Sep 04
wondering about rain's picture


I realize now
the importance of feeling the aliveness in your hands,
and the ground under your feet.
The importance of feeling the stillness in your being
like the sky over looking the world.
I realize now
that 'my' and 'life' are not to seperate things,
that life is not something that is yours
but something that you are.
I realize now
that I am not my thoughts,
but something much more profound.
Something that I cannot put a label on.
I realize now
that labels themselevs are what trap us,
that by playing a role you are creating a box
and though boxes sometimes are comfortable,
they are little more than an illusion that narrows our perspective
to things we feel we can understand.
I realize now 
how hard a parent works
for their childs happiness
although sometimes at the expense of their own dreams.
I now know 
that to have presence,
Jul 17
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I am sick.
I am sick of being told that I am perfect,
only to have all my flaws exposed.
They tell me that skinny girls are pretty girls,
that I have nothing to complain about.
They tell me that I am lucky,
that I don't have to work for the way I look.
What I did have to work for though,
was the control.
The control to keep my mouth shut.
No more.
Friends would grasp my wrist and squeeze like their life depended on it.
they would say this as they flung my hand around franticly.
there are so many things I wanted to say but I kept my mouth shut.
I learned early on that if you complain about being skinny you get dirty looks,
but if you complain about being fat you get told your beautiful.
people point at my bony shoulders and say "gross",
tell me I'm "uncomfortable"
say I'm "weird".
May 26
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The double edged sword

I know disappointment,
I know it like I know the patterns on my hands,
constant and inescapable.
like dirt under your finger nails,
you clip them short but its some how still there.
I know disappointment,
it's like the floods that wash away my town,
building up like a heavy rain,
and clearing everything in its path.
leaving faint scars along the way. 
I know disappointment, 
the way it breaks down my imperfect walls,
only to rebuild them stronger each time.
only to burn the feeling deeper into my soul.
Oh yes darling,
I know the way it makes you cry at night,
cursing the very hope that brought you to life,
the way it hunches your shoulders in defeat.
The very way it cuts you deep.
I know,
and darling?
Keep trying. 
May 12
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I write therefor I am

I write for the same reasons photographers take photos,
to capture the wisps of thought before they disappear 
like the unchanging fate that the sun will dip below the horizon 
and the moment will fade.
I write for the same reasons plants photosynthesize,
because it's what I am meant to do,
passed down through my DNA
an automatic reflex that is key to my survival and makes me, me. 
I write therefor I am.
I write because you can create a world or destroy one,
your imagination is the limit and mine is unlimited.

May 09
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Just Over Think it.

Over thinking is like being handcuffed to a never ending merry go round
and then worrying about the possibility that it might break,
and crushing you under the weight of the ceiling,
and then thinking that theres a possibility you might live,
but what if the horrid music is still playing?
What if it makes you go deaf?
What if your rescued but are deaf and go through life deaf 
and the last thing you remember hearing is that stupid merry go round music?
Or what if you can't hear a car and get hit by it and die?
But wait, how did I get handcuffed here in the first place?
Over thinking is like getting lost in outer space,
Your not going to get anywhere in particular.
Over thinking is like a star collapsing,
It turns into a black hole that consumes every other thought but that one.
sucking it away into nothingness and slowly drags outside objects in.
Over thinking is a little like deja vu,
May 09
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The Poisonwood Bible

Apr 08
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Drowned by the Ocean

I rise from the depths,
slowly opening my eyes to the sky.
My vision warped by water,
senses dulled.
Mind awakens before body.
I can feel the currents pulling at my fingers
willing me to disapear into the abyss,
willing me to be forgotten like the very meaning of life.
Fighting the very forces of nature, 
my nature,
I struggle.

The current whispers sweet nothings in my ear.
Empty promises.
I would cover my ears but my fingers are wrapped in the invisible threads,
like thorns they trap me, scared of the pain I stay still.
I see the sun but cannot reach out to its warmth.
My eyes see it but my mind wont except it
for it could be just a mirage.
How can I know its warmth is true when the current tells me,
It will only feel colder than the water around me now.
Trapped by the ocean.
Mar 24
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I believe

I believe in rage.
But I do not believe in you.
I believe in human nature.
But I do not believe in you.
I believe in hate.
But I do not believe in you.
I believe in creativity.
But I do not belive in you.
I believe in selfishness.
Maybe I do believe in you.
I believe in terrible writing.
Maybe I do believe in you.
I believe in art.
It seems I believe in you.
I denied believing in you,
because thats all that I could do.
It seems that I cannot hide from you,
since I believe in all that makes you.
I believe in you my soul.

Mar 24
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I type on the computers key board like I play the piano,
in fluent phrases looking up at the screen like sheet music
knowing that magic is being made.
The magic is within the piano so I do everything
like I am playing the piano,
hoping that everything I do will leave bits of magic behind.
Someone once said "If I give off music I can live in peoples hearts forever."
Their music was magical and they did,
at least they lived in my heart forever.
That person lived every second of life like they were giving off music,
every smile every glance every laugh and dance and motion,
it was like a never ending concert that always kept you on the edge of your seat.
It was like you were living in their world of magic.
So I want to try and life like im playing the piano.
I will start with the key board on the computer,
and play my piano.

Mar 18
wondering about rain's picture

Shrinking Voices

Some how as the world grows louder,
I grow quieter 
Some how as the world gets more crowded,
more space grows around me.
Somehow there are all these shrinking voices.
The leaves still fall from the trees
like they did when I was small,
but how is it I would talk like I was tall and,
now I never really want to talk at all?
Some how there are all these shrinking voices.
The girl that now sits at the back of the class,
used to talk and smile like each day was her last.
Now the boy who used to be crowded by friends,
walks home alone with quick glances behind him.
In the world
there are so many shrinking voices
and the silence is deafening