Jacob’s Blog

I never knew you were a writer
It makes me want to aspire higher
And sleep in ’till mornings end
To dream of the author’s pen.

Wondrous words never knew where
They floated along, without any care
Blind and mute, they were so naive,
Now the emotions, together they weave.

If I were to write a poem with one word,
some people would think the author absurd.
The word with friends might make a sentence,
Yet alone is the word, it doesn’t make sense.

So the wondrous words somehow found friends;
Even punctuation, they found at the ends.
They made apple pie and shared a good slice,
Because friends are found, when words are nice.

If I were to write a book titled something like, “Jacob’s Insights,” or “101 Nonsenses,” or “Less about the turbo confabulator encabulator and more about everything else,” what should I put in it?

My current idea is to make it a collection of various things that I’ve written, some of which from this blog, some of which from other sources. What would be the most interesting things that I could put in the book?

Of course, I don’t think anyone but myself would be interested in owning a copy. However, thanks to on-demand publishing, I can print only the number of books that are wanted.

Incidental glance without recognition,
Mistakes made now haunt me,
Because the possibilities turn beginningless,
And the clouds would rain if they only had tears.

Insufficient capacity to do more than nothing,
So many ideas moving omnidirectionally,
Lightning in the distance might almost bring hope,
If only it had the deep friendship of thunder rolling.

Yellow picnic table flowed sweetness like fountains,
Now more stale than dust in an empty canteen,
Just the reflections of a fruit lemonade,
No more will the sparkles be lost in the winds of tomorrow.

If I were to search from coast to coast
I’d find one thing I’d like better than toast
It’s quite amazing; though I don’t mean to boast
Your friendship to me is what matters the most.

Of all the Facebook features I like
the ones I use, I think their alright
You share quotes and notes Continue reading Quotes and notes…

Of all the tales from Spain to Japan,
I never knew of such a man
Who could be so deeply moved,
when a just a drop of love was proved.

One bit of appreciation from this man’s friends
Meant more to him than oceans with ends
Why love meant so much is curious
Regarding giving, this man was generous

He gave what he had, given so freely
Delivered with pleasure, better than Mr. McFeely
He tried to give, oh, so much more
But some strangers, on him slammed the door

The greatest return he expected, a smile
Anything more, and he would fly a mile
This man, he does love you
So be his friend, and return love true.

You wrote me a message,
I wrote you a song.
You asked for forgiveness,
I told you, you’re wrong.

You wanted a hero
I gave you a friend
You required perfection
Things came to an end

You lost ordinary words
Just to say hello
I lost control
And let the tears freely flow

You were far, far away
When I needed you most
Now I think I lost you
and days when we were close.

Wishing well, wishing well
cast me a spell
Release me from prison
and release me from hell

help me find beauty
help me rebel
wishing well send me
from this jail cell

someone is out there
someone who cares
help me to find her
and answer my prayers

I’ll donate a penny
I’ll donate a thought
wishing well grant me
the desires I sought

Some of us wonder
and some of us pray
grant us our wishes
while its still today

But while we sit wishing
the opportunities fly
so get off your fanny
and find your sweet pie.

But if I could just walk away
I wouldn’t know which words to say
but if you want I’ll try to stay
so tell me
whats the key

And if I love you, tell me will you
If I’m lonely destined, throw me a clue

Hold on to something, because here is another adventure of me typing whatever comes to mind.

How come no one is around to play tennis at 3:30am? The air is perfect right now, everything seems simple. All sound vibratiosn possibly could be focused on a green tennis ball bouncing against the ground and back up again.

I’ve been trying to find distance, and it has been hard. I remember, but I try not to think about it. Sometimes I feel like I need to turn back and embrace, but I focus on my determination to press forward. If I could only delete the passphrases from my mind, I’m sure I would have no problem with making time.

I have this pair of shorts which saw its end today. I had a small hole near one of the pockets, until I sat down in my chair tonight and heard a ripping sound. A little tug on my back pocket, and it pretty much ripped off completely. So now I’m able to feel a little more air now. The retirement of the shorts is a bit of a problem, because I liked them and haven’t been able to find a good replacement.

I wish I could say I was closing in on some goals, but the harder I try and grasp, the more star systems slip through my fingers. I dream a dream that will never come true. I think back to the good times when I used to embrase the ambitions. If the distance were just a little bit shorter, then maybe I could double the ideas that now seems too short.

The fence between us
separated east from west
Stood once strong like iron
headaches not cured by aspirin

One word of kindness
almost cured the blindness
The fence began to fall
weakened was the wall

But then jealous intents
East’s words made no sense
Made the fense need fixing
now it inhibits further mixing.

The pounding from within
Make me feel beat up
After realizing those things
which I’ve always thought to be true

Anger, rage, fear or doubt
None of which seem appropriate
Something inside uncertain, confused
What is the right response

Something so hard faught for
In victory was misery
can I only blame myself?
perhaps a willing victim

What is the great Kong
death by misunderstanding
regret or remorse
fight, flight, or tears

When eyes first awaken
only darkness their first sight
it is hard to see the light
it is too late to leave them shut

Life is no game of chess
unless possible moves
never a clear victory
always being told check

Forgiveness, perhaps
is the only way out
Am I holding it within
Frustrated I want to shout

I’m not the one to quote song lyrics in my blog. I might make a few exceptions tonight.

Tell me there’s some hope for me. I don’t know how to dismantle an atomic bomb. I mean, who do think I am? But maybe by some unwritten rule, everything will be alright? I’m so scared about the future, but I don’t think I want to talk to you about it.

I was so wanting to do something that has never been done, but now I must move along. I needed, but instead I got something for which I had no use. It is because of you. I’m no fool. Was it all pretend? I am afraid. How could you dare? Was I sabotaged?

I hear the songs, in the middle of the night, they speak my words, they fill my sight. In this nocturnal state.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the wisdom of blogging. Has it been good or bad? For me it has been good. I’ve been able to write a lot more, which has been relaxing and thought provoking. On the other hand, as more and more people read my blog, I feel like its only gotten me in trouble. Maybe I should be more direct in my writing so that people don’t have to guess (incorretly mostly) about what I am talking about. Or maybe I need to take up anonymous blogging so that people have no way of guessing that it was me that did the writing. I think, though, I will take up the third option, which will be to cease writing about the things that really matter to me.

The title of this entry is serendipity 2. It comes because I was reading through my blog, and read an entry called Serendipity, which is not only a cool word, but the title for a blog entry which never should have been made public.

As I re-evaluate over the next few months who I am, I think I’m going to end up deciding that I am someone who you will have to meet in person instead of through some writings on the internet.

Wish I was there to know you,
but you are so far away
reading the blog which is mine
ideas intertwined

Talking, laughing, on the couch
communicating personally, we’d be doing
intellectual presence
doesn’t it make sense?

Personally, I’d meet you
Face to face, not on the phone
Ordered letters on the screen
misinterpretation would break my dream

My reader you are not,
To meet you would please me a lot
You might be a nice girl
A friendship would be a pearl

I hope for the luck
for the non-online path
blogging friendship approaches none
your friendship is my fortune.

This poem is dedicated to my bottle of Martinelli’s Sparking Cider, who has been my trustworthy companion through this long morning. There is something about drinking straight from a cold glass bottle that makes you feel less troubled.