|If life is worth living then words are worth writing...|
They say follow your heart.
Satisfy it's desires.
Heed it's calls.
It will fulfill you.
My heart is a treacherous liar.
It knows my every failing.
My weakest parts.
My stumbling blocks.
It leads me to empty things.
I do not trust my heart.
I trust His heart.
I trust His plans.
His ways are perfect.
His thoughts are higher than mine.
I long for the day
When His heart and mine
Let every beat of my heart,
Be the sounding of a mighty drum
Calling all to worship.
Let every breath I take
Be the uttering of Your name,
Calling all to worship.
Let every word I speak,
Be the praising of Your goodness,
Calling all to worship.
Let my life,
God of Creation,
Be a symphony of praise,
Calling all to worship.
Each action a note
Each blink a rest
Each moment a movement
Calling all to worship.
Being with you would be perfect.
You have kind eyes.
The most beautiful smile.
And a heart that would make
the angels jealous.
You told me once
That you saw a future
With me in it.
You told me once
You just loved to hear me
You told me once
That I make you
You put me at ease.
I can breathe with you around me.
I can think.
I can feel.
I love that.
But you, my dear, dear friend.
Sweet sweet friend.
I just. I don't know what to do with you.
You are far away.
You are complicated.
You are brilliant.
You are impossible.
At least right now.
I'm a mess.
I'm closed off.
I'm not ready.
What am I supposed to do with you?
What am I supposed to do
My blood is a battlefield.
My cells are in conflict.
I am conquered and conqueror.
I am enslaved and free.
Wars rage in each heart beat.
Injustice perpetrated by my breath
Against my own people.
Neither place welcomes me.
Other in every way.
Those who oppressed are evil.
Those who are oppressed are wary.
My skin betrays my home.
My speech and eyes betray my passing.
My blood is a battlefield.
There is no safe haven behind either line.
I am caught in the crossfire.
I am wrecked by the fray.
Constantly defending my heart land
Constantly searching for my home land
Abandoned by both.
Some see me as friend.
Some see me as foe.
I am falling in love with the rain.
And it's falling over me.
Masking my tears.
The world is clean and new
After it falls
But I'm just wet.
I want to have clarity
I want to be clean
But this hasn't come out in the wash.
No matter how hard
They get brown around the edges
Love slips away
It gets quiet
The world turns
Indian Summers Lie
They are a burst of green
And that too passes
We were an Indian Summer
For Father saw
He will not condone your sins
Soon your lungs will not find air
Be wary friends
For Mother knows
She will not bear your weight
Soon your feet will not find ground
For Brother died,
He cannot ignore your failings
Soon your soul will not find hope
It is the begining of the end.
End of life itself.
End of time.
This only lasts for a moment,
Depending on what time your keeping.
Allow yourself to be swept up in the finite
Because never before
And never again
Will the world appear to you,
The way it will right now.
If that is bleak then let it be,
If that is beautiful let it be.
If that is empty, do not fill it
If that is crowded do not empty it.
We must no longer assume that these moments are transitions,
But believe that they are in fact the memories.
Sink in them, believe in them, remember them.
Never before and Never again,
These are rarities in this world.
The very essence of original experience ...
My Mother always said that when you fall in love, with man or woman; with friend or lover; you give a piece of your heart away.
Up until now I have cultivated the fine art of giving myself away, shaving bits and pieces to fit and make new pieces to fix what was broken and gone for them. What’s more I’m very very good at it.
Now, now I have to learn how to live with a piece of someone else’s heart. With their heart in my hand, I begged that he would let me give it back to him. I truly did, but unfortunately that is not how the game is played.
Now I am left alone, alone with a piece of a heart, a piece of my soul that does not fit in my own.
It sits heavy with me and I weep for your loss. I ...
Because You, dear Sir, are the most Honorable of men I must admit,
I kissed you, well in my mind. Last night. In my dream. How terrible is that?
The date was more than perfect, of course it wasn’t really you and it wasn’t really me but in a way it was the truest you and me so it doesn’t matter. We talked, we laughed, we were the amazing people that I always knew we could be and it had to happen after I threw it, US all away.
It had to happen in a dream. A STUPID DREAM! My, my stupid dream… A dream when I’m a million miles away and can’t see or speak or touch you to see how I feel and if you still feel or anything. So I sit and torture myself about “what could have been’s” and “Possibly’s” ...
If life were easy, writing wouldn't be.
Days would be happy, people would smile, I'd have a handsome boyfriend with a job, car, and a 4.0 gpa.
If life were easy divorce wouldn't be messy, siblings wouldn't fight and friends wouldn't be back stabbers.
If life was easy what would we write about?
We would have no messy breakups, no stories of unrequited love.
We would have to draw inspiration from happiness which as we all know is potent but fleeting.
Why do you think it is that some of our greatest inspiration comes from our greatest pain?
Why is it that anger is a better motivator than joy?
I can not say.
All I can say is that my pain will help,
if not me someone else and that is why...
You were the man I couldn't love. The person, perfect, that I couldn't ever grasp.
Why, of all the people, girls, beautiful girls in the world, why did you have to choose me? I am not a beautiful girl, I am not a wonderful mess of things and light and breathyness that draws men to them. I am a hurricane, I need to be avoided. And yet there you were, standing as if in awe of me.
The red dress was daring but that's how I felt, ready for anything. It was an adventure, an escapade that another girl would embark on. When I got home, when you drove me home and walked me to my door and said that the night was perfect, I was surprised because it was.
That was the only night you held me like I was r...
Or was it miles?
What a way to start,
A year of trials.
Alone an ocean.
Bring hope along,
Swim waves of emotion.
The cleanest break.
He stole my heart,
Make no mistake.
He was perfect,
I am broken.
Had to let,
Words be mispoken.
We didn't fit,
I had to quit,
My imperfect blessing.
Saved us both,
Or so they say.
So raise a toast,
To my dismay.
It wasn't love,
No, not Cupids.
It wasn't lust,
I'm not that stupid.
Terrible as that may be,
We'll stand together,
A love of another,
No hope for more.
Meant for each other,
Hand in hand, door by door.
How he ...
She walked past his door as she couldn't find the courage to knock...
He was too sure of everything.
She was certain.
Her fear of his perfection,
Left her petrified.
He too was terrified.
She'd walk to his door,
Eyes on the floor,
The call he'd waited for.
Looking for a way to begin again.
Lost in thought,
Passed his door without a glance.
Dooming herself to a life without romance. This was the perfect chance.
Little did she know,
He saw her looks and thought them passing.
Believed himself to be lacking,
While she was paising the floor.
Waited for her quiet voice,
To cleanse the world of all its noise.
While she was caught in the roar. ...
He pushes for my love,
With words that cut,
Yes they draw blood.
So I run,
For I know better than He,
Who lashes out so carelessly,
To hurt the ones he says he loves,
To hurt me.
Because, like father like daughter,
We both had to much to handle.
I ran to a mystery land of Asland,
And he struck the boards of the house.
Like father like daughter we love,
Though he loves money and I people.
He loves the things in his hands,
And I Love the things beyond physicality.
Yes money has his heart,
It tore him apart,
Now we are both incomplete.
And like father like daughter,
I hate those that oppress me,
Though he knows not how to love in any other way.
So I try to hate the thin...
The sea and I have an understanding,
Him and me.
The mischievous sea.
I sit next to him and listen to his murmurs,
And he keeps me company in my artistic fervor,
As I try to capture His enormity fruitlessly.
The better end of the deal goes to he,
Who won't sit politely,
For a portrait of his likeness.
So I travel to visit him daily,
And daily I must begin again,
My sketches of His beauty,
For, though is ever the amazing sight,
Is completely different than the other night.
I run to catch him in his change,
From silky black to a sunlit mountain range of water.
The ripples create a craggy face,
The foam a beard of white.
And though I try to catch his likeness,
He changes as I write!
Oh, when did I love you? All of you so special and different and not yet love...
Was it when we sat together in the quiet of the afternoon shade sharing hidden sweets and secrets with our eyes, only 7 years old? Almost getting caught with chocolates behind our backs and your hand in mine is something I'll never forget. Yes, I loved you then, with all my seven year old heart I loved you.
Was it when you left me to fly far away in an airplane forever? We would talk on the phone for hours because the sound of your voice kept you close. You'd lost your southern twang when you were down here, when you returned every soft syllable and Mississippi word took you from me, one more ste...
Let me fall apart as was intended.
I will break into a million pieces,
And leave one for each that I leave behind.
They will carry me and hold me close,
Until I become apart of them.
I live to love the unloved,
To hold those ostracized by others,
To remind the world,
That there is good in this dark place.
That life and love exist outside of prejudice.
I will follow the paths of all great trail-blazers,
And make my own way.
Who needs conformation,
When I have a destination,
Far above the fear of being found an abomination.
I am no monster,
But I am guilty of loving them.
At least, loving those that believe,
That they are the greatest evil in the world.
They do not know how mistaken th...
Lately I've been wondering about practicality.
Wondering about the use of reality.
Why stay up late,
Thinking about the first date,
When living without knowing makes so much more sense.
Lately I've been hoping for,
An open door,
Into the future Deep in wonder.
I find it stunning,
Mind over running with possibilities.
I fell in love with
Someone I must miss.
For the sake of being
Perfectly practical in leaving.
So why... Why bother with living,
When being real and practical
Ruins everything worth beginning.
I lost it all to the honest practicality...
Tell me darling,
And tell me sweetly,
Am I really so replaceable
That you can't keep me?
Tell me darling,
Please tell me Dear,
Is life with me in it,
Really something to fear for you?
Because dreaming about it,
Is all I seem to do...
Dear Lover of Wonderous Things,
Dear Magician of the Mundane,
Dear Ruler of Someones Heart,
Dear Living Breathing Soul,
Your friends will miss you,
The strangers on the street will notice your absence,
The beauty of the world will lack your notice and weep,
Cakes will go un-baked and floors un-swept.
The world needs those tiny miracles,
Your love will be over come with grief,
Would you cause them pain?
The world will miss the wieght of your boot and the grace of your soul,
Don't sink beneath the waves,
They need you far less than we.
Please Keep Floating
My Dearest Someone.
Why is being forgotten such a crime?
Why is living a simple life such a travesty?
Is making a quiet difference such a tragedy?
Are the history books really so grand?
A name memorized and then never thought of again?
Not so for me.
Love me deeply without apology,
Love me with the ferocity of a flame,
And then forget me when I'm gone.
For our children will do our remembering,
And theirs will remember them.
Lay me quietly in a field of green,
Knowing that they grew to know more than I ever did,
Are better off than we ever were,
And can love with the depth of the sea.
That they see poverty as opportunity to help those around them,
That they see pain as an opportunity to grow.
Let me slip ...
They told me to stop dreaming,
And I closed my ears.
They told me to be practical,
So I disappeared.
They told me to settle down,
As I touched the stars.
They told me to stay in this town,
But I've already gone so far...
Don't give away your happiness,
You have just begun.
All they can see is a mess,
But that's half the Fun.
Keep floating in the mystery,
Of what could have been.
You are making history,
And You'll find a Friend.
Sometimes perfect hearing,
Is such a blessed curse.
They've succeeded without feeling,
Tell me, Which is worse?
I may have struggled,
I may have died,
But the pain was worth the trouble,
At least I tried.
I'll live forever in the inbetween,
What is lost an...
Maybe I'm a little bit broken,
Maybe your a little bit scarred,
Maybe we shouldn't have been together,
In the back of your car.
Passing moonlit hours,
Watching the night go by,
Picking petals off flowers,
And cherishing every sigh.
Maybe she hurt your heart,
Like mine, beyond repair.
Your insides torn apart,
And you believed no one cared.
Perhaps those broken parts,
Fell off so that we could fit,
Like pieces of a heart,
Made to live, infinite.
So I may be a little broken,
And you ma be a little scarred,
But I consider them a token,
Of the love we fought for so hard.
We're not perfect,
Not even close,
But its was so much more than worth it,
Now that I'm with the one I love most.
There are no words to describe...
The laugh of a child,
The joy of a husband to be as his bride walks down the aisle,
The hues of the sky,
The things in life that you never tried...
But there are songs.
There are no words to explain...
The feeling of a goodnight kiss,
The pain of having someone to miss,
The flowers in spring, almost in bloom,
And a bride to be, waiting for June...
But there are poems.
There is no one word to describe,
The hearts of people living heavy with doubt,
The pain of those that do without,
The wonder found in a young girls eyes,
Or her dismay as youth passes her by...
But there are stories.
Because we are propelled by a life larger than we,
Think of her fondly...
The girl that was too much,
Loved too easily,
Worked too hard,
Laughed too loud,
Cried too often,
She is the one that the world takes for granted.
She stays behind,
When you go out dancing,
Stay home planning,
Skip work for romancing,
Walk on late without asking,
She smiles and forgives.
Don't think she doesn't wonder,
What it's like to live without worry,
How it feels to kiss without meaning,
How to forget the million things that need to be done,
How it would feel to leave the mess for you,
but she won't do any of those things.
So go out dancing, and planning, and romancing,
She loves your stories.
Enjoy your life,
As she does hers.
Think of her though, a...
I stared out at the ocean,
in another life.
As I examine the blue green swells and the stark white foam I wonder,
Does it have the answer to our purpose, our existence?
Does the ocean contemplate such things as it washes on the shore?
Hidden deep down in it's inky depths,
Or perhaps just below the surface
a clue waiting to be discovered?
The ocean, far wiser than I, will know.
I have stood here for a thousand years
And will stand here a thousand more
until I have discovered the secrets of the sea,
Or it accepts me as one of its own and I am swept under the surface,
Pulled by the current to my destiny...
Is trust elusive, or am I evasive?
Is love extinct, or do I just stink?
Is happiness alive and well? And if it is, then why am I in hell?
When did hope become a flaw and it acceptable to claw your way to the top?
It seems we'll never know what true contentment is...
The difference is not so hard to distinguish as one may think, between one loved and a lover.
To a lover, one of the many, with no commitment, your life is a rarely traveled story book with characters to enjoy, despise, and use for entertainment purposes.
To a lover the only thing real is your presence, on your date, in their house, on their bed, but none of the messy important bits that make up YOU matter.
To a loved one, however, they are there for the messy bits. To both share their own and ease the burden of yours.
They want your sorrows and joys, your days when your absolutely no fun at all and the days you spend giggling for no reason.
You are completely different, changing, brillia...
If only I weren't afraid to admit that your all I think about...
All I dream of.
That I hate when your not talking to me, that this achy feeling hits my heart and all I can think about is how your day is.
If only I weren't such a coward life could be different, so different.
And maybe, just maybe that different would turn into better. And that better could be our best in the future.
Then again, perhaps the pursuit of better distracts us from the good of today... Who knows, tomorrow could be the day I lay it all on the line!
Or maybe we could just talk some more.
I do so very much like the talking...
Yours ever doubtful,