perspective part 2

i still marvel at the wonder of perspective. how the same event, the same words, the same things can mean different things to different people. to one person graffiti is art. to another its just plain vandalism.

someone told me recently that my muse blog was kind of creepy. i still dont see it that way. granted, i dont want to. it was intended to be a tribute to her affect on me in such a breif time. its true. she inspired many scribblings. and seeing as that is the general focus of this here blog, it ended up on the internet for people to call creepy. once again, perspective. to him it was creepy, to me it was inspiration.

i found the poem i wrote in high school and won an award for last weekend. i thought it sucked at the time. i still dont think its all the good, but it cuts right to the heart of this perspective thing thats been rattling around my skull that last few weeks. here it is:

Would It Really Be Strange?

Would it be strange if I could fly?
Or if George Washington was still alive?
Well, good sir, I have my doubts,
This subject I've done much thinking about

Through all my years I've heard the phrase,
'All is relative' is what they say.
Now if this statement is truth,
And these things extant in my youth,

It seems to me
These things would not be
Oh so strange as they appear
If they were here for all our years.

For if that phrase is applied,
You know it cant be denied,
That the real oddity would be
That they're not strange to you or me.

thats it. those four silly quatrains written for extra credit in an english class won me the city writing contest for high school. i honestly felt bad. i mean the general premise is good, but it kind of sucks. i was happy that when they sent it to the state i didint win anything.

i like to think that my writing has generally improved. i havent put all that much on here. its one of those things that you like doing, but once you have an audience its a bit daunting. again perspective: when its just for me, its easy, but with an audience its a whole different game.

its all perspective, man

A Dream Within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep - while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

-E A Poe

i was reading random things in my Poe anthology last night when i happened upon that poem. its a great one. and it highlights something that has haunted (not necessarily in a bad way) my thoughts for years. it seems that its all about perspective for me. the books, movies, songs and poems that i like best either highlight a foreign perspective to me or in some way highlight the way perspective plays into our beleifs.

i wrote a poem years ago for some silly school writing contest and won top honors in the city for what i thought was a rather poor piece of writing. ill see if i can find it. the theme of the contest was 'wouldnt it be strange' or something of that nature. and my poem basically described a series of strange things then ended in pointing out that none of it would be strange if that is what we were accustomed to. a computer to George Washington would be very odd. but to me and you its perfectly normal.

its all perspective, man.