Thursday, August 11, 2011

Fifteen and a Beauty Queen

I hope you learn that the ability to listen is a virtue
I hope your curiosity peaks in affairs that do not concern you
I hope you see that a whisper is more beneficial a scream
I hope you use you time to benefit intellectually instead of choosing to waste away
I hope you learn vicariously and become humble
I hope you can identify your own beauty without scorning another’s plainness

I hope you enjoy the people around you, they won’t always be
I hope you look for love but do not let it consume your journeys as a person
I hope when you fall in love with someone you let them compliment you and not take over your vivacious spirit
And when a love is lost I pray you do not let the mourning take over your life

"Without self-confidence we are as
babes in the cradle" -Virginia Woolf
I hope you smile more often than you frown
I hope you laugh more than you cry
I hope that you find joy in simplicy but  marvel at complexity
I hope you live out the things you dream of and gain wisdom from your experirnces

I hope that you live the life you hope for now
I hope you find an unknown confidence in yourself
I hope you raise beutiful children and find yourself a good parent
I hope you die regretless

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

"Blame it on my A.D.D., Baby"

i have nothing to write about except for how much i hate you. or dont hate you. how much i try not to think about what happened. but really its gentle wisps of hatered/judgement or meer vanity carrying me on a tyrant.
all i write about is 'growing' from my past..lets be real? nothing to brag about. as an entire species that is what we do; we grow from our pasts.
suppose i ought to persue my lost creativity.
They say one mans trash is anothers treasure. perheps ones emtyness is anothers fullness.

too bad im on the empty side today.

Friday, August 5, 2011

lyric workshop (May 2011)

he loses me, and i lose a tiny piece of myself.
so long my luckless romance
my back is turned on you
should've known you'd bring me heart ache
almost lovers always do
-A Fine Frenzy
I should regret it all more than i do.

it's a shame to love and lose
but i wont forget you
rip my heart out so i can show you
im strong enough
-The Whitney Myer Band

born to be born again & again

  you cant love me? bacause i cant find you. i cant see you. because i cant see me. i cant be me around you. you arnt even you in my head, because i cant be me. i dont look at me. i look away from me. you would too.
  some things are good. some things are great others feel right. right right right.. i want to feel right all the time. i want to know who me is. not the flimsy shape of me who is head strong yet easily contorted. none of it is me. its all a trial of me. its moving the puzzle piece around to see if the edges fit. they dont. they never do. i know part of me. pieces fit in here and there. the rest is filled with idling passion, angst, and insecurity.
each day i wake and paint a face on. the one i like to see in mirrors. the one i smile with. the one my eyes sparkle at you with. i am comfortable in that skin. it is one of the few things i enjoy in myself.
  the rest is an abyss. this, this emptyness. this nothingness in me binds my mouth and keeps my body from action. this is what keeps me alone at night and quite during the day. i read to be someone else. someone who knows who they are. conviction. its the goal. though missing half of myself, its hard to stand on anything. certain things, the ones that feel right, those ones, i know. they are the right pieces that burn the passion that yearns to be let out. with few opinions there is little passion to be spent. little pulse to be felt in the veins of my mind.
  i dont know enough. i dont live. i dont experience life. i take leaps when i have to and sprint back into my comfort zones. 1 forward, 2 back. i am soft bodied. i do not benifit from the things around me. i go throught the motion. i slide by. i could do better in every area. instead i sit lost in my own head. 
  insecurity is supposed to be the cause of all downfall. right? so i start a quest for myself there. to find myself outside to inside. Sure its unorthodox. narmalcy is a joke anyway.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

this moon

tat.tat.tat. tat.tat.tat. the notes. they wake me. shake me, tear me from this deep dark place.
words. raspy, strained, draining words.

I'm so much better than the way I let you treat me. Driving my own sanity away. I failed myself. Letting you in, at all. I'm letting myself out. Done. Game Over. No more thinking of you. Or the non-us. Done with doubting myself. No more settling. ever.
Weakness is all you ever were in me. and now im stronger. some 5 monthes later, im not damaged. im not broken. i'll never feed into you or anyone like you again. mark these words. ive seen the brightness , darkness'll not suffice.

"Sail with me into the dark"

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

i just thought you should know

   I missed your kiss on New Years. And for monthes, after, I ached for the feel of your lips.
   But i couldn't do it. If i kissed you it made it real. All of it: our conversations, the feelings, your scent saved to the hard drive in my head, the time i'd spent with you, real. If i didnt kiss you....if your breath never merged with mine, then I could continue to pretend that you didnt mean everything very much to me. Simply pretend I didnt know your inner workings. Pretend I didnt worry or think of you always. If I allowed myself to leave with the feel of your lips on my skin, I couldnt keep away. I wouldnt be capable of seeing you with someone else, if i kissed you... If I kissed you, I wouldnt be able to let you go.
   Your thoughts, your words, your beautiful figure consumed consume my mind for hours on end.  you you you on my mind. I wanted so badly to make you happy. to ask. to request you be mine and only mine.
   But in doing so I'd take a leap. a leap I couldnt bear taking for fear of failing you.
  I went the cowardly route. I let you go, I let the fear subside.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

different point of view

"the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" -Franklin Roosevelt

Fear of failure
Fear of abandonment
Fear of challenge
Fear of jealousy
Fear of hurting another
Fear of pain
Fear of the unknown
Fear of regret

   Fearing the leap. Fear of the bad that could rise from potential good. Fear one day she wouldnt take him back. or worse: that he would even if she'd hurt him.
   Fear one day she'll be defenceless against his charm. That one day she'll care more about him, than he, her.
   Perhaps its fear of comfortability, of letting their guards down completely.


You pompus overbearing narcissistic clod.
Dragging everyone into your vortex of hate, dishonesty and illegitimate wrath.


Friday, January 21, 2011

Failure To Maintain

Morals:   purity,   compassion,   honesty,   justness,   integrity,   honor,   faith,   ect.

We are all immoral.

Sit . . . lie. Swear you'll change. Make promises to yourself. You won't even think about it. Swear that's the last time. Your better than that. You wont. . .

Whatever 'it' was, youll do it again. Just once (you'll think). Could be you'll pick another 'it'. You'll think your making progress. But the 'it's' will haunt you. They don't go away. Each one only multiplies to taunt you; tease your senses, bait your weakness'.

Is staying away worth the constant thought, the longing, the emptiness? Could 'it' compel these emotional circumstances? Yet even more pressing: does one actually make gain from a perfect morality?

Monday, January 17, 2011


2. (usually lowercase) a person, as an artist or writer, who lives and acts free of regard for conventional rules and practices
  Punk era, where did you go?
  What happened to the rebelious youth everyone was tired of but secretly inspired by? The kids in tight jeans, studded belts, & various leather pieces? Their piercings were offensive. Language: crude. Tension: high. Yet passion raced through their vains..
  Authority was more than watchful; parents prayed that their sons and daughters wouldn't fall into the 'trend'. The visual aggression each punk kid radiated put people on edge. Perhaps that was their fuel.
  They, began the friend-family. They showed us that friends wernt to be casually used and dumped. Friends were of a higher significance. You stood by them no matter what. Support&Acceptance. You faught for friends, cried with them, protected them, died by their side for them if nessicary. Battles wernt avoided because there was no threat, the alliance you'd built would stand by you; save you and pick up any misplaced pieces for you. 
  Punk wasnt just a style. It wasn't about the liberty spikes, ultra-urban music or the 'start something' persona. Punk was about pushing limits, youths testing themselves, & the fight for independence on your own terms. Punk was about recognizing the unappreciated and creating an intense appretiation for it. This included art ,friendships, music and relationships alike.
  Was it a coincidence that as soon as kids desired diversity in their appearance parents started fearing what they might become? Rebellious. Angry. Stubborn. Maybe negative responses were caused by parental restritions. Perhaps the reaction of authority caused the distance & rebellion. Punk became a target of negativity.
  What was the peer reaction like? I wish id been present and had the ability to tell you. But, honestly, kids dont change. Sure, over decades they've become slighty more accepting. But mostly youth is a bunch of judgmental pukes each on a high horse of their own. A few old souls tossed in along with those arresting the maturity level of a jumping bean....and now, now you've got a solid mix.
  I would tend to think kids either loved the idea and began to live the life style for themselves or hated it and began talking about how much they loathed it, disassociating themselves from punk individuals & eventually causing conflict. Not to say the end result punk persona didn't welcome the agression but they didn't fight it either. 
  'punk' became a massive support network. Setting trends, pushing limits, fighting for true freedom. Theoretically they were invincible.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

a forward text..

Why? Why do you make me like this? Libidinous, lascivious, licentious. Ravenous.
Just your name and you've sent me spiraling. I sit lost in thoughts of you.
Your body. Your sweet soft skin on my own. Your breathe. Your clothes, on the floor. It's a craving for you. You. You. You.

envision: desire bold in your eyes, the way your lips meet mine. Embrace me. Take me. Have your way. Let me rip your clothes off. I can't help but devour you. I want to reach your most sensitive spots, create tremors within you. explore you. I grasp your hips, behind your neck. Rough then gentle. Bite my lip, wisper my name.

You make me breathless.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Route Change.

Dear Perfect Life,
You go something like this:
Childhood. High school. College. Meet significant other. Begin career. Get engaged. Continue working. Get married. Buy suburban house. Continue working. Build up savings. Have kids. Continue working. Raise kids. Retire. Hope your kids do the same.

As easy as you would be . . . I don't want you anymore.