salt offerings to the wounds of pride
difference between dark of doom
and the engine of simple summer eve

night sustains but
but doom is the door to the
great beyond and the fates fair or foul
that awaits each of us

a voice echoes along the path
to all the heavens ever proposed by mans thought
that voice speaks of years
spins a tale of labors
whispers songs of longing
quietly shouts story's of horror

reserve your strengths friend
for the battle yet to come
hush your unquiet mind
and lay your head down to rest
soon enough blades shall stir to war
soon enough widows shall gather their children to
graveside rememberence of fallen fathers

as trailing edge of summer day
slips into the past
the depth and majesty of summer night unfolds
crickets and the sounds of feasting familys
warm breeze in the tall grass
the sand of a beach on your fingertips
simple joys in our world and of our lives
are the counterbalance the
the dark things in our world

The artifacts were sent back to myself from a place of memory and rememberence. I could not tell at first that these were artifacts sent to me from myself.  They were everday simple things. The first one was a small compact mirror my mother owned. I use to reflect sunlight with the mirror and follow the beam of light with my eyes as it travelled through space and time.

The second artifact was a red rock I found in our back yard. It had this crimson like color no other rock had in the area it seemed.  I held the rock as I layed in my bed one evening seeing the planet I found.

The final artifact was a circular thick crystal lens. My brother and I found this lens inside an old abandoned house next to my grandmothers house.  When held close to a light you could see the spinning galaxies within this universe.

Earlier versions of myself sent these artifacts to the present to show me in the now that it was possible to see the universe from within. That a planet can be held in a hand. And that light can be captured.

Laments and shouts
Harsh words and strangled throuts
Slamed doors, hurting doubts...

This is how I will always remember you.

Green irises on blankets of red veins
Fighting, denying, throwing blames
I see you walking before my eyes
Smoking, cursing...then despise
The morbid silence in me,
All the truths I began to see.

Torned,I turn my look around
On these ***** dishes,
My real thoughts will never be found;
My foolish dreams, my childish wishes.

Please, don't wake up now
I'm almost at the door-
On fighting, I've withdrawn.
A thirst for tireness, always for more.

You used to have a spirit
Of glee and perseverance,
That's been long forgotten
In my childhood rememberence.

Life became life...
But you had to stir it!

Stir all its issues with a three-bladed knife
Abandon all the good we had
On departed kites,
Keep ur pride on exorbitant hights,
Which chained my life with no rights
Of change and reabilitation,
My eyes dried of solitude and depression
Since I was born.
You've become a white shadow
In a black mind whose thoughts
Lie in storms.

Pitch black,
An everlasting darkness.
Pushing, shoving
Its way through the crowd,
Out into the world
Overtaking everything
And everyone
That steps in its path.

Feeling powerless,
Tears become the raindrops
That cover everything.
There’s a war raging all around us...

A loud, angry cry
From the depths of Hell,
A sharp thorn
That pierces through the skin.
Flash of lightening,
Rumble of thunder,
The tears of all those watching,
The world ends.

Feeling powerless,
Their tears become
The subtle raindrops that
Cover the scenery.
There’s a war raging all around us...

Then someone steps up
Out of the darkness
And stands up to it all.
Slowly,everyone around begins to stand up,stand up
Everyone,everyone.
No matter their skin color, race, nationality
Or anything,anything,
They all become united.
They are together
As one.
The thunder begins to fades away
Out in the distance
The sky transforms from
Black
To a tranquil blue.
The rain slows down until it is gone.
It’s finally over,
The nightmare
That seemed to go on for eternity.
And hope has finally
Returned.
Feeling powerless
Is finally over.
Tears become the raindrops
Of the rain that’ll fall
Someday long from now
In rememberence of the Hell we endured.
The war raging all around us
Is over

Until it starts up again.

I remembered him clearly,
the waves of his hair,
when it blew in the wind,
told a story.
His lips,
god his lips,
sanely soft when I caressed mine over his.
He was the kind of man that every woman
searched for,
the kind you think is within an arms reach,
but when you reach out to grasp,
slips between the cracks of your fingers.
And like a trophy,
he was something to look at,
but not something to touch.
He left marks on souls.
the kind where you longed for more of him,
the kind you feel empty without.
And when it's over,
you're left alone,
with the unsettling memory of him.

I get this feeling
dew drops in window panes its 5 am
,the cold is stinging me and my back feels a bit sore from the different weather
life stings outside
I lay motionless, half asleep I look at my furniture and my ceiling
and I get this feeling

I looked at all my old things
remembered holding them as a child
and my stomach caves in
moisture slides down my chin
as I overlap the different colors on the wall with a half grin

I go somewhere in my head where I have never been
sitting on top of the wall of berlin
tearing to get to that thing that is so much deeper than under my skin
I open my eyes slowly to get the perfect glance,
whisper sin

Im a deluded dreamer trapped in the core of someone elses refuge
its not mine

it was never mine

hollow filled with courses from my bloodline
I leaned back as I adorned the crevice in your jawline
defined and explicit irrational and sensitive
from that I resign
water moving down like wine into our skyline,
Im overturned into your pshyco love mass incorporated to burn bridges
and start a upheavel of immense love and rememberence
of all your most beautiful things
hidden in my cabin in the naked blue forest I have dripped down
with my hands
morphed into something bloodcurdling on a whirlwind
with gracious hormones of anarachy built under all your
comely bones

I have not written a poem in awhile
That is out of my ordinary style
Lately I seem to be happy
Just to pray and smile
This is quite fine
I know my Father has an ultimate
Purpose for me
It may seem as if it is changing
Constantly, it is for others to see
His existence through me
To become a fanner bee
To pray for others
In a world filled with sin
Closer to Our Father
I pray, my prayers,
will bring them
A starting point
To open the door for
The healing to begin
Our Father begot His Son
Easter is rememberence
That through our Savior
Christ Jesus resurrection
Our lives have just begun
A blessing Jesus left with us
The Holy Spirit to guide everyday
If we open our hearts and eyes
We will see His light
In amazing ways.
HAPPY GOOD FRIDAY
ENJOY EASTER BLESSINGS EVERYDAY

I run under the fall sun, warm and kind it was, made the dead leaves sparkle with color..

But this is how it begins, The leap, the jump, the opening of an unseen door without color..

Suppose the world and time can be bent by simply thinking without thoughts that are the memory of color..

In doing so I run into the unseen door and begin to see that there is a plain without color..

Where there is no reflection of any sort, no kind of emotion, just the seconds that die as they pass leaving behind no color..

This is the place where one can take back the seconds by the rememberence of color..

Although a mere reflection to our eyes, color is truly the source of where life is given in meaning due to splash that is color..

But today I made the mistake of not remembering what this flower sang to my eyes with its color..

I gave to it the color red when in true remembernce it was blue thus giving it a false color..

I then returned to a chaos where colors were mixed and out of place, where the waters were remembered as yellow instead of deep blue, where the sun was green that shined down on this yellow world simply because I forgot this colorless flower's color..

I've found the strongest poems to be the product of
a purge of emotions that reign so ******* the heart that they
pull at the fingers, draining energy from the tips
as every word falls onto the paper,
relentlessly.

I've felt the hollow shatter of a thousand nights of heartbreak,
the kind that only poetry can seem to glue back together
even if temporarily.
The words on the page, unfiltered
broadcast thoughts of late summer days and first loves,
first losses,
our wrists ache with rememberence as our hearts empty out.

We lose what we thought we still held to our souls
as the sentences unfold and we are finally able to articulate
what it means to be without,
what it means to be empty.
Those lines are but udnerstanding, full of compassion that we have still, hidden away in our hearts for the day they start beating again.


Why are the richest of poems products of the poorest of days,
and why can I write nothing anymore
as my heart feels full, for once, again?

What strange creatures are we,
Humans,
Capable of finding something that is by all means ordinary suddenly beautiful and new.

One-sided feeling,
Perpetual curiosity,
Argumentative to a fault,
Falsehoods for no good reason.

Waking up at peace with the world,
And suddenly become flooded with the awful rememberence that someone you loved was forever gone.

What odd creatures are we.

Never allowing us to truly rest on our laurels when we lose someone
Smiling upon those times with them where everything was good,
A sad smile of times lone gone,
Gone with the autumn leaves.

I pulled you out
The way I fell in
I've got lots of stories to tell
Not one involving you
You've got memories to lose
All of them concerning me
Open hearts left overused
Time goes on
We just feel worse
There was a time when we counted on each other to be there
Now that seems naive
Do you feel the same?
You've given it some thought and your scared to death of me
I've seen the darkest sides of hell
Moments with you seem like a brighter heaven in rememberence
You helped pull me out
The way you fell in
We've been broken and bruised
None of it feels real
We were sleeping with this silence in our minds
Now it seems all the words are flowing evenly
It looks like we made a fool out of heartbreak
We're reckless my strange love
We're lucky we're still breathing
You saved me
And I sorta saved you
The lovers that went wrong
We ended up in love I guess we're the lucky ones

the trees fall down
and they have came and left so quickly
this nature of life
should I say goodbye so easily
when I feel like the hello has barely embraced my quivering lips
that quivered in your days
some powerless
some overwhelming with a feeling of conquer

should I forget you and move on
as time dosent wait for you or me
than why should I

is it done, and this new white page
it just sits in front of me
this blank book, of what is yet to come
within more bewildered days
of love, meeting, rememberence, conversation, wine and hope

I left my country
I left everyone in it
I casted myself away from destructive situations
one that lead back to that one boy
no not him
it was another one
that I casted myself from
the other was a simple breeze that I let rub my cheeks
and didnt think twice about its angry departure
I simply let the madness caress me
and then when it threatened me I left fruitfully
laughter lingering behind my back

I lived on different land
sang on different land
I delved into abstract minds and conversation on different land
I held hands on different land
I kissed on different land
and evidently I weeped and suffered on different land

I sat down watching them yell and scream in happiness
its a new chapter in the life of the universe, and me
I was on sand floating on less familiar waters
in my beautiful country

I went further into loneliness than most would dare
sat there in the mountains weekend after weekend
keeping myself company
it was then and there I realized more of me
got a better feel of what I was really like

I came back to find what I left
but this time things seemed prettier
the water tasted sweeter
life seemed heavier
and my soul it felt lighter
while I sunk in deeper
to you and you and you
and you who stuck out
you who patience struck like a vertical war blade
in parts of me I didnt know had life

patience, it fell on a rock that was harder than I thought
in the pit of my stomach
like hands gripping me tightly
I gripped onto you tightly
I held you there for as long as I could
till meaning came to my story
and I was able to decipher
that this wasnt like those novels I read when
I was a little girl
although I felt like I child
when your air would mingle with me
and your laugh would
make
my
hands
shake

--
little to none was the worst
in where drunken nights lead to drunken mornings
which lead to drunken fights
on drunken hearts
they beat differently

and now
now I think differently
and its a new year

Light stain darkness..
Rememberence of shine..
Shadow your smile..
For the light has left its mark..

Part of me doesn’t even remember what it feels like to be in love. But another part of me finds it difficult to forget.

Sometimes I feel nothing but independence and I can’t possibly begin to remember how I felt when my life, my feelings, my mind were intertwined with another person who influenced every thought, every feeling, and every decision. I can’t possibly fathom what it felt like when life now is so impossibly different and intertwined lives have extra-twined themselves back into separation.

Then, there are the moments when everything is back. The moment  when the man behind the college booth tells a too-long story and he pronounces a word the way you used to. Which takes me back to that night on the phone when you told me a too-long story but I gripped every word with my fist and held it close to my heart, and I felt the words grow like vines up my arms and wrap themselves around my heart, and I warned myself not to forget the way you said those words and the emotion I heard in them. And I told myself not to forget every pause you took because I wanted to find the things you said in silence. I remember every time I looked at you, every time we shared a glance. The moment that we decided we were having more fun than any other two people in the entire world. The moment we discussed the fact that we must be meant for each other, because obviously no one else could understand what the two of us knew to be true without ever conveying it in words. And there are the moments where I remember how horrific it all was. I sit in a place on my floor that I’ve sat on a thousand times and all of a sudden I’m reminded of the time I sat on that floor and cried for 12 hours straight. I remember every time you had that tone and every time it broke me down. I remember every time you left, every time I missed you, every time I would have given anything to take it back, to have you there, to say one more thing, to tell you I loved you. How much it hurt. How much you hurt. How much I hurt you. I never knew I could experience such sadness, such ecstasy.

But still, those moment of rememberence are fleeting. Most of the time I can’t believe we ever felt that way. We are disconnected. We have lost it.

I will find it again.

I have always preferred the ancient, crippled and malformed ruins of places. The backbones of civilisation laid bare upon the ribs of the earth, I see more beauty in this destruction than angel's houses that stand tall and golden, shimmering in the light of the sun and preserved as if God's own hand had molded them. They are wrong.
See here the gloat of man! How we scream for attention and praise using the shining foundations of an unknown God to control the known masses and make them believe we are bigger than we are; bigger than the dirt that molded us and the humble springs that nutured us. We are not infallible nor unbreakable as those golden houses would tell. We are as fleeting and finite as the ages of man passed in bare rememberence.
We build our homes amongst ruins and return to them despite any prayers, temples, or carved angels, we are born from dust and we return to it, with no divide to say what man served what god or what coin filled who's purse.
The dark takes everything and does not hold favourites.

Spent time of honor
with those that would
throw themselves into flames
without protest.

Lyrics drawn upward,
only for angels to hear
and the dead to remember.

Pride obtained on behalf
of those seen
without and unwilling.

tomorrow is rememberence time to say a prayer
to those who lost there lives show them that we care
gave there bravery  as they went to war
fighting for there country to be free again once more

fighting day and night on the battle ground
all the bombs and bullets flying all around
putting up a fight with there bravery
fighting for there country so we could be free

I have a great familiarity with the night
Midieval conscious flowering in flight
I wish to speak to you soon
In the light of the moon
Don't fall from me
My words will slip through the grass, and the dew  
Your presence a subtle, comforting silk sinew, and carry on

Shower me in the forests embrace
The birds call, the pollen's jolly mace
What do I do from the ember burning low
When a fire has come to warm my home
Your posting smile, I wish to want to behold

Please beckon my drunken call
The sticks, the leaves, the silent waterfall
I only could dream I knew the rings of the oak
Instead I count the thoughts on the night that we spoke
Where, if at all, will the spring's roots grow.

Those hours spin on
In great rememberence, divine demi-consciousness  
And I only wish to you
To spill the cup from which I drank
And start it all anew.

out of the darkness they carry my heart
into the dawn, as the wrens sing,
i am lifted into the light
and i see who is my maker

i see my angel who lifts me above my suffering
into as well as above my head
i am guided by the lightness of their being
to realize i am never alone; never without their compassion
even though i often feel such a lack

and as i soar through the early morning sky,
i see a new picture of myself--
whole, beautiful, gracious in my own skin
and tears of rememberence of an innocent
child i was

was so lost
but now reclaimed as an adult
now i have the power to break the chains that
keep me from True living; True love
and i am free.

All night
Sicker than the day is blue
Not that anyone would notice
Side effect of hiding things for too long
Up with friends
Silly little games
You know how the story goes
Teams, random chance, competition
Some how I ended up next to you
I can't believe I'm about to say this
But I completely forgot about you
We spent a few weeks as friends
But then life got in the way
And the struggle carried on
Leading to the rememberence of those nights
Spent drunk
You were the only one who laughed with me
The one who actually understood all the jokes
Maybe the one who saw behind my glasses
A few hours next to eachother
Maybe we reconnected
Maybe we didn't
But the only thing that changed for tonight
Was that I remembered you
And what you meant to me

Yesterday light strings..
I strum them with memory glow..
Rememberence of her smile..
To yesterday I go..

Grasses so green..
So cool to my bare feet..
I race my little brother..
Around my grandmothers house in the late spring..

Under bridges, Along the creek bed..
Countless ghost hear voices..
Boys fishing and swiming..
Riding bikes down the hill screaming..

Beautiful fun spirit..
Alive and strong..
Memories of color..
Memories of voices and song..

Just in case

What if Eve, as an easy lable for YMRCA, were

the first wombed man with wit to make her will known,
vocally?

What if she could sing, and smile, wink and
blink and look away,

coy, from the crib.

She steals, so'ld say the tales, her daddy's heart, but not so fast

this is, say 120 KYA, as current model mortals mark time
since most recent common mom... walked balanced, upright...
I bet she could dance and sing... but
some reason or another, now

no offspring of any mom alive when YMRCA walked, walks now.

Not upright, ya sher... maybe eve was the only wombed man.

What if, any of that, but this is a strue as we may know...

all construed facts point to life being
struely
not as simple as a boom... though there are ways to end it,
as we say we well know,

we've seen the cancers... mental deranging during mind wandering,

we have heard the stories,
Hydes who remained,

but only Post-mortal Marvel has myths where Hyde is the happy side.

Silly, I would love to have friends.
But no stupid people, none un willing to use a word of the day
to escape a bout of ignorant rage

-- Brubeck, Sonny... yeah like the Sundance Kid's prison flick,
-- but Sonny was a first gen Jesus Freak,
with one of those, at will, eididic memory's.
He also owned the first digital watch I ever saw. I thought he was rich.

In a rage, Sonny once screamed in my hearing,

GOD WHY MUST THERE BE OTHER PEOPLE?

as orderly types were taking him, strapped to gurney,
to Camarillo State Hospital,
a truly beautiful place for solitary rememberence
of everything
you ever said or did. Like, the window of your soul

become the big screen, with no body projected there...

all around me everyone is not there...

then I see, I guess, this is a way that prayer was remembered as

Sonny slowly rose to re
ify a present with other people in it, but masked.

For thought and rememberence you remain
Your heart had suffered all that pain
I no longer know what to do
With the memory of you

Burn it, cut it into pieces
Unfortunately your striking features
Are still there even though your gone
Your memory is still shining strong

Whether here, across the table from us
Or they're just a fading rememberence
The radiant truth burns brightly as thus
The stars must confess of their existence

Somewhere, far away, linger thoughts actions
Told through the universe's consciouness
Which are now freely dancing vibrations
Enticing souls with their vivaciousness

And here we are; the long lost counter parts
Lighting the till where time taxed the stars tolls
While the trepidatious mourn hums it's heart
We make our seperate ways as complex wholes

Yet as far fetched as this story all sounds
We are reflections in the stars rebounds

mY OUTLOOK HAD CHANGED IN AN INSTANT..
Without hope for so long..  
And found in just a second..
I looked toward the setting sun..
For once I felt alive..
I walked alone in the night with this new found hope..
Oh where oh where did you come from?
I smile at the thought of knowing it was always there..
Never was I truly without it..
The music is beautiful to me again..
The color of your eyes light up my soul..
The rememberence of magic colors my aura again..
This nightmare is ending now..
I hold the hand of hope as we wake up together hand and hand..
I say goodbye to the void..
I say goodbye to the gray me..
I awake to a sun filled room..
The last image I have is that of the gray me smiling at me..
His tears were blue..

It was done..
I did it..
I took everything back..
And the images started to float into my mind..
The wind swayed the grass once again..
The plants stood full of life in the soil under the rain..
And the sun shined down on my son once again..

I am sad to know that this will be the last time I will see such beauty..
From afar and up close..
From above and beyond..
But I am content that I am the one who brought such beauty back to a world engulfed by shadow..
The darkness screams at me as my light splinters it away into a shine of oblivion, into a chaos of dancing light..

I will live on prayer now and the rememberence of my son shining in the sun..
Live through them son as they will live through you..
To believe in one is to believe in all..
Even if its your mother u believe in or your brother or sister or simply a friend..
You at least know what it is to believe in something or someone..
That in itself is worth more than anything else..
I leave you this peace...

In this modern world.
An Ancient Soul crying out.
For rememberence.

why did you have to smile at me..
could you not of just walked on by and ignored me..
i noticed you first..
you had this luster to you that i wanted to hold you close and smell your hair..
vibrant skin, eyes the color of the earths emrealds..
long brown hair seem to flow with no wind..
and then the smile as we walked on by eachother..
that smile made my heart race..
that smile made time stop..
that smile silenced all sound..
for just a moment..
it happen to me..
i watched you walk on by as you faded away never looking back..
your smile added colors to my soul..
a color of rememberence, and a color of never seeing you again..

If I could paint one picture, what our love meant to me
I'd paint such a masterpiece, where the sunset meets the sea.
Splashing vibrant colors, reds mixed in with blues.
Combined with orange and yellows, all soaked in for you.
This sunset placed in lovely frame, would hang and last forever.
Though, unlike such a special piece, we wouldn't stay together.
Each night sun and ocean met, once more they became one.
Our love, however, didn't last the dreams had come undone.
The painting would forever then be  rememberence of me and you.
Of how we couldn't harmonize, as the sun and ocean do.

Can I truly love, that which I have never loved?
Be, that which I cannot, truly, be?
Is it lack of forgiveness, or lack of remorse?
A lack of compassion, lack of empathy?
Do I truly not care?
Any glance I give to a memory of her
Only resides in the cynical.
The emotional phisique, deplorable to me.
The compassion, pathetic.
The frailty, a weakness.
The love, indifferent.
How so?
Why so?
So?

Part of taking upon the name of Christ,
Is loving without a price.
Caring without recompense.
Forgiveness without the thirst for vengence.
So many were touched by her loving hand.
Many were changed forever.

But, I was one of the few that weren't;
I fell to the brunt of her brutality.
Her lagging trust.
Unforgiving eye.
Because I, myself, was capable without help.
I didn't fit her standard of being less.
I didn't need built up, I wasn't repressed.
I was myself, and needed not another,
I didn't help, was I ever a brother?
I don't necessarily show that don't I care
With words, compliments taste weird in my mouth.
Yet, all the same, I do much for my friends.
I'm there, an ulterior influence.

But that is no matter, I never said kind.
Never did display a physique: benign.
I'm troubled she never trusted my word.
I spoke truth, when she 'ccused me of wrong.
Never, once, had I stepped out of line.
I was myself, I held to the line.
But, still, she never thought well of me.
Every hug that I gave, felt hollow— empty.
Have I done any wrong? Am I the problem?
Maybe I've over-thought all of this!
Yet, why can I not find a time where she wasn't?
Where I wasn't treated cynically?
No memory, no emotion, no influence?

"This page was made in rememberence of Ms._
To celebrate her many years of teaching."
Memories, pictures, stories, events.

Not one of them mine, no joyful remembrance.