Quality over Quantity;
but,
when you can:

aim for both.

Try to realize their non-equivalence.

The tone is a human,
a human is a being,
and a being,
is a tone.
The tone is a being.

When one human sings,
they create a tone.
A tone that carries
all tones within.

When two humans sing,
they create two tones.
Two tones that carry
all tones within.

They are making love,
They are making a harmony,
and the harmony
is a child.

The union of two,
the child carries all
the vibrations of one,
and all of the other.

Every harmony carries
all harmonies within.

The child is one,
The child is twice one,
The child is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.

The harmony is a child,
and the child sings.

The child is human,
and the human grows.

When a human sings
they create a tone.
This tone carries
all tones within.

The tone is a being.

The being is one,
The being is twice one,
The being is half of each,
and infinitely more than none.

Each being carries all beings within.

When the being sings,
it creates a tone,
this tone carries
all tones within.

there was a girl in class
who had a perfect punctuality report
but always seemed absent to me

and so i asked,
“when you’re in class,
seated a few seats away from me,
where are you really?”

and her eyes spoke

she was not here on earth

she was on the moon,
drinking up the sight of
stars and suns

she was on a distant planet,
fighting up robots
and fiends trying to destroy earth

she was on the sun,
roasting marshmallows
with all the other pretty alien girls

she was everywhere,
she said

she was everywhere
but here

because here was where
reality took place

and reality was no place
for the wandering kind

thinking only of work
- eating my own business
minding my food

and manners

people small talking too
loudly with mouths full

- best get back and busy

- all this talk of ebola
isis and clowns with machetes -

slender man and little girls
- kidnapped girls forgotten

collateral damage
- somewhere else
someone else's -

hard to concentrate
on  important things
like metrics and data calls -

site density- history
- work things and holidays -
you know

i should buy pumpkins
on the way home today

- halloween is coming soon.

r ~ 10/15/14

I've been waiting out these rainy days
with my head down
and my ears waiting eagerly for your call

I had my own whimsical hopes about you
and how maybe we could be
because I liked the way you don't say much
and how you only smile if someone actually deserves it
and when you sit alone in the farthest corner of the gardens
because it's exactly where you wished to be

I was captivated by your mystery
and the possibilities I had told myself were more than a good chance
My hopes built higher after you mentioned one evening alone together
they peaked, and pointed to a plateau of so much fantasy I could finally see clearly

There is always a caveat in these situations
and mine starts with a but,
but, you rarely look at me when I speak
but, you never even held my hand
but, you never ask about me
but, I can hardly get a word in when we're alone
but, I can't be with someone who doesn't value me

I've spent my entire life building up fantastical stories and telling myself that boys liked me because it was the only way that I could feel like I was worth something.
My main objective for as long as I can remember has been changing myself to make it easier for people to receive me,
but i'm not a ******* package waiting to be delivered to price charming's doorstep just so he can open me up, use me, and throw me aside.
No longer will I pretend that I am not a whole being.
The parts of me that are not soft and pink are still worth something.
I have baggage and rough patches but I think those scars are beautiful.
My thoughts may come out scattered but they're still worth hearing,
and I cannot go chasing down the love of someone who doesn't care to understand that I am more than just a sum of a few pretty parts.

For one poem I shared here at HP
I got 55 views of which 5 were hearts -
hey, what happened to the 50?
OK, I don't expect all readers
to like the poems I post
so maybe HP -
to give readers a choice -
could introduce other buttons like:

DISLIKE
HATE
DESPISE
F _ _ _
YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
DESPICABLE
DID NOT READ BUT I CLICKED LIKE
WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED


and so  then I might get a better view
of each of my poems, for example:

55 views

5 LIKE
20 F _ _ _
10 DESPICABLE
6 YOU CALL THIS POETRY?
10 DID NOT READ
BUT I CLICKED LIKE
4 WENT TO SLEEP HALFWAY
0 WORTHY OF BEING PLAGIARIZED

so I brought my writer wife
(prominently pregnant)
to the hospital
and on her bed, she screamed:
"weren't" "hasn't" "couldn't" "shan't"
"aint" "hadn't" "you're" "isn't"
"aren't" "didn't" "wasn't"
"who's?" "what's?" "he's" "she's"

The doctors were confounded
and they turned to me and they said:
"What the hell is she doing?"

And I replied with double speed
and a violent sense of urgency:
*"Don't you know?
She's having contractions -
she's a writer"

Nostalgia steadily flows in
A constant trickle,
I'm filled with dreadful longing
Yearning
For what?
My heads been locked in a maze
Everything I once knew..
It fades in and out
Once again I'm left searching..
For something that does not exist
And yet I find myself convinced it does
Yearning for crimson, indigo, passion, and woe
What a magnificent thing it is to feel, to experience, to live
The days drag on and moods shift with the tides
I want to be static, unchanging, firm
A tree with it's roots solid,
Connected to the world
Instead I'm sea foam
Set adrift
Forced to roam
I'll never give up yearning for home