The Golden White Chariot.

His chariot shined and glided around the bend as his memory followed slowly behind.

December's bitter cold couldn't hold down smiles as the vessel came to a standstill and his next of kin surrounded it.

Saturday's black night had reverberated stories of laughter and also pierced chests that had been burdened by grief.

His spirit had passed and the fellow charioteers assembled in a gesture of remembrance.

Each peer had knelt their Lions in complete silence as hundreds of breaths rose upward.

And in a great movement, each Feline roared into the heavens to echo the presence he had on this earth.

The Golden White Chariot stepped off and led in front but drew more than just dust from behind.

Just like it's own valiant beast, it drew those who had united in his celebration.

Every lion roared as they fell into His chariot's tracks.

Their destination was where he was called and it would be there where part of his honor remained.

And in a fleeting exhale, The Golden White Chariot rolled out of sight.

made it through

this moment. the happiness i feel
real.
genuine,
sincere.

moments like these,
rendering all the sacrifices worth it
struggles to hold on, versus giving it all up

i quiet the impulse that claims i don't deserve this
because i've always yearned to be happy

in the past a heavy heart i've carried
unaware of how to care for my wounds
unable to escape the vicious cycle
imprisoned by lack of principle
believing there was no where else to go

"thank you", my heart exclaims
because i know this feeling
the feeling opposite of my experiences in whole
unfamiliar yet powerful
fear-inducing and inspiring

i tear down the walls i've built to guard myself
and i am terrified, afraid.
i find myself getting in my own way.
but what good is there in being helpless?

faith turns each of these weaknesses away.

400m

little things
since when have they taken a backseat.
how long have i been pointing fingers
and when will i finally be awake?

what is it that causes me to move so quickly-- so fast
and yet be stuck here, in the same exact place.

underlying reasons i've thought were so difficult to find
all along have been right in front of my face

Ending October (freewrite)

There's really no level of honesty that can sincerely take me to a place that can fully express what this feels like. I don't think it has anything to do with truthfulness, honesty, sincerity, or any of those things that are often lacking when it comes to feeling this way --

Quite the opposite -
it's the floor crumbling beneath my feet kind of panic
my emotions are straining.
Itching for a place to catch my footing.
A spot where I can stop falling
after I feel like I've found a way to climb so high.
I'm borderline floating,
wishing I knew what made it so easy to rise above.
Fly higher.
Dream bigger.
And somehow stay inspired.

I find that I'm at this earth shattering breaking point
where nothing makes any sense at all,
but it's that chaotic feel that gave me the most ease.
I have no idea what limits I'm gonna break -
and I have no obligation at all to find out.
I have no pressing need to foresee the future,
though it's bouncing back at me
and beating crazy heatwaves into my lifelines.
My blood's boiling with the anticipation and eagerness in this uncertainty.
I have nothing but high hopes for it.

I'm watching red bricks turn yellow each step forward I take.
My eyes see nothing in front of me;
they've become mere windows
to peer through while my heart steers me in this direction.
They're open to just barely witness the miracles that blind me.
The sky that keeps my flight.
The wind that keeps my ease and peacefulness intact.
I'm blown away by the happiness pulsing through my veins.
Wondering if there's a need to define it,
when everyday it recreates itself into something bigger.
Better.
Like I'm meant to lose sight of all I know
because this is all beyond anything that's been felt before.

I'm inspired by you, love.
You have become this ridiculous reality
that I'm failing everyday to achieve.
A dream I can't seem to wake from.
A life I couldn't have imagined for myself.
A night that is too dark to see through,
but I'll sleep walk just to meet you.
And it's a shame that you're an amazing dream come true;
making reality seem like a false sense of security
we all failed to realize --
it was only some figment of an imagined state of safety.
You make life seem like it's just started.
I've never breathed this easy before.
Being with you is like finding my sunlight for the first time.
Holding you is better than sunlight.
Kissing you is better than breathing.

And if I could find the right words to describe it; I'd choose not to.
For fear that it would cheapen this indescribable experience I have with you.
A dream - witnesses and realized.
An accidental slip into what everyone wishes could have been.
A reality that never could feel real.
It's just that [...] good, you can't ever believe it.

left-justified

you felt so right, so i left…

427 miles until i reached your pillow case

and even though i sat cozy in the driver's seat of a chevy

you felt like a leap of faith

see, i was never the type to see distance and be attracted

my idea of romance existed within a 50 mile radius

but the moment we kissed, i realized what inspired Thomas Edison.

you electrocute every nerve in my nervous system that that nervous feeling is non-existent,

so when we hug, it's just natural.

like lightning imitating nature's electricity,

you are electric.

you even make 5am wake ups worth it

because the reflections of the sunrise on the windows of the city's endless hills are pretty damn reminiscent of the glare in your eyes and the smile on your face.

fuck it, im cliche.

but when i drive, i think of you.

you've embedded yourself so deep in my brain like i was a fiend that sniffed so hard,

it institutionalized me.

but i still want you bad.

something like the urge to cut lines of cocaine while going through withdrawal in rehab type of bad.

it's as if cupid lost his arrow and has been trying to shoot you with a pistol

but for the past 21 years, he was sighting incorrectly.

…until now.

books and books of words that you opened my ears to

stories upon stories that gracefully stumbled out of your lips with tantalizing diction

and still,

i have not but 1/8 of what your life has been.

a mystery to me from an island where your foundation was laid.

but i want to learn you

i want to mix smoothies with you

mix beats, mix emotions,

mix limbs.

your fiji apple lips to my strawberry kiss.

you are my muse

i haven't written in years but you make it effortless to speak

from prose to staccato to the measures of music that you make my heart groove to

beat skipping, leap frog

impactful tactics like guessing all the coordinates of my battleships.

see, i was always taught not to use "like" in my speech

but its no longer just a space filler.

it's become the filling to the space between your freckle-eyed brown eyes and mine

like that air of silence, like that air of laughter

boiling down into complete insanity of our hands pressed

singing songs to the rhythm of our heart's desires.

you make me want to jump out of excitement

but i always fall back because you've made my knees too weak to absorb the landing.

so when i land to you, i gain justification

because the moment i left, it felt so right.

unfinished Sept. freewrite

[freewrite]

it's already revealed itself
to be so much more than just "worth it"
like i'm giving meaning to mean so much more
and more than anything,
enhanced beyond any imagined possibilities

i find myself leaning on figures of speech
itching for natural progressions
to reveal what has already become so obvious,
even to the oblivious,
that this is so much more than just the ordinary
the regular and the expected
in the everyday struggle to aim to get higher
to dream bigger
and to live better
i find myself happier
than what words can merely describe
speechless often

he gave meaning to all that
to reveal he's more than all that
he makes words unworthy of describing this feeling
i'm itching for a new way of expressing it
new words to suit this new fit
but i know i'm on the right track...

i'm almost there
building this foundation of every dream as it hits reality
colliding with my awakened soul
breaking down all my limitations
i'm rebuilding my dreams
brick by brick
building this foundation
watching red bricks turn yellow
and i know i'm on the right track
not sure where i'm headed
...just following my yellow brick road.

grasp

will i ever fully grasp
      why you do the things you do?

      does this even matter? when
         your actions-- all pure and true


      knowing you could be struck down;
         the risk of being smashed apart or turned away

      the conscious refusal to let anything sway you in the end

         incites me to rebuild my ways.

Big Tree Small Pond

Will this seed ever become a tree?
It's been years of gradual growth,
but it seems like it will never reach the skies.
With so much redwoods blanketing the middle ground,
it's hard not to look up.

But in a great intimidation the rays of light are blocked.
Plenty of other trees can grow without light but why not this one?
I'm frustrated because I want it to reach the heavens,
and I want it to tower over the entire earth.
I'll let it become the great land mark of the entire universe.
The Great Wood outdoing mother earth itself as a host of life.

But this sapling can only dream.
It can't help but sigh up and down with the autumn wind.
quickly swallowing any taste of light it can get.
slowly it grows and slowly it extends.

It whistles in the wind,

"I'm going to be up there one day,

you'll see..."

Fate, quietly

as i lie while falling asleep tonight
i wonder and think...
wonder and think.

the trail i follow.
the choices i make.
the experiences of others,
wherein i try to relate.

they flock together to cause me to ponder

what is my fate?


i try to never look back,
but in the moment i found i dared, and did.


snow-covered slopes,
waves crashing on the shore,
fire blazing from glowing firewood
while me and loved ones sat together--

toasting marshmallows and s'mores.



another question, to myself i ask,


what do i remember these things for?


the answers i form i ignore
as the voice in my head says to me,

"remember some more".

but it's deep down that i know,
here lies the core of my situation.


the memories where i dwell,
versus the future i issue to my imagination.

the present that provides either peace or disaster;
as it is up to myself, to be the victim, or be the master.


for you, my life i refine.
for me, my worries i resign.

my fate, as so much as i yearn to know,

i peacefully realize,


will manifest on its own

silently over time.

overload tonight is just freewrite

this stupid browser pane
simply cannot contain
the ideas within this brain
my fingers wont explain
they only move to disdain me
only typing what they want
making something else completely
and it just frustrates me
cause i cant write to save me
a simple song to inspire the mind
only lyrics assembled strangely


as the wind blows
feel the air around flow
even though you dont see it
it has your body in its gentle hold

move forward against the current
and see that you split it
move with the direction
and you become part of it

aim your will with the flow
its been here forever
never again to repeat
time is like the river

experience isn't the end or the answer
its only a memory to reflect upon
to savor and to master
the moment that is our whole life

when i want my thoughts heard
i write them down
they translate to spoken word
id rather that id create
work that is church appropriate

Untitled

doesn't matter
that i want to understand,

i will never.


doesn't matter
that i sincerely care,

when
my heart
disagrees with surrender.


so let it ache,
let it strain,
let it scream,
let it complain--

it doesn't change,

it won't change.



a reality i valued,
which i thought
i was living

ceased to remain.



and i quietly opened new eyes.

yearning that i would see the same familiar scene
praying so damn hard it were merely just a dream...



but instead i reluctantly see,



in all of its filth, imperfection
beauty, sincereness
and even simply by its own existence,



a human,


exactly the same as i,
gazing away


far into the distance.

because

i feed off your need
but not in a way I would take
i acquire my fire when you let me create
a layer of words to relate to you
that you can have and eat it too
its easy as cake
sweet but not devils food
for your soul a warm soup to cajole
that hunger for the truth that is sought by the few
and if you are reading this,
you're probably starving for it too

poo on the tv on your phone in your ear
the world is nothing but ignorance's seed
inpregnated divine merging spirit and mind
into sons of fear who are borne to revere
their chosen higher power
who mutually devour
processed food, the bounty gone sour
just like the vine which is nothing but excrement
of nutritive spent on bacterial phagous
ironically we find delious
malicious that it poisons and enlightens when inbibed
depends on the reaction of the diners mind
i find that i have too many tabs open at this time
and stop this motion of prose
dime.

He Is My Difference

[An old piece dedicated to the one who inspired me to write.]

These years have been passing far too quickly for me
I have lost too many memories to my bad memory
And I have met so few people that I can remember beyond a simple "hello"
...but he is so different --
His personality must be why
He had become so personal to me --

He took my words from me,
Though they were mangled from a twisted tongue
And I always felt that my words belonged to only me
He stole them straight from my lips that he had pushed open to speak in the first place
And as he listened to them...
He misunderstood them
Twisted them and used them
Misconstrued them...
And…redefined them
Into something more beautiful than I could have ever imagined...

So now each time he talks to me
I can't hear a damn thing he says --
Because his presence speaks so much louder
His words mean more
His steps leave imprints with me
His actions define inspiration
And when he spits a spoken piece
I can't help but feel that his poetry has become obsolete
The mic in his hand is as pointless as his efforts to raise his voice
Because his words have already echoed to me
New beginnings
New realizations
A new identity deeply rooted
As I look at what they had done to him
The inspiration resonates within me
Vibrating within my thoughts
It jolted through me
And he put the pen in my hand
And forced me to see no intimidation in blank pages
But rather, mere opportunities laid out in front of me
Page by page...

He had become my difference --
The difference there stands between a melody and a song
A voice and its singer
Like a talent that has yet to be discovered
He became the stage -- the foundation for such amazing performances
...and I?
I was just the audience
That if he knew me to be strong
It was only because he held me up
When I was the small, weak girl I had been...
If I wanted to tell the truth - he was my honesty
In my need to be heard
To speak up
Speak loud
And be proud --
He would amplify me
And when I needed the words
...he would inspire me...

And even if I were just reading it
The pieces of his heart unfolded in a notebook of poetry
His misspelled words were merely due to his fumbled fingers
And not mistakes of thought
Reminding me that amidst mistakes
And little details that hint imperfection
The message is not lost
The emotion still preserved
And I sit here still writing
Still so damn inspired...

I had always told him that "words are cheap"
Because actions speak louder than words, right?
But in hearing that cliche,
This time I was the one who was mistaken
Because his actions had merely become the echo of the words he spoke
The stencil I asked him to complete with colors
They were merely the motions of his syllables
His words weren't cheap at all, but rather
They were the subtle truth that he represented to me
The wind that would guide the waves of the ocean
He had moved me with nothing more than a pen in his hand
And a voice to speak it

His words had instead become a gift to me
Priceless -- and so far from "cheap"
They defined the unspoken
The unheard
The invisible
And the intangible
He spoke of the things I couldn't see, but could only feel
He brought me to the realization that reality can also be my solace
Because I can live a dream while I'm still wide awake
And if I ever had the chance to open his eyes, I would
So he can dream
Wide awake
With me...

You see,
He showed me the difference
Between poetry and a passion
The written words and a bold voice
I was merely a puppet of the inspiration he was to me
Only writing of the echos of what he silently spoke to me
And as he stood right there in front of me --
I became different --
Because he is my difference...

self-written two years, 34 days ago

Self-June 1st,2009

I am a slow learner,
and for this, I've missed out on life.
Many a night spent wasting away,
steeped in poison, which caused which to decay;
the brain was the first, the second my body,
or was it my spirit, who easily succumbed to it's calling?

Then it was my heart, which battled on long,
between the loneliness of the secret,
and confessing my wrongs.


It knew not what to do, so it surrendered to my mind,
encased by brain enslaved to it's own demise.

Then it was my life, that proceeded to get worse,
losing jobs, friends, and school, it seemed I was cursed.
The curse began to show in others lives,
stealing them of freedom, I kept them chained at my side.
I clung on to them on my ship that was sinking,
draining their life, no remorse I was feeling.

It was no surprise when I woke up one day,
that it was five years later, I was alone, and shamed.

That all I had done was because of a choice I made,
day in and day out, the decision was the same.
That I would not love myself, a lie I long believed,
that no one could love this despicable me.

And because of that resignation of my being,
I had no reason to try anything.
I had no hope, no vision to see,
of myself better than what I have been.

I couldn't believe that others loved me,
in turn, I expected them to prove everything.
Because my reality was a twisted lie,
that nothing for myself was worth the try.

So the ones who have loved me, attempted to give freely
their love, and their time, in reality, I was stealing.
To me, I felt their love was undeserved,
so gave my entire being to show them love in return.

In this, I became a burden to anyone who cared,
because I refused to provide for myself the means to share.
I had it my way, this was an error, now I see,
if I didn't love myself, I didn't love anything.

How can I listen, when I only hear myself speaking?
How can I support, when I'm the one leaning?
How can sympathize, when I dont even know my feelings,
It is impossible, when I hate myself daily without reason.

So I lost everything I cherished, I surrendered it all,
to fear and self loathing, waiting for deaths call.
I refused to live, yet was too afraid to die,
because every day I hid behind my pride.
Behind the facade I put before all,
I thought I had everyone fooled, yet I was wrong.
Everyone saw what I was doing, and would try,
to shake me, so I would awake from my lie.
I remained stubborn, refusing to see,
the only eye that I was fooling was me.

Eventually, one by one they went away,
my friends, my loved ones, my goals for my days.
I even lost the lord, I lost the right to play.
I lost my sense of self, and in my bed I laid.
No job, no school, no money, no nothing.
Thats what I believed I was, so I became; NOTHING.

Then by a miracle, out of nothing, spoke something.
From despair and the throes of insanity, I felt, then heard him coming.
Tired and lonely, hurting, and sick,
looking up from at the bottom of my pit of despair
I looked for an exit off this road to nowhere.

Humbling, It was, being lower than low,
the consequence of walking on this wayward road.

From nothing, I would eventually come to see
some things had nothing to do with how my life came to be
it wasn't about what anyone else did, or how I was reared,
my choices made me, that finally was clear.

Why prove to others, when I couldn't prove to myself,
how could I care for another, when I destroyed my own health?
How could I tell them not to worry, then do things that hurt me,
then promise to care for them, when I couldn't care for me.
Why did I care so much if someone liked me?
I could never become what they were, they are NOT ME.

Why attend something when no one counts your attendance?
It was only between me and God now, that I could find repentance.

Why did I keep calling myself ugly, then resent rejection?
Why blame everyone else for my self made appearance?
Why do something I hated to do day to day,
then go through more stress of hiding that I did it anyway?
Why ask for help, when I had no reason to get better?
Wasting the others time in a hopeless endeavor?
Why did I hide my pain from the ones who cared most?
Why did I hide from God, the only one who could help me?
Then start to believe that he was the one who had left me?

Then somehow, somewhere, I saw the light,
everything I believed was wrong, so searched for what was right.

If I hated what I was doing, I should have just STOPPED,
to surrender to change, and learn to move on.
If I resented rejection, I needed to begin to accept myself,
and make an effort to improve my health.
If I was lonely, I shouldn't have pushed everyone away,
start trying the truth and keeping it that way.
If God had left me, how was it possible I survived?
It's because I rejected his love, in a lie.
God was always there, in the form of love of others and opportunities,
allowing me to recall that there was something better than I had chose to be.

In reflection of all that I had, I realized what I truly lost,
that all the mistakes I made, had come with a cost.

I looked at things without attachment
and without feeling, stood and looked with detachment.
Everything as it was, they were different.
When I saw them without the emotion to smear it.

It wasn't about what I was not or was given,
I made do with what I had, and created my way of living.
I had everything handed to me on a platter,
and ungratefully hating myself, let it scatter.
It never matter how everyone saw me,
how I saw myself, is what I created into being.

I don't know how I finally learned this truth,
but since then, it's been the greatest lesson from my youth.
From all my failures and wrongs, wisdom I now gain,
as long as I rise up and try again, my life wont stay the same.

So today, I live my life to myself being true,
loving what I have become, because of what I put myself through,
I am able to hold up my head and proclaim,
because the lord loved me, I can do the same.
And because I have fallen, I know what its like to empower my fate,
to believe what I was, is what I would create.

I now choose love, and in love, I have faith,
which enables me to envision a better life to make.

Life is an adventure in which I make it,
Life I create, the world is mine, to take in.
Life is experiencing the moment in every day,
taking in what I want, and discarding useless ways.
Every moment is a blessing, I faithfully concede,
in loss, in pain, true gain is received.
By trials I am purified, and in wrongs, I see the right,
the why behind every law, and the inner battle we fight,
between fear and love, there is always a choice,
but with God, I rise above, and in living, rejoice.

found [freewrite]

i find myself finding peace in his presence.
his aura could put me to sleep
because i feel so comfortable basking in the intensity of its calm.
but i'd want nothing more than to just stay awake for a lifetime,
so i don't miss a beat.

my breath of fresh air
every time our breaths collide
in the midst of a chaotic life of confusion.
my clarity after all this emotional mess of a life i've been.
i am, for lack of a better way of expressing it, collected now.
he pieces me back together,
and a sigh of relief releases from my lips as he reminds me;
life goes on,
love endures,
and if we can endure to the edge of forever...
we could catch onto and get a good tight grip on this thing called love.
and if possible,
simultaneously fall into its expressive twists and turns,
holding fast the sincerity it eases me into...

so, genuinely --
i want to share with him a life only imagined by the dreamers that dream wide awake;
setting imagination on fire with a passionate love
only found among those that find peace in each other's souls,
falling deep while holding on so damn tight
...onto this thing called love.

cranial splooge, needs work.

um brain flow, not a song. fail/win

I write, my brain ignites parts dealing with language and visual imagery,
I type blindly, eyes closed, fingers tap nimbly, sometimes tumbling.
preferring the dark to open up my perception,
eyes wide shut, reality not perceived now more or less concepted,
without light washing everything, I relate more to my reflection
close my eyes and what to or do i see,
no words, just blank, light through flesh looks green,
patters that entwine and twirl constantly,
the mosaic dance of geometry in my mind display
kinda reminds me of a ladder, amino acids, DNA?
isn’t DNA at the molecular level, imperceptible to naked optical veins
requiring the aid of mechanics to magnify it’s peptide chains?
occipital lobe transmitting and sending in code
and I wonder,
so what does the optical nerve receive in the dark sending,
transmissions to my neural cortex for rendering
to perceive anything without vision, is that thought or environmental stimulus?
without visible light, what exists beyond physical witness?
the thesis of science and physics once explained,
without tangible data, measurement, or mathematical certainty, metaphysical distained-
everything was matter, nothing else, things were as only what we could see
convenient thought to those caught up in lives busy things,
devoting time to their drive to attain more gold more health, the modern dream
I understand why, then also not. schools of thought conflict and and I ponder,
minutes, hours, years, I examine thought life as I wander
eventually one of these days,
ill choose what to believe, and perceive according so
rhetorically asking, always questioning what im told,
is the only way to live, im sorry, my soul and spirit given are bold,
and feel so uncomfortable with complacently getting old.
That’s the reason I give to my ADD,
its not a disorder, thats why I never claim it,
I simply name it so relate it to anyone else labeled and made feeling unable
I am NOT learning disabled, I am boundless in capability,
what I have is a state because of a overly excited reality
a multitude of options to experience, exponentially higher than the generations my senior,
since 1982, I had cartoons, fast food, and high fructose sweetener.
then it got even worse, with MTV, when I was 14 I was on AOL, chatting with pedophiles about NSync.
I was lucky, I was 17 with my first mobile phone,
a mototorla, the fat flip. analog, with straight tones, not-RING TONES.
it had 60 minutes a month, for 40 bucks prepaid,
and omg it was big as a brick, thick, and probally thats how much it weighed.
what the heck more now with ipods and touch,
Facebook, and tweets, and dear lord, unlimited texts for low cost?
So many interesting, disgusting, things I hear, touch, taste, and see,
my attention is commanded like stingy portion butter spread way too thinly,
how the hell could i keep still in this field of exiting irritation, to my psyche?
I thank my mom and dad for not sending me to to get the fix,
ritalin had my classmates piddling and twiddling their thumbs, obedient
my choice to get drugged later on was my own, it came and went.
education is a joke, it only chokes the only hope of freedom from illusion,
teaching only how to conform, and turn off your brains, leaving one in confusion,
if you could and you would succeed you did as a parrot,
put back onto paper what they told you, and kept daily attendance,
stayed active in extra curricular gigs, if you had the money, or the fafsa, you got into college,
where there is still a glimmer of substance for the uninitiated,
still turns out droves of tools for corporate wage enslavement
and wonder why we aren’t happy, even when we comfortably maintain
the status quo of society, cause you know inside its all its fake
only the few let that feeling rise to the conscious,
leaving them unsettled at first, then from there its just
either being always mad, or unresponsive
accepting where you are, or accepting responsibility
complacency is chosen, not imposed on or rewarded,
one of infinite paths of destiny to go with…
I digress, back to eyeballs in the dark, writing what I didn’t know how to say
cranial ,cerebral, the brain, rods and light and photons and rays,
names for things that never fully explain
sustaining the mundane, science divides through nomenclature
separating all of one sum into parts, calling them elements of nature,
defacing the beauty and erring the name of what is all of creation.
I remember I was 18, reading my first book on the new science,
it was about schrodingers cat, how it existed and didn’t,
when put in a box, it had two quantum positions,
it was, and it was not, there was no difference,
the cute kitty was there, and it wasn’t, all in the eternal instant.
it took me years to understand what the heck this dude was saying,
it was star wars stuff to me, everything is one, we’re strings!
vibration is the function though which energy is expressed,
nullifying and minimizing the concept of death, energy never ends, it transforms, absolute zero is where we come from, from nothing is everything, yielding
infinite possibility from anything, broken down smaller than elements,
smaller than atoms, then electrons, ions, we are also the space in between them, composed sub atomic woven networks bound by magnetic hems
well then that made sense, cause God said, “let there be light”
started his creation, which only after illumination, also created what was called first night.
in accordance with something i figured out when i was 12 or so, engaged in art,
light needed shadow to create lines which defined space apart,
lines, creating images, images represent structures and living,
without shadow, there would be no way to perceive what was in our vision.
white is only the combining of wavelengths expressed, a.k.a. colors,
yet if everything was white, then who could tell one from the other?
yet the same is in the dark, black, as we chose to describe it,
without light, black appears as the the state of blindness.
Why don’t we call blind peoples vision the state of whiteness?
At least in the dark, you can make up what you see, as long as you’re calm, your mind is free.
too much light overwhelms the eye, that- is truly blinding.
Too much bright light feels like too much loud sound,
filling the head with the feeling its drowned.
It never hurts when its too much dark, it doesn’t even make sense, too much dark. lol

"Roses are Red"

written for two of my friends that got married :)

----
To be completely honest,
I’m not one to profess that I know what “love” is…

But when I see you two
Even though I may not really know what “love” is…
I’m convinced I’ve seen it
I’m convinced it exists

It was as simple as what was already so well known
So obvious to the rest of us
We’re only witnesses to what is so undeniable
It’s beyond all those love clichés and love quotes
And so much more than just what you hear in love songs
It was like...if you told her "roses are red…"
She knew "…violets are blue"
And just like that - the passionate fire that ignites
That was our proof of a simple and easygoing…
Well, simply put - the simple miracle of you two.

And it’s not really so “over the top”
Like either of you giving the other a piece of the universe
No crazy professions and attempts of writing your name across the sky
No gifts of the sun, moon, or the stars
Just a sunny, happy, and brightly lit piece of reality you share together
Something as quiet as a moonlit walk - hands held, fingers intertwined
And the peaceful moments that ensue
It’s something like a shine or that twinkle in your eyes
That almost made him make a wish any time she blinked
Because he mistakes her gaze for the stars illuminating the night sky
Since she was the bright light and shine in his life...

It was never “too much” of anything - no need to push past the bounds of time and space
No need for promises of eternity
Just an understanding and acceptance of the meant to be -
She knew you were her destiny
And gauging by the way she knows how to make him smile
And the way he knew how to win her heart and make it race
Though there was honestly no competition at all if they both won first place

They were probably slightly delirious -
(You probably didn’t even realize the profound effect that love had on you two)
Those butterflies fluttering in their stomachs
Making ‘em stutter when they speak
Leaving them both with those weak knees
And to be honest, that’s probably how they got knocked down so unexpectedly

It was simple - merely a simple twist of fate
A spin on a simple reality that made the ordinary things suddenly new
When he said forever, you just knew
When she claimed your heart, nothing but happiness would ensue
Just like when “the everyday words seem to turn into love songs”
You see, neither of you need the sun, the moon, or the stars
When destiny had its way
This was no dream come true - it was a fated path paved for the both of you
A God given journey that even made “forever” seem like it simply wasn’t long enough

You see; I may not really know what “love” is…
But I’m convinced I’ve seen it
And I’m so convinced it exists

It’s as simple as what was already so well known
So obvious to the rest of us
Because when you tell her "roses are red…"
She already knows "…violets are blue"
Our proof of the simple miracle of a God given love for the both of you.

So congratulations to your new life together
On your simply beautiful journey as you live life anew
With everyday, taking a step closer to your own happily ever after
Our proof that even if we don't know what love is - we know it truly exists
We just know that since roses are red...violets must be blue.

freewrite

Addictive.

melt my heart and take me high

...i'm that kind of addict.

stories of overcoming toxins of a past life

not realizing the poison that's coming in.

keep it coming.

if the high fails, give me more.

...i'm that kind of addict.

everyone said i should quit

...i'm a blind kind of addict.

i inhale it, i inject it, i engulf it to the point of perceived bliss

Stop.

is this even real anymore?

does this drug even get me high

or do i just want to believe it does so much so i won't have to feel anything else?

Withdrawl.

back and forth feelings of

i need you, i miss you, i want you

realizations of

you're no good for me

you turn my veins into boiling acid disguised as blood

...still boiling.

your toxic levels rise so high, you infect everyone around you

do i still want you?

no, but that high, i'd take back any day

not from you

from Him

down

...i'm hella down for a life of uncertainty
just as long as you're not sure either
i'm down to never find what i'm looking for
just as long as you're holding my hand as we search
i'm down to never find answers to any of these questions
just as long as it's your voice telling me
you have no clue what to do...

truth

i'd like to say that there is hope
but i don't know if there was
...or is
and i find myself being too scared
to write in the present tense
vulnerability hitting me so strongly
my weak knees are already failing to keep me grounded
losing my grip on the reality of who i was without you
too worried that i'll have to find out the hard way
then i get too afraid to speak too soon
and write of you in the past tense
hands write tense
and the tension cramps up my thoughts
i'm not free
captivated and trapped in the moments of you
frozen in our winter kisses
missing our summer heat
and childish as it seems
i don't want to admit that it's over now
and maybe if i don't say it out loud
the truth won't hear me
reality won't catch me
and they'll forget to grasp onto it
onto what i already know
is too true

rant

the feather is cold, dry and virgin to present time's inkwell.
It's embellished in a reoccurring frozen thought.
I see emotions and their leaking auras ascend from it's shell,
and I decide to reach into the darkness to exclaim the current state's requiem
Attempting to explain the dirty slated ways of them,
because I'm caught in this cycle of looking back to...
"now and then" but...
I remind myself why the feather ever became neglected in the first place.
I sit justifying it to save face amongst the crowd of un-attentive peers.
The soul always felt destined to shape a seer but I still stand before you today...
incompetent...
writer's blocked, soul locked, lacking all accomplishment...
There is me.
That was then
This is now.
So now i've re-learned that optimism is this epic monument that requires maintenance on a daily basis.
and though I understand my brained is over staffed,
still...nothing ever seems to really get done.
So once again I let it go and leave nothing for those amounts to grow.
show and tell a green colored mask, show only black and royal blue,
and hope the sun lends an ear and maybe a vision too...