One: never listen to Bon Iver
when making important life decisions
Two: appreciate sleepy grey cities
and their buttery suburbs because
you will miss them like hell
once you have to leave for good
Three: when in a car on the first
snowy night in December with that
boy you like, kiss him hard on the mouth
even though your mother's watching
Four: regret can make you ill
Five: indulge several minutes each day
to patch yourself up--rub your heels,
clean your fingernails, squeeze
the fat on your hips tenderly
Six: you'll find your way back home
somehow, but in the meantime
continue to press on
we are spinning in a sea of cotton cloth
and swirling hues of happiness
the joy - contagious!
as you arrive
a wave of excitement hits us.
there's no need for clumsy intoxication -
we're drunk off good feelings.
this is the party of all parties
one that will never be blacked out.
you will not question what happened tonight,
but you will ask, "was it real?"
don't worry about a ride home -
we'll sleep under the starlit sky
music booms out of the trees
we have the moon and white christmas lights
strung against the contrasting skies
to guide our dancing feet.
who cares what style?
we dance through it all -
hips sway and arms reach up to kiss open air.
never will we forget this night.
leave your phones at home,
to disconnect is the only way to be connected.
there are no clocks -
a girl with stars in her eyes tells you,
"out with time!"
we go barefoot here,
for the moss kisses our feet so gently.
there is a piano over there, between two oak trees,
and we play our favorite songs
and partner up to half-stumble-half-waltz
to classical sounds.
when our feet grow tired
we make s'mores and tell stories
of our collective past.
do not worry,
for tonight we embrace our youth,
and toast to a brave new world.
I hide behind a blue sky
Saw the birds flying in the current, high
Wishing for some star shine
I really love the morning time
Yet here I am inside
On the couch, with a slouch, hoping for a way out
When the door is right in front of me
But I'm convinced I'm too busy
I am climbing the digital tree
Forgetting to breathe
When I want to smell the airy breeze
Come up for air and stay there
Soul open, eyes closed, alert and aware
I imagined a place where...
I go to close the screen, but I hesitate
Is today really the day?
Couldn't I just sit here a while
Another year, read another mile
Like this, post that, fake a smile
Until I forget this epiphany ever existed
This future I've too long resisted
Now my mind and body is twisted
Unaligned and with no compromise
Or a sign things will be alright
It's a leap of faith, I read it all the time
Stay in the present, unravel the twine
Meditate often, remember your past lives
Stretch, Run, Play, repeat, then rewind
To release your fears and let in the light
To be out there and catch the sunrise
You're not alone, you know it's time to go
A moment can last forever
These pathways stay together
The brain is a place of endeavors
Where you can forget to remember
But when two halves become as one, trust inside
The words that speak from between your eyes
Let in spirit lest the ego try
To find a foothold in your mind
Start with the stars, and then the sunrise
Look up at the clouds and follow the silver line
Let me show you love,
In my own exotic way,
Let me show you life.
We argued over that Marc Bolan record
That I knew wasn’t mine anyway
We argued over that Marc Bolan record
It’s my demented way of passing the day
I love to see the lines on your forehead appear
They run so incredibly deep
I love to see the lines on your forehead appear
When you’ve got the bit between your teeth
So when I hear ride a white swan
I can’t help but think of your face
Fighting your corner for T.Rex
That cosmic dancer in outer space
he seeks shelter from the rain
in the coffee shop
she offers him a cup of joe
she offers a moment to reflect
the hipsters and hangers about
fill her world with sight and sound
fill her senses with smiles and joy
but inside she know she needs something more
that this place is just an emblem
and cannot sustain a soul like her
she could have anything
she just need ask
but she cant find the words to describe
cant find an image to convey
her souls need
but its clear to him
its a ship sailing to distant spain
its a road leading out into a western desert
its a train rolling thru a dark stormy night to a northern town
its a footpath thru mist
its a man seeking shelter from the rain
he leaves with her smile
which she gave with a hopefull heart
wrestle with the shadows in his heart
but its her face that lingers
in the late hour
in this last time he will stand
the standards of the champions
the fighters for truth
and the ones too dark to do else but die
they gather in harsh light
and prepare to do battle and stand their ground
a prince of the beasts proud and fair
a champion to the ones who have no strength to call their own
the frame of time captures only the movement
but the fickle thought of who he is
prince of beasts proud and fair
champion of the clean linen uniform
regal bearer of the standard of a rising sun
reflected only in the young eyes
those cheering champions like him on from the side
but its only her smile that lingers for him
as his life flows spent onto the sand
she never did catch that train
never did escape that shop
never did grow beyond the borders
of the hipsters and hangers on
but least they loved her too
in their way
and that is some comfort
August 12, 1993
This is the third diary I have written in
This diary must be famous
So maybe oneday
Someone will hear or at least read my story
By the way my name is Rebeka
Weird spelling right?
August 13, 1993
Just heard some bad news...
I can't believe it
16 years old and pregnant!
The "father" is a dead beat
Ran after I said I might be
I can't keep the child
I don't know what to do
August 15, 1993
I wrote my first poem
One of my friends said it would help
I just wrote and wrote
I almost wrote a book
I wonder what I'm going to do with this child
Aborting it would be painful
Giving it up is almost impossible
Having it is unlikely
I have so much going for me
April 20, 1993
Found out one of my friends loves me
He knows I'm pregnant
He said he would help me
He always has a plan
Maybe I can be happy with him
I don't know
I don't want to bring him down
Diary...what should I do?
April 23, 1993
Still no reply?
I forgot I'm asking an inanimate object
To answer a question
I was forced to ask because of my stupidity
I have poor taste in men
I'm now called distastefully
Rebecca the 16 year old pregnant whore
My boyfriend is really annoyed with it
I hope I can love him as much as he loves me
April 30, 1993
I cut myself
The girls at school keep harrassing me
I can't take this
I forgot how many weeks I am now
I just want this baby out
I don't want it
It's causing to much stress
Diary...help me please
September 18, 1993
I lost you for a while
Can't believe you were right here
Underneath my bed covered by my favorite shirt
That now I can't wear anymore
I look like a cow
School is horrid
I almost beat one of my teachers with a textbook
He called me "Rebecow"
September 21, 1993
I just got dumped by the man I love
He said I didn't love him enough
That I was wieghing him down
I can't believe this
I haven't stopped crying since 12 last night
Why does everything have to go wrong with me?
Am I that broken?
That big of a fuck up?
September 29, 1993
I have just successfully planned my suicide
The title of this diary says "Diary Of Broken Souls"
It should say "Diary Of Suicidal Souls"
I just read the other 402 other entries
That many people...dead...murdered...by cruelty
Might as well join them
My bullshit is just about the same
October 8, 1993
Halloween is just around the corner
And with it comes my death
No more baby
No more mother bitching
No more father crying at the sight of me
Well the tears will be for a different reason now
I'll write my last entry on Halloween
October 31, 1993
Today is the day
Finally coming to an end
I'll kill this baby first
Swallow a shit load of pain killers
Throw in a couple anti-depressants
Noose is tied just perfectly
I have it hanging over the school entry way
A little memorial for the girls at school
All the students actually
Who have called me names
Criticized me for this shit
Well good bye bitches
Sorry Diary you didn't get to know me
I'll be memorialized in these pages
Somebody will know what it's like
To be 16, pregnant, and depressed from all of it
it’s 2 am
we’re sitting in your car, squeezing in the front seat.
you’re holding me in your big arms
you look at me, wild eyed and restless and whisper,
“i love you. and i don’t want to lose you.”
so i looked away and fought back my tears
i held your hand, but then quickly let go.
“but you don’t intend on keeping me either. do you?”
and to that you had no response
so we continued to lay there in silence
because i know you don’t love me.
or maybe you do, and maybe it’s just in a way that i don’t understand.
we always hurt the ones that we love
so maybe you just love me too much.
i can’t wake up in the morning without you on my mind.
it troubles me to think that we might not be meant for each other.
or this entire time you are just a dream.
if you are, how could my mind ever create a creature so beautiful?
a human so perfect.
you come to me with every unbalanced emotion
but i know if i ever show up at your door,
wild eyed and restless,
you will not show me sympathy or let me in.
you will tell me to go home.
A vehicle rumbled along a sorry excuse for a road,
A convoy trailing behind it
A soldier looked out his window
Watching the dust swirl up in clouds beneath the
Heavy vehicle's tires
He said nothing to his partner and they rode in silence
He, thinking of his perfect baby
Whom he had not yet gotten to feel the warmth of
In his arms
And his partner, he was sure
Had nothing but the image of his fiancée racing through his mind
She was all he ever talked about
They were close
As close as a pair of friends could possibly be
But rides were becoming increasingly more solemn
Unspoken yearning for home had become almost unbearable
These days the soldier missed home so much
And longed so badly for his wife's warm embrace
That he swore he could feel his heart aching
The solemn silence was broken as something caught the soldier's eye
The convoy came to a halt
The soldier jumped from his vehicle
His boots making a hard thud on the ground below
He called to a group of Afghani children who had been
Collecting shell casings they would later exchange for food
In the middle of the convoy's path
The children looked up, alarmed
And scurried away
The rumble of the military vehicles again resounded
Through the desert
And the convoy continued on its way
At the men in the strange uniforms
With the huge trucks,
A little Afghani girl
Caught a glimpse of the sunlight
Bouncing off of something
In the middle of the road
She rushed into the street to collect it
Thinking only of how pleased
Her mother would be
With all the money they would earn
From her painstaking hunt
The soldier saw the young girl
Dart into the path of the convoy
And leapt from the vehicle
The girl looked up in terror
As she saw the big trucks
The soldier leapt into
Of the oncoming sixteen-ton vehicle
Toppling the girl to the ground
As she sat up, out of the path of the convoy
Dusting her self off and
Trying to comprehend
What had just taken place
She looked into the road searching for her
And saw it
Reflecting the desert sunlight
Just inches from the still form
Of the soldier
Who had just
People the world over suffer
They suffer from:
Hard circumstances, warring institutions,
Famine, lack of education,
Drugs and abuse, poverty, the list is endless.
But they are also addicted...addicted to hope.
Hope that things will improve
Hope that their dreams will one day be realized
Hope that what is so hard will finally be a hurtle passed
Hope is their mind's addiction, the fuel for whatever
It is they are striving for
If the temporary satiation of a drug is finally found,
Then their hope for the drug and their hope for the feeling
And their hope for the escape from reality are fueling them.
If they are struggling to make ends meet, to feed themselves,
clothe their children, escape the debt collector, find a place to sleep
Their hope is to not to have to face these same issues
Every day for as many days as they have living.
If suffering from illness, they hope for healing or death
Hope is their addiction when the young children sit in hot, enclosed spaces
Ill, hungry, malnourished, traumatised
Hope for something better, better than what is before them
Hopelessness is acceptance, it is living in the day to day
Knowing what is is, what can't be changed can't be changed
what can be changed for the better,
Well steps towards that then are slowly taken
And the absolute beauty of life, the wonder of these moments
Begin to sparkle and shine in a way that is subtly impressive
Small is sometimes the most beautiful of all
it is solid, it is simple, it is a sturdy brick upon which one can
Always grasp and stand upon...over and over and over
Refreshing and truly adventurous
To see the nature and artifice of the path one is walking
Realizing that each step is a changing landscape
Of environment, perspective, emotion, situation
When one is down they look up with hope, their addiction solidly in place,
To get to the top of the mountain for a finer view
An accomplishment and relief at having succeeded
but the top is always just the pinnacle
And hope to remain affixed in such a perilous place
Is not in actuality possible
Be it a very violent gust that blows you off,
For we all know the wind vortices are something fierce in mountainous terrain,
Or a misstep, a loss of footing as the ground suddenly whithers away,
Perhaps the grasping hands of others trying to join you,
Their hope addiction now at an all-time high because they
Are. Right. There.
Clawing like animals for the last little handhold to hoist themselves up
And in shouldering themselves into a stand,
They accidentally knock you off, or not accidentally perhaps.
Whatever the case, hope addiction swings back into full force
and if it doesn't motivate, it at least satiates the mind
But hope addiction is also deceptive,
It rallies the wild dreams and ignites the heart with delusions
When hopelessness and acceptance and disconnect are a wiser course
For to live on hope addiction alone is not sustaining
It isn't real.
When alternatives and different paths may be wiser, better
To begin walking upon for now
Hope addiction can be misleading, blinding
He beauty of hopelessness is looking then without the hope addiction
At the possibility that this new path, albeit much different from the other
Is only visible up to a few steps ahead
Does it curve? Does it stop? Does it merge further down
With the original path or perhaps another different one?
Hope addiction...I have been addicted to hope
We all have, it is beautiful and it is scary
I live in hopelessness...content, happy, busy, progressing, adventurous, never knowing what little chocolate from the box of life my day is going to taste like.
I must admit though, one a day is not enough to really enjoy a full day...fully.