Why does my heart still race when I see you?
I saw you walking today, with your friend, and all I could think was "Wow. Is this what a heart attack feels like?"
Because I can't believe it, I was done. I was OVER you.
And instead my heart goes "Beep... Beep... Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP. BEEP. BEEPBEEEPBEEEPBEEEPBEEEP," every single time you come around, like a freakin radar.
I am not a submarine.
I do not NEED for every single cell in my body to alert me when you're within 20 feet of me because, like I said before, I WAS DONE.
No! Don't you dare smile at me with your crooked mouth and shining eyes.
Because then I feel gross.
I DON'T LIKE THE THOUGHT OF BUTTERFLIES FLYING AROUND IN MY STOMACH.
That is disturbing and physically impossible.
My stomach acids would've killed them on contact. Don't try to make this crush cute.
So please, for the love of a Jesus Christ Super Toaster, don't do THAT anymore.
And by "THAT" I mean, don't make me love you anymore.
I can't stand it and I won't for any longer.
In church I was taught that having idols was bad, but that's exactly what you are to me.
A forbidden fruit
So I am praying to God that you are a mango because I hate mangos.
Their insides are too thick and outsides way too thin.
Which is exactly like you because you are a haywire of emotions, but I can easily peel you away to see who you really are.
Maybe I do like mangos...
The first time I touched his small little hands
It was exquisite to the touch
Such soft sweet little hands...I smiled with mother pride
The first time I lay his tiny little feet to my mouth
My senses were reeling with the delicate little feet
Then I lay claim to those eyes...big wonderful almond shaped eyes
There was laughter as he stared right back at me...then from that
To an aching love that only a small child could give
With an unconditinal love, I touched his delicate skin
Lovingly I caressed the wonder of my boy
My tiny...Little...Wonderful boy.... ooh what joy
©Kaila George 2013
A parent’s love is never ending
As we watch, our children grow
We pick them up and mend their bruises
We want to kiss the pain away
Tenderly we give them love
Holding them closer to our hearts
We read them stories every night
Just before, we tuck them into bed
Then they would weave their own version
Of how Tommy took my toy
The story told so heart rendering
As you want to hold him close
Then years pass on by
With each game or story or lullabies
You watch him grow from child to man
In addition, he starts to spend more time with friends
Then late at night, when he returns home
He slowly starts to shrug his shoulders
As you, ask him ‘Where Have You Been’!
You spend hours just before
Just wondering where he went
All I can say to those who wait
Alas, that is all that we can do
Hope and pray that they are ok
And returns safe home to you
©Kaila George 2013
He wields the Hammer
Yet he sees no nails
So blindly he swings
Through space, through time
Untill they rust,
Untill they come lose,
Untill they fall,
His box open
The hammer is fallen
Sometimes in life
When you're not unsure
Of things that make it right or wrong
When, were, how and why does this carry on
You then ask yourself
with uncertainty and doubt
If at times what you learn
is indeed the truth
General things that affect your life
Often affect the way you think
A person dies and a baby cries
And you wonder is that all there is in life
Religion, war, societies will there ever be world peace
Time passes on as the sands of time
Slowly takes away your strife
Because as you grow you live and learn
You taste the knowledge, the tree of life
Many will say that's not the way
In spirit you must always be
But to hold them both
Hand in hand is the only way to be
Will I be condemned in what I believe?
You tell me….just another random thought of mine
©Kaila George 2013
and in a flunk.
I know speaking while inebriated may not be the best idea,
as well as tending to those with gonorrhea .
Sorry it just fit the rhyming scheme,
had not intent to demean .
But sentences seem to flow so clearly,
while under the influence of whiskey.
So I wonder if it really is something I should refrain from.
or an old wives told by doctors to seem fearsome.
Though to think like that your doomed for an early grave.
Liver failure is no grateful save.
So I suppose it's time I give up the delightful sin
before liver failure starts to win.
So farewell jaundice,
despite our fondness.
I'm giving up this clarity
for a new outlook and some moral prosperity.
There is this space that exists inside.
In between my ribs and just under my heart.
It's not in a place to constantly remind me of its presence there.
But it does get nudged from time to time.
It holds onto things I've tried to rise above, to let go of...
But never fully doing so.
Things like negativity and doubt and stubbornness...
Like self esteem bruising childhood judgements.
Like bitter regret of missing out on "I love you" before someone dies.
Like ignorant teenage decisions there was no reason to be making.
Like that secret you told and the one you promised to keep.
Like dutifully cleaning up after destruction since it was easier than starting over new.
Like the coltish grace of learning to be a woman without one.
Like leading a child with having no direction of your own.
Like taking that last piece.
Like hoping karma takes over.
Like waiting for a sign before walking away from toxic people.
Like throwing your heart out there with only faith and hope to be its wings.
Like innate fear of being alright with who you truly are.
Like disappointment for taking all these years to figure yourself out.
Those are some things that rattle around on a quiet and calm night.
On a night that finally arrives after strenuous days bleeding together...
They ghost in and remind you they're still there.
It used to terrorize the still moments when that happened.
No control over the flood of images and empathy associated with each and every reminder.
I thought it was in times like that, when drowning with the sorrows of yesterday was just as easy as an exhale.
But I was wrong...
I was mislead in my own thoughts.
Because when I was tapped on the shoulder by history.
It wasn't trying to hold me back.
It wasn't intending to maim my conscious.
I believe in fact, it just simply wanted to show progress.
To show the "then", compared to the "now"
How every piece of who I am today was shaped and structured in part, to everything I haven't let go of yet.
How do you know when your soul is weaker than strong but mighty enough to fight?
In being made to contemplate all the wonderful and fulfilling things and parts of who we are,
We also have to give credit to the dark pieces
The events and people that have burdened and burnt but never destroyed.
Like any balance in life we acknowledge both light and shadow.
Appreciation of the good in our lives is more fluid when we have proof of the struggles we've overcome.
Be it years ago or hours,
Seeing how far you've come from that which had held you under or has trampled your spirit.
It helps enlighten bit by bit.
And a step at a time is how we all move forward into who we're meant to be.
So i think, that space that exists very close to my heart but just far enough away...
I think I'm okay with it being there.
It may hold scars in the eyes of others
But I know scars are just golden reminders;
Of that which make us stronger.
For if one has no scars, what has one conquered?
What is a calling and
who is calling you now?
Is your spirit calling you
to do the work of god?
Is the calling a new
hope for you in time?
Is time a calling for
you to change your ways?
Are the calling's a guide
for your new life success?
No one will know what
your calling is what to be.
Only you will know what
your calling will bring you.
-Sign LINK THE HERO OF TIME-
God how could i be so selfish?
to completely turn you away, like i did?...
thinking i didn't need you...
knowing when i got YOU is the only time i ever have everything ill ever need..
guess nobody really knows what they need the most until you've finally lost it..
when i loose you i only fall deeper into the wreck i already am without you.
your every thing and i missed it...
all the times life killed me inside,
all the times when i cried out desperately for just ANYONE to listen,
without being shut down.
instead i gave up on you ...
the times when the one i looked up to left me and i felt hopeless i wish i would have known sooner that turning away from you was like loosing myself
i needed you then...
i need you now
now i know without you im nothing that my heart is broken without you.
i need you God.
It's rather cold in here. So I went to check the heat ducts. They were buried beneath a tangle of lies, deceit, and old cookbooks left behind from the family that once lived in this place. It was no easy task, mind you. I dug through the shambles for days - shivering and blowing hot breath into my palms, now coated with a film of forgotten moldy pasta and an affair gone wrong. After a time, though, I finally reached them. And it was not what I expected. It explains the reasons why I am cold...
You see, it wasn't the dead bodies so carelessly crammed in the heat duct that made me cold. The mummified corpses of parents holding their children, the children holding their cat, and the cat holding a half-eaten and long rotted rat inside its stomach. It was what they were whispering. A whisper of a melody of truth that sent a chill so frigid and lifeless so far deep beneath my skin I feared I...'d freeze right inside that heat duct, forever sealed to a fate of the shells before me. It was a traveling tune.
The milk man on 4th and Main heard it as he locked the door of the lonely housewife behind him. The postman felt it resonate in his mind, already crowded with a million voices - many telling him to load his gun and end the monotony. Tears of the local priest fell as he danced to the haunting melody breathed from the mouths of the dead, dancing with his hands on a member sworn to celibacy. A nun in her habit drowning in a habit that only the Lord and the devil know about, she heard it as well and peered cautiously at the others in the convent, criticizing them with her mind knowing full well she wasn't the only one who heard the whispers.
The whispers echoed within this heat duct, within the house, the town...the world. And they were oh so cold....