tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38099092011-04-21T20:17:26.591-05:00high seasJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comBlogger511100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-1076130980494403182004-02-06T23:14:00.000-06:002004-02-07T00:12:07.983-06:00Its the new thing.Wouldn't it be wonderful if everything were meaningless. But everything is so meaningful, and most everything turns to shit. Rejoice.
~Bazan
I'm so happy I'm rid of your stupid comments. I don't want to know what you think. it doesn't matter, you're nothing just like me.
I think its time we stopped beating ourselves up and cut Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-889889352003-02-12T13:59:00.000-06:002003-02-12T13:59:42.053-06:00This was suppose to be a poem, but it turned out to be a lesson. A lesson on, well.....something. haha. Love is all you need. Love is what I gots, I gots all sorts of it too!
I don't know where you came from, just then. I don't know where you are right now. But, I'm very sure that I'm very lost, and I'd like to be with you now. Perhaps I could find my way if I were to be lost somewhere less Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-887624182003-02-08T11:58:00.001-06:002003-02-08T11:58:59.450-06:00They called me both?!? Neato!Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-887624092003-02-08T11:58:00.000-06:002003-02-08T11:58:37.996-06:00
Buzz buzz, I am Coffee flavoured.
I am popular in the workplace, even though I am often bitter. I am energetic to the point of being frenetic; buzz buzz, out of my way. I tend to overwork myself and need periods of recovery time. What Flavour Are You?
Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-887623882003-02-08T11:57:00.000-06:002003-02-08T11:57:44.636-06:00
Cor blimey, I taste like Tea.
I am a subtle flavour, quiet and polite, gentle, almost ambient. My presence in crowds will often go unnoticed. Best not to spill me on your clothes though, I can leave a nasty stain. What Flavour Are You?
Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-867944822003-01-01T13:54:00.000-06:002003-02-04T00:02:46.000-06:00HAHA, no one else knows about this site. Thats the only reason I'd put that up here. But Jamie, you need to see that. I'm waiting for your call. I hope to talk to you soon.
Love,
JohnJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-867944052003-01-01T13:52:00.000-06:002003-01-01T13:52:03.706-06:00 What's Your Personality Type? brought to you by QuizillaJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-862620992002-12-19T02:48:00.000-06:002002-12-19T02:48:57.893-06:00Well, I haven't told you about the changes yet, but I will soon. I hope you like it, I'm gonna start doing something on here again.
I'll be going now though.
God bless,
JohnJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-837607902002-10-30T02:04:00.000-06:002002-12-19T02:45:44.000-06:00Maybe you should try.
Slipping away to the end, blinded by my own reflection. I wont be told where my head should rest, this is my bed, I’ll sleep in it if I please. And I awake as tired as the night, and as empty as my glass. The morning is as dark as my eyes, and I’ll cry away the moments I can see how alone I am. But you wont see, after all this time do you really think I’d ever know. After Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-835453112002-10-26T01:42:00.000-05:002002-10-26T01:48:21.000-05:00DO YOU HEAR?
What do you hear!
You claimed the Summer but danced during the rain. I loved and I lost, but it wasn’t you that I had in the first place. I’ve lost myself among the ashes, and in your tired hart. You pushed me down to stand upon my back, and look over the walls you wished you hadn’t made stand so tall. Grow up little girl, and stop sheilding your eyes from the light. In the end no Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-835418102002-10-25T23:55:00.000-05:002002-10-25T23:55:52.800-05:00I'm thinking about putting less poetry up. I'm not sure what else to put up though. I never do anything thats worth writing about. I just play guitar, then eat, then listen to music(I never stop listening to music), then go to school, then....uh.......I start over. Unless I have a show to go to, or some other place to be. I'm incredibly boring, I think.
I'm looking forword to Murder Fest more Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-835411322002-10-25T23:36:00.000-05:002002-10-25T23:36:11.510-05:00What? Where? When? How? Oh my goodness! I don't believe it! Mewithoutyou, they're kwazy(I have a link to their site, go to it!)! Woo!Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-834501922002-10-24T02:51:00.000-05:002002-10-24T02:51:12.803-05:00That last post doesn't make much sence if you don't know what I'm talking about. The end is quite odd, but if you would like to know, you could e-mail, and I could try to make sence of it. Or you know, on second thought.........forget about it. Try to figure it out on your own, then e-mail me what you think it means. Haha, "we're gonna play a game kids!". Oh! sorry........I have to go, bye.Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-834499942002-10-24T02:43:00.000-05:002002-10-24T02:43:26.340-05:00Shaking(pretty words)
I should have known by the way you closed your eyes, and how your hands were shaking. My words were "so pretty", you said. While they flew miles above your head. Darling you wouldn't stand here with me. I can't wait for you to see what I have seen. Dear, I can't waste my hart on you. You saw this in my eyes didn't you? I should have known by the way you closed your eyes, Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-834495672002-10-24T02:24:00.000-05:002002-10-24T02:24:52.866-05:00The Created
Another day is drawn, and I'm just waking. I wish this moment would last for more then just a moment, but what is anything, except another moment. The rain is falling so merciefuly, its not pounding. It seems to fall from the sky to come and rest here. It seems more like a funeral, I think it would be if it weren't so beauleful. And you walk in, with a funeral on your eyes. And the Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-833451162002-10-22T05:30:00.000-05:002002-10-22T23:31:10.000-05:00It is far to late to still be up, I should be asleep like all my friends. What am I doing up so late? I'm so bored and tired, and I'm begining to feel ill. I'm going to sleep now, g'night.Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-833432622002-10-22T03:56:00.000-05:002002-10-22T19:14:36.000-05:00new template, is it good?Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-833429892002-10-22T03:44:00.000-05:002002-10-22T20:10:31.000-05:00To Play
And you try again, bullets made of sugar falling like tears from your sky. And here I am drawing the curtains closed, leaving you behind. The stale air filling the room as you walk through sickens me more. Oh, and your "so very sorry". Well thats good dear, but you can't haunt me anymore. I'll stay here, and forget about being over there. And you would never sit with me here; ghost. The Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-831073332002-10-17T02:46:00.000-05:002002-10-17T03:03:49.000-05:00My dear, I lost you again, and as I walk through this empty garden I slowly forget. Though you were never who you seemed. And I was never more like you. I have no place to set, you stole all my rest. And I gave in so quikly to your pretty voice. And I begged so, for mercy. In the end you kept walking away and now you can't turn without tripping. Tear up on these words I can't trust your tears Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-831070922002-10-17T02:34:00.000-05:002002-10-17T02:34:54.450-05:00Oh my Lord you wouldn’t leave me with this, Father lift me up to you. In this horrable place you are the oil in my light, and I rest in your arms great Morphious. And sleep amongst the angels in your heavenlies. At your feet and at your right hand, I find my peace. And in their eyes I find my passion, my passion. Father my passion after your own hart. Reveal your rhythem to me, so that I might Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-830716612002-10-16T12:44:00.000-05:002002-10-16T12:44:25.120-05:00Standing out on the pourch watching the rain fall, and the steam rise from my coffe. This feeling is tainted and fleeting. This peace is not lasting. And tonight, tonight we dance again. On into the night we dance contesting eachother as we try to stay together. This once graceful flow has become a chalk board and our pride became the nails. With every frusterated move the sound becomes louder, Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-830213522002-10-15T12:04:00.000-05:002002-10-15T12:04:51.996-05:00I can remember that day. In the garden were we would set and talk. I’ve been back there since, all our flowers are trampled. I can’t see the ground for the snow that has fallen. Our garden must die today. And I’ve lost your scent in the light cold winter air. I can’t feel your hand in mine, my hands are numb. All I can feel is the cold air and a guiding hand on my shoulder. What can you feel now Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-829762902002-10-14T14:16:00.000-05:002002-10-14T14:16:02.226-05:00Death. Your lies are so beautiful. I can't begin to imagine life without you, but it was my mind that chained me here in the first place. Your words flow like blood from my ears, I'm not listening anymore. And you stand there holding the keys to my fate today. But tomorrows mine, and you wont be there. I wont let you in again. When you come back I wont be here, and you'll be alone. You can cry ifJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-829128012002-10-13T01:48:00.000-05:002002-10-13T01:48:29.753-05:00You know whats weird. I didn't mean for that last post to sound so romantic. Its not suppose to be. Its about a group of friends, not a single person. I should have read it before I posted it. Oh well, now you know what I meant(haha). Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-828791952002-10-12T03:56:00.000-05:002002-10-12T03:56:34.603-05:00Can’t Complane
Tonight bueaty strikes up against my hart like a match. The flame slowly lights my candle, and in the flickering array all the scares become level. By the caring love in our eyes we light up the night. And as the day is beuatyful, over a thousend times is tonight. Even though our words are plain and fairly hartless. We mingle in eachothers harts. And act as if we didn’t know. As Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-828486022002-10-11T11:56:00.000-05:002002-10-11T11:59:15.000-05:00Here's Jamie's Blog , so you can go theere, and yell at here for the merciless torture of you ears. But other then that her blog is awesome, she knows what she is talking about(most of the time, hehe).Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-828296072002-10-11T01:11:00.000-05:002002-10-11T01:11:46.920-05:00These are a bunch of fairly bad ones. Jamie said you would like to read them anyway, so blame it all on her. They are all mostly thoughts I couldn't finish, or you know, just bad(haha). Good luck.
friend [enemy]
Inticapation. My hart is beating from my chest. Each pumping rythem will find its way to your ears. I’m falling apart, and you don’t know it. You only hear that warm pretty sound Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-827795672002-10-10T01:14:00.000-05:002002-10-10T01:14:58.010-05:00Left
And here I am again, not knowing what to say. I wish things really would fade to grey. Everything is slightly tilted left. And I stumble up the walls. To the lines we drew so long ago, never thinking I’d see them so red. Blood red, is what it seems. I’m so lost indeed, lost-for what once was became now and still, it all is lost within me. I’m on my knees crawling in the grey I prayed for. Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-826273442002-10-07T02:31:00.000-05:002002-10-07T02:32:19.000-05:00Am I Getting Worse?
All I ask is for a glimps of your eye, are you so ashamed? Surely not? You, the strong one. How fastly you have become nothing. And now you begg me to look away. And on this day, my how you have changed. You calace and then call yourself strong. Rather, I pitty your so called “strength”, how weak you must be inside, where your hidding all this pain. Its evedent dear, to see Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-825495842002-10-05T01:41:00.000-05:002002-10-05T02:16:27.000-05:00"No name, thanks to Jamie!"
By tonight you’ll all be gone, and I’ll be alone again. I would try to dream of you, but it never works. Its always her, she haunts me in my sleep. I long for the city, and that distance. Where you are, friend. And where you’ll always be. These people here wouldn’t even see me if it weren’t for her name. But now they see something, it is me, but through her broken Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-825234882002-10-04T12:19:00.000-05:002002-10-04T12:19:15.940-05:00Mewithoutyou! They are so awesome! I am amazed by his ability to write. He can convey the hardest emotions to understand. The way he puts the words to the music is bueatiful. When he painfully screams those words, you understand completely......yet your still confuesed. And then their stage show! Amazing as well, less like a performance then a fireman rushing into a blazing building. Good! Thats Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-825229512002-10-04T12:05:00.000-05:002002-10-04T12:05:26.910-05:00Ghost
"I'll lie down for the last time, and fall well away from her. And I insist I'll be deadly missed
(please, say never)
I'll pour down like water. In between the sky and doubt we talked about "forever", and all our other useless words.
Until I say, "in his silent sound is the peace I found", but she hides behind her eyelids. I feel the breath from her nose on my neck as it blows by, the Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-825058802002-10-04T01:58:00.000-05:002002-10-04T01:58:04.413-05:00You Danced
This pains me so, to see you go. It seems friendship is as shallow as what the wind blows. Is this all my fault? I’ve waited for so long, just to see you smile. And you did for a wile, but now you relent, as if I were judging you. Can’t you see this in my eyes? You say you’ve grown, surely I can see you grow, but I only see you grow colder, colder to me. These days your not the same. Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-824575862002-10-03T02:46:00.001-05:002002-10-03T02:46:58.786-05:00I don't do anything, thats why I always write weird like this. I never have an opinion I would want to voice. I never go anywhere, exept to shows, but everyone who reads this knows more about them then I do. So I'll just keep incrypting my mind in poetry, and sleep my useual 4-1/2 hours until I get my lisence. For when I get my lisence I will drive places and see people, it will be great. Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-824575772002-10-03T02:46:00.000-05:002002-10-03T02:46:33.550-05:00The Coldest Winter Of all
I would run from this day if I could find my footing. God bless Wednesday, I can't, it is dead in me. It reminds me of you, so bueatiful. The moment isn't so sad till I see your face and how cold you've become. Your eyes are the first winter freeze, the first snow on my feshly planted Tulip. You dig up this grave with your pounding voice and frustatingly lovely embrace.Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-824570712002-10-03T02:20:00.000-05:002002-10-03T02:20:08.223-05:00This Time
So come to your podeum, speak your glorious lie. Darling, if you could hear your words, you would cry. You speak such truth, if it warnt for the lie. You’ve become blind dear, blind to your own mind. You speak of being lost as if you werent-like your some saint and I’m just a lowly sinner. You toss your smile just to whatch me krenge. You left that trail of roses, leading to your end, Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-824068672002-10-02T02:53:00.000-05:002002-10-02T02:53:42.393-05:00Yeeeaaaahhhhh!Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-824068222002-10-02T02:51:00.000-05:002002-10-02T02:57:59.000-05:00Not On Sunday
Confiding in this council, the stupidity of men. I’ve lost my words. I’ve become speachless in udder horror of offending you. As I walk on egg shells beside you, you throw your whight like an angerd child. Thrashing here and there, spitting your words in a foolish rant. In full tilt you run up these walls. “Speaking your mind”, as these people die beside you. Your selfish words Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-823993002002-10-01T22:47:00.000-05:002002-10-01T22:47:57.673-05:00Remember, do you remember when it was like that. Full of caring love. Now look. An old coat hid away in the closet, and in its pocket-that which brought us life. You hid it away in shame. You dumbed me with your sweet inosent voice and all that you knew could. I was made a fool by you. Like so many others. I opened my hart like a child during Christmas. Shredding the wrapper and the pretty bow. Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-823154102002-09-30T10:09:00.000-05:002002-09-30T10:09:29.666-05:00I wrote a new song today, well early this morning at around 3:00am. Its hard to play guitar and sing when everyone else is sleeping. I think its gonna be a good one. Its called "The Mountain", I don't know why I'm putting this up here. I think I'm very tired, but I don't feel any different then I always do. I stay up so late so much, that I have grown I resistance to sleep. Well......am I hungry?Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821801172002-09-27T00:48:00.000-05:002002-09-27T00:48:31.033-05:00I always end up talking like an idiot when I do these things! So this one is gonna be different. I'm just gonna say....I am tired and I wrote a new song, we lerned it-it is good. Jamie knows what she is talking about, and I want to play a show out side of claremore sometime yo! Saturday is a good day, sleep is a good thing, though I never get any. Its my fault, I don't go to sleep when I should. Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821799072002-09-27T00:41:00.000-05:002002-09-27T00:41:46.243-05:00Well I've been thinking about where I'm headin'...you know? Trying to figure out where all my energy is going and where all that momentum is thrusting me. Its hard to know where I'm supposed to be. Because, I know so many people here, but I'm pretty sure this isn't the spot. I know so few over there, but that looks right. What am I to trust. Surely not what looks right, nor what feels wrong. Am Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821527632002-09-26T12:08:00.000-05:002002-09-26T12:08:05.953-05:00Of all the places in time. Its this one I choose to be poetic. Darn my hopeless romantic mind, and darn the Cinderelle Complex, for they all become dead, and wieh me down as I live. For a season as everything else, soon passing-a fleeting promise only breaks me for so long as its in the air. Maybe if I don't breath? Maybe if I scream? Maybe if I endure it all now in one moment, and move on? Am I Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821370702002-09-26T03:35:00.000-05:002002-09-27T00:37:35.000-05:00Oh! how you love the chase. A dazzling dance. Take a cigar, your win has become a loss. In all this haste, you've lost your way. Another fooled by the great. Simple words become more then what one can say. Confuision takes its toll-should I burn the bridge or set it in stone, place it on sand or send it to a friend? Take another by the hand, or wait for understanding. Never the less....I've made Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821364502002-09-26T03:04:00.000-05:002002-09-26T03:04:24.513-05:00THIS BOAT IS WORTH NOTHING!
A friend had told me so-I'm sure I can forget. Death moves swiftly when you give it the wings to fly. I'll shut up soon if you give me this time. But you couldn't even do that. Where have all the hours gone. All the time I spent with you. I miss your lies.
Such a touchy conviction-I'll rock you one way you'll curse me once, rock you another you'll curse me twice. WhenJohnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821355082002-09-26T02:18:00.000-05:002002-09-26T03:37:38.000-05:00 THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED
So far down thrusts my hart-further and further towards the ground. A cry for help or an angerd scream-blowing through my teeth. I wanted to say hello, but you weren't in mind. Why can't I break free from these things? Father help me! I've fallen again, this time I can't see where to begin again. And this mirror.....Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821100602002-09-25T15:20:00.000-05:002002-09-25T15:20:15.940-05:00 You can call
Wednesday! My hart used to calm on this day. Now I'm torn. To see you walk amungst them-who I can't even speak to. Those you laugh with, as I cry in the corner alone. Tonight has changed its tune, tonight will be the night a bit of me dies, in spite of the bit that grows. I'll find you again, but you wont Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-821090562002-09-25T14:55:00.000-05:002002-09-25T14:55:47.880-05:00HAHA! I have made things better between old freinds. I feel good. I'm hungry though. This girl is weird......when I had a girlfriend she acted all angry around me. She blocked me on AIM and stuff like that. We would get in fights all the time. She said it was because I talked about Rachel(girlfreind) too much. Anyways she has started to talk to me, now that my hart is broken. I don't know whats Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-820835542002-09-25T01:35:00.000-05:002002-09-25T01:35:03.066-05:00Oh man! We have a show saturday, and we may end up playing at like 12:00pm. I'm usually still asleep then.I want to play sometime during the night. And our bassist told me earlier today online that, "if this band isn't somewhere by the time I'm in college, I'm gone!". I didn't know what to say, I thought it was a bit rude. I mean I write all the music and try to direct it all, ya know. Then he Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-820822182002-09-25T00:50:00.000-05:002002-09-25T01:13:15.000-05:00Well......Am I crazy, I think something might have died in me. I try very hard to be nice to people and to never say anything someone can get angry with. But people can find a way to get angry at anything. I wish I was more calm, so I could handle it when people get mad but now its just like, "I've gotta get out here". I need to lern how to "defuse" I situation. Yes! I figrued out the meaning to Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809909.post-820818682002-09-25T00:40:00.000-05:002002-09-25T00:40:52.166-05:00The day, the night. By moonlite I set, it seems brighter then day...or perhaps its just the silence that makes everything seem so loud and bright. Maybe I shouldn't let my mind wonder like this. Never the less, I have, so Let It Be I guess. I looked down to see the amber color from the street lights fade into the silver light of the moon, and then fade back again as I looked farther down the Johnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17016860040321295722noreply@blogger.com