Originally written: probably sometime in the seventh grade. Edited much since then. So You Don‘t Believe in Dragons? So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, I‘m here to say you‘re wrong— I‘ve seen them roaming in their packs, A hundred thousand strong! So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, I must admit I‘m miffed— Haven‘t you ever seen them? Shiny scales, so carefully spiffed! So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, you‘re life must be a bore— To never look up at the sky And see flames burst as they soar! So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, you haven‘t heard the tales of old— Of how they barbecued brave knights, Hoarded silver, bronze and gold! So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, that‘s an ironic thing to do— Considering the funny fact, They don‘t believe in disbelievers such as you! So, you don‘t believe in dragons? Well, if you think you‘re right— Then you shouldn‘t look behind you, While that dragon is in sight! Written: Probably sometime in seventh or eighth (Most likely 7th) grade This version as of: 5-3-04 I Hear My Angel‘s Trumpet I hear my Angel‘s trumpet I feel peace draw near Do not cry, once I am gone, My Savior‘s voice I hear! There is no need for weeping For I have but gone to sleep Do not be sad for me, dear one, Where I‘m going, no one weeps. I hear my Angel‘s trumpet Hear it clear and loud Hear it ringing from on high Way up, by that cloud; Contentment now, no less My only word For where I‘m being taken now Sadness isn‘t heard. I hear my Angel‘s trumpet Calling me to fly up there Hold my hand now, dear friend, But for me don‘t be scared… For in the heights of glory High atop that mountain summit Is Heaven, where I‘m going now That I hear my Angel‘s trumpet. Written: 7-28-02, This version: 5-3-04 Untitled Frustration, Untold Pain Is there no way for me to say What is inside of me today? If I thought I could help you by lying I‘d know I wasn‘t really trying To come up with a solution To the endless pollution That has stopped my brain And run my thoughts against the grain I cannot name the frustration Can make no gesticulation And as it builds, the untold pain Building pressure, on my brain I can‘t understand what‘s so tight Why to my eyes it‘s endless night If God can‘t help me through this time I know for sure I‘ll lose this rhyme— All the rest, if I cannot think—more than that— Oh, God… grant me a new thinking cap. Written: 2-23-04 Typed: 5-3-04 Invisible Tears Can‘t you see my crying? See the tears run down my face Can‘t you hear me lying Truth gone without a trace? I smile and I laugh Can‘t you see me cry? Why can‘t you understand What‘s hidden by my sigh? I drop so many hints and tips Yet you remain so blind It‘s all or nothing, no in-between Can‘t you see I‘m trying to be kind? It would kill me to be half there And yet again, half not I wish you‘d see my invisible tears… On the other hand, maybe not. Written: 2-24-04 This Version: 5-3-04 Stuck in Time If I could tell you what I think You‘d prob‘ly laugh at me But that‘s okay, I know I‘m right You don‘t have to see It just seems like that every time I start to find someone Someone else takes him away Like I‘m too dumb to know what‘s going on... And there‘s nothing I can do And there‘s nothing I can say Can‘t take you back, can‘t let you go I‘m stuck in time today. Written: probably the summer before seventh grade, This Version: 5-3-04 ―I Wonder What This Button Does?‖ The last that I can remember If pointing at Dad‘s weird machine And wondering if the red button Would do something really obscene. I wondered what that button does And now I‘m afraid that I know Our world seems to be strangely crazy I admit, it‘s my fault, this is so. The rooster, he caws at midnight, The crow, he cock-a-doodles at dawn; The people lie out on the blue grass While on them sit the chairs for the lawn! Fiddlers fiddle the green-grass, The pigs run the Kentucky Derb-y! The boats float atop on the wet land While the cars race about on dry sea… I know that as long as I live One mistake I will never make twice I will never just punch a red button To see if what it does might be nice ‗I wonder what that button does?‘ Words I‘ll hate forever more! They‘ve brought me naught but terror And confusion galore! For the sun is in the west, But it‘s seven a.m. And I have the funny feeling It‘ll set in the east again! My words are getting straightened out, My world is going sane! Can anybody start this mess, So opposites will reign? If no one hears my desperate plea I know I will go –… My life isn‘t opposites, It‘s just gone so strange! At midnight everybody Seems to be eating lunch At noon day we‘re all fast-asleep, I complain that I missed brunch… The sun is pink with polka dots The sky—well its not blue; I will never ever wonder What another button does, it‘s true! But look! There‘s a pretty pink one, It says ―to start press the button begin…‖ Oh no, oh great, I pushed it in, Here we go again….! Written: before seventh grade, probably the summer before Typed: 5-3-04 Susie Lou Susie Lou, Susie Lou, They say she has… an attitude! Poor Susie Lou! No one likes her… She punches and kicks, Hisses and spits! Poor Susie Lou, Susie Lou No wonder no one likes her! Susie Lou, she has… An attitude! Written: summer before seventh grade Typed: 5-3-04 Mismatched Outfit Whenever people look at me I see them laugh and shake their heads Sometimes it kind of makes me wonder If I woke up on the wrong side of the bed They say my gloves were meant for feet They say my hat is just obscene They say my pants don‘t look like pants And then they ask me just to leave. They say they‘re sorry for my sweater, If you can imagine that; They say the arms are way to long (I wonder if it‘s my long lost goofy hat?) Whenever people look at me They kindly turn away I simply can‘t imagine why— Is it because my shoes and blue and suede? Written in 7th grade, typed 10-10-04 I Act I act to keep my world in line To keep from breaking down to cry When it all becomes too much to bear And when no one seems to care It‘s a way to lose my fears When everything looks really drear I act just as a general rule To keep from breaking every rule When anger courses through my veins And when my stores of patience wane I act when I want none to see How awful the world can look to me I act to hide my true emotions For it changes me, like drinking a potion, Suddenly I‘m looking on As my body takes over until the dawn Sometimes I fake it, yes, it‘s true And though it helps me when I‘m blue Sometimes I don‘t know how to be For that‘s what acting‘s done to me When I act to hide my pure frustration Anger and my desperation The person I might really be Sometimes I simply cannot see So this warning I give you Thought acting ―fine‖ helps when you‘re blue Don‘t be someone you might regret Don‘t this warning soon forget Although it hurts, always remember The side you‘ve hidden, that‘s surrendered Take it from someone who knows After a while the acting shows Be careful how you handle this For your true self you don‘t want to miss Though I still act to hide the real me For ―me‖ I don‘t want the world to see For with myself I‘ve made this pact: The two-word pact, which is ―I act.‖ Written 3-3-03, typed 10-10-04 The Clown Who Cried Or, ‗Death of the Spirit by Suffocation‘ She made the children laugh each day Always something good she‘d say, Or a smile ready for a friend— The laughter never seemed to end. She could act out mad or sad But everyone knew that she had Deserved the title Circus Clown For she laughed all through the town A happy, vibrant Clown was she A laughing trickster the world could see At sadness Clown would laugh and scoff But at home her make up came off. Her tears ran through it as she cried For her heart within her once again died— Tired of the endless cheer, Make-believing her world wasn‘t drear. Yet at the circus of the school She would do what was deemed cool To be honestly happy she truly tried… But still she was The Clown Who Cried. Written and typed 10-10-04 Cloud Dream Let‘s start with an image Could castle, in the air… But careful, not to breathe to hard Or *poof* it won‘t be there. Watch the cloud door open In that turret on the sky… See who‘s waiting for me there, With his arms open wide. Look, you see me running Jumping cloud to cloud… A rainbow bridge bears me up, But it‘s a long way down. I finally reach the moat of rain Swing across upon a star… I see his smile, ever nearer, Drawing me in from afar. I reach the steps I‘m weary from the trip… He beckons, he holds out his hand— And that is when I slip. Let‘s end with an image Cloud dream turned to nightmare… Forgot myself and wished too hard, Now *poof* it isn‘t there. Written: Eighth Grade Typed: 10-31-03 (Could do with some revision, I suppose) My Heart My heart knows nothing of rhyme or reason It only wants its turn to thrive in season But you have cut that season short Frostbite kills all my retorts What can I say, what can I do When what I had was what I lost—and that was you? I knew we couldn‘t last forever I knew we couldn‘t stay together Our worlds collided, but are light years apart But when you went from me, did you have to take my heart? My heart knows its blunder I'm gone, from you been sundered But this I‘m doing with my brain My heart, it only knows its pain I hate having to say adieu— But there's nothing else that I can do They say if you love him, let him go You‘ve got one chance before I cry ‗no!‘ My heart is heavy and weighted with dread I hate this feeling, I‘d rather be dead Right now I‘m not letting my world fall apart But when you go, try to go easy—on my heart. Moon and God The moon Is a teardrop Of God It is A symbol of God‘s true Everlasting Caring Truly great love The moon It is The pupil of God‘s eye With this eye He Sees us Teardrop or moon It is A symbol of All the Perfectness that The one Universe can hold in. This is the moon. Loneliness Lonely When the star-freckled face Of the sky and the night Embrace And blanket the light put out the lamp Tell us, sleep Lonely Foretold in the wolf‘s howl In the lion‘s growl In the shudder of the breeze In a child‘s sneeze In the spaces between stars In the glare of headlights on cars Lonely. Catches up with the world Isolates it from all Of the numbers So none answer the call Of those who cry in the night Cry out in fright Against the sadness In the darkness Lonely. Secret of Ages When the moon from sky seems torn And when no bird-song warms the morn And when the stars rain down like tears And when the world seems choked by fears That is when people must know Through darkness, first, a soul must go Until such time as the world may end Nothing‘s sweeter than a friend But when a friend becomes not so Learn to laugh, enjoy the show For when good is found in bad The one who finds it won‘t be sad For when light is found in dark The truth has never been so stark Because the justice of the love Of God is sweeter than a dove To find this love in unlikely places Is the secret of the ages From burning ash raise up new life And surely one can end all strife Light in Darkness Trembling grasses Beneath sword-slashed sky Foaming mountains Crashing to water as waves Hair, billowing out Like a shivering sail A girl clings to light The last sun‘s ray A hope that shimmers Midst turmoil UNTITLED #1 written 2-8-05, typed 2-28-05 There‘s a hole in my soul There‘s a rent in the sky There‘s a rip in the ground There‘s water in your eye And the wild wins howl Their lonely tunes As they go on their lonely ways And the sun is fire on the moons Every star in the sky Is a pinprick in my heart Every musical note Is the end of a start And the wild winds howl Their angry tunes As they go on their angry ways And the sun is fire on the moons There‘s a blue sea rising And it‘s not so surprising The raindrops are glass Reflecting the echoes of a song gone past And the wild winds howl Their defiant tunes As they go on their defiant ways And the sun is fire on the moons And the sun is fire on the moons UNTITLED #2 written 2-8-05, typed 2-28-05 A tear, a tear A raindrop, a shard A glass, a glass Broken, falls hard A drop, a drop A pooling, so red Reflection, shines, A rainbow thread A smile, a smile A shine, up there The sky, inside-out The truth, bare Falling, falling, An apple, a pair A rip, an abrasion And small, a tear The wind, the wind So blue, it blew, Away down far From me to you The Beginning This is a journey Through many lives, So be careful if you Have a prying eye. These secrets are not Always mine to tell I just write them down Which is just as well… So as you journey, Through the night, At the end of the tunnel— Seek the light When the World Was New Another age Another time Another sweetly Scented rhyme Filled the air In days of old Before the fire Of spirit grew cold Where went the brave? Where fled the truth? Where is the greatness That colored our youth? Up ahead in the dim Unknown, unexplored Mindless hunger awaits That we used to deplore But now what? With nothing good ahead Should we revive Ancient heroes instead? And then, as in The days of old We will ride forth Those who are bold Those who have valor Those who are true Like the giants that were When the world was new. THE LIGHT Have you ever noticed How on a cold, rainy morning, Sometimes a lonely sunbeam Breaks through the dark, shining? It becomes a beacon, If only for a fragment of time It leaves a perfect imprint; New pattern in an old rhyme. And even if it never sunned again— As we all sat late into the night, Keeping watch over grim existence— We‘d still remember the has-been light. THIS IS WHY The hypnotizing empty page The pen half full of ink A brain of teeming masterpieces If only I could think But the nature of my art Is twisted, slightly strange For the only things to write about Are those without a proper name. Try to catch the primal scream Universe‘s infant cry To reach a distant star Bring it down into the sky Then you‘ll maybe understand The depth of pain hidden inside Of a beast so terrible All the worse because of lies That infest the world around Must somehow bleed the poison out Or feed the beast to stifle snarls And then forget to write about All the things that must not be shared Even just to empty air So much for seeing, wishing—who was there? Purify, and then it‘s fair. THE IMPOSSIBLE Tiny specs of dust upon A rose-red wooden chair Look closely, now, quickly too Before it‘s mixed with empty air Magnify, bend over near And then you‘ll see as I see That every atom, every mote Is a person, culture, world alone A doorway, in our own afloat Peer beneath the shadows now Step behind a beam of light Search for more than first appears Lift the veil of all the night Uncover what you‘ve never known Lift up the roof of all the sky Expose fraudulent ‗impossible‘ As all it is—a lie. THE ENEMY We expect insanity To come from far away At night, apart Not in broad of day We expect enemies From obvious places For obvious reasons To have obvious faces But the truth Is that the night Is a block Against our sight Because here it comes In broad daylight A contradiction— By what right?— And yet the enemy Is already here A surprise attack Whispers in the ear From the daughter Of the voice The enemy‘s within us all… We have no choice. ALL IN MY MIND When the stars burn black In a boiling sky When the sun is put out And there‘s no more ‗I‘ When the rolling hills Buckle under the strain When the mountains collapse As you call out a name Air turned to sulfur Water to mud Trees crack on the trunk Music to blood And under and over A chant goes on Maybe a laugh Maybe a song It excites and it curdles The universe is dust An alien longing, A lust—for what?— No one can hear it Or me, how I yell, Trapped in the pit Of unspeakable hell It‘s the end of the world The end of my time Everybody lives on Is it all in my mind? THE END OF THE ROSE A glass rose figurine In a paper case Petals of gold In a shroud of lace When the sun shines down It glitters like fire But when the night comes It‘s proven a liar Fire changes To milky white Silver luminescence Bottled up night But with the first ray Of artificial light It‘s deadened, disgraced In pain—no respite At the first deep gong Of an ages old bell The rose shatters and breaks— Comes the cry, ―All is well.‖ TIME The clock struck nine And the cloud, a chord The mirror, it cracked And the gods were bored The dice did roll And the spots did spin But the beginning was lost In the whining wind The clock struck ten And the cloud, a chord The mouse, it squeaked And the gods were bored Up out of the dust And the rain and mud There comes a man So end the good! The clock struck eleven And the cloud, a chord The flower, withered And the gods were bored The clock struck twelve And the world did roast The man laughed dead And gave up the ghost The clock struck one And the cloud, a chord The hunger passed And the gods stayed bored. THE PAPER HEART Look at this heart, right here, Bright red and perfect, Pumping in tune with life So tiny, no defect. I could almost reach out— Could almost brush— The surface: with my finger… A gentle touch. But no! See! It crumbles, a crease Right down the center Sickening, but sweet, sweet release Can I fix it? Where to start… Doctors! Nurses! Band aids! Tape—to mend this paper heart. RORSCHACH INKBLOT Inkblot Tiny stain on paper‘s edge Twisting shapes of red Not soaked in yet Like a miniature Of something-or-other Ideas, half-formed Brushed away, no bother And then slowly The life drains out Rapid changes begin To harden, a permanent pout Days later The sheet is found But no longer clean It‘s thrown out, down But the silent echo Of the furious cry Of a life not-quite-―real‖ Rings into the sky Inkblot, frozen, rusty-blood colored Others see it and are bored But what‘s in it is the memory Of a life ignored. SPLIT Darkness falls The stars are dead A lie is told Blood runs red Fangs of nightfall Sink deep into earth For all the world‘s insanity What is it worth? Sweet intoxication Imitation-champagne air Look quickly! Peripheral vision Never mind, it‘s not there Mirage of expectations Love of secrecy Is it truly to die for? Hate of all that‘s seen So much for regeneration Give up on all you need Fight or die, the laws of the night And all that‘s left, a simple creed: ―Hang on, hold on, don‘t let go Despite what they may say— Half-mirror world of sin and dark Ends with the sun‘s first ray.‖ But what of those who‘s soul is cut And what of those of whom they say, ―Cursed one whose soul is split, Half to night and half to day‖? STAND YOUR GROUND If in this land there be anything fair In the name of all splendor and good I cry to you rise, get up and march on And follow the path that you all know you should In the name of the brave and the true and the bold For everything pure that we all hold dear I beg of you stand, stand up, stand your ground For the loved ones of all, far and near In the name of the wise and all we hold close In the memory of good needlessly wronged For the sake of the future and memory of past And all present comforts that after we‘ve longed If anything in you responds to my plea If any of you would dare listen to me The dark of the night could be all swept away Till we‘re left with the peace and the beauty of day We must fight, my brethren! Rise from your rest Prove yourselves worthy of your ancestry best Boast not of your hunger, your pain and your woe Get up and you‘ll see the true face of your foe Too long have we slumbered! Too long have we feared! But now does the day of our triumph draw near! In the name of all goodness, for Truth and for Light Together stand tall, and throw off the yoke of the night! FOR THE ROAD IS LONG AND HARD Smoke and mirrors make danger Where truly was naught but air The silver mantle of moonlight, though, Could make even the foulest smell fair Take care! Take care! Be wary and on your guard! Watch your feet but never look down, For the road is long and hard. Many are signs false and true But worse are the road signs gone bad Never put faith in your dreams, my friend Or else you and yours have been had Take care! Take care! Be wary and on your guard! Watch your feet but never look down, For the road is long and hard. Where rocks ought to be many And are few instead Tread carefully over the potholes They might be filled with quicksand Take care! Take care! Be wary and on your guard! Watch your feet but never look down, For the road is long and hard. But always make sure of your vision Don‘t lose a drop of its light It will guide you and keep you And lead you through alright. Take care! Take care! Be wary and on your guard! Watch your feet but never look down, For the road is long and hard For the road is long and hard HOPE IN DISGUISE In mystery a shadow lies Reflection of a half-hoped dream Not quite realized, not wholly there This shadow‘s thicker than it seems What moves under cover of blackness? Who hides in the mist and the cloud? Some evil, a wolf in sheep‘s clothing Or goodness too fearful of making a sound? Beware! Good watchers, all allies, I say, over there, watch your step! The light in your eyes may be deceive you Better if you had not wept. Nor laugh too loud, in the darkness Mirth as with sadness is doom But be watchful and always be careful For everywhere the danger does loom. And yet through the night shines a token Through the thickest of clouds come the smile Of a rainbow‘s fair face and a star‘s eye-twinkle, See! There was hope in the land all the while. Despair not when the rain falls thick on the ground Turn not aside form misfortune and pain Where there is shadow, light is also It‘s the light that lets you see the rain. R.I.P. When days have darkened And night has fallen And all that‘s left Is a dusty coffin, Then carve in the stone Or write in the pulp: ‗She was the mime that wouldn‘t shut up.‘ UNTITLED #3 It rained and was cold on the road that day But a man cared not and walked on his way The ditch and the gutter didn‘t look too nice And all the dead things were covered in lice But the man held his nose and just walked on Ignoring cries and the light of the dawn The road it was hard and the way was rough But the men kept pushing and he was tough He held a different dream in his mind‘s eye He looked for it at the top of the sky And he‘ll never know if it does exist But he keeps looking and shaking his fist It rained and was cold on the road that day But a man cared not and walked on his way. UNTITLED #4 Open, close. Blink, blink So simple So fast Dark eyelashes fluttering Why? Is it so hard to keep Them open, fluttering, In time To the slowing, Slow, Quick rush of air BREATHE But something blurs The eye and sticks The eyelash to the other And something tight keeps The air Out Out A sob? A tear? Closing, shutting, down— --rest— Silence… And cold, Cold, Dark. …unacknowledged rest… At last. But an internal time— Keeper— Ticks— On… THE DREAM THIEF I am so small Staring up— Up there How presumptuous I do not own the stars Is that what Innocence is, then? Naïve presumptuous- ness Perhaps I am Truly The worse off I‘m not like that That way I‘m worse I steal other people‘s dreams They keep theirs But I join in, An imposter. Why am I always Not inspiring But for a Short time Inspired? It is part of the soul But I don‘t know How to incubate And survive it Throughout all the Sterile cold. UNTITLED #5 Hope is a seed The smallest, as you see But it can grow Into the tallest tree With green, leafy branches And sunlight filtering through Warm, comforting, to make you believe All your dreams will come true Don‘t keep it locked up In a box on a shelf Unable to see daylight There, it can‘t help But blow it out From the palm of your hand Like a dandelion Like grains of sand Pandora‘s problem Was not that she disobeyed the gods— Curiosity is natural, they know, But she closed the box With all the hopeless problems We haven‘t a prayer of fixing Let the hope go—give it wings It‘s not like it‘s selling Tied up in a box Infamous for the bad A convenient scapegoat, is it not? But perhaps the blame is mislaid Perhaps those that hid it In the dark to begin with Are the real culprits. UNTITLED #6 A rustle of pages Fills the dusty air A cough, quickly hushed You just had to be there Be there to see the shelves Tall, narrow cliffs Jealously guarding the truth of ages Trembling with the rifts Between them and the stories And opinions the hold Guardians of the past and future The never-weres, hiding the cold And the might-be‘s Sunning in the light A perfect bubble-stop of time A room of books at night. UNTILTED #7 They say the stars are beautiful And sure, it‘s obvious To the dreamers and the poets and the astronauts‘ But they don‘t to me, unless— Yes, it‘s the spaces inbetween that count, Because once you‘re there Where you arrive, at the star It‘s routine, even with just the bare— Facts and ―new exciting‖ undiscoverables, But the journey to and from In the dark where light is myth Makes where you‘re going and whence you‘ve come— Unimportant, for it‘s the being that matters Pure energy, a soul in free-fall But I doubt I truly understand It‘s perfect, and so best left alone—that‘s all. UNTITLED #8 Don‘t you love a good collage? The well-done ones, of course A theme, even of randomness Makes them to bois- terous, and yet silent Although some are sad They draw in the eye And somehow, it‘s rarely bad They can represent so many things All symbolic and hodge-podge Though sometimes hard to make sense of, Don‘t you love a good collage? UNTITLED #9 A heart in an outstretched hand A gift, and offering? To pull it back—or a test? Are others‘ hearts softening? A sign from beyond? Or an image of such worth That the wings of angels Left it imprinted on the Earth? Perhaps it originated Form the depths of a humanity And unless you know its story It‘s not worth anything. UNTITLED #10 A damning blaze A fiery rain Streaking down Pain, blame Burn the forests Rack the night Search for a hiding place From the dawn‘s light The darkness swells Metaphysical wave Too many innocents To save, save And the smoke above Roils and rolls And thunder cracks The high scaffold Then all at once The veil does lift Eyes open up Dream over, that‘s it UNTITLED #11 Imagery Flashing through my mind‘s eye Language Flowery and crude, reflects the sky Beat It‘s all in the timing and night‘s heat Rhythm A pulsing heart where opposites meet Time Never enough and always too much Belief It‘s at the core and center of stuff All Contains everything and nothing Poem The sum of All, and still an extra something UNTITLED #12 ―Let me help‖— A mantra, a curse Trying to keep Away from the hearse Do journeys ever end? Are they worth keeping If the soul is betrayed And dormant evil stops sleeping? Always possibilities Is rest, or is passion? Has imagination no end, And the heart no compassion? Too many questions Are they answers themselves? Can we be sure of angels When thunder drowns out the bells? Curses may keep But blessings wear away When we‘ve asked all the questions What‘s left to say? THE ENEMY WITHIN The roar of the swells And the salt of the sea Do they frighten you? Perhaps that‘s the key Or a cold raging sky Dark at midday Squint, look around, Is this the right way? Or the road too soft Where there ought to be rocks Or even the thief With silent picklocks Do they frighten you? Do they give you a chill? Or are you excited, Hunter closing in for the kill? Perhaps it‘s the key To understanding you The fears and hates— Cursed desires too But when you look in the mirror Do you know what you see? My friend, my foe, You‘re looking back at me. UNTITLED #13 Is any revenge ever whole? Any victory ever true? Is any triumph all enough When faced with the yawning blue? Will I burst? My life too full Or will I wilt, empty— A saddened fool? Perhaps the balance Of letting out and in Is what keeps me together Krazy glue patches of grace, over sin And the world goes on All around, mean or kind The novas and rushing black holes Are all in my mind The battle, the war, The revenge and the death Is any feat great enough? It‘ll end with the very next breath UNTITLED #14 I look back To search for the giants I seek behind me The cunning pirates I look back And see the glory Of triumphs and of blazing falls Whether they be truth or story I look back And out goes my heart Wishing to ride With the best, from the start I look back And my spirit fails They giants are gone What‘s left, only tales I look forward And what do I see? No heroes ahead No greatness to be. UNTITLED #15 Tears are flowing From sightless eyes Useless ears are straining While numb fingers brush the skies A memory of darkness And a hinting of light Are all that pierce the mindless years Through deep and desperate plight When the world was young And some good remained In paradise, a nightmare erupted Whom it visits now is pained A solitude, a hazy dusk What evil is at work? Surrounded by all that is good Someone in misery does lurk. UNTITLED #16 I hear a wind Whisper in my ear The lights of the city Are burning clear But superimposed On the image I see A shadow of brilliance A mountain of trees In my mind An echo rings Of things once known— And memories it brings A reflection of past And what might yet be Ghosts around the edges Of the waves in the sea A touch, as soft as dreams Brushes my cheek And the mist-world fades And leaves me weak What has transpired? Where has time gone? A foul stench fills the air I‘ve tarried too long Here in the mind With all things kept safe Rebound again to the mortal world Yet lingers a memory of faith The bane and the curse of the mist-world Followed hope, following me, Trapped with me here, another‘s past evil Could be a future we mortals yet see. UNTITLED #17 Lightning winks Across a fair blue sky From a distance, the thunder Rumbles on high That the hunter Is the hunted Is an age old saying Much debated But what of the caterpillar, Would he cry, If he became a dark parody Of the butterfly? What of change? And How shall we master it, To keep from turning growth Into a stage, all lit All set for night For the crime of treason Beyond any hope Beyond any reason When we become That which we hate Have we any choice Or is it our fate? Run, cry, When you see the signs Don‘t let escape Pass you by. When lightning winks Across a fair blue sky Not so distant, the thunder That rumbles on high. UNTITLED #18 What does the heart Know of partings? In secret chambers, Memories are hearkening And yet we ask it This strange organ What to do and feel, and On emotion let it gorge Shall we meet gain? We cry, will it be the same? But the heart is wanton And soon forgets a name No prophecy can ring true From that seat of the soul Only desire and folly Leaving reason out in the cold And yet, even now Sanity is tempered By a temptation To forego ‗right‘ For temporary elation And how can we be sure Another ever feels for us? The same as we for them For with blindness we are struck And yet now, here at last we are, We have come to the end— With parting, due to ironic words of heart, You may know I‘ve loved you, friend. UNTITLED # 19 I dreamt one night A strange little dream And as I settled down It came to me That I stood on a cliff Overlooking the sea And everywhere I turned As far as I could see Were people, thousands, Everywhere, all around On mountains and in valley In the sky and on the ground And in many voices they spoke to me But only one face In all could I see And then I awoke With a start and a tremor To find I‘d been staring In an old shattered mirror. UNTITLED # 20 In the long dark watches of the night A voice cried aloud As darkness came to fade the light The voice echoed a cloud Whose thunder crashed and rolled In the unseen distance But the voice was bold And carried insistence It wasn‘t a cry That carried any word It was emotion—and a ―why‖ That from this voice was heard It was feeling personified Acknowledging darkness Despair ratified And the world‘s hardness Exposed and small The infant‘s yell Comes as he tried to crawl An ear-splitting, tolling bell For the infant doesn‘t want to stay He wants to be on his way The world is cold and cruel and hard And now his path to Heaven is barred. UNTITLED # 21 Staring at a star Distant, cold and burning bright Cold because of distance Or a memory of fright? It‘s said the stars Were angels, once upon a time Upon the earth they walked And sang their rhymes But the innocents they nurtured Turned against them, cruel, And man strove To dominate and rule Terrified, the heavenlies fled As their cries were mocked And the wrath of the Almighty Turned good earth to rock Insignificant, helpless, Alone and afraid, Man forgot the past— That he had once been saved. UNTITLED # 22 A distant cry From a wretched shore Echoes in the hollows And grows more and more One note, but a Symphony of pitch All who hear it tremble Both poor and rich But the knowledge Of from whence it comes Was lost long ago When the blood of wars flowed But legend has it Though no man can say That the cry‘s owner Has long passed away And this reflection So shrill in the air Is this creature‘s only Earthly heir But if you had seen This thing of old You‘d have thought it a man Left alone too long in the cold UNTITLED # 23 We are taught That light is warm That frost is cold And that bees swarm We are told Polite is good And all admonished Till we act as we should Bareness is death And wastelands are wrong This we all learn As we go along But if facts are true Are they always right? The evil of darkness Is disguised in dawn‘s light Where minds go astray, and wits are weak, then into the day does the death of dark creep? UNTITLED # 24 Written with this still fresh in mind: ―Tolkien is not hopeful about our age. The elves have left us, and we have not mourned to see them go.‖ –Professor Paul H. Kocher Long strands of dreams Swaying in the wind Why did the perfect All have to end? A single leaf Blooms in a day The color of miracles With trees to sway A dance, a march A parade, so triumphous Until the last leaf falls All will be glorious A haunted, the hunted Look of one Who knows too much Enters the aging sun Until at last On a distant-near day A silent shiver And a giant sway Of balance send Perfection down Into the depths Of the ancient ground A memory, a dream Of all it was and has been Is all that remains In the minds of men UNTITLED # 25 Why does death fascinate? Do we not understand Or know it only too well, This echo of things so grand? The world of spirit Is not supposed to be real But we all live and go there Even against our will Just because a thing Takes no physical form Should not close our hearts Or leave us forlorn We ought to strive To be there too But that‘s the difference Between me and you You will stay behind You remain blind While I answer the ―why?‖ And reach out to the sky Until all the world has turned to dust Each part must be played, so we do as we must. UNTITLED # 26 Little ghosts flitting Around the edge of vision Almost but not quite Stepping into oblivion Can you see me? I see you Floating by the backdrop Of the yawning blue A breath of the future Whispering away From the dawn of time To the end of things Brush of the past Will it last? World fading, receding Into darkness, life bleeding As this existence fades Our world is changed Run far, get gone! Dare not to tarry long Your disbelief in things untrue Is what makes them target you… UNTITLED # 27 Something tells me You don‘t see Something lets me know You want me to go Shall I leave? Or should you stay? Will you win, or Do I get my way? Petty and pointless Purposeless form There‘s nothing to it This idiotic poem. UNTITLED # 28 Turn it off Turn it down Sit down, shut up Now now now! Unplug that Give me it Shut your mouth Sit sit sit! Put it up Set it there Put it out There there there! Oh no! a mess See what you did— To big for just one Kid kid kid! UNTITLED # 29 (moment of weakness) Burning Coughing spewing Choking hewing Away Trees falling Clouds laughing Dark calling Somewhere Light is bright Now tainted With night But where No relief No escape No belief In pain That ends The torture Wins So much For skies That don‘t laugh Or lie I wish I could I would I should— Too late. The Journey Sometimes, somehow The ending‘s not important It‘s the journey not the threat Of a future torment Or even the hope Of yet-to-come liberation Is how you get there With all deliberation A cliché so old None listen anymore But still it‘s true the wait Is better than what‘s in store Once you‘ve got there What will you find? Not one of the things You‘ve left behind Memories fade And trinkets are lost If you don‘t love the journey How much greater the cost! Someday someway somewhere You will arrive Be proud the journey‘s worth Is shown in how you did survive. Victory Victory! Comes with the smile of the sun With the feeling of warm, Green grass And blue skies And clear rains Washing away the lies Small shadows of doubt Are brushed away Victory for now! Victory for today! For this moment, hour, Passing breath We pass the test Even though later May bring regrets For now it is good And is certain Like the wonderful Ending—start— Of a story, Comes the cry: Victory! The Star Spy softly A star, faintly glowing Moon obscured With dark clouds flowing Sun hidden down Behind the earth Cringing before The night‘s wide girth But watch A star shows Faintly shining There it goes! Falling— Down, down! Into the land As if thrown away By the Fates‘ hand It touches earth See the shadows fear! A new day is dawning Now hear, hear! Never more Shall the night hold sway Never more will we long For break of day For day is always With us here A spark kindled to fire Leaves no room for fear UNTITLED # 30 Break out, up, away, Into your tomorrow Never close your eyes For joy is inside sorrow All the clouds Form your fantasies And every rainbow Is a testimony… To the light Of the sun And how far We can run When we spread our wings And the trees all sing Skimming across the ground Filled with the light‘s sound Shadow-wisp wingfeathers towards the sky Wishing, hoping, dreaming, knowing, we will fly The flame of the moon Strikes down far Leaving upon your enemies A faint drawn scar But it is your mantle A saving blinder From the harshness of earth A telling reminder… Of the light Of the sun And how far We can run If we just spread our wings And when the trees all sing Skimming across a sea of sound Filled the joy of the clouds Shadow-wisp wingfeathers towards the sky Wishing, hoping, dreaming, knowing, we can fly But all good things Come to an end And far away We will be sent Until the bliss Is just a memory But our hearts will ring With the testimony… Of the light Of the sun Of how far We did run When we spread our wings And all the trees did sing We skimmed across the world of night Our souls filled with the dawn‘s first light Shadow-wisp wingfeathers towards the sky Wishing, hoping, dreaming, knowing, we did fly Forbidden Secret Quick! Shut it fast Make it fast! Tie it tight, bind it down, Bury it deep, deep in the ground Never let it loose! you would not choose To end your world this way Just thanks to a careless mistake Careful! Handle with care Never touch it with hands bare Don‘t look, please look away! You don‘t wish to die today What is it? Why do you ask? Don‘t you know what it took To protect you all these years To keep you from your fears? Look away, look away! Don‘t go astray today! It‘s nasty and horrid and bad It is fear and anger, it is sad What is it, you ask? To answer is a great task— Wait! I told you not to look! Yes… it is… a book. Of the Ending of the World Carve from the shadow a reflection— When you strike it with a leaf It should sound like the echo Of a knife pulled from a sheath Wave it, an unflinching banner From the tops of the skies To the bottom-pit of the well It will sound like lies Bottle it in a single sun ray Stop it with a moonbeam Encircle it in a shroud of silky grass Hide it at the bottom of a stream Wait, until it matures in poison Eons of patience in hiding Watch over it carefully Until the great wave is falling When the doom of water-wall Hangs of everything, all Then catch t up to a great height And let it fall—fall— And down! Into the Gift The doom-curse of this world It will stop time in a bubble And its banner be unfurled Thus the Great End will fail You will postpone it— But in return for this, What do you get? Are you sure you want this? The world unchanging, on forever Do you know what it is you achieve, You who think you are so clever? An endless wasteland of nightmare An empty, heartless, craven place When life is over, so is death— Is this the truth you could not face? A Lamentable Limerick There once was a land called Peru And in it an old man knew If he lived forever He couldn‘t better At doing anything he knew how to do Lamentable Limerick the Second There once was I boy I knew Who wanted to know which way the wind blew So he dyed it all red But now instead Of nose he has a red ―ah-choo‖ The Leprechaun The leprechaun Had a pot o‘ gold I did not care I had a cold I told him this He laughed at me So then I chased him Up a tree But then he cried For he was scared So I backed down And then he cheered He didn‘t like me Very much But I had had Just quite enough And so I took His pot of gold And left him with My sneezing cold. A Pointless Poem The wizard‘s hat Blew off his head He was upset But then he said: ―Let the wind blow! Glad is the sound Someday again My hat will hit ground.‖ But his optimism Was out of place For the hat and wind Were in a race Who had more power? Who was swifter? But who would be first To end in disaster? The wizard never saw His hat again For it flew forever In the wailing wind Tattered and ragged it was And the wind out of breath But the wizard weren‘t surprised He expected no less. The Duel A river flowed next to a fire Gushing and cool and blue The fire, seeing this, burned brighter Attempting to lighten its hue The river, not to be outdone, Tripled its pace and size The fire, cunning-like, Threw out flames to reach the skies ‗I am River!‘ boasted the first Through the powerful voice of a wave ‗I am Fire!‘ countered the second, Flaming with a hot-cold rage On and on all through the night While the stars shone on high This ridiculous battle continued Right until the dawn drew nigh But the rays of the sun Swept over a land Drowned by water And blackened by a fire‘s hand Never more was the voice of flame Nor the song of water known An age had ended as opposites dueled And left bare earth alone. UNTITLED # 31 A peculiar hell Prison with no bars No roof or walls, yet You cannot see the stars Amazing, this place A unique dream Brand new way To rip out old seams Bursting, trash Filth evaporates As the ancient scent Fabricates The lies that lock The doors and slam The bolts, screwed tight Against a beating hand Thus, failing, Hope, spark, light Heads smile like skulls Watchers in the night A careful façade And all believe But are things always As they seem? THE MASQUERADE OF THE BARROW-WIGHTS They don their hats And scurrying rats Trip over themselves To ring dead bells They flaunt their cloaks And shivering spokes Of wagon-mockeries They drink from broken pottery Dark shadows of nature‘s nightmare Children hideous, share their wares As they take up tunes And fiery runes Of demented breath From beyond death Fill the air Look! Arriving! These so conniving Beings are welcomed, with an air They weren‘t here, but now are there Demons of a darker night Come to rend their awful plight They have come down, now fail your sight! Dressed as humans come the barrow-wights. UNTITLED # 32 Moon‘s grinning face Shines down like a hole A forgotten place in the sky A view of a forgotten soul Shadows creep Where we don‘t watch Blind, drunken laziness Pulled out all the stops And if ever shall a bird Survive the strangling cold Their song shall not be heard Ever more by the road Dark things pass Memories of fear Grow closer, grow stronger They know you‘re near Will you feed them? Sticking your head in the mouth Of the great wolf with grinning teeth They call you down Fall! Never see again The shape of your folly Never look up at the moon But see cold skies run though With the sword of vengeance and of death Draw now your last and painful breath THE PUPPET MASTER A desperate plea A wailing cry Rises like steam To an unforgiving sky And yet everywhere Are smiling faces And a casual observer Can find no traces Of deep hard scars And old open wounds Tears of the heart Dripping on tombs But on and on The moon smiles down So many mirrors But no echo of frowns An entourage of puppets Strings pull and turn But who the master? People soon learn Behind the curtains And beyond the masks Is empty death And a fading laugh… DREAM JOURNEY Beyond the end Of sleep and dreams Lies hope and purpose And the meaning of things Before the edge Of truly awake A desire burns That none can slake On the very tip Of possibility Something hidden Can be sensed, seen The search for it Is for all time Yet itself lasts Just for a line For dreams despair When minds awake Practical, rational So much at stake But the search itself For as long as it may last Can surpass all odds Giving what the mind lacks SITTING BACK AND WAITING A light mist hangs Between me and the world My thoughts unfold Then spring back in a curl A question mark spins Slowly in my mind Is everything a joke Or is it time? The clock rotates slowly Revolutions forward on But the secondhand back Going going gone Heart skips a beat Truth or imitation? An ending or a start? Asks imagination Sitting back now Interest, better wait Watch the stream of consciousness And for once trust to fate. Another Untitled Poem There's a dragon in the mirror And a song in the air So put a smile in your heart And a flower in your hair Let the phoenix song rise-- and give in to the cry melt into the breeze and know that you believe... Watch the roiling ashes As they burn in a soul Hear the pounding drums beat Out the two halves of a whole And watch the phoenix soar! feel the pain but know there's more the rush of triumph - love - ache dearly bought, free-willed fate A thousand empty years filled Last reach of the realness-place All things contained therein, love, And sadness, and your face. Watch the phoenix rising! from the ashes and the smoke feel the song throughout, within-- and hold on to that golden hope... Another Untitled Poem the Second I shall sing a song a song of wonder and of laughter of the lulling rainy pattern of a winter afternoon. I shall play a melody simple, sweet, of innocence filled with the fragrant incense of a chapel prayer room I shall think a world invent its shining forms and all of it shall be adorned with a tribute to serenity I shall stand alone on the edge of all that is think of love and life and sin and hope I can forgive And I will ponder loveliness and happiness and loneliness and how they all are such the same that all can spring from just one Name. Another Untitled Poem the Third Suppose you had a choice A difficult choice An impossible choice The right thing, the wrong The easy, weak or strong— Suppose you had a choice Your conscience or your heart One choice or the other Peace of mind or others‘ lives A soul or simple kindness Suppose you had a choice You couldn‘t decide You couldn‘t ignore A choice you couldn‘t make A scenario of pure fate Suppose you had a choice One thing or the other Mutually exclusive Too good things now cancelled out Two evils, both together now Suppose you had a choice An impossible choice What would you decide? The lesser of two evils or The sum of all the rights and more? We all have a choice Suppose we realize that An impossible un-decidable choice What will you choose now, today? The darker path or a lighter way? The Death of the Unicorn* Fair and noble creature Shining like a beacon bright White beam of hope for all oppressed A wandering guardian through the night Deep and somber eyes Smoulder as at them I gaze A hunger, thirst, for justice fills me And a knowledge of what you gave Fading vision which gives me hope I know now your sacrifice And begin to understand The reason why you‘re given life A small, cold soul Alone, forsaken, but surrounded By the hunting calls of demon-things You sprang forth—your trumpet sounded As the fatal end drew near Your own purity the shield Was willingly given to aid one lost To save a soul in an empty field The noble defenseless become defender Unworthies made whole by your sacrifice A noble death so others might live— To save those lost, the unicorn died. *Note the first: the unicorn is a symbol of Christ Note the second: some of Christ—a spark of divine goodness-lives on in each of us. What You Call Life I can show you beauty and I can show you pain And if you wish to learn it how to treat those two the same I can show you fame and glory show you poverty and death or, given time, most everything nothing more or less I can lift you up to greatness cast you down into despair Set you free or bring you down caught in a tangled snare Though you owe me everything few praise me, most just hate You curse me and belittle and pray to so-called ―fate‖ For I am what you call Life every mystery is mine And were I not so briefly spent, You could learn them all in time. The Vulcan‘s Vigil* Swirling sands and drifting dust whirl around a figure who stands tall, immovable, alone amidst the raging desert noon The heat a shield, oppressive blanket but the figure never moves robes stirred softly in the wind eyes unblinking, eyes upraised, never faltering, never fazed— Until at last long day is done thin air breathes more easily tall form moving, turning around waiting, waiting—comes a sound The stars shine clearly, brightly points of light in a velvet shroud and the cry of a hunting beast marks the start of its‘ nights feast And the figure nods its head while the pale star-cast shadow imitates the man who stands on the edge between life and wildland Behind, the stars are ever weak obscured by city lights and noises but ahead the view is clear so sky and memories are near Driven by the desert‘s cycle the figure is solid, strong and logical but born to stars and friendships great this soul seeks now a different fate *…it is a long way from the sands of Gol to Veeger‘s heart. ―and Spock knelt in the sand, holding what he would not leave behind, and no one seemed surprised.‖ (different, and yet not.) t‘hy‘la: Kirk called at the same time Veeger made itself known. (book.) Two sands, two worlds, two people: from choice to acceptance of choice. How cool is that?? Rock on Carolyn Clowes for taking ST: TMP to the next level with your Saavik novel. The Most Dangerous Weapon Misused* Truth exquisitely unveiled lovingly prepared dished out to each small doses—no harm done yet drops of terrible poison dripped one by one into your cup Lift, drink, smile how soon will the trouble start? Gone are all the fantasies of youth a bitter cup poisoned by unmitigated Truth. * ―The truth… it is a terrible and beautiful thing, and therefore should always be treated with great caution.‖ (or something like that.) ―The truth is generally preferable to lies.‖ ~ A.P.W.B.D. You‘ve Stopped Believing In Belief Do you believe in things unseen? The monster underneath the bed, Invisible God above your head? Do you believe in logicality? 2 + 2 makes four always except perhaps on holidays? Do you believe in dragons? Sphinxes, lobsters, barrow-wights, cats and creatures of the night? Do you believe in fairy tales? That all can be true Can come true for you? Do you believe in pessimism? The dark side of the soul The futility of the whole? What do you believe? Tell the world But first be sure to tell yourself Before you make your own hard hell Another Untitled Poem the… Whatever Number I‘m On Now When the heart and soul are broken whence comes the aid to heal their woe? when despair succeeds all conscious thought who can crush that triumphant foe? All the world is silent now darkness entombs, a final shroud but the silence echoes somberly all around -- round -- ound-- From where does this despair arise? who guides the steps of blinded Fate as he walks in step with Death and follows till it is too late? Some poisonous wound this world does bear 'gainst me or mine or all in all whatever the cause, where is the cure? what antidote to Adam's fall? Sitting alone in the quiet black ghostly limbs of trees enfold me all is grey and black and white but for memories once seen Though no aid comes and hails me now I have for help a thought of purest grace A flash of gold and song of fire a fleeting glimpse of Divinity's face And though the night is cold with fear and naught but a thought is with me here that memory lives with greatness bright I've a Living Thought for aid this night. An Untitled Fragment Remember that I'm laughing As the rain keeps pouring down Remember that I'm laughing Though you think I've drowned For I've a secret power Of which you know naught I've finally discovered it Hidden deep inside my thoughts So even though it's raining And lightning strikes too near Remember that I'm laughing For there's nothing to fear... A Prayer and Petition Give me the words, Lord Jesus I beg you to speak through me Please make of me the prophet The world so desperately needs. Lord, I will proclaim Your Truth If you but help me see the way I will follow you, my Lord Just give me the words to say. I hold a candle, wick unlit Lord, help me burn faith's light Show me the path before my feet Guide me and mine through the night. My God, your power overwhelms Give me the strength to stand Help me find the words, my Lord, To proclaim your Truth in this land. When the shadows lengthen and darken And the light of stars is gone out Lord grant me the faith to love you And courage to cast off my doubt Lord you know me truly And my God, you know what I fear Open my eyes and my heart Lord Your words, give me the grace to hear. Give me the words, Lord Jesus I beg you to speak through me Please make of me the prophet The world so desperately needs. A fragment Phoenix feathers and phoenix tears to soothe your soul, and ease your fears Phoenix blood and phoenix song to wash you clean, and make you strong Phoenix love and loyalty to mirror that of Christ the King. HERE I STAND (original version) and here i am standing at the edge of the world looking off the boundless cliff— go ahead, give it a whirl and here i am wondering now at the end of it all is it possible that i will once again take this fall? and here i stand waiting for what i do not know but knowing that if i wait long enough It will begin to snow and there i'll be with the whiteness falling all about me and i will laugh and spin around fall away from the ground until there i am spinning through the stars and i see the single teardrop of the sky And i know it isn't so far… there i go can't you see me as i dance away into the darkening sky can't you hear me as i say here i am standing here right in front of you but no one sees me, not at all they never do there i was all alone but surrounded by the world and the crowds pressed in, and i decided to give it a whirl and so now i stand here on the edge of the end of it all and i wonder what would be worse Falling or not falling at all… HERE I STAND – edited version (date uncertain) HERE I STAND (where‘s that? um. do i know?) and here i am standing at the edge of the world looking off the boundless cliff— go ahead, i tell myself (or was that the other voice?) lean into the wind… so here i am wondering now at the end of it all is it possible that i will once again take this fall? or—wait—did i ever fall that first time? but that‘s not what i meant to say not at all let me begin again: (for once i can do that) here i stand waiting for what i do not know but knowing that if i wait long enough i will find, eventually, whiteness falling all about me a faint pure snow and i will laugh and spin around fall away from the ground until there i am spinning through the stars seeing the single teardrop of the sky and i know (or think i know?) it isn't so far… there i go can't you see me as i dance away into the darkening sky can't you hear me as i say here i am standing here right here in front of you but no one sees me not at all, not quite, not even a little the operative word being not (they never do) and so there i was (like i‘ve been telling just now) all alone but surrounded by the world and the crowds pressed in, and i found myself fading with thoughts, and echoes of dreams solid now only in a different kind of place and so now i stand here, (and this is where you came in) me standing here: here on the edge of the end of it all beginning, end, both, neither endless circle each turn confusing but scented with the telltale trace of déjà vu and yet somehow wholly new and i wonder what would be worse-- falling, or not falling at all Another Fragment-like Thingy "The picture was not him but in essence he was the picture soul moment captured alter ego glossy and framed" SKY MIRROR I look up at the sky And see reflected back My face, my world, my life All I have and all I lack All this, while the rainbows dance spinning, flashing, twisting flames I count the stars, slowly, whispering names Every splashing raindrop is music, notes, a song thunder rumbles, lightning smiles …perhaps I knew it all along The mysteries of the smiling sun the deep call of the night impressed forever in my mind almost, not-quite, perfect flight Wings spreading out and up colors dazzle, the smells of life are vibrant, green, strong, real melding into the richness of night In the stars a thousand worlds exist all out there big, so much, so far… contained, compressed, inside of me— the dream, the fact, the possibility BUTTERFLY LIGHTNING Black, white, green, yellow-gold I am the butterfly in the snow You are the lightning and I am just me I didn’t know, I was too blind to see… I used to think, that life was wide and the streets were made of gold; and I was convinced I had it made thinking the sun would never grow old But then I, I went spinning off into space and learned a few things, about life and death and the power of a saving grace But all the time I was out there I felt something was out of place but I didn't know what, until one day I caught a glimpse of your face— But I'd gotten used to waiting, and I felt invisible. I used to think that truth was free and love was all that really mattered and they told me virtue was a thing of the past but I tried to keep holding fast. But then I, I left as the gilded door swung open and I learned a few things, and changed my mind, over and over about everything Then one day, I came back to earth and I just floated in the breeze just looking around, until I saw a shadow of what I'd missed but I'd gotten used to waiting and I felt invisible so I stood aside that day and I watched you go by and for a moment there, I was almost sorry to be a butterfly because I saw-- you were the lightning, the voice in the rain the shadow dancing beside me-- you were the laughter of a roaring sea you had those eyes that were fathoms deep you were comfort, danger, love-- and I passed it up. You see... I am just a butterfly free in the wind and flying—and I heard the thunder and I felt the sun and I wanted to soar with the lightning ...but I was too afraid. …Black, white, green, yellow-gold I was the butterfly too fragile to hold I needed time, and now it’s too late… Unless he might come back someday T R U T H There's a dragon in the mirror And a song in the air So put a smile in your heart And a flower in your hair Let the phoenix song rise— and give in to the cry melt into the breeze and know that you believe... Watch the roiling ashes As they burn in a soul Hear the pounding drums beat Out the two halves of a whole And watch the phoenix soar! feel the pain but know there's more the rush of triumph – love – ache – dearly bought, free-willed fate A thousand empty years filled Last reach of the realness-place All things contained therein, love, And sadness, and your face. Watch the phoenix rising! from the ashes and the smoke feel the song throughout, within— and hold on to that golden hope... I SHALL I shall sing a song a song of wonder and of laughter of the lulling rainy pattern of a winter afternoon. I shall play a melody simple, sweet, of innocence filled with the fragrant incense of a chapel prayer room. I shall think a world invent its shining forms and all of it shall be adorned with a tribute to serenity. I shall stand alone on the edge of all that is think of love and life and sin and hope I can forgive. And I shall ponder loveliness and happiness and loneliness and how they all are such the same that all can spring from just one Name. CHOICES Suppose you had a choice A difficult choice An impossible choice The right thing, the wrong The easy, weak or strong— Suppose you had a choice Your conscience or your heart One choice or the other Peace of mind or others‘ lives A soul or simple kindness Suppose you had a choice You couldn‘t decide You couldn‘t ignore A choice you couldn‘t make A scenario of pure fate Suppose you had a choice One thing or the other Mutually exclusive Too good things now cancelled out Two evils, both together now Suppose you had a choice An impossible choice What would you decide? The lesser of two evils or The sum of all the rights and more? We all have a choice Suppose we realize that An impossible un-decidable choice What will you choose, now, today? The darker path or a lighter way? I WANT TO HEAR THE STARS SING I want to hear the stars sing to feel the freedom of the night to know with deepest certainty the joyful rush of flight I want to see you there to know you're standing next to me For I know you can feel it too what it is to simply be I want to know your thoughts and wish to know what's true so I can hear the song of colors feel the fabric of their hues I want to hear the moon laugh in the middle of the day to have you always here with me till the end of all there is to say I want to hear the stars sing in the silence of that end and forever to go on like that just me and you, my friend. THE DEATH OF THE UNICORN Fair and noble creature Shining like a beacon bright White beam of hope for all oppressed A wandering guardian through the night Deep and somber eyes Smoldering, soulful, intelligent gaze Repeating the tales of things once lost And a knowledge of what you gave Fading vision which gives hope Now is known your sacrifice Why you were here, and what you did All for the lowliest, unworthiest life A small, cold soul Alone, forsaken, but surrounded By the hunting calls of demon-things You sprang forth—your trumpet sounded As the fatal end drew near Your own purity the shield Was willingly given to aid one lost To save a soul in an empty field The noble defenseless become defender Unworthies made whole by pure sacrifice A noble death so others might live— To save those lost, the unicorn died. COMFORT When the heart and soul are broken whence comes the aid to heal their woe? when despair succeeds all conscious thought who can crush that triumphant foe? All the world is silent now darkness entombs, a final shroud but the silence echoes somberly all around -- round -- ound-- From where does this despair arise? who guides the steps of blinded Fate as he walks in step with Death and follows till it is too late? Some poisonous wound this world does bear And harsher note was never called Whatever the cause, where is the cure? What antidote to Adam's fall? Sitting alone in the quiet black ghostly limbs of trees enfold me all is grey and black and white but for the memories I see Though no aid comes and hails me now I have for help a thought of purest grace A flash of gold and song of fire a fleeting glimpse of Divinity's face And though the night is cold with fear and naught but a thought is with me here that memory lives with greatness bright— I've a Living Thought for aid this night. THE OPPOSITES WITHIN I'm a tyrant, I'm a liberator Freedom fighter, renegade I'm a sinner, a believer A doubter and a saint I am noble but I'm petty Truthful and yet I lie I'm confused, I know it all Sometimes wrong but always right I'm consistent, I'm a paradox One, yet also many things I'm all of this, both more and less I am a human being I'm a friend and a betrayer A daughter and a leader A follower and no one's child Both loyalist and traitor The seeds of every dark thought Of all the greatness ever in the world Are possibilities, locked away in this woman, in this girl Shadows of what might yet be Are hidden deep in me Potential for both good and ill Here in this person that you see I'm perfect, I am flawed Not all darkness nor all light So in the end—I am my choice What shall decide, 'Who am I?' MY SILLY HEART What does the heart Know of partings? In secret chambers, Memories are hearkening And yet we ask it, This strange organ, What to do and feel, and On emotion let it gorge Shall we meet gain? We cry, Will it be the same? But the heart is wanton And soon forgets a name No prophecy can ring true From that seat of the soul Only desire and folly Leaving reason out in the cold And yet, even now Sanity is tempered By a temptation To forego ‗right‘ For temporary elation But how can we be sure Another ever feels for us? The same as we for them— For with blindness we are struck… And yet now, here at last we are, We have come to the end— With parting, due to ironic words of heart, You may know I‘ve loved you, friend. SEE THE STARS see the stars how they shine twinkling coldly far above while the pale city streets are suffused with blood and echoes of busy days and empty lives the stories they could tell! those patient, watching stars if they had but mouths to speak or we ears to hear the words of truth could we stand it? pure unadulterated undistilled rightful truth? would we wish it, this knowledge? but the choice was made, long before in a small garden by two children conversing with a snake and eating apples in the dawn's light we asked for it and someday it will come and it might destroy us but for the stars though they give us our death they will also be our new life FAIRYTALE'S END Sleeping, blonde-haired Fated royalty Dragons, legends Knights-to-be Little men Sing parodies Wicked witches Ill at ease Every story Every song Merged together All along Fearfully watching Afraid to look Each time a child Closes a book Moves on, grows up And leaves behind All formerly true things In the world of their mind Forgotten, forlorn Lost, abandoned Each magical being Fades from legend Across all time All space, how near A song, a lute A melody you hear: Come my children Sang the pipe Follow me To the end of the night Up the rainbow See them run! Leprechaun tricksters Having fun Sliding down I can fly... A darkening menace Builds in the sky And there at last At the rainbow's end Every fairytale legend Decided to send All their goodbyes Up into the sky Balloons popped slowly They didn't know why And one by one They fell inside A pot of gold And there they died. THE PHOENIX SACRIFICE The Phoenix sings a lament over a grey world drowning in its own fear a world losing its soul forgetting the rites the rituals abandoning the sacred for the profane Hope seems lost the dark cloud hovering shuddering yet though no one remembers except, perhaps, in a dream, the Phoenix is still swallowing all the poison meant for us, delivered by our own hands to our own lips Though we forget the act the whys the hows the Phoenix still sacrifices dies and, always, rises... MUSINGS There‘s a hole in my soul There‘s a rent in the sky There‘s a rip in the ground There‘s water in your eye And the wild wins howl Their lonely tunes As they go on their lonely ways And the sun is fire on the moons Every star in the sky Is a pinprick in my heart Every musical note Is the end of a start And the wild winds howl Their angry tunes As they go on their angry ways And the sun is fire on the moons There‘s a blue sea rising And it‘s not so surprising The raindrops are glass Reflecting the echoes of a song gone past And the wild winds howl Their defiant tunes As they go on their defiant ways And the sun is fire on the moons And the sun is fire on the moons WONDERING Staring at a star Distant, cold and burning bright Cold because of distance, Or a memory of fright? It‘s said the stars Were angels, once upon a time Upon the earth they walked And wove their rhymes But the innocents they nurtured Turned against them, cruel And man strove To dominate and rule Terrified, the Heavenlies fled As their cries were mocked And the wrath of the Almighty Turned good earth to rock On barren, lifeless earth, Alone, shuddering, and afraid Man forgot the past— That he had once been saved THROUGH THE STORM Trembling grasses Beneath sword-slashed sky Foaming mountains Crashing to water as waves Hair, billowing out Like a shivering sail A girl clings to light The sun‘s last ray A hope that shimmers Midst turmoil tRibUTe This is a poem it does not rhyme uniformly it does not follow a set patt- ern it is a bit like e e cummings/but if you would considerplease noticing h'esagenius and/i/am/ n o t REMEMBERING WHY Remember that I'm laughing As the rain keeps pouring down Remember that I'm laughing Though you think I've drowned For I've a secret power Of which you know naught I've finally discovered it Hidden deep inside my thoughts So even though it's raining And lightning strikes too near Remember that I'm laughing For there's nothing to fear... BITTERSWEET Bittersweet ache duty, love the mirror of hate Deepness, richness a loss for words cry--understand cry--undeserved cry--wordless; searching trapped but spreading far, yet still there endless chances, one only fate's decree Bittersweet ache BLAME blame me blame me for the mistakes if it makes you feel better blame me for your problems if you really want to but know i will forgive you no matter what no matter why or when or how blame me if you wish but all i wish is to love you to forgive and to forget QUERY believe this is the command proof is the counter-answer question whispers the world answer echoes the sky caught in between just me part answer part question and just trying to decide which is which BLINKING EYES, BEATING HEART Open, close. Blink, blink So simple So fast Dark eyelashes fluttering Why? Is it so hard to keep Them open, fluttering, In time To the slowing, Slow, Quick rush of air BREATHE But something blurs The eye and sticks One eyelash to the other And something tight keeps The air Out Out A sob? A tear? Closing, shutting, down— --rest— Silence… And cold, Cold, Dark. …unacknowledged rest… At last. But an internal time— Keeper— Ticks— On… WHAT PROFIT YOU? if indeed it is true that there is nothing more that all we are, are corpses already rotting in the dust then what profit you to take my belief and tarnish it? what power have you, over me, one carcass to another? what profit you? What harm does it do To let me go my way? on the other hand if i am right how much you have to lose by failing to take my word as the truth let me go do not detain me discourage threaten or deride me for what profit you to take my faith away when you have no intention of keeping it? Star Thoughts if i knew what stars were thinking then i think i'd understand the thoughts i thought i understood when i thought the thoughts i had DISCOURSE ON LOVE when I was young and love was all I thought I needed I thought love was the answer that would save the world when i was a young adult and i assumed i knew it all i saw that love had no real power and was best avoided but now that i am old i am wise again like the child i once was and i believe in the power of love and so it believes in me Picture Perfect The picture was not him but in essence he was the picture soul moment captured alter ego glossy and framed Raindrops; sheer glass shards Mirrors of uncertain fate Echo in our lives Uncertain dripping Hesitant pitter patter First slow rain of spring Fresh; wet flowers smile New awakening of earth Inhale a rich breath Star-flung teardrops fall Liquid shadows spinning down A torrent of grace Upturned face to see Crashing noise, flickering light Calm exulting rain spinning through the sky downward spiral rushing air rain drops through nightfall little rivers run rivulets tracing their paths across foggy glass the moon smiles now on a silver misted world haze of singing rain Dismal, dull and slow Aching sadness of the day Captured in the rain rain, saturating fulfilling, satisfying calm, deep, perfect peace Safe in lightning hands Raindrops are brushed from the sky Cushioned by thunder Heaven‘s eyes tear now Sky, blurring with the moisture Below, patient earth all raindrops fall down mirrors, reflecting echoes whoosh; drip; soul-deep sounds confessions. postcards. 6.11.06. i'm traveling now in a barren landscape with occasional flashes of sunlight or is it lightning? through the clouds to illuminate beautiful scenery but it is dark and i am blind and the thunder creates a rumbling racing panic rolling beat in my heart and breathing neon sign flickering morose illuminator of a savaged dump gift shop of the damned mildewy snacks and overpriced trinkets already falling apart in the back, by the door forgotten, overlooked musty cardboard box under piles of forgotten magazines and unwanted left-to-rot no-longer-needed advertising hype stuffed chock full of postcards beautiful places and beautiful faces sunlight and blue skies and energy small still windows into living reminders there's a world outside this sphere, snow-globe travesty vacation through hell break from normalcy and sane pick a few, sign my name write a line or two address, stamp drop them into a derelict blue peeling-paint deserted post office box on an empty corner wherever they come from i know where they're going and i know i'll never see those beautiful pictures again mailing postcards to myself from places i will never go from places i am not telling of things i don't know to fill up the empty house back there, where home used to be picture them overflowing the table in the kitchen and the mailbox on the edge of the lawn house stuffed with memories that never will be made snippets of false happiness that's a lie in this wretched place illusionary happenings cover-up on pain pretension, hurt and balm mailing all that's left to the past, back there leaving all of it behind everything everything in honor of a memory that is itself a farce leaving something undefined in its place mailing out these squares of cardboard with colors splashed along the front what do they mean, anyway? unmade memories of myself to false memories of we imaginary postcards to an imaginary me couldn‘t be a rockstar (don‘t want fame) (or anything) 6.11.06 i couldn't be a rockstar and i couldn't be famous i couldn't be a tv star and i couldn't be a groupie i couldn't sell myself to the highest bidder to win a ratings war i couldn't open up my soul to every druggie music addict and i couldn't make excuses for all the people listening when i know i'm to blame and i couldn't face the crowds and look them in the eyes not knowing who is right not knowing what's the lie and i couldn't sell some books unless i were anonymous because i couldn't stand the thought of pearls before swine or junk offered up as sacrifice to gods awaiting pearls i couldn‘t give myself to others can‘t give what i don‘t have what i don‘t know can‘t claim i‘m right when i don‘t know for sure can‘t give in to the false shallow illusory dream-world passing for reality these days, not knowing if i am of that world or its worst enemy couldn‘t, can‘t, because of the failure because i couldn't stand before the judge and look her in the eye and say with steady voice and honest soul the only thing that matters saying i couldn't and i can't give myself to them when myself is all unknown to begin with how can i look those strangers in the eye when my friend and foe are one, the enemy in the mirror, who has already defeated me again? indecision. 6.11.06. how very disconcerting to look inside yourself and find not courage or originality nor anything so special bold or beautiful or worthwhile just small squishy bits cells blood tissue organs and nothing to indicate why there is a sudden shortage of for lack of a better word backbone what is missing so no absolute can be chosen absolutely and no decision made with a firm hand? somewhere there must be something else but where and what? completely malleable. 6.11.06. stark bare spartan plain plain black words on white paper cursor blinking calmly patiently on the void white of the screen keys hit slowly, words form by letters safe no worry no hurry no fear backspace delete undo exit: only a click away what a relief to know that these mistakes don‘t have to stay mistakes no consequences and no responsibility no one holding you accountable click the button tap the key and it‘s all over, undone, fresh whole anew again made clean but secretly inside where nothing is erased looms the shadow of cowardice and the knowledge of all and who you‘re running from. from one pseudonym to the other. 6.11.06. writing reviews reading the neat type and understanding exactly what the author was going through praise colorful adjectives and brutal honesty at points, needed or not just like the author in her writing describing what is written without retelling smiling now, putting pen to paper and typing up the lines print, nod, satisfied walk across the carpet to the shredder calmly and deliberately unmake them all reviews, and the reviewed its all for the author anyway alone for her, and all in her head writer and reviewer experiencing and understanding telling and interpreting both review myself saying what others will never say reading what others will never see release, not bottled up inside but released in incinerating flames creation destroyed in the moment of birth while an amused smiling watcher plays god and feels the falsity and the truth through and through. whowhatwherewhywhenhow. 6.11.06. i think the changes that we note and thresholds we become aware of as we cross are distractions real, but smoke screens but the real changes are the subtle ones that sneak up on us no matter how vigilant our watch and then we are left wondering some day sitting in puzzlement when did it happen and where and why and how and what does it mean? after all. confession. 6.11.06. forgive me please for i have sinned it has been two years--or so i think since my last confession so why confess here? now? to you? because i do not understand and you are either my superior or so much less than i and i do not understand and confusion has become my (natural?)default state wash me clean show me the path teach me what understanding looks like remind me of what i have forgotten can you? can you? can you? you are silent dumb and stupid you can tell me teach me show me nothing or is that me? i am lost in the maze cushioned ceilings and mirrors of words worlds of either glass or reflections and i cannot tell and do not understand forgive me please for i have sinned or was that you? balance between two opposites teeter-totter rocking war because that's the way it is? or because everyone(i?) has failed to see they're both the same? am i asking for forgiveness seeking to grant it or both? FIND OUT. IMPOSTER 6.11.06. fear so close to succeeding failure would be so possible so tempting if success trumps failure what then? what then when they discover it is i am hollow false a fraud? not what they say. 6.11.06. it doesn't fit the rules by classic definitions it is not and yet it is does anyone need to understand? even those living within it? not within/not without. 6.11.06. wanting needing asking taking why? because i want to give but have nothing or at least cannot find it what is not within us we cannot find in anyone else but we humans are silly creatures that does not stop us from trying we know our head connecting with the brick wall hurts but still we harbor some hope or delusional drive of commitment that keeps us banging steadily away anyway. how many times. 6.14.06. how many times can you say goodbye before you can accept it? and how many times can you say you're done before you actually mean it? and how many times of repetition and hurting memories and echoes in the empty space where you used to be does it take before it really is over? over. 6.14.06. it's not over while i still remember and it's not over while this still hurts and it's not over until i've moved on you're done, finished, gone over? you've stopped and now i'm continuing on alone, just sheer momentum? whatever and whyever for me "over" is just a bump on a road that is suddenly dark deserted lonely cheerless friendless and coming to a screeching halt where the cliff ends up ahead to reference that one quote i liked so much if i have faith do i believe there is a ledge beyond the fall and not just empty nothing? or perhaps by some miracle i will be given wings and shown how finally at last (maybe/i wish/despite the terror) how to fly. ---- these taken from, and in some cases edited, the ‗poetic portfolio‘ of my soph. yr.-- The Haiku Speaks I remember now Contradiction that was found In logic so sound The Tanka Speaks Internal thought-wave Reflection of nature‘s might Hidden deep beneath The proverbial basket A bushel of protocol Blackberry Prophecy The voice of the blackberry Came in just in time To her, with one foot in the grave And the other on a banana peel ‗a stitch in time‘ the voice announced ‗saves the whole nine years of the front line ‗between the devil and the deep blue sea.‘ But she dropped a needle Got lost in the haystack And that cloud licked the blackberry up Preservation. Abstract art So easily interpreted (they say) but They say lots of thing and who are they, anyway? No one seems to know not really it‘s personal either way For the author And the viewer And it‘s all about how They (the OTHER they) – (the important ones) – See it—wouldn‘t you agree? Emotion, here, the height of good Truth preserved by those who lied --- end section taken from poetic portfolio--- N2S: p. 96 – 114 poem taken from previous section to keep as possibilities for LAD p. 135 – 140 other really old poems, but not included in previous pages p. 183 – 187 are some other old poems, but never before typed or saved elsewhere most others past this point all written after 6-11-06 (postcards), and the ―Long Hiatus‖ but some are from other places and older (should be dated) scattered in, added as I found them Thought Section Nine (unknown date; compilation of earlier fragments.) Penguins in a bottle Stoppered with a cork Floating down a river On a silver fork If I were a butterfly I'd be a panther's friend And if the sky was purple I'd laugh until the end Penguins on a tightrope Dancing high above the ground Watch as they go flying Through the speed of sound Nothing much is funny While the sun is up Down around along the ground Lemon in a cup Penguins laughing always Autumn, artic, albany Between the height of glory And the cold shore of the sea Teardrop of a frog A prince's pearly crown Living like the dead Because the world is drowned Penguins penguins penguins Everywhere i look Penguin after penguin On the pages of this book Tiny trumpet sounding A silver note of dawn In a golden cage of feathers On a green and grassy lawn Penguins in a teacup Spinning through the sea Rocking out to silence The purple socks and me / she said. 6.21.06. (in a mirror darkly.) she said i was walking on air i was walking on the stars i was walking on sunrise sunshine i was walking on clouds till i looked down she said air is too thin that high up and the stars are prickly burnings on your feet and on the sunshine you leave ugly footprints in something that was once as clean and pure as you once were too and clouds are misty wet and cold wrap around your ankles like wet tendrils of memory and shame dragging you down and tickling the senses with things you'd rather not think or remember so you hurry and then they trip you up and you fall she said i don't love you anymore and i am dancing in the sky she said my memory is faulty and it‘s deleted you like easily erasing neatly printed words on the markerboard she said i cannot tell the truth to you because the truth it hurts and i cannot tell the truth to me because it would make me laugh too much and laughing hurts the worst she said i knew it all along she said it was all a lie and true at the same time she said i knew i was a fool and you're a bigger one she said don't look up you're hanging upside down she said look within yourself (to the reflection on the wall) (while facing you) (and the crowd listened in from the hall) she said as i raised my head to look her in the eyes when i met her gaze unsteadily in the mirror and knew she lied. traveling. 6.21.06. you should not be afraid to put your feet on the floor even in the dark get up and walk what do you think is awaiting you in the now-dark shadowy corners of the familiar? has some evil crept in while your back was turned? did you turn your back? or are you afraid of what was there all the time (is)-(not was)-(don't you think?) that you think is now revealed? why is seeing so important? why is knowing such a must-have? why do fear and the unknown seem to go together? what happened to faith or to trust? did they ever even exist at all (? outside a dream-- -i wonder) don't you? when you face a dark mirror and corridors of silence? (The) Insomnia(c) somewhere around 3 a.m. once again i cannot sleep (has the sandman lost my address?) the ghosts whisper too loudly and the silence throbs against my eardrums and even when i try i cannot keep my eyes closed for long ...the blank ceiling is just... too compelling (insert look and shake of head here) who's to say what's true anymore tent of sheets and blankets best friends: flashlight, paper, pen explore this world together and the others past and future last (worst?) of all; might-have-beens remind me once more how did this happen? nowaitpleasedon't please i do i don't (already) want to know fortress castle turtle shell house of cards see-through impermeable closed off; open; can't-see-through it idon't want to come out-- can i? hmm. i wonder. opposites collide and wide awake the sleeping begins see? get it? understand? finite! (finally) this part ...maybe?(!)(.)(...) (but wasn't i passed this already this part wasn't i?) don't forget [gotta go sometime] [gotta stop somewhere] [and infinity waits] possibilities all dying reborn danger kept safe behind that tv and over two steps look. she walked into the room and turned all the lights on one by one feet making a soft whispering brush against the carpet as she moved from room to room and light to lamp and then she stood in the center letting the light fall about her from all angles obliterating her shadow arms raised tense eyes shut then slowly opened she held them open so wide staring so boldly holding that pose by sheer force of willpower and then she took a deep breath but without relaxing and the tension became her solidifying her form etching her essence into the air holding her held by her and then without ever blinking she opened her eyes again. "the song without music" 1. so if the end justifies the means then who justifies the end and who justified the end of me and they tell me that it doesn't matter how i do it how i get through the day so long as i come through who cares how? how hard how why how it's done how how how feel like i'm staring out from behind impenetrable mirrored sunglasses but my face is naked alone exposed saved and damned in its sheer invisibility how can i expect love how can i expect you to love me how can i expect you not to? it doesn't matter (doesn't it?) strolling down the street smiling for every pang in my heart trying to make the bitter sarcastic (like anybody notices anyway) when everything hurts all the references and former jokes and the pleasure has become pain they stare at me seeing what i project (and what i do not want them to) but it's okay because they do not understand and they wonder or laugh at the non-song i hum half-sing under my breath song with no music un-melody of words alone a song without music like this life has become 2. the song without music echoes in my head rolling around in the too-big empty space like a loose marble in an old rusty collector's tin can vibrating nagging annoying compelling unforgettable (unforgettably boring) me and not me (so sick of these opposites) (the same and different) (yet there they are) (i could sooner escape from the confines of ineffable ineffability as my favorite angel would say) the whole truth (and nothing but) (how terrifying) trying not to wake the parents staring at my computer screen late at night munching on... anything available and listening to the night noises and silences and just trying to cope even when it doesn't seem like there's anything, really, to cope with and my memory is pulling it's funny little tricks and i can't tell if they're right or i'm getting over him/it/you/everything thinking i was challenged with the truth (i can't turn down a challenge?) but this here/now/this/it/him/you/everything ...and these words... is more honest than i bargained for (and perhaps, for you, too-- do you think?) Boiling Point I FEEL LIKE SCREAMING AND BEATING MY FISTS ON THE WALL AND THROWING THINGS AT YOUR HEAD AND LETTING LOOSE WITH THE FORCE OF A THOUSAND NUCLEAR SUNS EVERYTHING E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. HELD INSIDE FOR .FAR. .TOO. .LONG. HOW DARE YOU AND HOW CAN THIS BE? AND IF IT‘S MY FAULT HOW CAN YOU EXPECT ME, ME TO BEAR IT (WITHOUT YOU?) BUT INSTEAD I WILL SIT HERE quietly and type this out and pretend that everything inside my mind is calm, quiet, just as I am here on the outside and that I am sleeping, instead of insomniac, troubled by these old memories, new wounds not yet made into scars, and haunted by the ghosts of what was what I thought was what might have been and (worst?) what never will be. Am I controlled? Or broken? Or something... --worse-- ? Neither? Yes. Confused. (Not so bad?) (Worse.) I think? Why can‘t you just leave me alone? …come back? What the heck just happened?, or: the continued beating of my head (that is to say, my soul, against the, completely metaphorical, or at least allegorical, if not only applicable) brick wall. Come now Faulty memory Work your tricks Allow me to forget Just this once What it would do me good To completely And totally Forever Have erased from my mind And washed clean from my soul Treacherous glob of grey matter Turning against me like this Traitorous consciousness Providing Exquisite detailed high-color Memory Instead How can I make you care? You, total stranger, reading these words What can I possibly say To convey The way I feel like slime And the why‘s (As though those really matter In the end… Or so I think; in my bitter moments) And how can I still be trying to reach out (in the only way I know how) When reaching out brought me this low In the first place (and what I don‘t know how to do Is what now Is truly Killing me) ? Creation/Creator 7-16-06 (1 year anniversary of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince) sweeps of green dust sparkling piles of thought hills waiting to be born buds of trees blooming hesitantly before the frost of the dark of the end of thought dripping paint brush streak of new vivid wetly oozing blue slash of a sky coming down around the edges to tuck in the corners and smooth rough edges over and enclose airless but perfect the seed of a world still feeding on hope watered by potential waiting waiting waiting w a i t to burst into action (again) surface (echoes) i'm sorry (I'm tired of being sorry what do I have to be sorry for?) i wish things weren't like this (what is this, after all? a mess of your own fault. mostly?) do you even remember? (how can you forget what will not leave my mind alone?) i don't understand (how you changed, and even though i tell myself it's stupid i fear--my fault...) what's wrong with you? (what's wrong with me?) how can you be like this? (why can't i change?) you're scaring me (i am afraid) why? (why?) how can you not care? how can i not (what words are there for how heart-renchingly gut-twistingly soul-killingly un-bearably unendurable this misery that makes you happy is for me?) i think i'm going to be ill (how can i let go when i do not remember beginning to hold on or realize what i'm holding on to, when lovely metaphors are not solid enough to make a difference down here) i don't know how (i don't know how) and, i know, i'm just talking to myself (alone, alone, abandoned-- by you or the illusion i created? no matter.) *silence* (end result = the same) I Was Not Ready 7-19-06 I Was Not Ready I tell you I was unprepared Who could have expected it? So soon So sudden So... --abrupt It's insane no, Truly, I cannot be held accountable Surely For what has snuck up on me So condemnably I Was Not Ready That first time (Second?) Two opposites encircle my life Twins, on each side of the coin Holding hands Surrounding my heart Cliché--beginner's luck Also true--The First Time's Always A Mess Up I WAS NOT READY! Do you not understand? I WAS NOT PREPARED! No one told me it would be like this No one warned me about After No one gave me any hint ANY HINT the WHOLE TIME they speak of the glories of walking on clouds With the sun shining and the wind blowing and someone Someone Oh such a Someone There to hold your hand To make you safe and challenge you And share it with you NO ONE TOLD ME NEVER NOT ONCE That those famed and suddenly thunderous perfect, beautiful out-of-reach clouds are insubstantial and CANNOT HOLD YOU UP when Someone let's go and/or you let go of Someone NO ONE SAID A THING After painting the glories of the flight of love about what it FEELS LIKE When F a l l i n g you are all all alone poised on the brink of destruction and hit the hard, hard ground I was not ready To Not Be Ready… ….and… And yet, Somehow, Even still— I cannot blame those who never said a word They are old Their wounds-- --from impact have long healed And the light of memory is all that illuminates that once so precious time…. But I shudder to think that someday I, too, Will never not once say a word. We Come Bearing Water Pistols 7-19-06 We come bearing water pistols and edible grenades Licking sticks of dynamite red lollipops Blissful children if not entirely unaware Still excused the burden greatest burden of caring understanding caring about understanding, too Playing pool party in a gasoline spill with our matchstick soldiers While the hot sun beats down Life goes on around --and yet stopped, breathless, watching us totter unknowingly along the brink-- we are the old the young the youth we are immortal and dead we are the past and the future living in the present And before us stretches our destruction disguised as green and tree filled parkland And behind us stretches year after year all of our games become real And here in this one infinitesimal/eternal moment (the present) we stand upon the smallest question mark with the biggest shadow. Man Hunt/Secure the Fortress/Shoot to Kill 7-19-06 AFTER HIM See that shadow flitting fleeting On the wall, up ahead, turning the corner LISTEN closely STILL THE PANIC OF YOUR HEART And strangle the butterflies of your stomach HE WILL HEAR SHHH! You are COLD And you must FIND HIM He must not be allowed to get away to be FREE ....too heavy.... the chains weight down and he is so free THAT IS WHY YOU MUST FIND HIM he is the one who deserves these burdens and if you cannot transfer them then you will encircle him with these traps if you have to go down HE DESERVES TO he runs from his own shadow thinking it is you but soon the sun will come out and the shadow will fade and you will be left and he will be gone and the injustice will seep in soaking surrounding saturating with its swampy musty dank rotting smell and poison all life within the fortress Secure the Fortress! Shut the doors Slam windows Board up cracks Stuff rags in slits CORNER IT BEFORE IT GETS OUT DON'T this time let it escape And don't let that other one in from the outside you know he does not seek entrance merely the shortest distance between two points and though you could not catch up farther than that shadow you will not grant him this last satisfaction-- ATTACK ATTACK WE ARE UNDER FIRE ...and shut inside there is no escape THERE! Cornered at last Approach carefully it is okay to shake now reveal to it to him in your presence in your face in what you hold in your hand what you are and feeling and going to do in fact already doing watch in the eyes as understanding dawns the ultimate revenge exacted in the last and final moment there is no plea for mercy no continuing pity no lie but finally at last for once the once it matters most you are the conqueror and he is left looking back at you wanting wishing knowing TOO LATE Raise the hand steadily still the shaking now look deep in those eyes (one last time) QUICK BEFORE REMORSE (there can be no remorse he got away he is free it is your turn YOUR TURN YOURS) NOW! aim true and SHOOT shoot to kill once and for all KILL THAT MEMORY (bitterness/sadness/relief/regret TORTURE) and be done. DONE DO YOU HEAR ME? DONE So I Tried. So What? 7-19-06 i tried to think of yet another "original" (so called) way to express to tell you without telling you what i am feeling (as if i knew) but i discovered out of all that i could invent to say three words already made (and now as i write how many possibilities of what those three could be occur to me) but i'm afraid i find i have to quote this one single phrase--- "ocean front property" (but i feel i must add it says too much not enough just enough but it's so really solidly true (i think? oh do not doubt now still your quaking) the meaning inescapable and that makes me feel so very trapped.) Too Close and Too Personal 7-19-06 Must I admit defeat? I have done my best to forget you I have deleted and trashed all the pictures The cards The notes (I'd already eaten the candy.) I have not, will not, can not see you I am surrounded by (what) friends (I have) I have eaten bowl after bowl of ice cream (Threatening/living/scoffing the stereotype) And all these little distractions just for, kicks, let's list-- internet phone movies books work Surround me fill me blow my (too empty not empty enough) mind All the little reminders are gone And yet you rather your memory persists (if you had persisted believe me how much happier i—we?—would be and this poem would not exist (now there‘s a happy thought. not really. i know that i was wrong but did i really mean so little to you? slow-killer, knife wound of the soul the heart i don‘t know how i could have but how could you NOT?)) Why? Must I cut off my own hand Because you once held it If only to forever scrub all trace of you from my life To sterilize finalize completely-- ...realize... I was beaten before I began From the moment I said goodbye And probably before I can try Oh how I have tried But even your memory pale shadow of what once was Is to strong for me (This here This now This night God help me.) How you would pity me if you could see me now. But that, I think, would be worse. Do not doubt me I already doubt myself. Do you know? You will never know Because from your point of view I am the unforgivable enemy but i swear i would swear, if it would do ANY GOOD YOU CHOSE this was your choice this is what you want isn't it?(pleasedon'tanswer idon'twantoknownotagain) how can i forget when like a grain of sand itching, unreachable in the corner of my eye that thought haunts me day and night even in my supposedly so happy dreams (and even then i dream of you) and how i felt before before the aloneness before feeling trappeduncertainhelplessaloneALONEALONEALONE stuck into collision course with disaster what else could i have done? what else? what else? what else? IDON'TKNOW falling apart, crumbling from the inside out it is over for you, just beginning for me and still i cannot decide. still. right/wrong/better/worse no longer matters all that i know now is the unhappiness and that has become all that matters. i no longer believe in second chances. no longer. no longer. no longer. (and the desperate desperation melts into the sickness that is self revulsion, and utter hopelessness and so The ghost that is my now-me fades calling words that thin and spread and disappear by their own insubstantiality and a wind of questionable source ...I ......a.....m.... ................s....o..... ..........................s..o...r.....r.......y.... In a world where true absolution is always forever completely denied unattainable and useless. ------------------------------------------------------------- In the Faithlessness of Dark 8-23-02 In the faithlessness of dark creep the bold things and the stark what ifs roam the barren street; nightmares howl and clang like sleet; and all the while a child sleeps the sleep of innocence, in darkness deeps not scared of anything by day at night, afraid, ere what they say the two-sided child lands deftly, like a coin of day, the brave, of night, the storm storms of evil glaring foes, waves of beasts and enemies in throes in the faithlessness of dark, in town, in school, playground, park bedroom house, street corner, too lie the answers to answer you; if anyone is brave day be warned at night and stay away lest you hear their mournful weeping, caused by the frights that stop their sleeping. for in the faithlessness of dark lies the mirror to each man's heart. The Tempest and the Storm (uncertain date written; long ago, tho.) Abstract shapes sliding down Gray clouds form lines Densities slowly dissolving Water down a background of slate Waving words unaccustomed to violence Trees like the rainbow above, hidden Like the darkest moonless night A tale without words A song with no tune The mystery bound to the inevitable The flash of noise and deafening sights Lost, drowned, blinded, In dark Some other really old poems I found in another file are going below: I SIT IN THE SHADOWS (12-7-04) I sit in the shadows and laugh at the world Because the world is wrong and I am right Perhaps I'm the world, but we'll never know Everything is covered in the dark of the night Just because the stars shine down from above Does not mean they are friendly or warm Just because they all look alike Does not mean that they all are the norm When you look around and see this life Do you only see the shadows cast? Becuase there's more to life, you know Average doesn't mean it's always like that -- THERE IS A FINE LINE (12-7-04) There is a fine line Between the end Of an enmity lost And the start of a friend There is a fine line Between love that we share And love that we don't Even want to bear There is a fine line Between rhyme and reason But the difference is marred Between every season There is a fine line Between things that are lost And things that have merely Too great of a cost There is a fine line Between poets and weakness And the things that we share And the things kept in darkness There is a fine line Between life and rest But there's no real change Between love and death There is a fine line Between actions and thought And all the times we Didn't do as we ought There are many fine lines Throughout all the Earth But there is no difference Between sadness and mirth -- -- (12-7-04) -- The darkness laughs But I will cry Forever more And I wonder why There are too many options Not enough actions Too many pieces Such different factions I will laugh And the darkness will sob Since when has the light Been one to rob? Perhaps everything Is an egotistical dream Or maybe this life Isn't as it seems Language just fouls Everything, all So why do I write? Because I can't stand tall Can't open my mouth To voice my scream Or my song or my sob Or my laugh or my dream So the words flow out But silence is better Or is it just thoughts That make the world wetter? For when the rain comes All's washed away The greyness fits the mood No matter what's to say I guess that all I really think Is that everything Is all kinda bleak-- --ly satisfyingly-- --paradoxically- -a Pandora's Box?- all fused... the muse, has left me. -- -- (12-7-04) -- When nothing in the world will work And nothing in the world is right Then you must look out of the world With your divine inner sight When nothing out there makes any sense When it's too strange for thought Then come back home and crash back down Upon you earthly cot Either way you're not alone In this world or out of it Just make sure to climb the cliffs of mohey and over the edge, spit Then you'll have lived And you'll have died And you'll find your soul Never really lied You were just confused But aren't we all? Just sit back And enjoy the fall It won't hurt Until you land And maybe not then If you land on sand For all the world's A cookie jar And all the people, crumbs That the decor mar But in a way It makes perfect sense Colors clashing It's a clean rinse To get rid of all The things you don't need To get back to the life You were meant to lead. -- -- 1-5-05 -- I'm scared and I don‘t know why but i can't seem to cry and yet the sky seems to fly away, there it goes where? no one knows would that I could only follow wake up to a different 'morrow hear the beat of my heart change, and start to pound to the rhythm of the flames that curl and burn round the names that have touched me and i see and i hear what is near a burning soul fire an icy desire to fit into the pattern to hold up the lantern and discover my color apart from any other unique, alone surrounded, to atone for the sin that in the end always, always gets me -- -- I am facless I am nameless You don't know me You don't care You'll never know What I could be I'll never show true When you look at me So just go away You don't want to stay It's over, it's done Now I've had my say.... -----end flashback of old poems from other files. Copied here exactly as found. (edited later.)---- Inspired by Half a Sentence (This half of a sentence, in fact, which I once wrote, stored, and forgot about for a long while: I want to fly to the moon on wings of airy gold, and have the stars all fall into alignment, a sparkling walkway,) I want to fly to the moon on wings of airy gold and have all the stars all fall into alignment a sparkling walkway on which i can descend to the pitted boundaries of the weightless satellite where i will half-turn as though surprised dew-drops lingering in my hair like starshine and see over my shoulder the rising of the world blue green white brown turquoise paints whirled into a sphere hazy at the edges where the friendly atmosphere is nearly indistinguishable from sky and space i would float quite contentedly, but with aim hidden power, careful control in my relaxation surpassing opposites into the shadowy brilliant place where they are one all i would watch the galaxies spin a ballet for my enjoyment and i would feel surging within me the confidence of a thousand a million an eternity of existence and yet see each new-old wonder as though new born, vision furry about the edges but continuously surprised amazed thrilled fulfilled, contented, made whole ever-in-awe at the wonders, spectacular and everyday, that i would see i would spread my arms my wings raise my face to the heavens that are now so close i could almost stand on tip toe to brush my nose against the footstool of God i would be everything and nothing i would know all and all would know me we would be one creation and i yet not of each other until the last silence lifted and all began again and i understood and was ready. The Other Me 7-20-06 Heads turn I keep my eyes on the floor Voices, directed at me ...invisibility is so much easier why are they talking to me? small steps, but fast quickly move go on out of the way-- ...out of the spotlight hesitant nervous uncertain shrinking to the side melting as much as possible into peripheral vision so as to avoid attracting undue attention outside shell so fragile but protecting even more vulnerable internal realities separate compartments of the soul so private so easily bruised except one-- something makes a sound -whoosh- -a brushing tap- like wings beating from the inside of a box made of thin membrane something... --different new volatile shocking strange NEW behind me trailing like a shadow of the spirit when heads turn my eyes meet theirs boldly confidently amused smile-smirk twitching the corners of my mouth and i am laughing at the world stepping so self-assuredly, long strides relaxed, arms swinging wide, ready to embrace the mystery around the next corner i am-- well, it is not me not quite it is the shadow-self soul of that butterfly in that box beating its wings trying to break free out of the confines that i the real me in my fear have caged it in my timidity is my plainness my shield, my safety, my failsafe but the other me is (such a traitor makes things so difficult and yet--) bold beautiful strong and unafraid she is what that one friend, that one time, told her she told me i was and could be Remember? FEARLESS so hard to remember, to believe perhaps that is why i the other me exists; to be my other memory to be a vessel that contains the better parts of me to save, safeguard (suppose i run out?) until needed most --much to valuable to lose rock the boat later for now first prepare on the inside and inside stand tall as though standing on the highest peak of the world surveying everything, arms spread wide face uplifted solid strong forever immovable happy FEARLESS until she, that other me, is ready to step into my shoes and i am prepared to welcome her as myself. In the Void 7-22-06 staring into the silent void waiting reaching into the vacuum of everything watching the abyss carefully for some kind of sign what foolishness. what should it do, wave? fingers scraping the bottom of nothingness then suddenly in defeat brushing against curling around something warm vibrant alive a heart floating, lost, alone in the void Burning Bridges 7-22-06 ―I‘ll go from bad to worse and later back to better but I‘ll never better bridges that I‘m meant to burn‖ –Anna Nalick Standing in the rain smoking torch in one hand Hair plastered down, and wind whipping straight through my body facing the oncoming darkness thunder, muted, silent lightning form the backdrop of the battlefield silent, distant, too-orange fire tongues eating up the sky cracking, falling, caving in down under the fragile, fragile wood into the dark and silent rushing river waters bridges are burning in the heart of the night cold center of reality on the fuzzy edges of a dream an imagining uncertainty burning bridges the task which i have come to do watching the devouring flames of my heart burn away the fluff the framework into nothingness the last ties to what once was wondering, what should i be feeling and perhaps more urgently, what will i be feeling tomorrow when i wake up and if i will ever know the difference between the right and the wrong again and remembering standing on that same bridge in a different season when it looked so long so promising so inviting and remember trying to cross it again uncertain at first whether my feet still hung above the firmament held up by deceptively steady beams or trod on solid ground perhaps after all this is nothing more than the echo of a dream burning in the harsh daylight of an intruding external reality. you think? Remembering the Now 7-27-06 tracing thin shadow outlines on translucent paper empty inside face turned toward the non-drawing but seeing nothing save for echoes of memories blame and heartbreak rolled together into one burning searing brand throbbing ugly burn on the soul remedies sit to the side, useless and only old fantasies and new regrets fill the dark and silent empty hours forgiveness is the new lie all is fragile, transitory, pale live with the sweltering oppressive blanket of wrongs and failures or lose your soul to endure the unendurable is to be human (which is to make--unforgivable?--mistakes) and to love and to have loved and to have once been loved . To Begin With 7-27-06 words make a mess they go everywhere they say everything and nothing and what really matters is always lost in the jumble and to every different person a different meaning for every different word you would think that words could fix the messes they make why does the negative word pack so much more power than a single good one? and why on earth is it so impossible to fix things with words when you broke them with the wrong ones to begin with? Another piece of the puzzle 7-27-06 i miss you this regret is eating up my soul i have no heart left i gave it all to you how could i have tried to walk away when you still held it? and now though it is your turn to do what i could not and in fact be glad about it you have left it sitting there on the side of the road all alone my heart waiting for someone --for YOU-- to come along and pick it up again i have lost my way and it is dark and you no longer care. lucky, lucky you. Invisible Shadow 7-28-06 invisible shadow trailing behind me thin cloud of semi-substance like a cloak or a shroud dampening cover, feather light, crushing down, smothering, oppressive security, familiarity burden treasure ailment remedy i can see it sometimes translucent, hanging hesitantly like a tangible echo uncertain whether to form solidly or to let itself be blown away spread into thinnest nothingness as though it never was by the unknowing sighing winds and i wrap my hands in it still uncertain whether to wrap it closely about myself forever or to simply let go-- if i could, if first i could but detach from it my heart is the decision of no decision an answer after all? i must know before it forms so solidly around me or thins me into nonexistence with it last irony of entrance and exit of what may or may not have ever been there at all Blue 7-31-06 note: if I rewrote this and edited it, it might be quite good. i will paint the town blue the color of my sadness i will tint carefully all the different shades in the appropriate places in the park where we took those long walks the leaves of the trees will be frosty blue deep rich color on the edges each one almost tear-drop shaped and all the places we used to stop and eat are now that dark and lonely color of the underworld that is the sea the sky drips with streaks of painted on baby blue soft and sad and lonely small pale clouds will blend in with their background and the blue houses will huddle close together and the picture of memory freeze frame will hold forever the blue, blue color of those eyes as they looked into mine so long ago and that is the color that this living, beating heart will be painted as it wanders the empty streets so shaded in blue Grieve, and let your heart be broken 8-3-06 grieve, and let your heart be broken feel the sorrow in the deep of your veins tears diluting blood and the creeping tendrils of ice that are gently ensnaring your fragile, beating heart watch out from behind those eyes as the curtain gently closes and falling now all the stars raining down in sweeping arcs tears of the firmament grieve, and let sugar coated memories turn bitter in the afterthought turn a blind eye to the raging, lost storm erupting within close down quietly, shouting and feel the lost lonely angry ashamed thoughts circulating like poison in the void in the hollow center of the soul. Right and wrong (or, ―gray‖; or, ―another color-themed poem‖). see the grayness of the world all muted, dumb covered in the finest layer thinnest cover of a sad and burnished ash nothing clearly black or purely white any longer and still that ghost of snow falls from the sky did i ever really know? and could i ever really discern the deepening shadows from the pale light growing at the edges of the world every dawn? perhaps i only imagined seeing clearly the left path from the right and envisioned as in a fevered brain the consequences of those perilous paths could i ever have seen what now is so foggy, dim, unintelligible so far from easy black or reassuring white all muddled confused painful in the muzzy groggy world of gray and grayness and uncertainty? Undecided 8-3-06, 2:00 a.m. I am uncertain and I am lost I am confused and I am unknown I am sorry and I am unforgivable I am redemption and I am... that word I am I am I am not. Dreams 8-3-06 gray half-shapes of smoke floating in the air barely born almost-thought dreams twisting uncertainly in a world more solid than they (but only barely) looking around lost and slightly confused for the one who has so rudely brought them there and then walked away vanished as they shortly will be without any life threads sustaining and holding them and giving them reason to be they need love like any living thing are they not worthy of such a gift? or is the would-be giver incapable of giving? whoever the lie and whatever the liar all will be wiped away in the end and unless some trace of simply Have Been remains it all will have been and be for nothing and for no one after all Uncertain and Wondering, Once Again 8-3-06 gut wrench knee jerk reaction it has been so long is there something left in the heart or is this only the ghost of an old echo something ingrained, built in that means nothing and just... cannot be helped? and how will i ever learn to tell the difference or to trust myself my heart the quiet whisperings of my soul or of God if i cannot tell what is what and which is which? Used To (Reflections on a Burning Bridge) 8-4-06 11:35 p.m. i used to love you unreservedly and thought i was loving right i used to feel nothing but good things all the time for you about you around you because of you i used to believe in love in an ―us‖ i used to not remember what heartbreak felt like and i used to think you cared for me that way the way i felt for you i used to live for your smile and i used to think i understood i used to be so happy you used to take me by the hand and lead me when all seemed lost towards that distant rainbow i so often began to doubt even existed i used to think that's what you did i used to think our love was true and pure and whole and of course unbreakable i used to think that i was strong and could take on the world i used to think you would be there by my side and i would stand by yours i used to feel my heart leap and soaring butterflies of happiness in my stomach whenever you were near or even mentioned and i used to think you felt the same about me i used to think forever was a truth and i used to think even clichés about love had a purpose i used to but in the now in the here in the right this very minute the key word or phrase is so 'obviously' "used to" Please—This Has Gone TOO FAR—I Never Wanted This... 8-4-06 quickly now hurry grab a bucket of water a dampened rag a fire hose call upon the silent, cloudless, starry skies if you must but give me water GET ME WATER NOW direct it all at those flames can't you see them? flaming bow of orange branding the night stretching across that dark deep fearsome abyss feel the laughing heat eating up the fragile stretch of wood melting all those so-called unbreakable bolts holding that swaying construction together GET ME WATER NOW and douse that fire not this one not this one not this one why this one? i do not want this bridge to burn not this bridge to that shore that suddenly cold unfriendly shore not this bridge not now not when it's my fault not this one can't that fire be stopped? i do not want this bridge to burn. p l e a s e. Summer Day 8-7-06 the soaring spinning movement of the skies has caught my attention and my fancy dazzling my eyes with sapphire glowing reflections of all things existing in a not-so-solid fashion the real foundations of this world and the next no title. 8-10-06 unable to see past the blurring blinding tears in my heart i wonder why sometimes it is so so difficult and sometimes those fragile rare occasions confidence holds me straight my strength and protection and why more often it abandons me to these thoughts and these memories and the pain in my soul. no title 2.0 8-10-06 i do not want to be here i do not belong here something is wrong here let me out please you have no idea you cannot know and i could not begin to tell you you will not understand let me out let me out let me out no title 3.0 8-10-06 speaking through another's words feeling my heart surge with another's melody i have nothing left inside only that in me which can still resonate with another's empathy remembering once having it in me to feel for myself what now only the echo of a shadow's ghost can touch me that which others seem to originate to feel to understand to live so wonderfully so happily so fully in their own lives i am a mistake made of them unraveling like a bad punch line the cosmic joke in which i am merely a viewer and barely that undecided torn miserable, ripped open between the past the future and the might-have-beens and wondering which is which listening yearning to speak sometimes and laughing so "sarcastically" with pain too deep to hide entirely at the word F E A R L E S S . they do not understand would it help if i knew who "they" were more of the time? thoughts chase each other imprisoned too free to be caught vaguely indistinct hovering between the known and the painful "complicated" complicated complicated truths. Highly Unoriginal 8-10-06 what must we live with and what can we strive to change and although we can pray-- so earnestly so fervently knowing what we will/MUST know is all that hangs between us and the abyss-- "god grant me the wisdom to know the difference" they also say whoever THEY are some of God's 'greatest gifts' are unanswered prayers but maybe the other THEY is right after all--who knows?-- and all is already said and done and we are the poor fools who have not yet discovered the punch-line or in fact that the joke whatever it may be is on us no title 4.0 8-10-06 "if" but what "if" i can't? words are all fine and well but there comes a point when metaphors are no more useful than traces of colored smoke pretty but obscuring necessary unfortunate vision. Star 8-10-06 do stars ever die for real and for all finality or do the clouds merely give the impression of a dark lonely empty sky? those dark lonely vengeful clouds pitiful and awful all at once like the giant cold wallow of space threatening to enclose on the star from behind beset with such danger is it no wonder sometimes a star is afraid is confused becomes uncertain and tries to dim its light? but who who indeed can forgive a star who tries even once to deny what is and what really is and what really should be ? I Am (Midnight Rain Sings Wild Joy) 8-10-06 I AM and midnight rain sings wild joy and all the stars are pirouetting in place, dancing, with radiant smile-beams the universe, tense, taut, streams with tight unbounded wild energylightjoyspeakSOUND music streaming, tangible golden wrapping soft as silk perfection happiness sheer intense REJOICE the world is alive today you are in the world and the world is in you there is everything before you and all memories behind you are everything and nowhere, just watching and-- everything is I AM midnight rain sings wild joy and every blade of grass is in tune with the vast harmonics of creation the building bold growing brush strokes of the master painting as it is painted faster faster frenzy euphoric of finish, captured and finished forever all at once forever the hard core soul of that JOY whispershoutsingsurprisesmileso knowingly and everything IS and is I AM After the Falling Wetness Cleanses the Soul of the World 8-11-06 watch the sky smile see the tears dry up inhale deeply, breathe that undusty damply penetrating freshly undulating wonderfully vibrant enticing perfectly invigorating smell being and journeying everywhere alltimes at once the creating of creation blooming and dying the same living and watching both after the rain when the world is caught in the reflection of a tear shaped raindrop believing is exactly the same and yet so wonderfully different from being ALIVE Thoughts of the Moment (Incomprehensible Comprehension) 8-11-06 who can describe the beauty of the world? of the miracle of each breathe and heartbeat? (melting orange patterns slipping down d o w n the screen) relaxing for the most part head tilted back eyes closed dizzy spinning wonderment of fantasy --fantasia!-- and thought dreams of wild things and imperfect perfection and the totally comprehensible inscrutability of EVERYTHING spreading arms wide embracing the world knowing it will be won and it will conquer you / by you and pushing away all thoughts of fragility and breakable splashable messyendingable bubble d r e a m s All Shall Embrace the Smile God(dess) 8-11-06 if i could i would i'd speak in nothingbut strange and yet amusing and probably humorous okay perhaps only slightly poetry weird lines and meters and be it and love it and extol it and make fun of it allatonce!! see me now the studious brown bear peering over the edge of her book from behind those interestingly shaped spectacles and stare in wonderment no--gaze-- in awe as from all about all the shapes of thoughts born into the world appear and look back at you a little like watching the heavens smile down upon you with the grin of God is it not? laughter. endlesswords/endofwords turning journeying on . Because 8-11-06 Because tragedy is comedy And comedy is sad Because all the world‘s a liar And because we‘ve all been had Because we can speak in tongues And tell nothing but the truth Because I am the old And because I am a youth Because because because Reasons all around But they are no more solid Than the color of a sound And so I‘ll put my hand through paintings And laugh a song aloud And swim through dripping liquid words Alone in all the crowd Remember who I am? You‘ll forget me every time I am the soul of land and sea I am the windless chime I am the goddess of the skies The ruler of the stars The shadow of the living sun The child of a peaceful charge I wonder whom to speak to And I wonder what to say Because in the end because, because Is the echo of a night and day Reflected in a mirror large The truth stands tall where all can see But who would look to see it? Already they look straight through me. Just Thinking 8-12-06 searching for perfection looking wishing desperate seeking in every spare corner crevice and unlikely obvious space but having no luck unless somewhere buried deep within it is there hiding waiting only to be discovered the search goes on i am so tired will it should it ever be over? They Are The Ones To Blame 8-12-06 her anger boiled steam rising from the oceans hot red ugly slash of mind turning twisting in its cage metal bars grow hot and wooden locks smolder black at the edges like shiny gold paint peeling gruesomely away the gilded cage revealed for what it is the angry stars smite the ground in their fury from on high the world shakes in the gale blown and rocked side to side a toy in the vast sea of furious rising unimpeachable gathering growing WAVES and the black hand of doom smites the sword upon the anvil and the ringing chorus foreshadows the footsteps of death unstoppable tangible outlasting like greasy air the anger grows in continuous rolling clouds and the lightning prepares to illuminate and destruct and the final end outbreak lash is at hand You Can Stuff It 8-13-06 why do we keep trying? humiliating ourselves for no reason for whatever we think is --and now isn't this funny-- "worth it" what is worth losing our self respect sanity life? we only get the one and we waste it like we've got all the tomorrows in the world and nothing to ever worry about ever again how terribly STUPID oh, yes it's the WONDERMENT of the human condition sure why NOT but in the words of a very special homo sapient "you can stuff it" Makeshift Sail 8-13-06 because nobody cares not even you and because finally finally it is my turn to be angry because this is so RIDICULOUS and stupid and pointless and worthless and hopeless and-- everything THAT IS WHY I WILL SCREAM and use my tattered soul as the sail to catch the winds of this gale of anger and finally at last at long last GET OUT starved, thin perhaps i will be thin enough to fit between the bars of my floating abandoned lost alone gilded cage Crossing the Line 8-13-06 I AM ANGRY and i am not afraid who knows it I AM TIRED OF THIS AND I AM TIRED OF YOU and i am tired of you being tired of me and i want it to be over all the drama all the drama to be over and i am tired of words and being in the wrong and the groveling and the apologizing we are more than even now i have more than repaid my debt and if you want to HELP me fix this fragile fragile beautiful thing you'd better do it fast because there are some limits that once crossed i cannot cross again The Second Secret 8-13-06 i know the secret no, the other one about how to be drunk dizzy funnily euphorically sky high staggered with the enormity and incredibly zany twistings of LIFE they see me and they wonder what is wrong but it is only so many ironies because finally finally at long last despite all the odds or perhaps because of them? i am discovering not more wrongs but what but what but what is right i am spun about inside my mind by the fragility resiliency of the incredible dream-reality floating about me that i am swimming through a living star swooping ponderously dignifiedly incongruously childlikely through the swamps and sweeps and plateaus of the galactic milky way virtual chocolate of realness i am lost in a world all my own shared by everyone but seen by few alone but not forever twirling dancing spinning dipping fleeing fleeting flying grounded until at long last the next turn of the spiral comes and i am swept up caught up fraught now in the mix of opposites and sames where there are no words or colors or sounds or thoughts or feelings just the basic essence of essenceness of all that is the one great resounding forever never perfect beautiful insanely ginormous expanding I AM I Saw a Spotted Purple Sky 8-14-06 i wandered up to a tall tree today and saw a man sitting high in the branches riding the wind with all the confidence of a moonbeam chaser and he told me, calling down from his perch, that the birds are frightened and their flights are fleeting, and he asked me if i might know what was the matter i took a stroll by the sea tomorrow and saw a lady standing waist deep in the liquid diamond waters, hands on hips--puzzled at the fear of the fish, she told me yesterday i was at the edge of the earth overlooking the lip into what lay below but i forgot what i saw when someone called my name and i turned, and left with the snow i rode freewheeling glorious spring and in the sack of old lady summer, painted leaves with laughing autumn and nodded solemnly at sleeping life with distant, somber winter, and i smiled in my sleep and when i woke up i looked out the window and i felt in my heart that you were there with me and despite all the sadness that engulfs me now i feel the stirrings of a strange contentment the birds and the fishes may or may not ever flock together in the summer spring or fall but in the winter of the soul when the light is pale and dusty i know i will hear the call and again i will go out, climbing through the open window of my room and i will leave the bubble of my private universe, or at least, take it with me and i will travel through the traveling halls. Fearless FEARLESS NO FEAR Uh Oh. 8-19-06 please reassure me take my quaking heart in your hands and comfort me with your touch and you confidence and your love i am scared and i am wrong and i do not know what anymore to think i need you to hold you close and feel your arms about me cradling me shielding me from the world i run to you but how can i run from the other thing that terrifies me the depth of what is in fact drawing me to you? Tired. 8-18-06 Back in the sheltered places hidden from the world under shadows draped like a blanket wrapped, a sheltering cloak about the tenderness so needing protection tired, drained seeking only the quiet and the restful why must they always never ceasing forever coming chasing hunting down pursuing the fleeing aching soul of me? Another Awful Rhyming Scheme 8-21-06 I am so uncertain Of all I thought I knew If one wish only granted I wish I was with you You don't make it all alright You don't have every answer But with you I can forget And make a moment a forever You are comfort, you are doubt You I wrap my arms around And wonder when the world stops Where we will fall down When the first momentum ceases And despair is fairly called, Where the ends of tangled weavings Of all we did and saw? I am all alone now Looking for your face Please don‘t yet abandon me Not now, not in this place My heart is crying out for you And I am blinded don‘t you see No words now as I reach out Please reach back for me Do not let me stumble How can you let me fall Neither of us understands But I am waiting for your call I do not want your answers Your comfort or your tears Only love and your acceptance Then there is nothing I will fear Before and After 8-21-06 it was so unstoppable or so it seems so now as though the steady hand of fate had branded the skies with the burning seal turn my head hide my face blushing with heat of the closely creeping abyss black belly to swallow all a fire of rage in its pit standing, all alone in windswept desert of freezing sands, skies above roll darkly, blankly, roaring with muted, angry thunder whipping grains of doubt and fear in my face all alone, seeing, reaching out to half-imagined ghosts around me as they pass, oblivious what portal did i step through what gateway swallowed me up? was i not once one of them? or was that the dream-- and not this here-and-now? or was it they, who were so suddenly, rudely, painfully transmuted from smiling friendly names and faces into the pale, creeping shadows of their counterparts here in this never-world hereafter? Betrayed 8-21-06 I was wrong and that was the greatest betrayal of all I deceived myself and I was naive enough to believe my lies I was a fool for thinking what all others have thought I was wrong and it is true now, that for some people--things--times there are no second chances and for all of you you beautiful young stupid naive fools you are just like me only not and the agony is too unbearable to bear for long perhaps that is why tears and goodbye were invented after all. I'm sorry. Gooseberry Trees and Apricot Icing 8-21-06 when all the wild catfish hunters of the sky come bearing down on mountaintops they seek for the one who has gone away "He left yesterday," I reminded them, for the first time that afternight; But the jelly stars shook with gold and reddened laughter and I smiled upon those who could not see me and were too oblivious to care we always have to be before we can think and the great irony leash upon freewheeling run is how often we forget that amazingly enough don't you realize how we have not begun and yet are done? Remind me--or not. X Frankzilla Woman 8-21-06 I danced to the tune of gooseberry trees, and I laughed to the sound of apricot icing and I could never ever understand the trials of the skies But the feathers of the underwater mongrels were soft to the touch and if I could not forget at least for a time the universe cradled my head as I slept on my prickly bed of star souls I wanted to But I didn't get to Because I was lost And now every color is that mixed-up feeling you get when you forget the name of the song and the order of the meaning of words forgive me I intruded on the slumber of something which preferably would have preferred to sleep a little longer you see. (do you not?) Flight of the Easter Bunny 8-21-06 I thought I had forgotten the tune of the appleberry song but I was only unaware that it was singing me instead I stepped into the shadow of the future of the world but I forgot the bribe and password, and I was left behind, sitting on a suitcase that wasn't mine, unable to stop humming or make sense of the tune and afraid of spilling a single drop of the precious fragile liquid held in my cupped and outstretched hand blindfolded balancing act the reports coming in say each contestant is faring well do I believe them and feel failure or attempt to unbind my eyes and look? do I dare? Could you? Do not blame me or judge me I trust I do enough of that for both of us. Have We Met? 8-29-06 NEEDS WORK disillusioned? disheartened? uncertain? alone? misunderstood? bemused? crying through the falling scraping laughter? oh yes i know you i know you very well-- well enough to know i know you not at all i am unused to the sight of your face so long avoided but sometimes even insubstantial morphing frames of existence must pass in front of the cracked and dingy mirror ―Disillusioned and Bitter, the Teenager Recaps.‖ 8-29-06 when did numbness become the norm and when did the fear fade into weariness? and when did the crossing go from far away distant not here yet to yesterday? is it my own head that is spinning or is the universe spinning about me, stars of a dazed stick figure twirling about the ears, as in a cartoon, when recovering from a bad fall not to mention where is it exactly that has been crossed over to? i mean, really— what happened? Out of Proportion 8-29-06 the more i stared at the spot on the carpet the more it took up my whole vision all of my eyesight fixed on this one expanding terrifying stain threatening to swallow e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g it loomed up in front of me until i screamed at the monster destroying me but then i blinked and blushed deeply at the stares coming my way but i could not forget the shadow of that doom and often since it has haunted me flashed in the corner of my eyes and bared its teeth in my troubled dreams. Metaphorical Appropriate Title Goes Here 8-29-06 who can come through unscathed? reach through the burning flames unknowing or somehow protected by the incredible belief that everything --is going to be okay-- how on earth? where did my belief go? how did it escape me, liquid drops spilled from my hands to break into a thousand shards on the hot and gritty sidewalk blown away like dandelion seeds on the wind flown away a freedom seeking butterfly where and when and how and why does it matter? it is gone the same and now my burns shameful, prideful battle scars/ wounds of horror are glistening in this new light not quite yet dawning and this is yet another eternal moment. again. Ballad of the Last Sea Titan 8-30-06 Under the frothing cold sea waves The mighty prow is looming Twisted wreck of a wasting ship Left behind in new era‘s blooming But once the sea-titan ruled the deeps Commanding of grace and stately pride Not a ship, but a soul, of metal and fire Wielding its beauty on sea‘s smooth glide Boastful the captain and heady the crew Heedless of hubris, arrogant all Fate had doomed them, the sea decreed The first would be last, her towers would fall Out in the deep embrace of the night Seaworthy Babel-tower unveiled at last Unsuspecting, poor fools, victims of folly Helpless slept they beneath her grand mast Then out of the shrouds of unknown fate Mists of foolhardy certainty cleared Doom was sighted, out and ahead, But too distantly known to yet be feared Looming white tower of unknowable dread Driven by sure, unshakable Time The sea is a goddess jealous and swift With snow and ice she would claim her right It struck, hard and true, that blow of the gods Far too late, the shrill alarms rose Panic, torch of terror, burned brightly Driven by sea currents pounding ever below The salt and the cold of dark liquid fear Poured into the hearts of the doomed And the lucky, alone, clung to shreds of life Hope for the dawn by sea consumed The crack of the wood and the break of the bolt The groaning of strained, tortured steel Were screams of the soul, once so grand and proud That was forced to sink her keel Beautiful lady, lost to the depths Now withered by time as all must be Was not the least of loved ones lost The night the Titanic returned to the sea I Wanted a Piece of the Sky 7th grade sometime I wanted a piece of the sky, to hold in my hand and ponder the shining brilliance A piece of the sky to light up the world, drive away darkness, and bring hope to the people...a piece of the sky. I dreamed the impossible dream, that I could hold a star in my hand, touch its points, and keep it. I wanted a fragment of cloud to wave in the wind, like a banner, to wrap around me, to wear it like a scarf, a sash a thing of beauty. I wanted a handful of rings from some distant planet, to play with and twirl and whirl a belt of strange and wonderful color and texture. I dreamed the impossible dream... I wanted a piece of the sky. Song Power 12-8-01 Silver notes sing sweet and loud, trembling softly, like a word not quite spoken rests pause, allow the mind to reach out and touch the wonder of the rapid trills, tranquil notes breathe out, and lo, a song Anger 12-7-01 Bitter words drive the swords as poisoned arrows fly from bows, yelling, screaming, weeping hurt swoops down like a vengeful mother, licking wounds, brewing danger as anger consumes and plants seeds of disaster. Fear 12-7-01 Wolves howl, an eerie sound, shadows of my night of darkness, figures mumbling muted words, sounds melt into the dark light that shines down from moon above. Branches creaking, hearts beating, eyes watching, voices talking, icy coldness comes down from distance, oppression washes over, blanketing my muffled cries. Down 12-6-01 Down, Down in the depths, dark waters wash over my head. No air-- I am drowning. Blackness closes in, my throat constricts-- I am crying. Down. Down under the sun I swelter, too hot-- I am fainting Waves of heat wash Over me, waters above my head I am fainting, drowning, crying, Down. Gentle Rain 7th grade sometime gentle rain, splattering pattering dripping leaves, melting colors, blending sounds, gentle rain. The Night the Stars Fell From the Sky (Reflections on 9/11) -another middle school (7th grade) creation- That night the stars fell from the sky In sweeping arcs without a sound, like tears of acid, they rained down. That night the stars fell form the sky, endless torrents, rebuking the horrors, the night the stars fell from the sky. Down came they, in bright array, lightning streaks as bright as day, the night the stars fell from the sky. The night the stars fell from the sky The night that death went on parade, the night all people cried for aid, the night the stars fell from the sky That night the stars fell from the sky, showering downward, pounding, sounding, raining down like silver fire, the night the stars fell from the sky. The night the stars fell from the sky the heavens cried, boomed out their sorrow, as stars rained upon the buildings, broken bodies, attempted healings The night the stars fell from the sky, the Heavens cried, from on high, the night the stars fell from the sky. Ode to Cheese 9-3-06 ―Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.‖ –G.K.C. In between two slices of bread you find the meat of existence and all the trimmings deemed to make it worthy of consumption but and let's be honest how many of us ever bother to think of the cheese which adds much to the flavor but generally is left out or sadly unacknowledged? And so today, my dear friends, ladies and gentlebeings, take a moment or two-- and reflect upon the nature of that most noble of edible enterprises, the sandwich and its unsung hero- component, the cheese. Funny Tribute (written ‘04, I think, sometime) Here's to all the things That I can never say All the words that I Just can't admit today This is for all the times The wrong phrase came your way All the times I've wanted to Erase it; well, it starts today... With all the things I should have said Instead of keeping it inside Here's to all the things I'll never say Starting with the first time that I lied It may seem like a funny tribute But I bet you get the implication Even if you can't see what I should've said You can always use your imagination... It's a funny tribute, monument to my mistakes But also to the new beginnings Of what might've happened, a brighter morn Instead of just these nasty endings... So here's a funny tribute, to words messed up or no-- To all the ways it should've been--tribute to my word flow Sunrise (11-27-04. I think.) Choked, suffocating On swallowed rage Blinded, blinding Tears on my face Drowned, drowning In the blackness Shiver, shivering Cold nothingness Fighter, fighting Never done Rise, rising Comes the sun Shuddering, stopped Cold, alone Blessed relief A dark red stone. The Rose (11-23-04, I think.) There is a blossoming inside Unfolding of the smallest leaf The tenderest bud of the moment Uncurling from its sheath Conditions, perhaps, aren't perfect But maybe they'll never be right If every day it always rains Then grow in the dark ofthe night The kings of the anicent past, my love Look down from a diamond-filled sky The will protect and care for you You'll never have to wonder why But even roses have their thorns And so does this one, too A secret guilt, a hidden wrong Secreted away from view Yet half of life is growing roses The otehr, little harder it's learning how to pick them up Avoiding thorns and growing smarter There is a blossoming inside The tenderest age begins again Perfect, still, rose-petal white, Till it once more is stained by sin Night (11-20-04. I think.) The moon is a splinter In a star-hung sky A tiny rip In the fabric of time The sky is a drape Hung up by the stars The clouds are the places Where it sags, laden arms Full of all the wishes And all the far fetched dreams That seem to come with nighttime Nothing being as it seems Because it all feels magical But you know it's not It's only a covering Of daytime rot So much for the pure The just and the good So much for everything Being as it should I gave up the stars I'd give up the light But then all I'd have left Is the dark empty night. Frozen 9-13-06 I am afraid of these tears and how they want to fall I am afraid of you and what you might say I have been through the darkness, and I have seen the terror on the other side.. And I am afraid of it too And the darkness behind me I am needing But I will never be fulfilled and I wonder now how and why But the answer even if it exists means nothing Feeling 9-13-06 The accusation comes a burning brand of fire harsh whisper of pain amongst the shadows hypocrite ice of shame wedging deeper knife-point first into fragile mind uncertain trembling shadows with teeth liar forgotten alone abandoned running pain fear terror screaming screaming no sound no sound no heartbeat you failed what are you? no one, nothing— …them. laugh, dark, hair-raising it is right—oh god… is it right? there is nothing I Wonder (11-19-04, I think) I wonder What it's like to do The thing's I've never done Do you? I wonder at all The tempting sin The thing's I've shunned Until reality caved in I wonder If I am alone In all the things I wonder Or think I've known I wonder if you Really think you see Really understand All that I can be I wonder Why I feel A secondary character In my own life's movie reel I wonder At this strange rebirth Which has led my mind To the farthest ends of earth I wonder at all That I cannot share I wonder if all the world Is as temporary as this air I wonder Can you be this way? I wonder Am "I" the "me" I know, anyway? I wonder at you Who think you know it all And I question, When will you fall? I wonder Will I feel pity? I wonder, Am I ready? Adversity‘s sweet milk, philosophy (11-19-04, I think) Metaphysical cage Binds me in Locked into self-destruct mode Constraints of sin Phosphorescent bars Invisible to most of these, The strange inhabitants With stranger needs Crazy visitors to a zoo Animals wonder why Humans are on display Invisible tears fall from the sky A hundred questions A one-same answer? Who questions the one Who is the questioner? Anything is possible Until the dream ends So much for the world's Truly great men A truth of a lie Lie of truthfullness Again something ends In the winnowing blackness But we can't measure dark Without a reference Ironically, it's light, Whence comes the inference Get Out of My Way (11-18-04 I think) dripping stinging reaching slinking trickling reeking stinking words all yours all cold all open sores to fester out a leaf draws away falls from the sky a tiny fragment of the overall lie you a grotesque mismatch all the souls of those you've assimilated into the vast black trackless wasteland that is your lack of a soul of all the holes you've opened up in hearts think someone would finally get smart now I've had my say it's over, its done get out of my way Smiles in a Teardrop (11-10-04 I think) As you walk by So confident and strong My head turns on its own I move to the beat of your song I can't help but grin along When you flash that smile of yours But it leaves a sadness in my heart's core And I wonder what it'd be like to be yours If things had turned out a little differently If people really were all that they seemed Might've been better, maybe worse Maybe it was just a dream I dreamed I can't back out Yet I can't move along It shouldn't be this big a deal It's just that... I was wrong Wrong and disillusioned Gullible, a lot naive Maybe now I'll watch you as you're coming And maybe, just in time, I'll leave I'll smile, wave hello Then run right out the door Click it loud to cover up The sound of my breaking heart, so sore Perhaps I'll laugh and say a few more words But make my exit faster, too But don't think I'll stay gone for long-- Because my heart is still with you. Self-Deprecation of Feeling (11-8-04 I think) I can't watch you Keep my face turned away But I can feel your presence Inexorable as the day Your smell wafts over I want to turn and follow you Something inside me tightens The sky is no longer blue It darkens with your shadow The way you fill up my thoughts I turn, I run, I am afraid But with no reference point I'm lost I watch you as through a mist, Obscuring, darkening, hiding... It confuses and draws me in I'd say "no" but I'd be lying I watch you from across a barrier Of life, of love, beliefs and destiny I cannot tell you, wouldn't want to Can barely even let myself see When I wake up from this insanity From this dangerous infatuation In a clear moment of calm Will I hate myself for this deception? I can write and write And think I believe my ravings But it's only the outlet for a poison A disease, symptom of hateful lovings To live, to die what are these When what's in-between Is more and more centered around A secret, shameful dream? God is Sad Today 9-17-06 God is sad today leaves drip rain lush hills rolling slowly, heavily under the strain heaviness fills warm smell dapples of light playing shadows across the skin perception or truth? stopping, slowing, paused poised on the edge in between the beginning and end God is sad today what do we feel? Days 9-18-06 I hate sad days I hate Mondays I hate Tuesdays I hate bad days I hate Wednesdays I hate Thursdays I hate hard days I hate Fridays I hate Saturdays I hate Sundays I hate all days That are long days That are short days That are wrong days When-you're-mad days When-I'm-hurt days I hate those days Most of all, days When-you're-gone days And all those days, When-I'm-lost days Where-are-you? days Uncertain days When-you're-hurt days When-I'm-gone days Where-am-I days When-I'm-mad days Do-you-care days What-to-do days Lots-of-tears days Laughter-less days And other sad days. Shame 9-21-06 could loathing possibly consume me? perhaps this is the secret to the incinerating flames burn me from inside out let me go free me stop dragging me down drowning suffocating layer of lies and lies and the stench of hypocrisy fills my nostrils salt burns in the wounds under the skin waiting for a savior who will not come and they failed to teach me how to rescue myself Some Things Are Not Meant to be Shared 9-25-06 i am afraid oh yes i, am, terrified of what of well everything but most especially the darkness in the future the uncertainty in the black mist surrounding how can i know you are there if our hands do not meet what will happen when the distance closes in surrounding us separate spheres i know what will happen to me but what about you and us? Sonnet of Youth 9-26-06 (English [Shakespearean] Sonnet) I would that I might elude Death's first call And see once more the glory of the world As sky-supports, the mountains, oh how tall The road, a ribbon, at its feet so curled And oh, that I might travel once again And stand upon the edge of youth once more Where all of God's creation would begin Now to rebuild these sad, desolate shores The passion of the colors bright, and all Sweet smells of pine and incense freshly burnt Exerts on me its old and pow'rful call Think young again! --Sad lessons soon unlearnt Carefree and wild, fly deep in stars, clouds, sky Soaring feel of happiness--till ends life. Sonnet of Day 9-26-06 (Petrarchan [Italian] sonnet, cdecde ending) O glorious Day! Wind blowing in the boughs And all the sun a-shining fit to burst What then is left at all for which to thirst? Wondrous Day! Birds freewheeling in the clouds Can you not hear their joyous glorious sound? Hark! To whisp‘ring grass beneath our feet here And for a time aside put all your fear And sing the song of happy laughter loud I would that ne‘er should we forget this day! God‘s gift to wretched souls in much distress This joy is fleeting and, as all, must die What more, what less, could I contrive to say? To man is granted little happiness Thus we learn to laugh even as we cry Sonnet of Us (Petrarchan [Italian] cdcdcd ending) Remember when our love was new and strong? And when our laughter lasted us all day And never struggled for a thing to say? I was so sure that we could not go wrong— Wrong turns, we took, wand‘ring dark paths too long For our foolhardiness we now must pay Since sun turned dark upon that day in May And heavy silence drownéd out our song But, for the light you can not see the dark So hope may be renewed, for this is true; Even the smallest fire in a spark May light the distance now ‗tween me and you For despite all the roughness of its bark Anger can‘t dim true fire in love‘s own hue Sonnet of Small Beauty in Long Darkness 9-26-06 (Spenserian Sonnet) Remember when the world was young and new And all beauty never before was seen First flowers‘ first bud through damp soil pushed through And petals bloomed, the color of fresh cream Fragile, tiny, real it can hardly seem Perfection, thrill of God in soulless land This one, simple flower, a perfect being Beware, the hour of dark now near at hand! Take care of precious flower before it can! For in the days to come you all will need A little bit of joy in all your lives But do not let the darkness feed your greed A little taste of heav‘n is in your grasp Cherish the flower—remember lessons past Biopoem 9-27-06 (pseudonym) Sapphire Burning, freezing, speaking, sleeping Sibling of no one but myself Lover of laughter, chocolate, words, nature Who feels angry, ignored, alone, misunderstood Who needs affection, challenge, freedom, imagination Who gives love, sarcasm, herself Who fears abandonment, indecision, spiders, Hell Who would like to see snow, mountains, smiles, the world Resident of the future Erin Biopoem (9-27-06) (real name) LeighAnna Sparkling, scowling, sleeping, sweet Sibling of no one Lover of laughter, words, nature Who feels misunderstood, alone, mediocre Who needs affection, freedom, imagination Who gives love, companionship, herself Who fears indecision, spiders, abandonment Who would like to see mountains, smiles, the world Resident of LeighAnna Land Flagg Free Verse Poem 9-27-05 (from selected words) Wind-fingers furrow colors through the sky green, gold, brown Whispering leaves drifting down now Harvest the summer and autumn sings, rich mosaic Childhood/Adolescence Poem 9-27-06 They call it adolescence I call it a pain They say that it‘s all hormones I say they are insane They say these are the good times I‘ll remember all my years I say they‘ve never been to high school Or cried those teenage tears I‘ve heard, we are the future I‘ve heard, we‘ll ruin all But I‘m watching their mistakes And watching as they fall I‘m told to be responsible I‘m told to take the blame To act just like an adult— Without the treatment of the same I say they all are hypocrites And all they say are lies I say that we won‘t stand for this I say that we‘ll have better lives Yet a knowing comes on slowly, and Now I‘m sad to say I‘ve come To realize we‘ll act just like them When at last our turn‘s begun Brandon Limerick 9-27-06 I once knew an 80‘s fanatic Who was a red-headed classic He liked to slay fruitcakes (which gave me a headache) And hated all pickles from Vlasic Yelena Limerick Yelena plays awfully good tennis Against her nemesis Dennis But he turned into a seahorse And tried to write free verse Leaving Yelena the champion of tennis Lithp Limerick 9-27-06 I once at a piece of fish That caused me to lithp like thith I complained to the manager Who gave me a hamburger But failed to cure my lithp Story of my life 9-30-06 everything uncertain world whirling away agonizing hesitation nothing left to say breaking, falling, down run into the ground crushing weight of dread darkness up ahead confusion, panic, blame waiting, tears, disaster blackness swallowing souls world whirling faster running, under, over, doomed failing, far too soon unfairness, regret, pain blanketing, drowning shame Animal Sounds Limerick I once rode a horse named Minnie Who had a most annoying whinny But she swallowed a frog while out on a jog and now Minnie refuses to whinny Nightmare/Prediction 10-1-06 (could definitely use new title) new title: flash of insight Drowning in a sea of smoke the uncertain love is lost ill-fated to an early death knowing well the pain it costs Untimely choice of weakened will down darkened path it goes there comes a half-envisioned destiny of pain and fear yet to be known Hapless love! unlucky heart a bitter end you'll meet the dregs in love's own potion cup are nothing near to sweet NightDream 10-3-06 The shiny drops of dew upon the star light covered ground reflect in broken fragments all the echoes of a sound And all the moonlight pretty ribbons binding earth to sea to sky are the slender swaying figures dancing with me, myself and I And all the while the sound goes on a dream, a wish, memory, song following me, as my path goes along and I know that I can never go wrong The arms of graceful tender night hold me close as dearest love And sharp and wet the night smells come as sure as angels smile above And all the while the song is sung a pearl of joy from heaven flung threads of grace lower, heaven-hung ropes of sweetness that to me clung And the shiny drops of dew upon that star light covered ground melted slowly into yester-year and gently hushed the sound And all the moonlight pretty ribbons joyful dancers, they and I parted each our separate ways I to earth and they to sky Motion Sickness 10-5-06 rose petals falling soft shower of red tears eerie quiet look down from above and view the scattered splashes of anger in between obscuring red and white petals fallen feathers of sad angels blanketing the world in soft small toy globe in the palm of my hand spinning gently to the gravity, pull of the void so easy to drop you to close my fingers and crush you a rose petal an angel's tear drop brushes my face i blink i look up and time for one moment of peace in this shredding storm of quiet pauses It‘s Coming 10-5-06 aching power of tears choking on sobs fever racking anguish shaking endless tears shame regret fear anger blinded still, in minds eye, watching you watch me anger reducing me to cinders sizzling with the dropping, welling tears Reflecting on Reflections 10-5-06 Mirror mirror on the wall who will be the first to fall? Mirror mirror in front of me tell me what it is you see (Mirror mirror in you i see nothing, no one resembling me) Anchor 3-10-06 trees swaying, gently close your eyes, tightly feel the heart break softly now, the shatter as the cool wind mingles faintly with slow tears the moon's light is now a soft caress, but so very far and distant lean back, against the fence feel the rough solidness of the post against you the night is transient the stars, mere echoes but here and now there is the fence post curl your fingers and feel the nails against the palm this too is solid, here, real the anchor that will hold you as all flows, liquid, ethereal about you--and though all will fade and go this sure thing is your anchor to hold you, safe, fast Wordsmith 3-10-06 Wordsmith crafting, tinkering hear the chink, chink of the words against one another hammered out in the heart fiery furnace, cold anvil of the depths of the mind working long never ceasing testing sounds, rhythms patterns, rhyme, structure listening for soundness and replacing with conscientious ease one weak chain with better, stronger fibers Wordsmith, smithing hear the faint tinkle-tink of delicate accents and the hefty bumps of substantial sentences small parts, each alone but the smith knows the secret Listen for the almost silent breathless sound of satisfaction as, quite suddenly, linked up, the pieces slide into place, gently click stand back and view it completed, whole before your eyes, the poem brought to life The Living Poem 3-10-06 "Hear me" you think you heard it but can't believe your mind Eyes watching you from the page feel the vibrancy small subtle pulse flicker of blue life-force crackling down the page leaping, word to word inhale and breathe it faint hinted at breath of air from distant lands feel the excitement rushing, building, dizzying thrill to the familiarity and the, at first, unfamiliar but cradle the page carefully be gentle, yet firm precious, irreplaceable, fragile know what it means the life of a poem Prison of Windows 3-13-06 Sunlight filters in the soft deep sweetness of spring is breathed in, slowly the light is savored breezes blow gently almost hesitantly caressing the watching face, wistfully And a hand reaches out to hold the world to feel its realness and be reassured but it is stopped, suddenly cruel transparent solidness barrier, blocking, not enclosing the imprisoned in their void but the world they cannot touch like glass the wall refracts the sunlight in its prisms glowing on the scene thrown in tired eyes, blinding mocking with the very sweetness the prisoner craves thin membrane but impenetrable forever captivating perfection keep it pure and unattainable Moment Standing Still 3-13-06 Tree framed against the sky old winding branches tipped with budding green pink purple yellow darkness sunrise colors streak the background living canvas for nature's art sculpture, painting all in one temporary moment renewed, same, different revitalized each day existing only for itself and, thinks the watcher, for me Foreshadowing 3-13-06 chaos, barely concealed careful conscientious placing of the lid over the boiling pot deep grooves, memory of scars lurking, old, pain burning attempts at bridges across the immeasurable gulf the abyss is not to be breached except unless by flying but all the wings are burning smoke rises to the sky ashes blow, blinding dead air is heavy oppressive cold-heat the darkness moves growling, watching, waiting the abyss grows and the anger boils consuming and the stench of failure overpowers overwhelms smothering and the fury takes flight Imitation 4-24-06 imitation pretending hard visible effort to conform until one day it outshines the real and stupefied it finds itself mistaken for that which it only pretended to be and never really wanted to be like in the first place while the real fades away, slowly does it matter? if no one but the imitation itself can tell the difference? Rant (date uncertain. Probably March ‘06, after the 13th sometime) i am fed up with the nonsense saturating all our lives i am angry with the cretins who pretend they are in charge and i can only close my eyes wanting it to disappear remove myself from this stranglehold for right now, everything is clear but you can't see it, can you you close your eyes in desperation small-minded, ignorant, weak, afraid can't you face your own reflection? do it--or admit you can't i see the crack in your pretense the one you act like isn't there this time you have left no defense you sound hollow and ring false empty echo masquerading pitiful excuse for the human condition sad excuse for a rational, thinking being don't you know what you are? or are you so far gone you don't if there even is a you anymore? and who am i talking to? i am all by myself, under this dark sky with only the shadows and the mirrors waiting for empty echoes to reply Moira Speaks 5-18-06 (original) I‘m tired of giving in I‘m sick of giving up I‘m fed up with orders I‘m disgusted with the lot of you I will refuse to be bought I will refuse to back down I will refuse to submit I am better than this And you You will try to break me I won‘t let you in You will make my life a hell But I govern my world We are each of us separate Isolated, alone, individual My laws are mine, not yours And yours hold no power over me I will not let you assume the role Of judge of my existence Mock me, curse me, try to matter You will not come close I do not need your reasons Your justifications, your lies I am self-sufficient And you are a parasite I do not believe in you The impossible, or your ‗power‘ I will take no more of your bullshit This is it It is over It is done I am MOIRA and I WILL BE HEARD you will listen or. you. will. fall. Slow Poison 10-16-06 slow poison rotting away inside out didn't you try to release it once? dripping, oozing, polluted ruining everything smoke inside bursting through the cracks in-between glass windows and frames pretense is so wearying weighted armor of lies and lies past failures, coming to haunt now oh yes, you remember thinking you could escape you could get rid of it you are in torment held in place straining against yearning to be done with this but no answer presents itself no solution to the riddle dripping rusted faucet one drop at a time drowning paralyzed victims over eons of agony All I Want 10-17-06 All I want is happiness to gather it to me and wrap it round my shoulders a cape of warm breeze off the sea All I want is endless love and your sweet devotion too fountains of affection from the one i love, from you All I want is reassurance you have not forgotten me Am I still the one you really want despite these others that you see? All I want is just a moment each day of your time It hurts to feel we're far apart like you're no longer really mine All I want is you, and yet you seem happy far away My soul is starved, and heart laid bare but it doesn't seem to matter what I say All I want is everything I thought was s‘posed to be All I want is everything that I need you to be All I want is in the past What I thought we had back then But now the breeze come off the sea is a cold and wailing wind A Lesson 10-19-06 a lesson in self control a lesson in confusion a lesson in dark misery a lesson in oblivion a lesson in unhappiness a lesson in depression a lesson in soul-despair a lesson in confession a lesson in confusion a lesson in forgiveness a lesson in obsession a lesson in obtuseness a lesson in screaming frustration a lesson in abject humiliation a lesson in all your deepest fears a lesson in the art of "love", my dear Urgent Call to Action 10-23-06 How can I reach you? What can I say? To make you care? To show you the way? Look around! This world is large And beautiful and deep Don't you want to keep it? Pristine, gorgeous, pure but how can you ignore another's pain? in the midst of all this wandering beauty? How can you ignore the dark murderous shape of cloud and demon-breath hovering at the edge of the horizon, drawing closer yet? Believe me, when I say, I want you to understand-- some things some things you have to lend a hand and some things some things are worth taking a stand for. Who will die because you turned away? Who will pay the price for your self-inflicted blindness? And who will you blame when only you are left standing in the ashy dust of the dawn at the end of everything? ain‘t it grand (welcome to LeighAnna Land) 10-28-06 rainbows, pretty rainbows, playing follow the leader on the ground rainbows, sparkling rainbows, humming with vibrant color-sound dark pools beneath, open heavens above dark firmament forming here under over beside you inside you and out wipe away that tear rainbows, pretty rainbows, braided into my sister's hair sister-me, sister-her, sister-be in the mirrored winding stair rainbows, pretty rainbows, curving like a bow of fitted arrow-doom crying "faulty!" crying "no!"' singing through Fate's weaving loom halting on a silver point tip of a star shining bright losing pattern rhythm sound taking fraudulent advice rainbows, pretty rainbows, dripping liquid colored tears down there splashing into crayon puddles like anybody cared rainbows, pretty rainbows, formed by muck but ahhhed and ooohed as all the awe-struck masses stand in the shadow of you Sir Edward Three 10-31-06 Sir Edward Three had hair of green and a pocket full of fishes He wore a hat of cuckoos nest and hated doing dishes Sir Edward Three a worthy thief had yet good intentions But he was bored and did deplore normal methods of invention Sir Edward Three Sir Edward Three A sorry lot has he! To go through life With constant strife For a silly name hath he! Sir Edward Three, Sir Edward Three, a name that does cause laughter! Sir Edward Three, Sir Edward Three, A grave and laughing matter. Real and Unreal (School Contemplations) 11-1-06 children wait, in crowded clusters and the breathless hallways anticipate them boastful and bragging and full of the blind arrogance of confident youth, so unknowingly innocent in their miniature, play-pretend world, they answer to no one; but then a bell rings, clanging orders dictated by time and tired, older faces, and, good little sheep, they bustle off unaware of paradox and even the humor of irony melts away, into smiling corridors, so full of presences now-- they will be sad and empty and quiet tonight. I Offer an Ode to Napping 11-1-06 I offer an Ode to Naps A hymn of joyful praise To the times of day our pillows Are where our heads may lay I proclaim the glee of snoozing Of lazily rolling over in bed And mock-contemplating the work We should be completing instead I smile the ease of leisure And stretch, dropping problems away An oasis of calm civilization In the midst of a barbaric workday I laugh the thrill of stolen moments Small dozes to spite the work schedule A nap a day, a nap as needed Take lots, no need to be careful I drop off to the sound of tick-tock As my short power nap begins But the peace of my heart is in knowing On waking, it‘s nap time again. Dancing Alone, Eyes Closed, Mirrors and Stars and Velvet Nothing 11-1-06 in the perfect silence stillness aloneness: dancing;smile Cheshire grin spreading, smooth molasses, butter slow ear to ear ecstasy of pausing moment Breathe raise arms, release float flutter twirl spin slow joy fast restrain testing teasing joyful spring up out around about closing eyes swaying sleepdreamsdeeplivinglive soul-heart-eyes-open SPEAK reaching out and in held and free Speak t h e silenc e. blinking cursor 11-1-06 (I speak <br> and the silence listens <br> and all the lavender sundrops <br> go laughing hand in hand <br> down the dim an darkened hallway) Tennis Shoes 11-1-06 they are black and white and a little grimy "well loved" bits of the sole have torn off by the dusty a-little-muddy toes and the left one squeaks inexplicably when heel meets cushion meets shiny smooth tile floor (carpet is an excellent muffler) shoestrings loose, bunch in a tight knot cord to the left of the tongue--sticking up and out, crookedly favorite companions trusted gear for the long and dangerous and fascinating trek ―Everywoman‘s Story‖ 11-4-06 He told me that he loved me He told me that he cared He said he‘d always listen That he‘d always be there Wise fool, I fell into the trap Believing I was tough I thought that I was being careful But I wasn‘t smart enough Once upon a time there was a prince Charming through and through A child still in love with story-world I confused that prince with you It was my year of happiness It was my month of joy It was my week of purest bliss My day with a perfect boy But even storybooks have their end And saddest truth it is— Not with time, as with pages Can you turn back, relive, anew begin All pretense now is stripped away And here at rainbow‘s end My pot of gold has turned to dust— I must face drear reality again. ―Oh, Please‖ (Annoyance) 11-4-06 Don't tell me it's a sunshine-y day Please--some respect for the dying Don't tempt me with games and food and friends Please--leave me alone with my crying Don't offer me a blissful afternoon filled with love Please--you know MY love is gone Don't ask me why I hide here, under this rock Please--this crushing absence stills my song Don't remind me I am a whole person, and not a half Please--it doesn't feel like that, you know too... Don't assume I'm just a drama queen, for God's sake Oh, PLEASE--stop trying. you know what I'm going through. let me grieve while I am still able while the wound is fresh and tears still bring the blessed, sweet relief of release. ―Perforated‖ 11-4-06 I tap out the rhythm on the marble-whorled table stat-stat-staccato Morse code of the heart --breaking heart-- a beat for every tearing sound split neatly down the middle perforated pre-fabricated puncture wounds from previous tearings and other failed loves, imperfectly healed. but contrary to popular opinion although the bleeding is less each successive time the pain becomes deeper and much, much worse. ―But‖ 11-4-06 I want to remember stories and stars and-- and grass and trees and laughter and - and spring and peace and euphoria and - and that first sky-diving adrenaline bounteous headrush and- and- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - but But weary soul, trapped between rib cage and lungs and weary flesh stares only into my heart welling with each pump – pump – pump blood, dark blood, blood ink-stained with the poison of your words, and - - and the sight is entropy and all consuming. Flying Lessons 6-14-06 (see transition page, lol) Flying Lessons (me, unadorned) (what I am) (offering) (all I have to offer) (the both of us) (life) #s 11-6-06 13 days 1 and 3 99 words 1 new case 1/2 a heart 3 friends 5 books 4 trends 15 days more 2 stores 4 pies too many lies I Do, You Do, When in Love 11-6-06 When I love, When I am in love with someone, I want To be with them To hear the sound of their voice Feel their body pressed Against mine But This Is this what you do, This, is it really what you do To those you, Once upon a time, professed To love, To be in love with? Badly Written Poem to Make a Point 11-6-06 Pity the inept student! Who struggles so hard to learn But talentless at controlling knowledge‘s fire Again and again she is burned Again yet her passion is great! Her fervor undeniable Pity the hopeless wannabe Her position so very deplorable Her only wish, to be a poet But the world is complicatedly large And how hearts break to know she will Never find her lucky stars She tries, and yet she fails Is this not the worstest fate? But perhaps I am biased, you see— I pity my ownself most, of late. The Ringing Silence 11-6-06 you forgot me in the dust of your dark nightfall but when the dark and furious clouds obscured my vision all i could do was reach for you. you forgot me. but i will remember you. your silence will ring in my ears for many years to come. By Any Other Name 11-2-06 Identities, lost and discarded petals fallen from a flower overhead, lumps of clouds the rumpled rugs on God's glass floor cast pools of shadow on each disowned, separate leaf A thousand disguises each worn, for a time, with pride joy in harsh daylight, comfort in the night each it, each not— —reach— Straining to catch the last breath of wind, the flower casts aside all hesitations and pretensions and, in catching, is caught and gentle, firm wind-fingers undress the last. naked, alone, waiting to see to be seen— night falls. Little Girl 11-8-06 Little girl doesn't want to play with dolls Little girl watching brother enviously Little girl frowning in frilly pinkness Little girl throwing Barbie down the stairs Little girl angry hurt welling up inside Little girl pouting in her room, time out Little girl glaring at the pretty princess posters Little girl crossing arms, eyes narrowed, feet planted wide apart Little girl staring out the window boldly Little girl will take on the world Little girl will take on the world, on her terms Little girl will not stay in her pretty pink plastic cage Little girl will not be a fragile stiff china doll with painted face Little girl wants to be a Woman someday. I DEDICATE THIS (Rant 2) 11-8-06 (pre-poem comment): I dedicate this to every woman who has ever had a broken heart, who has ever been confused and mixed up and made bad decisions, who has ever been lied to and jaded and spurned and scorned, to every woman who gave her all and got nothing in return, to every woman who was strong and independent and confident but who had that fatal weakness that caused her to fall, to every woman who has been to the end of love and hate, of self and of him, who has seen the similarities and differences of those two, to every woman who felt it and couldn't say it, to every woman who did say it, before me and better than me--I acknowledge my debt to them, and I dedicate this to every woman who reads this and understands, who came before, and who will come after. God save us all. I am pretentious and pathetic, but I am also what someone said I am, once upon a time, even if I can't and don't believe it right now, and because I am fed up with all the bullshit, I DEDICATE THIS. talking fast and furious laughing way too loud latching on to passing friends a tear is coming down brush away, ignore, desperate now the pain is growing harsh must find a way to deter this to keep up this fragile farce feeling that you're watching hating this and hating you knowing too that you aren't there and hating me and loving you struggle, inner, crushing screw eyes shut in shame feeling dead and lost inside just thinking of your name and this is only the beginning where do we go from here? where do we stand? what are we now? what is it that i really fear? you anger me, slow burning hate despise you, loathing, and yet not what pain is this, and why is it? how can i choose of have, have not? i want to scream and cry at you and yet would do no good you do not care, you never did never acted like you should is it over? is it not? stop toying now with this my heart i hate your lies i hate your games i hate your petty claims to fame i hate your silence hate your words hate your low and spiteful slurs detest your name and memory detest your face each time i see you've gone too far and pushed me now for the last time this i avow i will stand strong i am resolved you won't get away with this i hope you drown in your own shit you've emptied and you've ruined me but i cannot, will not, let you see run away, again, again never once to love again? lost in my own shame and loss the war is over, done and fought but some things i just can't let go and of all things i'd have you know remember once you loved me true or did you?—i can never tell with you mistakes were made and lies were told i gave my heart, you stole my soul and what brought me this in return? nothing, no one, no kind words 11-9-06 ―Self-conscious- in a world of beauties/ beautiful world‖ It don't come natural, It don't come with ease I hate watching you It's me I need to please… Foreign tools of a strange culture, feeling stupid childish immature not good enough you've taken my pity and my self respect With those looks and those charms you do it, you do it best This isn't my world, These aren't my dreams you are perfection I am ragged at the seams But where does leave me? Uncertain and stumbling Who's me, if it's not you why can't your remedies work for me too? I am alone, lost and confused Trying not to let the tears come fast standing under the haunting pale yellow light in the store, terrified, i am Loose, a jiggling screw, unbalanced in an otherwise perfect--realistic--oh so convincing automaton that gives every impression of belying the stereotype(s) How can I even begin to dare to dream of comparing? Competing? As if. I am not good enough. I have failed the test. (Again.) You Remind Me 11-10-06 you remind me why muffins are deadly projectiles and why love songs are sad. you remind me why i love(d) the fall. Love 11-11-06 It is just the field. Why does it look so singingly beautiful today? It is just the field. It is just the old, scummy pond-- nothing special. So why does my heart leap and greet it like an old friend? It is just the pond. It is just the sky. It is the same broad, blue sky as yesterday and yet somehow it is warm and welcoming like a laughing blue-shawled mother hugging her children It is just the sky. It is just the city noisy and smoggy and glaring and tall and wide so why does it look so full of opportunity? and feel so full of a strange all encompassing friendliness? It is just the city. It is just the old highway dull and gray and empty So why does the curve look like a smile and the birds circling above like guardian angels, instead of vultures? It is just the highway. It is just the field. Why does it look so growlingly menacing today? It is just the field. It is just the old, scummy pond-- nothing special. So why does it look so lonely and angry like it could swallow me up and spit me out? It is just the sky. Just like yesterday. But today the blueness is cold and hard- edged and scowling, and even the sunlight is hollow and empty. It is just the city. The same noise and smog and buildings as the day before. Then why must it intimidate me so, scowling down, with terrible surety and uncaring reflective eyes of the tall and darkly looming buildings making me young and afraid again? It is just the city. It is just the old highway and that curve is still the same. But now it is a frown, a trembling of the lips and the cawing birds are waiting for the moment of opportunity to swoop down and eat out my shriveled, stabbed-up, trembling heart. It is just the highway. Sweet Requiem 11-13-06 it was a lie one big ridiculous illusion, just some stupid fragile dream and it melted away like cotton candy, on wet young eager tongues, greedy with the first warm true cream summer day. followed by a bitter aftertaste; empty. dreams shatter into bubbles. vision-distorting, faceted, spherical, soapy bubbles. one clouded my vision, and i convinced-- perhaps you saw it too perhaps it was my careful hands, too intent on protecting and shielding; perhaps it was your sharp, careless glance (away) but like children blowing too hard through the pink plastic flimsy bubblemaker, the vision expired, bursting. and, left sticky and cross, with soap in our eyes, the game ruined, we left for home, at the end of the day down separate streets, parting ways to different lives. I Don‘t Love You Anymore (I think), but is that all that‘s changed? 11-14-06 Is it okay that you're gone? Is it right? I was happy, now I am sad a little lost But this time you really don't love me anymore Which part was the mistake? I wish I knew Maybe that would make it easier Is it just the emptiness? Or the permanent absence of you that bothers me? I wish I knew. Somewhere along the way I lost it and it all fell down. You are culpable. For this too. But will the universe prove fair or foul in justice? Trying (to come to grips) 11-14-06 Part One - Fragile My fragile paper frame with great greedy hulking shadow is wavering, trembling in the breeze Is the shadow my anchor or the abyss that is the mouth of the beast? Part Two - Beast Its teeth are long spears of loneliness and hurt and blame Its tongue, forked, flicks with fire of guilt and loss And in the darkness of the hollow of its throat, the abyss is couched. I stare. And something stares back. Part Three - Realization Who knows what is, or was, or maybe shall be or could-have-been Is the answer that emptiness you promised long ago? I do not know--and probably never will. Forget. Part Four - Coming To I have been staring, drifting into dirty smudged spaces between molecules (glazed over eyes, idle hands) for far too long. And Everything Becomes a Poem 11-14-06 I know it takes time I am being so logical, this time around so smart i know it takes time (but the days are so long) and everything becomes a poem. Badly written, of course. I read that book; parts of it. I know I am the student who only "half feels" and doesn't understand the art; it's not a style, but a manner of doing. Even in my poems I paraphrase (again). And the inscrutability is terrible and dashes all hopes of professionalism, for who but me excluding even a future (undoubtedly bewildered) me would understand? the moment and the context and in the influences and the pain and the lonely, lost, love. and the un-pain, too, can't forget--but for that i have even less words. i'm so sick of it all, at times, some grand suffering--nonsense. bull. "ridikkulus" i shouldn't share this but i will. can i help it? i cannot decide between one set of words and another. it all falls down. Where I Come From 11-14-06 I am a tree and while I may not look so very different from other green leafy tops swaying in the breeze, I am, because I have the Ozarks in my roots; spreading dark fields of soil and deep hungry cool water aquifers, stringed instruments and old-time singing. And before that, silent feet, and an ancient way of life. Always there throughout, are old-beyond-time weathered mountains of trees and hollers, not to mention, there are always, the echoes of laughter from front porches, now and back then. The steady courage and patience of solemn explorers and their strong, laugh-ready women, are in the shine of my leaves, the health of my bark, past and future fusing together into one soul. And that feeling you get, in true fall Thanksgiving, family surrounding, that nutmeg smell is in my core. Often buried, it is true, beneath broad skies and one-same, different-shaped, clouds of puffy white, all from that same different source of standardized sunlight; But underneath, within, quiet and powerful, where even I rarely think to look, the Ozarks sleep. that was before, this is now 11-14-06 (―sequel‖ poem to Undecided) I am determined and I am fierce I am sure and I am bold I am proud and I am not to blame I am damned and I am... redeemed. I am not... I am not... I am not... FORGET THE NOT. I am, a ME, and I WILL BE. Double-Edged Sword 11-17-06 I remember contentment I remember security, warm-fuzzies I remember love, companionship, happiness I remember hurt I remember anger, hurtful words I remember pain, loneliness, misery Beware the follies of remembering one thing and not the other; love is more fickle than fortune more cruel than war Love is a charming soul-killer a gilded cage sunshine and happiness to romanticize the past, is to destroy the labor-agony of your soul, as it transformed the crucible into the instrument of your re- birth. Maybe someday. 11-17-06 Will I heal? Will the red, livid lashes of a love fallen from grace, burning as it entered the atmosphere of despair, ever heal? Maybe someday. Will I forget? Will the surprises of memory, wistful and painful and sad, overturned so suddenly in the day, unexpected heart-stopping momentary flashbacks, ever stop? Maybe someday. Will I be happy? Will the comfort, settling, spreading bliss of contentment ever again fill my lungs, cradle my heart, in soft and gentle hands? Maybe someday. Will I grow? Will the lashing horror of this crushing failure send me back, a solemn and wide-eyed child, or will I emerge brighter, stronger, whole, healthy? Maybe someday. Will I move on? Will the heart ever trust again, or the pebbles of memory ever become matter-of-fact, or the grainy exhaustion metamorphose into a renewal of spirit? Maybe someday. Will I be? Will purity and innocence come again? The dark shadows ever leave the weighted soul? Will pain cease to be permanent, a proper, fitting RIGHTNESS be found, justice be done, closure come, to me? Will I be free? (heart-stops-pause---) No? (exhale-cast-eyes-down-but-wait---) Maybe someday. Sing Me a Lullaby 11-17-06 Oh, mother, comfort me The winds of rage have blown my heart bare Oh, mother, comfort me The silence of the night is loud Oh, mother, sing me a lullaby Sing of peace and days gone by Oh, mother, sing me love Sing of comfort and friendly skies Oh, mother, hold me tight I am flown to many pieces, ragged at heart Oh, mother, hold me tight My soul is sick with burdens Oh, mother, sing me a lullaby Tell me everything will be all right Oh, mother, sing me understanding Tell me there's no reason to feel such fright Oh, mother, love me still The soreness in my heart yearns to heal Oh, mother, love me still The weary tears are falling Oh, mother, sing me a lullaby Sing me a song for the broken-hearted Oh, mother, sing me a lullaby Sing me the letting-go of love departed The Chiding Admonishment 11-17-06 (self-reprimand after a long stay in the purgatory of heartbreak) Step outside your own head and look around! Has the world ended? Towers fallen? Civilization collapsed? Armageddon happened? No? THEN WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING? You act as though your life is over and yet you walk talk breathe! You are a blind music lover who claims because she can no longer see the notes, there is no sound! Become whole again by living your life instead of using your life to wallow and sorrow and bemoan your fate A slammed door keeps out foes and friends alike. Untitled 11-17-06 i do not know what i miss but i know this is heartbreak it was bad but this is bad too. yes. so is this. is it a better bad? but now the seed of doubt is planted. was everything a lie? all i wanted was the truth. i am tired of being left behind. what did i really do so wrong? is this right? why must it be this way? i never understood before. do i wish i still didn't? this is not poetry and i am no poet Sun rise on the loser, still at the battlefield, still among the dead 11-25-06 The exquisite pain within my ribs burns with the frozen tinglings of delicate bone-thin fingers of dread, softly stroking, and the dread morphs into shame, regret-- burning pinnacle of a soul, fiery head of the sun, long sweeping blood-deep-red locks falling, cascading, in swirls and straight limp downpours onto the shoulders of the world burns me, red pools of light, red vision dripping through my fingers, sticky and sweet-- and the icy fortress of my pain, holding everything inside, laughs, for the reddened vision does nothing to melt or warm, merely paints the prison in colors of a firebird pretty to look at, dangerous to touch and, locked away--irredeemable? utterly, utterly, useless. Wish I May, Wish I Might 11-29-06 i want hair the color of music and a smile as deep as the sea a charming, mysterious posture to turn every eye on me i want a voice like thunder and eyes like grey of rain a wit as quick as lightning this would ease my pain i want a world of lightness a hammock made of stars i want the peace of knowing i am where you are i want the gift of telling and of knowing what i tell and what is in my future that might ease the pain of hell i want a song of souls a life of heartbeat truth the wisdom of a growing old but not the pain of leaving youth what i want i cannot name no more than stones can speak and yet the rocks are wondrous loud here on this lowly, lonely peak you are. 11-29-06 how can i say what you mean to me you annoying, crude, ridiculous caring, amazing, supportive maybe we will always need each other. i hope so. what would i do without you? who would i yell and be cross at and hug and cry to later when you guess what's really going on or i finally give in and tell you years from now, as i remember the pain, this will come too the way you held me and promised not to let go it was never like i thought it would be isn‘t now, but for once i almost had it it was almost perfect, and now all i must do is wait until the pain recedes a little more and the memory then can be sunk into like its escape when it was new and the bitterness will be lost to the sweet. driving, storm, music, friend 11-29-06 driving, storm, music, friend such are the memories i don't want to end head on your lap, fingers in my hair eyes closed, time is mine these are the memories i don't want to leave behind smiling, peace, first time all week lightning flashes through thin eyelids i don't want this to end but it will be sweeter for brevity and there is always of course tomorrow the wide world does not separate us yet i want to hold on to this i do not want to forget driving, storm, music, friend who am i? 11-30-06 edited title: who am i to who am i to say i cannot succeed? who am i to deny the beautiful flowering of an opportunity? who am i to second guess? and who am i to be forever always completely denying the ineffable? the inevitable? the truth? stop lying to yourself. who are you to deny the light shining in your soul? the soul. 11-30-06 the soul is a thin white sheet covering draped over the hard essence of being, and from deep within, a light shines out, pure and hard-edged and brilliant, fierce and unstoppably beautiful true to muddy the body with disaster is to close the window against the light purify, become again the clean transparent substance through which your better self will shine. that is the only way to live. i write poetry when i get bored 12-1-06 i write poetry when i get bored or at least a semblance of i like to watch the clouds go by finger puppets from above i know it's not as good as some and i know i'm talentless but as you can see i'm having fun-- apologies; i digress. where have all the sitcoms gone? 12-1-06 (on the deplorable state of television today) where have all the sitcoms gone and all the classic puns? where are all the characters stars that shone like rising suns? they've disappeared into the land of public memory and now i'm said because i know there are no more of them to see. a wordsmith am i 12-1-06 pick for me an image a picture from the earth a living moment, caught in time like the imagination giving birth i will write your image your picture, in the sky forever and yet transient for a wordsmith am i i will link the delicate chains of every noble thought and i will polish shamelessly ambitions that will come to naught i will make the rhyme scheme work and i will write the oceans blue and i will make your lies the real and undo the all the truths i will make the forests walk and fishes speak and sigh i will right and upend your world for a wordsmith am i the magic's in the drying ink the clacking of the keys the power of your own dark thoughts and the secret that is me decide upon eternity and don't your heart deny-- souls are like birds from cages freed because a wordsmith am i a limerick to he who denied my only talent 12-1-06 i haven't much claim to fame i'm not a noteworthy dame but i'll tweak a word and rest assured you'll die in embarrassment‘s flame The Dream 12-1-06 picture me riding the back of infinity a wave of ineffable creative energy a dark bright triumph of imaginative power and all the stars bursting into flower sweeping me up in a grand wave falling and hearing the voices of angels calling the universe is mine and i am the sky the earth is within me and truth flies by picture the death of entropy and pain and all the fulfillment we stand to gain close your eyes and breathe deeply now hold in the perfume of the unbroken vow remember the feeling of a love so pure for any ill it was the only cure picture me standing on the mountain peak and wait with me, breathless, for God to speak. Always A New Perspective (so it has been, so it shall be) 12-1-06 remind me a thousand years from now as i awake from death's thin sleep to look back upon the times that hurt when upon me darkness seemed to creep and after having experienced hell for a very real thousands of years ask me what i would have said to those visions when first i cried those tears I Who Bequeath These Words to You 12-1-06 the folds in the blanket of night are smothering to the lonely and the oppressive heat of a lazy summer is never received but coldly. what is romance to the lovelorn? and what is the truth to the hurt? first mend the shards of a broken heart then you'll know when you're over the worst don't anticipate the flight of falling but watch the ground for tripping stones smile, eyes closed, to the mirror and you won't see you're alone the soul of the devil is jealousy if he has one, anyway don't pretend you know everything and second-think running away if you are a flower, life is good if you are trapped in a vase it is bad forget all the words of others and remember the goodness you've had i, who aspire to wisdom, bequeath these words to you not because they're worth anything much but because right now they're my truth. Forever 12-1-06 i'd write forever if i could get lost in the words on the page and forever stand still in the sun delighted, thrilled, and amazed i'd never remember the hunger the cold, the pain, or the fear i'd always forget the anger and every single tear i would if that were heaven but at times my heart still sore betrays me in the thinking that rather it's where you are forever i would have loved you forever i would have cried but forever ended the day i knew my love for you had died you are the one who killed forever strangled it after birth when you betrayed all that i am and left me alone on the earth but a new forever began today or at some point, in my soul and that's the forever i'll stand by now the forever in which my heart is whole Family: The Bad (approx. 12-16-03, from Rituals assg. 9th grade) They smother you with kisses With smiles, love and tears They take care of your every wish And tell you not to fear. They‘re called parental units And I‘m sorry, but they‘re bores They never listen to you They drown you out in snores I know you‘re s‘posed to love them And I try, I really do But do you know how hard it is To let them love you? To settle back and let them rule Your life ‗cause ―they know best‖ To let them do their job because Interference causes stress It‘s funny when you think about it How parents think they‘re smart When really kids just let them run with it— To hold your tongue, it is an art. You see the things they do For their benefit, not yours I know it doesn‘t seem like that But it shows in the chores They say it makes you stronger For later on in life But they just don‘t want to worry And therefore have no strife. Love is a very selfish thing It‘s the desire not those who it‘s for This is what family means to be— That is, only when I‘m bored. Family: The Good (approx. 12-16-03, 9th grade ‗Rituals‘ assg.) Family is that summer feeling When magic‘s in the air When fireflies are being caught No June bugs yet in your hair Family is that new-school-year shudder In September every year Family is that loving safeness When there‘s nothing left to fear Family is that Christmas joy With consent and warmth and love for all An equality of peacefulness That comes as we answer one another‘s calls Family is that New Year‘s party With good cheer all around With all night movies and tired smiles And no one feeling sad or downed Family is that Valentine‘s hug With cards all happily traded Roses smiling so pretty from the vase And every one feels cherished, no one jaded. Family is that right-before-Spring winter chill When everyone shivers in the frosty air Then comes home to bask in the warmth That comes from sitting with loved ones in your favorite chair. Birth (approx. 12-16-03, 9th grade Rituals assg.) They swept in from the sandy dunes And strode throughout the town They were three kings from the far, far east Whom an angel had sent down. You‘d think that kings would stop and stay At the ritziest hotel But not these three, that was not for them They never stopped, egged on by caroling bells. The three had wandered near and far Before they met their resting place— Amongst the shepherds, sheep and poor boys Who rarely washed their face. But the three of royal blood Seemed hardly not to care All their thoughts were turned upon A tiny manger there. One by one the three knelt down And held out their gifts three— And one by one they worshiped there The Son that‘s part of the Trinity It was a belated birthday party Several weeks too late for the day of his birth But the three gave their gifts eagerly Gold, frankincense and myrrh. This hasn‘t been the only birth Attended by royalty But it is the only birth The Christ child will ever see. And that is why throughout the world Two thousand years from then More shepherds, kings, poor children too Worship still our King of the future, now and then. to be human 12-1-06 it was like a solid tear, that lump in the throat. it came with the clinging sadness saran wrap, choking. modern death, but old life. so what else is new? i try to imitate that which i love but as usual i fail-- maybe i'll stop trying? hardly. an icy branch cracks in the breathless stillness and the frozen pond gurgles. isn't that what it means to be human? time 12-1-06 i lied when i told you i forgot and i lied when i told you i cared i lied when i said i hated you and i lied when i said i'm sorry i'd rather be a liar like you than the fool you fooled. - time - - passes - - slow - - yet - - fast - i lied when i said i'd rather be a liar because the truth is i am neither but you are a despicable excuse for a human being and probably always will be - time - - passes - - slow - - yet - - fast - someday i want to come to this place this final rest on the journey and know forgiveness. i will be there before i know it you see - time - - passes - - slow - - yet - - fast - on the second to last day of eternity 12-2-06 i feel alive like sunshine and vivid like the rain i feel like a spreading chorus and God's own antidote to pain i feel a dozen energies pulsing in my mind i am one of a thousand whirling dancers skipping in and out of time feel the silk of the sky run it between your fingers wait and wait and hesitate savor the sweetness and linger never give up the thrill of life and the tangy fruit taste of the sun but be well aware, and stay prepared truth is, we've only just begun The First Christmas Song of the Season 12-2-06 I heard the first Christmas song of the season this morning And it awakened in me a voice I thought long gone All the old familiar feelings came rushing back to meet me And I found the words to sing along I had not forgotten, though in the darkness I despaired But morning sun on white snow ground stirred my soul to care And now the angels‘ chorus is echoed by the earth And my phoenix hope again reborn, in loving image of my Savior‘s birth The snow sang me to this morning 12-2-06 three inches deep cold icicles, a billion a trillion a zillion of flakes of iced breath sent down by God to soften the world and tone down the confusing echoes, to remind us of the beauty hiding under all the slime our ugly angry hurting words leave, that existed before the great red raw gashes of war streaked like lumpy bleeding paint among us God is breathing the breath of life into us once again. Stop, pause, look up; the soft folds of eternity will hold you for a moment and the same stars that shone down on Him so long ago might remind you of the soul you forgot you had, and that that soul is not alone in the world so much after all. how do i write? 12-4-06 how do i write the hill, the tree? how do i write the deadly sea? the emptiness in the mirror that's me? or even the dread of memory? the eyes are weary and the soul is black i'm falling, falling, and that's a fact cold feet, cold hands, a freezing heart trapped in its ice-cage, too late for warmth? how do i write the chill of fate? the breath of time that says, too late? how do i write the fear inside that grows with every tear i cry? the lights are dim and dizzy dance slide sleepy me to somber trance pained expression, what words are there for what is tainted but once was fair? how do i write the apathy welling? how do i write the lonely dwelling? the forever-lost sob of a soul for selling? the gaze of oblivion, so compelling? the soul is weak, an invalid, infirm only despair can it now confirm but beyond the mist, will we soon learn if exist the flames that freeze and burn? how do i write the exhaustion of hope? the listless wait with which none can cope? how do i write of the slippery slope? and the death of beauty amid rough rope? i slipped, slow-motion, from grace it seems smooth walls ‗round now, trapped in these dreams no sight of savior, no light beam i'm left alone with my dreaded me how do i write the end of love? how do i write the darkness above? the emptiness in the mirror that's me? or even my dread of the future unseen? he said my heartbreak would cause me to play 12-4-06 i used to have this teacher a music teacher who gave me lots of advice, and books to borrow. he told me once i think this was when i still had that first boyfriend someday my heart would be broken and when it was when i picked up my instrument i would play for the first time absolutely beautifully because it would come straight out of the depths of my soul and the notes would be wrung from the feebly plucking heartstrings. he was wrong. on one count, at least. i don't play anymore, not like that. i did get my heart broken by that boy but it wasn't until this boy this time that i began to understand what he really meant about the essence of an artist, (if i can be so presumptuous and take that name) because for the first time when i began to write the words came like they'd never come before and although it's hardly my masterpiece any of these scattered lines i was them as i wrote them and in a way, maybe i am now. still. but i want to have those lines grow with me, then, because i am not the same. great beauty came out of the blackened ruins of my heart, a phoenix from the ashes, but i don't want this verse (or broken prose, whichever,) to tie me down. but maybe if like feathers they come and go and change and rise like beating angels wings then maybe, once again having worked out the details to my satisfaction, i can take his words as truth and at face value. it would be nice to fly. we invented time's restraints 12-5-06 i have this image in my mind of calendars, clocks, date-keeping devices as great stone and metal and wood walls holding in the liquid slosh of being of time, moving ever forward onward back in circles, keeping it together the way a glass holds a cylinder of water and without all these strange inventions our lives would be as free and brave and open as the great wave-washing ever-deep swirling liquid freeflowing wetness salty taste of sheer highflying existence that is the sea This isn‘t me, but they aren‘t me either: a prologue (1st) 12-9-06 Why cannot I follow the prepatterened trails And learn wholly from others who were what I am? Why cannot I find an absolute absolutely me But instead must mix and match from others that I see? This isn‘t me, but they aren‘t me either: a chapter (2nd) 12-9-06 All the old energy‘s left me And all the old passion‘s gone The victim of stupidness, fate I know only that I‘ve been wronged Listless, I stare at the ceiling Apathy welling inside Thoughts, no thoughts, then nothing I cannot even cry This isn‘t the fate of others I‘m here, but it‘s different too I don‘t yet know how to understand What instead is really truth. looking in the mirror childish handwriting covers the page i am old, but not as others are, or as i'd wish even for chains of rage; the rattling clang would lift the silence so sad This isn‘t me, but they aren‘t me either: a chapter (3rd) 12-9-06 November doesn‘t like me Not that I can see November is the month of pain That always echoes shades of blame The wind is loudly howling The heavens darkly scowling But all the pretty verse Won‘t make less real the curse I strive to be a great one I once thought to be pure But locked away boxes of shame in my mind Make me wonder the nature of lies and time Rustle, fall, waterless, brown Shriveled souls of trees fall down But if just sleeping ‗neath the snow they lie Perhaps renewal‘s hope is nigh If I could kill these cursed thoughts Where memories old and new are brought And stay contented, firm, safe, secure I might could resist the trait‘rous lure I know not where I stand today Or what the meaning of words I say Past present, future, nothing all Whirling through me, round me, dark waterfall Now I lay me down to sleep Burdened soul drowning in the deep Should I die before I wake I pray to God sleep may be saved. you lied 12-9-06 you said you really loved me, that you‘d fallen at first sight you said how much you needed me, that you‘d hold me every night a long sad time it was before i knew a long sad time it took me to realize in everything, everything, everything, EVERYTHING. you lied. you said 12-10-06 you said friendship like it was an honor you said special like you meant it you said beautiful like you were honest you said i‘ll listen like you were trustworthy you said only you like it was true you said love like it was forever orange juice and dragonforce 12-11-06 orange juice pumping in my veins dragonforce music in my brain rocking out my eardrums wild. there's a peace in raucous din and orange juice sloshing in the cup life is hard and love hath killed but these heal me alive again. clap 12-11/12-06 Our love is a dying fairy flickering light of thin kept faith; clap, clap-clap, clap, clap, clap. this is the ending of an age. Our love is dying like fantasy in the eyes of a child of reality; clap, clap-clap, clap, clap, clap. it's more and less than rationality. Our love is dead like a crushéd flower like midnight before the dawn's first hour and if ever existed that love true and whole it can only be proven by the scars on my soul. clap, clap-clap, clap, clap, clap. forgiveness and justice 12-12-06 at first the revenge fantasies worked. i felt victorious, free, an unstoppable force. but dreams don't tend to come true, and i know well enough it wouldn't work. (even though i didn't know you. not really. not enough at all.) what would work now is not something i can fully totally even a little believe in. the universe hasn't been just so far. how can I believe it will bring you to your knees double you over with agony of soul because you feel what i feel, and felt or cause you to wake up one morning all alone and miss me, and give anything to go back and undo your mistakes when finally i am moved on, happy, secure, and have forgiven you. i guess even wishing for that justice is futile because if true justice is served and forgiveness again claims my soul for its own even if it happened and i knew i would not care. but that would be the greater justice punishment for you of all. annul me (the easy way out) 12-12-06 i am struggling to stay afloat gasping water into my lungs i am being dashed against the rocks i have tumbled from safe illusions into this. it was nice while it lasted, but now it is not so nice, and i am tired of the continuous shocks when i just want to be done with it already. go ahead. erase my memory. it's not forgetting that i want but a total annulment of this stretched out agony. please. annul me. it would make my year. in the second saddest way. but you know what? this time, i almost want the easy way out. i‘ve worked hard enough at this already, and that— that is all his fault. sometimes the ghosts drown out the living 12-12/13-06 sometimes the ghosts drown out the living when memory treads the fine thin line between the once-was and imaginings. sometimes the ghosts are too thick to see through when that cold breath-taking shock of past-on-future comes and all the distance vanishes like mist on a hot summer morn. when will the echoes fade? when the present has changed form so completely the ghosts leave because they no longer recognize what was once their home. fairness/what is deserved 12-13-06 you don't have to do anything to deserve it even if the universe is just its free agents these silly stupid ridiculous people are not, not always, not sometimes, but not even the ones you call friend will turn against you everyone cares as long as you agree with them but dare to stand up for your feelings your truth your point of view your justice and they will abandon you in seas of cruel words and silence leaving in the opposite direction of but to the same destination as your enemies so what after all in the end is the difference what prove the scars? 12-13-06 what prove the scars? white embedded raised memories of past who says they have to be reminders of all the good times that were lost? maybe their existence is merely proof that those good times never truly in the truest sense ever really existed and are instead merely grim souvenirs of a deadly and destructive twisted malady the curse of a long look through rose colored lenses at reality. uniqueness (but you, my love, are different—i swear!) 12-13-06 sometimes we like things that are "different" we call this uniqueness and say it makes for being special. but when it comes to love i think one of two things really is happening. something inside of ourselves, good or bad, we recognize in another, presented in a wholly new light, and, thinking it an opposite, unique and fresh and appealing, we rush to meet it with open arms, heedless of the tripping stones beneath our feet, catching our toes. or else, some flaw or some good thing, however you choose to look at it, that we see so readily in others, presented in a separate light in this new person becomes the center and source reason for all of our affections as we mistake it for a new kind of treasure. but in either scenario, the same basic truth remains. no one is unique not really because everyone is, and what at first seems to be the answer to every prayer in the end is only the misleading, alluring siren call, first opening scenes of a nightmare crouching in the darkness just out of peripheral sight, waiting like a great stinking fetid winged jagged tooth jawed beast to devour our heart as we stare into its eyes, the eyes of our lover. free-flow declaration of intent and past 12-14-06 just because my heart is tender and sore still does not mean i am not happy just because your words still might hurt me does not mean you are right. you destroyed the innocent and perhaps i was a willing accomplice but if so, only because i was innocent and i am not sure there is a forgiveness for you. sometimes trying to convince the wrong that they are actually wrong is extremely difficult and frustrating you want to scream and explode but in the end you will be happy because you are right. i am not sure it would be so nice to have all the answers after all, not when not knowing is so comforting and leaves pleasant thoughts up to the imagination, because after all what is most important is knowing where you stand and truth is malleable, sometimes, in some ways, that hard to explain way, because in the end you cannot put my center off balance or even kill my soul. only i can do that, but instead, eventually the guilt will dissipate, and perhaps if i pray hard enough some day, just like that other guy, he will be no more than a dim an foggy, vaguely annoying, memory. or perhaps not even that. if so-called love like a poison could truly be let out, drawn out with the power of suctioning, centering, wonderful words, he would already be gone, and i would feel. i would feel so wonderful, because just as in my-- ha, my closing arguments, i'll call them, i will gain the upper hand--how could i not?--i will have the last say--because it's all on my terms-- and in the most ultimate and real perfect wonderful absolute way. i will win. the prize being made whole again. It‘s hard to admit that love is dead, but it‘s better that it is, and you know it. 12-14-06 No one, especially no woman, likes to admit that love is dead Or that their soul mate was not worthy of their perfect love But wanting to avoid that unpleasant feeling doesn‘t make it untrue, or Even bad. Don‘t you know? Now even the angels applaud you, Congratulating your success on transcending from the false pit of Lies, deceit, and what once was, to the high freedom of the above. Yes, innocence is gone, and there are longed-for places to which You can now never return, except in those rare moments daffodils portend And then it is only imagining—but everyone has to grow up, even Through their bad choices and the nasty side effects of reality, which is True love that is really simply true nonsense. But even though you have Failed yourself, others forgive; only from you to you is it hard to make amends. Because you can feel the sadness, you know you are human, and alive, And not completely broken. You know you are just and will now stay true You know this feeling is part of what makes you the amazing beautiful Strong person you are, and even though it hurts, in a way it‘s almost worth it. Not because it has anything to do with him, but because it is a sign of what Wonderful secret inside it is that makes for the complete, perfect you. No one, especially no woman, likes to admit that love is dead, or that With that feeling comes a shame and a wound, deep, a regret, anger, and pain But you know you will only move on when you learn to trust enough again to Forgive yourself, to wake up one morning having both forgotten, and, in the Process, forgiven. You know it can‘t be all bad when you look up at the heavens And realize it‘s for you the angels shed tears of happiness, baptizing you anew with rain. what i really meant to say about the pain 12-14-06 if being the better person means bearing the pain so often the burden of the better people, then bear it with pride and head held high. your strength comes from your weakness, your love from that one part of innocence no one can ever take away, not even you, and this pain is the beginning of the best thing (so far) ever to happen to you. if being the better person means being as honestly hurt as you were honest, then wear your pain with the pride and dignity you deserve, and as you experience the truth about integrity and love, it will fade, and a roaring contentment will take its place. you are sore and battle weary now, and it is not right that the villain escapes, but some things are more important. you are one of them. and this your aching heart, your pain, is testament to that. bear your pain with pride, because without it there is little to distinguish you from the darkness. last year, this year 12-15-06 It's amazing how things change from year to another. Last year this time she and I sat in class giggling over my "cute college guy." This year, the class has changed but although our subject matter is the same the comments now are far from kind. With the best of reasons, sadly. So the changes continue, inside and out the season stays the same but the window view changes, and everyone must be broken at some point or another. So last year may have been fun and easy and "oh so perfect", but it was false. You can value the difficulties of this year more because it is honest and real and the future's foundation. You are sick now from gorging on the light, sickeningly sweet nothings of fantasy and lies But the solid meals of hearty, healing truth will purge you clean, and real dressings instead of imaginary comforts will bind your wounds and wrap your soul in the forever comfort of real love. And what it means and how good it feels to abandon the disgustingly well disguised allures of the hell of false love and untrue lovers. Of all the changes that occur, this new beginning in your heart, your rebirth, is the most wonderful and perfect and happiest of all. It isn't only what you see that's changed but really, more importantly, how you see it. a different feeling 12-15-06 It's a different feeling when you're alone again Alone in your own body in your own life... Not that you don't have friends, but your "other half‖ (so called) is nothing more than a half-heard song on a quickly- changed radio station. It's a different feeling, like doorways closed and a reconceived notion of self. And it's not necessarily bad But like any new conception, it takes some getting used to, a little practice, some patience, and a willingness to let the tears come as they may. As thunderstorms crack wide the earth and heal the crackling parched soil so this new phase, this christening of dry and blowing dust into deep rich sweet smelling soil from which new green shoots will grow and which will be your great reward and relaxing, content new home-- complete with furnishings of happiness and a new feeling, of welcoming warmth. Strong 12-15-06 Being strong doesn't mean you never cry but that you survive the crying and after it's all over somehow carry on. You think me weak because I cry, but I cam strong because I face my pain. The ability to be hurt is the ability to be human. You think me frightened because I admit, I am not always devoid of fear. But I have the courage to see my fears head on, and that sight is what makes me tremble. Do you? I didn't think so. Streetlamp 12-15-06 There‘s something lonely about a streetlamp All alone by a house, on a corner But kind of brave and sad and wonderful, too All alone, small light in big darkness Calmly brightening the world for you. Sometimes it‘s nice 12-15-06 Sometimes it's nice to write in old notebooks and avoid the cold impersonal computer Sometimes it's nice to smell paper and ink and use the past to be nostalgic about the future Sometimes it's nice to find your center through what I mean by that is hard to say Search the old and true, and tired, clichés, but sometimes it's nice to be you, with nothing in your way. FEARLESS (acrostic) 12-15-06 F or E ver A lways R ight here L ooking E ternity S quare on, S miling NO FEAR (acrostic) 12-15-06 N othing, except O nly one thing, F ear, can E ver stop you A nd I have arrived R id of fear Rational 12-17-06 for all my rationalizing i still don't know what happened. because even though every single thought has been examined and labeled and carefully taken care of, the irrationalities like hurt and doubt refuses to be tamed. the wild pets of a distracted master, untamed primal forces, run loose in the furnished, but empty, heart the house of a master too long gone. humanity has been neglectful my elixir solutions fail me tonight and the absence of (however fake) substantial food without cause or provocation has left me empty wilted bewildered. perhaps it is better to be evil after all they at least those like him do not suffer this clenching painful torture. at least not over me. and, after all, hardly unexpected had i stopped and thought, i am right back where i started. for all my rationalizing, i still know nothing. right 12-17-06 (began and forgotten earlier in 06) they raped my soul i was left to die and none knew or cared that i was right. Listen (old, old one. Not dated. Probably middle school.) Hear the trees creak Hear the wind speak Tune in your ear Wait to hear The secrets the grass tells The stories of the wells Adventured of the sun Importance of the one Word: listen Begin to listen. Shut your mouth your eyes turn south and down, your nose not to smell the rose Just begin To listen Not Less than Holy (old, old one. Not dated. Probably middle school.) The cross was bare His mind was fair Never to sin Not having been Less than holy He turned the water Into wine But no one saw This as a sign The truth was clear But not held dear No one thought Of the peace he brought All they could see Was enmity But to fulfill the prophecy He surely was not less than Holy The Truth (old, old one. Not dated. Probably middle school.) So many words So little space So much that I could just erase But I'll leave it here And hold it dear For someone new Might see it as true It might help out Someone to shout And someone to grow Until they know Until they can name Without claiming fame The truth I know will make them gasp But cannot name, nor yet quite grasp Slow to Know (old, old one. Not dated. Probably middle school.) The empty place inside me grows as i watch the melting snows and drizzling rains and feel the pain as smells of springtime reach my nose the pains of grasping truth, my friend, that can never, ever end until God our souls to heaven send demons 12-18-06 the shame came in all its usual coldness. and the words came the same way they did before. all the usual dark demons came to stand about, tormenting me. but what hurt most was looking into the heart of the shadow and seeing what i had once loved so dear suddenly turned menacing, and cruel. everyone has their own demons to fight. perhaps it is just my bad luck my demons are the deformed offspring of former loves. nothing turns out like it began or was meant to in the end. spirals not circles are the shapes of eternity. but whether you are sliding up or down its cold and elegant curves depend either upon your point of view or if you believe in such things some kind of fate. all the old and usual boring poetic images are present in my mind. there is only this emotion within me struggling to break free that convinces me on my better days these demons, however commonplace, are somehow meaningful. once again my words have overflowed time and space. everyone has their own demons to fight. but this biting sorrow and this wretched cringing are new experiences for me. i wish my demons would die. i would so much rather help fight other demons than face my own. the dark and cold alleys of my mind and memory are not safe places to travel at night when even the heart has eyes that spy and jeer. traitorous fool. these demons are no different from any other yet they hurt me more. why must we persist in believing in fairness or what is deserved when the demons clearly grow strong feasting on the satisfying crunch and sweet melting taste of our gutted dreams, hanging in tatters from their gruesome mouths? i never understood certain difficulties quite fully before. it makes me sad that i have "grown up" this way. you see? all demons are the same. they all stare back at you from your heart with those unforgiving familiar eyes. and then weighed down for too long by the doubt and the injustice of it all, your soul would give anything to break down and cry. Bus Ride 9-28-06 (creative writing formula poem) Formula Poem #1 hot bus smelling of people cramped, crowded, green shirts all together in seats creak old lion bus storm clouds gathering, restrained, for far too long tension palpable, impending rain release of dark anger thumping hearts, glaring bad day Mountain Hike 9-28-06 (creative writing formula poem) hard rock beneath fingers like a tower of tangible challenge sweet apples, lunch wind swaying us openly echoing our joy mountain beneath us now fall coming he there with me shedding jacket, taking mine Tom and Thumbelina, we tiny figures before God's glory Mountains 9-28-06 (tentative) (creative writing places poems) dark, silent, tall immoveable holding, supporting, the sky around valleys, above still waters between Heaven and Hell, sentinels of Time mountain range Cave 9-28-06 (tentative) (creative writing places poems) silent, damp, warm untouchable reaching into Earth's bowels under sky, beneath holding the past, future coming only slowly cave Tree 9-28-06 (tentative) (creative writing places poems) green, rustling, peace leaves bark living with creatures over, around growing upward reaching wide tree in forest Rachel Limerick (date uncertain) (creative writing) There once was a girl with short hair Who had a certain flair She liked to eat chocolate Epitome of refinement And liked to go to the fair What Is 12-21-06 what is a soul but the most perfect expression of oneself in a smile? what is the rain but your sorrow cried a warm baptism of tears? what is a poem but a facet in the prism that is life, love, rain, soul? One Moment (Or Two) 12-21-06 (i spent a moment frozen) i would sing a song of beauty but my song is harsh, not pretty i would paint my world for you but with no talent i cannot paint it true. (let me try (try words)) i would write the thoughts like blades of grass but illusions dripping, i lose them much too fast i am surviving, that is not false but lack of words brings me to a halt. (this isn't how it started out) i would be doing so much better but i received a shock, an empty letter a reminder that even the end wasn't perfect and still your taint is a nagging defect. (scrambled thoughts of rhyme and (complicated/false)love) the old injustices come to mind but i have realized, have come to find that orange juice helps, and music blasts, and good friends, too—make sure the past stays past. (honesty and too much metaphoric symbolism make me thirsty) It‘s so funny how sometimes 12-23-06 it's so funny how sometimes friendship changes and how sometimes you have to force the words but often both are for the better though the reasons lie at the ends of earth it's so funny how sometimes things go right but when you're sad from before it's hard to smile and you can't decide if its REAL right or wrong but you keep on going ahead, all the while it's so funny how sometimes little meditations are ends, and sometimes a means to an end and sometimes it's funnier the way things go between just you and me, friend to friend. there is no poetry left in me 12-24-06 there is no poetry left in me (the irony soaks my skin) it's all fakery and imitation (thin to fat and fat to thin) he took it all, and yes, i'm still sad how can i not be? i've been had (force the rhyme scheme! make it work! pretend a knowledge! and that it doesn't hurt!) i hate it that he doesn't care i hate it that i do i hate that he's still in my head-my heart? and my writing too there is no poetry left in me loathing consumes my soul what is fairness? there's nothing here but contempt, regret, heat, and cold. (there is no po... ) Mostly 12-26-06 Mostly I just try to keep breathing But some days those breaths are just so cold It's hard to see that horizon Through the dark mists covering the end of the world Mostly (2.0) 12-27-06 Mostly I just try to keep breathing Some days are happy and others are sad And sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't But that's the way of this life we have we shall sail troubled waters tonight 12-29-06 the stars glitter strangely in a manner unfamiliar to me. i think they are hiding something. they are sending cloud shadows down with their coolly staring eyes like insect gazes. directing them straight at me where i sleep unawares in the fragile confines of my room. i do not know the demon dance but its power distorts my dreams. i am unaware of how it kills me. i woke up in the morning unsettled like a calm descended when i expected storms. the terror strangled me. i listened intently to a faint non-noise but it was like feeling color. the demons laughed and tortured me from afar like mists of ill winds blinding eyes in bright sun. sometimes the past has problems letting go like that. if i could have kept sleeping, i would have. i‘m still standing here 12-29-06 i'm still standing here a little confused it's taken some time for this to sink in the depth of your betrayal penetrated far deeper than i imagined. honestly, what good does it do us to love? it leaves us gibbering wrecks at the end annoying ourselves for our endless repetition when help gives up, stops coming even from friends. it just all caught up to me of a sudden the minute i let down my guard everything seems to lead back to this one failure it shouldn't have to be this hard. there are some feelings that do not fade and they are not the ones originally thought. the curse is minds that spin like tops and never stop even after the fight is lost. words are useless, after a certain point. they are empty echoes of feeble gestures, pointless. lip service to a past than can never be regained and the tears of fury falling from skies that are hopeless. I WILL HATE THE ANGER and i will hate this place until i wake up from hate one day and behind, in the nightmares, leave your face. words are useless because they are not accurate the bureaucracy of language makes me sick you who think you know me through these words you are wrong, or more wrong - take your pick. the bureaucracy of language 12-30-06 words are useless because they are not accurate the bureaucracy of language makes me sick. you can be misunderstood or misconstrued but there is no truth, so take your pick words are useless, after a certain point. they are empty echoes of feeble gestures, pointless. lip service to a past than can never be regained tears of fury falling from skies that are hopeless. words are useless because they conspire to obscure and obfuscate the simple truths. bound by linguistics meter sound rhyme they wither both intent and youth. words are useless because they are echoes not life itself but life's imitation. and like confused children in a hall of mirrors they stare uncomprehending at the implications. words are useless because they are never right the bureaucracy of language is strangling the world little bombs of poison, unknowable damage threats of destruction, from man's mind hurled. if i were a butterfly 12-5-06 if i were a butterfly and if you were a bee oh how happy oh how happy we would be if i were a butterfly and if you were the wind i would ride your graceful currents friend to friend if i were a butterfly and if you were a you would i rest upon your finger and hear you whisper truths? if i were a butterfly and if you caught me up in your nets of jewelled wisdom would you speak to me of love? if i were a butterfly would you keep me in your cage? safe and warm against the cold and the world's embittering rage? if i were a butterfly would you set me free? let me go because there's nothing left of me you want to see? if i were a butterfly would you think of me at all? or would i be forgotten (more) because i am so small? if i were a butterfly a butterfly with wings the wings would rip and tear and there'd be nothing left of me for wings are all the spirit has and all there is of me An Instant‘s Drowsiness 1-4 or 5-06 An instant‘s drowsiness overtook my soul When I stepped into the room— I slipped into the haze of dark Oblivious to doom My eyes awoke a little later To darkness all around— And with stifled breath and strangled scream ‗Gainst coffin lid my hands did pound Jack and Jill (parody nursery rhyme) 1-9-07 Jack and Jill went up the hill to argue with Mr. Bush But he said, Fools! God said I‘m right! So they gave the coot a push Humpty Dumpty 1-9-07 Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall watching empires rise and fall All the emperors had listened to him And now Humpty was happily in charge again. Sensus Communis 1-12-07 It was a dark rye night a pumpernickel night a night of venal glory and granular grace The diablo moon growled with clouds down upon the shadowed bailiwick Divinity safely castigated the luscious malcontent plotted Far from chimerical doubts pared themselves in imagination's recesses but a sluggish smirk still grew and grew on the face of that stormy petrel the vapid sky grumbled in paroxysms over hinterlands inflated with sludge and the interregnum vanished as an imaginary victory, like dispersed flatulence Rampant vacillation of purpose obscured perspicuity and coxcombs run amok in the shadow of contradictions and anti-rebellion Sensus communis, the Romans said Did the Romans tell a lie? Or did they too set the stage this way and die without a fight? In the dark rye night the pumpernickel night the night of venal glory and granular grace A moment‘s hesitation 1-16/17-07 I felt a moment's hesitation, when first you spoke those words, but I was young in pain and risk and could not foresee hurt but now the all consuming apathy is more than I can know; and the only thought to mind is how the time is passing slow chasms are deeper than crossing can; the past a barrier still; and sometimes grief‘s a stronger foe than even time and will even so, the differences between the life I led before, and now are all that chain me to this place amid these broken vows. What does happiness feel like? 1-21-07 "What does happiness feel like?" he asked, solemn like. "Velvet," she answered, without a moment's hesitation, and felt pleased with the answer. There was a pause, like the hesitation between a wave cresting and landing on the sand and rocks. "That's it?" And so she thought deeper. "Happiness feels like cuddling and friendship, and it tastes like macaroni and cheese. Happiness is bright eyes and red cheeks good memories and broad futures and an innocence so sweet guilt has not even been conceived. Happiness is like hot air balloons in which the soul is caught up, tangled in the basket, sprawled and gasping, out of breath, with laughter and smiles born to lofty heights among white clouds where the air is thin, but sweet, and you are nearest to God in generous, glorious, arm-spreading, smile-making, head-thrown-back-eyes-closed joy." This is the Last 1-22-07 When I walk through that door it's the last. Last speech, last topic, last case last win or loss last time in this place. When I walk thorough that door, it's all over four years of blood sweat tears and ink My one event, my only success. But this is it after all that This is the last. When I walk through that door, yeah, the tears are gonna come. And it's not silly because I'm losing a(nother) part of me And there's never going to be another chance. Last drop of adrenaline last fine words last time standing here as me as I know me last time last fact last, last, last I wish I could start all over again Because this is it after all that (and oh, the looking back) this is the last. I'd give a lot if it were my first, but-- this is the last. That Nutmeg Smell 1-22-07 Nutmeg If that‘s the right word Permeates my memory, with long mislaid Visuals of coats and shoes and jeans And I always smelled like that, always My hands did, Coming away from whatever holiday and Whichever house; those cousins of mine. What characters. I look around now, with everyone all grown up, And everyone married, And all these strange new people, And loneliness comes over me. Things are not what they once were (As if I am!) but I Was too much of a child to know what I would miss When I missed it. How lucky I was. I raise my palm to my nose And inhale And that smell sends me spinning inside. I am three, in a tree, playing cats, With that married woman over there—can it be her?— I am nine, being power bounced in stockinged feet Through chilly air off the trampoline and Landing hard, and refusing to lose face in front of The boys because after all I am a Tomboy, One of the Boys, and Darn Proud. I am ten, standing in that now-gone tree‘s topmost branches, Looking down on those two barely-younger boys and Daring myself to climb higher, meeting their taunts with Sly retorts and playing Tree Indian in between Sister-like conferences with that strange grown up woman over there On that trampoline and Out back, with the three rotten boards And a rusted nail that was Almost our tree house. I am thirteen—fourteen—fifteen? And Closets are secret passageways in our castle in our country And that waterfall is so pretty My, how it complements the grounds Oh the intrigue! The danger! The glory! And golf claps and giant jars of lemon drops. I am now And With sadness Remembering. No more Midnight Ghost No more childish pranks No more conspiring to spend the night No more Tricks on playground equipment No more promises of forever love and friendship Now there‘s husbands and wives and babies and in-laws And a strange feeling that was never there before A feeling I don‘t like. I look around this roomful of strangers, and my Throat constricts. But I raise my hands to my face and breathe deep I close my eyes and I am back there Trees and swings and midnight games Friendship books gel pens all night talks Endless holidays and casual playing Teasing and proving and long-road walks Fiddle music, guitars and banjos Songs I know that run through my blood Lightheaded joy and exciting tumbles Make believe and dirty with mud Waterfalls and lazy lakes Sunburned shoulders and watchful eyes Getting away with anything And late night pretend-sleeping during back-home rides A voice, a name—the moment breaks Recollections cease Though I would give most anything to change it— The past is done, locked in its case Put away, put back, on the shelf there; where All childhood memories go When we must unburden them to take up again instead Our newfound worries and cares. (But still In the air On my hands At times I will smile And think Of that nutmeg smell…) Once Upon a Time (Fairy Tale Gone Wrong) 1-22-07 In a day I was a goddess In an hour, the pale moon For a moment I was perfect— And it ended much too soon Oh in the day I was a goddess I proudly strolled around Admiring the every inch Of Earth that was my home, my grounds And in he hour the moon was me I shone with a thousand pearls‘ luster To turn away my gaze and heart Required more than any could muster But in that moment I was perfect I clearly saw my doom Yet lulled by the comforts of the hen I closed my eyes as it loomed In a day I was a goddess In an hour, the pale moon For a moment I was perfect— And in that moment came my ruin In My Dream That Night 1-24-07 We stood in the soft light the barn light the bright light We stood in the gold light in my dream that night The fire burned around us Andrei's laugh bounced around us Natasha's tears fell around us the little princess smiled around us and stillness waves crashed about us We ran through the doorway he pulled me through the doorway lava came after through the doorway We strolled through the doorway and had much to say We were calm in the chaos talking in the chaos he still had my hand in the chaos hearts beat normally through the chaos near us there was a different chaos We stood in the soft light the barn light the bright light We stood in the gold light in my dream that night in the evening the sun set 1-30-07 The envelope lay on the counter Dirty smudged and torn The used couch clean scrubbed but worn and sad sat off to the side in the shadows A wispy wind blew through the living room The lamp stayed off this time The emptiness hushed light faded Darkness came and the cold settled in. To stay. Shooting the Star 1-30-07 It fell from the sky like shame runs from the truth A streak of fire in an otherwise blameless evening It crashed and burned in the large ocean in my backyard Next to my tiny lonely craft driving, storm, music, friend 11-29-06 (edited) head on your lap, fingers in my hair eyes closed, time is mine smiling, peace, first time all week lightning flashes through thin eyelids i don't want this to end but it will be sweeter for brevity and there is always of course tomorrow the wide world does not separate us yet i want to hold on to this i do not want to forget driving, storm, music, friend Moira Speaks 2-3-07 (Note: I love the title and the idea of the opening lines, but I know this particular writing isn‘t so great. Expand, change, and use (maybe?) for LAD anthology.) My name is Moira Speaks and my last name is a verb or so i like to say. I'm here to tell you a story about this life I led one day. It's a pretty funny tale about a king and a prince and a few queens and princesses, too. But the really funny part is that it's actually all about you. And me, in a way. Okay, mostly me. But some things are universal. They're things we all see. You see once upon a time in a kingdom on a cloud there was a land of fairy tales where good stories went to die. But kind of like the phoenix of the printed written word it's where they renewed, and they, or perhaps their descendents, began the descent back to earth. In one of these stories was the tale I've told you of and my story and your story were both the same yet different but converged. My name is Moira Speaks and a wrote a tale of wonder a tale of sadness and of glory and peace and happy endings. I told it every day until one time it came For me to pass the burdens on to someone new. My name is Moira Speaks and this is my story the story I began but that someone else will have to finish. It's a story we all know how goes but full of surprises even so. And I watched it and I've told it and given it my name. I lived it and I read it and now you will do and have done the same. Singles‘ Awareness Day 2-7-07 The chocolate in the store was enticing wrapped in its pretty pink bows, and probably sweet. But I felt bitter, and only pink with shame. The flowers on the side of the highway seemed to share my sorrow, drooping, as though with heavy rain despite the bright pinks and golds of the morning light. But the gnomes on those neatly manicured lawns of the happy couples‘ homes seemed to glare and jeer as I drove by. Laughing at my misfortune in their stone and clay way, with sightless eyes. Sightless as I was, once. A lost kite flew by overhead as I rested my head on my arm on the open window edge, paused at a red light - pink, just for today, just for me. I heard the kite‘s child scream; wild primal wail of loss and rejection of anguish, and, internally, I sympathized. That ridiculous inflatable octopus on the front entrance of the car wash seemed especially sickeningly ridiculous this morning, decked out, as it was, in bright pink sickeningly ridiculous hearts. Humbug. I am the Valentine's Zombie, I muse, as I pull into work, parking in my space. I am picketing with my Down With Singles Awareness Day sign, I imagine, parading around with my broken heart on my sleeve, for all to see. Next Year, I promise myself. Next Year. Next Year I will teach those ooh and aahing lovers over there a thing or two about pink and hearts, and how the former oozes from the latter when sweet intoxicating love turns sour, and makes you sick. But for today, it's time to hide, in my dark cubicle, and turn up the music, to block out the pink and beating, still-living hearts. Next Year. Next Year. I'll do better next year. Moira Speaks 2-7-07 (version 2) My name is Moira Speaks and my last name is a verb or so i like to say. I'm here to tell you a story about this life I led one day. It's kinda disjointed. I was never any good at keeping journals, you see. But I just wanted to live up to my name. I wanted to speak out for once instead of just thinking about speaking out, and I wanted to tell my story. Well. Here it is. And you know it all already. It's nothing new, and I suppose neither am I. But I'm me. So I care anyways. And maybe just maybe if I do a really fantastic job I'll get you to care, too. About my loves and my heartbreak and my friends and the stuff I saw and felt and imagined and dreamed. My name is Moira Speaks and it's a big job, being a Speaker. Because I'm not supposed to speak a lie. But the truth is hard. But you already knew that, didn't you. See? You're already smarter than I was, when I started off. My name is Moira Speaks. And that is exactly what I'm going to do. Genocide 1-23-07 Part 1 - Innocence Those eyes watched That heart broke Those tears flowed That voice spoke But everyone was happy just a moment now ago And the fields were green last summer, and in the winter there was snow How can the fields be red with blood, and men be grimly dead When still the thoughts of peaceful days live on inside my head? Those stars fell That soul wept Those eyes closed That Fate slept But the days go on as ever and surely there is hope For those who march beneath the sun across the land‘s great scope As those who die must reach a peace beyond what we had before If only we could envy them and not go on to mourn them more. Those days passed That girl grew Those truths lived That she knew But the bewilderment of innocence blurs even thoughts of self And the calm of childhood trust is a fragile charm upon a shelf Yet another toy of which we never know the value Because as yet we can‘t imagine life without its wondrous power. Part 2 - Experience The guns rang The people died The dust choked The tears cried And every happy ending is an ending just the same And the next blank page won‘t always stay that way And the human heart is faulty like the earth that it comes from And the sorrow now is stronger as the storm is now above The blood ran The wind cried The hearts broke The hope died And every trembling flower will be frozen just the same And every tiny petal broken when the winter comes again And the human soul is broken like the mirrors it holds up And if any certainty exists it‘s that there‘s naught to trust in luck The souls wept The lives lost The flight failed The price cost And everything they tell you, you begin to see is wrong And the light all in the heavens is a bitter empty song And as the life begins to leave you, you wish you could understand And death is near and imminent, the bones within the land. Tell Us the Story 5-6-06 Mirror, mirror, on the wall You show the hearts and souls of all Mirror, mirror, of the mind Tell us the story of humankind Wings to Fly It was dark, and it was cold and he was all alone in the deep dark night, and the rain just kept pouring down So he looked at a star staring up at the sky but he had a real hard time because both of his feet were on the ground And he wondered, Where do you find the wings to fly? The courage to face an empty sky? What beat do I walk to when the guns drown out the drums? Who do I turn to, when I‘m out of options and time? Where can I find the wings to fly? The wind was cruel and coming fast everybody just walked past and he recognized nobody and nobody seemed to know just who he was so he looked up at the sky but the clouds had come for real and both of his feet were still on the ground Then he asked aloud Where do I find the wings to fly? The courage to face a cold grey sky? For what do I listen when the sounds fade into the night? Was there even an answer out there at any time? Where can I find the wings to fly? Fate Fate pulls the strings Directing here and there Already written out He enacts the rehearsed play And yet, on closer look, The puppet master has strings too Like all things bound into This so-called reality If Justice is blind How much more so, Fate Treading pre-laid courses softly He‘s caught up in his own course Fate‘s own destiny, disguised Walks the paths of men Directing, shaping, and misleading Story‘s course; his, hers, theirs Intertwined, fates and lives One and the same, destiny and chance Free will and the inevitable Together, the same, yet opposites. SKY MIRROR I look up at the sky And see reflected back My face, my world, my life All I have and all I lack All this, while the rainbows dance spinning, flashing, twisting flames I count the stars, slowly, whispering names Every splashing raindrop is music, notes, a song thunder rumbles, lightning smiles …perhaps I knew it all along The mysteries of the smiling sun the deep call of the night impressed forever in my mind almost, not-quite, perfect flight Wings spreading out and up colors dazzle, the smells of life are vibrant, green, strong, real melding into, the richness of night In the stars a thousand worlds exist all out there big, so much, so far… contained, compressed, inside of me— the dream, the fact, the possibility BUTTERFLY LIGHTNING Black, white, green, yellow-gold I am the butterfly in the snow You are the lightning and I am just me I didn’t know, I was too blind to see… I used to think, that life was wide and the streets were made of gold; and I was convinced I had it made thinking the sun would never grow old But then I, I went spinning off into space and learned a few things, about life and death and the power of a saving grace But all the time I was out there I felt something was out of place but I didn't know what, until one day I caught a glimpse of your face— But I'd gotten used to waiting, and I felt invisible. I used to think that truth was free and love was all that really mattered and they told me virtue was a thing of the past but I tried to keep holding fast. But then I, I left as the gilded door swung open and I learned a few things, and changed my mind, over and over about everything Then one day, I came back to earth and I just floated in the breeze just looking around, until I saw a shadow of what I'd missed— But I'd gotten used to waiting, and I felt invisible. So I stood aside that day and I watched you go by and for a moment there, I was almost sorry to be a butterfly because I saw-- you were the lightning, the voice in the rain the shadow dancing beside me-- you were the laughter of a roaring sea you had those eyes that were fathoms deep you were comfort, danger, love-- and I passed it up. You see—I am just a butterfly free in the wind, and flying—and I heard the thunder and I felt the sun, and I wanted to soar with the lightning ...but I was too afraid. …Black, white, green, yellow-gold I was the butterfly too fragile to hold I needed time, and now it’s too late… Unless he might come back someday ―Rebellion‖ 2-5-07 What the hell do you care? Gods so far above it all Looking down from your pearled thrones. Like it matters to you. Did you ever suffer Did you ever fear Were you ever me Add another player to the board Another side to the dice And let me roll this time It‘s time man had a say In the destiny of Fate No blood ever pooled On your glass floor But now the shards of breaking glass Sound like gunshot And will ring in your ears With an echo of a dice roll Your time is up. Game on. Heart Scene 2-17-07 I sighed, what dreary weather The sky is so grey and the raindrops fall as though God is crying; And how the grass is soggy! green stems turned to mush beneath big boots. But this poetic, practical observation met only with strange looks and my fellow tram riders edging farther away, stepping out at their stops with no notice for the thunder and lightning cracking over their heads. But perhaps more strangely they were not wet. And as this strange dichotomy came to my preoccupied, unwilling, morose attention, I saw suddenly with double vision The world outside the desolate kingdom of my heart But though I saw the birds and sensed the sun I could not yet hear their song or touch that radiant warmth collaboration poem – first stanza – 2-17-07 (on its own – Evening Echoes) Swings swung, back and forth rhythmic squeaking in the dusk where the echoes of children sit in the cold dips of plastic seats on chains hung from the sky The Watching Eyes 2-18-07 I am a pair of eyes watching in the night I am invisible floating soft and white I am a pair of eyes watching you tonight Because watching's all I am for doing never turns out right I am a pair of eyes floating in the dark I am the watching sight I am the watching night What Does Happiness Feel Like? Part Two 2-18-07 "What does happiness feel like?" he asked solemn like for a second time. This was on a different day a different time a later conversation. She was silent for a long time and many shadows covered the stars before she finally answered, with an inaudible sigh, "I'm sorry, but, I don't remember, anymore." The wind oppressed the stalks of grass about them, the broad trees were far away. And the night was dark and wide and empty. Eighteen Years 2-19-07 For eighteen years I‘ve been alive and walking on this earth For eighteen years I‘ve told my tale and been me since my birth For eighteen years I‘ve laughed aloud and cried when I was sad For eighteen years I‘ve read and thought and learned the good from bad For eighteen years I‘ve stood my ground and fought back when I was hurt For eighteen years I‘ve lent a hand and tried to help the down and out For eighteen years I've seen the trials and tried to do my best For eighteen years I've done what i could and tried to pray about the rest For eighteen years I've slept in late and stayed up late at night For eighteen years I've loved the moon and rejoiced in gold sunlight For eighteen years I‘ve loved my friends and stayed close to family For eighteen years I've known a broken heart and tried to forgive my enemies For eighteen years I've had joy and peace and solitude For eighteen years I've loved the feeling of standing in a crowd For eighteen years I've been alive and living as hard as I can and I swear I'll live a few decades more In this adventure, my grand last stand A Dream In My Eye 2-18-07 I woke up this morning with a dream in my eye I thought of you and I wanted to cry The distance of time and the lulls of the sea Aren‘t strong enough yet to make a difference for me Perceptions are changeful and nothing‘s the same Conclusions now different then when endings first came I felt that the light shone on me from above Until I remembered the heartache of love When all the life‘s over and the course truly run Will my soul wake in peace and justice be done? Good Night (demons, part two) 2-20-07 sleeping through the calling demons is a harrowing adventure but if demonic laughter wakes me at least i know i'm still alive and when the nightmares touch my sleeping and demons through the dark are creeping and my soul is fairly weeping with the injustice of it all then i know that i'm surviving because i'm told that life is pain and for every tear that falls and for every silent call there's a ledger somewhere adding an accountant somewhere counting who will measure out the justice in the end sleeping through the calling demons is a harrowing adventure but if demonic laughter wakes me at least i know i'm still alive and when my tears have soaked my face and there is darkness in this place and i'm alone in darkened grace wondering how i can be saved then i know it's almost morning because i'm told its darkest before dawn and for every saddened thought and every hope that comes to naught there's another day that's dawning where the sun is fairly shining if only i can make it through the night sleeping through the calling demons is a harrowing adventure but if demonic laughter wakes me at least i know i'm still alive i go to sleep to wake again and die so i can live again good night, good night adventure waits the pain says i'm alive good night, good night the demons call good night, good bye, good night Shadows of the Past 2-20-07 they find me on my own when i'm alone and surround me ring of bullies. i'm lonely in their company but they do not like to leave they seem to think i can't be happy without their gloomy presence. sitting all alone in the empty playground they seek me out on the merry go round. we sit in somber silence and watch the shadowed clouds go by. everything is grey in their midst. and muted like a going deaf like a tv on nearly silent like bees in fear cartoonish, the world spins on but we are stopped silent still and stale inside watching each other like mirrors like windows like eyes seeing and unseeing. i told them once but they do not listen. and they do not leave because i cannot yet decipher what it is they are trying to tell me. Unplugged 2-20-07 unplugging cords unwinding noise from gadgets stopping. strange echoey silence instead. blinds open. a new kind of light filters through. pale but heavenly. pale faces with blinking eyes are suddenly wondering with newly innocent eyes. out of the shell and into the world. a reawakening. a freedom. the computer will stay off tomorrow. no. 2-21-07 she sits in a cold sterile room with white all around in one of those thin nightgowns and she stares at the wall. life passes her by. the sunshine does not move her nor do the clouds. how, we wonder. how can she let herself sit that way. i saw you your picture tonight. i read your words. the raw wire nerves are pinching and all buffering layers all sense of time and place are stripped away. the sound her soul makes becomes the look on my face. maybe if i sit still enough the shredding ripping anguish the scream will not break free. your crime my punishment the sentence? there is a moment where there are no words and even the scream runs out of air the moment frozen grips. i sit in sterility unseeing focused on not letting go the edges of me that must be so tightly held together or shred forever in finality. as you have already cut through my heart. this is it, isn't it. it's all over for me. what is left to say? Pure and Complete 2-22-07 ―Pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy‖ – Tolstoy Some feelings remain and they are obstinate the ones refusing to be dealt with as surely as we can't stop the sky from crying or the sun from shining. do not remind me what i saw before the taught heartstrings, the butterfly wings, the glory the urge to vomit are the same. the words alone are different, having changed, moved on, grown up. perhaps one day i will (have the courage to) (be able to) follow them. before the falling ice obscures the melting snow prints Two 2-24-07 i feel like the cadaver lying on the marble slab staring with blank eyes up to the ceiling vaulted, white almost wondering, in expression just kind of here everything is on the inside out, where there is seeing, i am silent and they draw their own conclusions or ignore me entirely but visions of what was and what once could have happened and what perhaps would or will be dance a conga line inside my head with frozen expressions and eyes filled with fear. i am the cadaver lying on the marble slab but i almost feel as warm and lifelike as the ghost pale face at the window imagining it is me. When the Lights Go Out 2-27-07 where will you be, when the lights go out? and what will you see, in the dark? and who will you reach for when the voices begin to whisper? what will you hear, in the echoing silent dark? when the lights go out and leave you frozen mid syllable prone and prey to the grasping gasping winds? who will answer your hesitant calls if you dare to call when the lights go out? how long will you last in the dark on your own unprepared when the lights go out? Fight Song 2-27-07 I'm a fighter a survivor and I'm not going to quit I'm a fighter a survivor and I am going to win you can't beat me and you can't reach me you can't touch me-- because I will fight to the end and I will outlast you I have got what it takes I'm a fighter a survivor and I will not back down I'm a fighter a survivor and I will stand my ground you can't hurt me and you can't get me you can't ruin me because I will fight to the end and I will triumph over this I am strong I'm a fighter a survivor and I will not back down I'm a fighter a survivor and I will stand my ground I'll live to fight another day learn to win in different ways your betrayal's not the end I am my own best friend my knight in shining armor I will fight I will survive I've seen the light and I'm coming home to it tonight I'm a fighter, a survivor I'm a woman--what did you expect? I'm a fighter, a survivor, and I will not back down-- I'm a fighter, a survivor, and I will stand my ground. Collaboration poem (1st and 3rd stanzas mine) finished 2-28-07 Swings swung, back and forth rhythmic squeaking in the dusk where the echoes of children sit in the cold dips of plastic seats on chains hung from the sky The old wooden slide embedded in the surface of the earth stands in irreparable disuse a round of dirt, kicked up from feet past residing at the one slanted end Off to the side, in shade and night, the merry-go-round resting, lopsided, blurred about the edges like melted dreams, stars shine from above do the echoes laugh or is the ground giving up its memories? An image in the sand the carvings of forgotten love in the stump of a tree the echoes fade and all is silent once more something? Collab? Finish on own? w/e. need know – What Comes Next? Under the cloud at the end of the sunset behind the wild blue sky beyond the fantasia and endless expanses of rollicking rocking blue sea flowing by I discovered the end of the end of the stars of the music and notes and the song where the words ran out and the universe stopped and everything there in its place—belonged Pink (edited ‗singles‘ awareness day‘) 3-7-07 The chocolate in the store was enticing wrapped in its pretty pink bows, and probably sweet. But I felt bitter, looking on, and only flushed pink with shame; How rudely those pink shoppers stared! The flowers on the side of the highway seemed to share my sorrow at this public exposure of singleness, drooping, as though with heavy rain, despite the bright pinks and golds of the morning light. But the gnomes on those neatly manicured lawns of the happy couples‘ homes seemed to glare and jeer as I drove by. Laughing at my misfortune in their stone and clay way, with sightless eyes. Sightless as I was, once, when I thought I understood this day of pink. A lost kite flew by overhead as I rested my head on my arm on the open window edge, paused at a red light - pink, just for today, just for me. I heard the kite‘s child scream; wild primal wail of loss and rejection of anguish, and, internally, I sympathized… but felt bored. What is it to them after all, I wonder, if I, alone of all, stand alone, on this day or any other? So it is a day of pink. So what? See how they cling together! What are they so afraid of? And why must they make me afraid as well? I am the Valentine's Humbug, I muse, as I pull into my parking space. I am picketing, I imagine, with my Down With Singles Awareness Day sign, parading around with my still-healing heart on my sleeve, for all to see—but, brighter, higher, fiercer, my mischievous grin. I am brave, and free, I think; I alone dare to stand on my own…. Next year, perhaps, next year, to teach those ooh and aahing lovers over there a thing or two about pink and hearts, and how the former oozes from the latter when sweet intoxicating love turns sour, and makes you sick… If, that is, I even care to remember at all by then. I know I do not care to today. Today I am busy; busy being content, alone and at peace, content just to be single—I always did like breaking all the rules. I am not alone, I want to tell them. I am, alone, unafraid of and on today, and of the Pink that fills it. I never looked good in pink anyway. But although it is not my color— Neither, I remind them, and myself, am I blue. Burning Bridges (edited) 3-7-07 Standing in the rain smoking torch in one hand Hair plastered down, and wind whipping straight through my body facing the oncoming darkness thunder, muted, silent lightning form the backdrop of the battlefield silent, distant, too-orange fire tongues eating up the sky cracking, falling, caving in down under the fragile, fragile wood into the dark and silent rushing river waters… bridges are burning, in the heart of the night watching the devouring flames of my heart burn away the fluff the framework into nothingness the last ties to what once was and remembering, standing on that same bridge in a different season when it looked so long, so promising so inviting, and remembering trying to cross it again uncertain at first whether my feet still hung above the firmament held up by deceptively steady beams or trod on solid ground… perhaps after all this is nothing more than the echo of a dream burning in the harsh daylight of an intruding external reality. Afternoon 3-9-07 clouds tumbled across the sky like children falling over one another, pulling hair and beribboned clothes laughing with breathless giggles like the falling wind the world brightened for a moment the sunny glory of their happiness shining through them like brilliant pearls of lustrous hue and when they had passed the world seemed a little darker and a little let down, down below, amongst the cool and somber ground, far from even the echoes of their carefree revels a second collaboration poem –Nowhere Returning (first and last stanzas mine) Under the cloud at the end of the sunset behind the wild blue sky beyond the fantasia and endless expanses of rollicking rocking blue sea flowing by Masqueraders spring a promenade around Saturn‘s rings Seraphs and celestial beings sing the songs of forgotten kings A place where worlds begin But even further in Deep space raps its fingernails, inertia kicks back its tail Stars crash, titans clash in the nowhere returning gale God works his will But even further still You can see the end of the end of the stars of the music and notes and the song where the words ran out and the universe stopped and everything there in its place—belonged Come 3-9-07 i'm tired of the sadness dissatisfied with melancholy it's true, and true blue, is old and tired--faded. there is something in my soul which i do not understand and which worries me but maybe if i can find a new way a new method a new something that is not faded all will be well again. and a new happiness a new truth a new being will explode within me with all subtlety of a thunderclap bold and expectant. what am i trying to say? when i can say it what i am trying to describe will perhaps have already come to pass. Picture 3-9-07 picture this a tall tree standing still in the gale picture me undignified but trying for perfection picture you standing arms loose at your sides wispy waiting watching blankly; waiting, undone... what, and which? is this a reflection or a window? picture me picturing, and— wonder;. Captivated (Tiddlywinks) 3-9-07 captivated by ages gone by captivated watching and longing to be a part of that glory captivated by a different sense of life captivated dreaming yourself into that era wishing yourself into that feeling captivated by what was captivated by what should be now captivated dancing, soul alone, to the silent echoes of grandeur faded into past years and forgotten music Art 3-9-07 anything i do great i do by accident stumbling across a gem i do not recognize for value until someone else points it out. i am no artist. as with music it is all--touch and go. she told me i was better than "reactionary". but am i? so much is uncertain and all to me seems so very transient not least the definitions of among other things Art. Of Course 3-9-07 the repetitive motion of the lens falling out of the frame a loss of perspective seemed to me the unacknowledged essence of life. even i didn't care. i put it back in noticing the screw was not merely loose but missing and went on my way. what, after all, does it matter? do we seem bleak? do we seem hopeless and helpless and stupid? (and by we i mean i, of course) then what is the reality? if everyone disagrees, which of course they do. vehemently. of course. it seems like nothing makes sense unless the (to me) so-tired phrase of idea of the opposites together all being the truth is indeed true. reactionary? (of course)(?) well what isn't? this is all part of that new unexplained sometimes worrisome event in my soul and feeling in my chest. of course. forget, go on? i both cannot and do. ahh, you opposites. how i've come to hate you. of course, they're right. and wrong. and so forth. and so on. because... we do not have the words. or at any rate i don't. no appropriate ending? how appropriately inappropriate. or something like that. of course. Silly Monster 3-9-07 a change is taking place a change i cannot define a worrisome change for better or worse? a change. the old styles are falling away and leaving... what in their place? something, or nothing? i wonder. something is either happening or a non-happening is (not) happening but which it is i hesitate to say my words so often belie what truly comes to pass. so many double meanings but not in the sense of before. am i looking for something different or something new? i won that one round. just one. was it enough? bah. surely i must give up. there is no metaphor that engages me now. my contempt has been awakened silly monster it thinks it deserves to be fed. recurrences... recurrences. reverberations, in the mind. i worried i was out of words. but apparently, for the moment, i am (once again) proved wrong. so many past identities. what is this? a treatise on self, or a poem? if a poem is universal as well as personal where is the line drawn? and how can we (and by we i mean i) survive the failure that is nothing short of success failed? i know what i mean but what does it and what do i mean to you or anyone else? i ask questions because they bother me probing like a tongue at a sore tooth because i am horrified at what is unearthing in myself. silly monster it thinks it deserves a stroll in the park i have fallen so often am i growing immune? the past is not what it once was and the future is more confused than ever my perception is forever altered and i cannot get my bearings can i bear to see my words twisted? can i bear to call them my own? silly monster it appears to think it is a beloved pet. silly monsters. we, who think we are human beings. (and by we i mean i.) what are we after all? The Lazy Beast 3-9-07 laziness, lazy resting in my chair and it's baring yellow teeth in a crooked smile there swallowing me, surrounding curious, probing, detached but involved nonetheless and being oh so lazy. laziness, lazy my fingers twisting absently in my hair and it's petting the prisoner with stiff hands in the crying, wailing lair Puzzled? 3-9-07 i feel constantly a sense of could've-done-more endless possibilities lined up there on the green tiled floor passed by, unheeded but distantly heard their calling hailings muffled by the trailing out-of-it senses rhyming, writing, reading, breathing what is there to it? a growing awareness has grown on me but still i feel constantly the wavering hesitant presence of missed possibilities like they are locked away somewhere inside of me a place to which even i do not have or have somehow lost the key i wish i felt constantly but instead i feel constantly only the would-be's of something that is either mine and still shrouded in mysterious or not mine that some force whether benign or malevolent would have me overtake i will either wilt or burst but which will come first i do not know. It doesn‘t work 3-9-07 certain words fit by association but not in essence and so nothing comes across as it should because the words have failed in meaning and application. About the Author (February 2007 sometime) I'm me I'm you I'm old I'm new I'm here I'm there I'm gone I'm where I'm me I'm you I'm lies I'm truth I am I'm not I'm free I'm caught I'm here I'm there I'm ev ry where I'm out I'm down I'm smi les now I'm me I'm you I'm done It's true Once Upon a Forever 3-10-07 wide, green, endless days stretching out as endless possibilities, fireball sunrises and melted, gooey colors painting the world clear blue skies with white wrinkly clouds big puffy rumpled rugs on God's glass floor coming and going and drifting, together or in one lone singality the scent of heat, baking earth rises from the ground, where bare feet are planted solidly as the roots of broad, deep breathing trees about you. relaxation melting with running trickles of honest hard-earned perspiration into lapping blue waves. floating on a perfectly peaceful, happy wind air currents lifting and twirling invisible ballerinas, carrying you along fresh crunchy vegetables with staining juice running down chins and between fingers dirty elbows knees and toes young foals frolicking and kittens timidly exploring yapping puppies too full of the world to stop before running into you or the barn wall and the flowers! everywhere, blue, yellow, gold, purple, orange scenting the world one blossoming petal at a time carpeting, bending and swaying, watching and smiling in indulgent understanding oh, and the coming rains-- bursting with exploding thunderclaps pelting down, rain droplet paratroopers eager to hit and all in good fun drenching the climber at the top of the swaying, laughing tree soaked and calm and rejoicing dark shadows comforting, shh-ing, tucking in the blankets around everyone and turning out the lights, one by one, as the great and golden shades fade, sleepily, into the gentle folds of dark purple night. and one by one the tiny nightlights wink into existence watching over a world at rest smiling and kind and gentle in their infinite wisdom and compassion serenaded from below by a chorus of conspiratorial musicians telling the night what they know and reminding the sleepers and the pretend-sleepers, watching with wide young eyes the rising of the great silver sphere of bright colored shadow-light, what they will know tomorrow. Song (long time ago.) Somehow for all my thinking I can't seem to decide Just what it truly is That‘s running through my mind Running from the demons that only I can see in the end will I be one of them? But then who will be me? Wisdom Teeth (New Acquaintances) 3-13-07 today i sat down in a chair where they tilted my head back and i heard the metallic beeping representing the pounding, irregular pounding, of my heart. i woke up several hours later with a block where my mouth used to be dumb and numb to the roots. if only it were that easy i muse stuffing gauze into my cheeks and hoping the bleeding has stopped if only it were that easy to remove the problem spots in your world and heal them with a trickle of bad tasting medicine a cold ice pack in cloth swatches of gauze, internal band aids i pause. i rest. i drink my water avoid solid foods and check my email. new beginnings, i muse watching those curious words on the screen. my ability to turn molehills into mountains seems to have diminished. i'm not all excited for once. but in thinking about new beginnings perhaps if i don't wish too hard or try too much this will be good for me. a new adventure fresh faces and brand new minds to meet. forget the twin pains in my jaw. what could be more important than this smile-inducing music playing in my ears and these curious words on the screen?
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"Originally written probably sometime in the seventh grade"Please download to view full document