cold spring day
her daughter's shadow rests
on the tombstone

Haze covers her eyes.
Masks her from seeing anything that is too bright.
Weight pilled on her chest, so much that she is barely breathing.
Barely moving..
She wishes to scream but the pressures to much
and no one would hear her anyway.
She feels like she's drowning...
and although she knows how to swim
the water has the upper hand...
Even though she's barely living
and there are hundreds of people around... no one seems to see
and she likes it better that way.
If no one knows they won't treat her like a freak
if no one knows she has the upper hand
As long as no one knows she's free to pretend.
She's not okay, but she hasn't stopped breathing yet.

Talking long distance to you online
I feel I know you even though we've never met
I know your feelings, your quirks
Your wants, your needs
I love you for who I've come to see plastered on my computer screen.

A thin pane of glass
Sits between you and me
Yet I somehow know
That it is meant to be

Cape North. Ocean surface
Dark as a drowner's despair
Hurling itself against itself
Upon; within and beyond itself.

You can smell the North Pole
On the wind's perpetual threat
Of storms so strong they carry
Ice in their harsh beings.

So unlike Warrnambool; emerald
Waves high-fiveing Australian
Rock over its own undeniable
Beauty. Silver edged green gems

Flowing as from a giant child
Emperor's slain piñata.
Scent of warm ocean rendering
Its perfection even to closed eyes,  

And I stand with one foot on each
Vertical edge of the world.
Thanking. Breathing. Watching.  
Praying to -and for- everything.

You are here with me. Like
Yellow on wasp; feather on bird;
The one thing added making
All else as graceful as itself.

Stars are history lit by lightyears of time
There is one for every being that ever lived
Every blade of grass, every greatest mind
That is why they are uncountable
(The value of life cannot be measured)

Light travels in years and years
Faster than cars every drunken day
It’s no wonder that it starts the planets spinning
Sets the universe in a haphazard dance
(Though music doesn’t conduct in the absence of air)

We don’t see stars like the dinosaurs did
We see stars as they existed back then
A lightyear is a tower with a thousand floors
On every one there’s a doorway filled by glass
(These lives are not yours to live, not yet)

You and me, we’re all condensed explosions
Speckles of supernovas and molecules of galaxies
Humans are a thousand sparks of history
Condensed into one hundred years
(The past repeats because it is always reborn)

Dreams are a symphony played by chance collisions
Seconds in a blink of eternity’s eye
Yet a single thought can flash-bang a revolution
Save a life or take a future
(No matter how you’re small, you really do matter)

We can map space to the edge of our sightline
Make quadrants for fire and roadways for brightness
Though it’s hard to draw lines through thinner than air
To hold electricity in a loop of motion
(Mastery over kinetic does not a monarchy make)

Every day we walk through echoes of motion
Fading into combination and reflecting forensics
Don’t dust for fingerprints, dust for enlightenment
The inspiration in the flowers of a fairy ring
(Eternal dances with skeletons always have the best music)

Shake hands with the ghosts of every stuttering memory
Life is a game played with actions, not words
We the people has always meant people, not person
That’s why East Coast waves echo on West Coast shores
(Midwest sings salt ’n dust chemical rain)

I’ve met people capable of infinite kindness
I’ve been beaten down by unconscious hate
It’s always a game of chess in this world
No one has less than twelve reasons for what they do
(Except with love, which is madness, which doesn’t count)

Every star has a person to belong to
Every past holds hands tight with the future
Every spark has a little bit of kindling
And the crescendo of dreams shifts the world on its foundation
(Burning bright means so much less than helping others catch flame.)

Jaded; spaded ;minds been recreated

Wishin we were back at square one;
Instead I've  resulted to just gettin faded...

This beens done before;; I'm quite familiar with the feeling;;

You promise me your there..Now why does it feel like my hearts breaking instead of healing;;

Your what I fell in love with;;

But This pretty picture that was painted has turned into nothing but a myth..

This boat can't take any more water..
My
Socks are *******
blue....

It's starting to seem you were too good to be fkn true</3

When I'm dying
I want to think back on my life
And see positivity.

I want to see the lives I've touched,
The smiles and laughs I've created
And the thoughts I have provoked.

When I'm dying
I hope to have no regrets,
No fear,
And no pain trapped in my heart.

I need to be purposely positive
Because positivity is contagious
And I want the world to catch it
To stop the suffering.

What will flash through my mind?
Will I smile at the good times?
Or frown at the apology I never gave
Due to my own stubbornness.

When you're dying,
What do you want to see?

When things were bad, she was there.
She wanted things she can't change.
it's within her, its all she knows.

perfection, where shes heading.
she wish she can magically do the right things and be who she wants to be. Not less than that.
she wants to be accepted and wants to belong somewhere. She loved people, places, things.. and she can't move on with all of the love left behind.

'Thats true self harm' she said
proud and self announced
like she could comprehend the universe
and that it left her no challenges

that in her 50 years, she had learnt all people
all feelings
all possibilities
and could now group us all like colours in a jar

i left, because it hurt
to think that after everything i go through to explain
the simpleness of 'some people'
discounts all the effort

there is no wrong and right way to hurt yourself
there is only a future
which we endeavour to make hurt less

Sometimes the monsters that we see in our lives aren't necessarily ugly, gory, nor ******

They could have the most sincere-looking smiles;
Flowing, golden locks;
Bold eyes that almost sparkle they speak about something they're passionate about;
Maybe their teeth are so white and straight that anyone would feel insecure about their own;
Maybe their hobbies and talents are similar to yours, and you think that there's no other person out there who could be better of a friend than them, who also remembers all the lyrics of that Red Hot Chili Peppers song;
They could have cute freckles on their nose, or scars that just make them look that much more awesome to you;
Or maybe this person was a huge part of your childhood, and you think they could never abandon you;
They could seem like a good person because they volunteer, go to Church, or participate in organizations;
Perhaps they're close with your other friends, and there's no way they would pick someone mean to join your group;


They could look similarly to any other person in your life,
But they have a vile heart;
They only became close with you to know all your problems, secrets, goals and dreams, and to crush you from the inside out;
They could pretend to be friends with you, only to benefit from it themselves;
They'll ask you nicely, then rip you apart;
They'll get close with your parents: "Hi Mrs. Ferne, you look lovely today!" And will make your parents wish they were you;
They could talk behind your back, and wish for the moment of your downfall to come as quick as possible;
They could pick at your insecurities and make you feel bad about yourself, then end it with a "I'm just kidding!"

Monsters aren't just in movies;
Even the devil was a beautiful angel once.

honoring the glass artistry of Dale Chihuly

A rainbow of serrated globes,
Friends to the water lilies,
Floats in a sculptured pool.

A surreal yellow glass Medusa
Woven through a white crescent trellis
Gleams in the midday sun.

Choirs of chrysanthemums
Sing with multicolored flora
Blown from molten soda, lime and sand.

Sheltered in a geodesic tropics
Orange herons stand on legs of glass
Amid living palms, bamboo and wild orchids.
Towering blue spires
Lift skyward out of the soil
While butterflies dance
In the misty veil of a waterfall.

Nature and the shimmering world within
Happily converge in the florid vision
Of an effervescent man with a patched eye -
A man called Chihuly.

October, 2006