rude awakenings

So I'm meeting someone new tomorrow. I'm scared shitless. He's an interesting person, to say the least. He's brash, arrogant and one of the best artists I've seen. He spends all his time doing nothing, sleeping and vegging out I suppose. He seems like a nice guy, I think. He told me he didn't have many friends And a lot of free time. This is the first stranger I'll be meeting, And if anyone knows me, they know I'm not a very outgoing person at first. I don't have a clue what will come of this, I've gone from thinking he likes me to thinking he's making a joke of me many times over. I drunkenly told him I'd be his friend last night, And I have to keep my promise. I'm just scared. Obviously I must be worth something in his eyes, He seems the elitist type, only choosing to talk to a select few I know I've already exceeded his expectations, But even the strongest of foundations can crumble and fall instantaneously. If there's just

A naked love. The secret youth of two anonymous bodies To me they are well matched in symmetry construed from words I read Congruous edges in pale hues of buff, or a pale peach. Dull eyes that fill with misconceptions transcending ideas that don't match up. Your hollow vessels carry the weight of preconceptions. Fill you with my experiences when I read a common word You say love, I fill you with my images of love. with my touch, my remembrance. You are kept alive with my yesterday. You are an image, pasted with dull color and deep like an urn and I dump my ashes of dead feelings there. But, in your cheeks and bitten lips, there is color that no amount of grey dust can kill. Your eyes are blue clear like sky, like the forever in your soul. I see your pictures the monochromatic image you've painted, Not only of pixelated profiles but layers underneath words. And the words beneath the layers, That reveal a broken frame once you let the world take you under. bones twist beneath th

The world cuts a deep scar that betrays your tongue up your sleeve. A sentence you're saving for later. Dont try and save me from yourself you're only damning us both. From heavy beginnings You walk forward slowly. Dragging your palms across the badlands to keep your world spinning Always wanting to see the other side the corners of youth and crevices of smiles. Like A young puppy staring out at the night through a window wondering.

Like a staring contest with a one eyed lazer sullen cardboard eyes darkly brightened screen. Wearing the paint thin with my restless fingers and heart As soon as I walk away the phone buzzes. not like how it was before where I'd pick it up fractions of a second before an incoming alert. but no one can text that often for I pick it up on each silly whim. Always half waiting for your words to come back but you're too far away and I've lost them.

I want to write again. Write as myself and not as those artists the slammers, the blessed ones. The shoes I'll never fit yet in a misguided stupor high off the feelings in their words I put pen to paper and scribble out silly notions, no revising, no revisiting. Just writing, in abandon silly phrases I know nothing of. Using my elbows to shove my way into admiration of strangers I know nothing of except they have come to this room to hear words. And I bombard them with my own attempting to validate my petty dreams My vanity alive in my words and my performance. God I sound dumb. Poetry readings have changed my life. How, not really sure yet. [i just dont want to end up like rene. no offence bud]

I have no true touching stories behind my words. no metaphores to my poetry, no alliterations or hyperbolies or adjectives. no synonyms no thesauruses for my phrases. just a hand full of letters and commas, maybe an exclamat!on mark or a sem; colon thrown in the mix. just these bland back bone,, baritone, monotone, monochrome black and white photocopies of ideas and emotions. just these indentations before the paragraphs, the page numbers the blank canvas whites and the pre-dawn blacks, that halt before the steep slide, the drop on a rollercoaster ride. the primer, DNA polymerase, the enzymes, the catalists. the lag time as the heater in the car warms up, the speed-walk of the last 50 yards before you walk into a nice warm house. The I dont know, and the everything. before the everything. the possibility, the potential. the everything-you-need. the everything, but the nothing. because words are just words. theyre lifeless and cold, but with the voice that they're carried on, the fl

i had the best dream last night. I was at my cabin with everyone that I loved. It was a wee mix between maekelburger village and my cabin, and my whole family was there Krista's family was all there, as well as petra and Marysia. It started off with being in a department store of fancy dresses and there were these really mean teenagers all prissy who were working there and my friend somehow stole one of the girls dresses and it was really funny. And then suddenly we were at a lake and we had this raft and we were saving certain animal from this really giant leech and we tried so hard to get this animal up onto the raft because we weren't sure if it was normally a water animal or a land animal. We finally got it out and it said thank you but then it went back in the water because it belongs in the water and it distracted the leach for us so that we could cross to this cliff down the lake. So when we got to this cliff, I know had been there before it was filled with huge semiprec

it breaks my heart. I picked up the phone already knowing who I'd hear. Already knowing my dad would answer And I had no real place. I waited till the ringing stopped dead. Heard a muffled and tired hello from his room in the basement below. I held the phone up to my ear and could only endure a few seconds a broken spirit behind a strained voice The voice of a defeated soul unappreciated and alone in a prison of her own flesh and blood in close proximity all pulled tight like guitar strings along a neck with the name 'moving day' but this instrument of sorrow offers no music only a harsh mash up of voices all screaming for their own supremacy. And I see her wire of sanity being pulled and pulled some more I can hear the tremors of her voice about to break. she's about to break.

http://lovealittlemore.tumblr.com/

This is a new language. A new way of viewing Were I can observe the beauty of paint chipped cement floors which peal away in gold flakes. Where the poetry lifts you up into a music video in your mind drawn on gray cement sidewalk blocks with green and pink and yellow sticks of chalk. And this car pulls you up out a road in your spine with seat belts of sand and once upon a time. pulling you upwards but there's never any end, it's a spinning transition that turns and turns again. There's nothing really new just looking with new eyes, new view. It is this trip that makes you want to stay up all night, lighting candles and incense and just write. On the walls, on the door in charcoal and chalk, some complex dialogue with your deep inner thoughts. And to sit and recite poetry in your shower. why? God knows. God knows how long it's been since we've been sitting here, two or four hours? And here we go again with these categories and, his definitions mass conclusions stall

I am so afraid. my reality, the foundation's built by years of this society, following blindly and simply, and happily. Have been shaken I went to a slam. I heard The most amazing poetry ever. The most inspiring reader. Everything she said made sense. And I went home and I wrote. and wrote. And I was no longer in the world I grew up in But I was. But it was different slightly altered. It was on the level of energy Instead of purely physical it was intangible, no borders, everything flowed together And I wrote for hours. In my illegible chicken scratch In my notebook for poetry. I was running on tracks of other-worldly inspiration Frightening. Because I didn't know if I could believe anything of my past I didn't know what was real or what that word even meant. What anything meant. And now, I've gone back between the layers of shelter of the modernist society but I have traces still embeded in my brain of this other world. this other dimension. Je n'ai aucune idee quo

I don't want to follow you anymore. I don't want to hear it. Read it, feel the loneliness mixed impeccably with jealousy in a Molotov cocktail and thrown in a window in my brain. Explodes with each compacted memory I'd stored away in hibernation. When I am without memories I am happy. No relativity to define me.

All romantics meet the same fate some day, cynical and drunk, and boring someone in some dark cafe Wouldn't it be great, that perfect soulmate who offers a permanent release? Wouldn't it be fun, two souls fused as one, and living in joy and in peace? I know that I'm young And I've only begun but I've got 2 years already under my belt And all that I've gained was two years of pain you wouldn't believe the shit that I've felt. I said it was love, that was sent from above! Oh, what a fool was I. I just thought that pain was part of the game And it was perfectly normal to cry. But the tears they kept flowing, Showing no signs of slowing, Throwing my resolve all askew. And the truth began showing through the tears, still ongoing I was now knowing what I had to do. So now, my friends, I'll skip ahead to the end, You all know how this chapter goes Harsh words were spoken, two hearts now left broken, As I'm sure that most of you know. So now you may see

I have always been fascinated with the human body, but more so the female body. I think of it as beautiful and artistic. Ever since I was young I'd been subjected to the naked female form. Swimming pool showers and older women walking nude. Being taboo, my friends would all be so scarred and afraid to look. But I'd been subjected to it at a young age, and grew accustomed. Being around women who weren't ashamed to be exposed opened my eyes, and gave me an appreciation for this work of art hung in flesh. And so I find that drawings and paitings of naked women are just so beautiful. I can't explain it more than that. There's nothing much more beautiful than a women who isn't afraid or ashamed of her body. [from rue des images ]

So if you've heard of dragon naturally speaking you may understand this. this is me reading my poem 'good enough' ( a few blogs down) into the program and this is what it decided to show up as. needless to say i need to enunciate more. Shadow down and I to the edition was printed on the and I caught the image that was printed on at each price between us. Aware that your heavy and reluctant hanging onto the tissues of my mind the first thinkers I to phrases but for all the effort getting a list by shoulder gets the door to keep them in Rio the blinders they've just because I didn't want to hurt and need to see the destruction related by wake the razor blade to silence the Eagles in.hello to you by as I sped off I don't see because I turned my back. Out of sight out of mind but I do said it yours and take steely God's wide. I've are poised at you. Because I turned my back. And I tore it down I read you up and I thank you to the. And I read search for those

Well, tomorrow I suppose, in all officiality, but for me, tonight was the last I'd ever see of him. Plane leaves at 9 something tomorrow morning, and he's off on an adventure of a lifetime, or something very close. I never knew how I'd react and I didn't put much thought into it until I had to. Until I was standing there, with my hand still lingering on the front door as I watched him walk down my front steps and to the awaiting car. I felt the welling emotion and I knew it bore no good. I walked to the window seat and watched the car drive away. Watched the boy I'd almost fell in love with drive out of my life. I broke down in muffled sobs, spilling forth from a pain I never thought I'd feel for him. I saw in the reflection of the window my mother coming up behind me slowly, and she sat beside me and put her arms around me and let me cry into them. The tears pushed forth in a stronger wave of outpouring as I toyed with the thought of never having his arms aroun

A picture, where the smiles lay frozen forever. A crystalline memory preserved. That moment, unexisting, but held on that sheen of photography paper Clear as day grasped in kodachrome forever. A memory. Looking back, I always feel invisible, Not-quite-there. A picture A cage for those forgottens trudging those feelings back pulling them forth from that abyss of blurred pasts once again. Neurological brain cell pathways Axons, synapses, terminals. when the pathways worn down a memory remains When the path degrades All is forgotten But curious, How a scent, a song, how an old trinket can bring it all rushing back

Down down down, here we go again. Spinning down the vile pit of despair. Pathetic and lowly and despicable. That weakness has got a strong grasp, fingers tight on my collar, gathering the fabric and wrenching me forward. An irresistable despair, I dig my pit further. Broken cardboard hearts, torn from the sheet of the morning and spoiled in life's darkly decay. That silly seed of emotion turned into a creeping vine, I am consumed. The purpley clouds on the horizon breaking over the clear blueness of early morning skies. My body's out of tune with that song I once had sung. Unstrung and useless, I sit, stewing, stubborn and weak.

Bang bang, he shot me down. With the gun that I handed him. A relationship full of potential energy, wasted as heat dissipation. The end. And all the energy lost as heat and thrown to the dismal world outside our windows. We've done our part in erroding the universe. All the Lost words never spoken, lack of touch lack of movement, lack of meaning. So many possibilites for the energy between us but we let it waste away with trepidation. I wanted you to use me. I wanted to be used, I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be better than her, somehow.

There's caffeine running solely through my veins, the acrid tastes thick on my tongue wont go away. the fingers perched above the keyboard twitch and shake with false adrenaline. I can't make it recede. my leg is tap tap tapping my thumbs putting out a beat on the spacebar Caffeine train pulling my mind on a tangent away from the work I should be doing. lolling about in a feild of nothing while i struggle to reel it back in but my arms shake with an overload and my stomach churns unhappily. Three cups may have been to much. With heaping spoonfuls of the shoddy instant variety. Could have made the real deal but the coffe machine would wake everyone. 6am, and no one would be happy with me. So i watched the brown grinds dissolve in my thermos and proceded to run for the bus. xxx Where is my old style? It's been replaced with strangeness unfamiliar and frightening I have lost myself in another again. I've moved to new mind sets I've lost my style along the way. Or may

I've looked at love from both sides now. The ends too similar to bear. Yet nothing of great consequence Barely merriting a poetic phrase. Please understand I never had a secret chart to get to the heart of this or any other matter. I took wrong turn. You were a mere brush against my side. This love is a sordid affair. The dampening tones, these weary blues. And I find my age and experience gives me away to the stereotype. my words are self indulgent and misguided. Yet I cant make myself write anything more. I 've entrenched myself within my emotions.

You are a shadow now. And I can't conjure the image that was printed on my eyelids after each breath between us. The words I draw are heavy and reluctant, hanging onto the tissues of my mind with tiny frozen fingers. I feel I need to put you to phrases. But I've thrown all my effort into forgetting it all. Pushed my shoulder against the door to keep your memory out. Put the blinders made of distance up because I didn't want to hurt. I didn't need to see the destruction lain in my wake, the razor blades of silence, pins and needles of new love. You're numb and alone and So thick in my dust as I sped off that I don't see you. Because I turned my back. Out of sight, out of my mind, but I know I sat in yours, fermenting, stewing in God knows what. And I've rooted a poison in you. because I turned my back. And I tore you down, I ripped you up and sent you to the wind. And I have searched for those fragments but the time has snatched them away from me and it serve

I broke you open and drank the fire within that you kept so under control. Licking the flames as they singed my soul but I didn't care, because I had found you. In half shadows you speak in velvet caressing my cheek. I gather you up beneath my fingers, observing how the light dances on every thread of mellifluous skin and marble. Afraid to let go and leave you to the wind. I grasp and the knuckles turning white yet I refuse to be alone again. Every time we meet you offer up your warmth as I fill you with ice. You are fire and I melt in your presence, left as a puddle on a sidewalk and the feet of trepidation scatter me and thin me out. I become the air you breathe and for those few euphoric moments I am within you in every vein and capillary, stretching to each finger tip and moving at the whim of your heart. To be trapped within that frame, if for only an instant, would make my trodden fame worthwhile. I squeeze the moments dry of each possibility because soon you will be gone, wi

Constant Craving. Left Longing for the lack of inhibitions every time we let the spaces grow. Don't want no help, wanna do it on my own. But I know what I'll be doing Wednesday morning before I make your stairs creek. Shame on me.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only converted to other forms. No conversion is ever completely efficient I try and create poetry. But I am not. Poetry is not a complete break, only converting my mind's-eye-visions onto paper. And there is an inevitable loss at hand. Every time, there's fractions and filaments of this broken down feeling that get lost in the wind. Lost through hesitations, however momentary. The inspiration dissipating in the heat expended as my hand lingers, fingers hover. And my works are never whole. Never a complete transition. It's a matter of minimizing the loss, trying to capture as much energy of the mind in the binding paper and phrases. The key lies in keeping the transition quick. It takes an adept soul to channel it easily, efficiently. But no one is ever perfect. And the atmosphere is full of forgotten thoughts that escaped word's vices. Sometimes, when I find myself thick in the cloud of another's lost sentiments, I can pick th

I'm longing for that warmth I left beside you. A holy consumation, Unlike anything. I'm just glad it was all I'd imagined

I loved you in the worning, our kisses deep and warm, my hair upon your pillow, like a sleepy golden storm. Yes many loved before us, I know that we're not new, in city and in forest, they smiled like me an you..But lets not talk of love or chains, or things we can't untie. Your eyes are soft with sorrow, hey, that's no way to say goodbye. A new page has been turned. A bright new seedling has sprouted through the ashes of an old mistake. A new dawn, a new begining. The beautiful bliss when walls are broken down. I can't say too much, can't place these feelings of euphoria into suitable molds that will carry them to poetry. I can't convey the feelings living deep inside. I'm confortable beside you. Doing thing's I've never done, with ease. But there was something lacking. I can't explain it. Always searching too hard, I smother the budding emotion. But I was content regardless. I can't understand why I was so afraid. Why it was so easy. I can

gahhhhh!! Just got back from a poetry reading at balance lounge here in Calgary, and man it was great! I love the wide array of styles and genres and everything at these things, and I love the atmosphere or kind acceptance, it sure helped when I got up to read two of my poems. At first I was so afraid, being a rather shy reserved young lady. But soon I relaxed and got into the depth and safety of my poem, and gained confidence as everything seemed to hush around me as the crowd fell silent and still, as if entranced by my words. I slipped up, messed a word or two around, and my mouth was dry as cotton. I was shaking, but not as much as I had the first time. my voice was stronger, more confidence behind my works. And as that hush lowered down on my audience, I was filled with a curious emotion. They could love me or they could hate me, it didn't really matter, because I'd gathered the confidence and courage to get up and pour my heart out through that mic, and if nothing else I

Silly girls are found amongst the leaves For they must be closer to the green Than other girls And where they hide amid the trees Only reality do they see The lucky ones And if you find one, twiced blessed are you Because with that girl you can be silly too The longing's gone Silly girls are found amongst the leaves How can i ever tire of being in the trees with you? Heavens closer -senor badass

I wonder if you'd ever write a poem about me If I'd ever be your muse Do I have the power strong enough to create, destroy and confuse? Will I leave a lasting impression An image of me trapped in your mind? Will you dream of me, as I of you When you've left me far behind? I often wonder what you are thinking what the hell goes on in your head I'd work up the courage to ask you but I cant, so i'll cry instead I'm so afraid of what'll happen when you're a million miles away a knife in the twisting hand of fate that'll cut me but leave you ok I'm climbing too high the ladder of infatuation the higher you fly the harder you fall I've given my heart for you to borrow And I'm afraid I'll lose it all. It's ok if you love me, if you don't, then that's fine too It doesn't change how I feel inside, the confusions I have about you Your face is so hard to read I can't tell how you really feel Behind all your silly jokes is the

I am the light at the edge of dawn, the pale companion to the more compelling. The almost-grey backdrop of beginings, yeilding the canvas for the brighter shades I am in everthing but only as a shadow. I seek not the attention of the clouds, nor give a siliver lining I exist for others, offering my spine to the footsteps and smiles. I am the frame of the picture Just caught along the edges when focus is upon the centre. I am there before the brightness, pushed out of the way with no complains. I am there for those who chose to listen beyond the edges of the flourished lines. For those who look beyond the mainstage. I don't mind obscurity. I know my worth. I know my place.

check it! passion pitch at balance lounge my first time sharing poetry at a reading, totally nerve-wracked.

We're stuck in stiff air that suffocates and sustains is simultaneously. Equivocal. And I've only just remembered. The lessons from those classes where the teachers are dead or living the same old way, never changing from all those years ago when you stumble upon them in crowded places with blurring faces. Yet it pulls at you, those years are the years that shaped you, they're all you have to look back on. The juvenile smiles, simple living where protection was a mother's arms and her love was all that mattered. Now we're growing up and going out, carving the next chapters in the stonework of our lives. We fly on freedom and feel we're invincible, too big for our bottles we want to break free, flee, be, we want to see the world in undiscovered corners, quickly curling up beneath us and we scramble to smooth it out but it's all rearranging and we grasp to those memories but the faces are all changing and we see it in our eyes that even we are changing. And we

I'm drawn to that somber side. It weakens me with emotional commotion. I want to touch a fragment of your being that none has witnessed. I want too much. An all or none response. An intrinsic desire of perfection, immaculate design. Brought up on a diet of the impecancy of love. I almost know it exists. I'll find you one day. Until I do I'll try and shape the unwary. Fool's errands, but I will pull them as far as they'll stretch to flawlessness. Sanding their edges until they fit as well as they could in that gaping darkness in my soul. I don't know why. So much falls beneath that category. I discover who I am through each soul I have loved. What they bring to me, happiness or scorn, and how I fare.

I hold a disdain but a debt to that distilled drink. The loosener of tongues, the bringer of closeness. Dissolving the barriers of acceptable behavior, the walls I threw around my core have crumbled. I'd never had that experience in quite that way. dont judge me for it. I was broken. I'd had it before, 2 or three strangers, I'll admit. But with you it was better. a blending of two happy worlds. i miss it. Something stewed in anticipation, fermented in the moment of precipice. A mere step towards an ultimate finale but a step none the less. Rum soaked movements, an inebriated magnetism, a pull of carpe diem. The contact was simple, the kisses were ripe with the present. An easy interaction, there was no fear. I loved you in that short fraction of contiguity . Congruous feelings and sentiment. The surroundings fell below us in a cloud of forgotten dust. I glimpsed a sliver of the world beneath your eyes. I'll admit I searched too hard before I found a weakness in your

The pain pushes out a pulsating beat, incapacitating me. I sit, getting lost in this hopeless little screen. Nothing to do but procrastination, delaying, with no real reason for it. My mind turns to a default image of you. I can't explain it. I write endless phrases, a metaphysical conceit I'm not even sure of myself. Unfullfilled dreams, the wish of carpe diem but there's a chain of trepidation around my ankle. I'm accustomed to a different love, a different meaning, joining, dialogue. I'm just another tourist in your bed, looking at the view. I suppose I write to try and decipher it. Telling you in phrases thick with distractions and song, ideas I understand only fractions of. I want to talk to you. But the words find no escape, the pathway's broken from mind to lip, spirit to finger tip. I'm in tumultuous indecision, a feeling of inadequacy. If I push too much my inner darkness upon you, searching for a deeper connection, I'm afraid I'll get a res

It's always cold here, never enough heat never enough light. We're always squinting, our palms running along our arms. We tried to stave the bitterness with hot liquids and closeness but it's all momentary. Constant clanging and crashing, trying to keep these surfaces clean but we're so tired, all the time. Can you feel those arms of dying, they're wrapped around this home comprised of walls and hollow desperation. There's a nagging comfort of solitude tied around my waist the pictures all taunting, past frozen behind glass, hung with wire on nails of time always subjective to gentle torture. It's days like these when I know I've gone nowhere. How can I This establishment, devoted to staying still staying ill, pallid, lacking the sustenance of bliss This is all I've ever known and it's got me knots tied to my fingers, string round my feet, legs, arms, head, strung like a puppet. I can't find happiness. Nobodies fault but mine. x The words mea

A few days ago me and petra went to bowness, to that house where it all began, two years ago, almost to the week. the weather was the same and we felt we were transported back. like nothing had changed in these two years, though everything has. those days made us who we are today. Looking back, we were all so different, so inexperienced, so new. "that house was a house of freedom" i remember writing, after my first night there. that first night was, for lack of a better word, weird. crying by the river, sitting on the swinging bench, running into kaeleigh and ni and diving into those preverbial waters. Sitting in rain's room, strobe light, swords and dragons. All piled on the bed, laughing. Me and petra sneaking to the sex shack, leaving our tags on the floor and walls, the first girls to do so. Stumbling to go sleep on the couch, andrew passed out on the floor, snoring. Not falling asleep, going out and sitting by the river at the break of dawn, alone. A depressive state

electrons protons and neutrons. chemical bonds, elements, macromolecules. lipids proteins carbohydrates. N ucleic acid, DNA, the back bone. Nucleus, cell membrane, mitochondria, cells. tissues, muscles, sinew blood and bone. nerves, synapses, reaction pathways. organs, systems, digestive, pulmonary, cardiac. a brain. occipital, partial, temporal, frontal. ears. eyes. a body. touching seeing hearing tasting smelling. wrapped, tightly bound in skin. walking, talking living breathing. life resting upon a million reactions on atomic levels all the way up to life size. we've cut ourselves into a million pieces, sliced away the thinnest layers, described everything away, packaged the knowledge up into bite sized pieces, categorized, generalized, named and sent out to everyone willing to learn it. memorize, tests and exams, right and wrong answers. chemical equations, scientific reactions, life cycles, reproduction and destruction. We've learnt everything there is to know, fit it

i don't matter when your rage is all you can see. you disregard certain facts and hold too tightly to others, squeezing all their worth out with your one track mind. when the fury takes hold the blinders go up, the breaks disengaged. Runaway train running on rigid tracks of skewed logic taking you on your tangents, bringing you closer to the hight of your explosion. Speeds increase as emotions reach a boiling point. You hold exclusive rights to decorum, no one is justified in their outrageous emotional detonations

The middle aged and bearded men sit on benches, eyes moving along folded news pages . an incessant repertoire of sounds, endless collaboration to drown out silence. sun shines where buildings permit, narrow strips of warmth among cold steel and hard cement. rigid geometry, ninety degree angles. "lets add some curves", eye appeal, but to no avail. the streets will stay dirty, the sun wont shine. cigarette butts, gum spots make steps listless. walking blues. i can't breathe here. choked trees and hung plants. wilted men talk in fast languages, sharing jokes and tired laughter. old women stare off out bus windows in absent minded thought. trains roll by with tired eyes and heavy hearts, rusted wheels and vandalized bodies, sighing with each slow progression. countless empty souls shuffle on, arms dead at their sides, eyes full of blank stares. buskers in doorways, beggars on benches as the brighter faces pass unyielding .

I often wish there'd be someone watching, as I put on my silent show, throwing lights across the rooftops, far below. I wish someone could hear the rhythm inside my head, the words that flow so momentarily, before the spirit's dead. I sometimes wish I knew what is held in store for me, I'm so tired of always looking, want to close my eyes and see. At times I wish the nights weren't so long, weren't cold, wish I could grow out instead of growing old. I fall among the voices, thrown into the air, I dance among lost souls, alive and shining there. My mind keeps falling back, on evenings spent with you, so beautiful and free, so foreign and so new. I don't know how to feel, so shy but still so bold, but with you I feel I'm growing out, never growing old.

I make no sense most of the time. but I write regardless. Alas, just a stubborn poet. I'll carry the river around my shoulders, and moonbeams in my eyes I'll wear a fiery robe, a starlit disguise. I'll wear bark bracelets on my wrists, feathers in my hair walk with a crown of flowers, and they'll call me debonair. If I could curl up within the layers of our multifaceted design Or live out in nothing where the lonely stars do shine. I think that I'd be happy, think that I'd do fine. Or lay beside you baby, with your arms around me tight it simply feels so right

When your medals fuck your strangers, don't it leave you on the empty side? We've both known where to go. Steel casings light and strong silver chains, iron stakes. golden smiles. billion dollar baby, you're a rich man. applause applause, we're all a lost cause. the world is ending. Don't freak out. Let it be. No one's fond on leaving. No one's believing. Everyone in little cubes, fury sings the blues. oil slick, fire pit, I'm sick, I'm ripped. shreds to pieces to ashes to dust, I don't have faith I don't have trust. I'm tired of loving I'm tired of tryin' I'm tired of rhymin', reading and writing. singing brings the blues, nothing seems to keep me high. Everything comes out in a weird mess, the words fall at odd angles, piled among forgotten feelings. I try to fly in reckless abandon, let the words fall where they may but it's all out of sync. A chaotic mess. All is beautiful in chaos? Joni. I hear her words and her t

noises noises noises. Too many voices, ideas, screaming "listen to me" "hear me" "forget the others" each one growing louder, competing. I just want to sit, silently contemplating. let my mind take a trip to an underwater garden, soundless. I would be warm, below the storm. the bussle of life, humming society. it's not far, to the bar, but it's a long road back

Last time we were together, all, like that, the world was younger and so were we. younger, innocent, all so different yet so very similar. All filled with the corresponding aspirations. Now, a few years later, we'd been pulled back together, just like old times. Yet now we're all growing up, growing apart, becoming Who We Want To Be. With the past as a tool of relativity, I see how far we've all came. Jessica's moved in with her fiance, in a very nice litte house. They'll be happy. Marysia is slowly gaining her independance and the respect she's always deserved from her mother. Vicky's got a car, also gaining respect from her parents. Petra's the same old unchained spirit, but she's becoming more beautiful everyday, mind soul and body. She's on her way to true happiness. And me. I've shed my outer skin, finally let the one who was holding me back go. Things are looking brighter now. I was afraid I was making no progess, but now I see I have.

Will I still be your superman? It's all a game of affections. I win so many but my heart isn't fully submerged in their smiles, not comforted by their warmth. Its as if I'm collecting the hearts of the admiring, hanging them on a wall or wearing them as charms on a bracelet. Each one brings a smile to my face, a happy memory, a flutter of butterflies, but nothing takes my breath away. Its a curious observation, seeing them fall for you. creeping like an ivy vine, so unremarkable, but after a surpassing time you're covered with it, as they explore the depth of your eyes, the shine of your hair in the sunlight, the sound of your laugh. And you find yourself amazed in them as well, gingerly interacting, testing new wings. And you feel your tendrils growing out and intertwining, slowly. Mutual attraction, mass confusion, fear. For what if their admiration outweighs and you find yourself unbalanced, teetering off the edge into madness. I don't want to fall. but I don'

its getting better all the time [can't get no worse] la la la. streaming streams of consciousness no rearranging or editing just the raw first impressions, first words first ideas. who knows what will come out, who cares. they're just words, so easily forgotten or remembered, it all depends on whoever wants what. I don't want anything most of the time. everything can shape me, influence me change me. I let everything under my skin too deep and it seeps in and takes over. mottles the original, the prior. before. before never matters, only in a sense of relativity to chart a certain progress, or lack of. Sometimes nothing seems to be moving forward, or in any direction for that matter. Like I'm stuck in mud, trying so hard to run until my legs give out but they're dragging through tons and tons of substance, feelings, emotions, memories, fears and tribulations. these inhibitions a safety net, soft to fall back on, lest we try too hard to leave everything and end up o

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDhGqgck3oE

And i find comfort in the distorting reality that this drink has on me. how for a few precious moments I can leave the mundane, the normal. yet I feel trapped in the fact it wont last and there's no way to make it last. And a panic to make each little second matter, before I fall back into the normalcies.

I remember she would blame it on hormones. Raging teenaged hormonal imbalances. Silly, when you look at it like that. Only a bunch of chemicals shaping the way we view the day. All the problems seem so inconsequential when only simple molecules are to blame. Not sure what happened, why I woke up in a slump. Nothing to blame, really. These things happen every so often. Maybe there might be something the matter, but what does it matter? In retrospect I'm not the crippled one. I'm not the one who needs help. It's a complicated feeling. That I shouldn't be caught up in my own petty wallowings. That I need to put myself aside because I'm not as important. It's almost comforting, also confusing. It's true but it isn't but I don't even know.

The step was finally taken. And as the dust cloud partially receded the clarity of mind that followed was not welcomed. The gravity of the decision never quite weighed so hard. Here I am, starting a new chapter, alone. No one by my side unconditionally. The aspect of the greater good is so hard to follow, the suffering between now and the end is bitter and unrellenting. A large part of me was lost last night. a part that I never knew belonged to him. Ripped apart, to the deepest tissues of my being. Yet the strength, though nearly a feeble glow, will warm my frozen soul and battered heart.

It's silly. I'm silly. I hate it but I'd rather hate her. I hate that I want to so I hate myself instead. Problem solved.

An ultimate decision of everlasting sacrifices. walking walking, one two three across these barren lands. check it out, these dirtied hands, picking dust from everywhere. I lose myself in each step I take, leaving behind footsteps sodden in lost feelings the water pipe will break soon, I can hear it. Does it matter? matter, mind. master mind. I'm drowning here, in insignificant events unimportant, unenlightening, it seems that all is a circle, no ending. Pulling me back when I thought I'd gone so far. It's a sad truth, my sad truth. one of them, at least. My fashioned reality is an adverse one, my own mind is out to get me. ..It seems. Pull the veil, shed this outer skin, calloused from countless close encounters wrong turns down dark alleys leading nowhere but your own demise. A mental escapade, we've made this world an escamotage, using big words, disguising frail desperation. Deception runs wild as the depression runs deep. Losing hope like water through fingers. Ye

I'm a moon person too. But I'm too caught up in my petty securities and routines to wander the streets at night

The same emotion is rendered every time, a feeling of subtle panic, of hopelessness. Maybe it's only confusion. How can they all be content in their situation? It all looks so hopeless. Yet they put on a facade of indifference, a tough outer layer. I have no desire to crack it, to glimpse the vulnerable inner layers, it doesn't concern me. so i remain transfixed by the hard surface, wondering, but never wanting to know. Everyone's so engrossed in their own lives, bundled in their inner layers, where it's warm and familiar. I'm not comfortable there. I'm despondent , standing in a hallway. Everyone has found a room, a place of solace, yet I am hesitant. My feet are rooted through the hardwood in a callow lack of confidence, merely a feeling of jejune aversion yet it has grown so thick in my soul that the emotion is all I know, all I am comfortable with. I'm sabotaging myself, my mind body and soul. The winds of time are eroding me. I am a hollow vessel,

I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want to be weak for you. It's not your problem, you don't need another one on your back. I don't want to worry you. I just want to be here for you. Be everything you want of me, help you out. I know you need me, I know you want me. And it's been so long, I need to help you. I need to be here for you. For myself. I WANT TO SCREAM AND RIP EVERYTHING APART

une nouvelle recette. 1 tbsp oil in small pot, fry 2 tbsp chopped onion till translucent, crack one egg in, stir. add 1/2 cup cooked rice, a dash of chili powder, garlic powder and sage, continue stirring until egg is fully cooked, add salt and pepper. eat with pita or french bread.

When I thought that we were through thought that you would surely sky-rocket away and I'd watch you fly. And when I thought I was losing you, there you were, slipping a tarnished ring in my pocket, staring into my eyes. whatever will I do?

I have this emptiness in me, this void deep down that i have tried to fill with anything i could, but nothing seems to last. I've filled it, first, with the love of The Beatles, which seemed to work, but eventually faded with new distractions. I've filled it with the friendship, love and lust I've felt for hundreds of people, but in the end everyone leaves and takes the feelings with them. I tried to fill it with the arts, with painting and poetry, but always my standards were too high and I was filled with a seering feeling of failure when I couldn't reach them. Through time everything helped momentarily but everything would fade. Now I know why. The gap, the void in me, was a space reserved for self-love. Time and time again people have told me they loved me, they admired me, they thought I was incredible, selfless, sacrificing. I was so selfless and sacrificing, always putting others before me, that I disregarded myself. I hardly knew myself, and I could not love wha

This is weird. I haven't talked to you in god knows how long, I haven't seem you in 5 days. It's almost like you've disappeared. It doesn't suprise me. What surprises me is that I'm OK with it. Sure it hurts, now and then, but I'm learning, I'm expanding my repertoire. I'm opening my eyes and the view is nice, now that you're not taking up my whole perception. You're still part of me, without a doubt, but things are changing. An I'm not so scared anymore.

Today i went to a poetry reading for my first time. It was beautiful, how an art form can bring so many people together like that. people that I would not assume like that were there, so many generations and lifestyles and characteristics, all there for the beauty of literature and life. A sobering account, a learning experience. The friendly passing of a joint around the little circle, you have some or you don't, it's all the same. Three generations smoing up together, no judgment, no feelings of stupidity or guilt. Just being happy and loving life. The older crowd is more refined, it seems to me. They understood us and appreciated us but to listen to their stories, their experiences, was a welcomed experience. A whole new scene, new people, new convorsations. I was happy there. Reminiscant of my childhood when I would sit and listen absent-mindedly to my parents and their friends. Now I know I should have listened, instead of just wanting to leave all the time. The things the

Maybe, I'm not better than I have to be, They're just worse than they should be.

Today I cleaned the bathroom, including that bathtub. I picked through Nella's puke then cleaned it up. Yesterday I thoroughly cleaned the kitchen and combed the dogs. Does it count for anything? You always want us to do things without asking so I try, but it doesn't seem to matter. Tell me, do you notice? Do you care? If not then I'll stop. I'm just trying to help. Is it working? oh, and Iread your reply.

i'm sorry i left. i was freaked out and i didnt know what to do. sorry.

I really need someone to help me. I've been thrown into this and now I'm finally letting my eyes see cleary. I'm afraid I've dug myself too deep and won't be able to get out when I really need to. It's as if I'd been blind all this time. Last night i re-read a book we'd shared, and I made this all seem so much greater than it really was. Maybe I felt that way then, but now the words seem cheap and meaningless. I laughed at myself for having those silly romanticized notions. So young and inexperienced was I. When looking back I realized how many things I wish had been different. That's not something that helps a relationship, always wanting it to be something better but putting up with it none the less. I was such a silly little girl. So naive and easily swayed. I wrote a fake break-up letter to him as my english diploma personal response. The only fake thing about it was that I wasn't really giving it to him. I meant every word of it, but I still

I'm afraid of depression. I've lost my mother so many times because of it. I don't want to lose you too. I don't want to lose myself.

Simmer me down to the raw emotions, to only the most basic most essential situations. Dont place me in this world, I don't belong, I won't be happy there. Everything's a blur these days. I've almost forgotten who I am. Looking back I'm so confused. And looking ahead I lose the will to go on. Is there any point? I'm searching for an ellusive happiness. I often wonder if those movie directors were on crack, illustrating a rediculously hopeless dream, the luxury of knowing when something is indisputably meant to be, and never having any second thoughts. Those perfect happy smiles a painful poison to me. Some unattainable emotion, event, ending. Good things come to those who wait, though. I'm too young to complain, I just need to do what's right for me now. maybe one day I'll have a story book ending, but my story's just begun.

Alas.. What now? Heartbreaking.. How did this happen? How did I get here, again? Should I have seen this coming? Now all that's left are dead memories A vast repertoire of half-eaten sensations of incomprehensible accents and mannerisms the footsteps I can hear are slowly coming nearer I've slipped from that perfect cloud, now I'm hanging And not sure how I'll get out unscathed and with my sanity Who really knows, who really knew? Who could have claimed to? There aint no instructions here, no predictions or manual and I'm lost Endless.

The flame is slowly dying, I'm really sick of crying. I don't know why I keep trying.

can you feel the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine heavy lungs, a heavy heart yet another sign. the sighing desperation, another dragging day again this endless heartbreaking dismay. I dont really know. Poetry is really hard to write, to rhyme and still convey the words giving them appropriate justice. i want to just write but then i'm droning on and on and no one really cares. they've heard it all before endless times. from me and others. i'm a little boy calling wolf it seems, everytime it's just a false alarm. Here we go again. will this be the time i'm eaten alive by my countless miscalculations. "don't cry hun. Please don't cry. I always find a way out of it. I have in the past and I will again. So don't cry..please.." I don't know what to do anymore. I'm waiting for something that never happens. I'm no instigator. This is...I don't know. This is hard. Really hard.

Love is a scary thing. To give yourself away to someone, putting all your faith that it's not in vain. you never know their motives, nor do they know yours. I've learnt to lie with a strait face and what has it gotten me? An ambiguous life, equivocal nature. A complex web of half truths, with no intention of lying. This life gets to us all, tormented innocence turning cold. I can't believe that love is a splendorous thing, it's hard to imagine, in this disgusting tainted world, a salvation by the name of "love". ' tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. No one wants to be alone in this world. We grapple and cling to a chance at happiness, no matter the price.

I'm sorry. I hate to see you like this But I don't know how to help you. And I don't know what else to say.. I love you. ps. click this it's herb's webpage, scroll down and you'll see your photo and he'd appreciate a comment [scroll to the bottom]

[i always forget what to write.]

it's a beautiful nostalgia, a reminder that life continues, and helps us remember the good old days.

i want to take it slow. i want to cherish every day that our love grows. i don't want to plan for the future, i want to live for today.

It's hard to always hoard our inner feelings. though we try, we know it's wrong and difficult and causes everyone harm in the end. Don't put your thumb in front of the mouth of the hose. the feelings and problems we have need to be let out naturally, we need to take it slow, let it out at constant intervals. If we don't allow them safe passage out, they fester and grow deep down, they keep piling up until they're so close to pouring over. yet the longer we push them down the harder it is to release the pressure. they compac and become harder and heavier, weighing us down so much we need to let them go but they're so rooted they're reluctant to go and we're reluctant to pull them out because we know it will be an unpleasant feat. this is when it gets iffy. we're caught between a rock and a hard place, neither situation seems inviting, yet we know which we have to do. so we procrastinate, we suppose that we can continue on like this "just a littl

I feel you slipping away, am I deluded, is it madness? I feel my heart is tearing, is it just a superficial sadness? Things seem to be changing, maybe it's just me my thoughts are rearanging, I wish that you could see. I feel so far from everything that we once shared from the start I wish I could say I wasn't scared. I feel so empty now, I don't know what to do I should start depending on myself, instead of waiting on you.

everyone has those moments everyone has their days everyone says those things we probably shouldn't say. but no matter what we do no matter what we say there is a bond, there is a love that you can't take away. though we're growing up you'll always be our mother we're still your little girls who love you like no other

I don't want to think about life. life is a neccesary evil. wow. Hello ray of sunshine

Don't give up. I'm only starting to see the gravity of your situation. the extent of your damnation. In short I don't blame you for your frivolous disposition. I blame myself for not being enough to change it. That came out wrong. I can't, nor do I want to, change you. I just wish I was insentive enough to make you wish to change. Or maybe change is non-existant. I want you to grow. You're playing a static and stagnant role whilst I am flourishing and thriving. I know I'm not the same as I was when we were first in love, but the change is amplified relative your inert stance. I've always cared about you, but that too has been altered by the hand of circumstance. I've known countless feelings for you, attachment, love, lust, caring, anguish, concern. I've always felt something for you. Now it's stronger than ever before. No more silly juvenile notions of "love". I care for you like a sister, a mother, a lover, a friend. You say you don&#