Saturday, May 29, 2010

rain


I'm sitting in the rain again
dancing under the drops
I'm smiling as I stare upwards
as the world around me stops

Time has frozen in my mind
though thoughts continue to race.
I never knew that they could go
at such a frantic pace.

So many droplets
pouring down
hitting silently
upon the ground...

Just like my thoughts
whirling round.
coming and going
with little sound

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Take the Fall

Sitting all alone now
I'm not sure what to do
because every time I close my eyes
all I can think of is you.

And then my mind turns backwards
thinking back upon my years
so few, and yet so many
and through my thoughts fire sears

So many moments of hurt
so many times of pain
so many hours of crying
when I thought I'd never rise again

But you caught my tear filled gaze
caught my ear with your words so sweet
and though I saw you only from afar
I waited so eagerly for the day we'd meet.

My mind only envisions you
standing strong, handsome and tall
and a voice slowly whispers in my mind
"why not, this time, take the fall?"

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Reaper

There is nothing so encouraging
as a reminder on how feeble and fleeting life is
to make one want to remind people how much they care.

We all meet Death in the end.
Some of us do so before our time
some of us run from the Angel, the Valkyries who choose who goes.
Many of us fear Death to the very end...
We have no way to know what will come next,
and many have lost so much faith that they cannot believe what their religions say of afterlife.

But then, some welcome Death.
Some bring it, call the Reaper to them with their own hand.
As I have realize not only once, but twice, in just this week.
Three times in the last two years,
and five times came close to seeing it right beside me.
So many different ways is death shown. 
As a dark, cloaked figure.
As a light, beautiful woman.
As an angel, welcoming one up to Heaven.
As a bright light, a doorway.
As a simple, ragged curtain in an arch, whispering hidden promises.

It is disturbing for so many.
Many would like to know when they will die, how, where.
The would try to prevent it.
Who wouldn't? 
Few.
But that is because few understand, believe
Death, is just the new beginning. 
It is not bad, it is not good.
It simply is.

The Reaper does not judge those who he pulls from this life.
That is not his job.
Judgment is passed by others, far greater beings than him.
Beings who we barely understand.
Ourselves.
It is as they say, 
We don't fear our inadequecies
but rather, we fear that we are powerful beyond measure.
As we are.

We fear not the dark.
We are used to the dark.
We live in the dark.
No, we fear the opposite.
We fear light, the power of good.
We fear the very light that makes us who we are...
And we shun it.
We fear not the hate within us...
but rather, the love.
We embrace so much hate, so much darkness
and cannot stand to bear the light of it's opposites
to love, to heal, to be the light.

At least, for the time that we are in our physical bodies.
Once we are not longer held by the fear of ourselves that being on this plane keeps us in...
then, we are free. 
Then we can see who we are.
and we can love ourselves for it.
Judge ourselves fairly
and choose...

to come back, some want.
to stay in a place where we are connected to everything
in a way that we, now, here, in the physical
would not understand.

Death does not
steal
hurt
rape
pillage 
plunder
maim
or judge.
Those are all human, physical qualities.

Death
is not darkness.
The Reaper
is not evil.
Death
simply is.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

The Flame

We watch the flame of life get eaten by the darkness
It gets quelled by the anger and hate around the embers,
and saved only by the gentle breeze that flickers around it
The night is darkest right before the dawn
but the flame burns the brightest when surrounded by black
and so long as there's a gentle breeze, it will survive.

And so I sit. 
A candle in the darkness
a light of hope in the black of night
fed only by a breeze of confusion.
Flickering this way, and then that, always indecisive
not a steady wind, no, for that would only become blocked
but it flows one way, until it is blocked by the coals that do not wish to burn
and then the opposite way it goes.
Until again, it is blocked by coals that stay dark.

No moment is ever the same,
none can you ever get back to start over again.
You can have new starts, but there is still a history there.
No matter how much you may try, we are here.
In this moment, nothing else matters.
To live in the present is to be one with the flame,
to live at it's heart.
To be in the present is to be here and now.
It is to feel the flame flick one way and then suddenly the other as the breeze changes
It is to feel the pain and suffering as it comes,
and then to let it go and continue living.
If you are happy now, what else matters?

There are many candles in the darkness.
So many are so dim, dull, dying...
They huddle together, their light dimming the others only more.
the scummy water of hatred and pain collect at their base
It drowns their embers, no breeze able to push them away.

And so I sit.
A beacon to any who wish to find light in the darkness.
other, dull flames come, surrounded by their mountains of despair
they wait for the breeze to tease them away, to show them the freedom of now.

To be in the present is to be one with the flame
To live
to love
To burn
To grow
Ever-changing, living, dying, relighting
A pheonix is inside each and every ember
if only one can reach to it.

Each flame can smolder with hate or love
it can burn on happiness, or anger
And so the flame floats on the ocean of emotions
burning on love, or on hate
on happiness and joy or anger and rage

And so I sit...
the flame is brightest in the darkest moments
the night is darkest before the dawn...
so long as we are one with flame...
we can find the strength to go on.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

A story... dream

There's a story I know
it's one of love, hate and pain.
It's a story of a life
that got washed down the drain.

It's a story of murder, 
one of a suffering heart.
It's a story of rage,
and of so many scars.
It tells the story of a young woman
who, years ago, breathed her last.
It tells of a young man
who's tortured because of the past.

A drug deal gone wrong,
and she was the one to see
he got her out, protected her
he was everything he had to be.

He hid her in a safehouse
when she said not to leave, he stayed
He held her as she fell asleep
holding her close as she laid

It took such a short time
but he found himself in love
she was so beautiful, so kind
more gentle than a dove.

He was all she had then
she had been orphaned and alone
and he was going to get her out
no matter what had to be done

One person was told,
where he was going to be
his back up, the one he trusted
there was only one, you see.

But at the bus stop,
he was horrified to hear
screeching tires, and slamming doors
they were so near.

Footsteps rushed forward
and he heard her pained cry
tackled, he watched her fall
vision blurring in his eyes.

The next few moments fuzzy
but a fight, a beating ensued,
and they left, ran away
he was alright, if battered and bruised

Off and away, he pulled her out
using his shirt to bind the wound
staring in horror at his bloodied hands,
staring in horror at the blood she had had to lose.

She was so calm, compared to him
her eyes comforting,and words soft.
She pulled him down for a single kiss
and a short time later, after words and tears, her spirit was aloft.

he tried everything he could
to pull her back, to save her life
but his voice flew out, a scream of pain
his heart broken, body shaking with strife.

Rage cooled it all, 
then flamed up red hot
back for the gun at the safehouse
karma was what her killers got.

His backup, the only way they had known
got caught by him while he was on the phone
A stab to the heart let him fall to the floor
and without a second though, the young man was out the door.

Her killers, the three who had found her,
when he found them, his hand was steady and sure
three shots, one each, splitting into their heads
he checked all of them carefully, making sure they were dead.

He put the corpses in the car, cut the brake line,
start the car, torch it, get it started
watch it crash into a wall
their bodies burning, and their spirits parted.

Still blinking back tears, 
he went back to the safehouse to change
the thought of the blood on his hands
was like a dream, so very strange

Safe and hidden 
back where he couldn't be found
he cried himself to sleep
curled up on the ground.

The next day, there was no trace
there was nothing in the news.
He learned to control the feelings inside
it was the only thing he could do

When he finally went back to his home
he withdrew from the world
he could let nobody get close
fear of another, similar happening through him swirled.
Months passed by, 
and he moved through the days
everything went by him
as if he walked through a haze

Slowly he started waking up again
though his heart was still broken 
He knew how to control the pain
and nothing about it was ever spoken.

Grown up more than he was back then
he never lets his pain, and rage show
but maybe that's just because he
doesn't want anyone else to know...

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Spinning

Whirling, whirling
whirling round
spinning high
above the ground

Slipping down
through the clouds
my mouth is open
but out of it comes no sound

Falling falling
down we go
Will I land safe?
I don't know

But for some reason
panic doesn't set in
I've no fear, little thought
bu I hate feeling like this, again.

This feeling of indifference
I hate it, so much
It makes me feel like
I can't feel any touch.

But sleep is slowly setting in
and my eyes are slowly closing
the rain falls down outside
and around the house the wind is blowing

These sounds are singing me to sleep
I'll pray to keeps my thoughts in check
breathing slowly, eyes dropping
this is it now...hit the deck.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

She...2


She is so tired...
-...of the fighting, of the useless, pointless arguments, of the ups and downs, of the bruising, the weeping, the unheard cries. She hates not being able to do as she wants without constant pressure to do something else.

She blinks back...
-...tears, hoping that she will be able to sleep soundly in the night, but knowing that it is more difficult than just closing her eyes. It is never so simple as to just falling asleep. She found that long ago.

She curls up...
-...hiding her face under the covers, sighing quietly, tears starting to soak her pillow. It is late, but she still doesn't sleep.

She thinks...
-...about everything and anything. Sometimes, she wishes things were different, that she had taken a different choice than what she did in life to get her here. But she didn't, because she knew where the other choice could lead. Years of pain, frustration.

Sighing...
-...she sits up, wiping her cheeks and flicking on her lamp. She reaches out, grabbing her notebook, a pen, and wanting to write. But there are so many things she could write, so many thoughts, so many ideas.

Her pen touches paper...
-...and begins to scrawl words in smooth, even writing across the paper. It tells the tale of one young man, and then another. It runs on, each page telling of another relationship, of the opinions, the looks, the perfect moments and the beautiful times.

She smiles slightly...
-...tears are still in her eyes as her mind continues. Closer she gets to the present, and on the last page, she writes half a page, and stops.

Blinking slowly...
-...she can feel the present feelings of what has happened now. Every emotion that she has bottled behind a wall so as to be able to let them out safely, without hurting people, without hurting herself.

She let's it all go...
-...and the emotions flow through her veins, anger and rage alongside loneliness, happiness, and sorrow. She lets tears roll down as she feels each emotion fully.

Screaming inwardly...
-...she writes down what she wishes to shout.
"I don't care. I don't care who you are, what you think, or what you think you know! I'm perfectly fine with it all... but I know, what really matters, is what I think, where I go. That is what matters for me..."

She sighs...
-...letting the pen slip from her fingers, staring at the last paragraph, handwriting so much messier from the others...

Turning off the lights...
-...she lays back down, blinking away tears, letting them go, letting the pain go.

She knows...
-...it will take a while for her to recover from the bruises upon her heart. The scratches, the cuts, the makeshift bandaids...it is not broken, simply cracked... And she can heal that.

Slowly, her eyes close...
-...and sleep comes. Peace visits her, and for the first time in a long time, she's at rest.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Alone


A single tear rolls down
leaving a streak through the dirt.
Hair tangles around my face
as I collapse to the ground, hurt.

Pain rolls through my veins
tearing through my heart
because I know one thing for sure
we can't go back to the start.

I'm lonely now, and need
someone to comfort me
I just don't know who to run to
because so many wish to see.

Stuck here in a house
with company but alone
I feel that little voice inside
telling me to be strong.

But I'm so tired of holding up
of keeping barriers and walls
I'm sick of acting like I'm tougher than tough
of having to catch myself when I fall.

But still, I do follow my heart
and it tells me to push on
I just never feel like I know enough
or like I've got enough guts to be strong

But though I feel so horrid
like it's just me on my own
Sometimes I feel like its better
for me to be alone...