Average Joe - Average Jane

When two people meet, there's a spark, the spark is born and takes shape by our emotions; the spark feeds off of these emotions, we gain strength from these sparks, but when the spark dies, we are at our utterly weakest. Our world's seemingly collapse around us as we become nothing more than a shadowy husk of our former selves. The spark within each of us is always strong, it never dies for any singular reason, and yet it never grows unless we allow it to. If we let it simply pop and crackle within us, then it can't grow stronger, we can't grow stronger, and in that instance, we are weak in both body and spirit. Whether we make it grow stronger on our own, in the quiet bedrooms without a soul around, or with the person who first created the spark, strengthening it together, or with a group of people, each holding an inferno of brightly burning sparks within them, as long as we allow these sparks to grow, so too do we grow.

Average Joe - Average Jane, I don't know why I wrote this, it's romantic in a way, almost comical, almost melodramatic, but it holds a certain power. It reminds me of better days, days to come that will be even better, and days undreamed of that we can't determine. Short and obnoxiously sweet, I give you my most recent poetic piece.

Average morning,
Average Pain,
Average warning,
For Average Jane,

Average Evening,

Average low,                                 

Average seething,

For Average Joe,

Average tasks,

Average fright,

Average Joe asks

Average Jane out tonight,

Average date,

Average heart,

Average mate,

Average start,

Average love,

Average woo,

Could my Average Jane,

Be you?

Heartbeats

 So, I've been thinking lately, no one really stops to write poems about the things we hear. I mean, even sitting at my desk at work, I hear the clacking of keyboard keys, the sound of a printer running, the mechanical wheels of a scanner feeding paper through itself, and even I hear my music playing softly to my left, but if I shut my eyes, listen closely, I can hear the soft drumming of my heart, and it's oddly soothing. 

What your heart says is important, but just by listening to nothing, you can hear everything.

What is that sound I hear?

Mice scurrying about in the walls?

Scratching about in fear?

No, too loud to be paws.

It’s almost a thump, thump,

I hear from below,

Perhaps a neighbor’s bump,

Hammer and nail the cheeky fellow,

No, no, it’s quieter than that,

It sounds soft as well,

Hardly a racket or drum pat,

It’s like a soft tum, tum, swell

A feeling now, a feeling I find,

Growing, spreading, boring,

Deep and warm, a burning kind

Feelings of wings soaring,

What is this sound,

growing louder now,

Tum thump, in the round,

Growing louder now,

Tum thump, it’s filling my ears,

Tum Thump it falls deaf to my peers,

My heart,  it beats loudly,

My heart speaks out proudly,

“Love”, it says over and over,

“Love”, it says “before it’s over”.

The Tired Mind Writes the Best Sonnets

Too tired... Too long of a day, too weird of a day, but also it was fun... Here's someting my brain came up with at 2:00 AM. You are welcome, I hope you enjoy it... Someday it will be read and someone will think that I was talking about the deep inner feelings that lay within each and every human being, perpetuating the individuality of modern society as a constant objection to the natural way of things, the evolution of the dogmatic days of yore into the technological giga-monoloths which stand towering overhead that somehow depict the frailty of the human condition by simply saying "no", or they'll say, "Oh God, another Graue poem... Why do I have to study this?" HA! Enjoy!



The late night witching hour is almost come,
Yet here I am, awake, biting my thumbs,
Unable to sleep and dream of a sweet find,
Blanket and Pillow, take away my mind.

Let me drift on clouds as I have oft done!
Let me rest on flowerbeds in the sun!
If not a moment of your precious sleep,
then pray my sanity am I to keep!

A new day dawns and I've not shut my eyes!
The red sun peels back the night in the skies,
My pillow I clutch tight, pleading for rest!
How can I start the day not at my best?!

Stars twinkling, give me all your power,
close my eyes tight and turn my heart sour,
silence my deep thoughts, let them stir me not,
As I try to sleep in what time I've got.

The Knight's End

Boy, oh boy, with all these final exams and books that I have to read, I think I might have given bit too big of a bite to chew. Anyways! Here's a... Well... I suppose you could call it a sonnet, I gave up on rhyme scheme halfway through because it sounded awesome. ANYWAYS! Enjoy, share, be excellent! Oh! And keep watching for my unfinished novel! 12,000 words over the course of a week and a half for NaNoWriMo, not half bad if I do say so myself.

In earnest the queen's knight galloped far and away,

Lance on leash as his body pushed against the wind,

Not on horse of course for that would be rude to say,

Hugging turns at neck-breaking speeds around the bend,

Night falls and out did come the vilest of fiends and beasts,

Hell's heart fluttered at the sight of a sharp drawn sword,

Our brave hero plunges out into the blood feasts,

As our brave hero charged against the devil's horde

The world shook with thundering anticipation,

The great winds howled with adoring adulation,

The demons screamed in endless dilapidation,

The hero's victory through decapitation,

The devil lay dead with stolen face on his skull,

As a hero's story never ends till his soul it did take,

Laughing evilly as the hero made his hole,

A deep grave for his sword in his chest he did make,

Pilgrims came, praising the knight who'd slain the evil,

But never did a single soul know that knight's sin,

Passage of time breaking through minds of the people,

Satan raised his horde and the knight was born again.

Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2

So, this is what you come up with at 2:00 am, while you are doing laundry, and you are mentally drained from writing serious NaNoWriMo stuff. Well, when I do finish my novel, I'll probably only post snippets of it here so as not to present a gigantic wall of text for people to read in one sitting... Maybe I'll split it up into chapters and post it over time... Meh, stuff to think about AFTER I finish it! Now, I give you my Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2! (Oh, I forgot to mention, I even printed this out and taped it to the dryer in question! Bwahahahaha!!)

Ode to the Shitty Dryer on Floor 2

Oh, this dryer is so chill,

It must be smoking pot,

It drives people to kill,

Because it NEVER gets hot,

Your clothes will smell sour,

And your undies will be wet,

Because even after an hour,

Dry, your laundry will not get,

"Come on! I've got to go to class!"

You say, but still you'll always know,

That this dryer belongs in the trash,

It really, really, REALLY needs to go,

So, if you want warm socks on this cold winter day,

Pick another dryer is honestly all I can say!

Alphabet Poem

So, obviously this is the first thing I've posted in... a very long time, well, I've been busy with school, so please forgive me. Here! Have a poem!

Angels are for praying, a confusing thing,

Beaches are for playing, single wooden wing,

Cars are for adventuring, into the night we go,

Dogs are for indenturing, joyful feelings in flow,

Ears are for listening, that thing we rarely do,

Feelings are for hurting, each one right on cue,

Gears are for turning, time ever coursing on,

Hearts are for moving, always here always gone,

Identities are for hiding, glasses to disguise,

Jetties are for jumping, from the Earth to the skies,

Kettles are for boiling, tea is sweet enough for me,

Lemons are for squeezing, holding that heart free,

Mimics are for copying, always mirrors and lakes,

Nobles are for curtsying, never to be called fakes,

Olives are for squishing, gnashing and smashing flat,

Pots are for gardening, seeds growing into fruits so fat,

Quarrels are for fighting, blood boiling into your nerves,

Roads are for travelling, taking he who always serves,

Satchels are for carrying, jewels in a pocket shine bright,

Truths are for saying, never doubt the moon while out at night,

Umbrellas are for shielding, one is good enough for two,

Villains are for hating, the best villain is a good man too,

Winds are for speaking, breezy messages tickling ears,

Xylographs are for reading, knife to wood messages or fears,

Yeuks are for pestering, those itching hands never find them,

Zeugmas are for describing, those tiny moments in life you do on a whim.

The Writer's Art

So, obviously I've been busy with school starting up again, but hopefully this simple sonnet will sate your thirsts for new "Words of Graue". It's been so long since my last post, I feel ashamed!! Not much else to say, well, aside from random thoughts... Hopefully I'll have enough time over this semester to actually post more chapters of Blade of Highleaf, that's too much fun to let die!

Enjoy the sonnet!

Inspiration, striking like lightning from cloudy skies,

Sundering fast the mind of the writer where he sits,

Engraving the urge, the need, the desire to defy,

That white paper's stark, clean skin, tainted with ink-y slits,

Taking his weapon, a quill with a point like a spear,

His hand trembling, like leaves caressed by the wind mistress,

Fingers clenched about the plume, itching for ink to smear,

Like a maiden waiting to dance, clutching at her dress,

The writer slashes and strokes, coating the world in words,

Beautifying the void of logical human minds,

A dance, a samba, a duel, a game, a song of birds,

Subtle seductions of the elements and their binds,

Letters, words, phrases, lines, paragraphs, pages, chapter,

Tools of the word smith, always, forever, and after.

An Ode to Chaos

Chaos, that fickle, uncoordinated, unanticipated, unappreciated concept of life that sheds light on even the most inane and inert of features of the world around us. And yet at the same time, Chaos continues to unfold, un-imagine, and undo everything, whether it be great plans, small ideas, a great building of man, or a small creature's hole in the forest. It strikes, blindly, without prejudice, and without it Humanity itself would not be what it is today. Chaos represents the growth and ability of mankind to learn, adapt, survive, and thrive.

I call this an Ode to Chaos, but really it's more than that, to me it's a jumble of chaotic words thrown at a screen at 2 am when the world is quiet except for the music blaring through your headphones, there's nothing to disturb you, there's nothing to stop you, and further more, there's nothing to do except to think. As Charles' Dickens coined in A Tale of Two Cities, and as I will use for my own illustrative purposes here: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

Read, Enjoy, and remember, the world is a more interesting place thanks to Chaos. - Graue

Like a sycophant, that's the feeling, something that was not meant to exist.

Even in the world he seemed empty,

A gaping, gouging, gauging hole,

Something that gave the world a sight,

Something that gave them a fright.

Like a cackling demon perched upon the mightiest of shoulders, it was always staining each word with it's foul ocher.

His head hung ever lower with every thought,

The silk noose about his neck pulling taut,

A man no more, a man is such a dull bore,

He needed a new sight to see a new sandy shore,

When the world is black and meaningless, what constitutes conviction to it's inhabitants.

A soft speck of weakness drips upon his forehead,

urging his neck to crane and raise his eyelids of lead,

Would it be that he was to be delivered or would he be dead,

Cringing forever as the second drop hit and he cruelly fed.

A million voices speak, a million more scream, a million more whisper, a million more sing, yet none are really heard.

Adulation, degradation, conflagration, initiation, subjugation

Words abound to give meaning to that which has no dictation,

Elation abounds but none to grace my lips as I catch the rain,

A tender hand on mine calms the storm, ends the old pain,

Insatiable appetite for the sated, the peaceful striking at the peace keepers, illumination for the blind, and all of this for no one that wants it.