Monday, October 31, 2011

And Since I Am Dead I Can Take Off My Head & Recite Shakespearean Quotations.

Happy Halloween everyone!!
Nightmare Before Christmas is one of my all-time favorite musicals, movies, childhood memories/ anythings haha. It's my favorite Tim Burton movie and it's just soo damn good. Here's a song from it called "Jack's Lament". If you haven't seen it yet I suggest, no, demand you do it right away.

Godspeed,
C.B.


*Complacence brings Inspiration

Cool Glass of Water

A list,
A potential nickel rich.
The miracle kiss,
I’ve seen a long line
Repeat,
Offended
A long list
Salt on the ice
Burning lovemakker’s kiss
Maker’s mark,
Short stuff
On their knees and yet a smile
Why?
Onward
These long words
Because all the tweed
And nice ties
Fine vests & tux
Can’t buy me love
Oh.
Honey get me flies
So it’s time to try vinegar & lies.


A Warmth

But there’s twist
A turn,
The reverse
A warmth.
It’s not infinite
Not without pain
But it is existent
Step back
Look
And lack, listen.
Hold hands,
There.
There it is.
Among the nutmeg
And the Maker’s mark. 

______________

Where did I go wrong?
Seems sincerity only brings excommunication.

If that be the case then call me Hermit,
only one can hope of a Rose-apple awakening. 





Saturday, October 29, 2011

Oh, the way her tears taste....

Ooo Oo.

Organization Is For The Sane

You’ll learn I lose a lot of things
One of those being my mind,
But don’t worry, I mean I don’t, this happens all the time
Which I forget also, one being time and the fact of forgetfulness
I should get a filing cabinet
But I’ll leave the cabinet to my president,
And armoire for me,
And some filing for my secretary.

I lost my darker pen
So red will have to do
I’ll write these lines,
and wish for times
I didn’t write for you.
But that’s not true
All it was was for you, her, she
It’s a reoccurring theme.
But now I write of deeper things,
And I’ve unstitched my heart from my sleeve
But you can’t put it in a folder or such
You see,
I lost my mind for you.
But now,
I lose it for me.




Thursday, October 27, 2011

It Happened Again, I Woke Up Today & Everything Changed.

Operator
Drumming,
a sound of songs
the last of my thoughts,
it’s singing to me the last of reigning FM tunes,
I want control,
I want a dial
and a thicker yellow pages,
A phone book for the ages.
You see a blackbook ain’t so little
when your legs, open as your heart
and all the pain you bring upon yourself,
your sex is like an art
and though I’ve never sold a masterpiece
I think I know few things,
and just to paint some happy little trees
it’s a thought but not just that, I want a hug, a squeeze.
The thought that from behind me someone cares
and I don’t have to worry
about who I am
or what Im wearing, except for you. A sappy song.
A radio and green grass fields
sad serenades of girl I hoped could feel,
the same and I know it’s only been
one in a thousand
but I’m stuck here in the million and
seems like if I look for just one needle
I’ll prick a finger, and dirty my knees.
Should innocence still be important to me?
It seems nobody’s a virgin cept for me and well mary.


Afternoon everyone,
I don't have much to say but it's been a day or two since I posted so I figured it was about damn time you guys got another poem and hell cause I'm so nice I'll throw another one in here too as well as some music. HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

P.s. Expect a Halloween post :D


The swaying palms of a sulfur paradise

Take a step and watch the break
the last of a long line of false swipes
and coffee breaks.
I’m running out of wit, what I’ve become,
It’s making me sick.
my muse and the hate, 
seem to be inspired by pain
but I already knew this…
but I never wanted to self-inflict
oh my muse where are you?
I miss you?
Make my heart and mind
A spiritual right again.
There’s a lost boy
on the top of a roof and he’s going to jump.
But I can’t save him, I just have to write…
I have to write about him.
Have I scared away all who will catch a fall?  
with a heart of the slip of a step
and a Freudian yell will never bring the back.
If anything I’m just digging my grave,
if anything I’m looking for praise
on a sinking ship of my own masterpiece design
it’s driving me to sink and swim a life of nonexistent whim
wishing, wanting and a wet dream of lost life, love?
It’s such a commonplace call and I never wanted it to collect like this
you see my clever thoughts are like this
Its just a round and a round and around
that s all there is to feel, a wind that shakes the window pane…
it’s like a bad memory, a mercenary with the last of my regrets…
But it’s on the highest floor?
So I guess I want to be the boy now,
to stop the personifying and become an ex persona.
A distraction from a line of loss and libertines,
I wish I could hold on to the last
The last of this life and long road since but the pavement is cracked
and
I’ve lost your tip.
So take a road so traveled it’s a cliché, with a twist,
I’m tired of all these fake loving sinner’s bullshit
I don’t know if hell is my possibility but if I can,
I might retire there early. 



Mother Mother
"Chasing It Down"
Eureka

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Iron "Lotus" Lung would be a cool name for a poem, Just a thought.

I meant to put this video in the last post but it's late and these things slip my mind.
The same time the idea for the poem came to me I immediately thought of this song because some parts or stanzas of the poem and song is are very similar message, picture and story wise.
Plus it's just an awesome song and of course it's Anberlin.


Have I mentioned their my favorite band?

But again I say,
It's very late.
That's "Paperthin Hymn" by Anberlin off Never Take Friendship Personal ^^^^

Again,
Goodnight
And Godspeed,
C.B. Franz

*A Bedridden Call

Bedside Resolve

If entering the room
is a crime all on its own
call me a saint or a sinner.
In 3 year’s time I hope I’ll never know.
The last breath you take
should be one of resolved misogyny
and an ancient art of lunacy of  those
third party calls.
Whom hotel mattress floor symphonies
of that or my epiphanies could ever cry
“I’m Home!”
So far from those
The scarred olive arms, lost with my sensibility.
And these wayward songs seem like dreams to me,
for when I woke the slipped my mind
as I tripped, cracked my crown and bottle
of gasoline.
Of gasoline, the worst of queens
said “Leave it be.”
Just leave me be ,
I’ll never see
the world, a tall song,
will sound the same for we.

A universal,
end causality
could be the least of my worries.
If I could just say sorry so less about so much.
Because a petri dish
was an empty handed experiment
from a
Heavy handed instrument.
I watched a noble guise; I sought
just as Solomon, at least wise
slipped away.
It’s okay,
things will change.
But I think it for the worst,
for the ideas
this time may burst.

Death, the inevitable and reoccurring theme,
A eulogy, for a casket, an urn
only in my insomniatic dreams
during a child’s remembrance
and a box in my attic, cerebral contexts.

if I thought, would I stop
and if I wrote
would I choke, salty tears.
We drink therefore we are,
If we smoke then we die
And we no but we don’t care
“It’s a social experience”
A life of death reciprocate
a force of will,
limp and a kiss.

If you pass,
my words at last
might be yours to hear.

A reality.
A cataract melody
clouding my lack of sleep.
And abuse of these uniques.

it’s an innocence
or lack there of,
Whether wisdom gained
was worth,
and stains upon the page are
dark enough.

Don’t die before me.
or maybe you should.
I stopped being blunt for the greater good
of my sanity.
Let’s see if this god,
(in whom I believed)
and if I’m sure I know what is
good.
Is it another goose chase for 3?
Me, myself and thee
but you left.
So it’s we.
And what about we?
Gee,
Would THIS be your eulogy?
What a pity,
What a nuisance.
Wow, how selfish of thee.


So you're lucky,
We're lucky I'm an insomniac and that my brain and heart both kick started 

at 3 in the morning and had me writing till 4.
Thanks emotions.

Well aside from how disgruntled and sleep I am here's a new freshly written poem,
And on that note I would like to institute a new "thing";
Anytime you see an asterisk "*" before the title of the post this means that it's a new, recently written poem. Up until now I have been posting older poems, the one's I've already written and have archived and trust me there's still plenty of those but of course there will be new ones.
So keep the asterisk in mind, I like to think it will help affect how you read the poem.

Also, Along with this poem I started writing another one called "Graveyard Billings"
But it's now 4:13 am
And I have class in less than 4 hours.
And I have to get up in less than 3.
and the poem isn't done yet, so no second new poem.
But such is life.

Goodnight,
And Godspeed,
C.B. Franz

Monday, October 24, 2011

Re-Enter Your World With An Open Mind

"Work out your own salvation with diligence."

I was wrong.

Hey guys & dolls,
I've got a whole boat load of work to do today so I don't really think I'll be posting anything tonight. I just wanted to give a heads up and touch base and at least give you guys something to chew on. Here's a tasty acoustic session from Circa Survive, one of my favorite songs by them " Get Out" it's off their Blue Sky Noise album

Godspeed,
C.B. Franz

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Matchmaker

Muse

I doubt you wanted to me to write
About her, a righter in my past.
A path stuck in the dark,
Desires, sin within my heart.
Muse is there
I didn’t know her
But she decided to show her
Glowing face to me
She runs through my mind and down
With the ink, through fibers
Whispers in my ear
You’d think I want to date her

But I don’t think it’ll ever be that way
She’ll show me the way.
But I know she can’t come
She’s got her own bridges to burn
But I wish I could hold the match with her.

Soup of the day


I fear we’re living in tomorrow hurting nostalgia.
I see a correlation ;
The lack of salvation of our mortal muse souls,
stuck to a spinning wheel of lust
upon which I throw paint with flattering words

and they spit in my face …

because the truth won’t give me good looks,
and an ugly humor, or laughter never made anyone horny.

Because when scrap booking ceases to be a hobby but a hindrance
all the song birds with a swollen tongue
and falling feathers will be stuffed on my shelves,
next to my greasy, black trophies.
An undying homage to the bearskin rug life I live.
HA.
Ha.
ha.
My words sound like a flowery boys’ choir, with a fist full of ash

And eyes full of a naiveté flood.



Well wouldja just have a look-see at this? TWO poems?
Someone's been good this year.
But no, in all honesty I just wanted to post two because they both fit situations/feelings sort of that i'm in right now. Oddly enough I wrote them both a while/not recently ago, funny and poetry works that, the universality of it, just like music as well.
Speaking of which I'm currently to the Fleet Foxes album Helplessness Blues which is a top notch album by the way, and here's a little taste of it.



Fleet Foxes
"The Plains/ Bitter Dancer"
from Helplessness Blues

Friday, October 21, 2011

...Oh the Irony....

Sight un-seen

Baby, the loss
of abundance, a lack of consideration
The thought of a chorus of virgins lost;
It stains my heart,
Curdles my blood and my hat winds up in the mud.
An archaic struggle, loss of blood                                             And the possibility of a “hold on tight.”
The last article of clothes,
a pair of panties on the ground
with a heart in the clouds, it seems like I wish I knew.
A song in my head, and my heart half dead;
That’s the least that god could do.
Just a deity of hope, that I’ve turn my back on
It seems we’ve given up on me.
The emotional sting of the loss of a ring
Stained with the blood of my tongue with the silver words so clean,
I worked so hard not to break your heart,
Have the respect to do the same thing for me.
A heart break kid, a red ink stain in the pocket protector of my brain.
That’s it.
I’m done.
I’m gone.



Posting poetry during english class...oh the irony.
Good morning "everyone", or maybe as of now AT MOST 4 or 5 people.
Normally I don't bring my computer to class but it's a 3 hour class on Friday...
It's needed.
It's very needed.

I couldn't tell you why I wanted to post this song but I do.
It doesn't have really anything to do with the poem, at least that's not why I'm posting it.

It's a good song, and it's running through my 
head currently and hell I need to finally add something to the music page.

It's actually quite dead on in theme with a lot of my other poems....
*foreshadowing*

Mother Mother - Burning Pile 


Thursday, October 20, 2011

Maintenance or Complaining

If the text  for the poems, which as of now is Lucida Handwriting because that's what the font is in the word document I'm using to transpose them all is, is too hard read shoot me an email or a comment and I'll change it up or post in the "Poems" page in a different font.

Also, If the posts are too hard to read or just annoying due to the transparency
of my awareness/background let me know.

Well that's all for now I believe.

P.s. I lied
P.p.s. If you find a spelling error or syntax error outside of the poems (or spelling within the poems) let me know cause that is one of my biggest pet peeves if I notice it.
P.p.p.s. If it's a spelling error in a poem double check that it might not just have meant to be spelled that way.

Godspeed,
C.B. Franz

Good Evening Ladies & Gentlemen.

Ashes In The Wind

The Never-ending Ink,
Gashes the paper, leaving grooves of
Angry words, emotions etched into the paper
Heart ready to break,
The pen stabbing slashing
Un-ending siege of internal conflict and written
Resolution.
Crackling, Crinkling 
Fills the winter air,
As the silence screams, yet there is
No resonance of the written.
Delicate, light as air
Ink still visible,
Darkened hands liberate
The ashes in the wind. 


I couldn't think of anything clever to start off with so I decided to start with a poem,
oddly enough you think that would be obvious for this blog since it's based around poetry and writing but I'm a bit thick.

On that note, Welcome to The House On Ridge Road.

This is where I'll be posting alot of my poetry, I'll try and make it one poem a day but I'm a very inconsistent person, along with poems will be other short stories, videos, music suggestions, and maybe some of my own music and art, my own musings and thoughts of course.

That's the basic gist of it, check out the "About We." page ----------------->
to really get a good explanation.

The poem above is the first poem I've ever written and seemed fitting for the "first" post.
I put first in quotes for the very apparent reason that it is obviously not my first post, this used to be a blog I made for a creative writing class in school but i've thus changed it to try and get my writing out there so you will notice a few more poems earlier on. I've removed some of the earlier
school related posts to keep it clean but I left these to give you a good taste of my writing style and a little more to chew on than just one poem and some wordy explaining.

Well,
This is my blog.
*shudder* I don't like the word blog.
I must come up with another more appropriate word,
But until then

Godspeed,
C.B. Franz