I feel us slipping
and I can't seem to keep a grip
It's like you're sliding
right through my fingertips
I can still touch you
and feel your warm flesh
But something about us just doesn't mesh
Our connection is becoming a little hazy
I think you're getting a little lazy
We are losing touch
and I miss you so much
I can feel myself falling through the cracks
of my own broken heart
Inch by inch we are losing each other to the dark
I think the bad is starting to out weigh the good
and I'm starting to see nothing where we once stood
Shadows are filling up inside my lonely heart
and I'm trying to find a little spark
A spark of hope, of light, or a fire
to reignite my once strong desire
I can see the sun breaking in your eyes
It's a new day I see it on the rise
and I'm trying to see the good in life
but good things in life are hard to find
This love is killing me
and all I want to know is if I can survive
I should just let you go
But I don't really want too
at least not right now
I know I'm just dragging this out
Because it's inevitable
so why all the doubt?
I just want to know what giving you up
is going to take
Maybe I shouldn't it's easier to just act fake
I've let myself get too far in
How did I let myself get here again?
It's cool, I am strong
But what about my pitiful heart?
You have dreams to chase
and I have a son to raise
you're just a boy and I'm just a girl
we just need to let things unfurl
I've taken all I can take and I can't let this break me down
But it still feels like a part of me is dead and in the ground
I wish our fairytale ending would of came true
but it's time to face the facts...I think it's over.....
and we are through...

Copyright © 2013 by Ashley Rodden

Opa,
It is a word,
But more of a sound,
The sound of
Thrown plates
Hitting the ground,
The sound of
God's cheer
At human accomplishment,
The sound of
Friends together
Stealing away the night.
Opa is expression,
Is happiness in life.

Opa in a name
Of an excellent resturaunt
Nestled in the land
Between dream
And reality
Where the tastes
Of the old
Blend with new
In the seamless style
Of the modern world.
Opa brings hope.

Hope is at
The doorstep
Of my doubtful heart.
Hope for redemption
In forefather's eyes.
That a connection
Can be still made
To my ancient world;
To my own blood,
Soul and flesh.
That I can
Learn to dance
In my own skin.

Opa is possibility
For my motherland
To hold on to life
By the slippery reins
And keep up
With the world,
But not lose tradition.
There is possibility
For me
To reclaim herritage;
To learn my history;
To live proudly Greek

Being a weekend binge drinker I don’t really like Mondays
my poor fragile mind is in a alcohol daze,
my limbs are slow and heavy, each movement is a trial
I feel like I’ve ran a marathon after swimming the length of The Nile,
I lop around all zombiefied my legs are full of lead
my eyes are groaning loudly, like an extra from The Walking Dead,
I’m on the verge of snoozing, I do that sleepy involuntary ****,
I pinch myself real hard “Si you have to stay awake in work!”.
So I take a trip to the disabled toilet and have a nap on the ceramic floor,
hoping I’ll feel much better after this tad of a tiny snore,
I rouse after ten minutes and decide to control this ***** ridden strife,
I must get a grip soon, I want a grasp on this Monday life,
a light bulb pings out of nowhere to brighten my maudlin mood,
this sweet recovery will be engendered by lots scrumptious of food,
so I indulge in a savoury overload and gorge on toast and crisps;
Discos, Hula Hoops, Quavers and defo tons of Frisps,
on my dinner I scoff a Mac Donalds and then a Greg’s sausage roll,
this hungry Homer gluttony helps to sustain my whole,
the calorific sustenance does it’s job and my hangover starts to diminish,
I gaze at the computer’s clock and think “hey it’s time I finished!”.
I ponder “ohh I can glide home knowing my day is done
and if it stays sweet and bright I can enjoy a few hours in the sun,
after that I can watch Breaking Bad and catch up with Coronation Street
while busting out the texts and having more to eat,
yeah I’m see what Walter White’s up to while being really greedy,
wait a ******* minute, tonight’s when I’ve said I’d help the needy!
*******, **** **** **** ****, that’s my evening of chilling down the spout,
rather than a hammock night in I’ve got to venture out
and feed a load of ungrateful gits who don’t even clear their plates
and ask me if I’m a cross dresser while sniggering with their mates,
rather then see if Jesse gets caught by Hank and how the story unfolds
I’ll have to scrub those scrubbers dishes pristine while wearing marigolds,
as oppose to nodding off reading with a Rustlers under my front room lamp
I’ll have to put a load of cutlery away after making a 20 sugar brew for a *****!"
So I decide the Wellspring is off tonight as I really can’t be assed going
I’ll just graft extra hard for *** next week and keep the drinks a flowing,
so I’m just about to pick my phone up and call in with a excuse that’s pretty lamey
but then I realise if I don’t go I won’t get to see Amy!
Suddenly there is a spring in my step, my motion feels on point
I shower very quickly and post drying roll a joint,
I have a zip in my posture as I sail and blaze down the road
all my thoughts of staying in they instantly erode,
I think “Amy is ace and topper, in her company all is fun
she’d make a day of gloom resplendent with the sun,
her chirping silly noises are always brill in the air
she turns my giggles to def com one, I laugh without a care,
I mean I know I'm hilarious, I can feel my own strengths in my head and tummy
but when I'm with Amy I'm even more funny!  
She makes it all sunny!
Cos we can berate that gormless Declan who eats with the speed of a cheetah
say he's troffing all the time, like a professional eater,
we can spray a bit of water, have a lot of chat
teleport through nonsense with the free degree of claptrap,
chill around the washer where all the cool kids hang
kicking back like Gs, knowing all the slang,
flick a fleck of sausage then have a speaking swirl
flex the talking muscles with sweet balletic twirl.
I mean she's not perfect, she could improve her lot
she's pretty immodest, always going on about how she's so hot,
alright supermodel, calm down, yeah, okay you were blessed with good looks
be you know being arrogant really ******* *****.
And she don't like the ***** cats, her brain must have a feline blur
how can she not warm to their whiskers and their contented little purrs,
her eyes sometimes don't always work and she is optically infirm
and she steals pies from the scrotes, she don't know to wait her turn,
she'd stab you in the back for a go at the counter, she's always trying to grab the lead,
and added to all that she can't even ******* read!
(I'm surprised you can read this actually.)
But i'll overlook these foibles, her flaws aren't yet that drastic
she has to merge some yang in there to be so yin fantastic!
Ahh, in this life where what was can no longer leave a reflection
it's always super to feel the natural flow of connection;
glowing with simplicity
our joyous synchronicity!"
So i approach the door of The Wellspring and feel sweet and glad
and think, "you know for a Monday you aint turned out too bad!".

Believe that a lost connection breaks your heart more than once
What I know now makes no sense
what is new?
Figuring out your home has left you behind
The life you wish you could run back to and change it all
falls from every tree dead around you as you mourn all day anyway

The world you knew is changing all the time.  No purpose but to find a purpose

When your skin is darker than your past, you'll find
yourself instinctively seeking shade, avoiding the scorching
rays of the sun that seem to tarnish its complexion.
Its once radiant appearance now tinged with the remnants
of the flames, forever leaving a mark.
You may feel that all your imperfections persist, yearning
to be acknowledged and embraced, yet often remaining
unnoticed by the oblivious eyes of the world.
You, my dear, have become a surreal spectacle, captivating
the gaze of many with your unique blend of beauty and vulnerability.

In this collective exchange of glances, you discover
a remarkable unity, a deep connection that transcends
mere superficiality. It is as if each shared look weaves
together the threads of our lives, binding us in a profound
state of matrimony, where understanding and acceptance intertwine.

As we stand together, lost in the enigmatic origins of life,
it becomes apparent that your skin holds a story, an
uninterrupted lineage that stretches back through time.
It is a tapestry of ancestral struggles and triumphs, a testament
to resilience and fortitude. And like the night that envelops
the world, your dusky guardian complexion bears witness
to the strength and beauty that lies within.

But let us not be judged solely by what meets the eye.
Peel back this outer layer, delve deeper into who we truly are,
and you will discover hearts that beat with the same
tenderness, dreams that flourish within the obscure depths of
our souls. Don't let the label of "African child,"
confine us to a predetermined destiny; instead, let it be
a celebration of our heritage, a recognition of the richness
and diversity that flows through our veins.

So, my dear, as we navigate our way through this complex
and ever-changing world, let your skin be a canvas,
not only for the painted white of eyes that might cast
judgments, but for the genuine smiles that radiate from within.
Embrace your darkness, your unique hue, and let it stand
as a testament to the vibrant spirit that resides in the
depths of your being.

Kissing under the gaze of the twinkling stars,
with the moon softly illuminating our embrace,
a tender melody whispered through the night air,
its notes a gentle serenade to our budding love
—reminiscent of innocent children joyfully
chanting a prayer.

In that timeless moment,
as we became lost in each other's presence,
I found myself wishing fervently for this
enchanting connection to linger for eternity,
to be relived over and over. Nostalgia filled
my heart as I envisioned our souls intertwined
in a dance of everlasting affection, painting
our future with hues of passion and devotion.

Yet, the quiet whisper of reality began
to seep through the soft night,
reminding me that all enchantments must
eventually yield to the break of dawn.

With a wistful sigh and a sense of acceptance,
I held onto this fleeting interlude of happiness,
drawing strength from the memory of
celestial magic that had woven us together in
a cocoon of love and longing.

And so, as the first light of morning peeked
over the horizon, signaling the end of us, and
timeless embrace, I embraced the bittersweet
beauty of impermanence, cherishing the
ephemeral bliss before the rising sun
dissipated our shared moment in the
gentle embrace of the day.

Rush Transcript. May include inaccuracies.

Andrea Marsino: We're here today with "     " to talk about his recent best-seller, The Orchestra, which has swept bookshelves across the nation in recent weeks. A stunning display of literary craftsmanship, the book has generated a whirlwind of dialogue in all sorts of settings, from University coffee shops to local dive bars, and even, we're told, in the Pentagon. Tell us "     ", did you have any expectation at all of this kind of reaction?

"     ": Never in a million years would I have thought that I could stir up such a...a hornet's nest really. Sure it's a kind of inflammatory piece of fiction, but I never thought it'd result in so much backlash.

Andrea: Talk about unintended consequences right? How did the idea first come to you?

"         ": Well it didn't just pop into my head fully formed one day. I guess it first started to take shape at a bus station in Florida. I had just been kicked out of my Dad's house and was moving to another part of the state, so naturally I was a bit, I don't know, out of sorts. I was waiting for the connecting bus and was smoking a cigarette to **** the time and just sort've fell into conversation with this black kid who was also waiting for a connection. This was in I think May of 2013, so the situation really hadn't started to fall part yet, but the cracks were definitely showing. And that's what we were talking about, just the overall sense of things not going well, the feelings of helplessness that we as individuals, and seemingly the community as a whole, were feeling at the time. I told him that it'd get better one day, somehow and that change always is a painful process. Then the light came on and I started pondering how that sweeping societal change might be accomplished.

Andrea: There are a lot of themes in the book, a lot of subtext and implied conclusions. You've been criticized for what seems like hostility to faith and some say advocating violent political activism. What are your responses to some of the accusations that have been leveled against you?

"         ": Hostility to faith? Absolutely not. Faith is one of the overriding points of the whole thing. The objection is to organized and subverted religious teachings. Faith exists to aid humanity in the struggle of their lives and I feel like....if you examine history faith has time and again been co-opted into a tool of oppression. That's what I object to. As for advocating ****** revolution, that's another flat out misinterpretation. Yes, politics is a huge part of the story and plays a huge part in really tying the whole thing together. But it's not really about that, it's not about any single issue. It's about people, as a whole, taking back their right to not be dehumanized by anything or anyone, especially their government which is supposed to protect them.

Andrea: I see. So it's not so much about the mechanisms of power politics as it is about people's inherent value?

"        ": Absolutely. Our conception of what power really is I think is grossly inaccurate.

Andrea: But surely you can understand how your depiction of terrorist acts and a domestic insurgency is very disturbing to some people? You were a Soldier yes? Did this affect your style, and the arc of the plot?

"         ": Of course I can. And it's meant to be disturbing, it's meant to illustrate how positive forces of change can be corrupted into violence. And yes, I was an Intelligence Analyst in the Army. We were fighting an insurgency, so in order to learn how, we basically deconstructed insurgencies throughout history. We learned how they functioned, all the sides you could throw at it. And then I learned from two Defense Intelligence Agency Instructors how to start one too. Those experiences most definitely gave me the technical knowledge I needed to write something like this.

Andrea: There's also been a lot of talk about how graphic your imagery is. Many prominent individuals call it a lack of talent on your part, that you can't write without going in for the shock factor so to speak.

"        " : Ha! It's not a children's book. And besides, life is graphic. You can't portray something accurately without tackling the nasty stuff. Besides, things like ****** assault and drug use are essential to some of the characters. It wouldn't make any sense for someone to react as violently as they did in certain scenes without the reader knowing exactly what had occurred previously to form that character's identity.

Andrea: I can understand that. Doesn't make it any easier to think about though.

"       ": I don't know what to tell you. The truth is a painful thing sometimes, and portraying it was not exactly a fun process.

Andrea: And what about those very colorful characters? How did you get your inspiration for them?

"          ": Oh all sorts of places. Honestly, some are based on real individuals that I've known at some point or another. And others are pure imagination. Ta'ra and Clara were inspired by a Dane Jones ***** for instance ha ha.

Andrea: 'Blushing' That's, er, interesting. Characters from ******* is one I haven't heard before. Anyway, throughout the book is this sense of individuals being swept into something bigger than themselves and how they react to that. It's kind of ambiguous sometimes, swinging between very New Age concepts to mundane life on the same page. The quote at the beginning for instance. Very spiritual, very deep. But then you open with an interaction on a street corner.

"          ": Hmm, I guess I could try and explain about things like Theosis, which is one of the main themes by the way, but I don't think it would illustrate what I was trying to convey very well. I guess I was always kinda on the fence about divine intervention and that sort of thing until I read a piece by a friend of mine about an experience she had some years ago. Basically, she was in a diner when a Muslim woman came over and asked to sit and talk. They spoke about spirituality and the woman turned to her and said that anyone could be a prophet, like it wasn't something reserved for saints and such. It was very powerful and finally convinced me that humans aren't just ants on an anthill, so to speak. It spoke to a very, very intimate part of me. So, I took it and incorporated it into what I do. Which is write.

Andrea: Wow, that's an amazing explanation that I really didn't expect. I'd love to talk some more and I'm sure our listeners would love to hear more, but unfortunately that's all the time we have for the show today. "     " thank you so much for joining us today and sharing so many insights about your new book, The Orchestra.

"           ": The pleasure was all mine Andrea, thank you for having me.

Andrea**: This is Andrea Marsino with NPR and thanks for listening. Coming up in the next half hour we have Peggy Walker from Floyd Virginia talking about some of the exciting ways her community is fighting to keep their traditions alive today.

sometimes i miss you
i miss the way you’d sweep me off my feet
fill me with bubbly sensations
of false joy and freedom
make the darkness go away
and rid me of the pain that
consumed every inch of my being

i miss how it felt
when we were together
you were my partner in crime
you made me feel infinite
as if i could escape my body
and astral travel to a place
far away from here

i miss the way
you brought me comfort
when i needed it most
sometimes when the pain was
far too much to bear
you made me feel
completely and utterly numb
so i wouldn’t have to feel anything at all

i trusted you
i leaned on you for support
when i was broken and
nothing else seemed to work
as long as you were feeding me
i knew i’d be okay

but little did i know
you were leading me down a dark path
of more sickness and pain
our relationship was a toxic one
i lost myself in you
and i realized that in the end
you never truly wanted the best for me

so for two years
i starved our connection
i went into the wilderness
to find myself again
i put my broken pieces back together
i re-connected with
healthier ways of being

i appreciated how you helped me
through all those years
maybe you were what i needed to survive
during those dark and painful times
but you were never supposed to stay long

so this is my farewell for now
maybe we’ll meet again someday
but i’ll be more prepared then
to greet you kindly
and acknowledge your presence
yet stay strong enough
to not get carried away again

Time does me no favours.

We meet sometimes
Our eyes make no such connection.
Time away from me freshens your face in every instance,
Draw out the premature creases.
The secrets we hold are nothing, now;
Ill-remembered exaggerations that make life now seem that way.
Almost easy.

Our eyes meet sometimes.
Haunted, mud-brown.
If I closed my eyes and challenged you
You would say they were green.
I grasp at the closeness you offer me
Laughing it off as my working through the problems
Using it to demonstrate the changes that haven't occurred.

I met you, once.
I was shorter, smaller, almost bony.
You were chinless, smelled of sweat and anger.
Blue tee, green jacket, mud-eyes, mud-hair, mud-nails.
You said hello.

If Lord Jesus Christ is said to sit on the right hand side of God the Father in Heaven then who sits on the left side?

When Jesus was born it is recorded in the Gospels that He was visited by three wise men who came to see and honor Him by following a star from the east. Did they actually follow an external star and light in the sky or were they able to see and follow the promptings of the Inner Light of intuition, insight and illumination of those who are Enlightened which is also called and known as The Star of the East and can be seen within the darkness of closed eyes and sometimes with opened eyes?

Did Jesus tell Judas to betray Him as he was sensed to be wavering in his resolution to do so because Jesus had to fulfill the mission entrusted to Him by the Holy Spirit and of which it was prophesied about in the earlier scriptures? The Gospel of John states that Jesus confronted Judas at the last supper, telling him, "What you are about to do, do quickly."

Did Jesus command His foremost disciple Peter to deny Him three times as He could see that that was what it would take to save Peter's life and for him to live on and be the Rock upon which He would build His Church as Jesus had foretold of him when He had asked Peter Whom did he think that He was and the answer that Peter gave was the one that most pleased Jesus?

What did Jesus do and where did he go between the time of 12 and 30 years of age? As it is recorded in the Gospel by St Luke about Him being left behind unknowingly by His parents (how could this have happened?) and was found three days later in Jerusalem talking to the doctors in the Temple asking and answering questions at the age of 12 and then not being heard of again until the age of 30 when He is recorded to be seeking baptism by John the Baptist just before being led into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. Here also there seems to be an unanswered question over the recounting of Jesus's ordeal in the desert which is told by the Gospel writers to have lasted 40 days and 40 nights and which happened before He called any of His disciples to start following Him. How could they have known what actually transpired during that time, and how much of it is based on the truth, unless it was Jesus Himself who told them about it later on or, was it the work of the “Holy Spirit” about which it is said that it's “He Who makes known or reveals all things”.
Also, did Jesus return the visit of the Three Wise Men who came to see him at the time of His birth and who perhaps held the key to that Divine Knowledge and Wisdom which Jesus had to master in order for Him to fulfill His mission on earth? Eighteen years is a long time to have missing out of one's life particularly that of one Who is regarded to be the Savior of the World.
Did Jesus gain or attain, during those eighteen years mentioned above, that perfect Self mastery of the body, mind and spirit which was required for Him to have the ability and Divine Knowledge to perform miracles and to undergo and survive the ordeal of the Crucifixion and to then apparently be found to have come back to life in the story of the Resurrection after being proclaimed dead by the authorities at the time and was then buried where He would be recorded to go on and perform perhaps the greatest miracle of all?
In the discipline and higher practices of Yoga there is a state called 'Nirvikalpa Samadhi' which is also known as the 'breathless' and more specifically as the 'I am God' state whereby one who has mastered it can voluntarily leave the physical body at will and not be conscious of it at all, as would normally be the case when awake, but can still retain a connection with it which may explain the apparent death and resurrection of Lord Jesus Christ who is known to have been a Master Yogi when we compare His achievements with those that have been documented and can be attained by one who has mastered the science and art of Yoga.

It is also thought and even recorded that Jesus descended down to hell after He apparently 'died' on the cross due to the Crucifixion because of all our sins which He incurred as a down payment to God the Father so He could form what has come to be known as the New Covenant to save all those who believe in Him. While certain aspects of this view have merit and are true, it seems to go against what Jesus Himself is recorded to have said in the Gospels to one of the other condemned prisoners at the time before He 'died' on the cross when that prisoner asked Jesus to please remember him when he would go up into His Kingdom and Jesus having compassion replied to him saying: “Today shalt thou be with me in paradise” which is a far cry and contradiction to what is thought to have happened.

In the forty days following the Resurrection it is recorded that Jesus spent the time with His disciples before the Ascension teaching and telling them many things even so far as to remove any doubts they may have had regarding what happened to Him and to painfully declare that He had to leave and go to prepare a place for them in Heaven with the Father. Did Jesus actually ascend up to heaven or did He project an image of Himself in the sky as a farewell greeting before going away and heading off yonder with one or two of His disciples? It's very plausible that it would have been too dangerous for Him and His disciples if He had of stayed around, as it is recorded in some of the apocryphal texts where it's written that He traveled to the east and in particular India where it's also said that He died a normal death and was buried somewhere in what is now known as Kashmir.
There's also a story in The Book Of Mormon in which it is recorded that Jesus visited two Jewish lost tribes that had been exiled from the Holy Land a couple of centuries before due to their warring nature against each other, as a blessing of peace and to fulfill a promise and prophesy made and written about in the earlier scriptures, after all the drama unfolded there (His trial and crucifixion etc).

'To be born again' is a well known phrase in Christianity and is said to be a baptism by the Holy Spirit of someone who has become a follower of Lord Jesus Christ and involves the descent of Divine Grace. It would seem that not all followers of Jesus Christ receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit and are truly 'Born Again' but only those who ardently seek and follow in His footsteps and live by His example as set out in the Gospels with the instructions and words given therein. Only those who spend time in prayer, on a daily basis more or less, following the promptings of the 'Holy Spirit' and go about doing good, rendering service to others in need, to the best of their ability avoiding the temptations and pitfalls of the 'Flesh' in the form of lust, greed, anger, pride and jealousy and also living in accordance within the laws of the Ten Commandments. It is these people who experience the words of Lord Jesus Christ in the New Testament to come alive in them and go on to know the 'real mysteries of faith'. Each one receives what they're capable of holding which is in a spirit of humility and meekness; that is to do the Will of God the Father by obeying those aforesaid promptings of the Holy Spirit and by keeping the words of Lord Jesus Christ always in their heart.

There are many followers and believers of Lord Jesus Christ who have been adamantly saying and preaching that He will come again physically in a “Second Coming” and this has been going on for the past two thousand years or so since the stories of the “Resurrection” and in particular after His “Ascension”. Could it be that they are somehow mistaken and that it is just all based on dogma? However, in spite of any doubts or misgivings in this regard, it would be truly great to be around at such a time were it to happen hence the power of belief in it. This is also really something that can and does happen in a personal and individual way as described above in the previous paragraph.
In consideration of all the horrific events that happened during the past 20th century it would indeed be evident or even obvious that it should have been at some time back then. Instead there are many people left wondering as to what it would really take for God or someone like God to manifest Himself as an Incarnation of the Christ or Messiah etc, wielding Divine power, knowledge and authority, to save humanity and thereby in fact the whole world. If God is God being all powerful, all knowing, all loving, all compassionate, omnipresent, infinite and eternally creative etc, who's to say that He would need to come back down again amidst mankind in the same form as that of one of His previous incarnations at such a crucial time? Would it not be a display of favoritism on God's part to do so and for all we know would only lead to greater conflict and more religious war than has already been the case in the past and in some ways still going on today?
-------------------------------------------
Note:
See also YouTube video: Jesus in India, Tibet and Persia - An Account Missing from The Bible largely based in parts on the book 'The Unknown Life of Jesus Christ' by Nicolas Notovitch.

Best of friends so close to each other
Two peas in a pod no need for cover
Trust completely without hesitation
Can love each other without vacation

Waking up, life’s here again
It’s not just us, you have more friends
I sit like a candle in the wind
One blow from you and I’m caving in

Days are passing, no word from you
And I thought we were stuck like glue
I’m here for comfort, I see your sorrows
Staring at you, wanting a different tomorrow

Now I can’t get you out of my mind
But you can’t seem to find the time
To think of me, am I doing fine?
Would you notice if I cried inside?

When we hug I can feel your affection
Look in your eyes and I see a connection
But I listen close, there is nothing to hear
All I can smell is fear

Fear of losing you, are we still friends?
From you I can’t tell, so I’ll just pretend
Things are going great, a magical wonderland
I don’t understand why you let go of my hand

I saw you today, the desire was all mine
I’ll sit watching my phone and wait for the chime
No message so far, all you give me is silence
Walking in the dark, I pray for no violence

Was I holding so tight you slipped through my fingers?
My vulnerability I showed you, now the dark angel lingers
I loved you more than everybody combined
But you showed me that you were never mine

Now I can’t get you out of my mind
But you can’t seem to find the time
To think of me, am I doing fine?
No, not since you left me crying inside.

The cloud’s sweat mists
Foggy moon breaking the night
Stars are like evening sprinkles
And in the sweltering heat
The factory repeats
Its strange and haunting beats

The dusty machines spit hot air
Metal grinds metal, the forklifts beeps
The sound barely startles me
Out of my space daydreams
My oddly color ear buds
Making me dull of hearing

A guy speaks at me seeking humanity
Lonely, widower he needs some connection
Fourteen year and tumors will see
His dog finally has to go to sleep

He says he needs another puppy
Offers up skewed observations
About our American nation
I am disturbed but I can see
His heart is in the right place
As he places his thoughts before me

Loves his music but I can’t help but worry
That when I leave he will cease to be
Becoming merely a memory
Echoing ghostly
Cause he is so lonely

I N T R O D U C T I O N
HOW TO EXPRESS LOVE

“Some call it bewitched, but I call it love.
There is an emptiness in the freedom of being alone,
And liberty in being caught in that divine spell.”

I have been here before, and with this pen, I express myself through words.
To better understand myself, and to avoid being misunderstood.
The day that I stop writing love poetry is the day that my pen's ink will run out,
Along with my sense of connection to humanity.
Love is hard, and even more difficult to describe,
Too complex to express simply by stringing words together.
Yet here I am, trying over and over,  
Always feeling limited, unfulfilled, and unsatisfied.

I have been here before, trying to express my feelings when in love.
It is frustrating, and most attempts are ripped apart and disposed of.
I have been trying to describe love for years, and still feel unsatisfied,
The countless filled notebooks are evidence of all the times that I have tried.
I cannot find how to put it simply but in a beautiful way,
I could write about it for hours and hours, from night until day.
But to fully understand love, I must reflect back and see,
How I love, how I was loved, and how I love me.
____________

P A R T  O N E
HOW I LOVE

I have been here before, I am comforted by love's familiarity,
Its pleasantness, shining like rays of sun, enveloping me in warmth and sincerity.
Its floral fragrance in the form of beautiful golden sunflowers,
Bundled with red ribbon at the stems, followed by conversations that go on for hours.
Its sweet taste in the form of kisses all over my cheeks and face,
Until there is not a spot that his lips have not touched, and I point lower to a different space.
I want more but I am too timid to say,
But my rosy cheeks and bashfulness give it away anyway.

But, I've also been here before, reminiscing on this familiarity,
I am then reminded of the heartache that follows, and I get a sense of polarity.
The shattered promises of forever, and the final goodbyes,
The returning of sweaters that smell like him while holding back desperate cries.
The empty and cold interactions as he shuts the door behind him,
The sinking loneliness of standing alone in a room that is now too dim.
The racking sobs as my heart begs me to stop doing this to myself,
So, I take the thought of love, lock it in a box, and tuck it away on a high shelf.

But, I have been here before, knowing that I cannot stop,
Love is embedded deep inside of me, it is not something I can just drop.
My heart knows how capable I am to feel such raw emotions,
It flows gracefully through me, and soars with plummeting waves like the ocean.
My heart demands to spark a flame in the one who ignited these feelings inside of me,
It yearns to douse them with loving adoration and unwavering loyalty.
It demands to be expressed, through every form of self-expression that I use,
Whether that is poetry, painting, music, or whatever outlet I choose to let loose.
____________

P A R T  T W O
HOW TO LOVE ME

I long to be cherished for not only who I am, but who I was, and how I came to be,
So instead of writing about love, I will write about how to better love me.
I have not been here before, so I will take it slow,
If it helps you better understand me, please let me know.
This is for you, if you want to love me,
It is complex and it may not come immediately.

Please understand that it will take time,
For you to love me the way that I need, this is not just a rhyme.
This is new to me, I have not been here before,
If it makes you see the real me, for you I will write more.
I have not been here before, but I am still using the same pen,
If you follow my trail of disorganized thinking, please nod every now and then.

I am honest, and I will never lie.
I want you to be my best friend before being my guy.
I want to build a sense of familiarity, to know about you and your life.
I want consistent communication so we can avoid all strife.
I want passion and longing, the magnetic pull between our lips as they unify.
I want "I love you"s to be meaningful, not fillers when our conversation dies.

He must know that the "he" in this story, could also be a she,
My ability to love isn't limited by appearances that fade with time, life’s bittersweet guarantee.
He must know my personality, strengths, goals, and my dreams,
And when we fight, he must remember that we are not on opposing teams.
He must know how to support me and my life goals, how to motivate me,
When the coldness of the world makes me search for ways to escape reality.


He must want the best for me, for me to be happy, even if that is not by his side,
If we realize that we are not compatible, or our relationship makes us feel unsatisfied.
He must know my weaknesses, my flaws,
My tendency to push away when overwhelmed, and how to find the probable cause.
He must know that though I love to care for others, I am not great at caring for my own body.
My self-destructive nature has a story of its own, and it is not shared with everybody.
____________

P A R T  T H R E E
HOW I WAS LOVED

I have been here before, and with the same pen, I tell him about my life,
Like the times I fought bare-****** against life’s merciless and cold knife.  
I am not a hero, not even in my own story,
But I am not one to boast or seek any type of glory.
I have grown and matured from my battles, so do not be afraid,
There is no reason for you to rush to my aid.
I find myself apologizing for the scars that I embedded on my own skin,
Sometimes it was easier to find comfort at the bottom of my bottle of gin.
I am withered, no longer beautifully brand-new,
So I apologize for sometimes randomly feeling sad out of the blue.

I have been here before, and with the same pen, I try to help him understand me,
I am bound by my demons, and can't remove the shackles that would set me free.
He feels a need to fix me, as if I were a broken wine glass,
I bring attention to the glass pieces on the floor that he should avoid and overpass.
He thinks that sweet words could be the glue to adhere my shards together,
And praises the curvature of my body, accentuated by a jacket made of leather.
He believes that he could love me more than anyone else has, and by doing so, he would mend me,
I quietly sigh, close my eyes, and slowly count to three.



I have been here before, and with the same pen, I try to make him see,
My broken pieces are not meant to be picked up by fragile hands, nor by anybody.
He learns this when the sharp sting of glass runs along the tips of his digits,
Understanding that my scarred fingers were from all the attempts I made when I felt brave and ambitious.
Trust me — I know how much it hurts, I do not want you to share my pain,
I know that I am a sad girl, but still, some happiness remains.
I want to embrace this darkness, my ability to feel emotions so immense,
My dear, there is no need to put your fists up in defense.

I have been here before, and I watch him try to fit the pieces together,
But they are merciless and weigh much more than a feather.
They are not a puzzle, they do not even fit me anymore,
But he becomes frustrated, exclaiming that this is more than he asked for.
I try to make him understand that they do not define me,
I only want them to be a visual for my story, I do not need them to feel free.
I want him to see my past and my struggles laid on the table,
Only then he will know how strong the roots are that ground me and keep me stable.


I have been here before, and I don't feel like rhyming anymore,
It took me a long time to understand myself and what I stand for.

He thinks I am a broken wine glass, but he does not understand.
The glass shards that lay before him are all of the times I've lost a piece of myself;
The innocence that I clung to for so long, and had to let go of in order to survive and adapt.
The ideologies of supportive families, shattered by abusive alcoholics that no one questioned.
The expectations of loving and supportive friends, broken by betrayal and abandonment.
The life that I once knew, had to leave behind, and the shock that crackled my perspective and forever changed me.





I have been here before, and with the same pen, I try to reassure him,
But he is drowning in my sorrows and has forgotten how to swim.
He feels a need to scare away my demons, and cure what plagues my mind,
He becomes frightened by my pain and wants to protect me, so he covers my eyes.
But my self-destructive nature was never his job to correct,
I try to show him that I am grateful, I never meant any disrespect.

I have been here before, and with the same pen, I express that I am his equal and that we are the same,
I am not expecting him to be anything more than he is, I am not a helpless dame.
But he feels that it is his duty as a man to complete me, to support me, to give me a reason to smile.
I put down my pen, and stare into his eyes for a while.


Though I may be broken, I am complete on my own.
The only support I want is holding hands as we walk side by side, not in the form of you carrying me.
Our world is beautiful enough to make me smile, I only want to enjoy it alongside you.
____________

P A R T  F O U R
HOW I LOVE ME

I have been here before, and I have been through all that.
For 23 years, so that makes me stronger than you.
I am better equipped to deal with certain things on my own,
Those broken pieces are not even a part of me anymore.
My demons do not need to be slain by a knight in shining armor, because they are more scared of me.
They know what I've overcome, and know that I will not take **** from anybody.

I've been here before, and with the same pen, I acknowledge my strength,
I've rebuilt the walls of my broken wine glass exterior with precise width and length.
I designed them using the knowledge that I gained from where I went wrong,
I shaped and molded them with the experiences that taught me how to be strong.
And I planted flowers that blossomed when nourished by my own self-determination,
I spent many years adding to the durable and unbreakable flooring and foundation.
I painted the inner walls crimson red, and hung golden accents from the ceiling,
And laid down mats for meditating when I am hurting and need healing.

I have been here before, and I've created this for myself,
I will invite you in, if you'd like to see it for yourself.
I am strong, I am intelligent, and I hope to be more brave,
But I am a lover and a fighter, so please don't think that I need to be saved.
I want to share this beautiful experience of life with you,
But it is not a journey that you have to carry me through.
We will put on comfortable shoes and make our way together,
And we'll prepare for obstacles, challenges, and unpleasant weather.

I have been here before, and I see that look in his eyes,
The corners of his lips curl down and he feels the need to apologize.
I don't need an apology, or for you to change who you are,
Let's enjoy our time together and have a cigar.
The universe granted us to cross paths for a reason,
So please enjoy the warm weather with me this season.

There are so many beautiful sights out there,
I don't care what we do, or where we go, we can go to Times Square!
As long as I am by your side, and you love me,
In the purest and passionate form, it would make me so happy.
Put the other headphone in and listen to this song,
I think now that you better understand me, you can do no wrong.
I put my pen down as we listen along,
I dedicate a playlist to him, filled with love songs.

I have been here before, and even though my pen is down,
It seems that I cannot and will not stop expressing love.

i just miss the way we used to speak,
sitting on your fire escape,
we vented our little hearts away,
figuring out a way out of the destruction we faced.
the hardships we endured weren’t just,
we were too young to experience those things.
so they’d tell us, but hey, remember when i used to sleepover your place?
despite needing space, you used to tell me anyway that I was your safe place.
it was as if we represented our own homes,
not reflecting it, just avoiding the conflict,
all we knew at the time was feeling like we belonged.
all along, i wanted someone to lean on when the obstacles grew too difficult to face.
when i found you,
i learned just how that felt.
now, we’re growing old,
connection is wearing thin,
but i’m still thinking of you to maintain faith.
you help me through things i can’t make out,
and for that, i’m forever grateful to have you,
to have had that one special connection.
days are passing by,
time is ticking, and it feels longer without you here with me.
you moved away four years ago,
but it feels like i lost track of where that person I’ve known my whole life went.
distance could be the reason for our connection not being the same,
but, the harder i try to remember the reason why,
the more pain it brings.
these tears I cry out are temporary calls for help through times I need you here with me to stay.
hopefully one day, our days will come back to us as they should,
we will reunite and rekindle our once special connection,
making each other feel like nothing has changed.
in the mean time, i can replay the memories we’ve made,
with you by my side reminds me of the feeling of getting through anything.
because you were my safe place, the one I depended on when people pushed me away when I had nowhere else to go.
when i cry at night,
the thought of you next to me bring the tears I cry to water for the trees, and those cries turn to sounds of peace,
you are my safe place.

~


so obvious the mistake
the ordered disorganization

the summation of a man's life
in an ampersand -
a logogram connection
tween two words,  
finally, properly sequenced

error then trial, then error then trial

perception - my life is an endless trial
punctuated and worsened,
periodically pierced
by errors
made of your own free (not really) choosing

"whenever confronted by a fork in my road,
I always chose wrongly"

and aye, here's the rub
the same mistake made repeatedly

example prime:
falling in love is just another way of saying
gonna end badly

and you constant cravenly confess
to yourself the ending unbecoming cause
you can read the handwriting on the wall
for your specialty is


*only love poetry for dummies

the poison seeds that are planted in people's minds since birth, grow more and more everyday. It is a strange thought to think about; the way that the poisoned ones think is different than the others. they are still good individuals

just poisoned ones.

no one can dig them out, there's a connection missing somewhere
  
"help"  their mind cries, and at the same time their mind tells them that they deserve this, they will never get better, and they better get used to it because thats how they will always be.

the seed is planted firmly in the soil of the mind, and the only one that has the right tools to dig it up, is the one that hosts the plant.

it is a sad and unfamiliar thought, to think about the ones that are poisoned, and why they haven't picked up the *****.

we have direct associations of
things long past and no
way to connect random
words. I wonder, then, why I always  think of peanut
butter when someone says winter
or I taste eggs when someone
mentions Christmas. I don't
even celebrate Christmas and
I taste caramel popcorn
and crisp wintermint and
what a cloud would taste
like. why is that? where do
our words go? others would taste fish when they hear
the word tooth
paste, or crave oranges when their feet first
hit pavement. if you're trying to fit the
words together, and see
why the bitter taste of chicory
is reminisced with coppery blood and
love, and you are sure your own word associations are
completely logical, one day you'll come across
the skeletons in closets, the snake slithering in the
greenest grass, things that mean
so little to you yet are bright points
of deep connection. you try to
fit the words together and
suddenly, you'll know. then.

From the moment of birth - a shedding of tears, and an instant connection is made coupled with the fear of the unknown. How will we manage? Will we be up to par? Will we be able to handle what lies beneath the wind or from a far? That is something we need not worry about. From the moment of birth we need to open our eyes to what dreams may come, and the honor it becomes when your first child calls you Mommy or acknowledges you as Daddy, their caregiver and provider, not just a nanny. From the moment of birth it is a feeling that you cannot describe. Something that only a real parent will experience. A joy you will cherish deep within your heart. When a child needs you to tie their shoes or show them how to bake cookies. Reading a book to them while they have no idea you are grinning from ear to ear simply because they are here. From the moment of birth you look forward to the loss of their first tooth, and they tell you about it with a lisp of enthusiasm, wanting and waiting for the tooth fairy to hook them up with a few bucks. As a proud parent you are honored to oblige. From the moment of birth you selfishly await for the secrets that they will tell you, and scars they will receive. Now you're waiting in the wings, standing by like an emotional thief, a proverbial nurse, ready to heal their wounds. From the moment of birth the memories you will share or just spontaneous laughter that not even you could have prepared. What an honor it will be when they themselves achieve! This experience will seem like a lifetime, but will go by in a blink of an eye. From the moment of birth it becomes a race against time to lead them to their bliss, while we as parents prepare ourselves to let go and watch them soar - From the moment of birth.

In a land made of darkness
where the trees were burnt black
and the sky was not blue there
all color it lacked
where the people were gray
and the sun very pale
but for the most part
no one ever failed
there were no tough decisions
and no problems too
everything was clear cut
they knew what to do

but what is the point
if there's no choice in life?
if there's no other pathways
it's a pointless strife
To live and to stay
alive are not the same
people must make decisions
choose how they play the game
because to play one game
with another game's rules
would never work out
you'd just get confused

one day a small girl
made this connection
she must live her own life
and not be a mere extension
and she exploded with color
and spread it where she walked
and she marveled in awe
and everyone else gawked
yellows and blues
and marvelous greens
melting the darkness
with the vision she'd seen
and others joined in
finding their inner worth
and spreading more colors
all over the earth
and remember, dear reader
never doubt yourself
you can do anything
just leave those dark clouds

The day of the site visit
I hurried out at six fifteen to wait
For a train with a waning moon,
Bright Venus and Jupiter hovering
Above the skyline. The amber horizon
Turned to orange and pink
As scattered stars went dim.

Misread the schedule and arrived
Downtown three quarters of an hour
Before my Electric District connection.
An accidental gift to self.
I ascended, ate two breakfast sandwiches
I got for one dollar with a coupon,
Warm in my hands on a blue picnic table.

The sky grew light
Above the Lake and I wandered
Through Millennium Park. It was empty
Or nearly, which felt the same.
The sun broke the bent horizon
In chrome and ice. I took some pictures,
Then descended to find Track Five.

The day's light revealed
Hollow houses with cartoon stone applied
Like paint, unable to compete
For preeminence with two-car garages.
The newest were bigger and offered
In different colors, but all the same.
Driving conditions were excellent.

At sunset I stood on another platform
Above a busy highway. The last rays came
Through tree branches and melted
Into the pale sky as they left my face.
I had witnessed that sun's birth,
It had warmed me while I waited for my carpool,
Rested with me on a concrete planter after lunch.

I entered the city in darkness
A second time. Changed muddy boots
For clean shoes and hurried to the museum.
It was a free night, overcrowded
With families and children, so difficult
To find a quiet corner for contemplation,
Any sanctuary for my own small soul.

I descended, discovered the typewriters, then
Realized you and I were already there, just
In different colors, using different words,
Spending school vacation to view old paintings
And the Holiday Miniature Rooms.
It dawned and the future was brighter even
As I left the city in darkness.

A doorbell.
Such an extravagant invention.
You press a button,
creating a beckoning sound
in which your host
is obliged to answer.
It’s an attention getter.
Much like a telephone ring.
Someone wants to contact you.
They call,
your phone rings,
it is your duty to pick up.
A connection.
Not unlike a letter in the mail.
Long distance communication.
My words,
full of sentiment and longing.
A way of speaking
to you.
So why aren’t you responding to any?

the echo,
the waiting,
the distance
between us…

I feel as though living
without someone to cry over
is hardly living at all
I crave a connection with someone
who would make my world fall apart
if she became sick
I would give her everything
before I lay her to rest

To the lake
is where our prayers
were air.

We dipped
our poles in the water
and bobbed
with our floats
in the bladder of blackness.

Nelle and Sabrosa
laid down together at the edge
of the still body
as the beasts of night
laid down at their feet.

Me, Dang, and Matt
took sips straight
from the mouth of Kentucky.

The night
creamed me.

Burst into a thousand
remembrances and I wanted to cry
with the fish.

I got angrier and angrier
and eventually we all left,
because I was yelling too loud
and the fish burrowed deeper
into the stomach,
a stomach I had yelled at
as love.

With so many poles
and so many fish
I slipped into the lake.

Let my body
wilt in that sink
where babies were made
with dead bodies,
dead ******* and dead *****
and spasmodic fish bodies
that were made for one thing.

I thought that thing was love,
that's what got me yelling.

The beasts let their whiskers get wet,
even their paws,
as they tapped at me in that water,
hoping for me to rise,
a flotilla of flesh
upon which they could feed.

And so we walked away
from the lake
wet,
and drunk,
the windows down
feeling the paws
and gills
in connection with life.

Nelle and Sabrosa
holding each other
in beach towels.

Me sitting in the front on a plastic sheet
Dang had previously reserved
for the fish we would some day
broil and eat.

So,
I sat on a plastic sheet,
made for love and loss
of the lake.

I sat on the bladder and
upcoming womb
from which night ******
and then made love
with the dead beasts
and catfish
of a shallowness reserved
just for me.

Another school, another day
The Indian woman makes her way
Passing students in the hall
To spread her story to them all

Another class, another crowd
The students here are way too loud
The teacher yells, they take their seat
But one quiet girl I'd like to meet

She sits alone, eyes on her book
When I start talking, then she looks
A baby deer, she hid her face
But the smile I saw was filled with grace

My story ends, the kids applaud
The deep attention, their facade
The bell rings, they clear out fast
The lonley girl stands up at last

She then came up to shake my hand
And show the customs of her land
Her shy confidence shining through
From the little girl dressed in blue

The book she holds is one I wrote
My life story, every quote
That one connection; very strong
I should have known it all along

For true happiness is these simple moments-
When people truely connect through their
Heart, spirit, and mind

I was three , no bigger than a west Texas tumbleweed . . . just three .

My mother hung the wash out on the line
and wiped the sweat off her brow with her hand .
Half an hour later the clothes were frozen .
Blue Norther . . . you can see them coming
a hundred miles away .
Wichita Falls , Texas . . . on the Wichita river .

Moses sat on a mountaintop gazing at the promised land but it was out of his hands now .
Leaning on his staff , the one that ate the Pharoh's two serpents . . . sssssssilently a single tear falls to the ground .

No fence could hold me . . . I was over or under in seconds .
A terror at three , a potential runaway .
The police knew me by first name  . . . just three .
The plains of North Texas , jackrabbits , coyotes , rattlesnakes and all . . . were home .

Forty years of desert wilderness ,
till the last man , woman , and child of Egyptian connection had died ,
. . . . . . was such a sacrifice made . . . . . .
Moses was the last to fall .
On a mountaintop of no consequences .

      "Run Rabbit Run"

The only time
you take to say
I love you
is at the end of the day

Only when all else
is done
do you think to
pick up the phone
to say

"How was your day?"

Five minutes
here or there
then I'm out
to

Bear:

these wounds
that you have left behind
forgiveness I have tried to find
in my heart I cannot see
what this possibly means to me

Cold as frost
on this glass of tea
ice cubes clanking
as my eagerness
ceases

To Be:

capable of believing
your stories
they just end up
to be
tentative sorry's

What am I to do with you
in the balance
hangs a shoe

a shoe that should fit
me and you
one all-inclusive
cinderella duo

Glass slippers
and tux shoes to match
no more for the while

To Catch:

the sinister glance
of a passerby that
gets the chance

To See:

That my pain is real
that this ongoing feeling
is starting

To peel:

back these layers of true love
what lies beneath
is something gloved
with black and coarse
material, it sickens me
sometimes,
to see,
this connection so wearable

Wearing thinner and thinner
to see right through the center...
from you to me

I hope with all hope's hope
that this love will love and last
and be amazing love,
the kind that lasts forever.

But:
if the chill
refuses to leave,
then I'll have to grab my jacket
and leave,
and check out of your hotel