Monthly Archives: August 2011

There Was no Beginning

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Secretly
(and selfishly),
I still,
When captured by inopportunity,
Think back to those days
Underneath a blanket of clouds,
Above a blushing sky,
Pink and orange and golden.
I still remember us.

I still remember moments i locked away
Never to be considered.
But on those moments replicated,
A deja vu
The days I wish I never knew
That tore me to pieces
Because of you
And your lack of understanding.

You still don’t understand.

And upon a moment
Left bare and bone
Seeds that will never be unsewn
Flesh torn out in tiny pieces
There is no mend.
There was no beginning
And no end
And left no corpse of what I may lament.
And left no evidence
But a handprint.
And left no soul behind.
There is no middle part to remember.

And I realize, that secretly, I’ve begun to hate you.
I’ve no grounds behind my claim
No legitimate justification
Of why I still leave you to my blame.
I know only that I sometimes remember
But only when I hear your name
For in every other moment of my life
You were nothing more than a phase.

And now you’re easy
To erase.

The Picket Fence Life

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His eyes are far away, in lands soft and dizzy.
His heart is miles lost, and to a fault less than leery,
he holds up in his hands the moments of doubt.
He tends to forget sometimes what his life is about.

In sunsets. In moonlight, in fireflies dancing
in dewdrops, in mornings, in the minutes still passing,
he frets that his life will fall to pieces on the floor
and I don’t know how to tell him, he need not worry anymore.

I wrap my arms around him, whisper in his ear,
“I will protect you forever, worry not my dear.
You are the stronger man in any woman’s eyes.
You’ll have everything you want, whatever you desire.”

I tell him of the days that I wait so anxiously for,
the opportunities he’s brought to me, the ones I’ve placed at his door.
The moments when we grow old, and the youth we have still now,
I kiss his cheek softly, smooth the wrinkle from his brow.

He will be married to a wife who’d give up her heart.
He will have the life of a king, she will hold close to the start.
She promises him everything, anything he wants and more,
she’ll give him her heart, her soul, whatever he asks for.

He will have children who are wrapped around his legs,
with tiny hands and arms, put them to sleep in tiny beds.
He will spend nights at home, happily content with peace.
He will go to sleep each night, and wake up beside me.

He will have power in the career of his choosing,
he’ll treat his coworkers well, without over-abusing.
He’ll trust his earnings into salary micro-managed,
he is a strong man, he will have his plan.

And when he is old and grey, I will still be beside him,
we’ll watch our kids get old, and we will still confide in.
We’ll still be the best friends we are, and a life still left unaltered
the love we have now will have grown yet still, and untarnished and unfaltered.

He listens to my tales of surreptitious pandering,
A smile finds his lips as he hears my senseless ramblings.
I’ve said all this before, but it still comforts him to hear
that no matter where he goes in life, I’ll still always be here.

Wherever You Are

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Behind black brick,
beneath grey stone
caught in steel shackles
behind iron bars;
without sound or echo
void even of rats
in buried dungeons, I’ll find you
wherever you are.

Caught in thorns of brambles,
caged by fallen trees
beneath swollen skies and tempest
captive held by angry breeze;
rain-spattered ground as quicksand
sunk deep in darkened tarn
mirrored eyes in dewdrops
and held by captor, Harm.
Vines entangled around unbalanced ankles
arms spread wide and far,
in fallen forests, I’ll protect you
wherever you are.

On dark ground stolen from innocent
beneath skies palid and grey,
among forgotten sorrow and lost remains
of an only slightly happier day.
Surrounded by flames that lick your blood,
tearing holes into your legs,
charring flesh and burning skin
taking air with desperate dregs.
In seas of ash with tides of dust
on scorched earth fried from life,
the grass so far, in distant lands
under watch of pebblestone eyes.
Through flames and ash and fallen blood
and over bodies black as tar,
in earth as lost as Hell itself, I’ll save you
wherever you are.

In time worn old by moments
that have past and gone,
behind us, before them,
then, and now, and alone;
in a world foreign but familiar
beneath skies younger than I
dark with clouds, and light with the sun
and stars that burn too bright;
and the moon that saw no footprints
and the Everest never scaled
and the apple never fallen
and the humanity never failed;
beneath a Heaven still held holy
above a Hell still held fear
below the grace of what will be
and above the future so held near;
torn to pieces by the deafened silence
of peasants and kings ripped raw
in sancitity of what had never been
but will be by Fate’s law;
in a time less like ours, where I am not
and have not lived so far
far in the past, the future, never still,
I’ll find you, wherever you are.

Laughter in the Rain

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In a dream I had with pieces that once left missing,
I saw a silver gown that fell below my toes.
And from the clouds above that blinded every angel
I met the mists of rain that sought to turn me ghost.
And all the people in the crowds jumped up and scrambled
to reach the cars, or buildings, rooms of dry safety.
And yet upon turning my attention back to what mattered,
I saw thet he was still standing proudly beside me.
In a suit of black slowly turning blacker
as the rain fell down and caught upon his cheeks.
His smile remained and his eyes held only laughter
as he walked closer and wrapped his arms around me.

A Quick Note

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I’m so sorry I haven’t updated in so long. I really do keep meaning to, but with classes, homework, and my slowly reviving social life, I’ve had no time. I have three or so projects going on my own as well, and prewriting for them has completely consumed my every thought, choking out all room for inspiration. Not to mention, I’ve had no time to even begin the novel I keep promising myself to work on.

I’ve decided to wait until September for that. But as for this blog, I’m going to try to get an update (try… No, I WILL) in tonight. Please, keep bearing with me. Things are just sort of crazy right now. Once they calm down I’ll have a lot less trouble.

Freefalling

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Fanned out fingers catching breezes,
a dozen thoughts provoked without valid reasons.
Tresses of hair tousled by seasons;
as if I could forget you are my heart.

A glance over the edge of a skyscraper,
the silent, lost eyes of a dreaming gazer;
tossed by the wind as light as paper.
Distractions capture dreamers like a web.

And chained by eerie obligation
held unreliably by justification.
Perhaps not more than sickly-sweet sedation
and a fall into the sky.

Thrown beyond all inhibition,
hair thrown back in new disposition.
Eyes stitched shut, wary elation;
will a savior come cease this fall?

A parachute cut short of strings,
a struggle with more mortal things–
wed to Grim with eternal rings,
but forever alive in spirit, in soul.

A fool, trapped blind in swollen bliss.
Steady clouds that shed a mist.
Forgotten sorrow traded for happiness,
until eyes open once more.

Pavement spread like grain and grass,
unspoken truce of shattered glass
and shattered bone may come to pass.
Closer, closer, meters away.

Heart speeds, jumps out of my chest,
eyes washed white, and black, the rest.
Moon cataracts, for which I’m blessed;
that I might not watch myself crumple.

Arms thrown out, entrapping me.
And from the ground, only a couple feet,
but in his arms where I’m supposed to be–
my Superman.

My Role in the World

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If all the world is a stage:

Then I must be a bard.
Whispering sweet echoes
of words that never meant anything,
a fictional story from deceitful lips.
A promised tale of a forbidden kiss,
a song of glass shattered in cold white loss.
The quiet cooled, the coin my cost.
The whole world an audience
with clapping hands
or perhaps with scorn
for they don’t understand.
And scowls profaning cheeks
with soft pink blush,
shouting obscenities
that make me flush.

Then I must be an actress
with a painted face.
A smile, and tears
that I cannot erase.
A gown of gold, a crown of silver
in my hair,
and audience below me
without a care.
With other thoughts in mind
than who I really am.
Only eyes for the girl
that I must pretend.
And eyes for the man
that I do not love,
but the character I play
is written to must.

Then I must sing
with a sheltered voice.
Tempered too sharp,
feet without poise.
Words that mean less
than they do to me.
Because my audience
is too blind to see.
Heart on heart, I stand,
pouring out my soul;
if all the world’s a stage
then I must have no role.