~copeland

Christopher

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About Me Member General Fiction Writer copeland21/Male/Unknown

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Ferris Wheel

“Maybe in another life, I could find you there.” –The Offspring

A job in Boston at a software design company for Jason is all binary numbers and pie charts at winter Wednesday morning office meetings. He understands the routine so much he doesn’t even notice it. Tall, cramped buildings like the one Jason works in have these tiled white and flaky ceilings. Sometimes, these flakes, they fall into your lap, on your keyboard. Sometimes colleagues will flap them out of your hair. The veterans though, they never say or do anything about the flakes anymore.
But there was a

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Crying for BalloonsLetting Go
A little boy’s laughter grabs my attention
As he stands with his mom and dad outside my car window Proudly holding a balloon he got from inside the store And as his mom loads the groceries And cars race by There is nothing in the world to this little boy but his bright yellow balloon Floating magically against the vast blue sky And everything is absolutely okay But his small hand is inexperienced with balloons And when he accidentally lets go His mom and dad try to get him to stop crying They know crying for one balloon is absurd Because they forg Crying for Balloons
by ~copeland

Our Wedding Dayonly 2a.m. and hey look remind yourself you’re still alive and hurry don’t try to survive cause she’s going down tonight and she’s fading out so bright and she’s twenty million different colors of light so don’t go away just yet and look so it’s just one more line and one more piece to take that’s all we have left just one last chance to make everything okay let’s kiss like it’s our wedding day hold hands forever like we’ll always be okay we look today like we’re going to make it for at least one more year sometimes picture albums can stretch twenty thousand miles driving past motel signs on desert highways and champagne drive thru runaway mo Our Wedding Day
by ~copeland

Hold onJust wait. Hold on. Listen. Get this. I’m dreaming. Hold on. So here is me. Fumbling. For all that’s worth. I know you’ve heard all this cliché love before. Something secret
Held motionless Underneath all of this slow motion noise before Like if you would just stop You can feel neon and slow static silence communicating But I’m telling you so slowly and my head is spinning That if I could
I would be honest for once
And finger paint sundown Smearing pictures of God smiling Sleeping in the brightest blue Hold on
by ~copeland

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Rights Issues

Thu Feb 27, 2003, 2:19 AM

My ignorance of the rules of copyright issues is the main reason, as of yet, for my lack of posting.

I'm not certain how to take down a posting if I want it published elsewhere.

Having said that, I will leave you with a quote from a required essay in my African and Carribean Literature course at the University of Oklahoma, in which author Zora Hurston attempts to prove why the negro man is the most artistically advanced of any race.

"He does it (artistic mimicry) as the mocking-bird does it, for the love of it, and not because he wishes to be like the one imitated. I saw a group of small Negro boys imitating a cat defecating and the subsequent toilet of the cat. It was very realistic..."

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Devious Info

Current Residence: USA
Interests: Sleep and writing
Favourite movie: Fight Club
Favourite band or musician: The Starting Line
Favourite genre of music: Punk Rock
Favourite poet or writer: Amy Hempel

Website: http://www.theories.cjb.net
Email: mountainlightning@hotmail.com
AIM: p0nch2o
MSN: p0nch2o@msn.com

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Comments

~orlaquirke Jul 19, 2004, 2:33:29 PM

that's a nice (mildly amusing) quote to leave with. shame you've left for so long!

--
_____________________________________________________
since i can't read your mind,
tell me what you're thinking.

$spyed Apr 10, 2003, 2:20:19 AM

Have you ever had a dream, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?

What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire deviant life, that there's something wrong with the story. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.

You take the blue pill, the story ends. Your browser closes and you believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland. And, I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

I offer only the truth, nothing more.

Take: The Red Pill
Take: The Blue Pill

Fella