Time Water slips
through moment-holes and phase-change
drawn down to deep night pools
and caught on stones
blown with the sighing grinding earth
held captive for sweet fruit
rushing lips, breast charging
eroding, rebuilding by particle tender
endless one non-euclidian flow form
|Being far away. Not close. Separated. In|
two different places. Togetherless. Un-near.
|Something I never thought I'd feel being in the |
same vicinity as you.
|The opposite of love. Strongest of all feelings--to|
ultimately hate, one must have loved another so much
first. Love's bittersweet enemy.
|Something I never thought I'd see reside adamantly|
in your perfect eyes.
|Gross. Not to one's liking. Grotesque. Immensely|
unpleasant. Unattractive. Ugly.
|What took the place of your pleasant, melodic voice|
when you addressed me ever so objectively. So
callously. So coldly. I didn't know angels could
speak in such ways. I didn't think they ever would.
|Weird. Odd. Eccentric. Not of the norm.|
|What I've become to you.|
|My World. My Music. My Hero. My Miracle.|
|Your apparent and blatantly obvious dissapointment.|
Your failure. Your shame.
|What I can't stress to you enough that I am for|
consistently letting you down.
|My future without you, my music. A black tomorrow.|
I would ride upon a golden vessel
Upholding a silver sail against the force of the wind,
I would pick a crimson rose that
Opens its face to the sunrise, but
I have never believed in angels, or
That place called heaven
Where the good souls go
Hell, limbo and purgatory
High in the sky,
Cobalt blue as the picture I paint of,
The blues I feel, or
The eye of a storm past midnight-
The yarn my grandmother weaves
The words she spoke
Were as untrue to me
As there are other stars in the universe,
But after I die
I would ride upon a golden vessel
That upholds a silver sail
against the force of the wind, but
Only in my dreams-
I would pick a crimson rose along the way
To these places that have never existed, as
I have never believed in angels in heaven
Though, I believe in you,
I believe in you...
Do not let the starlight blind you, do not let
The man-in-the-moon's laughter deceive you, or
Let broken promises beguile you, as they are
The voices of deception- only listen:
Can you hear?
Can you hear
The sounds of the ocean's waves lapping upon the shore?
The chorus of the nightingale?
The thistles of dandelions dancing in
The sultry midsummer's daytime air?
This is reality
It was all meant just for you...
Stand tall and reach for the stars.
Touch the ocean with the tips of your fingers and
Let the waves wash over you, and
cleanse your wounded spirit.
Touch the flowers, the trees and the grass
This is all true,
For that golden vessel with a silver sail
Won't carry us to heaven,
There is no such place,
It is all a lie,
Only a dream,
None but a delusion,
Land of the phantasmal, in which
I do not believe, I have never believed.
With your dogged might stand
against the force of the wind,
Reach for the sun with your outstretched hand,
The trees in the forest,
Canadian wild geese and the green necked mallards that
Wade in the pond in a nearby park-
This is all tangible; this is the reality
In which I do believe, and
In you I believe,
I have always believed in you, as
You are my fortress, and my strength.
In actuality and in my reverie
I believe in you,
I have never believed in angels, but
You are a star-
You enlighten my world,
In you, I believe...
fingerprints of left over nightfall?
have you heard the birdsong
"cradle the child"
a lifetime of joy, fears & shadows
one night dreams become
crashing through tomorrows
fair wells and journeys home
I cling to purple mist
the entrance of hours
sky flashes with some voice
that scratches and aches
yet does not regret
I was born by you
sacred and profane
directing you here
from the fragrance of
embers and gardenias
which life only knows
do you still discern
how to draw rhymes of colors?
breaths of springtime songs?
"your room is very bright"
sun warmth and whispers
your sea a fragile beauty
of living things that tell
footsteps in the night
recognize familiar voice
your still warm child's voice
which you've pasted to my heart
but for your words of silence
I smell that monster judge
souls torn unintended
flickering silvers and golden hues
looking after you
with your very own
Claire de lune
live through experience
is all one can do
if I were a Sculptor
but then again NO!
When I die
All of my trials,
The pain of this malaise, and
The ghosts and demons of my past and present
Shall perish as I exit this world-
I speak not of reality,
Which I have hardly ever known,
Only the phantasmal land
Where the devils of my past are dwelling,
I shall not speak of unreality or
The trials of my future,
As I foresee no future
Only trials and very few tribulations-
Perhaps the future shall hold for me
If only my dreams would come true,
As many angels,
As the old saying goes
That can dance upon the head of a pin
Which of course can only be of a very few,
Above the clouds,
Fluffy and white
Against a sky of cerulean blue,
When I die
I would only hope
That there is where I would find myself-
In that place that Christians have coined as "heaven,"
I cannot say I do not believe, as
No one, myself included
Has ever conversed with the dead.
They have also spoken of a place called "hell"
A place that I have seen so much of on this very planet,
Where fire has been set to my very soul,
Whereby fate was the arsonist. and
I know that from the day I was born
It was with a spirit that has been damned, and
When I die,
I wish to leave behind
All of my trials and pain
The demons of my past and present,
Only hoping that the future holds for me-
That I may find myself basking
beneath the heat of the sun
Resting upon a fluffy white cloud
Sailing across the sea of sky -
Shades of cerulean blue,
My dream would be to be
Amongst the few angels
Chosen to dance upon the head of a pin
A ballerina with wings,
With legs stepping gracefully,
As those of a fawn, though a bit shaky-
Oh, what does the future hold for me?
I will only find out after I am dead and gone,
There could not possibly be any more agony
Than past memories,
Or present experiences, only and only if
I die soon shall I find relief,
It is written in my book of prayers
Inscribed across that sky of cerulean blue
When I speak of what reality has meant to me-
Nothing but a life of being afraid
Of just about everyone and everything-
The future couldnâ€™t possibly hold any more battles
I shall exit this war zone and
Enter nirvana, and if the future holds no hope for me
When I die
I hope that death is, as many do believe
Will be none but a final sleep for me
And I shall just close my eyes tightly shut,
Maybe I shall never dance upon the head of a pin,
Or bask beneath the sun as I rest upon a cloud.
Perhaps just falling asleep
To never awaken again in any world
Even if it were to be heaven,
For heaven could turn
out to be a repeat of hell on earth-
Nobody could ever know for certain, as
Death as is life-
Is just another mystery?
When you flash into my mind
I see you with your brown hair
And thick beard
Watching over me
To see if I need help
I see you babysitting me
When I got really sick
And you never babysat anyone else
Not even your kids
You always played with me
You let me sit on your lap
When I came over
You always made me happy
When I was sad
When I couldn't see you anymore
I hated it
The one time I got to see you
You were very sick
That made me sad
You helped me so much
I didn't want to lose you
But I did,
I lost my grandpa,
Even though I don't believe
In a heaven
I'll always believe that
You're watching over me
And I'll never forget you
Two years more, two years less—
All more important
Than what twenty have passed,
And how short a time
To determine the rest.
As for my friends, many have come and gone
Save for the few
To whom I hold on,
Who shant be replaced
When all’s said and done.
Life of the new compensates for the old
When born of my blood
Sons and daughters of gold,
Who learn from their elders
Before their flight from the fold.
Mere mortals are we, yet eternal we shine!
For at the last strike
We speak ne’er another line,
But our words carry on,
The world echoes our rhyme.
When the sun sets red on the last day for me,
Weep for me not
For I wouldn’t for thee.
Thy life and thy body are finally laid,
Yet memories of thee reside safe within me.
If but one message from me should remain,
Know I have few regrets
As is my life’s aim;
I bestow unto all
That ye do the same.
where smoke rises in circles
from Marlboro lights
To be free or to love? O, which should I choose?
This life lasts too short to have known both them well,
Thus do I find myself where I’m wont to lose:
By not having it all, I lose part of myself.
One or the other, does me this life bid,
I may know only one, and the other forget,
To lead but one life and the other forbid,
Leaving me one choice, which I’d rather regret.
I can feel it overpower me
It's going to sting
My eyes are burning
with tears trying to penetrate
It's like a rain cloud
only pouring on me
It follows me around
all these days
It's the taste of blood
It's the smell of fog
It's the sound of gray
It feels like a heartache
It's color; is blue.
I am fighting
my own fucking head
my finger finds the trigger
the barrel wants me dead
I am fighting
the cap on the pills
swallow them all
and I shall be still
I am fighting
the blade of the knife
one swift motion
and i could end my life
I am fighting
the people on TV
looking so perfect
being so free
Why are they so free
When I am so locked up
When will the world stop turning
When will enough be enough
Hell has become us
The world's engulfed in heat
for the falling of the heavens
I've taken a front seat
Hoping that a piece of sky
will hit me on the head
and everything will turn to black
and I will soon be dead
The knife is taunting me
It wants me to slice.
"No" I tell it
"That wouldn't be wise."
"Just one more time"
it asks me once again
"But i'm still waiting for
the last one more time to mend."
"You'll feel better if you feel
my blade upon your arm."
"Why do you tease me
when you know you do me harm?"
"Just pick me up slowly,
and gently press down"
silently i'm mesmerized
as i reach down to the ground
to pick up my little friend
that talks to me at night
there really was no point
in putting up a fight
Because in the end he always wins
and i, always lose
So now the next thing I have to do
is pick and carefully choose
Where I must be branded
where to place my notch
for every mark upon my skin
stands for a battle lost
Marks of Crimson
on my skin.
Lines of despair,
you make me ugly.
Why did I make you?
I want you gone.
I want you gone so no one can see
my twisted mind.
But I want you to stay.
I want you to remind me
of every time I hated myself.
Remind me of all my mistakes
Tell me how terrible I am
Every time I see you
I think of my worth--
A sick little girl
in a great big world
Each of you could be named
20 times over
For a different person
who has hurt me.
You whisper their names to me.
In that deep river of read
We are a bind.
We are connected
by mental awareness
and recovering skin.