The Terrible Writings of Quentin Montejo
Serial experiments on a fallen archangel who only wanted to regain just one wing back
Free of the World. Rain worshipper. Hermit. Tormented mind. Caged spirit. Defiant and eternal enemy of Destiny and Fate. Poet. Scientist. Artist. Daydreamer. He who laughs. Slacker. Sleeper. Romancer of wings and clouds. Fiercely independent. He who is ponderous. Games and anime junkie. Four eyes. Caveman. Nature-lover. He who doesn't think that hard. Non-smoker. Music-junkie. Counter of blessings. Guitar-hugger. He who simply wants what everybody else would like to be in this world and the next -- to be happy.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
It's been so long since I made a poem. Only 10% of them are actually made with art in mind. This one I made out of romancing a personal demon -- which is the fear of oblivion. Sounds like my teen years but hey, it just came out my head.
This city is a wilderness of smoke
Where love is lost and light is choked
I've lost my mind once so clear
To mortal ghosts that feed on my fears
Who do I come to when I am lost?
In this open road where everybody walks
I wait for words born to be said
Shuffling feet greeted me instead
I trace the sun from behind the clouds
Its rays are nowhere to be found
Why has the world gone gray to my eyes?
When once I couldn't even hear its sighs
Little bird, flying sparrow
How do I hold this aching sorrow?
That I am left, as I wait for June
To carve the sky and look for the moon
The discontinued comic strip ... actually I never really get to start it properly
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