Do I love you too much?
Am I supposed to feel this much?
Because every time I think your happiness might be
In the slightest way impeded or stopped,
My heart lies smitten, its beats off and tormented,
The muscle itself not knowing whether
It has enough strength to continue with
The next beat.  What is there to live for
If you are not happy?  
If tears fall down your face, who am I to smile?
If your mind is tormented by nightmares,
Who am I to lose myself in daydreams?
If you’re anxious about the world,
Who am I to enter it with confidence?
Because I truly love you, I have no choice
But to put your happiness over my own.
It feels as natural as that favorite shirt,
The perfect opening to a novel,
Sunlight streaming through the window on an unmade bed.  It feels so perfect, so right, that I can’t help
But shed tears when you do,
Experience terror during your nightmares,
To wallow in your uncertainty.  
Do I love you too much?  
Am I supposed to feel this much?  
Because I do.

the keyboard
the pen
the pencil
the notebook
the computer
all the magic is here
all the magic runs through my mind
it travels down my veins
i can't stop thinking
it keeps going
i keep using my tools as wands
and.
i've fallen in love
with two concepts:

the story

and the writing.

Lights sputter,
Ringing in your ears,
Held tight in hope's embrace.

Tears pour,
Muffled screaming,
Everything you knew is gone.

Ground is shaking,
Dust in your fingernails,
Blood on your arms,
Curled up, you pray this isn't real.

A bright flash.
Silence.
Nothing.

What happened?

~Robert van Lingen

------------
A poetic prologue to One Year,
a short novel by Robert van Lingen

Poor old Howard.
He's a Cornflake coward.
Jumps art the sound
Of each crunch
And brittle bite.
Giving up the fight,
In his act of
Guttless confession.

His mother was a
Breadcrumb beater.
His dad was a
Post box persecuter.
His sister a sadistic
Spider spinner.
And each night they
Ate cornflakes for
Dinner.

Cornflake coward;
No need stress at
Their crunchiness.
In time; milk
Will soften their design.
Giving you a chance to
Chill and recline.

Spent all day.
looking for the perfect
thing to say.
but I guess these words,
will have to do.

None the less,
if a heart can ever
speak in jest;
This joke is for you.

It's all I need do.
Gather all the words
I could say.
They're less than perfect,
but so's any day.

Sum of the less,
if a mouth can ever
hide in jest;
a punchline for you.

You cannot deny;
this, then or why.
that little contridiction.
Incocistancy,
so constantly.
No need to know me.

let me wallow a while,
deep in my own dirt denial.
As a preposterous,
Hypicritapotamaus.

I won't lie;
exasperated sigh.
It's my own personal truth.
patiently,
so blatantly;
light won't show me.

let me wallow a while,
deep in my own dirt denial.
As a preposterous,
Hypicritapotamaus.

From the soul backed to the precipice of a life never changing,
Through the crest of an almond shape and cascading over an apple fullness,
Fall the tiny tributes of hopelessness;
Until she is offered
Tulips for her tears.

That tingle that starts from an electric spark
That tingle that sparks from a broken heart!

Thats new love!

Sometimes I just wish I could hug you.
Like a sweet little novel I've been dying to read, I wish to read you, all over, front and back, spine to paper.
And yes, often times, I just wish I could wrap you up in a roll of oozing vanilla and breathe the moment in.
I wish I could tell you that you're worth more than the girl who left you standing on you front porch with a lingering love.
Sometimes, I wish that your eyes would softly rest upon mine and feel peace in knowing your life is not complete with her, but rather complemented, perhaps, with me.
Someday I wish you look at life's disappointments as a step towards greater and not a stand still of why's and why-not's.
And if you're willing, I would hope you sit and wish the same for me.

- Julia Aubrey Rhodes -