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alex-leeper
Poems2
Followers5
Words356
There's something about everything about nothing about how we were created, tiny blips in a system of "Nothing Even Matters" starring the worst producers in the universe. One could catch a glimpse of us as they pass by to get to somewhere better and laugh, and shake their heads and they would know our only purpose in existence was to make them feel better inside. But whoever writes a book in the view of the indifferent? Whoever directs a movie where nothing different happens? That's like asking who remembers the forgotten, it's possible but ever so unlikely, and sure as sine is undulated, under appreciated, somewhat very deflated, and though we aren't remembered, we sure aren't too terribly hated. There's something about anything that could be distributed as significance in this underrated little beauty, flourished world that runs about full of life and clarity, streaming with disparity, slow depreciating, and sometimes we're defeating the purpose of why we're unique, and we slowly take the filters out of our little selfie, loosing all this isn't healthy, and we diminish all signs of any significance and we become as lifeless as a meteor, and I sometimes think "What is this for?" And then I simply sigh and take my sunglasses outside and stare into the sun, and wonder if anyone in the entire world has gotten off their iPhones or TVs and stared at the sun along with me. There's something about how I feel when the little things get to me, like grades or dating drama, getting larger, more dramatic, oh it's such a ceaseless phlegmatic, and I sit at my stirring house and wonder how I can bear to live it anymore. But then I start to realise the person passing over is really staring us in the face and watching this world run in place. I'm not going to think about it anymore, it's all part of Earth's perpetual cycle, I'm not going to stop this utter nonsense now because it's time for me to go to my next class.
0
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 9:49 AM UTC
alex-leeper
There's Something
There's something about everything about nothing about how we were created, tiny blips in a system of "Nothing Even Matters" starring the worst producers in the universe. One could catch a glimpse of us as they pass by to get to somewhere better and laugh, and shake their heads and they would know our only purpose in existence was to make them feel better inside. But whoever writes a book in the view of the indifferent? Whoever directs a movie where nothing different happens? That's like asking who remembers the forgotten, it's possible but ever so unlikely, and sure as sine is undulated, under appreciated, somewhat very deflated, and though we aren't remembered, we sure aren't too terribly hated. There's something about anything that could be distributed as significance in this underrated little beauty, flourished world that runs about full of life and clarity, streaming with disparity, slow depreciating, and sometimes we're defeating the purpose of why we're unique, and we slowly take the filters out of our little selfie, loosing all this isn't healthy, and we diminish all signs of any significance and we become as lifeless as a meteor, and I sometimes think "What is this for?" And then I simply sigh and take my sunglasses outside and stare into the sun, and wonder if anyone in the entire world has gotten off their iPhones or TVs and stared at the sun along with me. There's something about how I feel when the little things get to me, like grades or dating drama, getting larger, more dramatic, oh it's such a ceaseless phlegmatic, and I sit at my stirring house and wonder how I can bear to live it anymore. But then I start to realise the person passing over is really staring us in the face and watching this world run in place. I'm not going to think about it anymore, it's all part of Earth's perpetual cycle, I'm not going to stop this utter nonsense now because it's time for me to go to my next class.
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3
Song Intro Your bedroom leaves you behind, Remembering a blurry background. You’re not in your world anymore. Look up, look down. Blue sky, and a green floor. Look in between and another color Strikes you like a knife, And then another color, and another. You've been stabbed by a tree. First Verse You're vision is the clearest it's ever been, Each individual crease on every leaf. The trunk is a clear brown, the browniest brown That brings back blips of brainwork that believe to be begotten. Crystal-like yellow leaves, As if someone took the image And manually added the color. But you know it's a physical object, You can walk around it and see the back of it, And soon You gain The confidence To touch it. Second Verse A pulse deep in the tree as you run your fingers across it. As you recline yourself, The knife turns gray And the once eye-catching yellow Silver leaves dance tauntingly towards another color, A slow-moving car that tapped you on the back. A hill overlooking a hill, With a forest of grey trees. You notice one is lit up, A carbon replica of the previous chromatic timber, And is begging for attention. Chorus You almost fly down the hill, Isaac’s first helping you descend. You alight beside the single resplendent floral, Its chromaticity illuminating its ashen brothers. Brush its rigid shell, The lights fade in its core, But analogously, Its closest neighbor is afire, You now understand, You are following a circuit in the wilderness. Third Verse You start to gain impatience now, You flow through the achromic forest Touching every blush of color you see, Following the maze of crayoned woods, Journeying, immersing, submerging deeper Into a blank woodland. You soon come across something, Hidden in the bright green grass. A mirror, a flat, square plank Of cooled and melted obsidian rock. A light ray reflects off it. You pick it up, the ray bouncing back and forth, And store it in your pocket. Fourth Verse You almost loose hope, Not to mention interest, About your current predicament, But something, something about the atmosphere- You stop. You know to stop, just for a second, An epiphany. You look once, twice, three Quick turnarounds until it glimmers in your eye. A barely gleaming church door. And you realize. Chorus You realize so intensely, You almost can’t perform the action. You pull out the mirror with glee, Catch a small ray through its skin, Aim the ray towards the door, And you spray The sunshine Onto the Door. Second Chorus Your mouth agape as the perfect light Reflects onto the invisible passageway, Causing it to enamel the door with a beautiful shade Of orange. You spray the door planks with your infinite atomizer, Covering the small blotches you missed Until you drop the mirror, turn around, Say goodbye to the gloomy forest, But discover an luminous explosion of color. Each tree has awakened for your departing. You smile, and turn around, Pull the doors open and walk into the white. Outro Blurry background. You recognize it as if you never left. Because you didn’t really leave, You see yourself asleep on your bed. It’s everything you remember but just a hint Of chromaticity is left behind the walls. Not wanting the feeling to end, Waiting until just the right time To finally elope from your now distant memory And regenerate to another adventure In which you hope will have meaning.
0
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
alex-leeper
Song
Song Intro Your bedroom leaves you behind, Remembering a blurry background. You’re not in your world anymore. Look up, look down. Blue sky, and a green floor. Look in between and another color Strikes you like a knife, And then another color, and another. You've been stabbed by a tree. First Verse You're vision is the clearest it's ever been, Each individual crease on every leaf. The trunk is a clear brown, the browniest brown That brings back blips of brainwork that believe to be begotten. Crystal-like yellow leaves, As if someone took the image And manually added the color. But you know it's a physical object, You can walk around it and see the back of it, And soon You gain The confidence To touch it. Second Verse A pulse deep in the tree as you run your fingers across it. As you recline yourself, The knife turns gray And the once eye-catching yellow Silver leaves dance tauntingly towards another color, A slow-moving car that tapped you on the back. A hill overlooking a hill, With a forest of grey trees. You notice one is lit up, A carbon replica of the previous chromatic timber, And is begging for attention. Chorus You almost fly down the hill, Isaac’s first helping you descend. You alight beside the single resplendent floral, Its chromaticity illuminating its ashen brothers. Brush its rigid shell, The lights fade in its core, But analogously, Its closest neighbor is afire, You now understand, You are following a circuit in the wilderness. Third Verse You start to gain impatience now, You flow through the achromic forest Touching every blush of color you see, Following the maze of crayoned woods, Journeying, immersing, submerging deeper Into a blank woodland. You soon come across something, Hidden in the bright green grass. A mirror, a flat, square plank Of cooled and melted obsidian rock. A light ray reflects off it. You pick it up, the ray bouncing back and forth, And store it in your pocket. Fourth Verse You almost loose hope, Not to mention interest, About your current predicament, But something, something about the atmosphere- You stop. You know to stop, just for a second, An epiphany. You look once, twice, three Quick turnarounds until it glimmers in your eye. A barely gleaming church door. And you realize. Chorus You realize so intensely, You almost can’t perform the action. You pull out the mirror with glee, Catch a small ray through its skin, Aim the ray towards the door, And you spray The sunshine Onto the Door. Second Chorus Your mouth agape as the perfect light Reflects onto the invisible passageway, Causing it to enamel the door with a beautiful shade Of orange. You spray the door planks with your infinite atomizer, Covering the small blotches you missed Until you drop the mirror, turn around, Say goodbye to the gloomy forest, But discover an luminous explosion of color. Each tree has awakened for your departing. You smile, and turn around, Pull the doors open and walk into the white. Outro Blurry background. You recognize it as if you never left. Because you didn’t really leave, You see yourself asleep on your bed. It’s everything you remember but just a hint Of chromaticity is left behind the walls. Not wanting the feeling to end, Waiting until just the right time To finally elope from your now distant memory And regenerate to another adventure In which you hope will have meaning.
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