An Amazonian

2010-06-28T15:21:00.001-07:00

Fluidic motivation.
Lies wrapped in lies
and more lies.
Deliciously oozing deception,
tempting tasty treats.
Perspective dances lightly
tiptoes across fields of truth
twirling out of reach
ever changing and evolving.

Out

2010-06-28T10:36:00.000-07:00

I lay exhausted,
in a bed I've made,
praying to a god
that doesn't exist,
for sleep to claim me.
To escape
to a world
of waking dreams
where reality is not
and confusion reigns.
Where there is no goal
and no quest
and no outcome.
The abyss
where the mind floats
freely in a hazy
drifting weightlessness.
Where anything is nothing
and impossible is possible.
The only true freedom.

Scars

2010-06-23T13:50:00.001-07:00

Touched an old scar today.
Remembered when it used to bleed.
When I used to pick the scab,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

You abandoned me to die.
Strangers in my bed.
Crying myself to sleep,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

Woke up alone one day.
Body broken and bruised.
A shattered mind and soul,
hurting to try and feel.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

Woke up scared one day.
Terrified I was losing myself.
Burned your memory away,
hurting to try and forget.

Do you even know?
Would you even care?

The scars are all that remain.
Long healed and silvery white.
Sometimes I still touch them,
sometimes they still hurt.

Brave or Foolish?

2010-05-03T21:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a movie, or perhaps a novel. Its this bizarre tale of a girl who looks normal on the surface, who lives, laughs, and loves...but scratch past the 'brave exterior' and you find that she's just coping.

While her brother lives in an institution, diagnosed with a mental disorder that has not yet been named but looks like paranoid schizophrenia; while her sister lives in a foreign country with a husband who allegedly beats her, doesn't let her see their child, is preventing her from coming back to her home country, and may be running some sort of illegal operation under the watchful eye of immigration and other authorities; while her other brother struggles through life thinking that he's cool and that "it will never happen to him" while he falls deeper and deeper into the pit of addiction to drugs and alcohol; while her other sisters struggle to find themselves and purpose in their lives after leaving home being told that they will fail in life. And then there's her parents...one who may have an undiagnosed mental illness...a man who can be kind and loving sometimes, and then at the turn of a dime be the most cruel and unreasonable bastard that you've ever met. And the other who loves him so dearly that she has chosen to stand by his side no matter what he says or does, no matter the cost to her own health, relationships, or life.

And that's just immediate family.

Sounds like fiction, right? Well...sometimes the truth is stranger.

Sometimes I wonder why I even started this blog. Why I would come back to it after so long and continue to post on it...why I wouldn't just delete it all.

Perhaps its the perception of anonymity. The desire to just "get it all out" in some form or another and the realization that there isn't really anyone to talk to about this. Maybe I just prefer to talk to myself about my shit. Although when you really think about it, this forum isn't me talking to myself...it's me putting all my shit out there for anyone to read. And hope that they don't know who I am.

Then again, do I really even care if they know who I am?

Truth be told, I started this because I was inspired by a stranger. It seemed like a good idea at the time. However, I think that my sanity and my mental stability were teetering on the edge at that time...and he sort of bore the brunt of that instability and, well, let's just call a spade a spade. He bore the brunt of my crazy...and my obsessive. Sorry about that...as I wince and smile sheepishly. And then I smile at myself and laugh a little because after the crazy and obsessive that I subjected him to, I'm sure he doesn't read this...if he ever did. At any rate, I'm glad that he did inspire me and some good did come out of that whole fiasco. I started writing again and some of the shit I posted is damn good. That makes me happy.

Anyhow, although I started this because of a stranger's inspiration, I continued because it was good for me. And because it was a way to encourage myself to write. And then I stopped again because it hurt too much to write and because the maelstrom of words within me wouldn't come out in anything coherent and it was all just too much to bear. So I stopped. And I tried to ground myself again...and I found more inspiration in the humor that can be found in the terrible trials that life throws at us.

I think I could write nonsensical things forever if I let myself...I could share my truth with the world, as ever-changing as it is. I could examine every issue from multiple angles, holding each up to the light and twisting and turning it to watch each facet catch and cast light into my eyes, blinding me for a moment before I see the beauty and truth of each angle. I could write of the light and the dark, of the crazy and the sane...of how one could not exist without the other because without one, how could we define the other. I could write of perception and how that defines everything and how one thing is always the same, but it is perception that makes it different, always different. I could read back and try to explain and it still wouldn't make sense to everyone, least of all to myself. Except in flashes of insight and moods like I'm in tonight where the words flow from my fingers without my thinking about them. And I know I'll look back again and not remember writing them because that's just how this works.

The point...the point you say? Well the point is this. Brave or foolish? Is truth brave? or is truth foolish? So many are afraid to speak truth...afraid of what others will think of them. Of being judged or seeming not "normal". So if I speak the truth (shhhh, don't tell), will anyone read it? Will anyone believe it? Will anyone know it was me? If I type the truth, I don't know who will read it or believe it or know it was me...and I guess that makes it feel safer. I guess that makes it feel OK to share my secrets and other people's secrets with the world.

So, goodnight world. Please, take my truth and my apology and cast the nets out there into the abyss or the ether or whatever other unknown exists beyond my computer screen. Take my truths and let anyone read them and perceive them as they will. One day this will come back to me and I will know whether the impulse to type tonight was brave, or if it was foolish...

Insomnia

2009-08-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

I sleep dreamless.
And yet when I wake I dream.
Unreal images,
reality merged
with fantastical illusion,
faded at the edges,
creased and worn.
I struggle to breathe,
drowning in uncertainty.
A world turned inside out.
Through closed eyes
I find peace in oblivion,
in dreamless sleep,
where the world makes sense.

Love's End

2009-06-12T12:06:00.001-07:00

What happens when love dies?
Does it go slowly and softly,
a whisper of silk sliding off the end of a bed?
Does it go violently and with passion,
a hurricane of tempestuous proportions
slamming against a brick wall?
Does it drift away in the night,
a thief stealing off in the shadows?
Whether loud or quiet, passionate or passionless,
it leaves a vacant, empty void when love dies.
A patch of painful barren ground.
But where there is death,
there is hope
that one day life and love will spring anew.

Cherry Blossoms

2009-05-31T12:01:00.000-07:00

A cloud of pink petals
blows around my head
dancing delicately in the breeze.
Lightly
they drift like pink snowbanks.
Releasing, as I crush them
unintentionally,
with clumsy feet,
the sweet fragrance of spring.

2009-04-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

It has been silent in my mind for a time. Well, not silent, but not loud enough to write. There has been a gentle thudding in the background, a strangled croak every time I've tried to sit down and string words together. I think a storm is gathering once again.

Sadly, when contentment and joy pervades my existence, I tend to be less creative. My dark side is my muse and when joy is at the forefront, the darkness is pushed to the edges and is less dominant in my mind. I miss it. But the sacrifice has been worth it.

I find myself increasingly restless and dissatisfied, but not with the personal aspects of my life. I find myself increasingly irritated at the youth of today and their sense of entitlement. As if just for living on this earth, they deserve more. It enrages me. The laziness and the disrespect enrages me. It is hard to hold it back and I don't know if I care to anymore.

At any rate, it seems that summer is my season. The season to stretch my muscles, to have an opinion, to express myself. As soon as the sun peaks his head from behind the clouds, I begin to awaken again. My creative streak goes into hyperdrive and I write and create again. I do hope that will happen soon! For I've much to write if I can only get it down in black and white.

Hush

2009-03-01T23:29:00.000-08:00

In the stillness,
in the silence,
there is peace,
there is truth.

If you listen,
if you hear,
there is peace,
there is truth.

Pointless

2009-03-01T22:37:00.000-08:00

Increasingly lately, I wonder why anyone cares about all the commercialized bullshit out there. I'm sitting here watching later night television tonight, sick in my soul at the egos and materialism displayed on television. Whether it's celebrity egotism or people overly obsessed with the material goods that ridiculous wealth can bring, I wonder why anyone cares. I'm concerned with today's youth who seem increasingly obsessed with these material things.

There are so many more important things in the world than brand name or designer objects. There is so much that is more worth time and energy than the acquisition of the newest technological gadget. This commercial society that we have built is driving our society into ruin. It seems to me that very few people can continue to acquire without credit, driving them further and further into debt. And once they are in debt, they are doubtless in it for a good long time.

Why is the government bailing out companies when there are so many people stuck in personal debt? Why are we continuing to allow advertising to make us want stuff? Why do we continue to acquire that which merely clutters our lives and prevents us from seeing what matters?

But on the other side of that, what is it that matters? That is dependent on the person and on the perception. But the way I see it, life matters, people matter, relationships matter, survival matters. Anything else is secondary. Anything else is pointless. Technology has made us soft. It has made us forget. Life used to be hard, truly hard...not dramatically hard the way it is today. Life used to be a struggle to survive day to day. Now that survival is relatively simple, we have forgotten the simple pleasures of life. The sun, the rain, the earth that feed us, the fire that warms us.

I yearn for a return to the simple hard life that once was. I yearn for an appreciation of what we have in this country, in this world. Why have we forgotten? Why do we no longer appreciate? Why are we no longer grateful? We have forgotten how to love one another...we no longer even make eye contact on the street. As for community, it is largely a thing of the past.

If not for the continuation of life, why are we even here?

Maelestrom

2008-12-17T17:52:00.000-08:00

Knowledge lost?
Knowledge betrayed?
Knowledge protected?

Couched away in myth and legend,
hidden in supposition.

Grains of truth
blowing,
swirling,
floating away.
Within reach,
but too fine to grasp.

Waiting for the winds to stop
and the onslaught
of the storm to ease.

Truth as grains of sand,
lying at my feet,
free for the taking,
ready to be taken,
too numerous to count,
irresistible nonetheless.

The Oak Tree

2008-10-31T22:51:00.000-07:00

I sink into the comfort
of your embrace,
warmth humanified.
You wrap me in rapture
and ecstasy,
your hands oblivious
to anything but my skin
in long rapturous strokes.
I am electric beneath you;
your lips brush mine
and we spark.
When you are near,
I breathe more freely;
when your arms are around me,
I feel protected and safe
from the wicked night.

And more of the same...thoughts for a Tuesday...

2008-10-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

Contrary to popular belief, we are not destroying our planet.

Hold on, before you fly off the handle at me, let me explain!

We are modifying and manipulating it. We are altering the planet into something other than what it currently is. We are changing her ability to support life and we are disrupting the equilibrium. This does not destroy the planet, though it destroys what we are used to. It destroys species by rendering them extinct, but this is not the destruction of our planet. This is tragic and it is terrible and it is the destruction of life, but it is not the destruction of the planet. It is modification and alteration.

The planet adapts, the planet changes. Species adapt and change or they die.

Gee, I wonder where my thoughts lie today?

Survival of the Fittest?

2008-10-21T16:15:00.000-07:00

What I find amusing is that for all the time and effort that people put into creation and building and manipulating this world, it rebels in it's own way. And left to it's own devices, it would destroy all that we have wrought and return to it's natural state fairly quickly. We think that we are so powerful, but we are nothing compared to the might of our planet, the forces of nature.

Sure, the destruction of our civilization is terrible and heartrending in terms of what it does to people and to families (for example, hurricanes and earthquakes), but what of the destruction that we have wrought to our mother earth? We have changed her, modified and scarred her very flesh - and she unwilling. We have raped and pillaged and violated her in the most horrific ways and we still expect her to sustain us. I would think that we would have learned by now that nothing is gained when you try to take it by force.

And in the end, what have we gained? In the end, life will prevail. Whether human life will be among the survivors remains to be seen.

A Fable of Life

2008-10-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a life. She was beautiful, wild and free. Then came other lives. They were captivated by this life and did whatever they could to capture her attention. She lived with them, breathed with them, loved with them, but retained her wildness and freedom. These other lives became so besotted with her that they ached to possess her fully. They were jealous that she gave her attention freely to all those lives that swirled around her, believing that they were the only ones worthy of her attentions. In their quest to make her theirs, to mold her into something that they perceived would be more beautiful, they shackled her, they raped her, they plundered her, they created huge scars in her flesh, and they imbued poisons into her systems. And in the end, when they had taken everything from her and left her bent and broken, they lost interest in her. Because in trying to possess her, they destroyed that which had originally made her attractive and irresistible to them in the first place - her wildness and freedom.

But in the end, she had the last laugh. Her life was long and at her core she retained the seeds of her identity, the origins of her beauty. She knew that they were dependent upon her for their very survival, but they had so crippled her that though she loved all life, she could not give them what she would have liked to give. Her nature was compassionate and her purpose was to support life, regardless of ignorance. The would-be conquerors moved on, but without her support and encouragement and love they could not live and so they died. Her longevity prevailed. Over time, she healed and she became beautiful and wild once again. And despite her past tragedies and the horrors and indignities that she had suffered, she continued to freely share her life with all other life. Those who respected her enjoyed the same longevity that she did. Those who did not respect her enjoyed the same fate as the would-be conquerors.

She knew that would-be conquerors would rise once again and that the cycle would begin and beget anew. The cycle is constant and endless. But she is the mother, she who sustains. She will always sustain life and the respectful and loving will survive. But woe to those who will try to conquer that which is not meant to be conquered, for they will be limited in their longevity, causing their own destruction by the force of their own forceful natures.

This is the fable of the Earth, the Mother, she who sustains.

For Now

2008-10-21T15:55:00.000-07:00

Walking the sandy shores of today,
yesterday's expanse stretches behind,
faded footprints, memories in time,
washing away, blowing away,
as the sands of time shift and merge.
Tomorrow's promise stretches ahead,
the myriad of infinite tangled possibilities
that I walk towards
as today's sun recedes
and tomorrow's advances.

joyfully rising

2008-10-21T15:53:00.000-07:00

my heart soars
on rays of sunlight
and twilight stars

it has been lifted free
of it's dark watery grave
unchained, unrestrained
i lift my head
to embrace what comes
i rejoice
in the bountiful abundance
that has been gifted to me

i awaken and see
that which is light
and that which is dark
twisting and merging
in glorious joining

New Beginnings

2008-10-14T17:47:00.000-07:00

The swirling has slowed,
the merry-go-round near stopped.
Awareness expands,
an ever larger sphere.
Pervasive calm.
Contentment.

choices?

2008-10-09T21:59:00.000-07:00

tantalizing
disconcerting
balancing on the edge
lightness, darkness
swirling consternation
teetering
tiring
face the light
hide in the dark
merge?

Ambivalent

2008-10-04T23:40:00.000-07:00

Fear is your master,
bow down before him.
Fear is your maker,
you owe your life to him.
Tribute you pay him daily,
sniveling your fealty.
Strong as you may pretend,
he is your ruler in the end.

gods

2008-10-04T23:29:00.000-07:00

eyes closed
crimson tides
white plains

scenes devoid of color
washed in nothing but

flying through the air
on wings of dark light
surveying a kingdom
shrouded in night

forked tongues flicker
hissing in mirth
battle of heat
battle of light
battle of hearth

always the observer
hardly participating
cataloging history whilst
subtly affecting the making

fly through the years
watching grains of sand
kingdoms rise and fall
seas ebb and flow
time is the constant
always constant

earth and skies
heavens and stars

death and rebirth

devilish...

2008-10-04T23:25:00.000-07:00

angel my angel
where have you gone
imperfect angel
with bent broken wings
deceptive angel
lies on your lips
dark dirty angel
blackened in the fall
angel my angel
i miss you fornever

On My Terms

2008-10-04T23:17:00.000-07:00

somewhere between now and then
somewhere between then and there
i lost myself down a dark dark road
i lost myself and nobody cared

spinning my wheels
spitting up sand
spinning in circles
too dizzy to stand

tied down and roped in
straining against the chains
grabbed hold of the handy knife
to start my life over again

just random thoughts

2008-09-23T22:19:00.000-07:00

speak to me
speak through me
controversy reigns
it is the voice of change
challenge the status quo
it is the agent of change
think, learn, grow

A Little Girl

2008-09-23T18:00:00.000-07:00

A little girl sits and plays,
being just a little girl.
She doesn't fit in,
she doesn't conform.
She is just a little girl
being a little girl.
She does what she's told,
she obeys her parents.
She hides in her room
when her daddy is drunk.
She cries in her room
when her daddy is drunk.

That little girl begins to grow up.
And she still doesn't fit in,
and she still doesn't conform.
That older girl dreams of romance,
but she's always alone; it never arrives.
That older girl waits for a man,
but she suspects she will be alone.
That older girl finally finds a man
who says he loves her, says its forever.
She hides in her room
when he leaves her alone.
She cries in her room
when he leaves her alone.

That little girl is all grown up.
And she still doesn't fit in,
and she still doesn't conform.
That woman grown is a child inside,
that woman grown is battered and worn.
Her heart is heavy and free and chained,
been stomped and scarred and burned.
That woman grown dreams of romance,
but she's always alone; it never arrives.
She hides in her room
some things never change.
She cries in her room
why don't things ever change?

That woman grown, though a child inside,
is a woman who has been through hell.
That woman grown has battle scars
and has emerged a little more whole.
She is strong and proud and true and loved,
rock solid foundation of friendship.
That woman grown may dream of romance,
but she knows she can survive life alone.
And though sometimes she must hide and cry
she'll always emerge to face life again.
And so she sits and dreams and smiles,
another day lived, loved, and tried.

Lately

2008-09-23T17:47:00.000-07:00

Lately,
when I sleep I do not dream.
when I sit I grind my teeth.

Lately,
the smallest things seem way too big.
the biggest things seem so out of reach.

Lately,
I feel my body and soul do not fit.
I feel out of touch and disconnected.

Lately,
all I want is to not feel so restless yet trapped.
all I want is to feel like me again.

lullabye

2008-09-23T17:42:00.000-07:00

kill me

not softly
not gently

with malice
with intention

don't listen to my cries
close your ears
cover my eyes

don't rock me
as my life pours out
don't brush my face
don't feel sad

take away my breath
and then walk away
and let me die

Continuing frustration...

2008-09-23T16:49:00.000-07:00

Droplets splatter on the page in front of me,
crimson obscures the vision of what is there.
I close my eyes and will away the pain
wishing, wanting, waiting, hoping...disappointed.
My mind is a chaotic mess of reason,
thoughts whirling and blowing out of comprehension;
my heart is scarred and broken on the ground,
emotions tightly coiled then suddenly free.
I want to run away, I want to hide.
I want to stand and fight, I want to be seen.
I have a vision of a mountain top where I stand and scream.
It overlooks an empty valley; so no one hears.
Where is my voice?
Where is my strength?
Why is it that every time I think I've found myself,
once again she's gone in the blink of an eye?

Changing Forward

2008-09-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

Everything is changing on me again. And I have no control again. This is what I always ask for...to spiral out of control. But it's so hard to not be able to have any direction, to just blindly follow what is laid out in front of me.

I've spent the last two days laying in bed doing absolutely nothing. I know, pathetic. But sometimes totally necessary. When I finally got out of bed this afternoon to go and get a coffee and read my book (all about Paracelsus and Renaissance science and "magic"...fascinating), I found myself strangely inspired. And that is what I've been looking for in the past weeks.

At the very least I'm writing. It may be sporadic, but it is consistently the same project. And I am making progress and that makes me very excited. It's a work in progress, but it's good...damn good. The characters are speaking to me. Finally, a constructive use for those voices in my head...

Forward in Truth

2008-09-14T21:40:00.000-07:00

Thank you for your silence,
it has helped quell the noise
that exists always in my head,
which, among other things,
surrounds me with questions
of the us that never existed.

The voices whispered advice,
correct but difficult to admit;
sometimes a mystery
is simply meant to be a mystery.

That wispy fog is lifting;
Freedom, my inspiration,
is lifting her head,
giving me her hand
to help me forward once again.

I have no guide,
save Fear,
whispering doubts into my ear...
what if you fail?
what if you succeed?

But Curiosity stands beside me,
my constant, sometimes rash, companion,
he who wishes to be my champion,
propelling me toward the future.

I have only to hope
that Courage will also walk with me
for it is him whose help I need most.

why won't it stop?

2008-09-13T00:46:00.000-07:00

in the night, in the day
surrounded by a blanket of others
cuddled into fuzzy warm comfort
oblivion found outside of my mind

but when i am alone
emptiness closes, tightens, darkens
and the cold seeps into my bones
tumbling and turning in my head

can't say goodbye, can't let go
tired of holding on
arms shaking, muscles straining
stubbornly refuse to relax

well worn groove in the ground
from running the same track
paths branch and whisper off
only to return to the same circle

The Past

2008-09-04T19:17:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I keep getting caught in these patterns and cycles where I can't let go of the past. Perhaps it holds some sort of comfort for me to not have to move forwards to a place where I fear to go. I think I'm terrified of success and getting what I want. And I think that's pretty fucked up.

Some insight came from a friend recently when she said that I'm looking for something that isn't there and trying to hold onto things by looking too much into them. She said that it's affecting my ability to move forwards in life. It's true and she's right. Some things are just meant to be a mystery.

Doors close, doors open. But unless we allow them to close, we are forever seduced and beckoned back to places where we are no longer meant to exist. So, here's to the future once again. I hope I'm strong enough to leave the past behind this time and to actually move forward towards my success and my future.

Aching to Pace

2008-09-01T00:58:00.001-07:00

a familiar restlessness
creeps into focus
on the periphery
of my consciousness
edging it's way into existence
slowly slyly shifting
it draws near, draws nigh
frustrating in it's insistence
exciting in it's promise
mysterious in it's intent
curious in it's purpose

that feeling
once cured with idle wantonness
and lustful pursuits
now merely uncurable restlessness
frustrated boredom
where do i go from here
so tired of saying i don't know

Released

2008-08-26T18:35:00.001-07:00

in my mind,
in my heart,
i have made peace with you

a once familiar presence
a twin of the soul
an unintentional inspiration

from beyond, the call is heralded
souls entwined for eternity
wished for or not, it is truth

rash words, rash judgments
fits of passion, jumps to anger
all due to lack of comprehension

now, understanding dawns
and you have been released
continue your search for destiny

but one question remains in my heart
why did you refuse to look into my eyes
what were you afraid you would see

Merely Musings

2008-08-26T18:26:00.000-07:00

For me, writing is akin to breathing. I can stop anytime I want...for short periods of time...but while I live it is something I must do, something I do naturally and without thinking.

I've had this phrase swirling around my brain for years now and had intended to get it translated into Gaelic and have it tattooed. But for some reason I never did that. I realize now why that was. It's because it was incomplete. And because Gaelic is the wrong language to use...I should use English. The now-completed phrase? "On the journey of life, follow your heart - dance to it's music, heed it's wisdom, be comforted by it's love."

People spend their lives in search of a treasure that exists within them every moment of every day.

My destiny is a montage of images in front of my eyes, made up of my experiences and insights. A film that only I can see, omens that only I can interpret.

The creation of perfection eludes me.
Until I realize that it is folly
to attempt to create perfection
in an imperfect world.
Imperfection is, in itself,
beautifully perfect.

Give Me Your Hand

2008-08-26T18:25:00.000-07:00

Lost soul, tentative soul
traversing the edges of the universe,
pacing at the shoreline,
toe testing the temperature of the deeps
before you cannonball in.
The water may sometimes be rough;
it may not always be warm;
but there is always something happening.
Don't miss out,
have courage,
take a chance.
Dive in!

In my Dreams

2008-08-21T00:21:00.000-07:00

In my dreams I delude myself.
In my dreams you are there.
We meet and embrace,
we speak and share and laugh.
In my dreams I watch you as you create
and your words and images are of me.
In my dreams you inspire me
and my creation flows effortlessly from within.
We touch one another,
body, mind and soul,
electrified so deeply it defies words,
simple and ecstatic, wild and free.
But it must be in my dreams
for I know you not and I awake alone.
In my dreams you are there,
and I no longer want to sleep.

Ahhh, film...

2008-08-20T19:00:00.001-07:00

Just saw "Vicky Christina Barcelona", Woody Allen's new movie. Genius, shear genius. What struck me the most is how Christina's ideas about life and love parallel my own. How her struggle to express herself parallels my own. And the line in the movie that resonated the most with me? "I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want." Powerful and moving. I can't even describe how haunting and disturbing it is to go and see a film by a renowned director and writer, a person who I've never met, only to realize half-way through that his character is basically living my struggles and confusion with life.

Simply

2008-08-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

Why do I feel so helpless,
like I'm lost in a dream?
I live a life of privilege,
but not by Western means.
Should I feel guilt
or overwhelming despair?
How do I move forward
when I don't know how to get there?
I'm such a tortured anguished soul
until reality rears her head.
And then I'm merely thankful,
for benevolence,
food in my belly, a roof over my head.

War-torn

2008-08-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

I have no more tears to shed
I'm so tired of crying
yet the liquid still glistens wetly
trickling from eyes that do not wish to see
yet will not allow themselves to close

The solution to grief, to pain, to fear?

One man's justice is another's injustice
One man's horror is another's reality

The beautiful fragility of life, of humanity,
violently torn to shreds on a whim.

Drip, drip, drip

2008-08-19T02:11:00.000-07:00

black diamonds glisten wetly
paving the road this endless night
my mind a hazy fog, walking along,
blinded by my uncertain nature
the comfort of a familiar haven
unfamiliar on this night
my passion is draining down
the irresistible whirlpool of disillusionment
my demise, my reprise

Hiatus? Who am I kidding?

2008-08-19T02:08:00.000-07:00

I don't want to wander through life
holding onto a past that never was,
ghosts amidst the shadows, flickers of light,
hopes and fears, whispered regrets,
only to wake up one dark day
and realize it was all wasted.

The balance between hope and dream,
myth and reality is tenuous.
The muse I never asked for, unwanted,
lives on and on, silently scratching in my mind,
playfully stoking the fires of my creativity.
The one glorious genius constant
in my inconsistent existence.

My Hiatus

2008-08-01T00:27:00.001-07:00

Well, I don't know if anyone actually tunes in here to read this on a regular basis or not. I know I've given the address out to a lot of people, but I don't know if they actually like my work enough (or care enough) to be curious about what I'm writing and check back. At any rate, for those who may read this and wonder what has happened...I'm taking a break. Among other things, I'm trying to make some positive life changes that take me out of virtual worlds and put me back into the real world. I want to feel alive again and that's not going to happen if I continue to hide in the dark and dwell in the past. I realize that I've been somewhat psychologically damaged and that has manifested itself in some rather harmful and unhealthy ways.

So, I'm working on a very large and extremely ambitious creative writing project that will require me to create 14 characters. It's huge, it's a monster in fact. But I think that it will bring me closer to being the person that I want to be and force me to explore new ideas and psychologies.

And I'm also looking for new inspirations for my poetry. I've had a muse for quite some time who has inspired a lot of the works on this page, whether that person realized it or not. Reading back, I realize that I've been caught in a bit of a loop (and not a very good one). Time to let go and move forward in life and in my work. The best way to do that is to get back out into this wonderful world. I've allowed myself to let so much of my past fall away in the last two weeks and I'm looking forward to feeling even lighter as I allow myself to let go of more things and people in my past. I hope I'll have more to write soon because I do love posting on this page, but for now I bid the cyber world a fond adieu.

Inebriated Musings

2008-07-22T21:41:00.000-07:00

There are so many names in history whose greatness or infamy has been recorded over and over in the record of the ages. There are so many who are celebrated or decried for their actions or dis-actions throughout their lives and throughout the years. We, the many, are small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We are but aphids in the beauty and enormity of the canopy of the ethos. But to us, the world revolves and turns, begins and begets again. To us, the small and insignificant events that shape our lives are real, tragic, beautiful beyond belief, and earthshattering realities. Life is a matter of perspective. It is the same for those who are celebrated or decried...their lives were their own, but made public by the masses.

There is beauty in insignificant events because each and every one belongs to a heart and is remembered by a soul. These events shape our lives, they shape our destinies, and as such, they contribute to the whole and the history of our species. They become significant in their insignificance.

We are all beautiful and significant in our own way. Without the little people, there would be no big people, no role models, no heroes. Without fantasy and dream, there would be no reality. Without pain there would be no joy. Without hate there would be no love.

And isn't that what makes life worth living in the end?

For M, the Aftermath, the Recovery

2008-07-19T10:05:00.000-07:00

I think you're truly gone. And that makes me very sad.

But in knowing that, perhaps I will be able to allow your memory to become a shadow in the past rather than a ghost haunting my present. I fell for it all, hook, line, and sinker. I get it now. The games you play, but I still don't understand why.

What will be, will be. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong person? Perhaps we will never know. My heart bleeds letters as my eyes leak two tears that trickle down a face contorted in sorrow. The pieces will fall, I will sweep them up, and they will be reassembled once again. The cycle of life, the patterns that repeat. I'm sorry and yet I'm not. Fate is a funny thing.

Peace and love to your soul. I will miss it. Until these souls meet again one day, as they will.

Warm Caramel (S. B.)

2008-07-18T23:15:00.000-07:00

magical moments
beneath blue sunny skies
time freezes
something in your eyes
private moments in public
your hands on my skin
calm oblivion surrounds us
giggling shuts out the din
a day filled with laughter
many moments of fun
a day to remember
courtesy of the sun
you have entered my life
your soul has brushed my heart
i read kindness and goodness
good place for friends to start

Choices

2008-07-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

What do you do when you finally realize that a choice that was once ripped away from you is now yours to make again? I remember being a child and knowing that one day I wanted to raise my own children. Then I got married and a week before the wedding was informed that my husband-to-be did not ever want to have children. I thought, OK, no big deal, but secretly I was crushed. Then I thought, oh well, I can adopt. He told me he didn't want to adopt either. I thought he might change his mind until the day he elected to have a vasectomy. No changing that. And really, his body, his choice. I coped, I overcame, and over the years I managed to convince myself that I didn't want to have children. I lived with that belief for four years. Following my divorce I suddenly realized one day that the choice was mine again.

When you realize that you have a choice again, that your body is your own again, the emotion is overwhelming. To my chagrin I realized that the idea that I did not want to have children had been a coping mechanism and a way for me to block what I truly thought about the notion. I have a choice again. I have my freedom back.

It's like being reborn.

I don't know what the future holds for me. To be honest, I'm quite intimidated and a little scared. But I'm also looking forward to it and ready to embrace it fully. I don't know if I will have children or not. And if they come into my life whether they will be my own or someone else's. What I do know is that the choice is mine and my path is my own.

I would rather be dead than give that up again.

Ink

2008-07-18T23:03:00.000-07:00

Ink
Dancing across my skin
Indelibly

Hope Eternal

2008-07-18T12:24:00.001-07:00

I hold the hand of hope,
clutching for dear life.
She never disappoints.

Dreamer

2008-07-18T12:23:00.000-07:00

If we are so enamored with our dreams and possiblities,
why don't we try harder to manifest that in real life?

Blinded

2008-07-18T12:22:00.000-07:00

Following a slice of light out of the darkness,
she lifts her head and realizes
the only reason why it was dark
is because her eyes were closed.
She had blinded herself.
It is easy to become lost
when you refuse to see.

Subconsious Haunting

2008-07-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

like a whispered voice in the darkness
like a ghost in a dream
i wonder where you are
i wonder what you think

An Audience of One

2008-07-12T14:59:00.001-07:00

Ofttimes I wonder
are you out there somewhere
reading the words that I write?
Do you know they are about you?
Do you know that you inspire me
to half awake dreaminess
in muddled fuzzy realities
even in your absence, your silence?
A muse is a strange thing.
Unwanted, unasked for,
but needed and welcome,
despite the circumstances.

Inside

2008-07-12T14:57:00.000-07:00

From the outside
she appears calm;
from the outside
she appears strong.
Beneath the surface lingers
tempestuous maelstrom,
whirlwind of emotion,
deluge of tears,
thunderclap of frustration,
threatening at any moment
to explode into tiny bits.
A mass of confetti
littering the barren carpet
of earthly delight.
That is this life.

Waking Dreams

2008-07-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

I'm tumbling and falling darkly into oblivion's well;
I fear I need pain's aide to be pulled back from the edge.
The rhythmic pounding of blood in my brain;
the wings of black alabaster buffeting wind in my face.

Familiar stranger, ghost in my mind,
lately I've seen your face in my dreams.
'Tis passing strange for I've always dreamed,
though a face has ne'er appeared through the fog.
Was it your soul calling out to me,
or am I simple and crazy?
My restless wandering spirit projecting
to ease my alone and lonely feeling.

What is the might-have-been,
what is the might-still-be?
It is the familiar, that I always return to;
yet 'tis still strange for it is unknown.

It is bodies melting together like molten glass,
dancing and flowing in the passionate flame.
It is the spark of sweet hot breath
when lips almost touch, softly brush.
It is the comfort of a warm down quilt
wrapped around me on a cold winter night.
It is the trickle of a bead of salty sweat
slowly coursing down a warm supple spine.

Zombies

2008-07-06T04:11:00.001-07:00

the drones drift by
tip-toe, tick tock
faceless, mindless
their voices in my head
pounding, voiceless

Shades of Grey

2008-07-06T04:09:00.000-07:00

the harbingers of change blow
on a day grey with anticipation

my muse haunted my dreams last night
fanciful false images of a future
that might-have-been, might-still-be

hope eludes as sleep did last night

my barren life stretching before me
endlessness in sight

Perceptions

2008-07-01T13:34:00.000-07:00

My eyes, they shine so bright today
in this room of my mind with a view.
'Tis merely within my own mind's eye,
but perception and heart they shine through.
A grizzled old man sits down beside me
chain smoking, and harshly coughing.
All others around pretend he's invisible
yet for some reason his soul calls to me.
What would it be like wonders my mind
to live in his invisible world?
Existing and living and breathing always
whilst all deny you are there in their eyes.
The passers-by they don't stop and stare,
merely spare an uncomfortable glance.
He sits and chain smokes coughing harshly,
a dignified king on a throne in his world.

Ritual Comfort

2008-06-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

Struggling to breathe,
sitting in uncomfortable sanctity.
Burning incense singes my mind.
Take me away on wings of black alabaster,
knees bent in worship of a different kind.
Within a temple of comfortable ritual dreams.

Closed

2008-06-20T23:17:00.001-07:00

The slow trickle.
The terrifying burn.
The ebb and flow of lives lived,
lives lost,
lives yet to be.
For a brief time
I've closed my eyes,
my heart,
my mind.
The pain is too sharp
to be open right now.

Searching

2008-06-20T23:16:00.001-07:00

ebony and alabaster
flare of smoke, stench of oily flame
the candle flickers, dance of light
divine inspiration
lost in the blink of an eye
through fields of mirth
and back again
seeking muses amidst the pain

Reaper

2008-06-20T23:15:00.000-07:00

rustle of feathers as
night's air rushes past
raven's call beckons

In Memory, Henry Young (1929-2008)

2008-06-20T23:13:00.000-07:00

Life, racing past.
Moments in time,
lived, brushed over.
Time is elusive
running away with
fleeting memories
day by day.
The hours turn into months,
months to years.
Time slows to a crawl,
suddenly interrupted.
Life ticks to a standstill.
The peace that eluded
his restless spirit
here on earth,
in this life,
granted in abundance.
Eternal peaceful rest.
He was loved.
He will be missed.
He lives on in all of us,
fleeting memories,
day by day.
Eternal peaceful rest.

Fallen Angel

2008-06-13T00:46:00.001-07:00

fallen angel,
having tumbled out of the heavens
snowy white, downy feathered wings
tattered and torn, shredded,
singed by the hellfires
that cushioned your fall
speak to me oh muse of my dreams
'tis not me who chose you
but fate eternal that drew us
unsuspecting, unwilling souls together
we are moths drawn too near a flame
heat that sustains
heat that burns
our goal remains the same oh phoenix
that your wings will sprout anew
and that you will fly from the ashes
a new beginning to a circuitous life

Dawn

2008-06-13T00:44:00.001-07:00

Gauzy floating mist,
shifting, shimmering.
She floats,
she hovers, she glides,
flitting in and out of hazy focus.
Hurry!
Catch her, find her!
The sun rises soon,
the mists burn off,
and she will be gone
faded into nothingness.
For 'tis in the early morning
near-darkness, near-lightness
that she exists,
that she survives.

2008-06-10T00:25:00.001-07:00

What I shared with you was not a game. It was not something told or shared lightly. It was not something that I share with just anyone. I trusted you. I was completely honest with you. You lied to me. And in my mind, that is betrayal on an undeniably deep level. Trust and honesty are two of the most important things to me in this life. That is why my reaction was so strong, so bitter, so angry. I don't know if we will ever meet again. I believe that we will, I believe that this is not over. I don't know how I feel about that.

Reluctance

2008-06-09T23:58:00.000-07:00

you are the embodiment
of arrogance
cold, unfeeling, darkness

i challenge you
in my subtle way
scream at you
in the recesses of my mind

you hide in darkness
you slither back to your comfort
fiery dankness

though i've not won and won't
whilst you hold the puppet strings
sorcerer, you still remain
my inspiration, my muse

somehow captured a piece of me
and your spell won't let go
tied, entwined, can't let go, forever

i read of the past and i weep
whilst i dream romanticized visions
of what might have been
and mayhap never shall be

but no matter my soul's cost
no matter my heart's time
always i return in my mind

to forget would be divine and terrible
moving on a blessing, yet a sin
and still, across all the sands of time
you merely have but to call

'tis as if some sorcery has bound me
fettered and chained still at that altar
straining against invisible bonds

your call trumpets across time and space
i hear it whether you intend or no
our souls are welded somehow
not something i want, but something i know

Regret, pure and simple

2008-06-09T22:57:00.000-07:00

fragile heart
like rice paper
easily torn
tears falling
keep them away
sweet regret
beautiful sadness
poignant tears
unrequited love
missed connection
time, time, time
passes cruelly
life continues
regret remains

The Spark

2008-06-09T22:17:00.000-07:00

Fireflies
exploding in my brain.
Flashes of creativity,
flashes of light.
Clarity.
Foggy on a rainy day,
stuck in the mist,
moving forwards
without moving.

split focus
shifting consciousness
dualities

2008-06-09T22:14:00.000-07:00

I was reading a book some time ago..."The Forge and the Crucible". Contained within was a pictograph with the caption "The Dragon and the Woman destroy one another and cover themselves with blood." Why does this call to me? Why does it intrigue me so?

Dreamy Destiny

2008-06-03T20:04:00.000-07:00

I am the ice queen,
standing stiffly motionless
in a garden of winter roses.
Their subtle scent a sweet perfume
tickling the senses
as I breathe crystal and snow.

A Love Yet to Be Known

2008-05-29T23:00:00.000-07:00

Where are you tonight?
Looking up at the stars from underneath
the great black sea of sky,
I imagine you up on a hill behind me.
Looking down on me.
Your spirit playfully flies on the wind,
ruffling my hair with your breath,
wrapping me in your warmth.
Though I cannot see you,
I spread my arms to embrace you.
I close my eyes and smile,
feeling you near me always.
My familiar stranger, twin of my soul.
Watching over me from afar,
feeling you ever near, but never near.

On Writing

2008-05-29T22:58:00.001-07:00

S0metimes my words fly away from me, unheeded, unshepherded, completely free and unknown. My pen merely moving across the page, or fingers flying across the keyboard, unconscious of the next letter until it is formed. It is at these times that I feel a woman possessed. It is at these times that I feel most free.

Mine

2008-05-29T22:51:00.000-07:00

Bent my heart around someone else,
bent my mind around your ideals,
bent my life around what you wanted,
and now I've broken free.
My life is now my own,
my heart is for whomever I wish.
No longer is it your business
what or who I chose to do...

Awakening

2008-05-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

Wind rushing past her ears,
she falls towards the earth,
arms spread wide,
eyes closed against the dizzying height.
Her heart and mind are open,
poised, ready.

The weary traveller, finally,
opens her eyes,
blinking in the harsh light,
squinting, eyes watering.
She stretches her limbs,
shakes her head.
Realizes that the wind cushions her fall.
As she hurtles earthward,
her eyes focus.

And after a seemingly eternal
fear-imposed slumber,
she AWAKENS!

She has long been avoiding this free-fall,
for she knows the way will not be easy.
Courage, perseverance,
conviction, strength unwavering
are her weapons.

She is up for the challenge.

The Story of Submission

2008-05-29T22:46:00.001-07:00

I will submit to you,
sweetly, sexually, sensually,
with abandon,
with joy even.
But never will you be
master of my life.

Raven

2008-05-29T22:45:00.001-07:00

The darkness that resides within my soul
beats glorious dark wings of heavenly madness.
The oblivion I seek resides within my mind
where the darkness and madness exist in abundance
and where lust, love, and joy merge into one whole.
Revelry and abandon.

Numb

2008-05-24T01:27:00.000-07:00

Everything is so simple in the dark,
when I'm banging my head rhythmically
against a cold concrete wall,
and it doesn't even hurt anymore
that you abandoned me and are gone.
And I'm numb to all feeling
and can't feel the pain
of a love that was there, embraced
yet I pushed it away;
of a love that wasn't, won't be
yet haunts me still anyway;
of a love that I asked for, wished for
yet in the light it went away.
And in the darkness I sit here alone
bruises all over a body battered and worn,
invisible to the eye, yet they exist.
And still here I sit, rocking and cold,
skull a battering ram against unyielding stone.

2008-05-18T19:17:00.000-07:00

In the hussle and bussle
of a downtown inner city park,
the trees spread their arms
in magnificence,
drawing a cloak of leaves
close around them to shade
their bountiful roots.
Silence and peace amidst the chaos.
Another world that defies time.
Slow down.

T.S.F.

2008-05-18T19:08:00.000-07:00

In the passionate heat of summer
I sit and shyly ponder the memory
of a magically mundane day
made special by the presence of you.
The sandy shores conformed uniquely
as we sat and contemplated youth.
Shared thoughts made memories as
the salt air caressed our skin.
Magestic oaks spread above us,
bees buzzing about their business,
the sun shining approvingly on all,
a slippery seal curiously stares.
Laughter golden in our eyes,
the surf reflecting our shared mirth,
a symphony of sounds and silence,
our hearts open and alive.
A single moment in time, forever,
a piece of my treasure gifted to you.

2008-05-13T20:42:00.000-07:00

Tonight I sit in thoughtful ponder. And the words won't come. I'm open, I'm here. I'm waiting for something, though I'm not sure what it is. My life continues and I feel that I am not at the driver's wheel, but merely a passenger being pulled along behind, the path already chosen. I'm tired. I'm weary.

I tire of the dance, I tire of the game. I'm done. Bored. Sick.

Someone help me? I feel as if I need help to live...

Explosive Frustration

2008-05-08T18:13:00.000-07:00

Sitting in a coffee shop today (yes, I do this far too often), my mind turns to thoughts of circumstance. It is interesting how difficulties in life cause different people to react in different ways. For me, the tough circumstances that have arisen in the past caused me to first become hardened and callous. Not so much anymore. Yes, I've a tough exterior, but I've also rediscovered the soft core. 'Tis a delicate balance. The dominant element is fire (the passionate), but it is tempered with a secondary strength of earth (the nurturer).

For others, a defeatist mentality ensues. This I find exceedingly frustrating. For how do you expect to get what you want in life if you lay down and die? How can you reach your goals if you do not stand up for yourself and for what you want and go and get it? Though I suppose that all's fair and that I shan't judge, particularly when I'm not always privy to the entire story. I just want what is best for all of those who have entered my life, even after they leave. I just want to help ease the burdens of others and I guess I find it frustrating when I'm not allowed in. Gee, control issues much? The fire in my soul laments when others lay down and let their flames become a mere flicker, particularly when I know the potential of those souls.

Perhaps it is a process. Patience used to be a virtue which I possessed. Seems that I'm not so patient anymore. With all I've learned and with all the time I've wasted, I wish for others that they could learn from my mistakes. But sometimes it is not meant to be. And sometimes it is. I am open to the whims of the universe. Let it send what it will. I will take the lessons with gratitude. Though as happy and joyful as my soul has been, I think there will always be a hint of sadness at the core of me. It resides there beside that hint of white hot blood red rage. Surrounded by love, acceptance, gratitude, forgiveness, empathy, and compassion. Oh yeah, and pride...always the pride.

Baited with Bated Breath

2008-05-08T14:23:00.000-07:00

A hand hangs, extended in the air,
grasping nothing but what is there,
nothing;
held up by nothing but willfulness.
You seemed to shun even the most innocent
gesture of friendship,
and made it more than it was:
false promises, disproportionate fantasies.

Why do you mock me?
Your gesture of decency shrouded in mystery.
'Tis more than happenstance
was your crude claim, your refrain.
You shove me away,
then invade my world again.
Why do you hide?
Why do you run?

A hand hangs, extended into the balance.
No need to be tentative anymore,
no need for caution, for cloak and dagger.
The time for daring is at hand.
Actors on a stage are we all,
and thus thy time is at hand.
Unmask thyself dear heart, dear soul --
first to thyself, and then to the world.

This complex and complicated dance continues,
though I'd almost rather it wouldn't.
It seems that 'tis in fact more than happenstance.
You leading, whilst I tumble and stumble,
pulled along in the wake of the unknown.
I'm tired of trying to dance unknowing and blind.
And so, I break away to dance alone,
though I look back with a wink and a smile.

This is the last of it,
this is all that I have left.
My endurance is not what it once was.
My desire is fading into the mists.
Master of the game, master of the dance,
I bow to you, this round you win.
Enjoy your old world, whatever oblivion you find.
'Till divergent paths may converge once again.

A Room For A Night

2008-04-30T21:33:00.000-07:00

She has just showered. Literally scrubbed herself almost raw in an effort to be as clean as possible. Why is it that she never feels clean anymore? She washed her hair three times before using the luxurious deep conditioner, leaving it on for longer than usual to ensure that her hair would be exceedingly soft.

She toweled dry, almost dry, using a pristinely white, fluffy towel and then stepped out of the shower onto the floor of the spotless hotel bathroom. She tossed the towel into the tub behind her and grabbed a fresh towel, wrapping her hair turban-like. She assumed the level of cleanliness in this place would far surpass those of others due to the exorbitant nightly fee. She padded naked into the hotel room, luxuriating in the feeling of cleanliness and warmth.

She had searched for a long time to find a place that fully met her requirements. It is rather difficult to find a hotel with white decor. But she wanted white: white towels, white linens, white duvet. White, white, white. Not so much a color as a lack of color. And clean. Cleanliness was critical.

She wandered over to her bag, removing candles. White, vanilla scented candles. Twenty of them, one for each of her years of life. She placed them around the room, lighting each one reverently, delighting in the heady warmth and scent arising from them. Finished with this task, she removed the rugs from her bag and placed one on each side of the king bed in the room. Moroccan crimson rugs, the contrast striking in the colorless room. Satisfied, she smiled and placed the last item from her bag in the center of the bed and turned off the lights, candlelight creating a warm, inviting glow.

She removed the towel from her hair, mostly dry now, and walked back over to the bathroom doorway, tossing the towel into the tub to join its mate. Her long raven hair draped damply down her back, caressing her scrubbed skin. Padding over to the bed, she luxuriated in the thick pile of the carpet underneath her feet. Oh, the joy of this night. Finally.

She arranged herself cross-legged in the center of the huge bed and opened the case she had placed there earlier. Removing the contents, she reflected momentarily. Such a shame really, she thought as she examined the brand new straight razor in the soft glow of candlelight. Such a waste of white and clean. But ultimately, ridiculously poetic.

Crimson on white.

Enough is enough.

2008-04-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

A rope tightens around me,
dissenters dance lightly,
wildly,
turning, twisting, tightening,
needling, whining, annoying.
Some turn their backs,
some step back to consider,
some stare in horror.
In the middle,
wind whipping at my hair,
restraints tightening around me,
I stand.
Coiled tension within my muscles,
power coursing through me
connecting me from ground to sky.
They do not see,
they do not look.

ENOUGH!!

Finally, I snap.

With my last breath,
I inhale.
I gather all my power.
And then I let it all go.
I open my mouth to scream,
to bellow, to holler.
And miraculously,
my voice has finally returned.

ROAR!!!!!

Insanity

2008-04-15T20:35:00.000-07:00

Conversations with myself...or with the voices in my head. These happen often and increasingly so lately.

I am increasingly aware of how outside of the mainstream consciousness that I exist. Does this denote madness or awakeness? I fear I walk a fine line of balance between sanity and madness, that I am walking a tenuous path. Why do I cling to sanity? It is merely defined by the mainstream and by those who seek to be 'normal'. It seems that madness would be a relief, a natural progression of things. That this would be an excuse for me to exist as I wish, to "Do what thou wilt" as I would already be judged as 'that crazy girl' and therefore my actions would no longer cause any type of surprise to those around me. Why do I care, I don't care...I cease caring. And yet, the duality within me, the everpresent existence cares; this I cannot deny though I seek to. I don't care, I do care, I don't care, I do care...neverending beating in my skull, pounding in my head. My bright eyes view the world in a new light every day. What to do? Who knows what the future will bring. More knowledge, more knowledge. The quest is neverending.

I fear to let go, I fear to reveal the true me. I fear that she will be uncontained, uncontrolled, brilliant. I fear that she will run away with me, that the part of me that lets go will injure the part of me in control. That she will not want to relinquish the freedom that she will be afforded and that I will never exist again if she takes hold. Ironic that my greatest fear is to be caged and yet I fear also freedom, ironic that I cage myself and refuse to let go. That I cling to control with all limbs, that fear of freedom pervades my existence almost as much as fear of cages. Iron bars wrapped around my essence, welded to my very skeleton, my very being. No wonder it is so difficult to let myself out...I have entrenched them so fully into who I am.

And yet, let go I must. Time, time, time...I have time, eons, and yet I have none. It flows through my fingers, grasping fingers...trying to hold on, trying to let go. It slips, it slides, and yet there are so many lifetimes after this one. Why do we seek to rush and yet to hold on, to hold back? We are such paradoxical beings. The sands flow, they ebb, they flow....

Perspectives

2008-04-15T20:33:00.000-07:00

My perspective is a mask of sanity.
My sanity is a mask of perspective.
Yours, pushed upon me, forced upon me,
for your own selfish comfort.
Oh sure, I appear stable,
but push any button,
the facade cracks and light bursts forth.
Veils drop, stone walls explode.
My true face is revealed.
And I become
the stuff of your nightmares.

Reflections on wholeness of self.

2008-04-15T19:36:00.000-07:00

I took a mini-hiatus from a part of myself recently in the form of a vow of celibacy. Curious how sometimes we must take a break from a part of ourself to realize how intrinsically important that part of ourself is. All these pieces that we are composed of. To deny any of them is to deny who we are, and that in itself is to encourage a living death. My personal hell is to experience living death again...to cage myself.

There is nothing more terrifying to me than to deny my nature, to deny any part of my self, which is akin to erecting metal and steel bars around myself and welding myself within them. Nothing is more terrifying to me than that living death, that trapped feeling, that inability to feel and to be. As such, I deny myself no longer...any part of me.

Walking the Knife's Edge

2008-04-15T19:28:00.000-07:00

on beating wings, the pounding inside my head
threatens to explode through my fragile skull

that which I do not know,
which I cannot remember,
sits in the eye of the maelstrom,
arms crossed, smug smile
on the face of the unnameable

surrounded by light, swirling madness,
calm darkness, intensely hazy

the light shines, the heat warms, passion inflames,
the birds chatter inanely and sweetly,
a heavenly gift

and I let go,
surrendering to my descent into the sweet oblivion
that is madness

where truth and lies merge and enmesh,
where reality and unreality become the same beast,
where the line between good and evil is muddied
and uncertain,
where light and darkness coexist,
where life and death are indescribable and inseparable

wait, is that madness,
insanity,
or is it merely the awakening

O Faithless Pride

2008-04-15T19:02:00.000-07:00

Painting a picture of beauty,
of hope, of wicked desire,
of wanton lust,
of duality fulfilled.
My other, twin of my nature,
keeper of my soul,
if such even exists.
Promises whispered of
truth and understanding.
And we, travellers both,
searching for knowledge,
for purpose,
insatiable,
unslakeable.
And 'tis a constant existing
restless and on sanity's edge.
Maniacal laughter bursts forth
from the bowels of hell
at the core of my soul.
This world knows us not,
welcomes us not.
Other worlds dare not.
And so we wander,
alone.
Our pride standing fast,
shadowing our destiny,
preventing our happiness.

Oh, humor...

2008-04-11T23:33:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been an interesting time of rediscovering myself and what I want. So I've gotten refocused again in the last few days and once again realized my calling towards the paths of truth, love, and spirituality. I've put my foot down in my life and rediscovered the desire to cut through the bullshit and I've started to search for the center of my spirituality, which includes gratitude, love, and blessings. Nice to know that I'm on the right path as I've read my horoscope today (for April 10th to 16th):

The Aries planets, the moon, and the stars are no barrier to thee. You thrive on the drama, and you may even create most of it. You could be of the mind to set off on your quest for truth, love, and spirituality. You should, as it is the only game in town worthy of your time and effort. Your odyssey will last forever, and you will lose and find yourself many times. April 13 and 14 are your best days this week.

Wholeness

2008-04-08T22:56:00.000-07:00

The serpent lies coiled,
resides at the root of me,
ropes of red light,
ready to strike.
But not in malice,
nor in evil.
Rather in knowledge,
light and truth,
enlightenment,
awakening.
Light begets light,
shining brightly,
moving upward,
interconnectivity.
Red brightens to orange,
brightens to yellow.
Glowing from the center,
radiating strength and power,
craving justice.
Breathe green rays of
compassion,
understanding, love,
washing over the whole of me.
Sing truths from a sky of blue,
radiating, vibrating throughout
this flesh that is a gift.
Darkening indigo intuitions
allow insights and perceptions
of the spirit of creativity
to flow ever upwards,
ever downwards, ever outwards.
Culmination at a crown of violets,
soft, connected, at one with all.
Searching for the light in all.
And the truth, the wholeness,
it is within us all;
it is light and darkness,
it is energy flowing through us,
flowing out of us.
Connecting us with each other,
with the earth, with the universe.
What a blessing are we.

Song Lyrics

2008-04-04T23:15:00.000-07:00

Normally I would not post other people's work on this blog as I prefer to use this for my original work. However, every time I hear this song it touches a chord within me and therefore I want to post it (I guess I'm also a little jealous that she wrote it as I relate so well to it with my life).

"Stronger Woman" -Jewel

I guess you could say
I'm one of those girls
That's always been with one of those guys
You know the type
Like right now
He sleeps while I write

But it's better than crying
I'm worn out from trying
From loving a man who always makes it clear
I'm not welcome here
Just when he's horny or hungry or needs something cleaned
You knwo what I mean
But not tonight
'Cause come the morning light, oh

I'm gonna love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me
Even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me

I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again,
Never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman
A stronger woman in me

Light bulbs buzz, I get up
And head to my drawer
I wish there was more
I could say
Another fairytale fades to gray

I've lived on hope
Like a child
Walking that mile
Faking that smile
All the while
Wishing my heart had wings
Well from now on, I'm gonna be
The kind of woman I'd want my daughter to be, oh

I'm gonna love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me
Even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me
I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again
Never, no
'Cause there's a stronger woman
A stronger woman in me

This is me, packing up my bags
And this is me, headed for the door
And this is me, the best you ever had

I'm gonna love myself
More than anyone else
Believe in me, even if someone can't see
The stronger woman in me

I'm gonna be my own best friend
Stick with me till the end
Won't lose myself again
No, no
Cause there's a stronger woman, a stronger woman
There's a stronger woman in me
A stronger woman in me
Stronger woman in me.

2008-04-03T19:57:00.001-07:00

Sweet research...I seek to know, to understand. But it seems for all that I learn, for all that I read, there is more...just out of reach, teasing, laughing.

Oh, the irony...

2008-04-03T19:53:00.001-07:00

He beckons, I answer.
Cocky, saucy, sassy
in my response.
Deliberate provocation.
And yet, it is natural
to bend, to bow gracefully;
to submit to his will.
For all my strength,
for all my control,
it is in sweet submission
that I find my freedom.

2008-04-02T22:37:00.000-07:00

i live in a world
betwixt and between
alive and awake
sometimes waking dreams
'tis when i feel dead
that i start to wonder
why i exist in a world
of unpeaceful slumber
and in those moments
when there is a perfect clear
my destiny calls out
another decision is near

Missed

2008-04-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

And tonight I laid here,
music on the radio tugging at my brain,
memories of you traversing my synapses.
Phantom arms wrap around me,
phantom lips kiss my face.
Remembering how you turned
the last time I saw you.
No smile, no wave, no words,
just goodbye.
And tonight I wondered,
did you ever cry?
Was moving on easy for you?
Did another replace me?
Do I ever cross your mind?
Do you miss our brief time?
I shed tears at the might-have-been.
Moving on has not been easy.
I'm still here, just me.
I think of you with a smile.
I wish it had been longer.

I will never forget you,
my heart will forever hold your memory,
I will forever love you.

'spection

2008-03-29T23:14:00.000-07:00

I marvel at perspective
twisted pontification
how memory alters with time

it amuses me to consider
how we deceive ourselves
and deny our truths
when they are dangled before us
cosmic carrots on spangled strings
quivering and shaking mirthfully
as though the gods themselves
quake with laughter
at our foolish naivety

how young are we
how inexperienced in many ways
so much to learn, so little time

Silence

2008-03-29T22:39:00.000-07:00

In the calm, still surrender,
I wonder.
Is this the aftermath,
or merely the beginning.
I arrive at this point often
as I twirl round and round
on the same axis.
Why do I fight
the natural gravitational pull?
Because it feels unnatural
of course!
Because it is in my nature
to resist the normal
in favor of the abnormal.

Unborn

2008-03-29T20:11:00.000-07:00

I've never met you,
and yet the strength of my love for you
bubbles up from a heretofore unknown
volcanic mountain spring within me
courses through my many splendored veins
to my open and abundant heart
and threatens to murder me
with it's wondrous explosiveness.
Possibility and wonder overwhelm
my conscious and unconsciousness
with the power and dynamic of that
which would seek to nurture me
and yet have cause to destroy me.
The mere thought of you and I
and who you can be for me and for you
and who I can be for you and for me
cause my senses to overload and my
precious and tenuous sanity to teeter
on the brink of insatiable insanity.
How is this even possible?