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.
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.
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
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
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.
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
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 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.
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.
my reality, the foundation's built
by years of this society,
following blindly and simply,
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 I was no longer in the world I grew up in
But I was.
But it was different
It was on the level of energy
Instead of purely physical
it was intangible,
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.
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.
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"
[from rue des images ]
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.
my eyes were soft with sadness... "hey that's no way to say goodbye.."
where the smiles lay frozen forever.
A crystalline memory preserved.
but held on that sheen of photography paper
Clear as day
grasped in kodachrome
Looking back, I always feel invisible,
A cage for those forgottens
trudging those feelings back
pulling them forth
from that abyss of blurred pasts
brain cell pathways
Axons, synapses, terminals.
when the pathways worn down
a memory remains
When the path degrades
All is forgotten
How a scent, a song,
how an old trinket
can bring it all rushing back
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.
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.
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.
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?
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 :)
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?
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
The almost-grey backdrop of beginings,
I am in everthing but only as a shadow.
nor give a siliver lining
I exist for others,
I am the frame of the picture
Just caught along the edges
I am there before the brightness,
I am there for those who chose to listen
For those who look beyond the mainstage.
I don't mind obscurity.
I know my worth.
I know my place.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
it's not far, to the bar, but it's a long road back
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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.
there you were,
slipping a tarnished ring in my pocket,
staring into my eyes.
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.
Should I have seen this coming?
heavy lungs, a heavy heart yet another sign.
the sighing desperation, another dragging day
again this endless heartbreaking dismay.
"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.
my thoughts are rearanging, I wish that you could see.
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