Here's some posts from Derek's O'Discordia Myspace:
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
sleeping arrangments
So i go to bed drunk, reading a mindless sci-fi book, and i'm thinking
' i like sleeping on couches and on the ground and when i have the opportunity to sleep on a bed, i make it my bed and when i use a new bathroom its as if i have always known that particular toilet, that fall leaf wallpaper, that little dead cockroach in the corner and it must be because i was a middle child, that i am so adaptable, my heart and my body are my home, like a turtle really, and i am a tough one to kill, a survivor, adapting to the ever changing tides of life'
and then i sleep, drunk deep black welcomed slumber.
Monday, May 02, 2005
[ conversation
...and i got excited so says he,
"This isn't a book, it's real life."
and i says,
"I see little difference between books and life sir, I mean, what is life but an unwritten book? One is the documentation of yesterday while the other is the story yet-to-be-written today. A book is but a story,"
I wax poetic.
"and isn't life the greatest story ever told?"
and then I wax Prophetic.
"isn't life a great grand adventure, an epic tale written by the hand of God, acted out by us mortal thesbians?"
and so i conclude,
"Life is a book, the question is, which came first the story or the life?"
Flabbergasted is he. Ah, the adventures we live today will be the writings of tomorrow.
Friday, April 29, 2005
ciggarette and type
this has got to be the sunniest day in hell ever, wind and trees, city scape, smoking ciggarettes outside my window wondering about sensless acts of death and thievery, soon my lungs are inhaling heat and my fingertips aflame. the next ciggarette is mainly mint leave with only sprinkles of tobacco, hand rolled. so i sit and imagine falling four stories to help raise my nephew, to help him become the great man i never had the courage to become myself. four stories a fall, make an impact on the world, a book of leaves then done. the world impacting on you with inertia fueling the fire. delicate fingers working the type like a womans body, shaping your dreams in word form then off to explore new worlds, cigarrete after ciggarette, such a sunny day, worlds with cool breezes and green srping trees, alcohol and society bustling by and i find myself scared of it all. i would rather observe the rise and fall of man and love and steel trains from this sacred view.
Janet
i know what everyone else will say but the reason she's not here tonight, she's taken an early flight
you ask who will make my sack lunched, who will wake up Kaiden for the day?
who will give me my older brothers clothes when a dirty traveler has no hope?
who will raise the next prophet down the line when she's left before her time?
i don't care what they say, i'm convinced she's just gone on a holiday.
be it christmas eve, halloween, easter or mothersday, it's a holiday.
on that big cruise ship in the sky, sun tanning by Jesus' side.
while we writhe and cry she'll be alright, the bahamas in the sky, on holiday.
the youth in our blood sometimes runs dry,
leaves wither and fall marches by,
huskies play on east coast days,
colonial houses creak in september weeks,
brother explore haunted river side dwellings,
she kissed her son and waited for our arrival,
reaching back a film in black and white,
memories become our antiques,
to feed our starving bellies for the next week,
while she's gone on holiday,
i think it's safe to say she's playing shuffle board with angels today,
in the sky on holiday.
6:29 PM -
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raven wrote:
Thank You Derrecke, she loved you very much and we were so happy to have you last summer. She is in Gods hand, looking down upon me, and upon kaiden. Thank you Derrecke, you know I love you!
the end of our book
weeks later as i settled into the new apartment, laurie and i decided to take a break from eachother, a free man, my hands felt smooth and heavenly to get back to writing, deciding there was nothing like a good nights drunk, be it a downed bottle of robitussin, oxicotins, somas, pot, mushrooms, whatever, throw it all away and give me a bottle of hard liquor! so nights came and went, one spent with a beautiful girl atop mountains of naked steel, one spent reuniting with a pretty muslim girl from my past, she kissing me in grit night club, one final day spent chasing down a dog from work, that blessed canine running across freewat entrances and busy roads like Jesus on water and foolish me risking my own life to run after him, attempting a rescue, weacing in and out of traffic, hungry bumpers searching for my flesh, but i would save that dog yet and why not? i have long since discovered that i love dogs more that people anyways, i have given up my claim to humanity, i am now canine, lupis, dog even, goodbye human world.
and the whole time i have been dreaming of a climax to my book, a beautiful ending, like tom's where he runs off to Georgia to rescue his golden headed sister, i have had many little adventures, so many conclusions with little spurts of growth and character development, but now here i am, i guess i've done a little growing, i'm in an apartment, quite the commitment, got a stable job and life seems to be rounded up a bit. last night i spoke with a crying man, far older than me, weeping over lost life and past regrets, i was shocked and amazed that someone so old (only mid 30 really) could learn and grow so much, it gave me hope to see people living and growing all their lives, a constant train ride and wreckage of growth and learning. so what if i haven't reached that climatic point in my life where i have learned it all and everything will be Jesus footsteps form here on out! we are constantly learning more about ourselves and the world outside, contantly growing, knowledge upon knowledge, every night is the ending of an epic adventure and every dawn the beginning of a new one. so what about the ending of my book? screw it, it's based on me and my real life, books like this never really end, they'll go on as long as i am constantly growing and learning, page after page, day after detailed day as the world turns, until we all are gone.
6:13 PM -
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Friday, March 18, 2005
St Patricks prose...
gnarled trees on a cold rainy night
drooping in the dark like old mens frowns
world war 2 vets
So we spiked our pitcher with two shots of whiskey and a drunken st patricks day rolled on, say thankya. we had great conversations of life and love and working (my future forever black, no future in sight for me).
So pack your green wear, drink your whiskey beer, stumble around, deny your purpose in life, write with swollen hand literature and go out and have yourself a night 'cause we all have a purpose ion life, a responsibility but deny it all you can 'cause when you grow up, that's it, you're there and you can never go back.
4:45 PM -
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Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Heart skips a beat on black highway
Its about time that ole road is calling to me again, like a lost lover with a simple view, a kiss from her asphalt lips, hot and rejecting the afternoon sun in rippling waves, her body curving across this blighted land, leading my heart hither and thither, maps route her skin on pornographic pages that guide me through mountains and dales, insects and cars lining up to travel across her breast and me, backpack in hand, guitar well tuned, sunburned boy wanting to once again travel into her womb and find new birth upon her vast ways, open skies, endless horizons, my God the her song is reaching to me in the night calling me forward, a siren of hope and I cry in prison waiting to get going on my way back to my original love, the road.
9:56 PM -
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Monday, March 14, 2005
Little girls are unfair...
and are horrible liars
they've got a heart bursting with love
and are willing to fire it in any direction
they need an outlet not you
they need a warm body, doesn't matter who
and if you leave them who cares
they'll find another boyfriend anywhere
they'll forget your name within a month
trade in all your memories for their new love
loyalty is a myth
strangling from above
they never wanted you anyways
they just wanted something to love
9:37 PM -
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Thursday, March 10, 2005
Opiates and Music
numb me something good
echo it through my guitar
understand that i understood
music through blue ears
vocals burning bright
this summer we take it all the way
or we die die die die trying
this summer O Discordia will be touring and playing this country over
10:16 PM -
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Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Jonah spelled his name D-E-R-E-K
Jonah was a runner
a shrugger of responsiblity
A torn Prophet who didn't want to be
a savior of Assyria a puppet for the Lord
so he ran far off into the oceans
he ran from hebrew shores
turned and plotted
scoured and abused
rejected by the belly of a fish
his mission resumed
a reluctant messenger
a fleer of the truth
he spoke to a deaf city
even when he didnt want to
a liar
a sinner
an angel deep inside
Jonah chose to hide from God
you can't run from your destiny
but you can die trying.