don't love a writer
unless you can handle the truth
of the way they see your very existence
in the eyes of a poet,
a novelist,
a songwriter.
unless you, yourself, are willing to hear
the pencil moving to your name,
exposing secrets that only you two shared,
revealing hurt and laughter in rhythm and rhyme.
unless you know about the love letters
written to you but never sent
to express their yearning to hold your hand,
to kiss those lips,
to fall asleep next to you throughout the chilling night.
unless you know that your name isn't bob or joan,
or eric or melissa,
but that's how they wrote you in their novels,
marking the day you both met.

don't love a writer
unless you can handle the ache they feel
when they see you with someone else.
when they hear you laugh from afar,
but never with them.
when they allow themselves to be broken by you,
and you will never read their diaries written on napkins.
when they know you love another,
and yet still they want to hold you in their arms,
to kiss you,
to love you,
to write volumes about you.
when they promise themselves to stop writing
because the love poems have shadows of pain
and their novels go on, never ending.
when they break their hearts for you,
and let it bleed over paper and stitch it with words
to handle another day without you.

don't love a writer
until you've read their heart.

I write and I write
Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days
I write for fun, I write for therapy
I write because It's all I might ever be.

My writings are my thoughts.
Some lovely, some scarring.
With a pencil in my hand and paper in front of me,
writing away the monsters is the only way I can be saved,
at least for a little while, saved from reality.

I write and I write
Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days
I write when I'm happy, I write when I'm sad.
Like that, I will keep on writing, non-stop,
till I'm dead.

the comforting warmth of the morning sun,
like I had known it from the days of yesteryears.
the familiar scent of dew-kissed grass,
a fresh aroma that brought forth the tide of gratitude laden tears.

I had foreseen the day to be just as before...
I had planned to play out my morning as I had rehearsed.
but your message had foiled all that I thought I knew...
it brought about the smile that eternity had kept pursed.

your words were laced with the flowers of spring...
they set at ease the unapparent apprehension I've always kept.
they spoke of compliments meant only for the worthiest quills,
I've read them in disbelief as I think not of myself, an adept...

truly you are one that's generous and so very kind.
for your words flew off the page and had struck home;
bearing the stoutest of hope and most selfless of wishes.
they had provided direction in these vague circles that I roam.

so now allow me to thank you dear poetess...
for drawing the sunrise clear into my view.
I shall revel and bask in its delightful rays...
because your words had painted today in the brightest hue...

My friend is gone
We’ve gone our ways
So here’s a toast
For better days

I see your face
From time to time
Your heart beats loud
Along with mine

But I walk alone
Because life moves fast
Each day is gold
It won’t last

Enjoy the place
And people too
In the end
They’ll get you through

In this life
Or in the next
God, I know
Will give us rest

When I’m gone, please
Speak well of me

All you folks in paper hats,
You think paper's where it's at.
Paper suits and paper ties,
Don't you know that paper lies?
Paper silver, paper gold,
Paper's bought and paper's sold.
Does paper have any worth?
It's just a tree cut from the earth.
Your god is Almighty Paper,
Presidents are your deal makers...

Paper lions, paper hearts,
In the end they're torn apart.
Paper tigers, paper souls,
Punch them and they're full of holes.
Paper masks and paper streamers,
All you are are paper dreamers.

Whatever happened to your returns?
Don't you know that paper burns?
Some CEO's are thieves and liars,
Out there startin' forest fires!
Where's the nest egg of older folk?
Their retirement's up in smoke!
Greed is what we're talkin' here,
And all it is is paper fear.

"Will I keep up? Is mine the best?"
They're just kids in paper vests.
"If you don't leave my paper alone,
I'll just take my paper home..."

Paper boats and paper toys,
For paper girls and paper boys,
Paper backs and paper chase,
'Fraid you'll lose the paper race?
Paper masks and paper schemers,
All you are are paper dreamers.

Deep inside, your spirit screams!
There's no substance to your dreams!
All you are is dust and spit?
H2O and dirt...That's it?
Don't you feel that hole inside?
Put away your paper pride!
What will happen when you die?
When you find it's all a lie?!
You know I'm telling you the truth.
You've wasted your life,
you've lost your youth.
If you've a question, why not ask it?
Just more paper for your basket?
Magazines, newspapers, what's in print?
More paper for the Treasury's mint?

C'mon people! Lets get real!
This is not Let's Make A Deal!!

Door #1, or 2, or 3?!!!

Is that how you deal with ETERNITY?

You'd better be sure you're on the dime,
Cuz eternity's a long, LONG time.

Paper wings? Or paper veils?
Paper heads, or paper tails?

Keep life in a paper cup?
Guess what?

Your time is UP.


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) March 8, 2009