Zabatious Blog.  Click here to skip side menu and go directly to the main body. fuck the

activist gig

what was it I was doing again?

Recently Read

Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket & Related Tales
Death Masks
Summer Knight
One Salt Sea
Grave Peril
Late Eclipses
All That Lives Must Die
An Artificial Night
Fool Moon
A Local Habitation


on the needles

in my head
stache addict

their lives
ninja journalist
red head press
colleen anne
the cunning james
inky knits
d'wan's brain
high vark
the capacious hold-all
abbie the cat
no impact man
starting from scratch

stitch 'n bitch army
the gogok
knitting knurse
gambling & whoring
can't sit still
miss knit
knits and pieces
magic knitter
sweet little domestic life
transference of addiction

currently stalking
amanda palmer
clarine harp
brenda dayne
franklin habit
stephanie pearl-mcphee
tim ralphs

ikea dreams
1 mandal bed
1 mandal wardrobe
1 ethel rund shower curtain

me like-y!
male contraceptives
another girl @ play
melanie mauer photography
le cadavre exquis
unamerican activities
christmas resistance
all about my vagina
voluntary human extinction movement

Honorary Kiwi

did I do that?
The AntiCraft
nz in 2003
life with nadja
wish list
Zabet Groznaya

btw, I power Blogger

and you are visitor #
Site Meter
since 02.01.01

design © 2002-2007 by
zabet.groznaya at gmail dot com

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

.: 5.28.2012 

Soon Will Come August

(Melody totally ganked from AFP. Edits made in Nov 2012 after the lyrics settled.)

Soon will come August
and the calendar will insist
that it's time to let it all go.
A cycle of pages,
sunsets and sun raises,
and I've lost a year in the flow.

Time's bearing down on me,
friends with sweet memory
and enemy to my lists and plans,
but I can't shake this sorrow.
Not today, not tomorrow and
not with these unprepared hands.

I miss you, I miss you,
I wish I could reach for you,
I wish I could just hold your hand.
I'm sorry for fighting.
I thought it was the right thing.
I didn't know what kind of man
you were.

I know you were trying
to live like we might be
friends at the end of all
and I think that we made it
or at least that we faked it
enough to fool both of our walled-
off hearts.

And I would give anything,
gladly stop living if
I thought it'd bring you back;
give up this breathing and
give up repeating the
mistakes that threw us off track.

But it doesn't work that way.
I know it, you don't have to say
that neither science nor magic can make
sense of the loss,
of feeling sea-tossed.
and we'd better give as good as we take.

I miss you, I miss you,
I wish you could hear me through
the ether, across empty space,
but my only solace comes
when I acknowledge that
some day, I'll take your place.

And soon will come August
and summer will insist
that I start to let it all go.
A book full of pages,
grief that comes in stages
and I've lost a year in the flow.

"and when the wizard gets to me,
i'm asking for a smaller heart"

Labels: , , , , , ,

thus proclaimeth the Zabet  2:22 PM  

New Wizard Rock Shirts!
by Zabet