Name: Ianthe M. Belisle Dempsey
Age: 17
Favorite philosopher: Ralph Waldo Emerson
Age: 17
Favorite philosopher: Ralph Waldo Emerson
Been there
Time travel
And, yes!!
I say that time travel
Really does already exist
But not through the sciences
And through physics
But it exists within the power
Of our own minds
To illuminate our own memories
And now through some
Subliminal hypnotic state of mind
One can recede back
Into one's own previous life
Not to extract precise, minute details
But to re-inhabit vague transcendental experiences of pre-existential... optimism
A time before any ability to reason
Is actually set
A time before logic covers
All the dimensions of our thinking
And if we're lucky
We can even dissolve back
To a time of glorious, superhuman
Space and time
A time when all things seem possible
Time travel
And, yes!!
I say that time travel
Really does already exist
But not through the sciences
And through physics
But it exists within the power
Of our own minds
To illuminate our own memories
And now through some
Subliminal hypnotic state of mind
One can recede back
Into one's own previous life
Not to extract precise, minute details
But to re-inhabit vague transcendental experiences of pre-existential... optimism
A time before any ability to reason
Is actually set
A time before logic covers
All the dimensions of our thinking
And if we're lucky
We can even dissolve back
To a time of glorious, superhuman
Space and time
A time when all things seem possible
check these sweet tunes.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
hip hop
in a nation of increasing gentrification and homogenisation
we will not be homogenised
the revolution will not be televised
it will be written,
in the form of the rhymes that we're spittin
real hip hop can never be stopped
and after you read the lyrics we've dropped, it's a compliment to say we killed it
when really we willed it to live in spite of murderers hiding behind gucci bandanas
pushing aside a message of love and respect
for drinkin 40s, bangin' shorties, then they're in court he's not paying his child support
maybe if we break down "crimes" we can finally "c - rimes" as a vehicle for change
and maybe we can rearrange the priorities of a youth gone deranged
since being estranged from their first true love
when they turned on the radio and heard messages so pervasive and yet so un-Common
why is it that while hip hop boosts people up and rap beats people down
all that I've found is that the love in hip hop has been drowned out by a flocka clowns
who only love dem gun sounds
well it's about time for a crackdown on these impostors
and don't think that running for the boondocks will make you a free man, cause where I'm from
the wheels are starting to turn and I just KNOW the time will come
when you will have to face your robbery and your face will get all slobbery but I see right through it
you stole what was ours by our own accord and sold it back to us at a price we could barely afford
everybody at school has the exact same $25 Run-DMC t-shirts
I'm looking at our future and right now everything that I see hurts
I see a world where nothing we create belongs to us
where nobody even raises a fuss
about having our own souls and imaginations co-opted, regurgitated and looped over a drum machine beat
and it will be no easy feat
to stand on our own two feet
and march into the street
and refuse to repeat as something sweet what is clearly sour
it is the dawning of a new age where real hip hop will reclaim its power
with Public Enemy as the ally and DOOM as the salvation
returning to the glory of the Zulu Nation
close your eyes
listen
and be assured
the revolution will not be televised, it will be heard
in a nation of increasing gentrification and homogenisation
we will not be homogenised
the revolution will not be televised
it will be written,
in the form of the rhymes that we're spittin
real hip hop can never be stopped
and after you read the lyrics we've dropped, it's a compliment to say we killed it
when really we willed it to live in spite of murderers hiding behind gucci bandanas
pushing aside a message of love and respect
for drinkin 40s, bangin' shorties, then they're in court he's not paying his child support
maybe if we break down "crimes" we can finally "c - rimes" as a vehicle for change
and maybe we can rearrange the priorities of a youth gone deranged
since being estranged from their first true love
when they turned on the radio and heard messages so pervasive and yet so un-Common
why is it that while hip hop boosts people up and rap beats people down
all that I've found is that the love in hip hop has been drowned out by a flocka clowns
who only love dem gun sounds
well it's about time for a crackdown on these impostors
and don't think that running for the boondocks will make you a free man, cause where I'm from
the wheels are starting to turn and I just KNOW the time will come
when you will have to face your robbery and your face will get all slobbery but I see right through it
you stole what was ours by our own accord and sold it back to us at a price we could barely afford
everybody at school has the exact same $25 Run-DMC t-shirts
I'm looking at our future and right now everything that I see hurts
I see a world where nothing we create belongs to us
where nobody even raises a fuss
about having our own souls and imaginations co-opted, regurgitated and looped over a drum machine beat
and it will be no easy feat
to stand on our own two feet
and march into the street
and refuse to repeat as something sweet what is clearly sour
it is the dawning of a new age where real hip hop will reclaim its power
with Public Enemy as the ally and DOOM as the salvation
returning to the glory of the Zulu Nation
close your eyes
listen
and be assured
the revolution will not be televised, it will be heard
Labels: poem
Ianthe. posted at 9:25 PM
love poem
you've only got eyes for her and she's only got eyes for you
that subtle, flirty laugh like Cupid shot you through the heart
well, sorry darling
he shot you with a poison dart
she's got eyes for you, yeah, and the boy over your shoulder
the leaves have barely changed but my heart's already colder
she met a girl and fell in love right then
silly girl, I wish I could warn you right when you thought you'd be another happily ever after
before all of the smiles and the laughter
turned to tears when your greatest fears all started to unfold
not to say her fears had been untold, but she asked if they can listen,
they said they can
and now her love's in the arms of another man
and you hate that you want them to be miserable, and hate more that they're not
but be careful you don't get caught saying that thought aloud
because it's simply not allowed to be thrown in the throes of love
and admit that you can't just shut off affection with the flip of a switch
sorry if I sound like a bitch, but just 'cause she's with him
doesn't mean you'll stop wanting love to happen on a whim
even if it feels wrong
and you'll sing a different song around a friend, but in the end
it's the five-page text message that you never send that confesses what you really feel
a confession so deep you drop and kneel as though before a priest, at least,
as though before a mirror held up to your soul
and that, my love, will bring you to your knees faster than you can say please,
please let me just love and be loved in return like Moulin Rouge said
why have affairs of the heart got to mess with the head?
Cupid's arrow flies in a manner so stealthy
how can a racing heart and butterflies possibly be healthy? That's why they call it lovesick
but when love sticks it can be the greatest thing you'll ever know
or something you'll never want to show as you try to cope
but please, please, never give up hope
and if you ever feel like you've been looking too far
i'm right here, and i love you just the way you are
wouldn't it be nice to find love that's really true
you've only got eyes for her and she's only got eyes for you
that subtle, flirty laugh like Cupid shot you through the heart
well, sorry darling
he shot you with a poison dart
she's got eyes for you, yeah, and the boy over your shoulder
the leaves have barely changed but my heart's already colder
she met a girl and fell in love right then
silly girl, I wish I could warn you right when you thought you'd be another happily ever after
before all of the smiles and the laughter
turned to tears when your greatest fears all started to unfold
not to say her fears had been untold, but she asked if they can listen,
they said they can
and now her love's in the arms of another man
and you hate that you want them to be miserable, and hate more that they're not
but be careful you don't get caught saying that thought aloud
because it's simply not allowed to be thrown in the throes of love
and admit that you can't just shut off affection with the flip of a switch
sorry if I sound like a bitch, but just 'cause she's with him
doesn't mean you'll stop wanting love to happen on a whim
even if it feels wrong
and you'll sing a different song around a friend, but in the end
it's the five-page text message that you never send that confesses what you really feel
a confession so deep you drop and kneel as though before a priest, at least,
as though before a mirror held up to your soul
and that, my love, will bring you to your knees faster than you can say please,
please let me just love and be loved in return like Moulin Rouge said
why have affairs of the heart got to mess with the head?
Cupid's arrow flies in a manner so stealthy
how can a racing heart and butterflies possibly be healthy? That's why they call it lovesick
but when love sticks it can be the greatest thing you'll ever know
or something you'll never want to show as you try to cope
but please, please, never give up hope
and if you ever feel like you've been looking too far
i'm right here, and i love you just the way you are
Ianthe. posted at 9:23 PM
Monday, August 10, 2009
[dearest madam]
dearest madam,
i'm not sure if you've noticed
but you just swept me off my feet
i'd turn on the metronome
but right now not even my heart can keep the beat
there's something exhilirating
about the way you talk to me
how you've just opened up your heart
and laid it out for free
are you a figment of my imagination
am i a figment of yours?
who knew one conversation
could open so many doors
welcome to my puzzle,
i like the way you fit it
there's a fire in my soul
you've got the match that lit it
dearest madam,
i'm not sure if you've noticed
but you just swept me off my feet
you're the perfect stranger
and we just happened to meet.
Labels: poem
Ianthe. posted at 4:26 AM
Sunday, July 26, 2009
[an appeal to memory]
before sex and drugs,
when all we knew was rock and roll and even that wasn't quite the same
everything just seemed so....
tame
backstreet boys not backstreet dealers
since when are we old enough to trade in bikes for four-wheelers?
bubblegum bubblegum in a dish
how many pieces do you wish
one, two, this one's for you
three, four, not anymore
remember how often i wound up at your door?
my house to yours ain't such a walk
how come since that summer we never talk?
monkey on the ground, no such monkey
that ship has sailed, when that ship sunk we promised things would never change
but i'm feeling worn down like the black crayon out a fresh box
so this is me, without my label
without your classifications are you still stable?
we played with Polly Pockets, saved lockets, made rockets
now you're rolling smokes, telling jokes and I just can't help but mock it
it used to be junk food and movies for the simple joy
now it's ice cream and Pretty in Pink to get over a boy
in junior high we were crushing, in high school we got crushed
remember that guy in homeroom who always made you blush?
he's peddling premature maturity to the kids we used to be
waiting by the park when school gets out at three
Pokémon cards and Crazy Bones, summer days and Sno Cones
now all you care about is getting so blown
and leaving me so alone
remember when i used to have to call you on the house phone?
tying up the line for hours just shooting the breeze
brought our parents to their knees, didn't it?
just begging to know what it was we could talk about for so long
and we just shone in a language all our own
they just didn't get it, did they? and they'd just groan in their grown tone and we'd laugh
we'd laugh until we swore our lungs and livers were bruised
everything just kept us so amused
i wish you'd keep your lungs and livers unabused so we could laugh like that again
laugh at all the girls scrambling for men
why does every Barbie need a Ken?
when she has Skipper and Kelly and Stacie to get her back
you'll always have your girls when your guys are acting whack
when you stop getting calls about how he's in a funk
and now he only rings when he's bored and getting drunk, that punk
keep your weed cause all I need is Ashley Spinelli on my TV
and a recess maybe just to regress back to the good old days...
but this ain't VHS, we don't need to rewind
fast foward scene select to catch us up to time
if there's one good thing about growing up
it's learning how to rhyme
remember the good old days?
before sex and drugs,
when all we knew was rock and roll and even that wasn't quite the same
everything just seemed so....
tame
backstreet boys not backstreet dealers
since when are we old enough to trade in bikes for four-wheelers?
bubblegum bubblegum in a dish
how many pieces do you wish
one, two, this one's for you
three, four, not anymore
remember how often i wound up at your door?
my house to yours ain't such a walk
how come since that summer we never talk?
monkey on the ground, no such monkey
that ship has sailed, when that ship sunk we promised things would never change
but i'm feeling worn down like the black crayon out a fresh box
so this is me, without my label
without your classifications are you still stable?
we played with Polly Pockets, saved lockets, made rockets
now you're rolling smokes, telling jokes and I just can't help but mock it
it used to be junk food and movies for the simple joy
now it's ice cream and Pretty in Pink to get over a boy
in junior high we were crushing, in high school we got crushed
remember that guy in homeroom who always made you blush?
he's peddling premature maturity to the kids we used to be
waiting by the park when school gets out at three
Pokémon cards and Crazy Bones, summer days and Sno Cones
now all you care about is getting so blown
and leaving me so alone
remember when i used to have to call you on the house phone?
tying up the line for hours just shooting the breeze
brought our parents to their knees, didn't it?
just begging to know what it was we could talk about for so long
and we just shone in a language all our own
they just didn't get it, did they? and they'd just groan in their grown tone and we'd laugh
we'd laugh until we swore our lungs and livers were bruised
everything just kept us so amused
i wish you'd keep your lungs and livers unabused so we could laugh like that again
laugh at all the girls scrambling for men
why does every Barbie need a Ken?
when she has Skipper and Kelly and Stacie to get her back
you'll always have your girls when your guys are acting whack
when you stop getting calls about how he's in a funk
and now he only rings when he's bored and getting drunk, that punk
keep your weed cause all I need is Ashley Spinelli on my TV
and a recess maybe just to regress back to the good old days...
but this ain't VHS, we don't need to rewind
fast foward scene select to catch us up to time
if there's one good thing about growing up
it's learning how to rhyme
Labels: childhood, poem, straightedge
Ianthe. posted at 2:14 PM