rude awakenings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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