Romeo And Juliet Twice
Awake fair lady, shone you so valiantly upon precedent light and upon yonder shadow didst you dwell such importuned presence. Awake fair lady, shed such misfortunate aphorisms as fate sheds tears affixed and dwells upon, not for the fair shadow of past glory but for the seeded lesions of past gory. Enlightened eyes, thou seest such bestowed hope, from hidden sin purged, fair as is revealed. From breeze to breeze of naïve antiquity, slackened honors do with their slackened ways. To credit the night, that with which moon’s haste, alike of each, in passing and patience, hast I found that one true word of praise, hope…
Today, in these last two hours, I sat, content and taken, watching the magnificence that for so long has been kept from me. For once what was a pure reverie, chaste furthermore in hope, faith remains with such a heartening tale. What hath inspired me so is the movie I watched hither last night, bid it be Romeo and Juliet. Last night it was the last endearing ceremony of my peaceful night, making it all the more amiable once viewed. Romeo and Juliet at first looked somewhat like an unexpected sight but once through the whole movie, it was hard to resist the doting attention to such a tale by William Shakespeare.
The movie was so great that it does place significance on the celibacy upheld until this day. Just before beginning this entry I watched Romeo and Juliet again, intrigued by the storyline that didn’t grasp my emotions but had me withdrawn from reality within those two hours of splendor. The movie is hard to describe but it did leave a lasting impression on me. Where it didn’t waver my emotions too greatly, I feel that the weight I had placed on it has dubbed it as an eminence.
As the hours weep their sultry dew with adherent anticipation of unleashed words, let me, anon with this newly phrased poem of old. The poem’s articles themselves are older than this whim to watch Romeo and Juliet and yet, with tonight’s undergoing, I have fine lines of verse to yield in relation to a weighty matter. This poem doesn’t reflect the certain aspect of images it obviously portrays but this penmanship has placed devoted lines for penetrative eyes to wander.
The last line is a figment of my mind, brought forth by the inauguration of the movie and my thoughts upon Jewell. Take the verse as you will but do remember that these are antecedent thoughts, mostly on the verge of a whim. Tonight, when I was putting together the lines of verse I didn’t have a clear mind and found it hard to create one line to join the poem together.
Lost Touch With Poetry
In these last two months I’ve lost the touch of poetry and find it extremely difficult to be able to sit down in my own quiet time and turn myself on to the great poetry I could muster. My mind just wasn’t into it and I was lost in the silent oblivion of my trance. Nevertheless, speak I now of another ember to a dying flame that I shall produce for the start of this month which I shall dub, ‘The month of sundry undertakings’…
How fine a beauty doth beautify sin,
And hold confesséd sin to mine actions,
Prithee warrant not thee arrest mine heart,
For it grows pale and thick from sightless love,
That with loves sightless shall thyself betray,
For lust is the love of thee and such death,
And if thou hate love thou shalt hate me more,
But fair, for I love thee, O’ lady Jewell,
What Is Left Of Jewell
Speaking in regards to Jewell, I shall with this new perception shed some light upon a dying subject. The truth of the matter is obscured by many contrasting differences, clashing personalities and confused conclusions. What I do know and hold as a vague truth in mind is that Jewell and I are alike of soul mates, where one day, we will meet again. Betrothed she was as betided she is and in spite of our forlorn compassion, I believe that in the future, we will meet again and the problems around us will just disappear.
Mentally, Jewell is more than enough that I need in a woman and physically she has as much forsythe to please me decorously. Aggrieved lives do live after disdain and I do grieve all the more for not having any real memories of Jewell, only what fantasies did create. There are no pictures of the two of us together and everything she gave to me was given back to her. The only memory I do cherish is the green nail-polish I did buy for her but I’m not sure that I even have that anymore.
The only memories that keeps me from depression when best I think of her is what I have created. The CD’s, the artistry and the poems I wrote and the songs and visions that feeds my reverie. There is not much else to say about this subject and as I have had another couple of pieces of fish to eat tonight, my eyes do grow tired. These lazy eyes, they do stir the culprits of much unanswered chronology, such shiftless impatience that bids these pages be short tonight.
Save, although it will be a short tale, the tale is well deserved of the new month. Therefore, I won’t shed the details of today’s events let alone the lagging chronology not yet consulted. Rather, as the time has drifted to 11:30 p.m., I shall let your imagination wander for a few short minutes until you read into what would be the future to my perceptions. Tomorrow all shall be revealed as well as some greater amounts of chronology given to the result of my heading for the City. Regardless, now I must rest these eyes, until then…
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
