I write in scattered bits
and pieces fall between the work I'm leaving
undone on the pages before and after the words
often appearing out of nowhere, and nothing
when love is filling
feeling frustrated
those determined to see for what I once was is no longer
apparently I should sit in
sit still, should I
then smile as you slip your hand into mine
close my mind. You've found me and I'm there in her words
before we'd ever met.
Stay awake all night to pick apart into this
and the differences in a rush, in a now and a then
my God this love -- you receive unto me -- I could be silently
sweetly spinning in your world of gold
fiery microscopic
magnificent birthing twine from the folds of my skin
where my belly button hides at times when I forget
naked -- pressed between a mattress and a sheet
a floor and a ceiling, door and a window
trains outside -- people living a few feet below
they are high, they are filling
both smoke tumbling into something
a sky and some prayers --
words bleeding out through my ears and toes and sometimes fingertips
blessed with coagulation, skin and mouth press it together
again a voice, dripping, filled you overflow from
him, his eyes open mine
just like the first time. I can't help but say it.
I would stay awake til' morning
if I wasn't so scared of going insane.
"Tragedy" - Brandi Carlile
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
just something
there are lots of things going on inside of me right now. lots. and i keep more to myself then i have in years. i keep to myself and up with him and trying to figure it all out. all of it, slowly.
i would like to write fiction. i would like to get a good night's sleep, in a warm bed, in a cold room with the air conditioner running full blast (or maybe just the windows open with a cold cold air rushing in, yeah that would be much better). i would like to fall asleep with a smile. i would like to run again, for real. i would like to feel like an important part of the greater whole, not that i don't, really, already feel like that but maybe something more along the lines of a team all working towards one goal, together. something i know i can do, something tangible. i would love to be overwhelmed on a regular basis.
all of these keep me quiet. all of these keep me thinking. all of these...
things are changing. shifting. people are shifting. and nothing is the same as it was 5 months ago. nothing is familiar to what it was 2 years ago. one year ago.
things, people, and ways are cleaving apart. i cannot explain to you who i am or who i want to be come but if you love me you will be patient. love is understanding and i hope to understand.
i would like to write fiction. i would like to get a good night's sleep, in a warm bed, in a cold room with the air conditioner running full blast (or maybe just the windows open with a cold cold air rushing in, yeah that would be much better). i would like to fall asleep with a smile. i would like to run again, for real. i would like to feel like an important part of the greater whole, not that i don't, really, already feel like that but maybe something more along the lines of a team all working towards one goal, together. something i know i can do, something tangible. i would love to be overwhelmed on a regular basis.
all of these keep me quiet. all of these keep me thinking. all of these...
things are changing. shifting. people are shifting. and nothing is the same as it was 5 months ago. nothing is familiar to what it was 2 years ago. one year ago.
things, people, and ways are cleaving apart. i cannot explain to you who i am or who i want to be come but if you love me you will be patient. love is understanding and i hope to understand.
Monday, July 23, 2007
industrial size fan on our ceiling
life's incrementing artistry - lives intertwined
filled with the hope of a better way - an unpained breath
and living, in a world where few really seek happiness,
God it's hard --but your life is your own
and ever increasing with those you'd never otherwise've known
before, that moment
that exact moment that fell, falling, fallen
into place with your mistakes--the ones that made you rip away at
any one who wasn't everyone else.
you were alone
in a room, compartmented for something like a better comprehension
and a moment you'd attempted that suddenly became months, after it'd been days
slipping into something less is so much easier than expectation
than hoping you could be something slightly out of the ordinary.
(than hoping for, lack of a better word, love)
and when your guts stuck between the clenching knuckles of someone whose first pet you'd never name, whose sister you'd never meet
a hand you'd never hold--filling yourself with the joys of the world
joy?
and when we paused tears fell.
we fell to our knees never caring that the bones crept through our skin
the blood trickling steadily down the slopes of our curving legs and arms
we were fascinated by something like an escape from him, or her, or it
manifested realities--YOU CHOOSE THEM, something we seem to forget
from the lower cased existence they were all so pleased with--we screamed
into my pillow late at night, i bite til' i bled and i bet you didn't know you were
are--my inflammatory system--inflamed, scabbing, pulsing, cleaving edema
a friendly bruise, a forgotten x amount of time before you
an entire span of time unscathed, had i known you existed i would've better prepared
myself for your coming, but then falling might've never felt so sweet
complete, worthy of the scars, shaking hands with those who'd forgot
thankful we left ourselves unsettled, depressed
suffocating until the day
never did i ever know what it felt like to want to live
creating smothering satisfaction
we are anything but ordinary
however, when our bodies aline all the world leaps up
crashes down,
falls away like when a very large waves first hits the city
wipes away instantly, everything that once seemed to matter
empty clear land, wet from the demolition
you are my possibility; my clear, clean reason
you're my oceanic hurricane, stirring, spitting--everything
we find ourselves in the eye
cross legged, together
silently staring
into you and me and it's as simple
as complex as you and i sitting
still, staring
and i don't have to explain because you already know what i mean
you already knew, this is what i would say
"Interstate Love Song" - Stone Temple Pilots
filled with the hope of a better way - an unpained breath
and living, in a world where few really seek happiness,
God it's hard --but your life is your own
and ever increasing with those you'd never otherwise've known
before, that moment
that exact moment that fell, falling, fallen
into place with your mistakes--the ones that made you rip away at
any one who wasn't everyone else.
you were alone
in a room, compartmented for something like a better comprehension
and a moment you'd attempted that suddenly became months, after it'd been days
slipping into something less is so much easier than expectation
than hoping you could be something slightly out of the ordinary.
(than hoping for, lack of a better word, love)
and when your guts stuck between the clenching knuckles of someone whose first pet you'd never name, whose sister you'd never meet
a hand you'd never hold--filling yourself with the joys of the world
joy?
and when we paused tears fell.
we fell to our knees never caring that the bones crept through our skin
the blood trickling steadily down the slopes of our curving legs and arms
we were fascinated by something like an escape from him, or her, or it
manifested realities--YOU CHOOSE THEM, something we seem to forget
from the lower cased existence they were all so pleased with--we screamed
into my pillow late at night, i bite til' i bled and i bet you didn't know you were
are--my inflammatory system--inflamed, scabbing, pulsing, cleaving edema
a friendly bruise, a forgotten x amount of time before you
an entire span of time unscathed, had i known you existed i would've better prepared
myself for your coming, but then falling might've never felt so sweet
complete, worthy of the scars, shaking hands with those who'd forgot
thankful we left ourselves unsettled, depressed
suffocating until the day
never did i ever know what it felt like to want to live
creating smothering satisfaction
we are anything but ordinary
however, when our bodies aline all the world leaps up
crashes down,
falls away like when a very large waves first hits the city
wipes away instantly, everything that once seemed to matter
empty clear land, wet from the demolition
you are my possibility; my clear, clean reason
you're my oceanic hurricane, stirring, spitting--everything
we find ourselves in the eye
cross legged, together
silently staring
into you and me and it's as simple
as complex as you and i sitting
still, staring
and i don't have to explain because you already know what i mean
you already knew, this is what i would say
"Interstate Love Song" - Stone Temple Pilots
Monday, July 9, 2007
retreat
there are certain things and places; from birth I've been told to believe in
and we've all been convinced of something, of sadness
inevitability. the laze at the end of a hard earned day,
the gaze into nothing but, except, the wires whose tips tap haphazardly into one another
spark, flip, contort and awkwardly twist -- a bright, sudden light from the graying edges
a life suddenly lit where before there was none.
not even the moistened tip of a tongue could procure.
these things and moments and people we've become so accustomed to, so unenthused
that when we find something worth living for we're scared?
scared to breath faster
scared to kiss open mouthed, open eyed
ease out of apathy into a new way of thinking
of feeling again, to realize you were changed by the mismatched wires in the past
the connect, conduct, build
current -- it's electric
alive. living.
day by days that feel like months
that feel like a tinge of what we might should've learned from the get go
a nod to what we've done, a forward footed dash into what we'll be.
and we've all been convinced of something, of sadness
inevitability. the laze at the end of a hard earned day,
the gaze into nothing but, except, the wires whose tips tap haphazardly into one another
spark, flip, contort and awkwardly twist -- a bright, sudden light from the graying edges
a life suddenly lit where before there was none.
not even the moistened tip of a tongue could procure.
these things and moments and people we've become so accustomed to, so unenthused
that when we find something worth living for we're scared?
scared to breath faster
scared to kiss open mouthed, open eyed
ease out of apathy into a new way of thinking
of feeling again, to realize you were changed by the mismatched wires in the past
the connect, conduct, build
current -- it's electric
alive. living.
day by days that feel like months
that feel like a tinge of what we might should've learned from the get go
a nod to what we've done, a forward footed dash into what we'll be.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
it gives you wings
I am strong
self-assurance
I am strengthening
my grip
I am gripping, collapsing
the weakness of who was once
I am.
A picture in the frame, nailed
to the wall--without glass
over exposed and talking
always talking, moving--your movement
alive
with the glory
and I'm sitting here
smiling--your driving
your new music
new smile
traveling hands, in the air
over fences, barbed wire
single-sided swinging doors
I am
uncovering
a simpler way to live
to experience everything--challenge,endure,exposure
really, finally just living
on the outside
the sun, the night, giving back what i've been given to
abundancy--life,love,and otherwise--
hands held trust again--gripping shoulder's in the sun
on a tightrope we'll run
and i can't wait to sleep just to see a tomorrow,
hoping i'll see you there.
self-assurance
I am strengthening
my grip
I am gripping, collapsing
the weakness of who was once
I am.
A picture in the frame, nailed
to the wall--without glass
over exposed and talking
always talking, moving--your movement
alive
with the glory
and I'm sitting here
smiling--your driving
your new music
new smile
traveling hands, in the air
over fences, barbed wire
single-sided swinging doors
I am
uncovering
a simpler way to live
to experience everything--challenge,endure,exposure
really, finally just living
on the outside
the sun, the night, giving back what i've been given to
abundancy--life,love,and otherwise--
hands held trust again--gripping shoulder's in the sun
on a tightrope we'll run
and i can't wait to sleep just to see a tomorrow,
hoping i'll see you there.
Monday, May 21, 2007
check "yes"
In his arms flecked with paint he'd never held
something so carefully as he once hadn't held her heart.
Properly she sat beside him now,
beside where he'd once felt
her and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
She could talk, she could breath, still,
and so she supposed she'd feel his eyes
all over her, still. Things hadn't changed.
It'd been a year, locked on swollen skin
and he said what she'd needed to hear.
The words that made her fall, still
she saw him for what she'd wanted back when and then
she wanted it to be too late, to be so unforgiven.
Still he'd broken, the one place she'd never given
and living here still, the two together sit--the space between expanding
once lives, now cement; and she's supposed to be the one to fight.
The ants are crawling on her skin, she lets them--his eyes
eating away her t-shirt and jeans
stewing in her nakedness, she has no choice but to conceed to his
memorizing, photographing--his photographic memory she'd meant
to ask him to stop but instead fallen asleep still kneeling, head lain carefully in his lap.
Like his arm 'round her shoulder, he'd shaken her 'wake to save
himself--casualty, moves--and "Something In The Way She Moves" plays
and she hates herself all over again for letting him
cheat and win, the boy--little boy she'd first loved.
Fed every cliche
ripping at the seams of every stuffed animal
plastic flower, puppy dog, diamond heart-shaped necklace
her baby, two time valentine
and still, she said what she needed to say--
he swears he's changed, for the third time
and she wants to,
needs to,
has to,
seems to
believe.
But believings not enough in a world worth tasting
tactile & stimulating--the left over spit up in a restaurant napkin
she'd been.
Rejection at the root of every hair he'd ever spun
around a finger he then placed on the tip of another's tongue
he'd taste anything--his prayer for feeling,
his quell for an otherwise emotionless
him, still.
She will never understand how she came to be this way
this person so apart from these, otherwise so easily appeased
she has him to thank for only that--his entiredy changed.
She left to just
breath
learn to play, alone
she wants to sing, where she's torn
and mend, to run, on the outside
to lay and see her bones exposed
her confidence returned to her
stolen in the night.
the victim, she only sees his eyes
hands, self on her when she closes her own.
"Neon" - The Knife
something so carefully as he once hadn't held her heart.
Properly she sat beside him now,
beside where he'd once felt
her and she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
She could talk, she could breath, still,
and so she supposed she'd feel his eyes
all over her, still. Things hadn't changed.
It'd been a year, locked on swollen skin
and he said what she'd needed to hear.
The words that made her fall, still
she saw him for what she'd wanted back when and then
she wanted it to be too late, to be so unforgiven.
Still he'd broken, the one place she'd never given
and living here still, the two together sit--the space between expanding
once lives, now cement; and she's supposed to be the one to fight.
The ants are crawling on her skin, she lets them--his eyes
eating away her t-shirt and jeans
stewing in her nakedness, she has no choice but to conceed to his
memorizing, photographing--his photographic memory she'd meant
to ask him to stop but instead fallen asleep still kneeling, head lain carefully in his lap.
Like his arm 'round her shoulder, he'd shaken her 'wake to save
himself--casualty, moves--and "Something In The Way She Moves" plays
and she hates herself all over again for letting him
cheat and win, the boy--little boy she'd first loved.
Fed every cliche
ripping at the seams of every stuffed animal
plastic flower, puppy dog, diamond heart-shaped necklace
her baby, two time valentine
and still, she said what she needed to say--
he swears he's changed, for the third time
and she wants to,
needs to,
has to,
seems to
believe.
But believings not enough in a world worth tasting
tactile & stimulating--the left over spit up in a restaurant napkin
she'd been.
Rejection at the root of every hair he'd ever spun
around a finger he then placed on the tip of another's tongue
he'd taste anything--his prayer for feeling,
his quell for an otherwise emotionless
him, still.
She will never understand how she came to be this way
this person so apart from these, otherwise so easily appeased
she has him to thank for only that--his entiredy changed.
She left to just
breath
learn to play, alone
she wants to sing, where she's torn
and mend, to run, on the outside
to lay and see her bones exposed
her confidence returned to her
stolen in the night.
the victim, she only sees his eyes
hands, self on her when she closes her own.
"Neon" - The Knife
Monday, May 14, 2007
what i've wanted to say
Blessed be, I hadn't heard your name in awhile
Not that I'd forgotten, more or less a little too busy
I thought maybe I'd just wait another day to call
A more convenient time perhaps, when life wasn't so filled
With sex and desire
And I feel stupid coming here now, too late
Out of place and afraid – of rejection
Of not getting what I want, which is? The answer, to my nagging
self, and I've discovered self doubt and along with found me
insecurity, but with you I never knew what today might feel like
alone, still breathing, I've forgotten your number—your middle name
I can't catch my breath – the air's really thick here you know?
I don't remember any of this from before – would I recognize you if you were here today?
Would I grab your hand? Could I again…did I ever, seek humility
life less pride – what purpose have I served thus far, what strength have you granted
that I noticed?
Where has my grace filled grateful heart gone? Where would I go if the world were stripped away from me? Where is the stillness of my dwelling place, my solitude, my warmth in a room all alone…all alone?
Where is the escape, the arms—of the world, of ever single living, breathing soul—here and gone…where are you that I once knew?
And who am I becoming that I can no longer sing…rebellion for liberation? For what…for whose acceptance and approval am I living?
Doubt. Is it that? Whispering approvals, "yes" understood by the selves of so many individual...where was I then? Where were you? What twist caused this…gradual…step down, turn, release, space between—fluid filled—broken, swollen, torn aftermath
Where is my conviction then? When I'm broken. When I'm torn. When I'm filled, emptied and filled again…with what?
With whom?
With it…can you quit
what you don't even understand how it was you began…
through the bitterness can you become again, what you've lost. Is that the goal. Does it require this much…decision making. Or are we always deciding, searching, wondering, questioning, straining,
upset at ourselves for becoming everything we once would hate.
And that hatred lives in my heart makes it break even more, because that's the only way to explain it—brokenness.
Even every single word I've ever tried to create into poetry cannot explain the void I've escaped into for so long now it's become natural.
They don't even know I ever claimed You. They never heard me sing through tears on bended knee at the alter, the pew, the front steps, stage, back door, wind ridden sand shores, the streets flooding in midnight rains, folding chairs, in hallways and sanctuaries
Is this living at all…where do I go to seek redemption through truth? Where do I go to regain my trust, Yours?
Where do I shed my tears and break the skin of my palms…whose feet…whose arms…whose hand needs holding?
Lead me. Need me. See me. Redeem. Forgive. Understand, I'm confused and seeking and forever I'm loving in so many different ways.
A love even I cannot understand – a love without simplicity
Uncategorized, without limit, the soft sooth of remembrance without regret
Experience freed from expectation;
Only wishing, needing, wanting – to please, fulfill
Fill You.
Feel me again please…I'm fighting it still.
Not that I'd forgotten, more or less a little too busy
I thought maybe I'd just wait another day to call
A more convenient time perhaps, when life wasn't so filled
With sex and desire
And I feel stupid coming here now, too late
Out of place and afraid – of rejection
Of not getting what I want, which is? The answer, to my nagging
self, and I've discovered self doubt and along with found me
insecurity, but with you I never knew what today might feel like
alone, still breathing, I've forgotten your number—your middle name
I can't catch my breath – the air's really thick here you know?
I don't remember any of this from before – would I recognize you if you were here today?
Would I grab your hand? Could I again…did I ever, seek humility
life less pride – what purpose have I served thus far, what strength have you granted
that I noticed?
Where has my grace filled grateful heart gone? Where would I go if the world were stripped away from me? Where is the stillness of my dwelling place, my solitude, my warmth in a room all alone…all alone?
Where is the escape, the arms—of the world, of ever single living, breathing soul—here and gone…where are you that I once knew?
And who am I becoming that I can no longer sing…rebellion for liberation? For what…for whose acceptance and approval am I living?
Doubt. Is it that? Whispering approvals, "yes" understood by the selves of so many individual...where was I then? Where were you? What twist caused this…gradual…step down, turn, release, space between—fluid filled—broken, swollen, torn aftermath
Where is my conviction then? When I'm broken. When I'm torn. When I'm filled, emptied and filled again…with what?
With whom?
With it…can you quit
what you don't even understand how it was you began…
through the bitterness can you become again, what you've lost. Is that the goal. Does it require this much…decision making. Or are we always deciding, searching, wondering, questioning, straining,
upset at ourselves for becoming everything we once would hate.
And that hatred lives in my heart makes it break even more, because that's the only way to explain it—brokenness.
Even every single word I've ever tried to create into poetry cannot explain the void I've escaped into for so long now it's become natural.
They don't even know I ever claimed You. They never heard me sing through tears on bended knee at the alter, the pew, the front steps, stage, back door, wind ridden sand shores, the streets flooding in midnight rains, folding chairs, in hallways and sanctuaries
Is this living at all…where do I go to seek redemption through truth? Where do I go to regain my trust, Yours?
Where do I shed my tears and break the skin of my palms…whose feet…whose arms…whose hand needs holding?
Lead me. Need me. See me. Redeem. Forgive. Understand, I'm confused and seeking and forever I'm loving in so many different ways.
A love even I cannot understand – a love without simplicity
Uncategorized, without limit, the soft sooth of remembrance without regret
Experience freed from expectation;
Only wishing, needing, wanting – to please, fulfill
Fill You.
Feel me again please…I'm fighting it still.
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