This Mess

Countless questions,
thoughts,
sighs,
prayers,
hopes,
doubts,
dreams,
fears,
beliefs,
memories,
visions,
emotions
explosively collide in my head.
Whew, some storm.
Perhaps explaining the headache I suffer from?
(Another question.)
This mess intermingles, intertwines, and tangles itself together so passionately
then rips itself apart like a violent breakup of lovers,
leaving me dazed and seeing colorful star bursts.
Oh, I feel this destruction swelling within…
My veins, pressured by a river of adrenaline, fatten.
My heart, no longer willing to keep a steady rhythm, beats intensely.
Erratically even.
I struggle to catch my breath because apparently I’m chasing it
though I’m standing still—and this pose takes a colossal effort.
And then the tears come.
They may fall from my eyes, but they come from everywhere.
Everywhere.
They’re angry tears fueled by confusion.
They’re tears of sadness that should have been shed long ago.
The tears come suddenly, but I remember to stop them.
Bottle them up then empty them into the deep ocean within me,
which I think once upon a time was a mere pond.
There’s a voice that says to let the tears flow,
but the potential damage of the flood is...is...too much.
It’s too damn much.
And so I, in an undignified manner, wipe my eyes and clear my throat.
(I never did cry pretty.)
And so I stand a little straighter.
And so I breathe a little deeper.
And so I shake my head and everything in it.
And so I move on, having settled nothing.
But moving feels good.
So, so, so good.
And at least if I’m moving
this mess has to work to keep up.
If I’m moving I’m alive,
it means I’m alive.
Amen,
I’m alive.

These Roads

These roads are all wet

in this drizzling rain

on this dark, dark evening

and, as such,

appear to be metallic.

The lights of this town

filter through the raindrops,

which smudge the black night,

and hit the pavement reflecting light

in such a beautiful, textured way.

There’s depth to these roads now

and romance

for they seem new and exciting somehow.

These roads are different,

like they’re streets in a large city

as opposed to being

the same damn small town roads

I travel on each day.

These roads are magic

in the rain on this night.

They’re city streets.

And I see them taking me

on an adventure of sorts—

nothing grand, mind you,

but an adventure nonetheless.

Some place foreign to me

where I can get lost.

But these streets are just roads

and these roads

only take me home.

Back to Peace

Last night, or I guess very early this morning, I was sorting through old journals and the different loose leaf inserts stuffed in them.  It was fun finding thoughts and ideas that haven't been developed just yet.  Oh if I had all the time in the world I would really enjoy spending my days writing and painting and dreaming and doodling and thinking and praying... 

Anywho, I also found an old poem/song thingy that I wrote back in October of 2006.  I thought I'd share it with you.  I hope you enjoy it.

BACK TO PEACE

It’s dark and the stars have to fight

to shine their light tonight

and the moon, it’s not in sight.

I’m chilled by a cool breeze

and it’s taking everything in me

not to fall to my knees.

It’s so hard to see when I have nothing to search for.

So hard to dream when I have nothing to reach for.

See my world is one day and one day only.

Until now I never knew being surrounded could be so lonely.

So please dull this pain and let me sleep.

Please bring me back, back to peace.

I can’t make sense of this

and the truth is, the truth is

I’m so pissed.

This is so real it must be fake.

It hurts just to be awake.

I may not fall apart, but I still break.

It’s so hard to move forward when I want the past.

Hard to move at all when I know my strength won’t last.

See my world is one day and one day only.

Until now I never knew being surrounded could be so lonely.

So please dull this pain and let me sleep.

Please bring me back, back to peace.

All I ask for is life, renew it.

Do whatever you have to, please do it.

Doesn’t matter if it’s risky, you can’t ruin it.

You can’t wreck what’s been broken

And you can’t take what’s been stolen.

It may be gone, but I’m still holding—holding on.

It’s so hard to whole when I’m missing a piece.

So hard to be full when I feel so damn empty.

See my world is one day and one day only.

Until now I never knew being surrounded could be so lonely.

So please dull this pain and let me sleep.

Please bring me back, back to peace.

Shift the dark to the side

and bring heaven to life.

Shine it’s light in my eyes.

Please bring me back…

Please bring me back…

Please bring me back, back to peace.

The makings of a poem...

I found the makings of a poem just now.  I'm not quite sure when I wrote it and it's still so raw, but it reflects how I am feeling at the moment...  I'll hopefully come back to it soon and rework it. 

She awakes,
unwillingly shrugging sleep off of her shoulders.
The blanket slides to her side as she sits up
and breathes deeply,
the smell of sleep lingering in the air—
still intoxicating.
She’s drunk on her dreams,
which dully flash to mind.
The colors have dimmed and shapes blurred.
More like she’s hung-over from their brilliance.

Do you see?
Do you see how the waking world
immediately changes the power of the dreams?
Once so vivid and inspiring.
Now they fade in the light of day.
She longs for what she found in them—
for what they found in her.

She wants nothing more than to curl up
in her feather bedding,
this nest of warmth and peace.
But all birds must learn to fly,
so she leaps into a new day.

The First

I recently found a copy of the first poem I ever wrote and by wrote I mean sing... It was back in 1989 and I was five years old, hence I couldn't write. Apparently I was singing a song that I came up with. I remember my dad sitting at the kitchen table writing down the words I sung to him. Later my mom used it in our family Christmas card making me a published poet...or something like that. Anywho, here is the poem:

My heart starts beating...
The angels watch from above.
When the night is glowing,
the stars shine and
the moon starts to
wake up the night.
And when someone needs help,
I help them too.
I keep my heart beating.

Release

Last night my mind was kept up by thoughts of poetry. Little thoughts were tapping me on my shoulder seemingly saying, "Excuse me, um excuse me. I'm here for you. Do something with me please." And so, per their request, I did not ignore these thoughts. I paid close attention to their suggestions, "Put me here. Join me with that thought. I belong there." What resulted was the first poem I have written in quite some time and it was the accomplishment of my day. I stayed up into the wee hours of the morning in order to weave these thoughts into meaning before they slipped away and escaped me forever. The ironic part is that I denied myself sleep so as to pen a poem about cherishing sleep. Funny how that works out isn't it? Well, at least I think that it is funny. Anywho, here is the poem...

"Release"

When sleep comes and settles
into the seams of your eyes
for the evening,
quietly sealing away
the chaos of the world,
I hope it opens up the doors
painted in red, yellow, blue, and green
to your similarly vivid dreams.
So that in sleep you are awakened
to the truth you have desperately stored
in a forgotten nook of your heart.
I pray you release yourself
and reach in then out
into the endless possibilities.
That you roam freely under
the forgiving starry sky,
tending to your spirit along the way.
And when you feel your body start to stir
I hope you gather your being back up
with open arms and return
to the boundaries of your body.
May you gently wipe the sleep from your eyes
and peer through your fluttering eyelashes
before welcoming the light of a shiny new morning.
Awaking with peace and thanks
to another day of the merciful mess
affectionately known as life.

Description

The man walks about with untied shoes
and wears no jacket in the bitter cold.
He knows the art of punctuation
and what a perfectly placed comma
will do to a person.
Drinks cheap vodka
like it's water,
literally pissing away his money.
He scratches himself
and never combs his hair.
He paints portraits of people
in their true colors as he sees them
and laughs at their reactions to his work.
He doesn't vote
or believe in politics
or even watch the news.
Can't swim or dance,
but still dives into the rhythm of the tide.
He speaks nonsense to please his therapist
and occasionally phones his mother.
Calls me woman,
not girl or young lady,
but woman.

The man is dangerous.

Bring On a New Day

It’s late, but there’s life in these homes yet.
People are still awake
and I’m on the outside.
Yes I’m on the outside looking in,
wondering if they’re happy
and if so,
can I be happy like them?

See my life is not so bad,
but I can’t shake this feeling of sad
and I don’t know why,
so I just cry.

I don’t want to think,
don't want to think this way.

So bring on a new day.
Bring on tomorrow.
Bring on a new day
and let go of this sorrow.

Because in order to be held,
I have to let go of myself.
In order to be held,
I have to let go.

It’s just that this hurt
wears a different kind of shirt,
it’s yellow in my mind,
but it’s not mine.

I don’t want to think,
don't want to think this way.

So bring on a new day.
Bring on a true peace.
Bring on a new day
and bring on the release.

Because in order to be held,
I have to let go of myself.
In order to be held,
I have to let go.

It’s late, but there’s life in my head yet.
Thoughts are still awake
and I’m sitting inside.
Yes I’m sitting inside looking out,
wondering if they’re happy
and if so,
what is happy all about?

Bring on a new day,
bring on a new day
and let go.
Bring on a new day
and embrace my soul.

What I Meant to Say Was

Your life flashing before your eyes.
A flash of light.
The flash of a Kodak Moment.
Flashing your cards.
A flash bomb.
Flashing a smile.
The innocent flash of cleavage.
A flash and it was gone.

Brilliant.

It Was Then

Your eyes took me in
and your hand traced
the outline of my body
on its way to my hand
and your lips parted ways
in order to smile
before coming back together
to meet mine.

You, darling, fully embraced me
in that brief span of time.

And it was then,
at that very moment
that I realized
I would be alone.

Still Here

It's the end of now
and the beginning of new,
the New Year
and I'm still here.

I never left here.
The same place,
same waste.
Alone, alone.

I fall apart,
but stay together.
Need to be,
or my mind will lose me.

I come back here.
The old place,
old waste.
Move on, move on.

Even when moving
I stop dead.
I don't know
where I go.

I always end up here.
The same place,
same waste.
Hold on, hold on.

I wonder if I
will ever change,
or if I'll make
resolutions to break.

I'm going to leave here.
A new place,
new grace.
Become, become.

Tomorrow

My head, it hurts.
It hurts me
and I want to hurt it back,
badly.
So I think.
I think and now
I can't get the thought
out of my head
of putting a bullet in it.

Sometimes in order
to find the way out
you need to find a way in.

But it's a good thing that
I don't believe in guns
and an even better thing that
I believe in tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my way in and out.

Persevere

She sits in quiet solitude
sifting through her mind
for answers to questions
she has yet to find.
Searching in every last
fold of her brain,
trying to figure out
all that it contains.
She's waiting for something
meaningful and truly profound
to make its way to her
and turn her life around.
Because it's hard to know
what direction to take
when looking for life,
even if walking by faith.

But she can't stand still,
nor get lost in the moment
so she moves onward in her day
no longer willing to postpone it.
She doesn't have to make sense
of everything in one sitting
for she is positive that
in life there is no quitting.

Marathon

Many people get on their knees to pray,
but she assumed the holy position
and made it sinful.

It's strange how one can be awake
and yet,
not be awake.
But that is pain for you.

When she awoke
to some degree of clarity
and looked up,
her being drained
and flushed out of her eyes.
Rain.

When she looked up,
she did not see God.

And when she was left there
alone on her knees
she sought immediate forgiveness.
She begged for forgiveness
from herself.

Unable to do so,
she climbed to her feet
and ran away.

She still runs today.