Coffee Break

"We have yet to break the surface"

I gently wispered
after what seemed to be endless hours
of scratching the stars away
from the iridescent sky with my fingertips
to shelter them inside my hands
and feel their light.


My overall intention was that of stripping
the darkness out of the night-
of pulling constellations away
from their imprints in the atmosphere
rearranging and making them
US.


You see, years ago, my mother told me
"God is in everything"
and from that day on
I chose to listen more intently and move purposfully,
to swallow equal amounts of truths and mistruths
in the smallest possible pieces
and nibble around the edges of the unknown.



Wondering if the cores of all the peaches in the case
were housing belief within the pits, and
whenever I've closed my lips-
Id feel IT extend its hopes
pinned in every direction beneath my tongue,
shaping my words from experience
pulling all my strands of sin
from the lining of my soul.


I can always feel it
not out of fear,
but wisdom spread evenly about my skin.
In everything I see
touch
feel.


Holding to the stars, my pulse,
parts of us
resting in my hand
realizing that no battle had ever
been fought and won alone.

Tid Bits

It's past time for a daydream. A sweet, innocent, faithful introspect into why I am, awake...



In the morning hours, I tend to remain dissillusioned. I'm far from chipper and would rather be alone. I am not hindered by the side of the bed I happen upon departure, but rather my state of mind. My mind chooses seclusion.



...."And who am I
To give you what you need?
Well, im learning
Just learning
Learning how to live and..

To bear the weight
And push into the sky
It's easier to lie"



It reruns in my mind like needle pricked falacy. I'd give almost anything to have known things hadn't ended badly. Running seemed so much easier than facing...you. It's a pain that stays with me. In my dreams. Daydreams even.



People speak of empty voids where love used to reside. My void is only self-inflicted. Love. I've got so much more than one person should ever be allowed. I am truly happy. But my void is lack of patience, lack of selflessness. A void that houses my inner demons. Luckily for me, it's refillible.



Smile because tomorrow is not a promise. Thank whatever creator or entity you have within you; simply because you have today. James M. Barrie once said, "Life is a long lesson in humility." Humble yourself. Focus on helping someone else, and in the process, life just may better you.



***Break Free***

**Brandis**

"B" had character. I think that's what you'd call it...yes, character. You know, like the best old shoes; the timeworn ones with discolorations, rips and fading messages etched from old friends. Although, at one time, you loved those shoes...eventually, you had to throw them away.

Her first impression on me was, unfortunately for her, lasting. Upon first glance, she seemed bigger than life itself with her 5'9" frame. Being 2 inches shorter than myself, that statement may seem ludicrous...but allow me to explain. "B" had this wild, unruley hair that resembled a Nubian lions mane and skin colored deep molasis. Her mouth was more often than not occupied by her ever present tongue piercing. Black framed glasses encircled her small, brown eyes and her clothing was always either one size too big...or one too small. She had extra skin surrounding her body, as a reminder of the person she used to be. I thought she had to be 25...she was merely 19.

Our first conversation was not a pleasant one. I found her rambling about something, I later found out, she knew little to nothing about. Religion. Never a discussion starter I would choose, but coming from Utah....I'd come to the conclusion that I rarely had a choice. After that first meeting, "B" left me with a sour taste in my mouth. How dare she.

Before I knew it, she was sleeping on my bedroom floor. Packing 5 people into a tiny one bedroom apartment wasn't ideal, but "B" was a talker...and I have a hard time leaving people in need. She smelled of clove cigarettes and marijuana most of the time, and she read sci-fi romance novels. We spent many late nights me on my bed, and her on the floor. She usually slept in a worn out wifebeater and ripped underwear, and we'd reminice about love, sex, politics, and yes...religion. She was a classic born hippie. Berkely California had lost one of its best, I knew it.

There was something about her the perplexed me, somthing I couldn't explain. It was with her I whitnessed my first line of coke being snorted, my first bong rip, my first New Years on the beach. She brought out this side of me I'd never thought I had. "B" appeared so carefree but she hid her feelings like the small pieces of shake we'd often find hidden in her kinky hair.

I watched as she started to wear down. She burned bridges and began stumbling through the embers...day by day. After awhile, I coudn't have a conversation with her without a cigarette in her one hand and a regret in the other. I witnessed as her excentricity faded into dependancy. I guess she never quite understood her own needs. I'll never meet anyone else like her. It was time to leave her behind...along with a small pile of mistakes and ash.

I wonder where she is now. I wonder.

Twilight

It's all coming to me as if a tsunami is headed this way and I've got 10 seconds to release my song. Tiny pieces of frustration laced with experience, I've got too many phrases and not enought time. I'm tired of running circles around the person I've tried to be, still, I try. Circles; they're a waste of energy and I constantly find myself bound to the same place I started. So instead I wait for approval, search for approval, pray for approval of the same men that have ruined me. I am...a strong woman who has never realized the weight of the scars left on my soul- I am...a woman who's tried time and time again to erase the words etched into my peace-of-mind. I am...a girl who has never known anything other than change. Change of heart- change of body- change of beliefs- change of character. I am...asking for your approval, but not patient enough to wait for an answer.



So they push and they pull at my last bit of comfort as if they were born to do so. When it rains it floods in flashes of overwhelming heartache. I'm not ready for what lies ahead, I'm not pure enough. Feeding off the energy of a thousand lost souls...I myself, cannot be found. And everytime I get close to something that appears to be whole, once again I become a whitness as it whithers to nothing. The worst part is the only way I know how to keep my head above the current is to run...in circles...around what should have been.

For Izik

Nothing can console me like a dose of you.



I came into this with a broken heart and shattered expectations. A young girl on the verge of everything, reduced to shameful. The soothing echos of your voice fell from the sky...and I stood, reborn.



Flashbacks of waves crashing down on the shores of my life, each one includes you. Sing alongs in the moonlight, I fell in love each time. Drive into the dawn...once more for old times sake.



A song. My song. No one ever made me feel so real before, and the echos return. We were made for eachother. Me on my mountain, and you climbing the highest peak to meet me at the top. I miss you so much it stings sometimes- bring me back.



And still you remain, oceans away; Feeling change circulate in you veins. You are mine and I yours, but they say: If you love something, set it free.

Pocket Pennies

What is this? A rhetorical question that I never intended anyone to answer. It is made up of road trips and tear stained shoulders. It's the ability to look through virgin eyes and feel no pain. It is...someone elses ideal of forever. Let me cry for a minute please.



I can feel it now. The pressure to understand the unknown. The hurt of the unloved and the shadow of the sinner. Sins. It's all I'm made of yet I can taste your grace. Please rain on me in such a way that your wine will leave me lifeless and pure. It all seems like an illusion if you ask me.



You. Where is your understanding? If time is all we have now, you've wasted it on someone else. If I am the thread that locks in memories then I guess you've cut me free. Why then, am I...not free?



Rhetoric. It messes with my head.



Bitter. The taste won't leave me because I know that your intentions are flawed.



Prove me wrong, friend. This song will be sleeping on your doorstep...

Re-Runs

I'm not searching for a savior

in these crowded streets


I'm just watching for that small piece


of God that they say lies in all of us.


I wait for that divinity ...

Whispering through her shakey voice

Or his guilty plea for forgiveness ...

or in your tear swamped eyes.

I want to whitness it like a blind man who has just been granted the

ability to see for the first time.

He falls to his knees in gratitude

as tears of unworthiness soak his bloodstained shirt.

You see, he finds God in situation...

Circumstance.

And I, well...I've yet to be so wise.

Sweet Like Candy

...To my soul

When you care, you care genuinely

She said

It pierced me

Puncturing my flesh

Allowing emotion to drip down my back

Like the juice

From a ripened peach...sweet.

Balance the world on my shoulders

She said

You expose me

Unearthing my fears

Holding my breath long enough to understand

Like a poem

From your soul to mine...deep.

Let Me Catch My Breath

I often wake up falling

In and out of fantasies

Following a rabbit into its' rabit hole

Not knowing where I went wrong.

I often miss you intensly

Grocery shopping is not an opportuned time

Dinner will always be ready

Call me next year.

I often want to believe

There's so much good in affirmation

Dodging the nay-sayers

Still no sleep.

*And I write because I'd rather spill words than tears, but my breaths all gone even though I'm still here*

**Don't Wait Up**

It's 3:08 and I feel as if sleep has given up on me, once again. It's a warm night for October and my head is cluttered with the sounds of the broken down fan placed strategically in the corner of the room. I feel halfway between a dream and consciousness, my mind overthinking every breath. Dawn is not the time for poetry. The sun doesn't hear these ramblings that roll effortlessly off my not-so-innocent tongue. And if he does (assuming he's a he), he sure as hell doesn't answer back.



I've always felt the guilt associated with a sinner. I'm not half as strong as my mother, but have inherited her concern to become an obligatory someone. I feel no need to write sonnets about oppression that reflect nothing of the life I've lived. My depth is far deeper than the man who holds my hand, and a shade brighter than the gloss wetting my lips. I love my lips.



Dew forming on each individual blade of grass, I feel the weight of the night close in. It's amazing how all these words and phrases suspend above me; taunting me into submission. I want so desperately to use them all before this moment passes me by. Another day lost and forgotten.



The sunrise dances through my window, I turn off the fan. Goodnight.

Murdoch

Twisting and turning, mind reeling. I am 25 years old feeling no younger than 60. The days melt into one long succession of broken promises and retracked phrases. I'm sorry; maybe in our next life. I keep thinking that the days are getting shorter, when in all actuality, I'm just losing time. I find reminders of the minutes etched all over old photographs, thankyou cards, memories. The taunting kind that literally cannot be denied...just endured. Fake. I can't help but taste the bitter irony of it all. All things considered, it IS ironic; at my expense. It's all just a game, however, right? And they tell me, before I know it, the season will be over.

Writing: Spilling words is so much easier than spilling tears. But what happens when I find myself breathless?





The more time that passes, the more I realize how pointless regret really is. It is a step to progression, perhaps. Yet, it'll eat you alive if hold its' hand for too long. I'd gotten so used to telling the world exactly what I thought it wanted to hear...but the fact remains: I'm gone.



I knew this girl once...beautiful, amazing girl. We clicked, like I'd known her forever. We shared pretty much everything after awhile. Dreams. Loss. Faith. Shelter. She was family and I saw a little bit of myself in her eyes. I planned on growing old next door to one another, but she had other plans. Maybe I couldn't give her what they have...whatever that is.



They talk about how love never dies. Maybe there's only one real test of true love, something millions of people have spent thier lives trying to figure out. Maybe love is unconditional. Devotion beyond betrayal, beyond time, and distance. I don't think it's meant to be complicated...we make it that way.


I wish you love.

Love Ridden

Day after day the faces pass by

in a dull haze of light and color-

Everyone rushing in masses of stained humanity

Their faces pale splotches of blurred color amidst the multicolored swirl-

Streaming like a river down the streets

and over bridges built for burning...

Merging

Flowing

They dash up empty allyways

Their intricately colored scarves snapping in the chill breeze-

I stumble as I step off the sidewalk and into the brightly running gutter

Pushing through the crowd as I

transverse the crosswalk...

A piece of trash sweeps across the street

rattling hollowly

I frivolously gaze up,

for no good reason...

except perhaps the clattering of traffic-

The wind blows the loose hair out of my face

...and there you are...

Your eyes suddenly burn in luminescence

above the harsh voices of living

Everything is still; the gray masses recede until

We're alone on the empty street

One step at a time, you grow closer

...until I am consumed by only your face.

Then abruptly you pass;

a siren wails sharply,

and the multitude leaps into action-

Yet I turn;

Your gaze penetrates-

The masses...

and I can only see YOU.

Fragments of Me

Change. I'm changed and changing, ever so subtely. It's slow and it's the pain that I feel in my chest from day...to day. I'm here. I swear I am...But not really. I left here years ago, before I understood loss. I left in a dream that carried me to better days and wishful promises. I'm a wanderer. Walking along the shore in hopes that one day, I too, will be free. Sand crawling inbetween my ever-so-awkward toes, I'm crushing my mistakes beneath my feet. It's useless, for I will inevitably scoop them up and quietly make them again. Perhaps worse the next time around. Why am I crying? I am...nothing but blessed with everything I'm told I need. I am the golden child, please...tell me to be happy. This is my destiny. To just simply BE and in existing, I will stumble into bliss. Stumbling. That's one thing I do very well.

2007

Ever since I was a young girl, I've yearned to travel the world. Spending the greater part of my childhood in the care of a nanny, my parents had the opportunity to do just that. They'd come home from places I couldn't even imagine and all I could do in their absence was hope that one day, I would have such blessings.

As I sit on a small airplane along with about 50 other people, I realize it's not always as glamorous as I'd hoped. Attempting to take off in 30-40 mph winds, this small machine is being tossed around like a rag doll. A doll befriended by a child throwing a temper tantrum of monumental proportions. As the plane climbs in altitude I catch a glimpse of North Carolina from a birds eye view. It's interesting how invincible I felt at that moment. As if I was outside, looking in on my life. My heart beating with anticipation of this being my last flight, I close my eyes.

Here I am again. There's not much that scares me more than emotion induced over-thought, and when I'm alone…it's damn near unavoidable. I see the man in front of me clutch to his seat, obviously terrified of the turbulence our little plane has taken on. I look across the aisle at my two little sisters. I remember how lucky I am.

33 people killed in the most devastating shooting in American history. I get this gut wrenching guilt pierce me at my core. Loss is a part of life and yet I still struggle to make sense of such mindless tragedy. I've learned that perhaps I should avoid the news altogether. People want to know more. They want pictures and sound affects. And yet, that body you see was someone else's son. I guess it's okay just as long as he's not yours'… right?

I hold on to things and people I shouldn't. It's so clear that my life would be so much less complicated if I could just let things dissolve with the past. But…I just…can't. I hold every relationship, every road trip, every hurtful comment, every letdown, in the recesses of my soul. Each one of these things has a small piece of my heart invested into it. I can't let my heart go without a fight, experience is just too precious.

Thank you for being part of me; I'm still standing.