My laptop's
harddrive
sounds like gears
grinding.

I think
its time
will be soon.

How sadly mortal
these machines.

Announced
in glory,
soon they die
in obscurity.

I'd feel sad
if I didn't
hate them so.
  ~mce

Well, for only the second time since I bought this thing, (my laptop), I have moved it from its' fan pad to join me in my favorite spot.

And I am currently wondering whether the cigarette ashes that may fall into it while I type could light the **** thing on fire, for which i would just have to laugh since I have no back up CD made yet, and for what it's worth, my life's work is on this harddrive. I need to quit smoking. The **** commercials you hear on the radion have me deemed a murderer, so now I don't listen to the radio either. I am strictly a CD girl now. One of these days I may catch up a bit and get an IPOD, but I am beginning to think the devil uses all this technology to make real relationships a thing of the past.

I also am missing my mouse out here. I am pretty sure if this use this little fingertip pad long enough, I could teach Braille to a 1 year old.

This is the first time in weeks I have actually used my swing for any duration, and you know what, I miss it. It is kind of hard to type on it though as it sits next to me and rocks a bit with every letter I type.

I've decided, for now, to stop my foolish searching for the meaning of everything, and the end all to everything. For now, I'm just gonna live..day to day..hour by hour...second into the next.

Up until about a year ago, I didn't even know how much I liked to swing, or how much I love to fly kites, or look at Dogwoods, or read philosophy, or even write poetry. I took a detour, a very long one, into a mind sedentary world with no hope, no dreams, no happiness.

And unfortunately, the only way out is the way I came in, which will take me as long to get beck to where as I started, as it took me to get here.

I love to feel the strong breeze that's blowing today. I felt it earlier while taking a walk, and going to the park, but then it was blowing while the sun beat straight down. Now I am in the shade and leaves are blowing onto the deck, and I swear if I had that hammock I keep promising myself to buy, I would be falling asleep on it right now. The kids are gone, daughter at a friends house, and son at grandmas next door. I put the puppies on their leads, and it is only me here right now. It's been forever since that happened too.

I need to get back to me...and I need to stop putting so many demands on myself. If I feel like going to the beach...I should just get in the car and go. I deserve that.. I deserve to smile and laugh and drink my coffee and talk to strangers like I know them  while they look at me like I'm crazy. I deserve friendship. I deserve and desire the love of friends.

Companionship, shared intellect and joys. Freedom. You know I could sit for hours and hours, maybe even days..if I had the liberty and just enjoy nature, and not really think of anything at all. Sometimes it feels like people and responsibilities get in the way of what I was truly meant to be and the things I truly want to do. I wish there was a place where I could just be, you know be...BE.

And one day I want to see my soul in someone elses eyes and just know without question that I'm not so different. That I'm connected somehow, with someone or something, and that I'm not really crazy. That I'm me and I am exactly what I was meant to be and I'm beautiful because I am me. I don't want to adapt to anything or want anyone to adapt to me. I just want to find the place where I fit perfectly.

But the never ending searching for this place has proved unsuccessful. So I believe the answer is to wait for clarity. And it will come. It will come, I know it will. As for now, I'm going to enjoy my coffee in the breeze...on my swing, and just close my eyes and breathe in the wind.

Hey Mommy?

When I type bat instead of cat, do the letters get mad at me?

Is it a vacation, a retirement to the land far away,
full of words I’ll never get to know,
or did I send them away to crumble into pixels?

Is that forgotten apology chopped up
into little pieces in the back of the computer,
a plastic box under the harddrive
that Daddy gets to clean out
when he refills the printer ink?

I want to read the book filled with all the lost letters,
the one where my fourth-grade book report
comes after the job application you were never qualified for,
but just before the neighbor’s college essay,
deleted so his own Mommy could help him.

Hey Mommy?

Can I ever check on them?

I hope they turn into a book about superpowers.

I’d be sad if these keys turned into nothing more
than a scrapped poem or a forgotten apology.

Hey Mommy?

I miss the forgotten letters.

Do you think they ever miss me?

I'm watching a documentary about a company that makes What they call "*** robots."
The male one is called "Harry Harddrive"
He has a huge *****
And no tongue
Seems like a waste of money to me
(Eleven thousand dollars!)

He writes songs to the world like letters in the post,
He mails them by bird and they stay in the sky for winds to carry, delivered on a doorstep
It landed in my harddrive
I download it to my mainware and nothing but the emptiness of throat can save
For more, he commands I write back to omniscience of a third-person view,
A second-hand first-person perspective of how your words tingle with the tip
Of the imagined blue veil that only comes across this white page when I look away
(Getting closer to black when I turn away, fading from view as I create myself when seen)
When I look away, my peripheral, an indirect source
Filter it through beads, a field you are, the field beyond our reach, reaching everywhere
The field for me to push through and spin through and move through
No flipping, spinning, consistent flux of illusion
I breathe these hymns into the blue candle and my eyes
Will be dedicated to the fairness of The light
Close our curtains to feel the wings, the much subtler wings
That flap and sail us on through milky gaseous molasses to unending potential
My blue candle awaits your confirmation, awaits your acceptance
Because the flame represents the mystery behind your drowned eyes
And foggy speech as the smoke draws up into the sphere above me, never evaporating
And I hear to feel your lucidities, your technicalities,
And it is math to me, and models to you

And like models to you, mold me like clay, Potter
Draw me out in lines and in numbers and in other things from the foreseeable Now
You can create me out of anything
Of the sound, to think of the ‘were’ and the ‘when’
But never the present-future to be substantial enough
To break away my devotion to a gray area
The continuation from black to blue to white
Meeting in the middle
Stuck in the middle
Where you are I see, where you are I follow
Stretched by the prongs of time to stream like rivers and it
Ripples like a paradise that I could imagine still
Oscillating toward the pearls you harnessed
Out of me comes nothing but in me everything goes
Bleakness surrounds and now I am wrong for being on my knees
To pray and to beg and to show you my life
And I am swimming the wrong way, opposite and backward each limb flies
Into a different stream
I go nowhere to be nowhere

No need for flashy love and like the water
To bead and drip and to become sloshed together
Like a mistake for creation
My transformation forces two bodies into one soul victim of splicing
I see this all and weep because what is it? Why do I write this way?
Pitiful and pathetic my mind assumes and I make up for it by showing off
The newer ways my soul reaches out of my skin,
The new protruding mountain peak and the new depth of a valley
Bluer waters to float you and cooler sips of wind to take
This is how she shows me the illusions that take hold
A CONFUSED LITTLE GIRL
She forms them with her motions she seizes them with her sound
She shows me levitation and how they stand so tall
Another one, *****, another one! *****, show me all!