Tuesday, May 31, 2011

5-5-10

Hope for me
Pray for me
See through me

Hold me
Love me
Fill me
Be me

Stay with me
Don’t leave me
Cry for me
Sing for me
Dream of me

Dance with me
Touch me
Be in the present with me

Be absurd with me
Be crazy with me
Be crazy for me

Take a breath with me
Scream with me
Jump with me
Fly with me

Be with me.

5-1-10

I don’t care to talk
I would much prefer to listen
I want to listen to the sound of your voice as it rises and falls with each breath that you take
The context of your words are nothing more then a sweet melody of a distant dream
A song so dearly missed
The way your mouth moves and eyes glisten
They way the corners of your smile turn up and down
As I sit and just listen

……

Actually, I lied
I do care to talk
But I would much prefer to listen
I seem to be out of words and you seem tell the stories so much better.
I am out of words because you have them all
Locked away behind your tong
That help explain the language in your mind
That I could not begin to find
So I just sit and listen

4-26-10

Sitting, staring, wishing, thinking.
She sits alone, she sits well
Nothing but peace rests in the eyes of a green eyed, pale faced brunette
Alone at the coffee bar
Alone like always
She walks alone, she eats alone, she lives alone
Glances from strangers leave an aftertaste of displacement
But nothing disturbs her position.
She sits with her coffee to the side and pen in hand
Scribbled notes of tangent thoughts that lead no where
She looks up and sees a boy. The boy?
No, not him. It never is.
Just another impersonating stranger.
She settles back into her table for one.
She sits alone, she sits well.

4-15-10

The woman on the bus holds her belongings so tight
With hair wrapped up in a cloth atop her head just right
She sits and waits for her time to come
When she can march back out to the beat of the cities drum
She brings out her newly purchased Bible
And begins to read the words that move her to pray
Just like she does on every other day
She sits and prays so deep in thought
Envisioning everything the simple words have brought
Eyes sealed shut with her Bible clutched in hand
So tired and weary, she gives in to sleeps command
For she does not wake during the time that I watch
As the Bible slowly slips from her fingers
Sitting, watching as the thought lingers
Will she wake up? Or will she stay
On the bus to pray?
To dream of salvation or to pray for the day?
On the bus the woman stayed just a little longer
Knowing that each moment of prayer made her just a little stronger
Then came the time for her prayers to end
For her stop was coming just around the bend
She woke from her dreams with a heart full of prayers
And gathered her things averting the stares
Her time had come
Her stop was here
And as the bus continues forward, I watch her figure slowly disappear

1-19-10

We are all misunderstood creatures roaming the earth, searching for ourselves.
We pray that we roam with purpose hoping for meaning behind the insanity.
We suffer greatly for our beliefs and opinions that formulate us into individuals.
Who we wish to be are simple portraits that hang in the walls of our minds.
Who we are perceived as by our peers are nothing but blurred reflections in an altered state.
Who we truly are, are beautiful and complex works of art that stand before a Creator.
Through a simple gift, each individual is given a chance to build a world.
Each world is unique yet similar. Simple and abstract.
Our lives can be complicated and barbaric.
Many struggle to find acceptance with the reality they are given.
Searching for proof in the facts, and solidity in the ground.
Many times we feel as if we stand alone.
Other times we feel content.
And some times we feel blessed.
Our goals and standards of normality range from conservative to provocative.
For many, life’s thrill is in ones ability to be humbled.
For others, it is in the shock value of their actions.
What defines life is held in the breath of each lung.
One’s stress related to “valuables” can be taken with a grain of salt or the weight of the world.
But due to our common source and mutual end, I believe we are all the same.
We search for beauty in every soul; living or not.
We crave to be touched on every level; both physical and spiritual.
We long for peace to be found in every heart; in the common and mislead.
We expand in the direction of knowledge; through education and experience.
We require Love. Acceptance. Guidance. And Growth.
But above all things that we search, crave, long, expand for, and require is to know what it is like to be understood.
To be Understood is to be Loved.

1-15-10

We all have it in us.
This creative serge.
Many do not know what to do with it, or how to express it.
I do my best to project out into the world and show everyone my potential… although I could do better. I could be more vocal. I hold myself back a lot mainly in fear of how others will interpret my writing or what they have to say about it. I fear judgment. I judge myself a lot. I am my biggest inhibitor. I want the world to know my voice, my words, my thoughts. Yet… I hold back and restrain myself. It is what every artist suffers. I have this incessant need to share but every time I go to take that step, I fall back in fear.
The words pile up and the creativity becomes lost in the pile. Sometimes silence is the best way I know how to express myself. I feel so much but yet can channel so little.
What to do, what to do?
Do I voice my opinions or cling to the silence?

Dear World,

I close my eyes and try to let sleep wash over me
I close my eyes and all I see is darkness,
I hear the trailing voices left in my mind from the day
It’s tonight that I can not silence them.
They roam around and around, forbidding me to sleep.
They howl like the coyotes outside my window
They run with the wind through the trees
Although they turn and spin circles in my mind,
They leave me still, silenced in my bed with my eyes wide open.
So again, I find myself writing letters to the world that will never write to me.