Happy Birthday, Moon Child...

Here's a cheers to you on this day!

Moon child, it's all about you!

You're rare and there's some magic at play,

Get wild and show your sexiness, too.

Those sky blue eyes are magnetic to me,

I'm drawn to what's hidden behind. 

You sigh when I... explore your body,

Go on get ready... to dish, wish, & grind!

When Comes The Time? (12.5.2002)

When comes the time, I ask. When comes the time when things are supposed to happen? When is it when things are going to get better as any friend or support group may offer as advice when no other answer is deemed reasonable when asked simply...


~"Why does my life suck so badly?"
-Possible response: "Oh, things will get better."

When? I ask, when? When will this magical transition take place and will it make a wrong turn at Albuquerque like the ever popular rabbit does on each road trip, er, um, under-road trip? When does that time come? Does that time EVER come? Is it just a "carrot" to place in front of you to keep you going and to make sure you continue to be that human battery described in The Matrix to further provide resources to others?

--(That is what we are. Do you realize it? Think about it...why do you have a job/money? To pay bills and survive, right? In having bills you are giving someone else a job so they can also offer some of those resources away to keep another person/company going. We are batteries. But that is another story.)--

~"Why do I suffer?"
-"Because you can make it through it."

Oh, is that it? Because I can handle it, huh? Because I can handle it I am untimely ripped from my stance, knocked down simply because I can be, kicked in the stomach, dragged along the dusty concrete into the dirt only to be set in the only puddle of mud for miles, hugged, no, not hugged, rather, mugged and drugged so that as I report the incident I have no credibilty. Oh by the way, ...thanks for nothing!

~"Why can't things fall into place like they are supposed to?"
-"I guess it just isn't the right time."

So, here we are again at this time thing. And you know what the most fucked up thing about that is...We created time. It is only an invention set forth so that we can actually track, trace, and record our "history" as we have called it. Okay, so, it's not the 'right' time. when will it be the right time when things actually work as they are supposed to? How about this question...If it is not the right time, then, is it the wrong time? If not, as I suspect, believe rather, that there is no cut and paste right or wrong, then what is it? Normal? I hope that isn't the answer because if it is...YOU CAN TAKE THAT CARROT AND SHOVE IT! BITE ME and I'LL BITE BACK! HARDER!

Free write

Feeling you against me swaying those hips

Makes me slide my hands down to read your lips

I'll explore your story like I'm a blind man

If I was deaf I'd be saying I want to see that again

I've got my eyes on you saying rewind... damn!

Better yet, I want to collide, go inside, & take you for a ride.

So let's take that & choose our own adventure, find the buried treasure, see if this could... last us forever.

1am turning or slumber point?

Is it time for bed or time to get started. Tonight it's time for bed. Read to you soon.

Ego Vs. Love

I recently saw an indy show on HBO in the middle of the night that questioned how these two parts of self interact and the impact it has on us.  What do you think?  How do you think Ego interacts with Love?  Do they play fair?  Unfair?  Equal shares?  Which one is stronger for you?

Passion & Reason

I think we have all experienced passion that is not in any sense reasonable.
Stephen Fry

Haiku Challenge #7

Two words this time: "Sun" & "Droplets"

Embraces slip through--
Where does the daylight glisten?
Find sun kissed droplets.

Another time... (12.5.2002)

Another time is another place. In essence, when that other time arrives or has arrived or maybe even already had arrived, you are in a situation that cannot be duplicated no matter how much deja vu you have. There are different people involved at that moment than there will be in the future or were in the past even if the two people involved at the different "places" bear the same name and wear the same nonchalant face or that far-from-impromptu-way-too-over-practiced smile. So, with that in mind...




When are you?

Watch That Finger! (12.10.2002)

Watch that finger you are pointing! You might poke someone's eye out with that thing. As the saying goes, you may get someone in the eyeball, but watch where you point, too. Stop pointing me! Stop pointing me! I can do it. If you are going to point me make sure it is in the right direction. If you know where my right direction is and point me into it because you are too afraid of doing it yourself, then you need to stop pointing others and find out for yourself! I need to find out for myself. If even I need a direction change, then nudge me, don't push me, don't tell me, don't order, nudge and don't judge because then I won't budge! I will figure it out and if I don't ever figure it out on my own, how will I know how to figure it out in the future. We are not connected. I am my own person. You are You. It is not polite to point and for that matter, order. Use your nudging by influence and example! Don't make me learn, allow me to learn, Don't tell me to do something, explain why to do something. Make it easy to work hard. Determine to be smart no matter your IQ. Don't point me in the right direction and that's an order because I suppose that is how you communicate. By the way, you should learn to touch people with that finger instead of waiving them one way or another!




Fuck you!



Out of breath from going...everywhere.

Conflicted 2003

How dare you?


How dare you?

You weren't dared to do anything! How dare you? How could you? Is that possible? Are you seriously able to do that without it getting to you or eating that very thing that must exist but is not perceptible to any eye except the optic heart. Your soul. Does it exist? Can you see it? It isn't visible to most. So, in introduction, how dare your soul do / allow or opt not to go along? How dare it?! How dare it go along with anything the rest of your body does?! Why doesn't it just stop and drag it's feet against the old, brown and rust-colored cracked concrete? Why doesn't it just stay put in one place as you keep moving and cause a physical (noticeable) reaction (such as any unexpected quick and fast movement that abandons your stomach to hitch-hike at the corner)? Why can't it be like that? How can your soul allow your cells to continue to operate the best they can? Secondarily, those cells respond to anything you tell them to. How can that just work, as if someone is whipping them, without stopping? They just do as they are told not consciously, of course. Nothing that is done wrong is ever done consciously. How can someone with a conscience do wrong? Or using that conscience continue to do wrong? Why can't the cells just shut down and strike as many unions do today to correct problems that they have? Why don't they just say NO?

To be continued...



when I get/utilize a conscience.

Chaos

Chaos...how ironc of a thought, however, I believe it to be true. Chaos in theory is ungathered, scatterbrained, if spontaneous were a formation, it would be that, BUT I say different. I say there is method to the Chaos! I say its repetitious manner may seem far fetched, although, it is, in fact, planned out. Just gaze deep and darkly into history...


How many things have repeated themselves? Why is history taught so much? Why does it matter? It matters because you need to be educated enough to realize that even "chaos" has patterns! Everything has patterns! Even relationships and how you transition. EVERYTHING! You pick an almost 'specific genre' of personae to be your partner at the time.

History isn't all about dates and times or events and names, but more of concept! The chaos the world was born under has birthed that which is far from chaotic, respectively, more of a flip-book. If you flip through it you come to an end. If you flip through it again, only faster, the ending is still the same. The actions are the same, the general population, ALL THE SAME. I admit, there would be changes and era difinitive characteristics, but overall, the pattern is the same. You are taught names and dates and times and events, but you need to look at the big picture and that is not something they want to tell you, they want you to grow and see it on your own! That will make you have tiny eyes that perceive more than you'd imagine!

Chaos...even chaos can be predicted overall. Chaos...expected. Chaos...even chaos isn't chaotic enough to be chaos.

-->>With internal conflict so deep, you lose the way back "home."

Enter At Own Risk (1.18.2003)

My eyes are shut, welded when it comes to my children.
My eyes waive at today, shutter at the past, and shy away from the future.
I don’t want to understand.
I don’t want to be happy.
I carry an umbrella at my side
And right now I’m allowing the ex-gas of rain cloak me from you, the world.
I can open it at any time, but right now I am content with my apparent transparency.
DON’T LOOK, but please peek, I whisper screams of hurt into your eyes.
Worry, but be happy. Continue on without me, smiling on you grave
Crying at the happiness of the children I could have provided
Grow tense at the watchful eye of big brother, of Him, of
Mother nature, of every living organism that surrounds you
At any given time at any given place at your heart.
My heart’s optical frames are covered with the dark sunglass tint of a blind man.
I dare’s not to bask in the warmth of a sun so temporary, so fragile,
Wonderment of an internal crisis crossing the threshold and never, never, never glancing behind it. Behold the entrance to my circus sideshow of me—from the inside.

2.9.2003

Where did they all go? Where did those times that I've shared with so many? Where did they go? Where did I lose them? I found some scraps on my website. I read all of the notes. I have people that care about me. That I care about. They love me. But where did the times go? I can't find them anymore. I feel as though I am nearly a quarter of a person without them. I want them back. I want to change how everything happened. I love you! I cry tears of joy in remorse as I think of the deadened and frozen memories left to starve without proper nourishment and attention. I hope they didn't go off to find it elsewhere...Should I seek them out.




Now, I worry of the future. I am scared! I am selfish and greedy and needy and helpless. I want to hold everytime in my arms so tight I can't move. I want to cramp in that state so that even though it may hurt, it is hard to move back. I don't want to continue to move. I want to freeze with the memory, with those times, with my friends, with those events, with our freeflowing complimentary tears, with our eyes, with our hands not empty because they are offered to one another, with them all, with my times, and with hugs, kiss, my thoughts, my touch, my ears, your voice. I want to hear an echo, maybe a scratched record. Whatever, if it brings me back. If it takes me back. If it allows me feel those times, if I can bring those times back. But where do I get them? Where did they go? Where can I cry to? Where can I lie? Where do I die? I lie to myself everyday in saying it is okay. I die everyday more and more as my sore that I can't stop tonguing grows larger and deeper and I become more obsessed with it and its pain. I accept it nowadays.



IN tears IN fears IN broken gears IN losing peers

2.19.2003

Why do I have to be in such a position. I can not to be, but I can not help but be. Can you lead me out of me into you? I reach for an empty hand. No one is there. No one can match my grasp. Where to go from here? I search, but I know this cannot be. I know that I deserve so much better than what I have been dealt, but how do I fulfill my prestige? I am an intellectual, but I see no one that fits my description or can satisfy my needs to be intelligent and share open-minded conversations, open-ended questions, and ponder the imponderables of "our" philosophy. I am deep. Are you deep? Can I go deep into you? Will you go deep into me to see me? Can we go delve into unanswerable thoughts? I want to debate for the fun of it, to expand my mind or my POV, and to learn about you and yours. I do realize I ask a lot and if you knew me, you would know that I don't ask all of this of every woman I am with or even attempt to be with. I just wish I had it. I guess I should have this as a standard, I will either start looking for that which I want and find it by subconsciously attracting it or end up even lonelier than before. Where do I stand? I stand 6'2" tall, but that isn't where I am for my standards. I fall short of what I should. I am ashamed sometimes. This is the surface of me, dare you dig ANY deeper?

"Personal Quotes"

There once was a chance for me to be more than me and I took for granted what was happening. Now adrift the land of the lost, I search and yearn for the end, the answer, the beginning, the more. Where is there but here and there and elsewhere? Where else is what has not been mentioned? If it were ever mentioned then it could not be a place unmentioned and mentionable.

Storms

I always enjoy storms.  As a child I loved feeling the whirring of the wind and hear the whistling and cracking of the air moving through the rubbery pine tree branches...I've always been a little more comfortable in turmoil--I've had to train myself to be uncomfortable there.

Haiku Challenge #6

This time, the lovely Carmen Cay showed me a photo first, then asked me to write a haiku.  It was a very different experience for me, but I like shiny new challenges (also, the not so shiny ones that look like fun).

Electricity
Crossing wires and pathways
Soaked until sunbathed.

File this under "Personal Quotes"

A moment's only purpose is to pass; what will you do with yours?

Slumber Affecting Observer

Tap, tap, tap...
The tapping of silence (( {echoes} )) throughout.

I can hear it all the time.

I listen for it--nothing.

Forever, it is sought after

And caught daily, hourly, and each second.

Bam, bam, bam...

The hammering of slumber beats at the door. It is not welcome. It exists only to weaken as the opaque blanket is slyly slid across the soon-to-be-once-sunlight sky.
A shepherd enters the pasture of starlets orchestrating wishes and hopes and dreams in the period of natural hiding known each night. She also bears the bronze bag of sand used to send the susceptible ones to sleep

Where she sends them to their death, fantasies, dreams, hopes, disappointments, pasts, futures, nightmares, and fears.

Surprisingly, she has limited control over where you go after the sand weighs your eyelids down like gravity draws us to the earth and her starlets in the places, fastening down a secure job that will never be accepting applications.

Who is she?

She is the moon--the one watching and observing the outside metamorphosis of our rotating sphere, of us, of our concious and subconcious worlds.

Can you figure out who this is about?

Beneath the protective shield you carefully utilize
LEnses to filter those allowed deep into your eyes--
As Keepsakes you secure via selective snapshots 
The Amorously received moment memory that's not
To be Given and forgotten. It's savory to distinguish
ChromA amongst not viewable colors--alas, anguish
From alTernative emotions emitted, yet, paused
Never alLowed to be animate. You'll have caused
More than Implicit impressions on heavy hearts,
You touch aNother with every passionate start...