Category Archives: Dreams

Melt the Ice Away

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Upon bare feet tread smooth
ice-cold, soft-blue;
step after step–place each with care
frozen tundra before me, hoping he might be there.
But no one, not a soul, I remain alone.
Too far to try to return safely home.
With eyes cast below, staring into the sea,
a thin layer of ice between the ocean and me.
Days turn to weeks, I drown in the rain
suffering the heart for him that still remains.
Rubbed raw and empty, searching in vain.
Ears caught in illusion as his ghost whispers my name.
Only, he whispers again, a voice in the breeze,
a desperate cry that lingers, haunting me.
Over and over, my eyes lift from the ground;
before me, he smiles, without making a sound.
I run to him fast, far and away
toes slipping on sleet, I am nearly misplaced.
Scars scorch the ice, cracking under my feet.
Faster, I run, that they may not capture me.
Closer, I come, but after me still.
The cracks in the ice have one mind and one will.
But I reach him all the same, wrapped tight in his arms
spun on his heel, the whole world to discard.

But the sun peeks from the clouds, too soon to discover
the cracks become holes, our winter is over.
Around us, shines the sea as the ice melts away
a new dawn free of tundra, beginning this day.
He holds me tighter, moments soon, we will be drowned
with less and less ice to serve as our ground.
Kissed my forehead, promises forever, eternity with me
in Heaven, in Hell, together and strong, or at least we believe.
But when we look down, the ice melted away, our feet find soft earthy land,
an island, so small, that only we fit, alive by the sea, we still stand.

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.

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.

And Snow Falls From Her Sky

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She steps out onto the terrace,
and gazes at the sky.
Perhaps it shall uncover some truth this day
that since now, she’s been denied.

What is this world, why am I here?
she wonders with a sigh.
She asks in blatant amnesty
if she might know the reason why.

Snow falls again this day,
in the middle of the spring.
There is no sun, no moon, no clouds;
only forgotten things.

Like beams that come from nowhere
of light that may not truly be.
And darkness that comes without warning
any day, any night, suddenly.

And moments that last forever,
time stopped by empty words.
Promises of a beautiful place
beyond this snow-globe world.

And the case that now confines her
to a land she’d never been.
She places her hand upon the glass
and yearns for her heart within.

And the land above that spans her,
the lightbulb in the room.
The cat that prowls and watches her,
the flowers in the vase that bloom.

The fish that so resembles her life,
only palace is his home.
The dog that barks incessantly
when the Others leave him alone.

The mother that cries for her child’s loss,
she yearns to touch her hand.
To promise her she is still alive,
here, in this snowglobe land.

The father who is now a lush,
and spends days and nights in a vapor.
The sister who sleeps in the very room
where Snow Girl’s life feels tapered.

Her tiny fingers leave prints of dust
upon the glass held strong.
She yearns to hold herself again,
for she’s been here far too long.

Too long missing, too long gone,
in a world she should not be.
A globe of snow, shaken each day
and tortured by what she sees.

The mouse that crawls in during the night,
places his palm to hers.
Understands her entrapment
in not so many words.

Would release her if he could,
but cannot break the glass.
So becomes her companion
until the day that he is past.

And again, alone, in snow.
In house she can’t enter,
trapped in spring and summer and fall;
cursed to forever winter.

And so she sits upon church steps,
and watches her outside.
Is shaken again, and falls again,
and snow falls from her sky.

I was watching a rather strange show on Cartoon Network last night called MAD. I had never seen it before and I don’t plan to see it again, but it did bring up a rather strange idea. It gave a fake term of phobia for “the fear that if you shake a snowglobe you are ruining the lives of many little people inside.” It was meant to be funny, but I thought that with a little effort, I could change it to beautiful. And out of that came this.

On another note, I will be undergoing surgery tomorrow so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to post anything. I’m going to try my best to get something written tonight and schedule it for tomorrow but the last time I scheduled a post it didn’t pan out and I ended up having to post it myself. So we’ll see what happens. If nothing else, I’ll write something up while I’m in recovery on my iPod and post it that way. Of course, if that does happen to be the case, you’ll have to forgive my writing. It may not be amazing in my drugged-up state.

Home

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I pretend
I do not see you around
in my heart
as it beats.

I surrender
to the thought that you were gone
in my soul
as it sees.

Angels held on high in Heaven,
why might you return?
What have you here
that there you didn’t?
Maybe this is home?

From the sky you fall
with broken wings
no one standing below.
No arms reaching out to catch you,
nobody even knows.

Why might you abandon Heaven,
have you returned for me?
Is this really home to you
and will it always be?

What happened to your halo?
What happened to your smile?
You haven’t been away too long
and yet, you’ve taken vile.

I can see the sadness in your eyes
the lonely in your thoughts.
I see the holy you replaced
with the memories you forgot.

I see the angel wings you flew
falling from your back,
how is it you have returned
and fallen so off-track?

Are you still holy angel?
Or are you man again?
Will you stay this time forever,
as it should have been?

Denounce your wings, your halo
glow in your true light.
I love you more than time could see
and for you I’ll always fight.

But I need you to be angel for me,
I need you to stay.
I thank God that He allowed you to come home,
I thank Him every day.

I think that maybe fate stepped in its hand
delivered you to me.
Gave me what I’ve prayed so long
could forever be.

Angel you fell from the sky,
I meant to catch your fall.
I tried, I tried, with all I had,
but it managed to catch all.

You broke into pieces on the floor,
I cannot take this anymore.
I must give my life for you,
my happiness for all you do.
Broken or not, I’m in love with you,
and I’ll never stop trying to save you.

You are my angel in disguise,
only seen throughout my eyes.
No one knows how much I try
except for you.

You are the wings that saved my fall
when I thought I’d lost it all.
You gave me what I need to fly
even if it made you fall.

You are my angel,
I’m not alone.
I’d wait a thousand years
for you to come home.
You fell between the stars
and I should have known.
I wish I had been there
to bring you home.

You strayed the path you thought
God would make you walk.
You took your own way through,
and I forgot.
I meant to save you,
but I was too lost.
You came and found me
at your own cost.

You made it certain
I’d not be alone.
Renounced your angel
and you came home.

More midnight musings. This time without sleep is really starting to take its toll on me. As this is just another midnight musing, it’s not amazing. I left it mostly unedited because I don’t really like changing what I manage to think up while I’m half-asleep. I feel like it’s cheating myself, and I’m not really sure why.

And the Tide Betrayed the Ocean

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It rises, then it falls;
like breath to a newborn child.
Natural, habitual,
if somewhat inelegant.
But it rises, and then it falls.

Until the morning the sun did not rise,
and the moon hung low in the west.
An eye in the dawn,
watching over all things,
the owls that remained,
and the birds that desired to sing.
The crickets that cried
for the morning to come.
Legs rubbed raw and red,
but the sun seemed to be gone.

And it only fell.

And waves in the ocean pulled back into a pulse,
storms tattered lost villages with a thundering force.
Utopian Atlantis shut up  behind its closed doors,
to keep shuttered the violence of the tempest-like storm.

And it did not rise.

And darkness remained, only lit by the moon,
until a child looked up and saw that it was gone too.
Forgotten soon, with the sun, and no more of use than the dew
upon grass blades that surrendered to the loss of the youth.

And it remained.

Until the oceans were still with dark waters turned black.
Fish that swam blind, like those in caves with the bats.
Birds that flew low and still lost their track,
and people that cried for the loss of their past.

And so it was.

The darkest the world had ever been.
Every morning was still, every night, silent.
Rain that resisted until normal again.
The longest night Earth had seen, many years in advance.

The lives crashing down, a plague of sweltering ash,
the world coming to a close, and becoming so fast.
Hopes ever-fading, ending ever near,
and pleas that relied on so-far silent ears.

Until the sun rose.

High in the sky on a gold-white throne,
spent with a crown of rubies and light Earth had never known.
A night that now ended, after the hell that had been,
until the tide betrayed the ocean again.

Every couple of years, it seems there’s someone telling us that the world is going to end. In fact, our next one is coming up in October. Judgment Day! Predicted by the same man who said the rapture was to happen on May 21st. Remember that? Yeah, well I may not be free of sin, I suppose, but I think I’m good enough to still be raptured. And I see you’re still here too. What, you’re not good enough? Look, I’m a Christian, and I really don’t mean to offend, but those predictions are bullshit. The Bible says quite specifically that no one will know when the rapture is to come.

So what do we Christians (SOME, slightly messed up ones of us) do? Well we try to defy what we’re supposed to believe anyway. Makes sense, right?

Oh, and 2000? What happened to Y2K? And June 6th, 2006? Le gasp! Somehow we survived those too! We must be cockroaches, us humans. Geez. Oh, and let’s not forget 2012. We’ve got the Mayans to thank for that one. I’ll say this much, I graduate in 2012. If those Mayans happen to be right, I’m going to be PISSED. Anyway, I’ll step down from my soap-box.

What I meant to say was that this is my version of the end of the world. I don’t think it’ll be a meteor. In fact, to tell the truth, I don’t even think humans will be alive when it happens. I think we will have so far screwed ourselves by then, it won’t even matter, we’ll be long extinct. But, if we are, this is how I see it. I think it’ll come slowly. Like darkness. Things will just slowly stop until everything stops, and all life is over.

Just one theory, in about a thousand of them.

The Master in the Sky

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Her head holds high
on fish-line taut
with eyes that do not see.

Her arms to each side
never moving, not a motion;
everything is out of reach.

Her feet tread water,
splash clumsily in
but she cannot swim back to the shore.

Once, she was free
without puppet strings, or dark masters;
once, but forever nevermore.

As a kid, there is very little that is worse than being told no. As a teenager, I feel that the urge for independence is even greater. I cannot speak for the adult population, but I can speak from experience. I am a stubborn person. Tell me no, and I’ll do it. Tell me I can’t, and I’ll find a way. I have a bad habit of rebellion, to the point of lying, and cheating, and screaming, and fighting to get what I want. I guess I’m a little more than spoiled.

But what happens when you can’t get what you want? When all your life, you have been guided by the will of others. No control over any situation in your life. As I’ve already said in a previous post, I am petrified of losing control, so the idea of having my life planned out for me by someone else infuriates me.

And so, as an ode to all of the evil puppet masters of the world, and a song of sorrow to all of the puppets, I wrote this. At about two in the morning. While half asleep.

The Slave of Dusk

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Broken shackles and links of chain
clatter on concrete walls.
Her feet slide one in place of the other
as she passes other, long-empty stalls.

She is free.
They say.

Her steps echo boundless to ceilings and floor,
and ricochet off iron bars.
She steps out of her prison to a placid night
pockmarked with long-gone stars.

She had hoped
to see the sun.

The luminescent moon is veiled
by wisps of audacious cloud.
Heaven, which seemed so close once upon a time,
seems so far away to her now.

The angels bear her
no light.

Phantom hounds from Hell stalk behind,
padding on well-worn paws.
Nipping at her ankles, catching her broken chains,
tearing her leg-flesh raw.

They will
never go.

Ghosts of nameless faces follow,
seemingly her entourage.
But guards, instead, and inescapable
and as elusive as her will’s mirage.

They are taking her
despite the truth.

To the edge of abyss, and so far down,
into a void unknown.
None return, and none survive
the execution of such renown.

She is
innocent.

A crowd has gathered, with gapes of awe,
and laughter to appease.
And her captor in his golden crown,
a royal, ostentatious beast.

He will not
yield.

He has given them a show,
but the best is yet to come.
The crowd yearns for blood, for death, and flesh
and glistening, visible bone.

She will not
cry.

Her eyes scan the crowd, pick out those she knew,
who turn away in shame.
“Good,” she thinks. “Feel regret for this,
mourn for your eternal blame.”

She hates these
people the most.

And then, she finds him, still a boy,
more youthful now than before.
His eyes are wide, tears stain his cheeks
and his soul fights a hidden war.

She is
reassured.

“Any last words?” the proud king asks,
a glee behind his smirk.
She shakes her head and takes her place,
stifling her fear and mirth.

She is
assured.

Isn’t she?

Her eyes find him, her only love,
stepping forward in the crowd.
Closer to where she now kneels,
closer, closer now.

No.
Not him.

She is assured.

The phantom dogs stop barking,
ghosts stifle their phantasmal howls.
The sword is raised, the edge poised down,
the wind through spirits growls.

Not him.
Please not him.

“You die for your crime, in accordance to law,”
the king says with smile.
Ashes curl in crevices of his black crown,
and his teeth rot grey and vile.

She has made
no crime.

But in this court?
She will lie.

For him.

The boy steps forward, pushes past ghosts,
kicks at the hounds that snarl.
“Innocent!” he declares of her,
“With me you have your quarrel!”

Stop.
Stop now.

The ghost king laughs. The ghost king heaves.
He coughs up soot and ash.
“This girl is sent to death for you,
and yet you still rehash the past?”

She loves
him.

But she doesn’t
want this.

“She is sentenced for her crime,” the ghost king says.
“She will die as is set by the law.”
She watches the boy as he draws closer still,
the words catching in his throat and his jaw.

He is
scared.

“Take my life, if you must,” she says standing up,
her arms spread in front of the boy.
“Take everything I own, my heart and my soul,
but don’t take the boy that I love.”

Don’t take
him.

The sword raised and poised, so close to her heart
lusting after her blood and her pain,
but if she can save him, if his life might be spared,
she will take whatever may come her way.

She cannot
survive without him.

She closes her eyes, and feels herself spill,
hot tears streaming tracks down her cheeks.
She feels herself fall to the ground with a thud,
and she feels the cool sting of the breeze.

It is cold.
She is cold.

She feels his hands fumble, closing fingers over wounds
as he tries to stop the blood in its tracks.
She feels herself weaken, but stronger somehow.
She feels herself seep through the cracks.

She loves
him.

She feels her bitter sorrow washing away
with what feels like the rain from the sky.
She feels the surprise in her audience before her,
she feels the weight of all the ghost eyes.

She is
fading.

She feels the chains on her wrists and ankles
turn to ash and then wither away.
She hears the boy’s screams, distant and mournful,
as he begs desperately that she stay.

But she
has faded.

And she loves him.

So it’s okay.

Alright, alright. I know this is exceedingly long. I began with the thought to have about four stanzas. I thought I could get the story out in that amount of time, but apparently not. And there’s not really a huge moral to the story short of self-sacrifice. This was again, just another one of my strange dreams. Strangely enough, I was one of the ghost people, looking on as a girl who looked suspiciously like me was sentenced to death for a crime that the love of her life committed. Because she loved him, she (of course) took the penalty to protect him (isn’t that what you do for someone you love), but he wouldn’t allow it without a fight.

I really should see someone about these dreams…

A Blind and Silent Search

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He holds me in his arms, whispering platitudes of love
with the heartfelt, open denial of the world we’re dreaming of.
He holds my hands up to his face, and places on each a kiss,
tells me I’ll never be alone, in times so hard as this.

“Let’s play a game,” he suggests to me, with a smile on his lips.
“Hide and seek,” he says to me, with a certain noted bliss.
I fear, somehow. I doubt in him, though I feel I have betrayed;
the loose ends I keep tying up, are perpetually frayed.

“Close your eyes,” he requests, turning me around.
I feel his arms slip away from me, he leaves without a sound.
I close my eyes and count to ten, and twenty, and fifty-five,
and to a hundred, and larger still, and then open my eyes.

And yet, that darkness haunts me, as if my eyes were stitched up,
blackened void, and abyss before me, because my eyes stay shut.
I try to pull my lids apart, to see the scene I know is there,
to no avail, I soon discover, because somehow, I still have failed.

I open my mouth, I try to scream, but a whimper only comes out,
I say his name in whispered thoughts, I try desperately to shout.
I cry tears that can leave me, taunting as they fall
because they escape the darkness that plagues my world in awe.

I shout again, this time I’m heard, by my own ears only, it seems.
No one else comes to my rescue. No one else hears my screams.
I call his name, “It’s not a joke, I am stricken blind!”
“Save me!” I beg. “Come save me!” But I fear I’m left behind.

I stumble through the bushes, feel thorns scrape up my thighs
I catch my hands on roses, blackened as if they’d died.
And the stem, and the bush, and the trees, and the sky,
all void, all gone, disappeared to my eyes.

I call his name again, in vain. Begging to be found.
He doesn’t come to save me, I fall to the ground.
Gravel digs into my knees, I feel the warmth of blood,
I wonder if this is my end, if I shall lose in love.

I shake, I shiver, I hold myself, nothing compared to his arms.
I realize that this game we play was gambling in cards.
I threw a coin into the air, when I let him walk away.
There never was a guarantee he’d remain, a guarantee that he would stay…

This is based off of a nightmare I had a while back. Quite often I find myself blind in my dreams. I always seem to know what’s going on around me, but I cannot witness it, and I can’t do anything to change it. Honestly, I think I have these nightmares because one of my greatest fears is losing control over a situation, topped only by the fear that the people I love will leave me. I would say about once a week at least I have a dream where I cannot see anything. Slightly less often, I have nightmares of full-body paralysis, which I guess it more frightening to me because I am forced to watch what is happening, but do nothing.

This nightmare however was probably the worst I’ve ever had. It put together my two greatest fears and forced me to face them both at once. I know, you’re supposed to face your fears in order to overcome them, but this did NOT help me overcome EITHER. I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, and because I sleep in as dark of an environment as possible, I thought I really was blind. After turning on a light and realizing that I was okay, I had to text the guy it was about around three in the morning just to make sure that he was okay. It was exhausting and petrifying.

On the bright side, it made good fodder for poetry. See, when you’re an optimist, there’s ALWAYS a bright side. 🙂

The Flames of Passion

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With a flicker that cast shadows sorrowfully dancing,
and a mourning that cast light in empty rooms
among the shards of silvered mirror shattered upon the floor
I tread with feet that knew no bounds and bled new wounds.
I glanced down to watch the stones below me laughing,
as if they knew a secret I might never see.
A breeze whistled through windows there,
and I watched as the walls began closing in on me.

The candle burst and crackled, flame climbing to the sky,
fear ran deep beneath the fires, burning softly with a sigh.
And struggles to live without a cause, and struggles to survive.
Until it falls to unforgiving stone, and slowly, it’s snuffed and dies.
And catches before completely gone, in timbers carelessly placed,
by the last nobody that may have lived here, whom I can no longer trace.
And burns much brighter than the sun, though misplaced it may be,
a trance of passion in fluorescent flames, somehow it captures me.

And I think of you, I think of this,
I remember who I was.
I remember how you’ve changed me so,
and stolen my once sole cause.
How the fires of my old flame
burned low, then down to none,
and when you walked into my life,
sadly, they were gone.

I love you darling, with all my heart. And I know I always will,
but you’ve stolen who I used to be, and molded me with your spell.
I shall never speak of my passion lost, or my reach to re-attain
all of the things that once defined me, but appear now less than inane.
I fear I may never burn as brightly as the fire that I once was,
but as a child, I may find more than what once was only cause.

Passion once, and passion lost,
and candles that burned out.
And hopeless thought to rekindle them
as it is useless now.
I’m not that girl, might never be,
can’t attain all that I used to.
But I’ll let that passion burn and die,
if it means I can still love you.

Pretty self-explanatory, but this is about sacrifice. Giving up what you love most for the person you love. While I do believe sacrifice is important, I also believe whole-heartedly that you should never give yourself up for someone else, no matter how much you love that person. That’s not what this is saying. It’s more, letting go of the thing that defines you so that you can define yourself. And in the process, shifting the passion you had for what you loved to the person you love.