When I met her the first time it was in a sea of screaming lilies
Each one giving an ecstatic burst of jubilation as we moved through them
She gave me her hand and said her name was Hope.
She kissed the corners of my mouth, where the muscles hurt from smiling too much
I had her, for blessed eternity, this much she swore to me
And when an alarm clock woke me, I tried to rush to her side again, but found only dead weeds and whispers.

When I met her the second time she walked tall through nightmares
She grabbed my hand and our heads were held high as our blood painted the walls
She smiled at me sadly, and said her name was Rememberance.
She sighed in the voice of past lovers, and touched my cheek as only they might.
She was fleeting and her features faded as she melted into the crowd,
and when I woke, I wanted to scream but I didn’t look for her again.

When I met her the third time, she made her presence known with fire.
She gripped my throat, thrust her hand into my heart, and breathed in my manic laughter
Jealousy burned-out her eyes, lust tainted her lips and acrid anger coursed in her veins
She exsanguinated me, told me her name was Inspiration, and she flowed into me until
I thrashed and screamed
I woke from a fever dream, screamed and woke again.
She was fickle and distant and cursed beautiful madness.

When I met her the fourth time, she didn’t say a word.
She kissed each eyelid, with crystalline frost and made a hollow from my chest.
She laid me down for our last moments together and held me as I wept for eternity
She settled everything into weary monochromes and told me her name was Death.
Then she closed my eyes and destroyed the world.

When I woke again, I had lost her name, her face, her tone, her love.
And still I stare in crowds, searching for a dream

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Posted by admin - 24/05/10 - 0 comments

 

I wrote this one a while ago:

we dine on coming hope

Plates of broken promises fork scratch on hard life
Empty cups of dreams left pitcher spilled on table
Centerpiece shattered listless life gone stagnant and tepid
Left like leftovers for scrap dogmeat.
“Delicious Winter” they called it.

We make idle chat:
hoping for a white apocalypse
too soon to tell who was the culprit
young sadness in chaos paperback
breeding broken homes
surrender ourselves
empty ringfingers of divorced life

Remeniscant sea of self-discovery
Winds crest where the initial forgotten desire numbs
And reached the docking thought
Validate life’s kisss

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Posted by admin - 22/03/10 - 0 comments

 

I don’t remember our last

It wasn’t our first kiss, and neither exactly was it our last.
It was a parking lot Passion Play
and after arriving I leaned in for a kiss
and with a coy smile you deftly avoided me, edging out of the car and telling me to wait.

I’ve never been good at following directions.

I hit you with my best smiles, lines and rhymes hoping to taste that…
sweettumblingjumbleofeffervescentflavorsandfeelingemotionsand(void)electricity

whatever it is… when I press my lips to yours.

And you dart away again, your playful smile fading into a stubborn one, telling me again to wait.

Clearly you have some plan or ploy, to heighten my desire for your lips and it works.  One of those ridiculous arguments later, a short skirmish over love’s

less discussed lessons.

Thinking back i can’t decide if it’s ugly or beautiful that one of our last moments together was arguing about a kiss.

And then we fell into that happy stride, you had a coy, aloof little smile and gave me those telling, burning looks, letting me know to be patient.

And I haltingly, grudgingly, and notwantingly was patient.

I was patient as life happened.

I was patient as second thoughts happened.

I was patient when the phone call didn’t come.

I was patient when you told me love had faded.

I don’t remember the last time we smashed the universe into its component pieces and realigned the stars in a myopic collection of feelings and bright lights, the future blasted so far beyond that only brief spots on my retinas remind me that it was ever there at all.  And having that transcendent moment of self when the world slows and narrows to one, beautiful and tantalizing moment that seems to last forever yet has that horrible distant twinge that no matter how long we stay in a universe of dazed bliss at some point eyes will open and the moment will end, and a follow up kiss to remind my subconscious you haven’t gone far and heaven’s only so far away.

I remember kissing you but I don’t remember our last kiss.
I remember when you wouldn’t kiss me but wanted to.
I remember and hope I never forget
love’s less discussed lessons

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Posted by admin - 02/04/09 - 2 comments

 

I found some writing from my train trip from Los Angeles to Houston. Some of it is decidedly mediocre but one of the things I really liked. I still remember very vividly the scene I described.

 

I think this is as close as I’ll ever
feel to hurtling through space. I sit and
by the shaking and rocking of the train,
I am certain that I am in motion. And
occasionally there is a scream and a rush
outside, blackening and strobing the
occassional street light star.
The noises the passing train makes sound
much like a starfighter’s engines. But I
sit facing a window and looking out. I see
more of the inside of the train than anything else.
It’s beautiful. It’s an allegory for life.
Mankind in motion,
but for me it’s all blind. There’s no
headlights to illuminate where we’re headed.
Just the occassional burst of light and
me alone with my thoughts.

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Posted by admin - 13/02/09 - 0 comments

 

This is from a little while ago that I found while poking through my GoogleDocs. I think I wrote this when Captain America died and I had a bit of a realization but… I could just be confused ;P

Hunting for Innocence
It seems like such an incredible
thing to regain.
In a world of death, hate, and jealousy,
how can I rediscover innocence?

How do I recapture the wide-eyed wonder
Amazement now is a chuckle…
I have lost wonder. It was stolen from me

I can not say when exactly. But it
was an instant sudden slaying when in
a heartbeat I realised the lies around me.
The trick in a magic trick lost its magic.
Books were less like door ways to adventure,
and more like stories of adventure,
Love could be measured. Hatred was real.
Good did not always triumph.
And super-heroes vanished brutally from
existence.

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Posted by admin - 19/12/08 - 0 comments

 

I think there must be some correlation between how hard we sleep and how hard we fear death.

When life becomes too hard or stressful, and we are overburdened by its passing, we find ourselves laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in abject terror as nothing seems to relax the mind or calm the body.

Or when guilt and shame make us fear an end before we can right our wrongs, the whimper of the wind may seem a shrill scream determined to jerk the offender from their respite.

The hesitant tapping of a spring sprinkle smashes through the unconscious demanding attention and pulling those with a sense of duty, to awareness, eyes bolting open with shock.

The young and old, for different reasons, ignore the call. The young, too innocent to fear the inevitable end, sleep often soundlessly and restlessly, looking like Angels and fearing not their company.

The old, perhaps resigned or finished with their Earthly business, spend enough time awake, but when they finally sleep it is deep and unrelenting until they wake.

I am pleasured with the deep seated snoring that often startles those who sleep with me. I hope they are not too agitated by my confession of freedom. Unresisting the inevitable has shuffled off the cause for fear, and I gladly grind out my bravery each night, to the chagrin of those still staring at darkened doorways, and cringing at crickets.

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Posted by admin - 03/10/07 - 0 comments

 

“This is a wonderful country, but there are certain things here which are a corosion on the human soul”
“It is these things that make suicide, someone loses their job, then their car, then apartment. Pretty soon they are at a wall and it drives thousands to violence against themselves.”
“To 65% of the people this country is not heaven, but my son, he has not a worry in the world, and he helps me out but he can’t help with everything. For the other 35… 45% this is heaven”
“Even in this country everyone is a slave working to be even. It is the unlimited power of the landlord, the unlimited power of the supervisor…”
“Nothing is going to change”
“Nothing is going to change”

Having channeled the great minds of the past, preaching reform and social injustice. Being enslaved to a doctor to stay alive. He slips into quiet sleep, this strange messanger’s purpose served. He finally gets his rest

And while this small old man tells me the perils of modern life, she giggles and says she named her pet iguana vixen, because she is a vixen.

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Posted by admin - 25/09/07 - 0 comments

 

As my eyes fight off sleep and drearily attempt to focus on the cottage cheese ceiling, my ears are instantly assailed with a blaring paid advertisement. ”Not two hundred dollars, but 3 easy payments of sixty five dollars, will get you an incredible Mar Co. Food Dehydrator” I desperately grab for the remote in an attempt to damper this rude awakening. After everything has quieted down I let my head fall back onto the couch. My thoughts have to struggle to me against the dull ache in the center of my brain. I reach over and take a sip of water; I don’t trust much else to stay down. I lie on my couch on this docile Thursday and listen. Nothing. I cannot hear children playing, any birds singing, or people gardening. I glance in humor at the TV, where the muted salesmen flail their arms in a vain attempt to get me to call in. The only sound I hear is a soft, low pitched buzz, a strangely calming buzz, coming from my refrigerator. Then I hear a faint whimpering from across the room. I look up worriedly; my dog is lying on her bed, facing out at the overcast day. She is whimpering, and the muscles in her legs twitching. A dull, calming rain starts to drizzle on my patio, and I lay back down and a sigh escapes me. Dogs dreaming, a funny thing. “Quiet down Emma, I’ve got my own rabbits to catch.”

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Posted by admin - 08/06/06 - 0 comments