In Sanskrit, there is a phrase: TAT TUAM ASI. Roughly translated, it means: THOU ART THAT. The concept is that just as we cannot live in joy or anger without joy or anger living within us, we cannot live in this universe without this universe existing within us. From the simplicity of the elements we share to the too-impressive-to-fathom spark of life that lights all beings, everything under the sun is reflected in the microcosm of ourselves.
It may sound elementary on one hand and whimsical on the other, but can it be pertinent to our everyday?
The fact is that in today’s global environment, the idea is more pertinent than ever. Right now we’re provided every opportunity to distract ourselves and to consume wildly, without once having to consider what voids we are really attempting to fill. Society seems to be increasingly based on self absorption and lack of reflection, a path that is leading us progressively farther from our true selves, each other, and our place in this universe.
The message of TAT TUAM ASI is a simple but powerful one, and I ask that you try on this perspective for a minute or two.
Remember:
- We are every puddle; simultaneously a whole and a collection of drops.
- We are every tree; firmly planted through our storms and transformations.
- We are every person who we perceive as hateful, ignorant, selfish, impatient, etc. We dislike in others reflections of qualities that we are shameful of in ourselves, it’s just easier to point fingers than be honest about our own shortcomings. Negative feelings are natural and necessary, it’s how we react to and manifest these feelings that we’re in control of. Today, recognize that we all have our ugly moments, but we are not ugly people. Take the opportunity to react to the negativity of others in a positive way.
- We often react to the joys of even our dearest friends with a modicum of jealousy and bitterness. Remember that the joy of others can serve to remind us of our own capacity for joy; their luck indicative of the our own waves of fortune. Be happy for the joy of others. Smile at a stranger, so that they may remember to smile.
I know it may sound corny (stop sneering, or your face will stick like that). But honestly, if we close ourselves to the positive possibilities of the universe what are we left with?
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Unstable
If change is constant
Then we are permanent
Eternal on this flaming roller coaster
Emotional cocktail shaker of closer, lighter
Double the dose
I can’t tell if I’m penning a Valentine
Or spilling the lines of a Dear John with your damn name
But I don’t even have anything to walk away from
And I can’t pine and whine over the dissipation of dreams I wasn’t sure I wanted to have come true
No name to my feelings
No right to you
Whirlwind around me
As you close the door
Then we are permanent
Eternal on this flaming roller coaster
Emotional cocktail shaker of closer, lighter
Double the dose
I can’t tell if I’m penning a Valentine
Or spilling the lines of a Dear John with your damn name
But I don’t even have anything to walk away from
And I can’t pine and whine over the dissipation of dreams I wasn’t sure I wanted to have come true
No name to my feelings
No right to you
Whirlwind around me
As you close the door
Sepia Dreams
I can never find the words
To put to
What you do
To me
But I think you see
Quite clearly
The script you are writing in the comfort of your director’s chair
I am a matinee heroine
No matter what screaming horror role you write me into
Like a room with no windows
Trapped and alone
Perfect movie poster
Cracked around the edges and unsure of itself in the harsh daylight
Frozen in time and mind through the lens of this memory
To put to
What you do
To me
But I think you see
Quite clearly
The script you are writing in the comfort of your director’s chair
I am a matinee heroine
No matter what screaming horror role you write me into
Like a room with no windows
Trapped and alone
Perfect movie poster
Cracked around the edges and unsure of itself in the harsh daylight
Frozen in time and mind through the lens of this memory
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Inside my lines there resides
The sticky sentiments behind my leaps of language
And inside my frequent cries of isolation and incomprehension
Is my call to kindreds
The soulful
The bare and wandering
Who in dark and separate rooms
Plead the hopes we cannot speak
Amid the sad candles that burn
For light and not romance
And where the music seeps through cracks
And into pores
Igniting hearts that are already open
And asking
So much so deeply
Of the speckled night sky
And between those jaded twinkling wishes
Lodged between our pressing and cosmic concerns
Floating on the mantras of our prayer
We will find each other
In bold and naked truth
The sticky sentiments behind my leaps of language
And inside my frequent cries of isolation and incomprehension
Is my call to kindreds
The soulful
The bare and wandering
Who in dark and separate rooms
Plead the hopes we cannot speak
Amid the sad candles that burn
For light and not romance
And where the music seeps through cracks
And into pores
Igniting hearts that are already open
And asking
So much so deeply
Of the speckled night sky
And between those jaded twinkling wishes
Lodged between our pressing and cosmic concerns
Floating on the mantras of our prayer
We will find each other
In bold and naked truth
Monday, October 09, 2006
Reflections
1.
Over my years
Worn and tattered though they be
I have held to my heart countless dreams
And their fears
I have cried until I thought I would die
Or could and not care
I have doodled more names than I can recall
Both in my youth
And in shameful moments of youthful fantasy behind these current closed doors
I have spilled my soul like apocalyptic downpours
On well intentioned and kind companions
Who could not catch my drops
Let alone swim my floods
And now from here
Steady old sun blazing through the disintegrating grey
I am a blossom shaking off the rain
Fragile and lovely but unbreakable in a storm
Hopeful and eager to see
What my future hindsight will show
2.
In this life thus far
I have been moved
By soulsd and words
And the vibrant vivid fearless few
Who have basked and bathed in the muck and rainbows of my mind
And have equally allowed me to revel in their realities
I have been astounded by the random intimicies
That have struck like lightening to dry wood
And amazed at the speed with which even well crafted tapestries can come undone
One snag
So simply a pile of string
The smells of the days have whetted my whimsy
The cool medley of night has raised my skin and engaged me
Inflamed me to my next passion
And I stand on some cusp here
Fresh mid summer well past midnight here
Wondering what this morning mist
Is finally blowing my way
Over my years
Worn and tattered though they be
I have held to my heart countless dreams
And their fears
I have cried until I thought I would die
Or could and not care
I have doodled more names than I can recall
Both in my youth
And in shameful moments of youthful fantasy behind these current closed doors
I have spilled my soul like apocalyptic downpours
On well intentioned and kind companions
Who could not catch my drops
Let alone swim my floods
And now from here
Steady old sun blazing through the disintegrating grey
I am a blossom shaking off the rain
Fragile and lovely but unbreakable in a storm
Hopeful and eager to see
What my future hindsight will show
2.
In this life thus far
I have been moved
By soulsd and words
And the vibrant vivid fearless few
Who have basked and bathed in the muck and rainbows of my mind
And have equally allowed me to revel in their realities
I have been astounded by the random intimicies
That have struck like lightening to dry wood
And amazed at the speed with which even well crafted tapestries can come undone
One snag
So simply a pile of string
The smells of the days have whetted my whimsy
The cool medley of night has raised my skin and engaged me
Inflamed me to my next passion
And I stand on some cusp here
Fresh mid summer well past midnight here
Wondering what this morning mist
Is finally blowing my way
Friday, September 22, 2006
Spell
The incantations of my daydreams
Are slowly spelling out the happy ending of my unconventional urban fairy tale
Scratch that:
Not ending but rather new beginning
The inauguration of a new chapter
Me: The Happy Years
So with fingers crossed and eyes pressed shut
I am wishing on all the stars
Blowing out all the candles
And plucking my own lucky eyelashes to increase my odds
As I focus on what I really want
A series or realities so very close to nearly here
So close that my head is already at future dinner parties
Hostess with the mostest plus a smile and a sway
(You'll wink at me from across the room when you don't think the guests can see)
I am thinking of the unpoetic details
Of mortgages
Maybe even a business loan
So that we may have the poetry of a ribbon cutting ceremony on our dreams
Family vacations
Photo albums
A real sticky Christmas tree and fresh garden flowers
We will spend our smiling time in the organic section
And at markets
And we will nest
Gathering things beautiful and comfortable with which to line our future
And speaking of futures
And ceremonies
I bet we will dazzle them all
I think we'll give them faith somehow
Maybe even blow their minds barefoot
And our days will be bright
Our nights cozy
And our entrances always grand
Are slowly spelling out the happy ending of my unconventional urban fairy tale
Scratch that:
Not ending but rather new beginning
The inauguration of a new chapter
Me: The Happy Years
So with fingers crossed and eyes pressed shut
I am wishing on all the stars
Blowing out all the candles
And plucking my own lucky eyelashes to increase my odds
As I focus on what I really want
A series or realities so very close to nearly here
So close that my head is already at future dinner parties
Hostess with the mostest plus a smile and a sway
(You'll wink at me from across the room when you don't think the guests can see)
I am thinking of the unpoetic details
Of mortgages
Maybe even a business loan
So that we may have the poetry of a ribbon cutting ceremony on our dreams
Family vacations
Photo albums
A real sticky Christmas tree and fresh garden flowers
We will spend our smiling time in the organic section
And at markets
And we will nest
Gathering things beautiful and comfortable with which to line our future
And speaking of futures
And ceremonies
I bet we will dazzle them all
I think we'll give them faith somehow
Maybe even blow their minds barefoot
And our days will be bright
Our nights cozy
And our entrances always grand
Sacred City
Scavengers do brisk business
In this forest grown of bricks and mortar,
But sucking life is not illegal and leaves zombies but no ghosts ---
Or few.
I’ve built formative memories
On sacred fountains in city squares
And the wildlife that only comes out at night.
Once you have learned to brave this jungle
Nothing scares you except anything else;
But no one tells you that when you’re knee high to a grasshopper
And already convinced of your own disillusionment,
Chatting up the tourists
While the band plays and the night turns on.
We learn to plant dreams in sidewalk cracks
And pray that the buildings don’t blot out their sun
Or the latte crowd beat down their chances.
From pristine shopping meccas,
To churches as they bleed back into the earth,
For a city raised on faith
The gods that rule here now smoke too much and have a smile I don’t trust, The goddesses wear too much makeup and have forgotten their elemental powers.
But truly there is nothing new under the moon filled starless sky,
Even if our gardens grow accountants
And buskers sing our bards’ lullabies.
And we answer to the same callings
That had us dancing our prayers around the fires we worshipped,
But in our distraction now
All we hear are sound bites and lottery results,
Explosions and pop riffs,
And even drowning in this sea of authentic artificial flavors
And plastic surgery on prime time
We can still feel the universe just enough
For us to hope for more.
In this forest grown of bricks and mortar,
But sucking life is not illegal and leaves zombies but no ghosts ---
Or few.
I’ve built formative memories
On sacred fountains in city squares
And the wildlife that only comes out at night.
Once you have learned to brave this jungle
Nothing scares you except anything else;
But no one tells you that when you’re knee high to a grasshopper
And already convinced of your own disillusionment,
Chatting up the tourists
While the band plays and the night turns on.
We learn to plant dreams in sidewalk cracks
And pray that the buildings don’t blot out their sun
Or the latte crowd beat down their chances.
From pristine shopping meccas,
To churches as they bleed back into the earth,
For a city raised on faith
The gods that rule here now smoke too much and have a smile I don’t trust, The goddesses wear too much makeup and have forgotten their elemental powers.
But truly there is nothing new under the moon filled starless sky,
Even if our gardens grow accountants
And buskers sing our bards’ lullabies.
And we answer to the same callings
That had us dancing our prayers around the fires we worshipped,
But in our distraction now
All we hear are sound bites and lottery results,
Explosions and pop riffs,
And even drowning in this sea of authentic artificial flavors
And plastic surgery on prime time
We can still feel the universe just enough
For us to hope for more.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Bursting
Moon bursting
Honey gold nearly upon us
The sultry breath of full bloom summer
Is settling on my skin
Like lover's kisses gentle and firm
And in a flash of midnight
A pulse of the universe through these mortal veins
I'm in tune
In sweet touch and so far beyond
And my flesh is anticipation
My hips sudden music
My lips are thirsty
For life and love
For communion with the infinite and infinitesimal of these blissful nights
Honey gold nearly upon us
The sultry breath of full bloom summer
Is settling on my skin
Like lover's kisses gentle and firm
And in a flash of midnight
A pulse of the universe through these mortal veins
I'm in tune
In sweet touch and so far beyond
And my flesh is anticipation
My hips sudden music
My lips are thirsty
For life and love
For communion with the infinite and infinitesimal of these blissful nights
The Colour Of Light
This scene could only be rendered romantic
If another soul were here to witness this tragedy
These tears would serve a nobel purpose
If they induced loving arms to encircle my sad storm
The world will only seem real
And more importantly pertinent
And oh my soul, so beautiful once again
When someone arrives
To admire
The colour of this light with me
If another soul were here to witness this tragedy
These tears would serve a nobel purpose
If they induced loving arms to encircle my sad storm
The world will only seem real
And more importantly pertinent
And oh my soul, so beautiful once again
When someone arrives
To admire
The colour of this light with me
Irony
You will not read this.
If you did
By some calamity get to rest your eyes on these too true lines
You would not see yourself within them.
Amidst all the other kisses
You would not dream that I was right here and now
Reaching back into my not so distant past memory box
To contemplate yours.
What ifs and whys are the thin ice I dare not tread
(I'm rarely surefooted
Even on solid ground)
But I have not cried.
It would be a silly misery
A swift destruction of our small sanctuary.
If you did
By some calamity get to rest your eyes on these too true lines
You would not see yourself within them.
Amidst all the other kisses
You would not dream that I was right here and now
Reaching back into my not so distant past memory box
To contemplate yours.
What ifs and whys are the thin ice I dare not tread
(I'm rarely surefooted
Even on solid ground)
But I have not cried.
It would be a silly misery
A swift destruction of our small sanctuary.
Dearest #3
Dearest,
I heard it said once in the strangest of places, that if memories and dreams get tangled, it is as it should be.
In my false memories of you, there is more us; so much longer and more to hold onto now that you're gone. But speculation is a sad bedmate, and the nights drag through reeking of my renewed mistrust.
Truly,
Me
I heard it said once in the strangest of places, that if memories and dreams get tangled, it is as it should be.
In my false memories of you, there is more us; so much longer and more to hold onto now that you're gone. But speculation is a sad bedmate, and the nights drag through reeking of my renewed mistrust.
Truly,
Me
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Being
I'm on a non stop quest
Commercial free journey to the centerpiece of this perceived reality
And intangible though my rewards are destined to be
I expect those treasures will fill me satisfactorily
Because I know with unflinching certainty
That the crux of spirituality
Is balanced precariously on the precipice of insanity
Guarded by the sirens of passionate creativity and loving universality
That we must joyously embrace
Without remorse or distaste
The grits and juices of this life
That even through the highs and lows
We must remember to savor the flavors
Of
Each
Passing
Moment
Because the admittedly incredible accuracy of looking back
Can't help but naturally lack
The emotional poignancy
Heartwrenching suffering and glee
The messy and necessary everything worthwhile it takes
To simply and gloriously
Be
Commercial free journey to the centerpiece of this perceived reality
And intangible though my rewards are destined to be
I expect those treasures will fill me satisfactorily
Because I know with unflinching certainty
That the crux of spirituality
Is balanced precariously on the precipice of insanity
Guarded by the sirens of passionate creativity and loving universality
That we must joyously embrace
Without remorse or distaste
The grits and juices of this life
That even through the highs and lows
We must remember to savor the flavors
Of
Each
Passing
Moment
Because the admittedly incredible accuracy of looking back
Can't help but naturally lack
The emotional poignancy
Heartwrenching suffering and glee
The messy and necessary everything worthwhile it takes
To simply and gloriously
Be
In today's sparkly daydream
I am decorating an urban hot spot penthouse
For two
Where you keep coming home to me
And I to you
And in this particular sweet technicolour brain tease
I feel the full force of inertia
The fierce fire of optimism ablaze
These simple lazy smiles giving meaning to my days
Adequate monuments to the joys of my spent time
Testaments in themselves to the moments I have breathed
I am decorating an urban hot spot penthouse
For two
Where you keep coming home to me
And I to you
And in this particular sweet technicolour brain tease
I feel the full force of inertia
The fierce fire of optimism ablaze
These simple lazy smiles giving meaning to my days
Adequate monuments to the joys of my spent time
Testaments in themselves to the moments I have breathed
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
I woke up in the middle of last night
(This morning really
But so impertinent a distinction
And so hard to judge)
Thinking I was willfully standing in front of a speeding bullet train
Or on a serene and stunning moonwalk
But only daydreaming my air supply
And though my mind was spinning and yelling and warning and withdrawing
I didn't feel it
And my usually tricky itchy trigger gut feeling
Was lying back chillaxing and basking
In the brief bliss of sweet touches and soft smiles
And though I have devised some doozies in my day
This does not feel like delusion
(This morning really
But so impertinent a distinction
And so hard to judge)
Thinking I was willfully standing in front of a speeding bullet train
Or on a serene and stunning moonwalk
But only daydreaming my air supply
And though my mind was spinning and yelling and warning and withdrawing
I didn't feel it
And my usually tricky itchy trigger gut feeling
Was lying back chillaxing and basking
In the brief bliss of sweet touches and soft smiles
And though I have devised some doozies in my day
This does not feel like delusion
Ice Cream Run
Crisp midnight grocery aisles
Faith wanders through
Unrecognized though melodious
Purifying the tired tiles
Shuffling through the ghosts
Inspiration hides among the glossy boxes
Bulging produce
And carcasses slowly rotting
Faith wanders through
Unrecognized though melodious
Purifying the tired tiles
Shuffling through the ghosts
Inspiration hides among the glossy boxes
Bulging produce
And carcasses slowly rotting
Friday, August 04, 2006
E-LIT-IST
I have in my acquaintance
A well meaning wannabe wordsmith
A stunted social misfit clinging to the convenient cover of artist's clothing
Not a person in possession of prophetic poetry
Rather a purveyor of lame alliterations
Metaphors measly and transparent
Cheap baubles fit to tempt
Only the giggling
Or the drunk
And speaking of transparency
I do stand firm in my glass home
Humble
Whole
And though soulfully moved by the sounds of syllables
I can't shake from my mind the meaning behind the design of my lines
The indescribable intangibles that we find in this life to be unfortunately inarticulable
I never set out to construct literarily impaired cardboard cutout catchphrases
Hooks lines but mostly sinkers
Out to snag booty and praises
So grasshopper
Prose poser
It's time for you to regroup your motivations
Drop your cheap facsimile of awe and fascination
And if you truly feel that this artistry is part and parcel with your destiny
Hone your skills and style
Skip the smile
Because imperfect and in progress though I may be
You lack the heart and imagery
To shoot this ink with me
A well meaning wannabe wordsmith
A stunted social misfit clinging to the convenient cover of artist's clothing
Not a person in possession of prophetic poetry
Rather a purveyor of lame alliterations
Metaphors measly and transparent
Cheap baubles fit to tempt
Only the giggling
Or the drunk
And speaking of transparency
I do stand firm in my glass home
Humble
Whole
And though soulfully moved by the sounds of syllables
I can't shake from my mind the meaning behind the design of my lines
The indescribable intangibles that we find in this life to be unfortunately inarticulable
I never set out to construct literarily impaired cardboard cutout catchphrases
Hooks lines but mostly sinkers
Out to snag booty and praises
So grasshopper
Prose poser
It's time for you to regroup your motivations
Drop your cheap facsimile of awe and fascination
And if you truly feel that this artistry is part and parcel with your destiny
Hone your skills and style
Skip the smile
Because imperfect and in progress though I may be
You lack the heart and imagery
To shoot this ink with me
Monday, July 31, 2006
Approximately 50 Words I Need More Of In My Life
1. respect
2. bliss
3. security
4. laughter
5. inspiration
6. progress
7. wine
8. bodypainting
9. fireworks
10. snowangels
11. candlelight
12. wonder
13. pampering
14. compassion
15. thunderstorms
16. faith
17. cloudbursting
18. breakfast in bed
19. spontonaety
20. sweet dreams
21. strong arms
22. music
23. patience
24. chivalry
25. naked cartoons & sugary cereal
26. trust
27. flowers
28. massages
29. passion
30. tenderness
31. surprises
32. stargazing
33. love notes
34. roadtrips
35. whispers
36. beautiful memories
37. flattery
38. picnics
39. smiling eyes
40. belonging
41. reasons to dress up
42. love
43. art
44. understanding
45. shared mornings
46. protection
47. creative romance
48. partnership
49. affection
50. dancing
2. bliss
3. security
4. laughter
5. inspiration
6. progress
7. wine
8. bodypainting
9. fireworks
10. snowangels
11. candlelight
12. wonder
13. pampering
14. compassion
15. thunderstorms
16. faith
17. cloudbursting
18. breakfast in bed
19. spontonaety
20. sweet dreams
21. strong arms
22. music
23. patience
24. chivalry
25. naked cartoons & sugary cereal
26. trust
27. flowers
28. massages
29. passion
30. tenderness
31. surprises
32. stargazing
33. love notes
34. roadtrips
35. whispers
36. beautiful memories
37. flattery
38. picnics
39. smiling eyes
40. belonging
41. reasons to dress up
42. love
43. art
44. understanding
45. shared mornings
46. protection
47. creative romance
48. partnership
49. affection
50. dancing
Getaway
Yes
The debaucherous days and nights we have joyfully burned
Will certainly make it to the pages of my history
Our laughter and play
Childlike and primal
Rewrites standards and will fill this sunbeam season
As we lay
And complain about how we can't find
This
With the people we want
But then
We can't find them either
And we hold each other
The debaucherous days and nights we have joyfully burned
Will certainly make it to the pages of my history
Our laughter and play
Childlike and primal
Rewrites standards and will fill this sunbeam season
As we lay
And complain about how we can't find
This
With the people we want
But then
We can't find them either
And we hold each other
Monday, July 17, 2006
Ode To Muses
Praise the soft muses as they dance
Through the particles of oxygen and smog
With celestial ease
My breath catches
Throat closes
Eyes well
And even if I had the strength to overcome all of that
Simple language would fail me
Bless the muses free and beautiful
Misty rainbows through the thick of clouds
And countless hearts closed and longing
Give thanks
Make offerings of blossoms
Honey
Glittering stones
To honor the angels
Nymph like
Bliss like
As they paint the dreams and plant the seeds
Unfolding our world with the chimes of their laughter
Through the particles of oxygen and smog
With celestial ease
My breath catches
Throat closes
Eyes well
And even if I had the strength to overcome all of that
Simple language would fail me
Bless the muses free and beautiful
Misty rainbows through the thick of clouds
And countless hearts closed and longing
Give thanks
Make offerings of blossoms
Honey
Glittering stones
To honor the angels
Nymph like
Bliss like
As they paint the dreams and plant the seeds
Unfolding our world with the chimes of their laughter
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Clarification
Perhaps I have not been clear
Maybe in my jaded days and bitter nights I have not wished on enough stars
Begged with enough fervor
Or cried enough tears for all that I want and don't yet have
Maybe the universe did not understand
That when I shunned the conventions of romance
I did not mean to shun romance
That in forsaking picket fenced in compromises
I had no intention of neglecting my concepts of starlit picnic perfection
Though I may be crushing the cliches of wannabe bride fantasies and silly preconceived notions
My castle does need a King that even this Queen can admire
And so this soul blistering search
For my one and very only partner in time
With whom to traverse the turf of this life
Committing senseless acts of beauty and joyfully bathing in each day
Maybe in my jaded days and bitter nights I have not wished on enough stars
Begged with enough fervor
Or cried enough tears for all that I want and don't yet have
Maybe the universe did not understand
That when I shunned the conventions of romance
I did not mean to shun romance
That in forsaking picket fenced in compromises
I had no intention of neglecting my concepts of starlit picnic perfection
Though I may be crushing the cliches of wannabe bride fantasies and silly preconceived notions
My castle does need a King that even this Queen can admire
And so this soul blistering search
For my one and very only partner in time
With whom to traverse the turf of this life
Committing senseless acts of beauty and joyfully bathing in each day
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Afterglow
The thunder has rolled through
Has passed
Has left the thick mist of quenched concrete hanging in the air
With the songs of a few literal early birds
(3 a.m. but they're determined)
The streetlights are pouring down
Like paintbrush sunrays
Onto this perfect and deserted street
My skin is enlivened and the moon is riding the highest wave in the late night sky
A golden honey pot cutout bursting at the brim
Showboating and preening
All for me
Has passed
Has left the thick mist of quenched concrete hanging in the air
With the songs of a few literal early birds
(3 a.m. but they're determined)
The streetlights are pouring down
Like paintbrush sunrays
Onto this perfect and deserted street
My skin is enlivened and the moon is riding the highest wave in the late night sky
A golden honey pot cutout bursting at the brim
Showboating and preening
All for me
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Dearest #2
Dearest,
maybe I am foolish to believe that gone does not mean too far, and goodbyes do not mean forgotten. And maybe I am naive to hope that when you are the you that you want hope and deserve to be, you will still want to look at me the way I know you can.
You closed the door tonight, eye to eye and all, but I cannot believe it was meant to be such a short story dream sequence. That would be its own tragedy, and one less poetic than most. And though I hope the fates or flukes will bring us more sunny days, I cannot find faith.
Truly,
Me.
maybe I am foolish to believe that gone does not mean too far, and goodbyes do not mean forgotten. And maybe I am naive to hope that when you are the you that you want hope and deserve to be, you will still want to look at me the way I know you can.
You closed the door tonight, eye to eye and all, but I cannot believe it was meant to be such a short story dream sequence. That would be its own tragedy, and one less poetic than most. And though I hope the fates or flukes will bring us more sunny days, I cannot find faith.
Truly,
Me.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Storm
The rain is wailing down
Open unabashed sobs onto the summer lovers
Tucked away in their night boxes and collective realities
Onto the sad hearts
Broken and alone
Weighed down by their private corpses
And tonight
Through the clouds
And the thicker tint of my own sorrow
I know I do not watch alone
Open unabashed sobs onto the summer lovers
Tucked away in their night boxes and collective realities
Onto the sad hearts
Broken and alone
Weighed down by their private corpses
And tonight
Through the clouds
And the thicker tint of my own sorrow
I know I do not watch alone
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Patchouli & Leather
She smelled of patchouli and leather when the whim of lust hit me
But she was gone by the time I turned around
I’ve been searching for a boy whose soul smoked endless cigarettes in jazz bars
And greeted the sun at sidewalk cafes
And I found a man who wrote poetry with his heart across exploding sunset horizons
But didn’t write any of it down
And now he whispers music to me on the water at sunrise
But we never set foot in that poetic bar
Or that tortured coffeehouse
And something on the air tells me they closed their doors years ago
And all that remain are the anonymous boarded windows
Plastered with new distractions
And a hint of patchouli floating in on the tip of evening
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
Dearest #1
Dearest,
potential is so painful, and what-ifs can't help but cut to the core.
You have left enough behind amid your dust and sleepy memories for me to build a muse on; far more useful than idols, far warmer than ideals. It is all, I suppose, that I really needed, even if I do still ache for more.
Dearest, if you do not wish to be near enough to hear how eternal your eyes or how perfect your mouth, I will say it, shout it, whisper it to tempted romantics, in the hopes that someone will believe me that you were more than just a passing dream.
Truly,
Me.
potential is so painful, and what-ifs can't help but cut to the core.
You have left enough behind amid your dust and sleepy memories for me to build a muse on; far more useful than idols, far warmer than ideals. It is all, I suppose, that I really needed, even if I do still ache for more.
Dearest, if you do not wish to be near enough to hear how eternal your eyes or how perfect your mouth, I will say it, shout it, whisper it to tempted romantics, in the hopes that someone will believe me that you were more than just a passing dream.
Truly,
Me.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
MY SONG
This is my jam
Minus the backbeat
Poetess to the core
Though lyrics escape me
Still if music is the sound a soul makes
This is mine
My years measured in pages and intermittent rhymes
So what if you can't crank it up
Dance to it or romance to it?
You can absorb this
And dream on this
Like an ethereal foundation on which to place your ponderings
Indulge your fantasies
Plan new yearnings
So I give you this:
Frail paper with feeble language
Because you can't see through my jaded idealistic eyes
Only into their tainted depths
And I construct these lines
To touch your mind
Because without a detailed diagram
You will not recognize who I truly am
That even when down
I am far from out
And that if you see my heart on my sleeve
It's only because that's where I want it to be
For all that it's worth and the sick risk it is
The falls may be brutal
But the trip itself is pure bliss
'Cuz without all of that
There could be no this
And somewhere in the hyperbole of my poetry
There is the story of every you and me
Cut dried and simplified
Arranged center stage on display for the world to see
There is universality
In the crash scene of every loving tragedy
And I may be covered in the ashes of this untimely combustion
But at least I know how to burn
Which you seem to perceive
As some immature catastrophe
Some sloppy tribute to my leftover needs
But my creation stems from emotion and observation
And the sticky subject of eternal self examination
Propelled as it is by my constant regeneration
And if you too had a dream to acheive
That was facilitated by the humble pie trinity of passion love and absolute transparency
You could share some of my journey
And your words of wisdom with me
But seeing as how the things you prioritize
Are based on illusion distraction and the need to accessorize
I have to step back from your constructive attack
And take a quick count of my to do list
My who's who list
The places I need to see
The person I have yet to be
In all my pending comfort joy and glory
And though I may dare to let you in to share
At my core I will never stray from the real me
And though it may be smarter and safer
To put an end to this caper
Turn off the tunes
Lock down my dreams
Burn up this paper
I need to go on feeling each and every rough curve as I grow with the flow
'Cuz without pop lock breaking inside
I could never know what I know
Minus the backbeat
Poetess to the core
Though lyrics escape me
Still if music is the sound a soul makes
This is mine
My years measured in pages and intermittent rhymes
So what if you can't crank it up
Dance to it or romance to it?
You can absorb this
And dream on this
Like an ethereal foundation on which to place your ponderings
Indulge your fantasies
Plan new yearnings
So I give you this:
Frail paper with feeble language
Because you can't see through my jaded idealistic eyes
Only into their tainted depths
And I construct these lines
To touch your mind
Because without a detailed diagram
You will not recognize who I truly am
That even when down
I am far from out
And that if you see my heart on my sleeve
It's only because that's where I want it to be
For all that it's worth and the sick risk it is
The falls may be brutal
But the trip itself is pure bliss
'Cuz without all of that
There could be no this
And somewhere in the hyperbole of my poetry
There is the story of every you and me
Cut dried and simplified
Arranged center stage on display for the world to see
There is universality
In the crash scene of every loving tragedy
And I may be covered in the ashes of this untimely combustion
But at least I know how to burn
Which you seem to perceive
As some immature catastrophe
Some sloppy tribute to my leftover needs
But my creation stems from emotion and observation
And the sticky subject of eternal self examination
Propelled as it is by my constant regeneration
And if you too had a dream to acheive
That was facilitated by the humble pie trinity of passion love and absolute transparency
You could share some of my journey
And your words of wisdom with me
But seeing as how the things you prioritize
Are based on illusion distraction and the need to accessorize
I have to step back from your constructive attack
And take a quick count of my to do list
My who's who list
The places I need to see
The person I have yet to be
In all my pending comfort joy and glory
And though I may dare to let you in to share
At my core I will never stray from the real me
And though it may be smarter and safer
To put an end to this caper
Turn off the tunes
Lock down my dreams
Burn up this paper
I need to go on feeling each and every rough curve as I grow with the flow
'Cuz without pop lock breaking inside
I could never know what I know
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
Promises, Promises
I promise
Not to believe in anyone's fresh promises
Bright eyed and optimistic
Well intentioned or otherwise
I promise
Not to be swept up
By fantasies
Or dreams
By beguiling gentlemen or the ghosts of what I am looking for
(And I promise not to do the sweeping)
And inside I feel like my
Heart is the hope
Trapped under mythical lock and key
But I promise
That it will be okay
Not to believe in anyone's fresh promises
Bright eyed and optimistic
Well intentioned or otherwise
I promise
Not to be swept up
By fantasies
Or dreams
By beguiling gentlemen or the ghosts of what I am looking for
(And I promise not to do the sweeping)
And inside I feel like my
Heart is the hope
Trapped under mythical lock and key
But I promise
That it will be okay
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Unsaid
What I am trying to say
Is that fresh starts are hard to have faith in
After so many rock bottom endings
And that princes only come to princesses
And I do not feel like one
I want to say
That I could not have written
This story
Thus far
Better myself
I want to tell you
That I believe in magic
And this is proof
And that muses sure do turn up
In the strangest of places
(May 31-06)
Is that fresh starts are hard to have faith in
After so many rock bottom endings
And that princes only come to princesses
And I do not feel like one
I want to say
That I could not have written
This story
Thus far
Better myself
I want to tell you
That I believe in magic
And this is proof
And that muses sure do turn up
In the strangest of places
(May 31-06)
Monday, June 05, 2006
Cynical Memories
If this really is
The rerun it looks like
Remember
Not to bother again
My energy is of better use anywhere else
Remember
That if talk is cheap
And actions fleeting
The only thing of any worth is the paper I am writing on
Remember
That dreams are best left to the sleeping
And fairy tales to children
(June 4-06)
The rerun it looks like
Remember
Not to bother again
My energy is of better use anywhere else
Remember
That if talk is cheap
And actions fleeting
The only thing of any worth is the paper I am writing on
Remember
That dreams are best left to the sleeping
And fairy tales to children
(June 4-06)
Friday, June 02, 2006
Thursday, June 01, 2006
En Route
I am tired of the cheap carbon cop outs
As to why my life is not the perfect peach
That I have tried to cobble it into
The road less traveled
Is so for good reason
More internal than admirable
With more dips en route than perfect vistas on tap
A tired journey of spilled wine
Burned time
And more tears than framed accolades
But every destination I have ever dared to daydream
Is somewhere along this long wandering trail
And whatever it is
That was always meant to be mine
Is certainly at its end
As to why my life is not the perfect peach
That I have tried to cobble it into
The road less traveled
Is so for good reason
More internal than admirable
With more dips en route than perfect vistas on tap
A tired journey of spilled wine
Burned time
And more tears than framed accolades
But every destination I have ever dared to daydream
Is somewhere along this long wandering trail
And whatever it is
That was always meant to be mine
Is certainly at its end
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Sunday
So many false idols
Only one you
With every kiss you claim me
With every touch
Something
Soulful
Passes
Between us
And silence does not feel stagnant
Or like panic
But rather
The warmth
Before dreams come
And they made Sundays holy
Because they foresaw ours
Jellybean sugar sunshine
Pouring onto our smiling skin
The colours are all chemical afterglow
And I am blessed
By today
With you
Every detail
Even the small perfect bee
That freeze framed before our eyes
So that we may admire
And it may too
Eager to see the fresh
And mystic
Lovers in its midst
The drums beating
For these two fallen stars
Only one you
With every kiss you claim me
With every touch
Something
Soulful
Passes
Between us
And silence does not feel stagnant
Or like panic
But rather
The warmth
Before dreams come
And they made Sundays holy
Because they foresaw ours
Jellybean sugar sunshine
Pouring onto our smiling skin
The colours are all chemical afterglow
And I am blessed
By today
With you
Every detail
Even the small perfect bee
That freeze framed before our eyes
So that we may admire
And it may too
Eager to see the fresh
And mystic
Lovers in its midst
The drums beating
For these two fallen stars
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Minor Confessions
Overpriced coffee with extravagant names really is better.
I like eating with my hands.
I feel like the fat girl.
Sex is an intimacy, not an accessory.
I pick scabs and pop zits.
I watch reality TV.
My ankles are calloused from too many crosslegged days on concrete.
I love the smell of books.
I have no capacity for moderation.
If I were a guy, I'd eat everything all the time and never worry.
Chocolate is the nectar of the gods.
I'm a romantic at heart.
I hate being a romantic at heart.
Fireworks make me cry happy tears.
I like eating with my hands.
I feel like the fat girl.
Sex is an intimacy, not an accessory.
I pick scabs and pop zits.
I watch reality TV.
My ankles are calloused from too many crosslegged days on concrete.
I love the smell of books.
I have no capacity for moderation.
If I were a guy, I'd eat everything all the time and never worry.
Chocolate is the nectar of the gods.
I'm a romantic at heart.
I hate being a romantic at heart.
Fireworks make me cry happy tears.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Breakthrough
It's been raining for days
But finally the world has washed that last bitter season
Out of her proverbial hair
And the fresh greens and smiling flowers
Are waving triumphantly through the blooming night
And a perfect spring sunset has slashed through the grey clouds
And it's all got my expectations racing
Short term future daydreams
Falling into place
Along with the blossom petals that pave my way
Into the beautiful unknown
But finally the world has washed that last bitter season
Out of her proverbial hair
And the fresh greens and smiling flowers
Are waving triumphantly through the blooming night
And a perfect spring sunset has slashed through the grey clouds
And it's all got my expectations racing
Short term future daydreams
Falling into place
Along with the blossom petals that pave my way
Into the beautiful unknown
Monday, May 22, 2006
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Moment
He stood
In the rain
To see me better
And when I said
He'd come a long way
For nothing much
He made me know
That I was more than that
And asked if there was anything that I needed
Anything more he could do
Just to make me smile
It seems
Which seems to be a touch
Of something lovely
In the rain
To see me better
And when I said
He'd come a long way
For nothing much
He made me know
That I was more than that
And asked if there was anything that I needed
Anything more he could do
Just to make me smile
It seems
Which seems to be a touch
Of something lovely
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Wish List
It's funny how stories go
How plots unfold and noses grow
And how some spines are wont
To melt when the kitchen gets too hot
But I
Have stopped wasting my precious salt
On feeble dreams not worth their own
This time I'm fixin' to build out of stronger stuff
I have a plan
I'm just short on material
Capable of building something bigger
Than whitewashed fenced in mindsets and strip mall escapades
I am not willing to be
The ball
Or the chain
Around some unwilling eye rolling ankle
I am looking for paired pedestals
Not some cardboard cutout to bring home
To plastic dinners
I am on the prowl for something so real
That it will hold up
Under the beauty of blessed skies
Or the foul exhaust of concrete night
I want something
That in the grand finale
Of our happily ever after
Will cradle us
And feed our dreams
How plots unfold and noses grow
And how some spines are wont
To melt when the kitchen gets too hot
But I
Have stopped wasting my precious salt
On feeble dreams not worth their own
This time I'm fixin' to build out of stronger stuff
I have a plan
I'm just short on material
Capable of building something bigger
Than whitewashed fenced in mindsets and strip mall escapades
I am not willing to be
The ball
Or the chain
Around some unwilling eye rolling ankle
I am looking for paired pedestals
Not some cardboard cutout to bring home
To plastic dinners
I am on the prowl for something so real
That it will hold up
Under the beauty of blessed skies
Or the foul exhaust of concrete night
I want something
That in the grand finale
Of our happily ever after
Will cradle us
And feed our dreams
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Joy
I love it when the goddess paints
Part of a bush yellow
So it looks as though
The sun is shining on it always
Summer '05
Part of a bush yellow
So it looks as though
The sun is shining on it always
Summer '05
Monday, May 15, 2006
Another New Year
I want New Year's revelations
Not resolutions
Promises melted by morning
Leftovers cold and unwanted
(The food feels that way too)
Winter '05
Not resolutions
Promises melted by morning
Leftovers cold and unwanted
(The food feels that way too)
Winter '05
Friday, May 12, 2006
If I could have had it every day
I wouldn't have wanted it anyway
This wasn't on my wish list or my maybe-someday scrapbook of the memories I plan
It was on a silver platter
Before I was even hungry
Not that it matters
From here
Can't blame the mouse for the cat game it plays
But you keep building up just to tear down
Into the process and not the result
And I will not be demolished
(Winter '05)
I wouldn't have wanted it anyway
This wasn't on my wish list or my maybe-someday scrapbook of the memories I plan
It was on a silver platter
Before I was even hungry
Not that it matters
From here
Can't blame the mouse for the cat game it plays
But you keep building up just to tear down
Into the process and not the result
And I will not be demolished
(Winter '05)
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Hello, It's Me Again...
I'm walking alone
And I am strong
And wholly me
Without the you
Head held high and the world is my
All you can eat oyster bar
And all the Prince Charmings are waiting patiently for my call
Eating bon bons by the phone
Wondering if I miss them
Like they miss me
And you
Are waiting too
But with bold assumptions
Thinking you are in my bloodstream
And caught in my throat
Inescapable
Unattainable
Your humility is fading like your memory
Pale blue eyes blending into endless sky
(Winter '05)
And I am strong
And wholly me
Without the you
Head held high and the world is my
All you can eat oyster bar
And all the Prince Charmings are waiting patiently for my call
Eating bon bons by the phone
Wondering if I miss them
Like they miss me
And you
Are waiting too
But with bold assumptions
Thinking you are in my bloodstream
And caught in my throat
Inescapable
Unattainable
Your humility is fading like your memory
Pale blue eyes blending into endless sky
(Winter '05)
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Private #3
I'm drinking vermouth
Too straight too fast
But it's not chasing my demons away.
I'm still feeling lonely desperation,
And the perils and paralysis of a non-exsistent relationship
That is real enough
To touch
Sometimes.
And I know a couple of people who think this pain makes me lame
And another couple of hearts that ache along with mine
But is it really so hard
To define and then find the human treaures of our varied destinies?
I'm too rough and tumble for a pretty prince
And unsure how I feel about the expensive figureheads of monarchy
And I do not want a blind brute of a defender
As I am wrong too
Often.
I want someone to care where I was,
Where I am.
On occasion
Worry.
But none of these too much.
Lust after me like a stranger would
With hopeful hungry glances;
Lust after me like a new lover
Eager, passionate, and shy to explore.
Want me
Think of me
Because I want to love
And lust
And want
And give it all
And build an empire
For others to base their dreams on.
Is that really so hard?
Too straight too fast
But it's not chasing my demons away.
I'm still feeling lonely desperation,
And the perils and paralysis of a non-exsistent relationship
That is real enough
To touch
Sometimes.
And I know a couple of people who think this pain makes me lame
And another couple of hearts that ache along with mine
But is it really so hard
To define and then find the human treaures of our varied destinies?
I'm too rough and tumble for a pretty prince
And unsure how I feel about the expensive figureheads of monarchy
And I do not want a blind brute of a defender
As I am wrong too
Often.
I want someone to care where I was,
Where I am.
On occasion
Worry.
But none of these too much.
Lust after me like a stranger would
With hopeful hungry glances;
Lust after me like a new lover
Eager, passionate, and shy to explore.
Want me
Think of me
Because I want to love
And lust
And want
And give it all
And build an empire
For others to base their dreams on.
Is that really so hard?
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Naturally
I am pouring myself onto you
Like fragrant rain on a scorching day
And just like nature
We are steam on contact.
I am trying to inhale you,
Absorb you,
Tattoo you with this moment so that you cannot forget me when I'm gone.
I'm peeling back your layers
And you have me in your grips
And if the world
Were to collapse
Right now
I would merely sigh against you and savor the seconds we have left.
And even if we were showered with fire
While the sky fell and the earth dissolved
I would still
Lick the sweat
From your chest
And relish the feeling
Of you inside me
And my soul in my throat.
(Summer '05)
Like fragrant rain on a scorching day
And just like nature
We are steam on contact.
I am trying to inhale you,
Absorb you,
Tattoo you with this moment so that you cannot forget me when I'm gone.
I'm peeling back your layers
And you have me in your grips
And if the world
Were to collapse
Right now
I would merely sigh against you and savor the seconds we have left.
And even if we were showered with fire
While the sky fell and the earth dissolved
I would still
Lick the sweat
From your chest
And relish the feeling
Of you inside me
And my soul in my throat.
(Summer '05)
Private #2
Okay.
So delving deep
Into my fears and doubts
Isolation and panic
Will it always be this way?
People keep fading out of my life
And I'm always somehow convinced there is more
New and improved greener grass.
The sandman owes me sweet dreams and happy endings
But that's just silly fairy tale righteousness.
I sucked in my aura today to nourish myself.
Can't afford to glow when I'm empty.
Not ready to burn or fade
And certainly not to walk alone.
We can only reach out in the limited time opportunity of this life
Though we will be our selves forever.
(Summer '05)
So delving deep
Into my fears and doubts
Isolation and panic
Will it always be this way?
People keep fading out of my life
And I'm always somehow convinced there is more
New and improved greener grass.
The sandman owes me sweet dreams and happy endings
But that's just silly fairy tale righteousness.
I sucked in my aura today to nourish myself.
Can't afford to glow when I'm empty.
Not ready to burn or fade
And certainly not to walk alone.
We can only reach out in the limited time opportunity of this life
Though we will be our selves forever.
(Summer '05)
Romancing Summer
Summer's unfolding her lush picnic basket
From its place packed away amid the heady scents of barbecue memories and first loves
Where it has been stashed, sealed and secured
Unseen since the last sunburnt sweaty dream.
Even as I sink into a steamy, sultry, waking jazz fantasy,
Even as the sidewalk bakes and breathes on me,
I know that it's the one who holds me as the fireworks rip the sky into rainbows
That will help me build my myths and history
As the seasons slide by.
And I
Would carve our names into a heart on a tree
If I could ask the tree's permission
And yours.
Instead I will thread our story
Through the blades of grass
A weaving of our paths
A tell tale tapestry of our shared steps
And we
Will fall in
Among the mystic dreamers and the urban legend of everlasting love
And perhaps never even notice
The icons we've become.
(Summer '05)
From its place packed away amid the heady scents of barbecue memories and first loves
Where it has been stashed, sealed and secured
Unseen since the last sunburnt sweaty dream.
Even as I sink into a steamy, sultry, waking jazz fantasy,
Even as the sidewalk bakes and breathes on me,
I know that it's the one who holds me as the fireworks rip the sky into rainbows
That will help me build my myths and history
As the seasons slide by.
And I
Would carve our names into a heart on a tree
If I could ask the tree's permission
And yours.
Instead I will thread our story
Through the blades of grass
A weaving of our paths
A tell tale tapestry of our shared steps
And we
Will fall in
Among the mystic dreamers and the urban legend of everlasting love
And perhaps never even notice
The icons we've become.
(Summer '05)
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Private #1
If I were to write
As though no one would ever read these scratches in the sand,
If I am to envision my parched pages swirling around abandoned streets
Once everyone who could've digested them
Has long since disintegrated,
What new truths would burst unafraid from my pen?
I've had a rough morning and I want to spill my guts to you.
Not sure you care to listen.
I want to cry my tired eyes out on your warm, tan shoulder.
I want your arms to brace me against the world.
I can't see the future from here
But right now you make me feel alive,
And somewhere in the past you were mine.
Of course
I do hate being wrong;
Failure is exhausting,
But hope can kill you.
And even though you wouldn't want to read this,
You'd like it if you did.
This is misery
Destiny
Exploding poetry
A simple change of scenery.
I want you to know me,
And to smile with me
About how laughter is sometimes magic
(Especially at the wrong times).
And to burn with me
To dream with me
And believe with me
That love can be a wild eyed soul stirring journey into eternity.
(May 26-05)
As though no one would ever read these scratches in the sand,
If I am to envision my parched pages swirling around abandoned streets
Once everyone who could've digested them
Has long since disintegrated,
What new truths would burst unafraid from my pen?
I've had a rough morning and I want to spill my guts to you.
Not sure you care to listen.
I want to cry my tired eyes out on your warm, tan shoulder.
I want your arms to brace me against the world.
I can't see the future from here
But right now you make me feel alive,
And somewhere in the past you were mine.
Of course
I do hate being wrong;
Failure is exhausting,
But hope can kill you.
And even though you wouldn't want to read this,
You'd like it if you did.
This is misery
Destiny
Exploding poetry
A simple change of scenery.
I want you to know me,
And to smile with me
About how laughter is sometimes magic
(Especially at the wrong times).
And to burn with me
To dream with me
And believe with me
That love can be a wild eyed soul stirring journey into eternity.
(May 26-05)
Friday, April 28, 2006
Lying
You're lying
On your perfect couch
In the yellow shadows
But mostly to yourself
And certainly to me
If you think you
Can pick up
Walk out
Amid renovations of our broken dream
If you think this
Try at redesign
Wasn't your brainstorm baby
And you can just leave
Friendly hug
Clean hands
Just because the heat
Got too hot
And you got caught
Warming yourself by this blazing bonfire
Starry love sick look in your eyes
Then you are fooling
Yourself
And I
Am only an accessory
Accomplice to your illusion
On your perfect couch
In the yellow shadows
But mostly to yourself
And certainly to me
If you think you
Can pick up
Walk out
Amid renovations of our broken dream
If you think this
Try at redesign
Wasn't your brainstorm baby
And you can just leave
Friendly hug
Clean hands
Just because the heat
Got too hot
And you got caught
Warming yourself by this blazing bonfire
Starry love sick look in your eyes
Then you are fooling
Yourself
And I
Am only an accessory
Accomplice to your illusion
Monday, April 24, 2006
Rollin' On
He's trying to fish me out of my supernatural head winds
With his second hand line
Out of my lofty daydreams
And into his rusted out ride
But I know I'm a goddess inside
So I gotta pass
On my chance
With this cat
And flash to some places
With some faces
I long to see
And I'm hoping they're smiling and thinking of me
'Cuz I got a call to meet Destiny
Could've been a prank though
I've heard the voice before
But even so
I keep agreeing
And appearing
At these odd times and states of mind
In expectation of some tiny piece of perfection
Broken off
Lost
Looking to be found amid the brightly coloured
Thick oil canvases
And neutral couches
With latte lovers sinking into sangria sunsets
And I'm hoping
Groping
Trying to stop choking
On the preconceived notions and fears I've amassed through the years
But I'm as petrified
Inside
Of every step forward
As I am
Of the burn
Of eternal
Stagnation
So all I can do is catch an updraft
Sweet dreamy breeze with no burdens to share
And I'll go with the gust
Oh I'll let the times take me
And make me
And recreate me
Into the me
I want to see
Reflected in the eyes
Of those smiling faces
In all the places
I long to be
With his second hand line
Out of my lofty daydreams
And into his rusted out ride
But I know I'm a goddess inside
So I gotta pass
On my chance
With this cat
And flash to some places
With some faces
I long to see
And I'm hoping they're smiling and thinking of me
'Cuz I got a call to meet Destiny
Could've been a prank though
I've heard the voice before
But even so
I keep agreeing
And appearing
At these odd times and states of mind
In expectation of some tiny piece of perfection
Broken off
Lost
Looking to be found amid the brightly coloured
Thick oil canvases
And neutral couches
With latte lovers sinking into sangria sunsets
And I'm hoping
Groping
Trying to stop choking
On the preconceived notions and fears I've amassed through the years
But I'm as petrified
Inside
Of every step forward
As I am
Of the burn
Of eternal
Stagnation
So all I can do is catch an updraft
Sweet dreamy breeze with no burdens to share
And I'll go with the gust
Oh I'll let the times take me
And make me
And recreate me
Into the me
I want to see
Reflected in the eyes
Of those smiling faces
In all the places
I long to be
Friday, April 21, 2006
View
I want to find someone
Who loves life
As much as I want to
And who loves me
Too.
I want to share my iridescent mornings
With someone who wants to lay here
And bask;
Maybe build a fort
That is also a shrine
Alter and fires
Perfumed smoke
We are all idols.
For tonight,
Home is where my body is
Because my heart is a little bit of everywhere
And my head is less reliable.
The world may be trying to spin me
Like an ad campaign gone global,
But I'm going with the flows
Of bliss and bullshit
Revelations and reality hangovers.
And like the countless after me
And so many before,
There is nothing new under the blue expanse,
Just the humble view from here.
Who loves life
As much as I want to
And who loves me
Too.
I want to share my iridescent mornings
With someone who wants to lay here
And bask;
Maybe build a fort
That is also a shrine
Alter and fires
Perfumed smoke
We are all idols.
For tonight,
Home is where my body is
Because my heart is a little bit of everywhere
And my head is less reliable.
The world may be trying to spin me
Like an ad campaign gone global,
But I'm going with the flows
Of bliss and bullshit
Revelations and reality hangovers.
And like the countless after me
And so many before,
There is nothing new under the blue expanse,
Just the humble view from here.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Ma Belle Ville
The streets are hungover
The parties have passed out and away
And once again no one has stayed
To clean up the spilled beer and mess that was made
The city is struggling to morning
Streetsweepers and seagulls grumpy but on time
And it's like coming down without a parachute
This urban vista quiet empty and blue
Like the lights going on after a dance
Ballroom just a gym again
Eternal neon thrills now just a string of closed bars
The disillusionment of an empty stage
Part of our do it yourself charade
In castles that are only buildings
And skyscrapers that will never be mountains
The parties have passed out and away
And once again no one has stayed
To clean up the spilled beer and mess that was made
The city is struggling to morning
Streetsweepers and seagulls grumpy but on time
And it's like coming down without a parachute
This urban vista quiet empty and blue
Like the lights going on after a dance
Ballroom just a gym again
Eternal neon thrills now just a string of closed bars
The disillusionment of an empty stage
Part of our do it yourself charade
In castles that are only buildings
And skyscrapers that will never be mountains
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Simple Request
I don't care what you call it.
Roses are eternally sweet
And spring was perfection long before we knew how to say so.
I don't care what you name it,
How you tag this, classify this,
Paint the moment
Of the feeling
That we are not alone.
We have never been apart.
We absorb,
We glow,
We are in a constant state of our own photosynthesis.
We are here
And beyond all of this,
More gigantic and pure than our best nightopias.
Do not name this
Or stumble as I have to confine it to petty, stagnant, mortal definition,
But rather
Bask
Revel
Celebrate
Experience awe
Give thanks
And pass it on.
Roses are eternally sweet
And spring was perfection long before we knew how to say so.
I don't care what you name it,
How you tag this, classify this,
Paint the moment
Of the feeling
That we are not alone.
We have never been apart.
We absorb,
We glow,
We are in a constant state of our own photosynthesis.
We are here
And beyond all of this,
More gigantic and pure than our best nightopias.
Do not name this
Or stumble as I have to confine it to petty, stagnant, mortal definition,
But rather
Bask
Revel
Celebrate
Experience awe
Give thanks
And pass it on.
Monday, April 17, 2006
More 4 U
You;
My candy sweet dream drifter,
Inspire me.
The span of your wings and the speed of your flight
Move my soul
(And my dream self dreams itself a little bigger,
My sites aim themselves higher
When you lift my chin).
Your smile,
Sweet elixir that it is,
Kindles the joy of carefree youth in the hearts of strangers
And your eyes,
Simultaneously poignant,
Careless and cold
Gets the masses to consider
And reconsider
Reinterperate and reinvent
All that they've ever known to be true
Because if you are real,
Then they will have to begin to believe.
My candy sweet dream drifter,
Inspire me.
The span of your wings and the speed of your flight
Move my soul
(And my dream self dreams itself a little bigger,
My sites aim themselves higher
When you lift my chin).
Your smile,
Sweet elixir that it is,
Kindles the joy of carefree youth in the hearts of strangers
And your eyes,
Simultaneously poignant,
Careless and cold
Gets the masses to consider
And reconsider
Reinterperate and reinvent
All that they've ever known to be true
Because if you are real,
Then they will have to begin to believe.
Lucky Stars
If I
Were to count my lucky stars
I could spend well into eternity
On the constellation that is you
With your overcast eyes of blue
Glimmering through the clouds as if you were the ocean
Beneath dancing moonlight
Were to count my lucky stars
I could spend well into eternity
On the constellation that is you
With your overcast eyes of blue
Glimmering through the clouds as if you were the ocean
Beneath dancing moonlight
Friday, March 31, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Life Line
I have been blessed
Goddess given the key to my destiny
No map to my path though
No X to mark my spot
In a world where we are taught
To never pass a buck we can keep for ourselves
To chase logos and coins and put our souls on a shelf
But I have been placed here
Made my way to this domain
To maintain
My sanity
Keep joy flowing in my brain
Because I spend my daylight hours chained to someone else's purse strings
A payoff that demeans my dreams
And leaves me wishing my precious moments away
Trapped in the computer buzz silence even though I have so much to say
I'm old world in my simplicity
In that I demand to be
Only who I am and want to be
And I won't give that up in the name of falsified maturity
Or misconstrued responsibility
In my own mind
I'm living out something sublime
And I know that to redeem my life
This birth
This breath
I must put pen to paper
Document the course of my ever winding caper
Share the universe
Through these eyes
This life
This cycle
No time to trifle
With new and improved packaging
It's time to let your heart sing
Satisfaction is only garunteed
If you know what feeds your soul
Despite the high gloss candy pink money train
And 24/7 ad campaign
LIFE STARTS NOW
Operators are standing by
Goddess given the key to my destiny
No map to my path though
No X to mark my spot
In a world where we are taught
To never pass a buck we can keep for ourselves
To chase logos and coins and put our souls on a shelf
But I have been placed here
Made my way to this domain
To maintain
My sanity
Keep joy flowing in my brain
Because I spend my daylight hours chained to someone else's purse strings
A payoff that demeans my dreams
And leaves me wishing my precious moments away
Trapped in the computer buzz silence even though I have so much to say
I'm old world in my simplicity
In that I demand to be
Only who I am and want to be
And I won't give that up in the name of falsified maturity
Or misconstrued responsibility
In my own mind
I'm living out something sublime
And I know that to redeem my life
This birth
This breath
I must put pen to paper
Document the course of my ever winding caper
Share the universe
Through these eyes
This life
This cycle
No time to trifle
With new and improved packaging
It's time to let your heart sing
Satisfaction is only garunteed
If you know what feeds your soul
Despite the high gloss candy pink money train
And 24/7 ad campaign
LIFE STARTS NOW
Operators are standing by
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Without
Without over personalizing
The highly intimate
I can say
That at times
Even I am caught blind sided
By the hoaxes hindrances and helpers
Trying to pass me in this fog
And though the marshmallow blanket view from here
Reminds me of something distant
A memory ever so persistent
This is a new season
Recreation
Regeneration
Take a picture
Of this future postcard memory
Without over sentimentalizing
My carnal knowledge
I know that some people kiss
Like they mean it
And some people
Get lost with you in a kiss
And they're the ones who really mean it
So few and far between
Like a sweet and rare recurring dream
And all I can do
Is reconstruct the scene
To lure in new ghosts
Without obliviously stating the obvious
The lessons we need most
Are the ones we only comprehend
After they're done and said
And we never saw them coming
Or knew there was the need
But it got us to the here in the now
To this
Yet-another-rest-stop
Reference point in our pending memories
The highly intimate
I can say
That at times
Even I am caught blind sided
By the hoaxes hindrances and helpers
Trying to pass me in this fog
And though the marshmallow blanket view from here
Reminds me of something distant
A memory ever so persistent
This is a new season
Recreation
Regeneration
Take a picture
Of this future postcard memory
Without over sentimentalizing
My carnal knowledge
I know that some people kiss
Like they mean it
And some people
Get lost with you in a kiss
And they're the ones who really mean it
So few and far between
Like a sweet and rare recurring dream
And all I can do
Is reconstruct the scene
To lure in new ghosts
Without obliviously stating the obvious
The lessons we need most
Are the ones we only comprehend
After they're done and said
And we never saw them coming
Or knew there was the need
But it got us to the here in the now
To this
Yet-another-rest-stop
Reference point in our pending memories
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Riddle Me This
So my best e-bud asked me a really good question:
Why do we have a name for nightmares, but not for really good dreams?
Well dude, that's a damn good question. I think it's because we don't take happy things seriously. Happy stuff is flaky, superficial, and it's assumed that people are happy because they're too stupid to know they ought to be miserable.
(My Bubby always said: Smile. But don't smile too much or people will think you're dumb.)
We interperet things through or language, so let's give good dreams a name. We'll dub them, define them, and one day be able to tell our friends and lovers of the great dreams we had with ease.
I know there are a lot of proverbial flies on the walls of this proverbial room, but I want input! We must name these! Please slip your brilliant and less than brilliant ideas into the suggestion box marked "comment" and let's get this cerebral party started, shall we?
My suggestions, for what they are worth, include "nightopias" and "nightblisses", but you can do better, right? ;)
Why do we have a name for nightmares, but not for really good dreams?
Well dude, that's a damn good question. I think it's because we don't take happy things seriously. Happy stuff is flaky, superficial, and it's assumed that people are happy because they're too stupid to know they ought to be miserable.
(My Bubby always said: Smile. But don't smile too much or people will think you're dumb.)
We interperet things through or language, so let's give good dreams a name. We'll dub them, define them, and one day be able to tell our friends and lovers of the great dreams we had with ease.
I know there are a lot of proverbial flies on the walls of this proverbial room, but I want input! We must name these! Please slip your brilliant and less than brilliant ideas into the suggestion box marked "comment" and let's get this cerebral party started, shall we?
My suggestions, for what they are worth, include "nightopias" and "nightblisses", but you can do better, right? ;)
Friday, March 10, 2006
Dan's AbFab Photos
Thanks Dan! xoxoxox
Me (as only Princess Dan can do)
Underground Radio God: Reverend Elliot Pure (a.k.a The Pirate)
Me (as only Princess Dan can do)
Underground Radio God: Reverend Elliot Pure (a.k.a The Pirate)
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Rain, rain...
I'm standing outside your window
In the rain
Or maybe that's just me
And maybe there is no ice water running down my hair
And maybe I am not standing in a puddle
And maybe that is not your shadow
Gliding softly
Through the warm, dry, dimly lit
Room of your own
Maybe it is in my damp head that you half look at the window
As though you feel me there
Or near
But you can't see me through the rain
Streetlights playing disco ball across your window pane
And you see nothing
But feel like part of you
Is out
And in
That rain
Or maybe
That's just me
4U
My beautiful princess,
I am sending you love
Hugs
Flowers
Grape flavored candy
And all the wintermint tea in the world
So please smile and know that even if this moment sucks, better ones are on their way
I am sending you love
Hugs
Flowers
Grape flavored candy
And all the wintermint tea in the world
So please smile and know that even if this moment sucks, better ones are on their way
Friday, March 03, 2006
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Freeze Frame
We were here
Before it was frozen.
We were something different then,
Walking this ground under that sky,
One double instead of two separates;
But it's colder now
These days,
In so many ways.
It looks different under ice:
The pigeons more hungry,
The statue more lonely.
Our words hang frosty in the air
As we walk far apart
And then closer again
Like well worn tracks
With slow progress through winter.
Before it was frozen.
We were something different then,
Walking this ground under that sky,
One double instead of two separates;
But it's colder now
These days,
In so many ways.
It looks different under ice:
The pigeons more hungry,
The statue more lonely.
Our words hang frosty in the air
As we walk far apart
And then closer again
Like well worn tracks
With slow progress through winter.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
65 Days Till Tam Tams
You'll notice that I've added some fun links to maximize your viewing pleasure. This page is of course in a state of perpetual evolution as I figure stuff out, which is to say more honestly, thanx to my tech guy PG. Where on the web would I be without you?
I've been receiving a lot of feedback personally on my l'il blog, and I appreciate it immensely. Based on that, I can also say that readership is up, which also rawks, but I want to encourage people to post comments here too. And not just ads for your own page (though if it's honestly related, do it). If there are comments, there can be discussion and community. We can build a little Dawn-ville and grasp at the intangibles and unspeakables the universe has to offer together.
On a separate and damn cold note, real Montreal winter has finally and unfortunately kicked in. I, like so many, am starting to have a hard time keeping my chin up. A stiff upper lip is no fun, especially when it's frozen that way. In my search for cyber sunshine I've been finding a daily dose at this Tam Tams site. It's got a daily countdown to assure you that the good times will roll again, and over 300 pics that can bring summer to you, even from here. People who aren't from Montreal who would like to know where our island keeps its soul, should definitely take a peek and join us in spirit.
Since I've been in such a Hug-The-Mountain mood, I stumbled onto this site which has the history of the mountain and a bunch of neat stuff most Montrealers don't know. It may be a bit nerdy, but I enjoyed thoroughly...
Keep warm: only 65 days left... ;)
I've been receiving a lot of feedback personally on my l'il blog, and I appreciate it immensely. Based on that, I can also say that readership is up, which also rawks, but I want to encourage people to post comments here too. And not just ads for your own page (though if it's honestly related, do it). If there are comments, there can be discussion and community. We can build a little Dawn-ville and grasp at the intangibles and unspeakables the universe has to offer together.
On a separate and damn cold note, real Montreal winter has finally and unfortunately kicked in. I, like so many, am starting to have a hard time keeping my chin up. A stiff upper lip is no fun, especially when it's frozen that way. In my search for cyber sunshine I've been finding a daily dose at this Tam Tams site. It's got a daily countdown to assure you that the good times will roll again, and over 300 pics that can bring summer to you, even from here. People who aren't from Montreal who would like to know where our island keeps its soul, should definitely take a peek and join us in spirit.
Since I've been in such a Hug-The-Mountain mood, I stumbled onto this site which has the history of the mountain and a bunch of neat stuff most Montrealers don't know. It may be a bit nerdy, but I enjoyed thoroughly...
Keep warm: only 65 days left... ;)
In Passing
I am passing the steeple
Attached to the church
Where you walked into a memory
And I fell deeper into you.
We took pictures as the iron and stone
Cast its crosshairs on the bulging moon
And film or no film
For me the image is etched here
Even now as I walk alone
Our moment erased
Our space filled with light.
Attached to the church
Where you walked into a memory
And I fell deeper into you.
We took pictures as the iron and stone
Cast its crosshairs on the bulging moon
And film or no film
For me the image is etched here
Even now as I walk alone
Our moment erased
Our space filled with light.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Walking Home (In Real Time)
Tonight someone told me something I already knew
Which is good because it tells me that I'm right
And that's important because I think he has something to share
With someone
But he may not know what it is.
I'm walking in the street as I write this;
Now standing dead stopped
Between the crosswalks
1:35 a.m.
Not a romantic time but I'm feeling it
And my shadow looks sexy
All essence of hair and billow of skirt
As a fresh summer begins her affair with my soul
As she flirts between the leaves and my thighs.
I am destined to build a shrine to a hundred gods at once
And swear that it's the only true path,
And I am bound to burn false idols where they lay.
Up in the elevator now
And I wonder who is tending
The few fires still burning in scattered windows.
How many of them are waiting for someone
How many are waiting for anyone
And how very long it seems I must wait
Before finding my truths.
(June 3/05 really...)
Which is good because it tells me that I'm right
And that's important because I think he has something to share
With someone
But he may not know what it is.
I'm walking in the street as I write this;
Now standing dead stopped
Between the crosswalks
1:35 a.m.
Not a romantic time but I'm feeling it
And my shadow looks sexy
All essence of hair and billow of skirt
As a fresh summer begins her affair with my soul
As she flirts between the leaves and my thighs.
I am destined to build a shrine to a hundred gods at once
And swear that it's the only true path,
And I am bound to burn false idols where they lay.
Up in the elevator now
And I wonder who is tending
The few fires still burning in scattered windows.
How many of them are waiting for someone
How many are waiting for anyone
And how very long it seems I must wait
Before finding my truths.
(June 3/05 really...)
Premonition
I am afraid
That anything I say
Will only make you run away
Faster
Because I see you leaving
That anything I say
Will only make you run away
Faster
Because I see you leaving
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Pssst...Links of Note
If you're surfing for ways to assuage the February blues, git yer cyber-self over to www.local514.thruhere.net for some tunes you ought to hear and some toasty throwbacks to warm you right down to your cockles. It's a fab new podcast including a short reading by yours truly *blush*. Expect these sound waves to crash your party at least twice a month (sans moi), and definitely check back there this weekend for the release of a Mash-Up special. WTG to my buddy Elliot Pure for finally putting his music collection to good use.
You can also check out Mr. Pure's blog here.
Another gr8 site is rhyme&reason. It's an arts page currently featuring an interesting array of music, and a few postings. This site is in progress, so keep checking, and harrass the webmaster to keep on task. Expect to find art, photos, prose and editorials there in the near future.
Well, thought you may like a few extra ways to spend these last days of hibernation. Happy surfing, and don't forget: we're in this together, so tell a friend.
Dawn @--}-----
You can also check out Mr. Pure's blog here.
Another gr8 site is rhyme&reason. It's an arts page currently featuring an interesting array of music, and a few postings. This site is in progress, so keep checking, and harrass the webmaster to keep on task. Expect to find art, photos, prose and editorials there in the near future.
Well, thought you may like a few extra ways to spend these last days of hibernation. Happy surfing, and don't forget: we're in this together, so tell a friend.
Dawn @--}-----
Lost lunch
I'm thinking
That if this
Food court sushi poisoning feeling
In the pit of my stomach
Is true love
Then I'd better stick to the facts
Of diluted delusions
Gone before breakfast
What-was-his-name by dinner
Romance.
It's best I skirt the fringes
Of martini dreams
And not reconstruct the pieces I lost
Or forgot I had.
I ought to keep up a resistance
A safe distance
Even as I am delving
Into this
Deja voodoo
Daydream
Losing my mind
And my way
Repeatedly
To the unalterable rhythms of being me;
But I find myself crumbling
Always on the same
Warm
Nearly home doorstep
Comforted
But filled
With the foreshadowing of broken hearts.
Still
If there is more
To this whole
To be had
Than the sum of these parts
Jagged and sad
Casting desperate disco rainbows
Across these empty rooms
I will throw
The caution of my casual flirtation with cynicism
Into the mesmerizing flames
Of this sun baked flashback moon dance.
I will risk life
And ever precious whim
To see this
Endorphin induced
Primal instinct dream through
Until we agree
That it is morning.
That if this
Food court sushi poisoning feeling
In the pit of my stomach
Is true love
Then I'd better stick to the facts
Of diluted delusions
Gone before breakfast
What-was-his-name by dinner
Romance.
It's best I skirt the fringes
Of martini dreams
And not reconstruct the pieces I lost
Or forgot I had.
I ought to keep up a resistance
A safe distance
Even as I am delving
Into this
Deja voodoo
Daydream
Losing my mind
And my way
Repeatedly
To the unalterable rhythms of being me;
But I find myself crumbling
Always on the same
Warm
Nearly home doorstep
Comforted
But filled
With the foreshadowing of broken hearts.
Still
If there is more
To this whole
To be had
Than the sum of these parts
Jagged and sad
Casting desperate disco rainbows
Across these empty rooms
I will throw
The caution of my casual flirtation with cynicism
Into the mesmerizing flames
Of this sun baked flashback moon dance.
I will risk life
And ever precious whim
To see this
Endorphin induced
Primal instinct dream through
Until we agree
That it is morning.
Never Enough
I find myself waking up
In these new places
With familiar faces
Unfinished missions
And a pile of new business.
I am carrying my well worn promise to protest
Made for TV memories
And dogs and yards and minivans
Until they are worth it
Unless they are perfect;
Only if the pret-a-porter fantasy
Fits me like a second skin
Will I ever let myself give in.
I vowed to rebel
Eternally
Internally
Against these infernal things
They'd have us believe
Are the be all
And end all
The quintessential
Of it all.
I dared myself
Prepared myself
Swore into my own eyes even though it scared myself
That I would never crumble into complacency
Mediocrity
The simple homogeny
Of the every day.
Even if I have to go it alone
I will not find myself buying the gift wrapped mall dream
Not on sale or with my frequent layaway flyer points.
I have no need to hang pictures
Frozen frames of quickly fading states of mind
Just to hammer the nail
And admire the job.
I will only need to pin these moments
If my miracles
Give me wings and make me hear bells
And I will only name
My Prince
As King
When all the firey hoops have been put out and down
And all the egoists, jesters and illusionists
Have been sent home
No fanfare
And certainly no tears
To write their own happy endings
While I soar into my future.
In these new places
With familiar faces
Unfinished missions
And a pile of new business.
I am carrying my well worn promise to protest
Made for TV memories
And dogs and yards and minivans
Until they are worth it
Unless they are perfect;
Only if the pret-a-porter fantasy
Fits me like a second skin
Will I ever let myself give in.
I vowed to rebel
Eternally
Internally
Against these infernal things
They'd have us believe
Are the be all
And end all
The quintessential
Of it all.
I dared myself
Prepared myself
Swore into my own eyes even though it scared myself
That I would never crumble into complacency
Mediocrity
The simple homogeny
Of the every day.
Even if I have to go it alone
I will not find myself buying the gift wrapped mall dream
Not on sale or with my frequent layaway flyer points.
I have no need to hang pictures
Frozen frames of quickly fading states of mind
Just to hammer the nail
And admire the job.
I will only need to pin these moments
If my miracles
Give me wings and make me hear bells
And I will only name
My Prince
As King
When all the firey hoops have been put out and down
And all the egoists, jesters and illusionists
Have been sent home
No fanfare
And certainly no tears
To write their own happy endings
While I soar into my future.
Ode To A Travelling Friend
Ode to a travelling friend
Leaving again
To chase more as yet unseen horizons
And feel the world through your hair.
My brave, beautiful explorer,
Always the you
I wanted
My self
To be:
Befriender of strangers
Drinker of teas
Intercontinental breaker of hearts.
Sweet seeker that only time can stop,
May life never scrub the paint from your artist fantasies
As you hop across oceans
Like salty puddles along your ever changing
Catch me if you can
Path.
The museums in countless cities
Ancient and revered
Will primp
And preen
And trot out their finest fare
To be devoured by
Your appreciative
Soulful eyes,
And I,
My dear,
My lovely old gypsy soul,
Will put on a kettle
And settle
Into winter
Awaiting your triumphant return
With the world in your pocket
Absorbed
Reinvented
Filtered for viewing
Through the lens of your heart.
And you
Will tell me
Picture book fairy tales
Over cups of brewed souvenirs
In the comfort of home
While you show me your new scars
And laugh.
And I
Will promise
To fly with you
One day
Soon
Instead of merely tagging
My spirit along.
Leaving again
To chase more as yet unseen horizons
And feel the world through your hair.
My brave, beautiful explorer,
Always the you
I wanted
My self
To be:
Befriender of strangers
Drinker of teas
Intercontinental breaker of hearts.
Sweet seeker that only time can stop,
May life never scrub the paint from your artist fantasies
As you hop across oceans
Like salty puddles along your ever changing
Catch me if you can
Path.
The museums in countless cities
Ancient and revered
Will primp
And preen
And trot out their finest fare
To be devoured by
Your appreciative
Soulful eyes,
And I,
My dear,
My lovely old gypsy soul,
Will put on a kettle
And settle
Into winter
Awaiting your triumphant return
With the world in your pocket
Absorbed
Reinvented
Filtered for viewing
Through the lens of your heart.
And you
Will tell me
Picture book fairy tales
Over cups of brewed souvenirs
In the comfort of home
While you show me your new scars
And laugh.
And I
Will promise
To fly with you
One day
Soon
Instead of merely tagging
My spirit along.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Toast
I had a few drinks in your honour last night.
As time spilled on
I forgot if I was wishing you the best of luck,
Or bidding you good riddance,
But it was most certainly you.
Oct. 21-05
As time spilled on
I forgot if I was wishing you the best of luck,
Or bidding you good riddance,
But it was most certainly you.
Oct. 21-05
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