Archive for May 2008
Chapter 1
It’s like flipping the last page of a book you just can’t put down.
Reading that final sentence to tie up the story in a beautiful bow.
You go back to page 1 and read the first word and then back to read the last.
And you’re sad you’ve read every little piece to the puzzle you’ve just put together.
But happy you’ve flown through this incredible story you’ll never forget.
Farthest down, all the way to the right.
And it scares me.
Ever get weak knees?
Well, I got ’em.
Ever heard of weak feet?
Me neither.
I got those too.
I’m the sun of this physical disaster.
You see, I’ve felt pretty.
I’ve felt beauty.
I’ve felt gorgeous breathing upon my ear.
I’ve felt sight for years and years.
Standards only take seconds to begin yet last lifetimes.
Did you see what it looked like?
You would understand.
I’ve had my moments.
Oh, this is the time!
A dangerous time!
Of best and wonderful.
Too much time to think about one.
With caution signs alerting the driver of a chemical explosion up above.
It rains, pours, upon my vehicle.
But nothing is ending the collapse.
And the thoughts are all scattered.
But since when did selfish deserve organization?
Did I mention I’ve felt gorgeous breathe upon my ear?
As well as hot kissing up my neck?
And voluptious guide its hands to places once forbidden?
All for a shake of the hand. A pat on the back.
But our voices are never heard.
My the mind is mighty.
“The” is gone.
You would’ve died for a taste.
I killed for that handshake.
I’ll be king of hidden potential.
I looked so good from afar…
But baby, I always look good in the mirror.
Remember.
The second you think you may take your hand and grab whatever it is you like, is the second before you are found not worthy enough to have any of it.
Remember.
A girl that goes to the movies, but watches the extras.
And I’ll go to sleep without an imaginary kiss,
From the imaginary lips,
Of someone who doesn’t exist.
For the first time in a long one I struggle to envision a face next to mine.
The face of a girl so wanderingly desired to think about before I succumb to slumber.
The portrait of a love to dream to,
while she sleeps soundly in another place.
Someone whose presence I will wish to be laying next to.
And whoever she may be will never know the thoughts of her, side by side with me, that I shut my eyes to.
But I will.
And whenever the night comes,
that I can finally kiss you, I will then
arise in the morning,
and kiss you once again.
Like a flight through part 2.
I swear the clouds looked a little different with that light shining through it.
It just had to get those beams out high enough where we could see them.
Maybe to try and show us something.
Scattered and chaotic they looked.
Maybe to try and tell us something.
But don’t fright love.
It is only a matter of time before order is restored to the clouds, the skies, our life.
I predicted this a few weeks before the outing.
These tactics are becoming like the air we breathe in this city of the angels.
They seem more reserved for children of the age of G.I. Joe’s and Sing-A-Longs.
Not a thing can alter the mind.
Did you know that?
It’s set to default and no one has the password.
You pride on being so close to God.
Oh, sweetie, you’re so close.
They pride on slamming their gavel to silence the critics and critique.
There’s no room between you two for difference to breathe.
For both of you rule in your own domain.
And you do it well.
But you can’t leave home.
You send them to cells like dogs in a pound.
“They all look the same and they can all be replaced!”
It’s that simple isn’t it?
Simplistic idea.
Damn I bet that cakes tastes good.
A wisp of color in black and white.
I’m like a bullet idle in a magazine ready for its chance to fly.
I’m like a bomb waiting for the gun powder to trickle down to my eruptive explosion.
But Sweetie, I am not filled with anger.
I’m filled with beauty! ready to burst with a touch of potential.
I want to shower my surroundings in ashes of color.
I want the oxygen to turn blue.
And the mountains to turn green.
I want the moon to be white.
And the sun a yellow… with a touch of red and orange of course.
I want the ocean a teal.
The night sky slightly purple with a bright yellow stars like the pictures in a fairytale.
I want the clouds to be puffy pillows hanging from strings.
And the sidewalks to feel like a bed.
I want the fish to fly and the birds to swim.
The animals should talk and the trees should dance.
Knights in shining armor and princesses waiting for their kiss.
I want to get inside of your imagination and bring it all out and spread it all around for the world to see.
I want you to think and breathe.
I am a balloon ready to fly wherever the wind will push me until I burst all the beauty to those down below.
I love you all.
Light.Sensation
Oh, how I can see thee more simple.
With fields of golden grass and the fences that divide.
The wooden ones we just hop over.
Because we don’t believe in telephones.
Why should we when a run to your yard will do?
Oh and how simple we had it!
The sun in the morning and the moon in the evening.
And all the chaos in between.
I’m on 100. How many stars have you counted?
Failure @ Peace Four Your EXISTence.
Oh! What difficulty!
To see it but close your eyes to it.
To hear it but ignore everything it means.
The struggle to accept. This struggles to object.
And I know it exists. I do.
History may not show the logic. It’ll show you the dreams.
But because the stat book doesn’t show it doesn’t mean it never happened.
And I catch it but I throw it right back.
Because I don’t want it.
And that’s the struggle entirely.
A lose-lose.
For such ease in which it creeps up on me.
It creeps me out.
But did it even creep? No.
But I did creep you.
It had it’s drive.
It, this beautiful it.
It: A hint. It: A hint.
The day breaks in Burma.
They say it’s 20 but it’s more like 100.
The dead are thrown into rivers.
The living wait.
But at 135 mph we are too slow to run.
So we do with what we can.
But it’s not fast enough or enough.
But I think we think slow.
Get it?
And as the morning breaks, we sleep sound never knowing the chaos that prevails on the east side.
But Lord! How we must have it in our case!
But our case came and we never showed up.
We’re a few years too late.
And if only I could hop on the first flight out of here.
To tune to a television where I’d hear something relevant.
Not to hear explanations of candidates who’ve got more chance for them than I do,
From people whose oppurtunities exceed mine as well.
Oh, how I feel a shame ready to creep up and blanket our well being.
“…but your kids are gonna love it.”
The exit’s that way.
So why the mad rush?
I am humbled by the slow speed.
You’ve such a sense of urgency
That’s something I don’t need.
We can now realize the effort in our streets.
The flowers on the wall.
We can now notice the alarm of the red and all it represents.
And with all my acceleration you don’t stop to think.
The deceleration is merely an act surrounded by moats I keep wanting to jump into.