cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts tagged “author

July 19th, 1991.

Posted on July 17, 2015

all little boys need father figures not to be normal, or not to be sane. You wouldn’t turn on a lightswitch without seeing where all the conduits placed. You grow up with a fist full of hurt. A surge, like a missile, without hearing a ‘miss you’. But one thing is certain, nothing makes you question your integrity more knowing that your very existence is burden. You’re a burden to breathe. I was just a curious boy. Curious George. Curious Cristian. Tried to talk to friends, but the look on their faces. It hurts just to listen. A burden. “How about a counselor?”. Yeah, I know the in-and-outs. I’m a soldier. Here take my money, let me cry in your shoulder. How do you…

Don’t you get mad when there isnt’ a word that encapsulates your thoughts? So you write sonnets and songs, and poets and hymns, haikus and shit just to sorta capture it all?

Posted on May 4, 2015

sigh. the streetlight kissed your eyes & created an impression so pure. its whiteness i bring this up, bceause I fell in love by remembering my reflection off your iris. expression in its highest form, sensory designed to cure, destinies arrived. analyzed the sculpture, of course. – then vandalized your structure leaves falling aimlessly, in it’s phantom-like flutter randomized in the sputter of it all, only to capture geometry if love reaches new heights this colloquys written in masterful mountains parallel streets, architecture of houses, potential surrounding of impeccable scenery only strengthened and balanced, by the powerful breath breathed into me, when your mouth pressed out in between, the sound effect of the pucker so loud, so vehemently i remember a shroud of evenly…

my last shot, i swear, man.

Posted on February 23, 2015

Sweared it’s my last shot. Promised it was. It was the electric flow to my conduits buzz. Been left alone, shadow unfollowed me. but, I got 40 ounces that say I’ve done everything but bottle it up. Hairs falling out, play a game, (because I’m so ugly, I’m fucking shot.) Count the follicles, ‘she loves me……. she loves me-not’ Proudly logical. Gladly pick you apart. Sadly, and single handedly pulling the strings from your heart. Stitching compartments, living fancy. livid and darkness. Living apartment, shelling angry, felt the shift in you when I put my fist through the door.   Sometimes, I listen to the pauses you take, the breaths, and silence in every word set astray. I don’t listen to you, or me when…

SELSUN BLUE

Posted on February 23, 2015

groove to the classics, velveteen smooth, devilish antics. Never seen through my pirate themed ruse, or the skeleton captain. x-ray embellishing, developing cancer. The elephant in the room, and the rest is in captions. Subtitled. And the lexicons added, for your pleasurable view, gotta penchant for adlibs. Subdued, to my intelligence, say hello to the masses, yeah, it’s just you, some gel tablets and the medicine cabinet. They’re like a presidents cabinet. Group of advisers  the vicodins the vice president, the alcohol the confidant. Loose on the side. Hide the bruises you captured. A group of counselors, grouped into family shit ending in -cillin. the chancellor, consultant, all there to mentor you. Chilling. In the living room, like it was meant to instill some impressionable…

Explosives can be a growth experience

Posted on January 14, 2015

tired of decomposing, dried up, my dreams are dozing my body has peaked the opus, through godly retreat. I hope. trying to feel a pulse, pariah that feels opposed pinching my gripe, controlling. picture my mind in solace pitching and writhing, gritting and grinding my teeth to focus witch-doctors reveal a poem, my palms have been reading growth exhausted. my beings broken. loathe signs that concede to smoke I need the tar to feed compulsions. exhaust that secretes emotions. tyrants as deacons, posing; goliath as people cloaking a lion in sheeplings clothing, a tiger that feels repulsed about the lines that he sees his coat in. why do i feel insulted sonnets revealed in quotient, to qualm this conceited ghost but while i sleep,…

Fireworks

Posted on January 4, 2015

Dreams and reverie boasts Roasted with pearly green chimerical gold God Delusion. Hallucinating a miracle told Where lightning strikes the conscious Lively minded. Constant. Smile by a goddess Where perfectness unfurled by Pangaea Curvy hips, sangria and rooftops Inebriated in a sea. with a jukebox Charismatic, dispelling drama. adorable gospel sings for the saga approaching Americanah and rooted, salsa and dance Savannah beauty, with a lot to command sailor of wisdom, a body tailored for rhythm samba routine, enigma. for her frolicking waist Marvelous taste. Whiskey and fruit wine Yin and yang in spirit. Spirits and moonshine Clamoring percussion, fireworks on the eve ten seconds for eruption, heart on her sleeve little black dress, static libido attracted me. magnetic tuxedo countdown in Manila, 3…

unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

Posted on December 17, 2014

puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in post and pre nuptial showmanship. Function control amusing instrumental. effusive, ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy a weeded rustled drone, that tumblerode a the quietest depiction of the color blue on a petal succulent. moss grows on my archers boot and a straw of my grass clenched by my jawbones a flux of rusty trombones that exude music through it’s metal I’ve heard poetry spoken in crux, bolded by a bellowing, bolstering Underlined by a snake in the grass, it’s so mellow. Just hold me Boisterous. soaked in droves of this sorceress satin She spoke in a language obscurely molded in spanish her lips curved,…

Cold Summer Woes

Posted on December 16, 2014

in my humblest woe, I loved you with candor frankly you were a rare summer wind astonishingly surprising, a fountains brush you took the air out my lungs, goosebumps on my legs a breath out the ordinary, for such a open season you were colder than most could believe in a bohemian, bummer bar. right after bumper car adventures it was mid July and we’d tumble/fall into a vivid scent maybe that’s why they call them somersaults i’d tailgate the rubber off your miniature go kart we’d laugh, and bump into each other like that one day, we met… If summer was broken up into seasons where you broke me, the solstice would fall 10 times a year and it’d probably be because; you were…

guillotine lust

Posted on December 12, 2014

particle physics; radiation cusps at every speck and a grain that didn’t mean infecting the inflections as your hypothetical claim bite the bullet. swallowing the pistol. it shoots harboring a hollow feeling. sipping miller to boot coil gripped Corona, drowning out social persona were evolving into moths, wallowing towards the murky gray skies. yeah, the coffee! what’s next? marvelous pillow talk over a body of sex heel gone from the left side of my moccasin treads in particular, inarticulate guy with philosophers breath cotton linen robe; tonight i uncover the secrets you stashed underneath the cardinal chasm embedded deep in the cracks try to unfurl the english, through your lips on contours christmas carolers scarf, closed captioned lyrics encore wept for concourse, a few…

Freshly dressed tourniquet

Posted on December 5, 2014

Empyrean cosmos. This feeling I swallow; it’s real. It’s hollow, but there. I know it. It’s growing, a hole full of sorrow, it’s weird. Some sort of eery control. It’s sculpted out a grave in my heart, it’s six feet into my soul. Clay soldier statue that’s woven and wound up by fear. Wounded by perceptions and ousted by fear. I’m used to it, ruthless, I’m near it, I smell, it; I hear. And movements that veer into me, is getting boosted. It’s like every little thing is in motion for me. Emotionally, my blood pumps. it’s mundane humdrum. I’m so used to panic attacks when it happens, I’ve practiced drowning myself to get better at ‘em. Crusted bark falling off the sharp edges…

IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

Posted on November 17, 2014

  its 2am i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed the success is a hive. hummingbird wings in slow motion hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed feels like they’re talking to me, as i walk on the leaves that i cross demure. you’re so provocative. and i’m surely a ghost crunching of autumn, is like a skeleton field for tiny trees in the fall to possess you is a  perfect choice, and you’re as alluring, a host sunbathed petals, drowning in jack’o’lanterns of coffee & pumpkin squash the soggy leaves, after a beer. underneath the frothy assumptions it’s cost me a fortune. ink-jets flew the loss to the profits that’s…

IT’S 2 A.M

Posted on November 17, 2014

hello crickets. im sad. (the wonderful thing about crickets is they’ll keep chirping if you’re talking to them)The world is at a crossroads. It’s silent and heavy. The cultures the clashes. The cancer, the caving. The careers and consultations my mentors suggest. I look at beautiful woman and I want to tell them they’re beautiful. To smile. I look at men I have some interests with and I want to tell them “hey man, that’s cool.” the comment alone is enough for me as a interaction. sometimes It’s lonely. sometimes you want them to be interested in what you have to say. Sometimes you want a meaningful conversation. sometimes I don’t want to fantasize about sexual trysts. I just want to roll around in…

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