i.
one perfect summer day,
you met a girl who took your breath away.
one perfect summer day,
i met a knife who could take my life away.

ii.
this is why i can never love you completely.

iii.
you sunk into me like i was the deepest thing
you could bury yourself in while i
let my shallowness consume you.

iv.
i am not the one that you want.

v.
i deserve to grow old without you.
you need every poem to be written about you.
i burnt the carnage of my heart years ago
your words are what will take me apart.

vi.
i gave you what little was left of me
and in return you gave me your lies.
we all have our delusions, my dear,
and you are mine, i fear.

From my nestled comforts - to the tides,
That is where my serenity hides.
Silver waters consume my perception,
An Infatuated connection.
The glowing disciples in the skies,
Reflecting the aura of your eyes.
Yesterday's warm news,
Carried by the blues.
Today's melody,
Blooming lilac trees.
The cool wake drowns in the summer sun,
Golden coronation has begun.

Why these Roses Pink root Sentiments late
Though Easy Hours take Charity perform
Somber Labours do Extract my Blown State
Yet forged Remembrance to Greet your Fine Norm
That you should Teach - or Teach by apt Mature
Merrily remembered your Candle's Lot
Your Cousin Singer - chant Serenades pure
Through Shrunken Schedules he nearly forgot
Still Efficiency be the Cause of Time
In Wisdom be such Tangle's worthy spent
That of the Owl - consume the Mouse in thine
Though fill Selfish Profits to their Relent.
For now this Focus be: Be Blessed your Day
And Frolicking Thorns best be on its way.

Sometimes life presents challenges,
which at the time may seem small,
but instead, appear insurmountable.
Finding true love is one of the hardest
tasks that humankind, as a whole, faces.

Many see love as pure fantasy,
reciprocal, requited, and unconditional,
as true love is meant to be.
This kind of love brings contentment,
and internal peace, which can be unlike
any euphoria you have ever felt.

This love intoxicates and exhilarates.
It will lift you higher
than the tallest mountain,
and make you feel fuller
than the deepest ocean.
This love will make you feel whole,
and complete, with the
joining together of two lost,
lonely souls, once wondering adrift.
in an union that fulfills.

But, for a select few, this ideal of fantasy is
more of a reality filled with heartache.
That same reality can bring us to our knees,
and the pain alone can smother us,
to the point of not being able to breathe.
Then comes the constant cycle of hurt,
emptiness,  and anger, which draws us back
to the source which has caused such emotion.
It leaves us begging for the pain to stop;
sometimes making us yearn, to once again, be with
the one who has caused us to feel such turmoil.

It is an addiction unlike any other,
caused by the fear of being alone
and starting anew.
We now find ourselves
sacrificing our own self,
to maintain a sense of familiarity and safeness.
Not realizing, but instead blinded by memories,
that this reality is showing us that it
was just not meant to be.

It takes time to mend a broken heart;
time on our own,  to discover our true self-worth;
time to realize that love will find us again.
We will encounter a struggle, unlike another,
to overcome our fears of distrust and vulnerability.
Many lessons will be learnt, along the way.
But, with strength and perseverance,
all of the time spent healing,
will open our heart to a brand new beginning, one day.

First, we must realize, that deep within our own self
lies the ashes of our once brilliantly burning heart.
Only with time, will our pain become manageable.
Yet, we will always wear
the scars of a love gone bad,
as an embattled soldier wears his own, from a war lost.
But, choosing to not allow this to consume oneself,
is a true challenge, in itself.

In the end, deciding when we have had enough,
is what will allow the reopening of our heart.
We must learn, to not allow the pain to truly hide
the one thing that lies right in front of us – opportunity.
Sometimes this opportunity,
is a new love, that is more fitting than the last.
A new love, one that will ease
the loneliness that
envelopes us like a blanket;
a new start with someone who can
love, respect, cherish,
and adore us,
more than any ghost of our past.

We all have the power to turn
our reality into fantasy.
However, never lose sight,
that even true love is not perfect,
and neither are we.
We all make mistakes; we will disappoint.
Not all of us will possess the means, or desire,
to hurt another on purpose.

It is the search for a soul, that mirrors our own,
which will be the hardest struggle.
This struggle can be won with one true fact -
not all people are alike.
Once we open our mind, and our heart, to this,
all fears and inhibitions will melt away,
as the sun melts the snow, in early Spring.

With this sign of rebirth,
our new love will be unlike
all we have experienced before.
But, we must never allow our past
to dictate our present,
which will ultimately decide our future.
We must find that power within ourselves,
to overcome the reality,
by embracing, and enjoying,
the new adventure, and path,
we are about to undertake.


Vicki A. Zinn

February 2011

Wake up oh dreamers of light, tell of your travels
Sailing wingless upon the sea of glass windswept

Neither tomorrow nor the present can touch you
Neither the past nor what is exists in you now

Touch me with the water of your words, be in me
Consume my dry bones everlasting to everlasting

Sleeping in the heavens providing my eternal bed
Becoming the flower neither wanting or forgetting

The sky is your home without a step to stand upon
The stars are the ancestors of your family tree

When will you introduce me to your time or being
I will wait upon the sun and moon as it counts mine
BB2013

the glitterball in space
wrapped in wormholes
caressed by distant quasars
peak at optimum speed
before floating falling
toward the muted aromas
of space age earth

the bile of industry
smears the planet in neon
one giant shinning marble
city lights stretch
in the haze from pole to pole
whatever hemisphere
whatever timezone
whatever continent

aqua is the precious mineral
few places exist where
hope springs life eternal
rivers were rerouted years ago
run by power corporations
who package it in sachets
with dehydrated memory

a planet of consumption
tectonic plates stitched
stapled, bridged and woven
the fabric of the world

we unzip to consume
revel in the electronic tune
that breeds our contempt
for the the lost seasons
our reason dilluted, polluted
by the tune that remains the same;
beautiful stranger
dream a dream for me
because now all we have
between us
is acid rain.

The anger swells inside me; a hurt unrivalled, do I wish to seek out revenge?
Revenge on who?!
The monster smothers me until I can no longer see, hear, breathe!
Controls me.
I am no longer sure if it becomes me or I become it,
I see no beginning and no end.
Infinite aching so deep within my chest that it threatens to consume me until there is no longer me!
Can't they see?!
It's drowning me in an ocean of tears and pain and confusion.
It's too late.

Somedays, I think, how crazy it is,
that life, from lightning, as a spark, came to be,
on a once cold and dead planet,
that bloomed unbiddingly,
and explosions of green lit the land
and water filled the rocks' hungry mouths,
and beasts began to crawl,
and move, and breed.

But then, as I think of Earth,
and the many creatures that send their photons out
into the cold dry cosmos,
I dare to think, how is this strange?
It is those massive orbs adrift I doubt,
a lonely expanse of rock and air and weather,
but no death, there is no life to sever.
I cannot help but think that I
could walk upon Mars' crust,
immortal as the energy inside,
dispersed and realigned again,
the iron colored dirt, motionless, tireless -
and there I fear, loneliness would consume me.

But then, they say, stars die too,
they take their planets in their wake,
that frozen ice, and terrestrial land,
in a flash, extinct? I thought Death had no place,
where there seemed to be no life.

Perhaps like the teeming pools of bacteria
in a puddle warmed and evaporated up to the sun,
Death is the name of transition, and life,
is but a name for all that was,
and will, in some corner of the cosmos,
be again.

Mars is not so lonely then,
his cracked soil, and temperate revolution,
seeming to me, that distant relative,
a bit strange, a bit far-fetched,
and loved and wondered at,
all the same.