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Darkmoogle
22 July 2011 @ 10:14 am
this is the third or fourth time i've made one of these posts, but clearly i don't come around here often anymore. i'm now a facebook/blogger kinda guy. facebook you should be able to find me on easily enough. the blog is at http://traditionology.blogspot.com and has more posts than pageviews, just the way i like it.
 
 
Darkmoogle
06 January 2011 @ 05:30 am
i said,
"i know the fire will come for me one day,
you don't even have to remind me anymore."
the forces i play with
and the fates i tempt daily,
to remain ignorant of this
would be folly

yet i remain
for knowledge or security
or comfort or direction
or this is all just a test of faith
which one way or another
i'll be the last to know if i fail

shed no tear my smiling scarlet wine
aging gracefully in the safety of the attic
where its cool nonetheless
occasionally disturbed in fits of nostalgia
adding not refinement but emotion to taste

ask no questions, abandoned friends
for those pave the road i walk today
and left unchecked will lead you to the same end
though for a select few no other end will do

though for now the clouds part freely for my gaze
and the trees bend back to ease my passage
i know that soon night will fall again

and i will die tired,
lonely, far from home

i would not wish that upon you





for the Falling
 
 
Darkmoogle
12 December 2010 @ 07:55 pm
another long letter thrown haphazardly at the sky, aimed at a specific one. it'll probably flutter back to earth, three inches from where i turned and walked away. but, dammit, i have things to say, and said some of them. the rest have to wait a few days.
 
 
Darkmoogle
31 October 2010 @ 04:06 am
circling back around, turning towards familiar smells and broken-in pillows in the twilight (or is this dawn which approaches, segues the black into lavenders and ceruleans? metropolitan sky, all drowned in graffiti. what? i've collected over a hundred pages of poetry from the last four years? i keep adding, but never get any closer to answering that little nagging question "why?"... eventually you'll be able to examine the years like tree rings - oh, here was a fire, there was a bad winter... it's a form of keeping history, taking notes on the details to jog future memories...

cough cough bleed i've gotten three large permanent scars on my left hand in the last two months
 
 
Darkmoogle
08 September 2010 @ 05:41 pm
doomed to repeat the same mistakes i think, falling asleep amongst pages and piles of writing, fiction drawn from non-fiction to try to make sense of an uncooperative self. five pee-em and this avalanche of words has buried me, screaming lullabies, praying for me to rest. i might. why not? this year has already turned towards dusk, contrast diminished, all things fading to gray tones. i keep saying "i don't have it in me to do this again, to fight another round," but i do. it's mostly a question of want.

excuses to momentarily mingle with a demon and a sacrificial goat, to share nicotine with the damned and damning...

but this is good enough for me, all deserved, some hundreds pages of regret to snuggle beneath in the twilight.
 
 
 
Darkmoogle
the final sun set in the west, melting from yellow to orange to red to blood that spilled down the streets in torrents and waves as threads were cut and projects completed and the final lingering harbingers of sin left unscathed to wander the alleys over the preceding months finally met the end promised by...

in the last moments came death screams echoing down alleys, simultaneously reaching my ears from various directions as i cast about seeking proof or denial or safety or doom and as usual found nothing but the disembodied cheshire cat grin perpetually floating along at my side or back or front, all teeth and glowing eyes, restricted to simplicity but capable of...

as dusk led to night and night led to the blackness reserved for tombs all the towns became constellations strung together by rumor and myth, given power by those who believe, apt to leap forth from the confines of earth to fly headlong through the heavens in search of the solace promised them at birth only to find that none exists, that there is no peace but...

familiar, the watcher of dawn stands away from this righteous carnage, fearful and anxious as he ponders an offer of aging, too shy for the loneliness he thinks, too human to consider recycling and resting, too curious about eternity and those who roam it, too few years past to consider the multiples and exponents required to reach the end, a quiet place inhabited by...

was love my sin? no; no.
Tags:
 
 
Current Location: distant
Current Mood: distant
Current Music: distant
 
 
Darkmoogle
20 January 2009 @ 03:40 pm
feb '04:
http://img380.imageshack.us/img380/6594/cygnusjm3.jpg

june '08:
http://img92.imageshack.us/img92/7591/image221qp5.jpg

dec '08:
http://img360.imageshack.us/img360/3069/mikenewtatyv8.jpg

still at myspace.
pages of writing have popped up since thanksgiving.
photography is over until my laptop is fixed.




...friends needed. :/
 
 
Current Music: La Dispute - Somewhere At The Bottom Of The River Between Vega And Altair
 
 
Darkmoogle
24 June 2008 @ 04:14 pm
livejournal feels pointless now.

www.myspace.com/traditionology
the-darkmoogle.deviantart.com

i had a dream that felt final. a memory no longer clear enough to bring into focus during the day. a room of stained glass, an isolated corner of The Church realized in whole. i was standing, looking up into the sun, and she was there. no words were spoken; there were simply smiles, both relieved and sad, and an embrace. then she faded, and i smiled again at the colors.

the memory is gone, and i can no longer see her eyes.

but i think the pain has faded.
 
 
Darkmoogle
16 March 2008 @ 08:07 pm
ok.  
sorry. maybe that's all i needed to hear.
 
 
Darkmoogle
13 March 2008 @ 11:20 pm
...some lines borrowed.
---

she reaches out for nobody,
hiding in the mountains,
waiting for a breeze,
alone with her sadness.
she calls no names.

meanwhile...
flutterings of those who have left
echo upwards through this january rain.
how many hours have i smoked away
in these quiet porchside reveries,
as the airplanes roared overhead?
lost in dreams of airport anticipation
and terminal scenes of reunion;
i hear planes,
but are they hidden in the clouds above,
or muffled beneath years of memories?
in the smoke drifting from my mouth,
it could be both; it could be neither.

*lighter* *puff* *cough*
ridiculous nihilistic salvation,
simplest solitary self-destruction.
another casualty,
another day.

a telepathic message to the one who receives -
tell me how to stop waiting, or how to start this all over -
tell me why you left, and how and where and when, and tell me again -
this mind is a sieve that loses all the days except the good ones,
and i've forgotten why i stand to face each day and night alone.
tell me or write me or sing, as someone once said they would -
elaborate, please, i need it.

we live in fucked up times.
can one good man overcome the faults of his generation?
maybe a good man can.
but as for me,
i can still try,
aiming my fire at emptiness.
*lighter* *cough* *fire crackles*
you've never heard anyone talk this much about silence.
 
 
Current Location: chicago
Current Music: this will destroy you - young mountain