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 cause.
Well, I'm apprehensive at best.
We'll see what happens.


I think I'm onto something

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 the weight of words.
beneath the burden from the ashes of yesterday.
You've been fed a poison of hypocrisy.
Sawed open,
etherized patients on slabs of media.
veins alive like wires,
feeding the circuit,
These falsities screaming through your blood.
carving deep undulations
the ripples of broken wings.
Painting a new picture of lost horizons
in awkward vibrancy.
You are a dappled dove living in a kaleidoscope world
struggling to navigate
with ashes up to your knees
the echoes of the dead
running through your head like
flash bulb camera smiles.
Breathe in the dust
moral asphyxiation and
A weakness budding.
And your blood is mixed with cinders and tar
and your steps are heavy
and under the foundation of powder and smog
They sent the sun to show truth
But you have been burnt and blinded by it's glare.

And truth is only a word

a whispered possibility.
but for the subtle creatures it is
the moon, she who offers elucidation.
And in the moonlight your skin is naked
and the erratic world is dipped in silver stars.

But the darks don't last
they fade to dawn
and brings the swirling ashes on.
the piles are getting louder
screams in your ear turn to sawdust
And you sink to a low vibration
once and for all.
and your spirit turns to sand
in a pile among the ashes and lies
your soul sets
with the setting of the sun.
There is no moon tonight
she is mending hearts else where.
and the night is thick.
And the world turns back to day
but the sun has a companion
in unfurling his wings

from the ashes
a phoenix is born



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
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.
A young puppy staring out at the night
through a window

flash flash you green light

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.


The corners of youth

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]


some messed up shiiiz.

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 flow of energy of breath expelled, like the bright-coloured rags of dead leaves on a harsh november breeze that flows like razor blades. but the breath is like a sun ray and dust moats and lilac winds and warm wafting scent of chocolate. Like ohm, like ohmmm...... like alpha and omega, coming home. like a lullaby that lulls the beast to sleep, calm the razor blades made of freeways that rip the stars from their perches. like a warm bed after a cold day, a cold drink after a hot afternoon, it's eating cookie dough, right off of the spoon! like silver clouds moving and exposing the moon, like that jazzy, mellow, crune, like being, like seeing, believing. like everything. and this energetic sound strung round breath with word-beads, in a perfect balance, perfect fit, meets the ears like champagne to a glass, like a lover responding to a kiss...like subtle bliss....maybe. or maybe not. each spin is different, never a story the same, no two thoughts spinning in tandem, no. no, to each their own and onwards. to infitiy and beyond. or maybe just a walk around the block and down the street, a quick run to the corner store. or maybe, nothing at all. maybe a stationary trip, statue of the mind, thoughts carved in marble and gold, silver and cold. but any how, any way, if these cold frame phrases these bland and blank faced words, strung together on breath and on ideas anda common passion or curiosity, if these fragments of raw feeling have turned any keys or opened any doors, counjured even a faint breeze shuffling papers and thoughts...then my words have served their purpose.and the transition is complete, the circle re spun, restrung, but only just begun....maybe....


happy dream :)

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 semiprecious rocks that were unreal and did not look natural but they looked like they belonged there. So I climbed this cliff with Heather while such a Krista petra and dana took another way up to the top of the cliff. On my way I found this little pebbles that were so beautiful, they were 3-D, they were black with bright green in them or blue crisscrosses so I gathered a bunch up to give to petra, because she loved rocks. So we got to the top and we came into this cave like thing where it looked like a scene from the first Harry Potter with the big chess set. It looked like an old abandoned archaeological site. But then the cave turned into an attic and we were looking at old dollhouses until somebody came up and told us to come down for some reason. Maybe it was dinner time. So we went back To our cabin/houseboat thing. My mom was leaving, no everyone was leaving and I was left there alone so I went to my moms room and I found this jewelry box that was full with old photographs and jewelry and letters and I just spent forever looking through it all, until my mom came back and I just made out of her room and time, but she saw me come out but she didn't yell or get mad at me or ask me what I was doing in her room she just smiled and told me come downstairs because we were going swimming. So i went to put on my bathing suit but then I realized actually didn't have a bathing suit, but then suddenly a fire burst out in my room and Amanda's face was in it and she handed me a bathing suit and then the fire disappeared and I was left with a bathing suit. And then I woke up. And when I woke up I felt like it was Christmas just because I was so happy and so excited just to be alive. And it didn't matter that the snow was a foot deep in my yard because the sun was shining through my window.


I want my mommy.

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.



1st draft..

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. Halt these gears running frictionless, you're a cog in this fictitionless [fiction less] definitionless town I call my brain. I know what you say, talk of us that way as if we are the ones insane. As if we are the ones mistaken. we, who sits all day explaining the ways to avoid the path of the mass of forsaken. So where is the border, that connects our world to theirs? Is there a sign we can past we've crossed the fine line into sanity from madness? So Kerry go again with these categories and, these definitions, mass conclusions, stall. It's a circle in itself, all these circles spinning. The electrons, the planets, the universe itself. And these wheels of energy inside a spinning rings of fire that were spinning ever higher. A gasoline choir that sings this song, all night long. Through the centripetal force [a physics term for those who don't know] that pulls us back upon ourselves, the raw emotion pushed in and hardened, in a centrifugal tube like the strands of DNA in biology labs, with white coat clones. Like this DNA in ourselves these hardened raw emotion this ore in darkly shine, is the DNA of our soul the fingerprints of our mind. Here we all are energy compressed humming life creations that is being suppressed in these concrete maze dazes ornate life races with blurred and blank faces the majority on seeing. false idols and chases. Ideas with broken wings are shot down with cold gazes, the bullets of hostile unbelieving, no praises. No faith, no future, no subculture. False pretension, detention. Detained chain drained of the energy it could have retained in the humming life creations that could've been maintained, and all this love we could have gained, if all the chains of modern society are refrained, there could be a difference, there could be a change. But for change we need energy an endothermic reaction, we need lift, we need traction to kick off and finally be free. To soar on wings made of hope feathers made of poetry. We need the poets, to sing us our song, to give us the faith to stay in it the faith to stay strong, to find this emotion compacted within, and to use it and soar on our own personal wings. One day we will reach the potential energy [why am I using so much scientific terminology?]. Regardless, we'll reach it and we will fly high, with faith in our feelings and no fear to try. So here we all are in this room in this age, here we all are here I am, here on the stage. [I'm not sure why I'm actually quite shy] Regardless! Here I am, here you, passing some energy from me to you, from one onto two from three and to four, and it goes on up and out that door, and picks up these broken wings of ideas and feelings, in the gutters the streets covered in sludge from the buildings smothered with feet of the big corporations lost in translation and covered up in shame. We pick up their broken bones the fractured frames, we pick up the pieces and bring them inside to the soul of the culture to shine in your eyes, we give them a place we give them a home we give them a name. And soon we have built up a family of battered souls, learning how to let the flame inside glow, to build and to grow and to go... Back into those streets go and save more souls from the feet. And it continues once more, a circle once again. And there's never any death, as long as just one circle lives within.
And all of this can happen, in one moment. one mere second, [whatever that is]. And in one mere second everything can change, the foundations of our thinking all altered and rearranged. But suddenly that turn can end, and we get off and we stand waiting for the start again. For each end we have there's a new beginning in store when we believe that there's nothing left there can always be much more. If life's got you down, the wheel is coming round, and all life keeps living on, in this perpetual motion, in the strength of our songs. So find what keeps you happy and find what keeps you strong find what keeps you high and what keeps you moving on. The hope of the difference lives on among our minds, exists among these phrases among these words and among these rhymes. It is the first step for us all, the backbone of action, to find this hope within and to begin this reaction. It's up to us all, please heed this call, because something needs to take place. In a world that's filled with beauty is also filled with ugly, come one, come all, join this race to erase the disgrace's cold embrace, this vice cold as ice, please follow my advice: find what keeps you happy and find what keeps you strong find what keeps you high and what keeps you moving on.


humans are a disease. A plague for the planet.

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
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 quoi croire, a ce moment ici.
c'est effrayant, c'est curieuse.
P, je sais maintenant comment ca sent.

hello from...

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.
with each compacted memory I'd stored away in hibernation.
When I am without memories
I am happy.
No relativity to define me.


last time I saw Richard....

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
How I came to be,
so cynical, jaded, and mean.

the loving was rough
And the pain was too tough
I'm sorry if I'm appearing obsene

I don't mean to suggest
That I forgot all the rest,
I cant deny the good times I had

they were some of the best
but pain makes them digress,
and all I can remember is the bad

I'm sure love exists
but with experiences like this
love and happiness seem too hard to find.

But I'm sure that one day
true love will come my way
And I can put all this cynicism behind

But if that day comes
you wont see me become
another flowery love-struck youth.

I wont proclaim my "true love"
shouting from rooftops above,
such behaviour to me seems uncooth.

I'll admit that, yes,
that I acted like this,
but relationship-wise, it was my first

I mean it started off great,
but then love turned to hate
it just took a turn for the worse.

So now I believe
that there's no guarantee
that true love will last forever,

Nobody can know
how tomorrow's gonna go,
So I learned to never say never.

what I'm trying to say,
is that things can go either way
it can turn out good or it can turn bad

just don't always assume
or you'll fall to your doom
dont judge your future from the experiences you had

I learned to never say "we'll never be apart"
but also to never say " I'll never mend this broken heart"


Here's a secret for you;

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 ]


dragon naturally speaking?

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 fragments but the time has past way he served the right because I turn my back in the world well behind it. Here it's silly word written paper and sent to you. I where those promises of forever and the culture of obsolete ideas I paid why the hell away. I turned away to safety in your arms and I store all around us. I blamed on change the inevitability as time passes to canvass down with relentless fingernails. I began to walk away expecting my resistance to the friction was minimal and my walk turn into a stand I found myself miles away you. Often the waters of the tightest of new temptations pulled me from your sure. Lost in drowning in another's oceans eyes to my toast is barely grazing the sense of safety and familiarity. That is standing still by roots have been a key. By homing her arms was burned to the ground by flame I thought it died. And now I'm a vagabond of love traveling the silent ones of men's hearts, leading the interfaces but too afraid to let these roots grow the soil of another. The pain I caused the splitting of two souls made one. Have you gone with the wind to a million pieces. I couldn't bear to lose much more. I was left a broken profile of exuberant young girl. Left the qualities unfit to be that his gifts. The insecurities and weaknesses by vain and silly composure. So instead I went in search again stealing emotions for the unwary like collecting charms of price them in a one-day sale on eBay. Bought and sold and bought again these tokens of love I was too afraid to call by its real name. The implications it would bring those afraid of the chaining qualities of words and feelings that I was too addicted to freedom it to comply. I guarded my heart with a steady eye but I was lonely. My soul was naked and alone cried out for another and I was torn between the head and the heart and the insatiable neediness. So I threw my heart again and waited for someone to break again of hoping somehow this time I'll get right. But I added another notch that that's the case in other half of me to. Now I'm left a grimy tarnish quarter no Child left sitting on the sidewalk, trot in an unseen just waiting for another school to pick me up. Again.


Today's the day

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 around me again. And I cried for each wasted opportunity I'd left between us, too afraid to do what I'd always wanted. Even in those last few minutes that he were still mine, the trepidation was so stubborn I could not reach out and kiss him like I'd wanted to for so long. I let that moment fall because of my silly childish fears, and there's no picking it back up. No dusting it off and trying again. Any possibility is now dead. But each memory is so much alive and hurts me with their sharpness. They will fade and dull with time as is the way with most everything. But it will be hard to accustom to the lack of excitement of his promise, of his warmth beside me. Never again will I hear his heartbeat with my head on his chest. Never again will I grimace at a bad joke or punch him playfully in the arm when he'd mock me. Never again. I know we weren't perfect. We weren't destined for anything remarkable. I am almost thankful for this interjection. I am afraid of the chains of relationships. Fearful of commitment like a silly juvenile girl. No matter. I have no choice but to move on and forget it all. It's all over now, baby blue. The sky will be a little duller without my sun king.

my eyes were soft with sadness... "hey that's no way to say goodbye.."

But this will hurt for a while.
A picture,
where the smiles lay frozen forever.
A crystalline memory preserved.
That moment,
but held on that sheen of photography paper
Clear as day
grasped in kodachrome

A memory.
Looking back, I always feel invisible,
A picture
A cage for those forgottens
trudging those feelings back
pulling them forth
from that abyss of blurred pasts
once again.

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


Happy friday the 13th.

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.


i like to mix science and art.

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.


Where is my old style?
It's been replaced with strangeness
unfamiliar and frightening
I have lost myself in another

I've moved to new mind sets
I've lost my style along the way.
Or maybe I had no style to begin with.
A mash up of everyone else I hear.
Oh well.


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.


good enough for now

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 served me right. Because I turned my back, and the world went on behind it. I didn't want the problems of another clamoring in my head, i was trying to prevent the premature death of my found soft silence. I turned away from each piercing smile each sodden tear each silly word written on paper and sent to you. I took away those promises of forever and the poems of true love. Obsolete ideas, I paid them no mind, they held no weight. Turned away from the safety in your arms, hidden in the eye of the storm as hell broke loose around us. I blamed it on change, the inevitability as time passes and tears the canvas down with relentless fingernails. I began to walk away, expecting my Resistance but the friction was minimal and my walk turned into a run and soon I found myself miles away from the thought of you. Lost in new waters as the tide of new temptations pulled me from your shore. Lost and drowning in another's ocean-eyes, tips of my toes just barely grazing the sands of safety and familiarity. Never standing still, my roots have been up heaved. My home in your arms was burned to the ground by a flame I though had died, and now I'm a vagabond of love, travelling the silent woods of men's hearts, leaving faint traces but too afraid to let these roots grow in the soil of another. The pain I caused, the splitting of two souls made one. Half of me gone with the wind in a million pieces. I couldn't bear to lose much more. I was left a broken profile of an exuberant young girl. Left with the qualities unfit to be sent out as gifts. My insecurities and weaknesses, my vain and silly composure. So Instead I went in search of gain. Stealing emotions from the unwary, like collecting charms on a bracelet that I'll sell one day on eBay. Bought and sold and bought again, these tokens of love I was too afraid to call by its real name. The implications it would bring. I was afraid of the chaining qualities of words and feelings and I was too addicted to freedom to comply. I guarded my heart with a steady eye, but I was lonely. My soul was naked and alone and it cried out for another. And I was torn between the head and the heart and an insatiable neediness. So I threw my heart out again, and waited for someone to break it, again. Half hoping somehow this time I'd get it right. But I added another notch in that lipstick case, another half of me gone, now I'm left a grimy tarnished quarter. No shine left, sitting on the sidewalk, trodden and unseen, waiting for another soul to pick me up. again.


Love with an expiration date

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, with the world at your side, and I will be left with the hollow memory of you, an image conjured with each song I hear. I've fallen too deep, fallen at the foolhardy temptation of your smile. Each moment away I'm reminded of your touch with a twinge of longing, now diluted with promise, soon distilled by my inability to feel you beside me. You'll be thousands of miles away, adding countries to your resume as I drone on in a draining routine. Running around circles, running myself a trench among the stale memories of you, elexir turned poison. A trap I laid clearly before myself, not realizing the pain I'd set up for my future. I knew the implications yet I let myself fall. Falling fast and I dont know what will come of it. But there's there's only one way to find out.
But you'll never once hear me say, I need you, I don't need you. I need you. I don't need you. And all of that jiving around.


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.


Very mild super-powers

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 them up, reuse them. Borrowing their style for a little while. I slip into their idiosyncrasies, their form and their rhythm. I use it to my advantage, steeling phrases pulled from thin air, words steeped in a stranger's voice. It's dead handy. When all my inspiration's lost and hung stiff in the air, archaic and aloof, I can draw off the lost feelings of others, and use them as my own.
But I lose myself in it all. Lost my perception of identity. Who am I when I find my writing betrays no ideas of my own?


things we cant untie

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 still have the purple ribbon

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't say much more. Just that this is the start of something new, and I coudln't be happier.
Even if it is just before the end..


Passion pitch at balance

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 pleased myself. I got an ooh when i was finished, which made me feel good. And once the show was over i got many taps on the shoulder, many good-jobs, many i-loved-your-poems, many smiles and warmth. And I walked out of that lounge with a grin on my face and a newly hightened confidence in myself. It was excellent :)


A poem inspired by me

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


Fuck with the stars

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 there emotion true and real?

I think I know you want me
I think you know I want you too
But we're stuck in sinking trepidation
I'm trying, but I can't get through

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.

po po

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


Long over due: the monster.

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're slowly dying through every day of living so we take something out of everything we're giving. Trying to piece together past present and tomorrow, and we brace ourselves for every fall that's sure to follow. As we scrape our knees and skin our hearts, we know it and yet we still start. Every adventure every day not really knowing what will come our way. And we get caught up in the words and the rhymes, the cheap thrills and good times. And we're flying ever faster wanting things we've never had and we're needing silly rings like those of mom and dad, yet we want to be loud and we want to be wild and we want to be older but at heart we're still a child, finding comfort in a hug and the happiness it brings, the simplicity of things. And the mind is torn between a million different things. The shadow of the heart, the sunshine of your love, the fires down below and the fires up above. And soon you lose yourself in the rhythms of another finding comfort in the style like a child to a mother. And it's all an endless circle you never live if you never die and I can never say those things that I've hidden deep inside. Like how I get a rush from your simple affection or how I get so panicked when I think there's no connection. And how the stiff air catches us apart and how I feel I need you to mend my broken heart. But I don't know what I need I don't know why I care I don't know why it matters which way I style my hair. I remember we'd stay up until 11:11 every night, I tried to stay awake, I tried with all my might. But now I'm pushing 2:22, texting someone who's not you. I feel the ghost of our love that we left behind, but now that you're gone a feel that I can shine. but I'm weak and I’m needy, I'm stubborn and I'm vain, and each new distraction can take me so far away. The chiming of incoming calls pulls me out of this weird daze, where all I do is pour it out in an endless blurry haze. These words don't feel like mine, I don't know who I am, sometime's too caring, sometimes too weak to stand. And it seems it's all a circle, spinning wild and fast, I try to find my future but instead I find my past.
It's all an endless search for the pieces that'll fit inside, and looking for the secrets that the future likes to hide. I'm never full with anything, there could always be much more, I have the key within me, but I can't find the door. Hesitation's a deadly poison, a metaphysical conceit; a dream of carpe diem, a philosophy unbeat. But I'm caught behind a cage I've fashioned with my fears, with chains of trepidations that I've collected through the years. I'm looking for the depth I thought I saw beneath your eyes, but you cover yourself up with a layer of compromise. Hiding behind a sheet of your sardonic wit, you can't help but feel safe with it and only it. I tried to peel away the armour of your smile but you've let it intertwine for too long a while. I don't know why I do this, I don't know why I try, but I want to know there's more to you than just a silly guy. I've tasted a depth and now I want more, I have the motivation but I can’t reach your shore. I'm needing your help, please throw me a rope, pull me to your core, and see if I can cope.
I don't know how to stop this, I don't know where to end, I don't know what to say, or what to say again. It's all an endless cycle, we live and then we die, I've countless unanswered questions but the main one's only why.

River People.

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 composure that brought you to my level.
You made yourself real to me.
I love the broken and the lost.
The cracked and the forgotten.
You cracked beneath my fingers
and I basked in the light that shone through.
But I was glued to you, rooted with the fear of the ephemeral.
im sorry for my grasp on you .i was afraid it would die
I dreamt of you.
I slept walked trying to reach you, I had to help you.
I had to be with you.
The nights I don't regret at all are so precious and rare,
and this one shines brightly.
I can't forget it. I have an affinity for poets. A weakness, you could say. Their shining souls attract me like a moth to a flame. I wont be happy with anything less.


pressed against the limits of the sea

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 response of distance growing. I'm left longing for your touch but I'm too afraid to touch you. An etched image of perfection and simplicity, and here I lie, broken. Ambiguous desires I read from your eyes, a disdainful demureness. Half of me wants you to find these stupid words. The adept side tells me to hide them away. A skill I've learnt well. Words of impulse find scorn and regret when change is innevitable.



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.


The words mean half of what I'm saying
a great tip-toeing among the rows, between the lines
you may fill in the cracks if you wish


You're always there. A grin on your face, a retort fresh off your lips
Your lips, your eyes, your fingers, sweeping the scraps of yesterday away
A way of forgetting, a new way of remembering reused feelings

Feeling safe here but I last felt safe in danger. It lead me to another end but I never thought I'd see it coming nor did I ever think. The lion fell in love with the lamb. Only question is, who held each role? It's all over now baby blue. I don't know what I want. Let me know. Tell me. Speak with a softer tone. I'm so afraid. Most things I worry 'bout, never happen anyways. I'm afraid to show you too deep. Maybe you'll back away. The words are thick and fall heavily, hard to move once they've slipped between these lips. I haven't decided where I'll put this. I'm too afraid, and I don't know why. I feel I'm below you. I'm used to difficulties and now that there are none I try to keep it that way. Sweep these characters beneath a rug, Silly notions. It's not worth it. What's worth and how do I label and distinguish? I do regardless of knowing the reasons. I don't know anything.
This is a mess. I'm a mess. apparently.



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, last night's excitement ran away, leaving me blank. Andrew followed me and we talked, throwing stones. Eventually we all had to leave, taking the 1 back downtown. So tired, i rested my head on andrew, he was a good pillow. somehow he ended up with his arm around me. it was great, i think. i thought it was. we ate mcdonalds, they'd bought me a salad, it was disgusting. we went to marysia's, washing our hair and using perfume because we were nervous wrecks. Laughable. The colours were brighter after that day. It was a good time, had by all. And we went back. we found the sex shack, found our tags in black spray paint. we left another, with sharpies. walking back along the house, lost in memories laying thick everywhere. It didn't occur to us that someone else lived here now, that they were home and wouldn't appreciate two teens walking through their property. but we didn't care. we stared frozen at that front entrance, where we crossed the threshold into the next chapter. Petra gasped and started walking away, saying she's seen eyes looking at her. we rushed away, still high on nostalgia and dumbfounded that we'd acctualy came back. But we did, and it was needed.


see me, feel me

electrons protons and neutrons. chemical bonds, elements, macromolecules. lipids proteins carbohydrates. Nucleic 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 all in neat piles and boxes. We know how we touch how we see how we hear. But I wonder how we feel, how we look, how we listen. And why. I want to understand the mind, not the brain. the soul not the body. I want to understand the abstract concepts. Everyone can dissect a body. cut it up, poke and prod, observe the physical properties of life. But what of the mental qualities. the Ones that disappear with the life source. The ephemeral, the elusive. The imaginary. We cannot explain these away with chemical reactions. they do not exist in physical form. This makes them attractive. Unsure, the way it should be. Unable to be categorized, generalized. A secret we hold in each of our minds. Only we know, yet we know nothing of it. When did knowledge become a staple? When was it generalized, either you knew or you didn't. If you didn't you were dumb. Illiterate, inarticulate. You were inadequate, inferior. We were classed on our ability to regurgitate the facts. The facts. Because everything was set in stone. Easily managed, percent scores, essays and quizzes, paper and numbers. It isn't worth a dime. I want to understand the unreal, things that can't be traced and drawn and clearly observed. It's so much more exhilarating that way.


run away

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


From a blue bench

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.


wanna get up and jive

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.

thrown against the wind

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


It goes like this the fourth the fifth

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 trickling melodies and I only wish I could be like her. Her age is dead and no one can get it back unless it's been kept alive in a secret soul, passed through the music. Sulfur. soul-for souls-for-sale. You'll lose me if you fallow. The words seem weird to me. silence unnerves me. My mind is empty. My heart is full, and hollow. Like the charms on a bracelet. Shiney and new or tarnished and old, they're all beautiful. Each one crafted through memories and feelings. Ambiguous phrases, Euphemisms. Suffix prefix, I need a fix, cuz I'm going down. This is done.

a light that has faded, a love we've degraded

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

growing out

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. We all have. It's a beautiful thing.


If I go crazy,

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't want to stray too far from the edge, the fun, the rush. I thirsted for affection but now I'm afraid I'll drown.

And her heart is full and empty, like a cactus tree
But she's too busy, being free.


the truth is at ephemeral as your breath

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 only falling back into it all, so much harder than before. blood in the streets it's up to my ankles, mud in the streets it's up to my knees. shiver shiver shiver.


please watch and tell me what you think


love's the only engine of survival

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.


after the rush when you come back down

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.


its so harder when it's your decision

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.


Close Encounters

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.
Yet I know that around each corner is a new chance.
A new opportunity to change everything around.
It's up to us to realize it.


I wish I could

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


I can't contain myself

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, waiting to be filled but hesitant to losing myself. Afraid of failure, of inadequacy. I'm insipid and inept. All my life I've depended on others, was never shown responsibility, trust or freedom. Now everyone is depending on me, for varied reasons. This I can handle. But now I'm forced to depend on myself, there's no one to help me anymore. I've entered a whole new room, and the door has shut behind me.
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.


recipe cuz i was bored this morning

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.


Don't go around breaking young girls' hearts

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?

No one wants to be defeated

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 what I did not know. It didn't seem important, to think about myself, but because I didn't, I couln't understand it when other people thought of me. When they cared about me, when they loved me. I couldn't comprehend what they saw in me, what made me so incredible. I couldn't see it, so I couldn't believe it. So the lack of love flourished, and in its place left and empty hole that i tried fruitlessly to fill, not knowing how. But now I'm on my way to changing that.


They open

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.

love in a pile of dust

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 they have to say, the wisdom that comes forth and I don't even realize it, and maybe they don't either. Maybe I should start hanging out with an older crowd. I think they could tell me things I could really appreciate and value. I'm getting tired of these barely-18s, so caught up in attaining some perishable high, like it's all that matters. I thirsted for substance, for something different to open my eyes. And now I have it. I've always loved the arts. But I never had enough self esteem to want to further my repetoire, to share and be critiqued. This was good for me. I don't have a clue who I am but I know this is something I like. woot.

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


que serra serra

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.


It so hard on the knees

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 don't know what to do.. It's so difficult when I'm such a vital part of his life right now. Somehow he's managed to stay happy through all that's happened to him and I wonder if I'll push him to his breaking point. I still love him, I still want him, I still care about him. I guess I wont leave him, atleast not yet.


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.

In the summer time

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.


An Edge? A gun or a knife, something the other guy don't have

What now?
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



Of Course

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


you wanted one.

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.


Misanthropic cynic.

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]


who, would fardels bear,

[i always forget what to write.]


nelly bean

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.


in the summer time

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 little longer.." but it's built up such pressure in our minds we can't ignore it any longer. so now comes the problem of "how to let it out" and "who to let it out to". this is harder than it sounds. we've held in so much for so long, hidden so much from so many people, that if we start letting it out the ones we love wont know what hit them, they'll be afraid and wont know how to handle it. that's why we need to find someone special, someone we trust and love more that anything. someone who knows and understands the feeling of hiding so much. maybe two people who're in the same predicament are best suited to help eachother. who knows.

I've found my person that I can share everything with. I hope she'll confide in me as well. ♥


i feel so close i feel so far

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.


happy mother's day

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


no one's interested in something you didn't do

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


enter the struggler

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't need a boss or a mother, you need your girlfriend. You need me to be me. True, that's what I am, but I am so much more as well. The label is unbecoming to me, a clumbsy word trying too hard to mean so much more than it is. There are no words fitting to do me justice in explanation. I am your girlfriend. I am myself. I am so much more than you think I am. You want me to be myself. You claim to know me but you've no idea. How can you, when I'm even unsure of who I am. There's an ugly side you're just beginning to witness and you're afraid, as am I. I haven't changed, far from it. But I'm growing up. I think it scares you as much as it does me. You're older than me but I'm older than you too. Years mean nothing it's what we've done with our years. I refuse to waste away in nothingness but you embrace your blithe disposition without question. You've given up. I haven't