The Town Dolls Midsummer song

The Town dolls Midsummer song
by me(whatever)
to this song: Floating Cloud- 胎動 (fetal movement)

The universe is made of paper.
The Earth is made of ink.
My hands are water vapor.
My feet are wrapped in stone.

If you're licked in a toris,
don't stop to satisfy their hunger.
If all you are is a totality of existence,
dance until you're younger!

expanding and contracting,
the sounds of clapping hands (followed me here)
The ultimate fate awaiting you,
is the next strike of the band.

If the dark energy accelerates you,
twirl faster to avoid illness.
If all you see is dark matter,
return later as a fetus.

The Universe is made of paper.
The Earth is made of ink.
My hands are water vapor.
My feet are wrapped in stone.

The town is made of strings.
The moon is made of flour.
My doll-maker stands with his rings,
we girls dance till the end of the hour.

Songs Without Words

Songs without Words
by me(whatever)
to this song: Jenga

We all start out as songs without words,
living every second of every day.
We search for the meaning in our lives,
our lives so different, yet so identical.

For the perfect lyrics,
we constantly scribble and erase.
Even the things we once wrote in pen,
have become crumpled up and thrown away.

The Tree of Hope

The tree of hope
by me(whatever)
to this song/video: Moonlight Restaurant

The tree of inborn eternal light,
In the background of a million stars,
I curl up next to it
and fall asleep.

All the villagers, down below
have already come to pay their respects.
Two hundred golden candles
glowing for the years.

I watch from above,
invisibly touching every flame.

Within the sunshine leaves,
a thousand eyes peer out at me.
A lone spirit who decided to stay behind,
wishing to use their own gateway.

My memories have already withered away,
but in the cold night I remain.
In the changing seasons, I remain the same
Smiling, yet already withered away.

I grant them blessings,
the ones who killed me.
For the day I die,
I grant them blessings.

The moon still leaks its white tears,
shedding them,
dripping sap off my limbs.
I own no hatred.

Two hundred years of prosperity,
the greed is reflected in their hope.
When they pass away,
Some come to me:
a gateway to Heaven.

A loneliness I never knew I had,
remains locked, buried beneath roots.
Your night has already come to an end,
Yet you remain in the morning. You remained.

Two lovebirds nest in my branches, twittering contently.
a pitchfork scratches it to the earth,
twigs still locked together.
I envy the foolish and the rash.

A gateway to Heaven,
A gateway to prosperity.
Again the tree looks towards it's dream,
the dream it can only grant for others.

What is Heaven?
Is it the spring blossoms
I've never bloomed?
Or was it the time I spent with you?

Two hundred years.
Glowing for you.

Safely stowed away,
it opens, buried beneath dull roots.
Feelings withered away
stretched into a single bud.

The marching parade of hope
climb the hill to meet me.
Opening their mouths to sing
their song I've changed to a lullaby.

All their hopes and dreams,
I've learned to listen.
They wrap their spindly arms around me,
and burn me to the ground.

The tree of eternal light,
I watch it in a bonfire of love.
Smiling,
the glowing ash remains.

Finally free.

Nostalgic Song

Nostalgic Song
by me(whatever)
to this song: Nujabes- Imaginary Folklore
If anyone cares, the song I'm referencing to in this poem, "I want to turn transparent, like the sky," is a song by Utada Hikaru called Take 5.

I wake up in the foggy night,
the darkness both frightening and embracing me.
This translucent feeling from the headphones,
just what is the rain trying to tell me?

She said spirits are everywhere, making up the world.
when I sat thoughtless on the school brick wall,
staring through an empty soda bottle,
just what was that distorted sky whispering to me?

I can't cry, I can't smile,
but I'm not emotionless.
In elementary school, when I traversed to another world on the playground swings,
just what was the wind not saying?

And still, just a little
those nostalgic song lyrics:
"I want to turn transparent,
like the sky."

If I remember,
how to listen to those old songs,
will I traverse time?
Will the memories not hurt so bad?

And still, just a little
that nostalgic song, just the same:
"I want to turn transparent,
like the sky."

Like the sky.
Just a little.

My Littlest Brother

My Littlest Brother
by me(whatever)

He said he wanted to die.
I heard him as he said this,
the little brother I never knew.

Even though, in several times of pain,
I had said the same.
This was different as a child of nine
spouted my silly words into the air.

I was afraid, and in times pretended to care.
But, I admit, I was the same as my hate;
the only person I cared for was myself.

And after the war,
of two sides of our nationality
I remembered the peace before,
and wanted him to feel it.

I started out without any knowledge,
feeling fake in every pore.
But he accepted the thing I gave readily,
and I became real.

Hugging, reading books at night,
running to meet each other, complimenting on a drawing,
rollerblading in the sprinkling sidewalk, laughing,
and,
always smiling.

I'm striving towards a goal,
a goal I thought impossible before.
you know? that yellow thing that reminds me of daisies and the sun,
the thing called happiness.

The first time I saw him, it was the last day of first grade,
he was purple all over, my newborn littlest brother.
I remembered my feeling that someone wasn't here yet from before,
put my finger in his palm,
and as those stump fingers curled around it,
the feeling was fulfilled.

I remember him being bathed in a dish-like thing,
and my mother wrapping him in a yellow hood towel.

I remember him running around in saggy diapers,
flushing kitchen things down the toilet,
writing his name on the bathroom wall after my mothers new coat of paint.

I had meant to teach him what childhood meant,
what affection meant.
But he was the one who spurred my old woman brain,
and HE re-taught me how to hug,
how to have fun,
how to smile,
what my childhood meant,
and how to love.

He doesn't say he wants to die anymore.

Disinfected Hope

Disinfected Hope
by me(whatever)
to this song: Gumi/Len- Dragon Rising

I'm watching out the window,
imagining the wind through the holes in my ears.
Replaying everything I've ever done wrong,
playing hide and seek with the truth.

Laughter playing in the spinning Rollerblades,
so many words I've never been able to say.
Tears clogging grime in the gears of time,
so many words I've regretted saying.

No matter!
This is a revolution, isn't it?
No matter how many times we're pushed down,
the voices from outside saying "No, No."
Doesn't it just make you want to destroy them?

This frustration rising to sky scrapers,
I climb and jump off,
imagining death and death again, yet
Why am I still the hero of this story in the end?

No recognition, no praise
the part of myself that still envies those things
I want to tear it apart.

With all these worthless memories,
will I be able to create a happy ending future?
Ha ha ha
sarcastic giggles, squeaking like mice

I don't know anymore.
Is even this life just a sick joke?
I can imagine it disappearing like a crazy hallucination
and when I wake up,
and when I wake up,
to the end of a realization
would it be shangri-la?

I just feel like everything I've enjoyed
should just end already.
Worthless, worthless
all these replaying days are worthless.

Spreading these wings,
and flying for such a thing as "justice"
all the way to Hell.

I want even more unusual words,
trying to say something I still haven't been able to.
Even through conversation with myself
the singing notes always end in disinfectant.

A hazy sun peeking at the world,
you grab hold of it,
and disappear.

From Alice.

From Alice. 

by me(whatever)

I will be there tomorrow,
though I am not there today.

Despite how I fight,
I get locked by what people say.

It was an accident, I assure you
how I came to be this way

I didn't hear the alarm fuzz in the morning
the fan overpowered my ears.
And with this feeling that I'd rather be there,
I'm giving fake cheers.

Though I am not there today,
see how I already am?

Though it's a lie
I'd like to say I'm better than them.

It's a distrust
to say I'm happy.
It's a distrust
to say I'm sad.

.....

I will be there tomorrow,
holding that blue costume.

ready to wear it in a grocery store.
You're all ready, I assume?

It's still a distrust to trust my feelings,
but don't worry about me.

I'll find a way to be there,
just wait and see.

Actually,
I think we should ask for a carrot instead.
For that other thing
could be possibly misread.

.......

Though I am not there today,
I will be there tomorrow.

Perhaps thats the only thing I'm good at.
So just count on it, and wait please?

Who says life is a wonderland?

Gray Clumps

Gray Clumps
by me(whatever)

clumps of gray spiderweb dancing on my ceiling
I watch them with unfeeling eyes.
The rest of the room is clean,
but this one neglection entertains me.

Last year I was a perfect 'A' student;
I was the rosy red of the apple you gave to the teacher.
This year I'm finding myself more colorful,
B's, C's, and stressful faces.

The point of a persons character
isn't where they do well.
True love wasn't in the glitter of Cinderella's dress
it was in the ash staining her cheeks.

Every time I'm feeling down,
like a failure or gravel in the driveway
I push my ungainly expression into the dirty pillow
and try to love my mistakes.

That's all I have to say.
I feel like eating a cookie.

The person I want to be is still unreachable.

Blood for Water

Blood for Water
by me (whatever)

I've fought my last strand,
I cried the name of revolution
I've run through bodies with broken swords
I withstood the last stand.

Ah, dearest
tell me the line between regret and relief

Even the water tastes of blood.
In my old age...

Little Witch Academia

Time for a change of pace besides poems. Here's a little 26 minute animation that I watched a little while ago, and I really like it. Well, I usually like childish things. Things like this always want me want to fly around on a broomstick and battle monsters. I wish magic was real. Life would be so much more interesting! Probably.

 

Points for Chariot riding the broom like a surf board! I swear that teacher is really Chariot, too. Sucy is my favorite character of all time.

Friends

Friends
by me(whatever)
to this song: Sky fish

It didn't matter where we began.
we were happy.
we are happy.

within the dot spinning invisible on this Earth;
hardly noticeable to God at all..?
We appeared, born, in this
beautiful, corrupted city we met each other.

For the sake of enclosing the letter,
each of us quiet about the spots living had given us
in the facility of modern brainwashing (a.k.a. education)
our eyes held contact,
and we silently held hands.

Flying Message

Flying Message
by me(whatever)
to this song: Sukima Switch- Shizuku

These wings created in the night
were too heavy to fly to you.

From a corner of the spring,
a small voice whispers in my mind.
"You will lose everything precious to you."
I was only a child, and yet
I could see it stretch in front of me.

Kites in their migrating colors,
we were all watching from the woods inside the dome.
Despite everyone's confidence and hopes
I remain doubtful.

the moon fell upside down,
and out spilled every one of my fears.
"Even if I'm not here, the Earth will continue spinning."
Was it only me?
You were there with me, also, right?

From a corner of the spring,
I plucked out the lost feathers of the past.
Sketching our names, childlike, in the passing stone
a few years from now,
certainly it will have been washed away.

What is the reason I have been writing all this time?
The 'dream' to write this 'heart'
must have been,
yes, surely
impossible from the start.

From the morning, a song soars out
across a gap of time.
A long lost message, from you to me
The meaning of freedom.

I can't reach it.

Like a broken stage doll,
I'm sitting here winding down.
From a corner in the spring
the voice laughs sadly,
"I wish...."
and disappears.

What is the meaning of the future stretching in the bottomless sky?
What is the meaning in these broken wings?

The one thing I swore when I was still naive and smiling,
was to never forget.

If these memories only continue hurting me like this,
would it be better to pluck them out?
But the song springs across the past,
"Don't let go."

The spring encircles me in it's arms,
pulling me down to a gentle death.
Ah, I wanted to see you one more time.

Something behind this dome,
something behind this place I am in.
Something in the future.

If I could dream of flying,
perhaps the world would dye blue like this for me?
If I could dream of freedom,
perhaps I could even hold the weight of these wings.

So where does the sky go?
Tell me.

I will fly there.