Hopeless romanticism

Who the hell writes men as hopeless romantics?!?! I mean really guys-does this happen? Because in all My experience, granted it ain't much, I have yet to see one. I have seen guys who care about their significant other. I have seen men that put on a damn good display to get into a relationship. I have also seen husbands that go out of their way to do nice things for their wife. But a hopeless romantic is still some breed of lost man.
Hopeless romantic is the guy we all walk on. The one who has ideas of grandeur and of making someone else happy above himself always. This isn't some guy who does it to get the vagina points-nay-he does it because it truly is his calling. If you listed five qualities about the kid-romantic would be top 5. He mentions the girl he is is love with all the time. He makes sure he never lays a stray hand on her belly, because one day that will be the sanctum in which his child resides. He waits on her hand and foot even if ti is completely unnecessary and he ditches friends who talk about getting pussy and how they hate their girlfriends. "Those type of people don't have respect for anyone, including themselves,is the mantra." He does these things not just for 2 week relationships, but for 10 year ones that rip him apart. He still kindly answers the phone call of all the women who slummed it with him, and aren't afraid to say it. He answers if for nothing else that to say "I am sorry you are hurting, but I can't love you as I did." All the gentle kindness he had before he was torn to shreds. The hopeless romantic is the man who puts his family first and makes a point to think of obscene ways to chow he cares to everyone around him. Who goes against any cultural norm and will question them in public. I think this is probably one of the most courageous figures to depict in our society. Someone who gives a shit and is not only about number one-like our individualistic culture so preaches to BOTH sexes-is a gem indeed. I guess I have seen some women who feel this way.Many who do not know how to show it, but hold it deep inside, buried within the walls of a society that has walled her off from wanting a partner, accepting interdepence and seeking to show love above all else. I know these secrets because I am a woman-and every once in a while one of us becomes weakened and lets a very close friend know that all they want is a partner to care for and who cares for them. They want a team-not two I's. Two I people make a great team except to work together one has to sometimes think better of the we than the I and put ego aside.

Anyways-I think the movies portray a man that is like this. I do not know of any who seek what women have expressed they seek-because I am not a man and they don't tell me their secrets as they would a man.  I find this courageous and beautific creature a thing of myth at this time.
And, for the record, fuck everyone. Fairy tales do exist if you're willing to be someone else's prince charming while still desiring to be swept off your feet.

random?

The ideas have come and gone-flown and created great murders of animals whizzing above my head at break neck speeds. I haven't yet wrung any of their necks and scribed in their blood. But I will...maybe, eventually. I think, as a writer, sometimes things meld and become forgotten. I have been so overcome with writing down ideas I forgot that the joy of creation is in the art of letting it come out as it wishes. Control has no place in artistry, as it has no place in any matter of the heart. Only a fool would try to control that which motivates and guides his heart.
The ideas will ferment and fossilize eventually and maybe til then they can roam the earth. The next great natural disaster may incinerate them into my hand an demand their story be told. So it goes. SO I hope it does-because, let's be honest here, what am I if not controlled. Stifled-rather. As an aside, I notice patterns in my writing-which make me feel predictable, uninteresting and anti-creative-NO like!

I digress, I began a new counseling fraught with almost 2 hour sessions of trauma work (ahhhh), EMDR, hypnosis and neurofeedback. Hold on friends-this is going to be one wild ride. I am a little excited and more than a little afraid to pull the monkey off my back-examine it and then-hopefully discard the burden of my past. If I were a character in morrowind I would have to have maxed out my stamina by this point. . . and I have still been unable to run despite all my endurance specs. The weight has simply become too much. Here goes nothin.

Arisen

I found a tarnished box
of golden letter fortresses
I slept awhile
amidst the treasure
and polished but my portion

I ciphered all knowledge where-in
I found myself the wiser
to see the sightly loving grin
The combatant to The Miser

I found her words of wisdom there
Thereby removing visor
The labels clung along corpus collasum
questioning Life's abundant fare
I sat to bask in title
The Ariser
 

Figure me out

In light of love
Stranded on the wings of a sopping dove
Hope tarnished by God above
No tidings of care can Winter bring


In neon screens.
Renders twisting amorous deeds
Inside pounding heart bleeds
The lost soul cries for nursing

In faint sightings
I  quandary you soul's invitings
The musings leave me reeling,insighting
I'll hear you tick-tocking away

The seconds they sing of 
the love of a drenched dove
In screams  alluring
Inciting feelings so beige

(Fairly complex rhyme scheme here so I had to figure it out. It goes a-a-a-b,c-c-c-d,e-e-e-f, a-b-c-d-e-f-

plea

Anywhere but here
please god just give me gears
I want to find a hole and die
and wipe the windshield of all these years
Just give me anyplace to land
I swear I'd make it grand
I won't tarnish heaven
Or play  debonair
I just can't hack the here
I hear the people calling
It feels like life is drawling
and suddenly there is nothing but falling
the cliff is such a dear

This life seems all but over
Please God just let me
go here

I can't bear the another reflected morning
in my tears.

Missing

If missing you were a contagion
It would spread like wildfire
It would eat flesh off  bones
and lay waste to humans, animals and crops
It would ride upon satellite to distant  universes
and flail against all things
beautiful
intelligent and
creative
It would find life and demolish it
The planets would weep for their loss

If missing you were an epidemic
It would watch from
the insanitorium
eyes dimmed with gloom and
puffed with tears
cues that it is trapped
but never gone.
It would cry out in solitude
as it found itself the last known survivor
to infect
Knowing that all life had been taken
with rapid misfortune

And if missing you were my plight
I think I would give in
and let it lock me tight
in it's death

When he called

It's a funny thing,
the way people talk
about letting go

Like plunging headfirst into a waterfall
The impact leaves you shocked,
breathless
But as the cold sets in
it feels you
were born there

It's funny to me, or peculiar,
rather, That people believe it ends
upon impact

It's the beginning!

When I jumped headlong
into corrosive, murky depths
I had been residing in a sewer
Any waterfall
looked like a pouring of great fortune.

I imbibed poison like NyQuil
It lulled the faint cry of lunacy
to sleep for a time.
I injected you into my veins

I surrendered to toxicity
even as waterways parted
and murky depths gave way
to beautific sunlit pools.

I fought so that I might suffocate in you.
As you fought to suffocate in anything.

Masquerading as buoys.
Funny, or peculiar, rather,
How cinder blocks can look just like rafts
when your mind,
constitution and nature become noxious.

(Written the night Nate called me while in L.A. Updated Nov. 30)

Free flow-seems to have word theme

Just so you know
in case you come to call
you can't have
just this or that
it's all or nothing a'all

Just so we're clear
you can't tell me to leave
if you truly want me near
To clarify, that's confusing
and your words numb my skull

So just so you know
I kissed you to sleep last night
and wondered when all that ice would strike you dead
the next time I open my mouth?
or my heart
or my... well just when will this thing freeze over?

I want you to hear me
I wish it was words that I speak with
I want you to know me
So I'll place my face against yours
in the pale light
hoping the inferno catches fire in your mind
as it has all but demolished my own



I am sewing us a small sachet
Sachet across the room to you
I'll press it against your heart
The brand will live there til a fail deed...
Instead
I've sewn my lips shut
after making the holes I watched the black thread sealed it.
Sighed with relief at all the words I shoulda, coulda
...can't...
say
I place the glue to my lips and feel it bind me
No more words...........
No more eating.............
or talking.........
meaningless explanations.
I lay down
hope it's all bonded by morning
Eventually they'll call, as they always do
I will go as I always will

but this time it'll take days to get me apart

days to 'talk' it through
When will they see I sew my flesh together to avoid this ritual
When will they see that I have nothing more to say
Not even goodbye

Crossroads
I find myself in an odd position
Looking around I am finding all these "X's"
on the treausure map
I have been seeking some sort of treasure but
I don't thtink I yet know
what that treasure is or means.
Like a list I have been x-ing out parts and parcels of self
and things I really wanted for myself
I have.
I wanted to love what I do
I wanted to be the Best in what I choose
not in comparison to anyone else-but to be the best me
I wanted to learn and to know
I wanted to find myself and take the hard ganders in teh mirror
I will, and I have.
It's one of those lifelong journeys I am confident I can navigate
I wanted a dog that I could love with the love I had for Soxy...
I have that.
I wanted a program that taught humanity and differences
I found that aas well
Finally, I wanted a job that I can do
that isn't treading water.
I am no Mesovelia mulsanti
I cannot stand to eb still
I also cannot stand to run in circles or waste time
I wanted to learn about my intuition
my clairvoyance
and, dammit, I have.
Seems like it may be time for new goals.
I have reached all the ones I really wanted for myself
The ones that absolutely had to happen for me.
I am not a counselor yet-but it will come.
The marriage thing-having a family
I think it will come as it should and it isn't a goal I can have
Only a hope for it.
I can't make it happen
Now what :P

Final goodbyes

Sometimes we need to hear healing words from someone. I needed to hear that I am not broken. That my preoccupied attachment; that did not result from my choices, does not make me unlovable. It does not make me unreleasable. I found myself rifling through all the old emails Nathan sent me. The terrible and the awesome. All the cute things I could find. Myspace was like this mass communication we had-and sometimes it was all we had. The way he spoke to me made me feel like a whipped dog. I hid under any emotional furniture I could find-but mostly, mostly I just loved him til I thought my heart would beat out of my chest to find him, to help him. I let the horrid things he said go unchecked. I took all the abuse because I was needy, I was broken, and no one could ever want someone so damn wounded. I was wounded-but not wounded in a crippled, dilapidated, malfunctioning sort of way. No, I was wounded like the puppy who trips over her own feet trying to chase a butterfly.
I was wounded like the child who misjudges her weight on the tallest tree in the yard and falls flat with no one there to mend her.
So yes, I am wounded. I can see that it isn't always such a terrible thing to have wounds. Nathan was wounded too. I don't really know what made him lash out, what made him choose not to marry me before I got to the point  I did and left. But as my friends pointed out-something inside pleaded I walk away. In a moment of weakness (or strength) I walked-and boy did  I give myself hell for that.

The point here is that I haven't let it go. I was keeping records of all those feelings because I wanted to be able, always able, to go back and recall the feeling for him. With him I burst with enthusiasm and triumph-equally, I sunk to the lowest places of my entire existence. I always wanted to chronicle that so I could go back and feel again. Like I left all the real feelings when I left him. I think, in my mind, I was walking away from the only real thing I had ever or would ever feel-when I left him. I also went back many times. I felt like I was broken because he confirmed I was unloving-that I would sabotage everything I ever loved. I had done it when I was 14 and he said it was miraculous I ever got out of that pattern with him-but he always had faith I would go back to that.
I am not 14 anymore-and I won't go back. So if I actually want to stop sabotaging my relationships I need to let him go. All the memories, all the happiness and all the pain. I need to let it be the past and stop breathing life even into his memory because he is dead. The 14 year old I loved-is dead.
I watched him die.

I can attach to someone else, even if I could not attach to my mom or dad. I can rely on someone else, even if they were unreliable. I do not have to keep being afraid someone is dead just because they are out of sight. Maybe if I chant that mantra enough I can make it real to me.

And so i take the time here to write as I feel-
Nathan Douglas McCreless,
I know that I was cruel in my youth, but it was the best I could do at the time. I also know you were cruel and it was the best you could do. I love your smile and your writing and all the silly moments we shared in the wake of storms in our lives. I thank God you were there to help me through it. Thank you for that support and thank you for being my ally and allowing me to be yours. You hurt me so badly with the things you said to me and the way you treated me. I need to release that now. I forgive you for the way you treated me. I cannot accept you into my life again-or even those words as memories because they are toxic. I know you tried to be happy as best you could with what you have. With all that being said

Goodbye


-even if it is silent.
(I deleted my Myspace and with it all the communications. I didn't even read through them all. I hope I remember this, my strength in letting this go. It is time to stop holding it all in a vault and just release it. ) Thanks for reading
-Jem

Lost

I hate you
I won't hide it with pretty words
and nicely written prose
You don't deserve anything but the raw end

Happily ever after came in a funny way
It should have dripped through your pores
Like some still born illness
I seep out of you like blood
You'll never remove it from you
No matter how hard you fight against it

You went against the natural order
I Hate you!

In you is everything I have always hated
In you is everything I hate in me
The lies
cowardice
Inability to function
due to a false sense of idealism
It's all bullshit
We were all bullshit

But you gave it up
When I was fighting
I'm always fighting

You are letting it fuck you hard
You are giving in to mediocrity

I don't want anything for you
Maybe I do
Maybe I want to watch you burn
and gouge out your eyes
when your breath is leaving you
at the sight of the foul thing you've created and nourished to twisted precision
Much as you were nourished when you should have been left somewhere
For birds to peck at helplessly.

I hope by writing it I purge it from me
I hope I can expel this unguent catastrophe in time.
But as we both know
Hope is nothing but frail indecision about which path
to death
we'll take,

God help me if ours cross again.

(I am not proud of this. It isn't pretty and it's a part of me that makes me nauseous sometimes. It killed me to have everything I loved ripped from me. This is the not-so-healthy approach to dealing with it that I fall into sometimes. )

Crazy girl

To be free
To say all the gallant
Loving
Inspiring words
That I cannot slip forth

It would be a miracle to place my arms
Where they long to be
The miracle may not ever occur
I am not used to resting, you see

This game can't be played close to the chest
I can't see all the cards
I'm not dealing
I'm accepting the crazy girl
Inside

Who won't speak
But this time\
it is not fear that ensnares her tongue
Holding fast as it did when other words
would not flow forth

It is Wisdoms kind hand
that find's Hers within my own.
Whispering sweet encouragements
to cull this crazy girl's anxiety


I wait to let the the game play itself out
Is is so insane to let go the score?
 I won't see the end so readily if
I choose not to construct the whole presence.

So it is
I would love to place my hand in yours
See how the lines and wrinkles align
The words escape me for now
and my heart naps
Like a lion in mid-day

But come the night

How I will hunt
Ceaselessly.

Response "Black Like Me"

I'm disgusted by what I am reading, despite the fact that it was written in the 50's when segregation was still the norm. I can't believe the bullshit that was shoveled down my throat about how different blacks are from whites. I never believed it, cuz I saw that we all talked the same-that the rules were the same.

We were all at the bottom and I feel completely that showing each other kindness keeps you from screaming. That gluttony, sex  and sin keep you from going insane. In many ways I think my dad was just looking for someone beneath him so that he felt a little higher on the damn totem pole.
It is operative to mention that I am reading Black Like Me-a novel written by a white man who chose to turn himself black to experience life as a 'Negro man'.
The obscenity of the unabashed hatred made me want to v omit. Some of that hatred for anything to take away the hatred for ourselves made me crazy
I wish I could align all my thoughts and write this eloquently but for now I will simply say the things that struck me most.

One quote where he says that every black man is trying to live by the white man's rules and that those that are accepted by white men turn on one another. It makes the mind crazed.
How much I identify with the culture, way of speaking and feelings of Griffith as a black man. But then I am pulled towards not being allowed to feel that way because my skin is white and I cannot understand-even if I do feel like a lot of the feelings are part of my identity-they have been very silent parts. I keep them hidden.
How the black shoe shiners would not help the beggar and took pleasure in being above anything. Much like the powerless abused child that in turn abuses the dog. I feel thankful I never took to abusing things. I never wanted any power. I just wanted out. I wanted to have not been born, but that is a story for another time.
The kindness and kinship in times of hardship-the shower scene. Where one man lets another use his shower water cuz the faucet is broken. Such human beauty in the midst of terror.

How at the bbq place they laugh to keep from crying and are raucous cuz the only other option is to be destitute
i noticed how Griffith says that the black people stay sane by remembering that they can live with dignity and not to take ti personally. God what it must be not to have to take hatred personally. "They only hate my color".

This book is blowing me away. It may not be this way now-but hell who knows. I feel like there isn't anyone who would tell em the honest truth about how it is. Maybe I need to do a little more genuine asking.

More to come as I read. 

yeah...

Touch me like I'm a disaster

Like the slower you run

The world will burn faster

Hell, I'm burning now

You press your hand against my back

and arches run right through me

In love with a specter

You walked into me

Kiss me like rafters

leave me breathless in the rain

with nothing to catch me

I'll stand unshieldedly sane

If you tell me it's real

Hands move through your hair

like Blue Jays in spring

Agitatedly guarding  

The disaster ground brings

You race through me

Like gale force winds

Knock over my power lines

Let the electricity burn me alive

I live for each spark

I watch the lifelessness pass away

In the tempest of your embrace

And as I snap open my eyes

I blink away forlorn images of you

Running towards the morning sun.

Undone

Slap seven two seven
Divorcing denial resurfaces
Paving the interchange with
a viral fatigue

Slap
                  Seven
Two
                                           seven

Afterall,
The alternative is bitter
black, laboratories
Preparing medals and excuses
in cartons
Shoveled property of....
SLAP.


727
::I wrote this during class. We were doing case studies so I took words from each one and made a poem completely from the words I found in the case studies. Yeay, class boredom::

on race

I'd like to say I'm angry, cuz it's easier that way
Punch you in your face
Like the sucker punch that were your words
on already vulnerable ears
Ears the color of wagons I was wheeled around in
as a small child
But only if I see the sun
Otherwise they're just ivory utensils...
"Ivory utensils that observe as they wish", you say

I know how it must look to you

But it isn't
When you take away my wagon color
when you write me down in your history books
as nothing but void of hue...

grayness

By definition you take away my right to culture
My right to the red man's lament, maybe?
 I feel every day
It's unspoken and unseen...

Much like the impoverished blacks, and Rednecks lament was unseen.

There were white slaves when this country was founded
The condition you refer to-slavery-
look up where it came from
Slavs- Whites of East European Origin.

We're all in this tormenting society of humans together.

My tears are for all the injustices
I cry for being an outsider!
who wants badly to be let in,
who wants badly to stop being incriminated,
by a face that depicts a story in contrast to my experience!
I cry for the fact that any person feel uncomfortable in their skin,
as I do.
I am not devoid of hue
my background is not grey.
But on most days I'm white girl,
gone grey.
I am colored with all the bloodstains on the Trail of Tears
 I am marked by memories of platanos y arroz con pollo
hardships of a racial
identity
I can hide from.
Assert.
or give up....
Yes, I have thought about what it is to be white

Passing does not mean you excel.
and the proof is in the grades!
You see your peers hand out A's to those who
sit quietly,
speak respectfully,
work diligently,
promote capitalism,
watch injustice done,
and cry about the differences they don't see.

I do not receive those passing grades

I can walk by and you may hear, resoundingly,
"white girl"
through that uninhibited place in your subconscious.
but when I speak -
the whites,
they hear "something is amiss....
Something deeply wrong and alien"
Their blue/green/hazel (who cares what color) eyes
switch back and forth ominously
Somehow I didn't play the role right, and gave it all away.

I am not of their shade.

I find myself locked to a color
which I can't live in
cannot escape
cannot refute to those I could find myself aligned with
and, ultimately, cannot change.


I may 'pass', as you say
but I fail at race,
either way.

Gone

I said she’s leaving on a fast train

But not quite sure where to go

She left her baby sleeping

In the bedroom all alone

She wanted to explain it

But he’d already know

That she’d be leaving

Going

Going

Gone

He told her that he loved her

And even got a ring

They lived their life in shambles but had just about everything

One could need

Now she’s leavin on a fast train

Going

Not even  God knows where

She left Him in the trailor park

All alone right there

The rearview gives her heart an ache

She knows she's doing wrong

Doesn’t stop her going

Shes going

Going

gone

Love poems

I know that I could find hope

in your hand

Locked with mine.

If ever I should know turmoil

I may also know you to be there,

as my Steadfast Guard.

And as ever I have known Love,

I have but to peer into your solid depths

to find it swaddled there.

Tempest bears no ill will for us

And life holds naught but hope

In Flames

My attempt at art :)

Soft Side Sanctum

There is no cure for love
but to love more.

I found solace in hatred.
I wallowed in the pit of formidable wrath
for so long...
that looking hopeful was natural
but believing in hope,
was only between the pages,
of hardworn hardcovers.
I covered my heart with those pages,
writing each line into my memory,
making, normal, fantasy.
I needed to live in the divine.

Today,
I don't feel so  divine.
The pages have discolored and the appeal
isn't so great as it was when my heart was smaller
when my mind needed the sheer protection.
Today,
I feel like facing my cruelty.
my hatred,
my locked solid fortification,
that takes no responsibility for cause and effect.
And tomorrow,
I will listen at least as much as I confront,
because I remember when I was not heard.
I can hear the pained etchings when I shut people out
and the pain is mine to bear now, too.
I have to let that in to be real.

The novel pages aren't substantial enough anymore.

Tomorrow, and thereafter
I must experience the world with others
and accept that I am unique enough.
That it does not make me valid.
That I may be valid
simply  by my ability to
love and be loved.
Because, after all, that is the only real thing
that can be lived for

Old

Why are you so afraid of going to sleep
The dull drawl lulls her as the voice chatters on
"why....why...Why?!?"
Could it possibly be you're afraid of that five minutes you'll have to stop...be still. Hear what I have to say for five seconds.  
Switches the computer screen, the image has remained there for too long and she becomes bored. Or rather, she becomes anxious. Boredom is foreign.
HEY...so remember that time this song came on and you were walking down the road with Re and she just started dancing. You were so enamored, you wanted to dance right along with her but instead you looked away and laughed. You loved her so much in that moment. Go ahead and smile...that's peace. For however long you can hold onto it. And then...ohohoh -remember that time we passed this road and you were screaming at him in your head. All locked up tight and shouting through the silence. I was shouting...YOU were silent. But I guess he figured it out after a while...all the shouting finally came out. Maybe that could have been avoided.
The screen moves again and for an hour the silence is prevalent only to be shattered as the last words fly off the screen.
4:55.
It will be rise and fucking shine tomorrow morning you know that right. You're gonna wanna kill Herra-the whole bunch of them. And that brings me to my next point death. How about it-maybe in the car ride someone will hit you and THEN. Well, then it'll be sleep for us both. We both know how you love sleep. But those last five minutes...those minutes when I have the say-well I guess those are the ones that ...anyway onto death. Remember those towels and singing in front of that family. Remember, well you remember it all alright. That's all you can do. You can't even do that right though. Half of it is lies isn't it. Oh honesty is convenient but...you don't know the truth anymore. Maybe the truth is you don't remember at all. Any of it. Not faces or names or-anything.                  
That must have been before me. But you've been writing this story like I have been here all along-like this was always who you are. Me-the voice you avoid at night. Who you're trying to be. You're a god damn lunatic, you are. Oh and that brought up some interesting little truths did it not, for you, my dear.
Lunatic...Her....those dreams....the running. The torturing....that's all me. Never you. You're all tears and heartache and other people's stories..splintered into shards of your own reality. I am sure you like the abstract, much easier hm?
Well let us make it harder.
I am you.
I was not you then.
Your own creation has outgrown it's maker and I have become the guiding light. You try and shut me off with others' words and with the tales others tell of you. Because my tale just doesn't fit anymore....but it's you who gave me the fodder. So I must know-may we sleep yet.

Or will I wake tomorrow to pit myself against the world again to be heard?"

Symbols

Darkened dreary belabored breaths
shallow shudders laid to rest
I find my beating heart between
the niches found as we lay to rest

Blithe storm raging infernal grows
knowing lets itself be Known
Can't speak it
if it's not owned
Internal staging stoney shows

Distant fading sepulcher square
standing naked left to bare
cross or armor?
story told

Gold enigma insignia bound
lying bloodless
her face down
between his heartbeats
as we lay in rest
the shallowing shudder
of belabored breadth
Within a coffin buried deep
Beneath her self

Death's toll

“Daddy can we cross now?” The little boy is holding his fathers hand tightly as he crosses the street. The beads in my hand piercing skin as I grip them. Ethan. He loved the color of the beads so much he named it redfleck and the name just stuck. The redfleck necklace strained in my hands.

Left, right, left right. I know it can't come from both but the street is empty. The clock is ticking away and this bus is late. No such luck. The streets look menacing. Limits that guard me from my sons face, boundaries I can't cross. Every passerby was a culprit. Shadily holding a briefcase of smugly examining those around them. They were limits too. Carrie has called and called, but I can't answer an watch the road at the same time. The peal of my watch is the only thing I can hear. Ominous, predictable and uncontrollable. I pulled the nob away so it ceased it's toll, and settling upon the face a cornflower blue. Cornflower, just the color I wanted to see.... Only..... reflected in his eyes. God help me! Where is this bus?

I heard the clanking rumble of the bus before I saw it and stood quickly. The doors jolted open “Sir, SIR-the fare?”. Fare, right, I give it to him and notice that his stare never even passed over my face. As I sit down the kid across from me blares some noise and draws stars on his combat boots. He surely looks ready for combat. I'm so disgusted at the obliviousness of all these people. The blind, tormenting oblivion. I want to point a gun to the bus driver's head and tell him to speed this bus up, but also, to slow himself down. I want them to wake up.

Instead, I find myself sulking with redfleck beads imprinting my hand. Instead I find myself crying for the first time since his birth 16 years ago. As the sliding doors open I feel the chill of icily sterile air enter my lungs. I race to his room passing Carrie along the way. I hear her calling as I open the door.

Beauty and the Beast

Hello Beauty meet beast

He'll offer you a platter,

but you'd prefer the feast.

Dispel limp hair

Course blood through dead veins

that beauty sure keeps you in pace

but when you break stride

can there come the ugly times

the desperate solitude

or aching pains

the tormenting whims

and the lovestruck craving lunacy

of the laymen

aspiring beyond his skin?

Hello Beauty

 meet beast

she offered you a whole

you only took a piece

You decide

fairy tales aren't always what they seem

because when Beauty met beast it was not a meeting

it was attaining one’s fill of meat.

On flight

Your departure was so final
Like a plane I  had foreseen going down
I watched you walking away
fading into the foreground
In every step I waned
In every step all the bright parts of me faded
Until, deemed dated, I left your face

In every pond I saw and every shiny mirror
I couldn't erase the image ofcold blue eyes staring back at me.
I couldn't erase whispered promises
from lips that were not your own.

The plane crash i had seen
You lay dead before my eyes
All I could do was hold on and tell you
to avoid flight

But you cannot clip the wings of a maven
Set off in flight
after information
you cannot provide.

Fog

The air was thick

Like blood in a wound that had sat too long

Sick with dirt and vain attempts at cleansing

I find myself reminiscing

On things that should be left in the back of my mind

In a lock box

Far from keys

The air got thicker and around my played images

Of bats and switches and words no five year old

Could comprehend

I extend my arm into the images

To wipe them clean

With shiny degrees and well lit foyers

Each time pulling back a bloodier limb from the effort

Each time left with naught but a nub to work with

Paralyzed by my own attempts at sanctity

I have become handicapped at changing

All the wiping has worn what strength I had

And the wound festers on

Images play despite the power outages

My heart has had to bear

And still the air grows thicker every moment

I hear someone say my name.

3 randoms

Beauty beauty

Caught and sold

Across the kitchen counter

Found her in a liquor store

And followed but to flounder

Beauty beauty

Quick to mold

And find the light of wonder

Gave her flowers

That turned to gold

Felt no lightning shudder

I loved her as a poor man loves

With naught but haught

And laughter

She loved me as a woman does

With nothing ever after

Amidst the dazzling lights

Luminescence from sources unknown

Beacon to the unknowing

Showing kinder cadence forthy flowing

Never seen or showing

She found him there within her dour

And laid upon him labels

Much like cloth and pencil there

He fit within her tables

The element she thusly claimed

Is definitely able

Yet copes to well

And wont stop selling

His incapacitating lapel

Chant it darling

Awake alive

Throw your cards upon the table

Squelch you sorrow

Sink and sigh

To pretend that you are able

Sing it sour

Awake alive

And mean it in your chorus

Awake alive

Live til you die

Do it by being honest.

The game

Shards of stories
wrapped in lace
laid before His glory
A life of frightning choice
in haste
Lived with rivets unwinding
I smiled to covered my own face
which fell behind silver lining
and found metallic sliver
waste
Kissed goodby was pining

In hindrance begged and pleaded thus
for love garnered by fools
without eyes for lust
or kindness entertwining
Left the game depositing hope
in the shards of stories
behind hidden face
laden in the lining

Dilemmas

Wrong, right
Black, White
It's all in shades of grey
We scribe with blood
Beliefs laid in mud
To justify what we say

Wrong, right
Black, white
We name what lies beyond.
On pedestals stand
Holding grains of sand
The truth is simply our bond

To right and wrong
Asunder strewn
 We know nothing
of this world.
Stand in judgement
yet move no man
your wrongs, rights
are but YOURS. 

Random.

You were a dream
I woke up in a cold sweat
Dazed from the terror
You were a faucet
I put everything in my power
underneath to cease fire
You were a children's book
filled with glossy white pages
and unwritten fairy tales
on every face

I was a computer
lost to all touch
and without
I wanted the world of the feeling
of fire
or gloss
or tales
but I had none to tell
mine were banished with
the newest wave of technology
ringing out the old machinery.




(Wrote that just now....not polished...don't know what it means. But here.)

Sinking

First it's the physical signs, I don't pay much attention to those...at first. I'll clean a little and stop mid-cleaning. I will call every person on planet earth just o hear their voice. I'll get around people and just sit-because I have nothing to offer save for disillusionment and the occasional snide comment. I will sleep fro days-call off work, school, engagements-just completely sleep. While I am doing all this sleeping I will have terrible dreams. Dreams of being rejected, dreams of trapping and punishing things I love...dreams of being made to do things I do not want to do-but doing them all the same. I won't eat-because every time I sit down the food is bland and tasteless, emotions are bland and tasteless-every experience is. After a few weeks of this I start to notice...I am still functioning-hell I may look the same. But I feel terrible. I obsess over the worst possible things and pull myself deeper-until i find myself crying and unable to function by myself. I call someone only to feel like it was a pointless venture to reach out. It feels like the torment will never end, it feels like this cycle will never end-and I have no awareness or control over it either.
Scary as hell-welcome to my life

Morality and judgement cessation

In the interest of morality.
Deciding whether someone is doing something that is right or wrong is solely up to the viewer. If someone is murdering people this is neither right or wrong by nature. It has been programmed into us all the "natural" correctedness of society-but it is not true (for me-add this to all statements here on out). The murderer must suffer the consequences of society to maintain order, but not because he or she is amoral. Actions against the welfare of society are perceived as wrong if they benefit the person. That is a whole ideology I understand. This, also, is neither right nor wrong. Maybe my neutrality is taking over here, but I must say that all things are for the eyes of the beholder.
Whoa! De-railed from that as follows:

So new plan: I am taking a class concerning addiction. In this class we have to choose something we, as budding counselors, will give up to understand the loss and coping of something we rely upon heavily. I am deciding to give up judging the actions of others. I feel this will remove a lot of my coping with anger and justice as well as enlighten me. In my search for beliefs. I looked up a bible verse... I am no woman of the bible to say the least: but I will say this. The book has many wise sayings, so does Thoreau (as an aside). I was inspired by this:

Matthew 7:1-6 Do not judge, or you too will be judged. [2] For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

Quick Judgment is Distorted

[3] Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?

[4] How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?

[5] You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.

Careful Judgment is Necessary

[6] Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces.

All of this has happened as I was writing. I have found myself to be judgmental to get out my own personal gratifications. I want to overcome that so I can live up to what I believe to be my truth. This being that no judgement is a correct one to make of others, or of self for that matter. Making a judgement simply means that the topic or person is bringing up garbage from personal experience. All these judgements are unnecessary if I can simply grasp this concept I (intellectually) accept, but mentally fail to follow at times. 

There are no universal or absolute truths. I know absolutely only that I do not know. I can believe for myself, and that which I believe is my reality;I must live within it. I will attempt to stop judging. When I feel the need, I will attempt to cope by using introspection and reflection plus conversation and socialization. The judgement needs to cease. I say that I will attempt because I am loving myself enough to allow for error-alleviating the judgement that I must be perfect in my execution to prove to myself and the world that I actually care.

In all honesty I am completely overwhelmed by all the thoughts and instances in which I will have to remove my judgements. I want to see it as an opportunity to be shown things that trigger my personal hang ups-but I am also gripped with fear that I will make a mistake and lose all my progress with trying to be less judgmental. But hey, if I fail to judge myself just once-or anyone else, that is great progress, right?

I will try and keep all this in mind. Never thought my blog would become a behavior contract lol. Anyways, I just thought-I could blog about my progress-lemme know if that is interesting at all. 

And to get back to what I was saying in the first place. We all have our morality, we make choices according to that morality. No one is right or wrong-it's all just different perspectives. I want to model that and feel free enough to live out my morals without the restraints of society, or guilty conscience. God willing.

-Jem

Thoughts

Alright, So I have been thinking, like usual. I have been thinking about what it takes to be in a relationship. Listening to "No one's gonna love you" by Cee-lo. Don't we all feel like that. No one will ever be capable of the love I have for someone else. To me, that translates as no one is gonna work as hard as I will. Maybe that is an unfair measurement of love. But when I think of love I think of devotion and loyalty that exceeds the necessary. That could be because ti proves my worth to the other person and myself. I also really love to see the person I am with happy. I want life to be easier because I am there. I work so damn hard at everything I put my mind to-I have too many jobs. It is amazing to me that love could be anything else. Either way, I digress. I am in love with showing someone I care-I was so damn stricken by fear my whole life to show love to people. So here are some keywords I am thinking of here-my thoughts are moving at quite the clip and keywords is all I can do to keep up:
Synchronicity
Fate
hard work
true love
catastrophising
living
memories
grief
colloquy
rhythm
universality.
Ugh this is how I think...thus why blogs kill me. There is a bit of the Jem
-me

Attempted

I use my Emotions like a condiment

A condom it

 holds down

 the devotion Hits

And I'm struck un-emboldened when

I give up all

 I'm holding in.

Holding

sway against the wind

I lay down ground rules

And sink in

Depth of quicksand closing in

Around the rules I stood within

The walls close and melt and drift

The emotions sprayed

On walls facade

Like ketchup in a crystal galla

Splayed across milky model everglade

Poet's lament

Saturday, January 08, 2011

3:05 AM

I want to make the rules and write

The rights

Be the one whose calls keep you up at night

And slam down the phone and walk

Away

But try as I might

Or as I may I cannot recover the might to display

The shrewd light that you take

Each time your footsteps

Angrily disappear

And the weight of each step

Leaves tracks in soil and venae as well

I wish I could swell and rise

Above the twisted figure I become when

I am stomped out

a giant whose spirit

Simply extinguishes my own doubts

I would walk tall and spring forward

Ferociously sitting on my front door

And not yours

I would be no mans beggar and no self's fool

In this body I would live by no man's rights or rules

I would slam down the paper weight on all

Your dreams and leave

Them dusty to be discarded and screams

Would be heard only in soundproof rooms

Where you alone could hear them echoing in false songs

Written in false pretense

Yet there is no surface that can paint this you

On me

Because I am the weak and the poem is my piece

Hatred; a disease of inaction

Hatred; a disease of inaction

No matter how much you

push me

or shove me

I will not break

because inside this body

I stand, irate

Erect and alive

I live with no tide

move for

no mountain

touch

sight or sigh

I do not hear my name

life running through veins

don’t worry or wilt

kiss only to kill

and when I look

outside these bars

I see no thrill

and

the pain of the vain

is hard to bare

with no witness to tell of my story

I have killed and slain each who spoke my name

and here sit with no measure of glory

bars go both ways

when one remains rigid

he allows no room to change

with age his heart rusts

and his bars become chains

no exit, no entrance

a death lived in restraint.

Clarity

I want to see clearly

That I may draw blanks

Think freely

That I may live revealing

And unsafe

I want to lave harshly

And hate kindly

I want indifference to

Slink away

From my door

Astounded,

Blinded

And binded

I want my passion

Unbridled

Unsigned

And without labels

I want to see clearly

So that I may draw blanks

Lust heartily

In hearth upon banks

Of crescent moons

And dreams of lovers swoon

The life I want

Is the woman I will be

And the mirror

Wont ever reflect a need to become

It is simply be

Palm reading

Rearrange your words to fit her ears

you await her embrace to sway you

you cling too tightly

forgo the world too mightily

and yet your lines betray you

Misdeeds surround your sight

you await her lime light

Too tall to stand

you stoop

upon her doorstep and

make amends with inner demons

demoting you to foe

demoting you

and you're owned

Your chivalry lies in feinting

wipe her face clean of frown lines

erase her dissonance with shy smiles

live in a world shackled to denial

so you

Rearrange your eyes to appeal to her

Sink and scramble as she reads your hand

“The life line is short”

“The heart line is broken”

The contortions of your hand

leave much unspoken!”

her waltz into the distance

finds you seated

scalpel in hand

lengthening your lines to meet her fate

lengthening your tolerance to her sate

wait at the machine give it all

and receive nothing in return

Weddings and other happiness

Wedding day

With no one there to give the girl away

Watch the aisles and waste away

His side full

And her side

…

..

.

Blank

She stands so tall her frame so frank

And he loves her courtly wayward gait

His face aflood with sensing fate

He waits

Inside she buries jars and crates

Among the folding crispy crepe

In the room she’d lain awake

 Each name given her forsake

The aisles are tundra’s shorn in lace

Wedding day

The dress smolders over youthful skin

A color colder could not make her dim

Yet in her heart she hides a whim

The girl looks on and finds no balm

Outside has reached a smiling calm

Inside buries jars and crates

Among the folding crispy crepe

 falsity awaits

Wedding day

Questioning

Is waking living

Is living alive

Is my face that of generations

Living in stride

You call it surviving

I call it swimming against the tide

What is living

Devoid of deaths collide

I must ask without giving

My words remain mute

As I may have the answers,

But they’re simply astute

They know not the living

Or the world of the wise

They simply peek from

Misgivings thrust into the tide.