Where amI?
I can't see!
Somebody help me!
I'm fading.
The lights,
They're dimming.
The darkness,
it's coming.
Unsure,
Uncertain,
Afraid.
The darkness,
it's here.
I've lost,
It's over.
I'm conscious,
Yet unconscious.
I'm thinking,
But I'm nothing.
I'm absorbed,
Into the darkness.
Floating with,
Countless other Nothings.
By A. David Worley Sept. 6th 2008
By the way, if you hadn't already guessed from the title, the poem's about conformity.
So of course, it's summer, and holidays have begun.
I'm receiving my dose of pamidronate for these 3 days, as I should be. Bit of a hitch yesterday with it, as I was turned away, but today all is well.
Anyway, I'll be going to stay with my mom and Ken, and also at some point, with my dad and Jeanne. I'm leaving, on Saturday, immediately after my pamidronate treatment has concluded, given all goes well.
Anyway, I got some pictures today, so I'll upload them.
Just figured I'd throw a brief post together.
Anyhow, also like to comment that the nurse, Sheena, is very good at what she does, and makes this a lot easier.
Anyway, that's it. Seeya!
May 9th 2008
By David Worley
Sanity
Sanity, and insanity,
Choice? Gene?
Sanity, normality,
Insanity, oddity.
Why such judgements?
How do you know,
If you’re going insane?
How do you know,
If you’re already there?
How do you know,
If you’re perfectly sane?
How do you know,
If you’ve always been sane?
Why,
Do I feel this way?
Why,
Do I think this way?
Why,
Do I act this way?
Why,
Am I this way?
Am I insane?
Am I imbalanced?
Am I unsafe?
Am I here?
Why?
I just thought that I would post these songs here, we went over them in my English class, and I thought they were both good songs, so I'm posting them here.
(Lyrics only)
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"Twas down in Mississippi no so long ago, When a young boy from Chicago town stepped through a Southern door. This boy's dreadful tragedy I can still remember well, The color of his skin was black and his name was Emmett Till. Some men they dragged him to a barn and there they beat him up. They said they had a reason, but I can't remember what. They tortured him and did some evil things too evil to repeat. There was screaming sounds inside the barn, there was laughing sounds out on the street. Then they rolled his body down a gulf amidst a bloody red rain And they threw him in the waters wide to cease his screaming pain. The reason that they killed him there, and I'm sure it ain't no lie, Was just for the fun of killin' him and to watch him slowly die. And then to stop the United States of yelling for a trial, Two brothers they confessed that they had killed poor Emmett Till. But on the jury there were men who helped the brothers commit this awful crime, And so this trial was a mockery, but nobody seemed to mind. I saw the morning papers but I could not bear to see The smiling brothers walkin' down the courthouse stairs. For the jury found them innocent and the brothers they went free, While Emmett's body floats the foam of a Jim Crow southern sea. If you can't speak out against this kind of thing, a crime that's so unjust, Your eyes are filled with dead men's dirt, your mind is filled with dust. Your arms and legs they must be in shackles and chains, and your blood it must refuse to flow, For you let this human race fall down so God-awful low! This song is just a reminder to remind your fellow man That this kind of thing still lives today in that ghost-robed Ku Klux Klan. But if all of us folks that thinks alike, if we gave all we could give, We could make this great land of ours a greater place to live. 
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Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music |
Strange Fruit
Lewis Allen
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
He falls
Into the icy water
As it moves
So rapidly
Impossible for him to survive.
Time seemed to move,
At a much slower pace,
As he fell from the edge,
So far down,
To the water.
Like a video,
Stopping for a long moment,
As each frame passed.
And then,
Like a reaction of a chain,
Being whipped about,
I followed.
Falling,
Far and fast,
Yet slow and peacefully.
So terrified,
Waiting for the icy chill,
Of the water's rapid movement,
To tear me away,
From the life I knew.
As he and I hit the water,
We seem to be absorbed into it,
Become one with it,
And its icy chill becomes part of us.
Impossible to survive.
By David Worley
Author's note: This post was not meant to frighten you. It is not symbolic to my current emotional state. It is a metaphor. Of life, and of death. Life is the time between the fall, and the water. Death, is the absorption into the water.
Why did I write in the first person narrative? I don't know.
Why did I include another subject in the poem? I don't know that either.
I am simply writing, a metaphor, for life, and death, and the randomnity of it.
Is randomnity a word? No. But I made it one anyway.
Thank you and goodnight.
-David
Well. It's been another while since I last posted, now, hasn't it?
Yes, yes, I suppose it has.
Why, you might ask, am I blabbering nearly incoherently?
My answer to that potential question, would be, because I enjoy it.
Heh. With that out of the way, where I've been.
I've been in Kitimat, doing all my normal stuff, and what have you.
Ron has started dating, in a serious relationship with a lovely woman named Margaret. She is a very nice, caring, generous woman. I'm glad he has found her, and hope things work out.
I am currently in Olympia visiting mom. Spring break, you know.
Anyhow, mom, Ken and I went to VON.x for a few days.
I expected it to be rather boring.
But you know what? I thought it was extremely interesting. I met a few very nice people, and got a crash course in social media and such. Rather interesting.
Have also been talking to a wonderful lady named Cathryn about writing. She's an author herself, you know, and has a lot to say about it, which I find valuable information, seeing as I'm a young author, and can always use help, critique, and encouragement.
And also, been in contact with a cool guy named Chad, who's put in a few various camera suggestions, since my camera broke. Bloody thing anyway. Chad's quite an established photographer himself, and he used to have a vox page, but he preferred flickr, since vox has limited uploads.
Anyway, I just thought I'd get a quick post going on as to what's been happening with me, and in a moment, I'm going to blast a random poem out. Based on a dream I had last night, with some artistic license. Well, not really, since it was a dream, but I'm going to change it a bit from the dream I had. Consider it more like this: The dream inspired the poem.
Anyway, that's the end of THIS post, here comes the next one.
Well, this post, is about emotions, and love, and what not.
My friend Whitney and I were talking about some of these things last night, at a late hour, and I thought I'd write about them, because I thought it would be interesting.
Whitney and I were talking about her wish for perfection.
I said that there was nothing really wrong with wanting perfection, as long as one understands that except in the matter of true love nothing can be perfect.
Quote: What do you mean perfect? And what's wrong with WANTING perfect, as
long as you accept that perfection is impossible except in the matters
of love./
Later on, Whitney went on to say this: Love is perfect, But we are too corrupt in ourselves to experience pure love, We have too many negative emotions.
But here's my take on it. Each emotion, negative or positive, is a pure emotion, and is a branch off of love. Physical pain doesn't count as an emotion. Anyway, since each emotion in my opinion is part of love, and is pure, then love IS pure, given that both people involved are experiencing TRUE love, and not puppy/fake/corrupt love.
She asked after that, how something like fear, or hate can be part of love.
Well, fear, can be part of love, because you can truly fear losing that person.
As for hate. Hm. Perhaps you hate yourself for loving someone who doesn't reciprocate your feelings? Or hate somebody who killed/hurt/stole/whatever'd one of your loved ones? In those cases, I think that hate is a part of love. She said that hate is an absence of love, but I think it really depends on the scenario.
I think she's right, a lot of people ARE too corrupt to feel true love and pure love, but some people I think are still capable of it, even in the corruption we live in on a daily basis.
Later on, she mentioned that she thinks about this sort of stuff a lot, and possibly attributed it to her emotionally confused state.
I responded to that with this: I don't think it's more than you can handle. But you're thinking about it in such a way that your mind/heart/soul/whatever you'd like to believe can't fully accept it the WAY you're thinking about it, but if you somehow look at things from a different view, your mind/soul/heart would accept it. However! Do I pretend to know HOW to change the way you look at something? Nope. Sorry.
She said that she always seems to go in a circle with her thinking, and wind up back where she started.
Well, I think that's perfectly normal to do. Everyone does that sometimes, if not frequently, I think, and I think that's part of how we need to as a society change the way we think, so that we start going in a line, instead of in a circle, so to say.
So, back to the love thing.
I think she's right, I think a lot of people really ARE too corrupted to experience pure love, but I think she's wrong about us having too many negative emotions. Negative emotions are part of love too, I think, but I think that some people, really are incapable of love. They can act it, but not truly feel it. It's a pitiful thought to think that someone will never experience that feeling. But I think in this day and age, people care only for their own emotions, and rarely care whether other people experience the same thing as they do or not. It's a sad realization.
Anyway, that's pretty much all I wanted to say, just figured I'd write on here, what I talked about last night, because I thought it was interesting.
Read it, if you wish, comment if you wish. Ignore it if you wish. :)
-David
January 13th 2008
It seems like just a few days ago that my own father’s mother passed on. My grandmother. But it was already more than 4 months ago now. Still, what they say about things getting better with time, it’s not true. The pain is still there, as much as it ever was, and probably as much as it ever will be. What is true, is its easier to ignore the pain after time. You sort of build a tolerance to it, much like to physical pain. But that doesn’t stop the pain altogether.
And just this short time after my grandmother has died, I am aware of, and alerted to the fact that my step father’s own mother who has been terminally ill with lung cancer for well over a year now who has made it much longer than any of us expected her to, is probably going to die in a few days.
I shed my tears the day that we found out she had cancer, and I have started to shed them again tonight. It is obviously yet to be seen whether I’ll be able to shed them at the time of her death or not.
I still remember wanting and wishing for the ability to cry the day that my grandmother died, and I don’t like that feeling of the inability to grieve like I’d like to.
I want to hold it together for my step grandmother though. Mumpie. Oma. Both are her names to me. I love her so dearly. I hate to see her go. She’s been as much of a grandmother as much as my biological grandmothers have been to me for the last 9 years.
It’s killing me now to see her suffer like this. She’s not in as much pain as one would expect, but she’s so unhappy. I know that once she’s gone, she will be in peace, but I hate to see her suffer like this her last few days.
And I hate to see the pain and suffering of the heart that my step dad is going through as well. This must be so hard for him, to lose a parent. It must be hard for anyone to lose a parent. I’ve not had the unfortunate experience of going through that loss yet. And I don’t hope to any time soon.
It really is so hard for me to handle this just shortly after my other grandmother’s death, and my mom and step-dad’s divorce. It’s hard to handle one thing. To have it all happen in fairly short - ok I realize it’s been more like 4 months but still, that’s not that long in the grand scheme of things - succession is nearly impossible.
As I write this, I’m again thinking of the future. Thinking of what the future will be like without this wonderful woman who I know as a grandmother in my life. And I am horrified.
Again, as in another entry to my blog, I am nostalgic, remembering the past, and wishing that I were there. Worry-free, happy, and content. And I dread the future, still and again, as mentioned in that post.
I’m terrified, and torn, again and again, torn, right through the heart. I’m not sobbing yet, but I imagine by the time I actually post this I will be.
I’m also fearful that tonight’s sobs are the only tears I’ll be able to shed for this event. I don’t want that to happen. I want to be able to cry at the funeral, I want to be able to cry when she dies, I want to be able to cry a year from now remembering this.
But I don’t know if I’ll be able to cry about this after tonight, and that too frightens me.
Anyway, I’m pretty much done with my emotional rant. I wanted to write this down now so that I got my thoughts and emotions out on the table now before my mind suppressed them. I know that the thoughts here are disorganized, but I think the message is still clear.
Thanks,
-David.
