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...