Amongst The Graves, A Poem

Thursday, August 12Th, 3:50 P.M.
Mood: Poetic, Excited
Music: 2112, by Rush

Amongst The Graves, A Poem
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Darkness creeps across the stones,
and mingles with the sinking bones,

and stirs within a chilling sense,
of life and it's indifference.

For here they care not what you did in life,
there is no hurry here, no eternal strife,

only rest and quiet.

A grinning skull, a sunken tomb,
the dark, the damp, the endless gloom.

Fills me with a sense of dread,
as I sit here amongst the dead,

and think of life and all it's pain,
the loss, the strife, the thoughts of gain.

But there is none of that amongst the graves.

No greed, no toil no suffering,
only rest.

The restful bones, the sleeping bones,
the ancients now make here their homes.

They sleep in their beds so peacefully,
and it seems as if they speak to me,

And reach towards with bony hands,
some goal eternal rest demands,

And I will sit amongst the graves,
in peace until the end of days,

And I will join them there at last,
and there find peace at long, at last.

And sleep here in a stony tomb,
fearing no more my mortal doom.

Here amongst the graves.

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The Rain, A Poem

Thursday, July 22Nd, 2:11 A.M.
Mood: Tired, Fascinated
Music: Voyager, by Daft Punk


The Rain, A Poem.
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See the rain, the lovely rain,
as it goes trickling down my skin.

Let it fill you, bind you, send you,
into the memories of then.

And see the rain, the noble rain,
as it falls to cobbled streets bellow,

And watch it run beneath the feet,
of the people as they come and go.

And remember then as we walked,
together in the rainy, misty weather,
the fog as it curled about,
and clung to the hem of our cloaks as we walked,
on that dank morning so long ago.

We looked about and in the rain,
you whispered of the things you saw,
the life, the light.

Though all I saw was death,
and sorrow, you saw happiness.

I remember you, your gentle manner,
your smile, your whisper, your ways.

The way you could lift the gloom,
and take me from this preemptive tomb,
and banish the darkness.

Though it never truly left.
It clung to me, never leaving.
Even in the light it hid in the corners of the room.

Waiting to fill my mind with thoughts of dread and doom.


And now without you it swirls about me,
never leaving.

Never leaving.

It has become my friend, my aid,
my companion.

Like the rain.
The Cold.

They are my family now,
my only friends.

But I remember.
I remember because of the rain.

The noble rain.
The gentle rain.

And as it trickles down my face.
I lift my head up to the sky and call your name.

And feel the rain.

The rain upon my skin.

As it has always been, here with me.

In the rain.

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Pondering the Skull

Friday, June 4Th, 7:17 P.M.
Mood: Much Better, Contemplative
Music: Beautiful Day, by U2


The ancients often contemplated the skull and all of it's meanings. As early as the fourteenth century we see examples of monks collecting skulls and, believing them to be the home of the soul, collected hundreds of them and built them into walls, chandeliers, and even furniture.



The skull is a really fascinating thing to me, as it holds so much significance for so many cultures. It carries not only symbols of death for some cultures, but symbols of victory, rebirth, or the ascension into the afterlife.

The skull is a symbol of death, and as prince hamlet so eloquently put it, "Poor Yorik, alas, I knew him well." But why has it become associated with death? Perhaps it is the first thing that we, as humans see in a skeleton of a poor dead soul. Perhaps we are looking for a face, and seeing the cold dead eye sockets of a skull are put off by their cold and unemotional gaze. Perhaps.

Tim Burton Stuff

Wednesday, April 29, 9:46 A.M.

Mood: Gloomy

Music: Clocks, by Coldplay

I have to say that by far Tim Burton is my favorite film maker.
His twisted and gloomy settings, dark yet inspiring stories, and all around flair keep me enthralled and calling for more.

My favorite film of his, strangely enough, is a little known stop motion animation he created at Disney early in his film career. It is entitled Vincent.

(To Watch Vincent, Please Click Below)





Vincent is the story of a small boy who wants to grow up to be like Vincent Price. All throughout the seven minute film Vincent's regular life is shown in mostly white and gray scenes (the film was in black and white) that show him doing such things as playing with his sister, his dog, speaking nicely with his aunt and putting up with living in a crowded house.

The scenes then switch to his inner fantasies, what he wants his life to be like.

He imagines living alone in a dark and spacious home where he can "wander the halls, alone and tormented", dunking his aunt in a vat of wax, and preforming experiments on his dog, ambercrombie ( in hopes of creating a horrible zombie.)

He is sent to his room in the middle of the film for digging up his mother's flower garden in hopes of finding his "poor dead wife". After being banished to his room he sits alone and reads Edgar Allan Poe. (While other children read books like, Go Dog Go, Vincent's favorite author was Edgar Allan Poe.) After reading he pretends to be the tormented main character in The Raven. He imagines that he is trapped in his room forever, with only a portrait of his "beloved lost Loraine" to keep him company. He convinces himself that it has been years and that he is going insane. In the final scene he falls to the floor and, quoting Poe, says

"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!


Interestingly enough, after it's completion the film was rejected by Disney for being "To dark for children."

I personally think this film is brilliant and one of Burton's best.


No matter what your opinion of him is, you must admit he is a brilliant and visionary director not only in terms of cinematography, but writing as well.

I hope he continues to make films that delight and inspire the eccentric in all of us.

Sad and Lonely I now Sit

Thursday, April 22, 10:24
Mood : Wistful
Music: Northern Skies, by Dido






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Sad and Weary I now Sit.
A Poem.
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Sad and weary I now sit
a credit to my end.
For she is dead and gone away.
her eyes, nevermore shall lift,
to heavens high or earth below
the ground in it's embrace, covers all and hides in dark,
her gentle, smiling face.

Tis Gone.

Tis Dead.

All over shall it be.

And tears roll down my stony face,
into an endless sea
that churns, and breaks, and cries, as if bemoaning me.

And for all a credit to my life,
Death and I go hand in hand.

Into Eternity.

And now I leave alone, alas,

that silent, cold deep sea.