I've been thinking lately
about tumbling into space.
Spinning heel over head
through the cosmos
in intergalactic freefall
for the rest of always
and how familiar that
would feel to me.
I've been thinking that
if I could change the entire
fundamental makeup of
the slowly migrating universe,
to warp space and time, would it
be to my benefit to do so?
Small changes ripple outward
having profound consequence
on things we cannot even
fathom the connections between
and is it right?
Is it Good, capital g,
to make those changes?
Is it worth the risk of
losing this to illustrate
the profundity of it?
If I could move stars
would I do so for you?
If I could compress gravity
enough to warp time
would it even matter
that, from a
specific perspective,
we'd technically have
more time together?
I've been thinking lately
about forever
because it doesn't exisit,
it's an abstraction,
a thought given etheral form,
but it is also the only unit of
measurement that feels
consistent with what
I feel for you.

One ,

life - does go on ,

Two ,

I get what i want

Three ,

He get's what he want's

Four ,
Sunday's are for chillin

Five ,

( u r probs asking why didn't she say , she yet to include all the women out there )

but that's an assumption,  (^^^^^ that is guv. ), that list goes in order of importance..

it's* just numbers* , we've been told, go in that manner ,

whatever -

i've got you this far , now ..

i think i would like to just
document
this moment .

and preserve it - because this golden flower
of a feeling
where nothing , matter and everything hangs in a fine balance and the whole universe just opens and starts to dance , and infinit is no longer a goal but the present space all around
in whatever convex , concave confines you would call these human bodies

keeping us weighed down like lead baloons to the physical world
and - no , we're not from this plane

we ARE from this planet though , but not this dimension either

i rekon,
aliens are exactly - what we are , but in the "future " after
                             we've learnt how to time travel
and we come back ,
                                     and because 'we as earth' 'i.e - the current inhabitants -

AND WE REALISE ! THAT WE HAVE BEEN FOOLED! those,

who are under a dastardly spell,
woven into our minds good and deep - using words and symbols , number and name - anything to rise to that fame.......

Like an oil spill

                        it has swept through our eyes and blinded us from the truth that -.-
there is no such thing as time.

we just made it up

but there are such things as dimensions , we've seen them -  we've seen them crumble away before our very eyes and just exisit in momentary spots of delusions illusions

and the wonderful thing is our creations , effect our physical reality - what we make in our minds , we put out for the world to see , the other illusion is that somehow your mind is this dark foreign space .....YO...


MIND IS FULLY  light !  EVEN the shadows emit some kinda glow....
so vivid !  well , there's magic in there , and poines and stardust and sometimes
if you are very lucky someone will come along
and tell you about all kinds of yum! And play with you - there in the mind's garden
to create everything , materialy

i just, hope , that when we wake up - all of us - then ,

we are ready to face what will be a new dawn , in my eyes - humanity stands on the tip toes of heavens open armed throws or the pits of depths,

- that are diamond encrusted found after the coal has been left for centuries -

We are the those fabled stars...the ones that seem so far away...we ARE MADE UP of the same stuff , now tell me - who do i bow down to...i only give bows of respect. Earning it...

there are no more melodies,

sweeter nor more healing , than the eyes of love's serene face just , all magic and stuff, making me speechless and speech full , with the eyes that over throw ironic nonchalance , in a second and are ready for go up and get em and ready for snuggles in beds
this is the only story i've ever known and (you can not have written it!)

this is my life what i've discovered from my journeys findings..I hope you have your own take....but...what is that i hear you say? ....

....what happened?
Just, started , saying yes.
i guess..

and gradually , and quite elegantly with hindsight , this has been built.


and by tHIS i mean this poem.

pro's
prose ...
heh heh

Never tell me of my imperfections.
For it is my imperfections that make me who i am.

Dont make fun of the way i scratch my nose or wiggle my toes.
The idiosyncrasies i have make me what i am and what i will become.

Or rather who I will become.
Because I am not a what or will or whim or a dream.
I am a human just being in time and space.

Flittering around on a pinpoint of a globe I call home because I don't know what else to do with my existence.

I didnt come out of the womb knowing exactly what i would do one day.
Nor did I come knowing of all the lives I would impact upon.
I didnt come knowing who i am and how my personality would affect My lifespan.

I came out with sparkles in my eyes and a hunger to prove i belong in a society that doesn't want to approve of anyone in the first place.

They say that all little white girls like me are privileged.
Though they know everyone has a different struggle.
Society is a hypocrite.

One second it'll say that people like me are accepted.
The cracked, the gay, the rebel.
But then it's confused.
Because I'm pale white with blonde hair and blue eyes.
How could this mixture even be?

I dyed my hair when I was young because I was tired of being called ditzy.
I wore colored contacts because I thought my eyes were to bright for such a somber world.
It wasn't until I was older.

It wasn't until I was wiser.
That I realized that there is no such thing as society.
The brain is so complex and we are all so focused on fitting in that we created an invisible standard for ourselves.

Blacks are "ghetto"
Whites are "privlaged"
And every other racial color is bled from the picture.
Society,
This invisible standard,
Started hounding me from a young age, telling me my thighs and arms were always to big.

Or that I was less because I didn't wear makeup everyday like every other 15 year old trying to fit in.
The invisible standard would cut me down until I cut myself open at the seams.
Bleeding onto the pages of textbooks and papers that I need to "get somewhere" in life.

Bleeding onto those job applications that say that you need experience to earn the experience to get experience for the job that you need to pay for the student loans you had to get in order to earn that degree to get the job.

The invisible standard tells me that little pale skined, blonde haired, blue eyed girls like me who can't handle their ***** need to always look over their shoulder otherwise I'll be taken or drugged or *****.

That all little girls fathers have to stand at the door holding a shotgun telling a boy that he's not good enough for her.

But why
Isn't that the question.
Why does the father have to hold the shotgun?
Can't he raise her well enough that she knows a healthy relationship from a harmful one?

Or can he raise her well enough to know if a boy is treating her right or wrong?

The invisible standard we have set for ourselves is telling each of us we don't belong in the world.
That all of these pale white girls with blonde hair and blue eyes are fragile

But at the same time they are the dumb ones.

Obviously if I was dumb I wouldn't be here.
If I was what society has called me out to be I wouldn't be over a piece of paper pouring words from my psyche onto it with such a force that shook the foundation of society itself.

Because that's the thing about this invisible standard.

There's nothing that you actually have to prove to it because it doesn't even exisit.

Started with a bang,
Ended when you rang.
That call that night,
That gentle shove out of sight.
All is fair in love and war,
She left me looking for more.
I stole you from your past,
To only now be put in last.
She'll **** her theripist,
Until he gets ******.
And then she too will feel the crash,
Tossed aside broken in the trash.
And I can't decide how I feel,
Think about you day and night as if you're real.
Out of sight and out of mind you don't exisit,
But then why do I still crave your kiss?
How could I ever take you back,
You've erased us and cut the slack.
Nothing was wrong you just couldn't decide,
I'd love to forgive but I'd hate to lie.
You know I'll see you on the streets,
You know how much I'd love to drag you back to my sheets.
I stole you once I'll return to the scene of the crime,
I know all you want is time.
To hate is weak and to love is to be strong,
Never the less you are ******* wrong.
And I can't decide how I feel,
So I won't decide I'll just spin the wheel.

Missing all the 2 AM chats
about All the Things,
the this and thats.
You were always awake too.
Ready to share,
ready to care.
Ready to tell a story or two.
You drank in kindness,
with every black cup.
To the world's darkness,
you had blindness,
always... looking up.
Grandma, how can it be,
that you WERE?
How can you be,
not here with me?
You miss us all,
I am sure.
We miss you too.
In all the little things we do,
all the times we show how to care.
All those times...
You are there.
Never again...
Cannot be real.
My heart cannot begin,
To accept that deal.
I will laugh and cry and love,
with you.
Either here,
or above.
Do not forsake me,
in my Pagan ways.
Light my path,
these earthly days.
For to live, and laugh, and toil, and love,
with your whole heart,
I have heard...
is what makes a good life.
A good wife.
A soul well lived and learned.
But just in case,
Can you put in a good word?
For I cannot bear
to exisit in a world,
With you never again there.

Sometimes,
There is no point
In holding onto hope.
Sometimes
You just
exisit.
Maybe you are cast away,
Riding on the notes of of a piano
That drift into the empty lobby.
Where the carpet reminds you of your first apartment.

Maybe sometimes its all nonsense that fills your mouth and hoodwinks the special moments that shouldve felt like a rising sun after hours sitting in the cold. Thinking of revalations.

Maybe this cigarrette tastes like nihilism and the smoke looks like you feel.

Maybe your fingers are burning with lust of creation but the rest of you cant catch up.

Maybe you swallow and shift in your seat trying to peice together the exact moment that you couldnt stand waking up anymore. Maybe this nothing just isnt enough and you need more because the ciggarets stopped working a month ago and everytime you see yourself in the mirror its a shade of blue youve never seen before. And maybe in the shower with your head pressed agaisnt the tile you wonder how well the water would mix with your blood and how long the curtains could hide the scene.

Maybe when you look at the stars it doesnt look like forever but feels like a box with little pinholes poked in the top so you can get just enough air. Maybe your chest collapses trying to figure out how to breath again and maybe nothing helps and it all tastes like ash and maybe you punch the ground, ****** your knuckles and look at the damage with a strange curious numbness wonder what just happened.

Maybe tomorrow...

Maybe not.