Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Swim with the Coy
I tumble for you. I tumble in the deepness of everything you are. You are most days my strength, my butterflies, my passion and drive. You are what could be. I see you and my heart is racing. I'm miles from you and I can already feel your thoughts. I love your dirty mind.
I love knowing when you see me you've put yourself in a different situati
on with me. It's me and you in a room alone even if we are in a crowd. I w
atch your eyes dilate and your skin turn pink as I get closer. Tease me more, make me understand what stirs you. You might not think so but I'm nervous too. I want to smell perfect. Feel perfect. Touch you perfectly. I want to be your perfect promise.
I deserve you. You deserve me. You see me as I want to be seen and take me as I am. You know I'll give till I've got nothing, for you. You know I'll never stop trying, for you.
Touch me once more. A brush of skin and I look away with a hot face. You drive me crazy. This is all familiar and different at the same time. We grew up. We know better. We know what we want. Is it safe to safe we want each
other? I believe so.
I can't stop laughing. Make me cry with joy. Please I need to be alive again. I need to remember I exist. Put your arms around me in the dark. A secret we share. But a faithful act. There is a line I want to cross. There is a limit I push. I will only go so f
ar till you tell me you want more.
A few days isn't enough. Constant chatter isn't enough! Won't you show me your world? I'll show you mine. I'll tease those dreams. I'll push away from where I am, caught by another and find you. If only for a moment to see your face.
Leaving you rips a part of me out. You are like wearing sunglasses all day and forgett
ing you took them off, once more reaching for something that isn't there, but the feeling is. Just a little longer. Just one more touch. Just another smile. Just another promise in secret.
Share more with me. Give it up, and open to what I offer. I swear I will be everything until you can't take everything anymore. Swim in the ocean with me. You are the only salt I will enjoy tasting. A test of my strength, I have a lot but I would break walls down for you, if you asked. Or I will sit upon them and wait for you to call me down.
Freshness. You will be my escape. You will be my warm water. You will be my coy, my Fish in which I will travel the seven seas with.
The smell of sea drifts as night lights sparkle...
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
To Live Forever
She wont live forever,
I understand that.
She wont always be there,
I knew she wouldn't.
She wont always have the right thing to say.
She wont always have that special way to comfort.
She wont be there just to listen.
She wont live forever.
She wont always assume she's right.
She wont always actually be right in the end.
She wont always smile when you figure it out.
She wont live forever.
She wont always smell the way she does.
She wont always feel soft against my cheek.
She wont always want to be comfortable.
She wont live forever.
She wont always have a strong grip.
She wont always be able to get your attention.
She wont always have the best laugh.
She wont live forever.
She wont always surprise you.
She wont always have amazing stories.
She wont always have a bed that feels like home.
She wont live forever.
She wont always do the things she does.
She wont always stop trying to take care of you.
She wont always have something silly to snack on.
She wont live forever.
I understand that.
Really.... she wont live forever.
I knew she wouldn't... but wont she?
I understand that.
She wont always be there,
I knew she wouldn't.
She wont always have the right thing to say.
She wont always have that special way to comfort.
She wont be there just to listen.
She wont live forever.
She wont always assume she's right.
She wont always actually be right in the end.
She wont always smile when you figure it out.
She wont live forever.
She wont always smell the way she does.
She wont always feel soft against my cheek.
She wont always want to be comfortable.
She wont live forever.
She wont always have a strong grip.
She wont always be able to get your attention.
She wont always have the best laugh.
She wont live forever.
She wont always surprise you.
She wont always have amazing stories.
She wont always have a bed that feels like home.
She wont live forever.
She wont always do the things she does.
She wont always stop trying to take care of you.
She wont always have something silly to snack on.
She wont live forever.
I understand that.
Really.... she wont live forever.
I knew she wouldn't... but wont she?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The Final Sacrifice
Little did you know the world speaks. Sure you might hear it as others do. Nature is what we all havethe ability to hear, if we think about listening. Listen as hard as you might but you'll only catch the surface. There is a difference between worlds. It's feeling...
Over the past month I've felt the change. Some days it's more then others. Some days it's better then others. The morning of the harvest season I was dreaming. I dream in color. I dream in fluid motion, but I do notalways dream well. It was blood, and darkness. It was cold and bleak. However I don't let dreams like this stir me in any direction. I knew deep down it was sacrifice. I could see my arms pale in a full moon's glow. The blood dark against my skin.
Drip drip drip....
Into the harvest Earth. Into what will be the sacrifice for the Growth. The world will sleep and be still. A blanket of cold will cover the Earth and we will be like snakes. We will wait in the bitterness until we can warm ourselves on hot rocks.
Drip drip drip...
I welcome the bleeding and the darkness. I'm ready for transition, though I fear the cold. My bones and body will hurt. No amount of what I release will ever stop me. I will always give so I may receive the gifts of the new year. I humbly grant the goddess.Drip drip drip...The moon is covered by clouds, I hear the bear kill its last meal, the song of night continues as I smell the sage and sweet grass I burn from my left hand. My circle has been cast, been given its sacrifice, and as I call to Air, Fire, Water, Earth and Spirit I close my casting in peace and wrap my blood stained arms with the wings of bats.
I wake... The day feels new. The moon has moved and so we entered Fall. I remember being hit with such force with a positive feeling as I walked into the morning air. I couldn't help but smile. I've been a sucker for Fall. She greets me as a long lost lover. A light kiss with just a hint of cold. She misses me when my eyes wander to Winter. Though she is not jealous, Winterdoesn't get my sacrifice. I smell the world as if it's on fire. Not only does nature give the apperance with the trees changing humans add to the delight by lighting their hearths and smoke fills the air. Reminds me of hot drinks, sweet foods, and the comfort of warmth.
My days will be blinded by needs I feel I can't catch. I will crave something as I do every Fall. I have a slight idea of what...or whom that could be. My nights I will dream luci
dly. I will travel through the thin layers of the "worlds" and dancewith the owls. Demeter will cry on my shoulder and I will hold her hand. Butbehind her back I will eat the blood seeds. I will drink the sweet wine and eat the harvest with thanks. I will avoid the darkness for now. I wont let it consume me before its time. But as always I will be prepared for it. I will watch that silver lining as I turn gold...
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Unknown Caller
Debating it all day. Just like I debate everything I remember. Dates, holidays, birthdays, even a memory. Today was the worst of all days. Today was the day I had made so many promises and I don't make promises I can't keep. In this case it has to be different. It has been different. But that doesn't mean I forget.
But my memory is long and filled with the words I say. With my own promises and that of others. Most wonder how I remember the things I do. It's not my mind that does it, it's my body. I'll remember a feeling for the rest of my life. However the way I think about that feeling will change after time.
The final hours in the day and I'm still over come with emotions. It's not me. After all this time why can't you see it's really not my choice?! I do it for you, for them. You made me do this. You don't deserve me right now. I guess they do and that's why I make this choice. It's safer don't you see? You'll never understand and it's something YOU will have to live with not me. You will float through time as content as most. But when this choice is changed how you will walk on unsteady ground. Most days it doesn't bother me. Most days aren't today. Most days I don't recall important promises. Why I care id beyond me. I care in no other way, but to keep my soul on track.
Blocks from my house. The air is cold and I'm making excuses. There will be a sign if it is to happen.
....The lights at the gas station go off and the one light left outside is the one above the payphone. REALLY? There are still payphones? Damn it, that was it, my sign.
I pulled in and stepped into the cold air. I stood starring at it. When was the last time I used one of these? I used to always carry change as a child just in case. I used to love the click it made and the obnoxious dial tone. I used to think when I put my ear up to it and listened hard I could hear other people's thoughts who had used it before me. As I got older I wondered how dirty the person was before me, as I'd wipe the phone down with my sleeve. Does 1 800 COLLECT still work? Does that nice lady still come on and help you? I bet my parents would still get pissed if I called them collect even for fun.
I picked up the ear piece. Damn it worked. It took 50 cents. WHAT? I don't need a payphone but 50 cents? Really? No wonder bums ask to use your phone. Well that was it I didn't carry change. I dropped the phone down and smiled at the familiar clink it made. Got in my car and there in the cup holder were two shiny quarters. Fuck My Life. Out in the cold again I put the two quarters in. I double checked the number hoping that my memory would tell me I forgot it. I didn't. It was the same.
Don't pick up, don't pick up, wait who would pick up and unknown caller? No one. Voice mail. An odd voice mail message at that. Stupid. Really stupid. I didn't even think about what to say because I didn't want to say anything. Sometimes I want to open my mouth. Oh the things I could say to release this burden from my hands. It was my own choice not to have contact, I HATE breaking my own rules. I know what comes of breaking my rules. The tight rope has a a deeper dip when I walk across it. But it doesn't help when I know what they want. There is a craving I feel from them. I need. A want. Whatever the meaning between us two is still unknown but it lies there lie a carcass under the desert sun. All day, every call or message a slight hope it's me. You look at your phone hoping, wanting that gut pulling feeling when you see it's me. It's addicting isn't it?
I still feel you. I know when it calls out at me. I didn't absorb you for no reason. However in the end I shouldn't have absorbed so much. Say what you will, it doesn't change what is really going on in you. No matter how you try to change it physically it will always feel the same. I know the dreams, I know your worry, I know when I'm on your mind. A few months back it drove you insane. More so then, then it has in a long time... I can promise you it wont stop. You will always feel that way towards me. You will do what you can to self satisfy, however it might destroy you. You find pleasure in it. Imagine what the real thing is like. Imagine what I'm like now.
You might not even get the massage. Maybe you will. If you do you can deal with it as you will. You might look at your phone and do what every other person does with an unknown call. It was me wanting to keep my promise, in a way, that I made. Trying not to be angry with myself... I didn't have much to say anyway. Just...
Happy Birthday.
But my memory is long and filled with the words I say. With my own promises and that of others. Most wonder how I remember the things I do. It's not my mind that does it, it's my body. I'll remember a feeling for the rest of my life. However the way I think about that feeling will change after time.
The final hours in the day and I'm still over come with emotions. It's not me. After all this time why can't you see it's really not my choice?! I do it for you, for them. You made me do this. You don't deserve me right now. I guess they do and that's why I make this choice. It's safer don't you see? You'll never understand and it's something YOU will have to live with not me. You will float through time as content as most. But when this choice is changed how you will walk on unsteady ground. Most days it doesn't bother me. Most days aren't today. Most days I don't recall important promises. Why I care id beyond me. I care in no other way, but to keep my soul on track.
Blocks from my house. The air is cold and I'm making excuses. There will be a sign if it is to happen.
....The lights at the gas station go off and the one light left outside is the one above the payphone. REALLY? There are still payphones? Damn it, that was it, my sign.
I pulled in and stepped into the cold air. I stood starring at it. When was the last time I used one of these? I used to always carry change as a child just in case. I used to love the click it made and the obnoxious dial tone. I used to think when I put my ear up to it and listened hard I could hear other people's thoughts who had used it before me. As I got older I wondered how dirty the person was before me, as I'd wipe the phone down with my sleeve. Does 1 800 COLLECT still work? Does that nice lady still come on and help you? I bet my parents would still get pissed if I called them collect even for fun.
I picked up the ear piece. Damn it worked. It took 50 cents. WHAT? I don't need a payphone but 50 cents? Really? No wonder bums ask to use your phone. Well that was it I didn't carry change. I dropped the phone down and smiled at the familiar clink it made. Got in my car and there in the cup holder were two shiny quarters. Fuck My Life. Out in the cold again I put the two quarters in. I double checked the number hoping that my memory would tell me I forgot it. I didn't. It was the same.
Don't pick up, don't pick up, wait who would pick up and unknown caller? No one. Voice mail. An odd voice mail message at that. Stupid. Really stupid. I didn't even think about what to say because I didn't want to say anything. Sometimes I want to open my mouth. Oh the things I could say to release this burden from my hands. It was my own choice not to have contact, I HATE breaking my own rules. I know what comes of breaking my rules. The tight rope has a a deeper dip when I walk across it. But it doesn't help when I know what they want. There is a craving I feel from them. I need. A want. Whatever the meaning between us two is still unknown but it lies there lie a carcass under the desert sun. All day, every call or message a slight hope it's me. You look at your phone hoping, wanting that gut pulling feeling when you see it's me. It's addicting isn't it?
I still feel you. I know when it calls out at me. I didn't absorb you for no reason. However in the end I shouldn't have absorbed so much. Say what you will, it doesn't change what is really going on in you. No matter how you try to change it physically it will always feel the same. I know the dreams, I know your worry, I know when I'm on your mind. A few months back it drove you insane. More so then, then it has in a long time... I can promise you it wont stop. You will always feel that way towards me. You will do what you can to self satisfy, however it might destroy you. You find pleasure in it. Imagine what the real thing is like. Imagine what I'm like now.
You might not even get the massage. Maybe you will. If you do you can deal with it as you will. You might look at your phone and do what every other person does with an unknown call. It was me wanting to keep my promise, in a way, that I made. Trying not to be angry with myself... I didn't have much to say anyway. Just...
Happy Birthday.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Post Opp
Oh lord, I look back on the past few blogs and I hate myself. Mostly because of being in a stressful situation (since the end of June) and add on a few drinks to that, my blogs became banter. Banter with myself. Dramatic banter maybe. Yes the situation and how I felt about most of it is all true. Surgery is VERY scary. More so because I had a friend die from minor surgery on his ankle. Blood clot to his heart.
I'll never forget the first time I saw a dead body. I'll never forget how in love with the situation I was and how I hated myself for it. How I remember playing football with him. Oh how he could run! His smile and how he picked on me. How he laughed. I remember his hugs and the sweetness of his cologne. Fast forward to him with another friend of mine and how she smiled because of him. I remember how he held her. I remember the energy. The love. I remember his proposal to her.
So there in the sun drenched church was his lifeless body, and his "was soon to be wife" crying to my left. He was pale and beautiful. As if sleeping. I could see the make up, smell it. I could smell the oils they rubbed on him to keep him looking fresh. I felt the people around me. I knew when it had been the first time they saw a dead body too. It was a jolt of fear almost. Sometimes a wave of sickness. I felt that from them. They went back to their seats quickly. Others would gaze. Transfixed almost. Taking a little longer to get back to their seats. But me... I wanted his eyes to open. To see his baby blues again. I knew they would be white and foggy. I knew he wouldn't sit up in greet us like a sick joke. I knew they had cut the spine and all major limbs to keep him from curling in death.
I remember talking to him in my mind. Amused that he spoke back with his sweet and kind voice. I saw her to my left still crying. I knew she would love again. Someone very close to her. I don't know how I knew, maybe he told me. It would hurt more then anything in the world to not have him there until then. (She ended up marrying his best friend a little over a year later. I know he would have been happy with that.)
A break up is different then death. I had been through one and couldn't imagine not being able to just hear her voice. It was then that when I looked back at the death before me it wasn't as pleasant. He was a reminder of how thankful I was to have the people I loved in my life. To hear a voice, to feel a touch, to have a moment longer. I wanted to touch him, to give him that moment. I went back to my seat instead.
So when I look back on what I said yes it was scary. Yes I had to wait after to hear if I was healthy. But I think the way it came out would have been taken to a higher standard then it should have been. In fact I know it did. I have the email to prove it. So I took them down. For now. Maybe I'll go back and edit them. In a clear frame of mind.
There was detail I didn't need in there as well. I know I said I wanted to be open and honest more in my writing. So I will be. But the things I really want to say will have to be read later. A book perhaps? Oh not to mention most of what I wrote didn't make any fucking sense! Spelling and grammar errors. Lame on my part. I know better. Really I do. Most people know I'm a decent writer.
So I'm sorry. Yes, I had my first surgery. Yes I had a cancer scare. Yes it is always a big deal, but really I'm a touch cookie. I didn't need to be bothered with drama in the aftermath. Second hand information can make you look foolish. Just saying.
I'll never forget the first time I saw a dead body. I'll never forget how in love with the situation I was and how I hated myself for it. How I remember playing football with him. Oh how he could run! His smile and how he picked on me. How he laughed. I remember his hugs and the sweetness of his cologne. Fast forward to him with another friend of mine and how she smiled because of him. I remember how he held her. I remember the energy. The love. I remember his proposal to her.
So there in the sun drenched church was his lifeless body, and his "was soon to be wife" crying to my left. He was pale and beautiful. As if sleeping. I could see the make up, smell it. I could smell the oils they rubbed on him to keep him looking fresh. I felt the people around me. I knew when it had been the first time they saw a dead body too. It was a jolt of fear almost. Sometimes a wave of sickness. I felt that from them. They went back to their seats quickly. Others would gaze. Transfixed almost. Taking a little longer to get back to their seats. But me... I wanted his eyes to open. To see his baby blues again. I knew they would be white and foggy. I knew he wouldn't sit up in greet us like a sick joke. I knew they had cut the spine and all major limbs to keep him from curling in death.
I remember talking to him in my mind. Amused that he spoke back with his sweet and kind voice. I saw her to my left still crying. I knew she would love again. Someone very close to her. I don't know how I knew, maybe he told me. It would hurt more then anything in the world to not have him there until then. (She ended up marrying his best friend a little over a year later. I know he would have been happy with that.)
A break up is different then death. I had been through one and couldn't imagine not being able to just hear her voice. It was then that when I looked back at the death before me it wasn't as pleasant. He was a reminder of how thankful I was to have the people I loved in my life. To hear a voice, to feel a touch, to have a moment longer. I wanted to touch him, to give him that moment. I went back to my seat instead.
So when I look back on what I said yes it was scary. Yes I had to wait after to hear if I was healthy. But I think the way it came out would have been taken to a higher standard then it should have been. In fact I know it did. I have the email to prove it. So I took them down. For now. Maybe I'll go back and edit them. In a clear frame of mind.
There was detail I didn't need in there as well. I know I said I wanted to be open and honest more in my writing. So I will be. But the things I really want to say will have to be read later. A book perhaps? Oh not to mention most of what I wrote didn't make any fucking sense! Spelling and grammar errors. Lame on my part. I know better. Really I do. Most people know I'm a decent writer.
So I'm sorry. Yes, I had my first surgery. Yes I had a cancer scare. Yes it is always a big deal, but really I'm a touch cookie. I didn't need to be bothered with drama in the aftermath. Second hand information can make you look foolish. Just saying.
Friday, September 9, 2011
And So It Begins
Billie Holiday
No food or drink after midnight
Bottle caps
Buzz
Writers block
What comes to mind? Just go with it. Really write until you can think of something to say right? Keep the fingers moving is what they say. Keep them going till that idea pops into your head. But I'm having trouble with the idea. I just keep...
*POP*
Nope wont work. I could create. Easily write my life on paper. Past, present and future (hopes and dreams) but again the part that stops me is having to "code word" for everything and everyone. Damn it. So I've lived and I've done, seen, experienced) maybe right and maybe wrong) but it's my life! I should be able to put into words how I saw it. I how see it still. Names, dates, sounds, smells, tastes, etc.. But mostly names. Why can't I talk about certain people? For fear of what? Hurting them? Exposing them? It might be real what I write but you don't have to believe me. A select few would really "know" and others would think I was insane. All I can think of is what I've been trough. How I've felt. Maybe it's nothing new to others but how it happened to me is strictly different from you, and you, and even YOU! Get off my back! My life is how I see it!
I hear too much... "Put your life into words!! Write a book!!" Yah ok write a book huh? And have to make up names and change situations just so I don't ruin something for the people I talk about? Something that happened in our past? Should I really care? Would they hold it against me? Better yet I could just say "fuck them" and start from the beginning.
OK fine lets be real. Do I use the names? You'll know them anyway. Like the book I read recently about an Indian woman who wrote about her friends and their real life tales and horrors. The book was email based first then picked up and published. A smash hit! An eye-opener!! A real true tale. What did they call it? The Indian version of "Sex in the City" and it really was!!! In the end some of the "friends" stopped talking to the author of the book. They were hurt to have their lives presented to the public, but it was because the author wrote about their horrible experiences. It's like a car wreck right? You want to keep looking but as soon as you see the grotesque you hate yourself for starring. But then there were others. Those friends that had their lives put under a microscope and when sought out by the same general public, of their country, they were met with relief. They were not alone in their convictions and actions. It had happened to many and now others didn't feel alone.
So what do I use the names of family and friends? It's on the internet. How many of you will actually read this? But will it be the guilt that gets me? Is it so wrong that I want and need to get these secrets off my back? That I have a story at all? Some people don't. On a larger scale is my story any different? Will it change the turn of events? No. Not really. Could it? Maybe for someone. Maybe for the people I write about.
Maybe I'll start from the beginning? Maybe I'll start from here. At this movement in my time. Where I feel the shift of plates under me. A crack in the soil to follow. What a fine jagged line to skirt around. That's a happy thought. However the path so smoothly paved has been laid for me. Do I conform? Do I jump back on the road to "where life needs to lead" or do I stay on my crack and zig zag like I have been all my life? Where has that gotten me really? My zig and zag and hop and skip? Oh yes:
Love
Travel
Worldly Experiences
Knowledge
Heart Break
Learned Situations
and mostly MUSIC
So its not like having the easy road means I wont experience. Or hear life as I do. Maybe it's what I need. Maybe it's part of my journey. Maybe if that flat road of conformity turns out to be boring I'll jump in a lake!
So here it is. The now. Maybe the past will come in, maybe not. Maybe I'll write me book on the side. My past can catch up with my present. It only makes for more chapters I'm assuming. Shit at this rate this will not be on the "Best Seller's" List.
No food or drink after midnight
Bottle caps
Buzz
Writers block
What comes to mind? Just go with it. Really write until you can think of something to say right? Keep the fingers moving is what they say. Keep them going till that idea pops into your head. But I'm having trouble with the idea. I just keep...
*POP*
Nope wont work. I could create. Easily write my life on paper. Past, present and future (hopes and dreams) but again the part that stops me is having to "code word" for everything and everyone. Damn it. So I've lived and I've done, seen, experienced) maybe right and maybe wrong) but it's my life! I should be able to put into words how I saw it. I how see it still. Names, dates, sounds, smells, tastes, etc.. But mostly names. Why can't I talk about certain people? For fear of what? Hurting them? Exposing them? It might be real what I write but you don't have to believe me. A select few would really "know" and others would think I was insane. All I can think of is what I've been trough. How I've felt. Maybe it's nothing new to others but how it happened to me is strictly different from you, and you, and even YOU! Get off my back! My life is how I see it!
I hear too much... "Put your life into words!! Write a book!!" Yah ok write a book huh? And have to make up names and change situations just so I don't ruin something for the people I talk about? Something that happened in our past? Should I really care? Would they hold it against me? Better yet I could just say "fuck them" and start from the beginning.
OK fine lets be real. Do I use the names? You'll know them anyway. Like the book I read recently about an Indian woman who wrote about her friends and their real life tales and horrors. The book was email based first then picked up and published. A smash hit! An eye-opener!! A real true tale. What did they call it? The Indian version of "Sex in the City" and it really was!!! In the end some of the "friends" stopped talking to the author of the book. They were hurt to have their lives presented to the public, but it was because the author wrote about their horrible experiences. It's like a car wreck right? You want to keep looking but as soon as you see the grotesque you hate yourself for starring. But then there were others. Those friends that had their lives put under a microscope and when sought out by the same general public, of their country, they were met with relief. They were not alone in their convictions and actions. It had happened to many and now others didn't feel alone.
So what do I use the names of family and friends? It's on the internet. How many of you will actually read this? But will it be the guilt that gets me? Is it so wrong that I want and need to get these secrets off my back? That I have a story at all? Some people don't. On a larger scale is my story any different? Will it change the turn of events? No. Not really. Could it? Maybe for someone. Maybe for the people I write about.
Maybe I'll start from the beginning? Maybe I'll start from here. At this movement in my time. Where I feel the shift of plates under me. A crack in the soil to follow. What a fine jagged line to skirt around. That's a happy thought. However the path so smoothly paved has been laid for me. Do I conform? Do I jump back on the road to "where life needs to lead" or do I stay on my crack and zig zag like I have been all my life? Where has that gotten me really? My zig and zag and hop and skip? Oh yes:
Love
Travel
Worldly Experiences
Knowledge
Heart Break
Learned Situations
and mostly MUSIC
So its not like having the easy road means I wont experience. Or hear life as I do. Maybe it's what I need. Maybe it's part of my journey. Maybe if that flat road of conformity turns out to be boring I'll jump in a lake!
So here it is. The now. Maybe the past will come in, maybe not. Maybe I'll write me book on the side. My past can catch up with my present. It only makes for more chapters I'm assuming. Shit at this rate this will not be on the "Best Seller's" List.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)