May 2013
21 posts
1 tag
Stop to wonder what we have consumed through. Then ponder what little we have lost by giving.
Most anyone can form an eye, an ear, and a smile from a pen with no need to erase anything but, my hand can draw the back of hers in deep colors slowly, pressing against each fiber.
4 tags
TW:White Whine
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Racism is defined by action. If you do not treat anyone unfairly, you cannot treat anyone unfairly based on their race. If you do not say anything unfairly, you cannot say something unfair based on how they were born. I’m tired of people who follow the, “if you’re white you’re racist” rule. It’s as if people assume that the mere act of...
1 tag
eatsleepmoresleep:
No Where Now her Now here Now ere No w e Now here w e w ere
Where you bury the heart, it will soak up the dirt, and crust over in drought like the grass,Where you bury your love, hope that someone will water you when you are dry. Bury your heart deep, and deeper still than the human eye can tell, and trust that it will rain.
“There are giants in the sky. There are big tall terrible giants in the sky. When...”
– Stephen Sondheim - There are Giants in the Sky, from Into the Woods.
To be an artist
You must first appreciate
What you destroy.
1 tag
There was a girl who was very much loved. Maybe she thought she wanted love and perhaps she had said that was what she had always wanted. It was a kind of hunger. Hunger? Love isn’t hunger. Love is starving. You can’t feed it. It’s a patient need and she’s not patient. She envies. She boils and begs and the only emotion that she receives seems to be and pity.
Bet...
2 tags
An Art
There is a place him to process his plow the land above water the soil the mind his own business is the plant in him a seed the idea.
A Farmer, imagine the idea of love the home is a verse his sorrow drowns a canvas the deep blue sky leaves rain leaves hope sprouts color sinks underneath.
Yet, the sun will suspire under singing, beating, bringing, weather the ground into growing.[[MORE]]There...
1 tag
The question
He gave her a “question ’everything” is an “answer’ me ‘this” I know.’
[[MORE]]
He gave her a question.
“Question everything”
“Everything is an answer”
“Answer me this.”
“This, I know.”
1 tag
A quaint story of death and sorrow
I don’t like falling in Love can be a See through It will take you deeperStill as the Mourning my dear Son-shine beams.
And through it will melt my sorrow away from the weather you love me or not.
[[MORE]]I don’t like falling in love. Love can be a sea. See through it. It will take you deeper still. Still as the morning. Mourning my dear son, sunshine beams. And through it. It will...
Think about what makes a character worth writing for. It may very well be the same things real people have. Real people are imperfect. Real people don’t fit. They places to go, faves to put up, and feelings to deal with. They have friends, family, mothers and sisters and the things that happen to them happen to us. The thing that makes a character worth writing for isn’t makeup for our...
The trouble with feeling down and out is that often times we use hobbies that don’t particularly contribute towards the upward climb back to functional sanity. Doing nothing for a minute helps. A day? Makes it worse. Imagine feeling so down and out that you take a day off, and then imagine feeling emotionally useless by the next day because you did nothing the day before. The really horrible...
1 tag
Do not write to write something. It is better
to have spoken simply to speak, or say
to merely have said. Do not write for words.
It is better to speak as they’d reverberate.
Across each wall they echo overtones
even more muffled beyond recognition.
Before they come back. This is better.
It is better to have forgotten what we’ve said.
But the letters you wrote hurt the most,...
1 tag
1 tag
“The short answer to that question is a kiss.”
“I don’t want you to kiss me.”
“Maybe you should be asking someone else. Maybe, if the shortest answer is a kiss, maybe, you should be asking someone who you could imagine kissing.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I asked you if you wanted a sandwich.”
“Do you realize what...
100 answers without the questions
Along time ago Three weeks ago Meet us in the library Something or other I can’t remember. No, Never, a little, maybe Always. Not at all. Not one. Can’t remember when It’s been a while. Only until they left
[[MORE]] Basically never. Nothing then either. Two hours too late. Later. Perhaps at someones wedding Give me a lifetime to decide. Nothing. Everything. This one. Gray. None....
He never liked family vacations much
and had always wanted to travel.
Paper should be black and pens should
bleed white. It would be more literal
to believe that words shed light. But
that isn’t it. Someone wise was literal
and said no
paper should be white.
Let’s give metaphors a rest. Instead
of using words to describe words
let words describe themselves
just as it is.
So that finally when you speak
When you love me you love me. When you
smile you’re smiling.
and I know you’re thinking of me.
April 2013
18 posts
Writing about writing is basically the same thing as telling yourself that you’re going to get up five more minutes from now. What you read is the statement “five more minutes. I’m tired. Let me close my eyes, and this is why.”
1 tag
I don’t know why I write. All there is
to find is how I feel, and who
I can pen myself into, as blind as anyone
real could be, just as my own.
Somehow everything we bleed fills in, and that’s not what we always want. It’s not supposed to grow back. My sorrow sprouts wings. It’s a sadistic kind of hope. It’s beautiful nonetheless, but I’d like my story not to be of my sorrow. Let me pin that hope onto something else, specifically someone else and further into the future than the life our lives live. Let me go...
If you ever find yourself writing about the same feelings over and into a constant repeat of the same words a different way, it isn’t time to move one. It’s time to write them once more and give them to someone who very literally does not exist. Create them until they do. Carry on. That is all.
Lines and spacing don’t
Make poems. So this isn’t.
Rhymes and meter don’t
make poetry. I’m not either,
a poet. Yet as built over
by lines and spacing am I. We are
beginning to see something.
1 tag
No Where Now her Now here Now ere No w e Now here w e w ere
It will do you no good
to walk in another’s shoes
when there’s go nowhere
Not then, not now, tomorrow will.
She was, has been, to be
not so, always infinite in moments.
Hold her holding folds of paper
of all the times you’ve kissed.
Do not think of love
as matter that you can so easily
break into pieces. Do not
think of finding it in its smallest
purest state. And even then do not attempt
to split such as this into seperate
places. You will have nothing. It will
destroy a magnificant city. The very act
adulturates the body, making passion
impossible.
You will always have something to say, to write, and to sing. Something will always be on your tongue as subjective as it can be; it’s what you feel. So on those deep, dark, moments when you feel you have absolutely nothing to say, say what you’ve already said and say it again. Perhaps it will help you to move on. Maybe you don’t need to. Don’t standarize your ideas, even...
Good kisses can’t really be made by people who practice. Heck good kisses aren’t really even made by good kissers. Sure, it either puts me before or ahead of my time, but the thing that makes a good kiss is when it signifies the intimacy between two people.
Someone becomes beautiful because seeing them signifies intimacy. It’s the same thing. They grow on you, even as everything...
She loved people for strange things.
Things, people couldn’t love her
in return for. So in many ways
the ways which we loved were
the very reasons we could not seem so,
desired by anyone. She loved
them for their eyes, when hers weren’t
blue. Stop to think that, maybe one
little detail won’t so much as add weight
yet, simply create acceptance when
there isn’t any....
Marriage is a house with doors.
With locks, windows and floorboards.
It had a blueprint. It has a deed. You
own it and so does he. And the last thing
pulled out of the moving truck was the bed
with sheets, blankets, pillows and all things cleaned.
Before that, it had a mattress that sat in the back
of a pickup truck. All of it under the stars. All of it
covered by nothing more than a...
Childhood is a funny thing. When we leave it up to someone else something is still going to happen. As far as anyone is concerned at that stage, toast toasts itself.
“You’ll shoot your eye out.” is what they’re always saying. If they left it to us, we’d have nothing to see with and it wouldn’t be our fault.
So when Randy shot Jeol, it wasn’t really...
Dear people who complain about the prices at my job:
Yes, 2.39 $ after tax might be a little much for a large cup of coffee, but they pay for my support by the hour, and that doesn’t leave much for me to say when you’re here to complain.
Dear coworker who complains:
You probably don’t have herpies in your eye or shingles on your face.
Babysitting middle age women...
Have you ever fallen so deeply into another
that whatever it was they were doing, or saying,
became more prevelant than how you felt about yourself? If they were happy, so were you. If they were angry,
depressed, lonely, and even dying
you would feel so too.
And this is how
every story I’ve read
has prepared me for you.
Let tomorrow take
place.
It whispers, softy singing
a song for the sands of time.
1 tag
A tale of two lovers ravel as bone marrow
held deeply between two hard places.
She will not yet surface without
breaking the space between the spine,
a rib and now ruining the skin as a crushed
lung, fails sending air to a heart. Now,
no longer wonder how two lovers die
together from a separate tomb.
March 2013
11 posts
Try to
say this softly, so subtle they feel
themselves more reading
the mere breath of it.
Try to say it only
and one time through.
Say beauty isn’t
how you look. Oh, how he will see,
how he looks at
and deeper into.
Now (Hardly) Somehow
a tongue is bleeding. A small
yet faithful verse kindly begged
someone to do what every blanket covers
and wishes so for each their own. That...
2 tags
An overly detailed summary on why he didn't call...
There’s no time for him. A third of it is sleep. Fifteen hours a week makes work, another twenty-four hours adds up every class, and add in homework, then the commute. He’s in overtime. So when a girl come in and gives him a ten dollar tip, for a four dollar drink, he starts talking to be polite. It’s difficult for him to live up to a ten dollar tip. He gets a better idea of...
4 tags
Sex Life
In a small diner, a small town, and leading into a very large booth we found ourselves doing what college students do: ordering food. It was crowded too, leaving everyone with little room. It was a joke. She didn’t mean it like that. I only rushed in and jumped the gun. It might’ve meant nothing among all the conversations, all of them, flying here to France and back, over onto the...
You said, “Everything
is in your head.” and then
I said, “Everything must be
dead.” As from a passive
vibrant existence to the smokes
and mirrors of my mind when you
say everything. You say the only
true moment sits in awe
the way we forgot to imagine it
and you astound me.
I’m on vacation until school is over. I will see you then.
No one knows me
as I don’t my
self. No one understands
it in its self. But,
don’t mistake that for love
or the lack thereof.
He’s a Jack
of all trades truth is
he just wanted to be good everything.
It piled in his life as newspaper. All of it
filling his heart, not knowing a simple beauty.
This excludes those of you who fail at human standard. You are still, and alogether, more or less, strange at heart.
2 tags
When I stopped having Crushes
1) There was no longer any time for it. These things take up mental space. When college came around (25 hrs a week classtime) and when I decided to keep my partime job (15 hrs), and then adding in the commute between home and school over the weekends (2-3 hrs), it was already putting me into overtime with homework flying out my ears.
2) It came to the point where “a crush” was a fancy...
I’ll tell you why my writing is not well. It does not hold onto the purest of ideas or the most basic of needs. It does not tell a secret that is unwittingly ours. It has no laws, kings, nor queens. It is not the same story as the ones before me. None of my characters are insane. There are no doors that lead to other worlds. My charactors do not change. They wake up the same. Everything is...
