

I'm sick and tired
Of always being sick and tired
I'm sick and tired


This week I've been running on a strict military schedule. Up before eight. Walk at eight. Work all day. Jogging every other day, afternoon. Occasional unplanned events still keep popping up though, like my neighbor inviting me over for chess, my friend roaming by, my cousin calling without anything to say, and it annoys me. I know I should be happy to socialize, but I just have so much on my mind that I can't get by to confine in time, and it gets me tired. I stay up too late and get up too early, which is a bad cycle.


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The batch continues despite the window windfulled with wisdom chindo. I see a liberal intro, disgusted by the induendo. Pretend I don't know, catch close with both locked toes. Stand still and suppose the world keeps on spinning. WHY do I keep living DO I really have a minning, really really have a minning, really really have a minning. Wonder WHY I keep livin, if I REALLY have a minning, really really have a minning. Outs and ins and outs and innings. Discontinued the world so windowsed, but in due time, even the sealess can become colorblind. Blind to colors. Mind.


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I tried to write a poem once
But the words fell out my palm
I tried to get to know her once
In a world of endless calm

But everything I try to do
Seems to get me so confused
That I can't find my resolution
I can't find my residue

I tried to find the words to say
What I wish to say today
But I just wait and wish I wailed
I'm ten months late, ten months late
I tried to make my verses rhyme
But it seems I'm out of time
So I'll just write another line


I read a book about lockpicking today,
very interesting stuff I must say,
so I tried to try out my techniques,
on the neighbors lock today.

It took me an hour to get it all right,
The lock they had wouldn't give up without fight,
And when the door opened I aimlessly froze,
The sound of a siren so shamefully rose.

So the next step in my line of reading,
One that I am sure I'll be needing,
Is a book about turning off alarms
I'm sure it will make my next visit calm.

Calm like a waxball of sinister confettered glowden lies.


I've been sleepless this week, sitting by the screen until I float away in dreams. Walking in the morning, jogging every other day. This monotone task keeps me awake at day, wakes me up at morning, tires me down enough to sleep nights. So, one night I was thinking, what do I want to do with my life? And I came to the conclusion, that I want to wake up with a vision, and go to bed content. I don't want to have any schedules, but I want to work to my fullest capabilities, and still have time left.


Time to not work if I feel like doing something else. Thus, I've decided to truly become a freelancer. I've been a hesitant jobsearcher beside my universal studies for the past few months, but there truly is a lot of opportunity on the net. The problem is, I'm afraid to start something, to really spend time and resources on a new project I feel for, because, in due time, I know that I will gain doubt when not seeing progress, even though I know that there will be progress eventually. And this, isn't good. Besides, I have projects going.


I find that without any schedules, todo lists or hopeless projects that I can never hope to complete, life does flow along so much simpler! I get much more done, I'm not stressed, I work on at a fast and efficient pace without needing to worry about not being able to title those 540 pictures during the remaining ten minutes of my time due to the fact the my FTP client uploads so slow while I'm scanning viruses and uploading my GTA SA modification to rapidshare, openhost and tenmiles at the same time. Ah, blue sky outside, life is truly wonderful.


It snowed last night, not much, but enough to cover the ground with a glistening crystalike white blanket of crisp soft substance upon the previously melted cold ice. I took a long walk this morning with mother mine, the normal route and then a stroll towards the birdtower and across the golfcourse back, sun shining, snowcovered grass slowly rustling beneath our feet. No wind, wonderful weather. (66) It feels warmer outside than it does inside, all due to movement, my eyes grow tired as soon as I step through the door to greet the warmer breeze inside. With snow, I love winter.


It snows yet! The flakes slowly swiffling to the ground like faded pettles. Sun is hiding behind the clouds, now and then peeking at us from behind the ignorant white masses, shyly. I drank almost ten cups of black tea yesterday, and I peed dark brown, it really freaked me out for a while. Today is Sunday, a day I love, and rest, and I notice I'm writing this a day before the day once more, but the dates here are really late lately. At least I participate outdately, don't wait for fate, grab a hold and hope to glow, someday.


It baffles me that 100Words has been making entries available one day late since this month first opened it's gates. So now I must wait, and run about writing bout yesterday always always. It struffles me, buffles my conscience, strolls like cous cous on my lawn the waterfall this dawn. Is frozen, I'm open for all comments and feedback. If you write me a map I'll get back to you soon when the whirls in this typhoon cool down. I'll be around, always here, in this cybersphere, drinking a nice warm cup of coffee or tea. Singing songs happily En lightened.


Another day that flew away like the soft moon breeze fumbling over rumbling seas. Another day that passes, outside my hour glasses, I see the grain that clashes, and collides, softly, in lullabies. All the work that harrasses, me and my friendly posses, hunt possums without stopping out in the open ocean. Brings me back, to the moore. Brings me back, to what I was before, brings me back, and I hear you snore, calmly, into he depths of night. And I know that the world aint nice, but I'm too grown up to fight. And I know that ...


... the world can be cold, when your frail and old, when your grail grows bold, when the glow flows foul like grace gone foul. There is nothing left here that can stop you now! Can't you hear the monsters wonder? Can't you hear their winding steps? When they dumble with their flounder and realize they have nothing left? Can't your hear the big steps the giants, take, both night and day when they stay awake, for the great great party, they stay up late, again. There's nothing more left but to pretend that the world is still as great as ...


... it was before. And so it will be. Forever more. The sun it shines, and I rhyme like a thousand flames, that noone can steer and no verses can claim. It doesn't matter, if you play my game, because it keeps playing without worlds saying. Who's going to win the grand contest tonight? Whos going to fight who's going to pray? Who's going to scream with a warcries delight? Tell me who will be making my day, creating it lone from the stones of Timbeir, creating it's shine from the voice you can't hear, fighting with flames when noone is near, and defying laws as if there was, no other.


My brother came to visit today, stayed all way throughout the weekend. With him he brought Rasmus, son of his, and together we built a complicated tunnelsystem based upon empty toilet rolls above the staircase handles, crumpled up balls of paper and let them roll all the way down, afterwards building a small elevator with strings attached in which all balls could be put in and risen above. He called it Donk Donk Bonk, and we played this for seven hours after it was built, again again, upstairs downstairs, it was ferverish envior. It was fun to build, then all challenge dispersed.


I went to pick up my brother and the son of his when they came by train on Thursday, late afternoon when the sun had already sunken deep beneath the gloomy hills beyond us. Happy reunion. We spoke little on the trainride home, lights in the ceiling didn't function properly, blinked on and off, we glared thoughtfully out the trains windows at the seemless plains outside, twelve stations. Finally back we blabbered on endlessly, discussed matters, inventions, trainrides, toys, miscellaneous. After that the best dinner I have eaten in ages. Pancakes filled with mushrooms and shrimps, in alternating rows, beautiful.


We have calenders, we have time, you have yours and I have mine. But it's useful, yet it's fine, yet it's useless, we combine. All these factors, we organize, we live these structures, in our lives. If they don't fit us? We have no choice, there is only one structured poise. In it's pose, we flow in frows, we ride in hides, we hide in homes. Some waste their days, some pray to stay, inside this routine, they fairly may. I'm not a preacher, I'm not a wrath. All I want is, my money back. So I can count, harmony.


Another week has passed
Today will be the last
Day of this month here
Then the start of a new year

Treads in place as we face
Another month to race
And I feel christmas is near
A merry day to shed no tears

To fell for what wrongs all right
For evil gives up all fight
And flows to the foam we bear
And loams all alone in fear

That reason gives up to start
All evil unfrom we part
And shatter all hope we hear
That bellows beneath our sneakers

Call out, for the Dungeon Keeper
Rashif, Utmost, Apart.

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