Oh California!
How my heart burns for you,
how beautiful you are!
The greenest trees and the most picturesque beaches.
The soft sands of the desert,
and the rolling slopes of the foothills.
My body, my mind, my spirit, all belong to you, oh Great and Wonderful! California.
Your hills are on fire,
scarring the beauty of your curves.
Your rivers run dry,
suffocating the green into brown.
How my heart cries for you! Oh dry, oh burning, oh how relentless this war against you, oh California! And there is no relief in sight, winter promises no respite, and the summer will be long and tough and dry like the ones before and before and before.
Oh California!
How I tremble, how I shake in awe,
your sun burns a bright orange,
smoke fills your sunsets,
even fire cannot detract from your beauty!
Oh cleansing rains!
Oh cleansing El Niño!
Oh how I beg you to save California!
My California!
My roots go deeper than that of the greatest redwood, California is my home, and not the most fearsome of fires could cause me to leave, not the fiercest and most ruthless of droughts could scare me away!
Oh California!
Let my tears be absorbed by your thirsty soil!
Let my body one day feed your hungry crops!
Oh California! I am yours, to the very last.
God bless California!
God bless the desert and the mountains!
God bless the foothills and the valleys!
God bless the beaches and the forests!
God bless my home and spare it from the relentless.
California is my God, and I hope she hears my prayers!
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Long ago,
there lived the most beautiful princess and her name was Ornia. She was loved by her people, and she loved them back. On the day she was to crowned queen a terrible cancer appeared in the heart of the mountain she called home.
She prayed to the Spirit of the Sun and the Spirit told her the mountain is sick, because there is not enough love being returned to it, only love being taken from it.
Ornia, feeling her heart heavy and bursting with love, crawled through many cracks and fissures in the mountain until she reached the center.
There she released her heart from her chest, wove the vessels into the cancerous ones of the mountain and cured it.
Still, silent, she lies there, feeding the mountain love.
The people so loved her and recognized her sacrifice they named the mountain after her: Calif-Ornia.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
You're no further away than you were before, but the high tide is in and I accidentally slipped my floaty onto the train with you, and I'm afraid of drowning.
It was so easy to love you and maybe that's why it's so hard now.
Before, thinking of you brought feelings of peace, well being, contentment.
And now, through no fault of yours (rather through the faults of a jealous heart beating in my chess) when I think of you it's always marked with feelings of sadness, anger, and (naturally, I suppose) jealousy.
I'm gasping for breath,
I have no floaty pulling me to the surface.
The shore I left from is a lot closer than the one I wish to reach, and I don't know if I should swim back, keep going, or drown.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
I guess my first girlfriend and my mother were right in coloring me a hopeless romantic.
You effect me so deeply,
you're thousands of stone throws away
and I can still feel you choking me.
I miss you
like the low tide misses the beach,
only I don't have the nautical reassurance of knowing I'll see you again.
You're childish, rash, and prone to injuries; physical and otherwise.
You're so many beautiful things and you're a few ugly things and I wouldn't trade you for the greenest grass, the sweetest peach, or the everlasting nothingness of death.
I'd trade my assurance of death for your touch, for your whisperings in my ear, for your hairs in my bed.
I hate myself for feeling like this,
I'm disgusted in myself for writing this.
I wanted to tell you about my day today, it was wonderful, it was magical, it was sober and I did not grieve your absence; in fact, I didn't note it.
The sadness comes in waves.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
And everyday I wake up,
take a swig from the big cup.
I know I gotta get ahold of myself,
understand that it's bad for my health
but you know,
you've been down here before,
and you got out,
put some money in your pocket
and decided you didn't owe me a cut.
Don't tell me it's too late
you know I can't wait.
I think it's best that you know
the depths are so far below,
yeah
and you know
nobody wants to go
until it's time to go.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
From here on out its Season 2.
None of us really knew what we were doing, how about you?
Under rocks, in fields, along the NID ditch.
Something's gotta give; strung out and hung up to dry, we try and we try.
Rub aloe on my cheeks and I'll try not to cry. Throw me into space and I'll try not to die.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
I knew i would have to say goodbye when I said hello and I thought that was painful enough.
I let myself love you,
I had a choice and this was the first time it was difficult to love someone.
Not because of you
but because of your near departure.
I sleep in the same bed, but it's not mine anymore, it's your.
It'll be a few weeks before all your hairs are stripped from the sheets
And it'll be a lot longer before I stop loving you.
You want to believe and I want to believe and I didn't lie the first time I told you I'd see you again and I don't intend on ever lying to you.
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Listen:
I say today is a beautiful day to exist.
You're existing;
you're waiting for the bus in the heart of San Fransisco.
You're painting a landscape of Penn Valley.
You're selling hashish in Portland.
What a beautiful existence!
I'm washing my sheets,
I'm smoking a cigarette,
I'm reading The Return of the King,
and I'm about to go to work.
Listen:
The cars on the highway are going somewhere.
There are people in those cares who are existing just as gracefully as you and me.
Listen:
They are existing just as harmoniously as you and me.
Listen:
They have no idea what happens to them when they die.
I jumped off a forty foot cliff into the Yuba River a week ago and my last thought before hitting the water was:
'Either I'll live and that will be one hell of a jumping rock or I'll die and be free from ignorance.'
Listen:
I don't want to die, but I'm excited to.
I'm more excited to live and I get to see you tomorrow! I get to hold your tiny hands in mine, a barista and a norcal gardener (if you know what I mean)
Listen:
I love you and I love you and I love you and I didn't lie, I didn't, I told you I'd see you again and here we are two hundred and thirty seven miles away and tomorrow I will see you.
Listen:
Praise automobiles, praise gasoline,
praise hip hop music and praise hashish, I get to see you tomorrow!
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 2:36 PM UTC
Body
Two bodies,
in a bed,
on a quilt in a field,
in the backseat of an '88 Nissan Pathfinder.
Two bodies,
touching,
squeezing,
caressing,
biting.
Blood,
pooling under the skin,
rushing to the brain,
rushing to the genitals,
sticky/hot.
****** candy,
the curve of lips around a lollipop,
the drinking of whiskey from the bottle,
the burning sensation of MDMA insufflation.
Clothes strewn across your mother's kitchen,
ice cubes traced down spines, ******* ********
Oral *** with ice cubes in the mouth.
Frequent ************ and a sense of unwellbeing, if you'll allow me this one usage of an unword (I can't help myself)
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
I have love for every living thing on earth,
and this includes you, I'm sure.
You are fickel and flickering,
like the drugs you use,
and I feel so much love from you regardless.
Regardless of how you're feeling,
regardless of what happened to you on this day,
you have me feeling so incredibly loved
and so incredibly loving
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC