When we talk about the future
We speak in serious tones pierced by lilting laughter
Frequent pauses
In which we stop
To enjoy the view
Speculation and dream weaving are fine arts
Requiring patience and on occasion
Held breath and hushed voices
As we place the flowers
In the garden we will grow
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Upon Finding You Away
If the moments of my life
Are the poems you've been waiting for
I will bundle them up in a bow and
Leave them
Unedited
On your doorstep for your perusal
Don't think of them as a sacrifice but
As a meager donation
To your grandiose cause
Your big picture scene
Larger and liver than its bare bits
And if you find my pieces to be passable
Fit to find themselves on your hallowed shelves
They will be the proud testaments
To my humble blind faith
That you will get this message at all
Are the poems you've been waiting for
I will bundle them up in a bow and
Leave them
Unedited
On your doorstep for your perusal
Don't think of them as a sacrifice but
As a meager donation
To your grandiose cause
Your big picture scene
Larger and liver than its bare bits
And if you find my pieces to be passable
Fit to find themselves on your hallowed shelves
They will be the proud testaments
To my humble blind faith
That you will get this message at all
Posting Problems
Okay....so sorry for the various delays. As I commented, I haven't been able to convert to the NEW Blogger and can't log into my old account, and was/am trapped in limbo. I've gotten in by going to RECOVER PASSWORD and getting in through my email. If you're having this problem, I suggest you do the same. =)
I'm may still be in the aforementioned limbo, but it's post-erific baby!!!
(Thanx for noticing my absence...I feel the love!)
I'm may still be in the aforementioned limbo, but it's post-erific baby!!!
(Thanx for noticing my absence...I feel the love!)
Friday, January 05, 2007
55 Word Stories
1.
“But I saw it!” Jimmy protested.
“No you didn’t. Fairies are only in stories.”
“What about the Tooth Fairy?”
“My brother says your mom does that.”
Jimmy wondered how his mom knew when every kid in the world lost a tooth.
“But it was glowing and had wings,” Jimmy pressed.
“It must’ve been an angel.”
2.
It was funny to see him lying there. Not funny ha-ha, but funny weird. There were butterflies loose in her stomach; she was glad she’d skipped breakfast.
He looked smaller than she remembered, like a doll in a box, and no doubt just as light, un-tethered by the weight of his life or his innards.
3.
“Hurry up, I hear someone.”
“You’re paranoid,” Jessi sneered.
Heather stood in the empty corridor chewing her fingernails to blood, eyes bouncing from door to door. The home-ec class had burned their assignment; she could smell it.
“Okay, let’s go,” Jessi called, and they ran, leaving their handiwork behind, SLUT scrawled across the grey locker.
4.
To her, poems were drugs, absorbed to alter the mind. She had to have them, and wanted them to be a part of her somehow.
She was on the verge of eating them, she explained.
“Why don’t you bathe in them?” he laughed.
She shrugged, tearing the pages from their binding as the tub filled.
“But I saw it!” Jimmy protested.
“No you didn’t. Fairies are only in stories.”
“What about the Tooth Fairy?”
“My brother says your mom does that.”
Jimmy wondered how his mom knew when every kid in the world lost a tooth.
“But it was glowing and had wings,” Jimmy pressed.
“It must’ve been an angel.”
2.
It was funny to see him lying there. Not funny ha-ha, but funny weird. There were butterflies loose in her stomach; she was glad she’d skipped breakfast.
He looked smaller than she remembered, like a doll in a box, and no doubt just as light, un-tethered by the weight of his life or his innards.
3.
“Hurry up, I hear someone.”
“You’re paranoid,” Jessi sneered.
Heather stood in the empty corridor chewing her fingernails to blood, eyes bouncing from door to door. The home-ec class had burned their assignment; she could smell it.
“Okay, let’s go,” Jessi called, and they ran, leaving their handiwork behind, SLUT scrawled across the grey locker.
4.
To her, poems were drugs, absorbed to alter the mind. She had to have them, and wanted them to be a part of her somehow.
She was on the verge of eating them, she explained.
“Why don’t you bathe in them?” he laughed.
She shrugged, tearing the pages from their binding as the tub filled.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Tat Tuam Asi
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?
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?
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
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