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Falling


Beneath the fragrant, moonlit sky,
glistening in oblivion,
under that mirage of truth;
of surreal and tranquil dreams,
luxurious in its confident air and
wandering, drifting on whimsical currents
of the tide of celestial bodies,
the honest gleam of lacking makes contact.
Whirling in the cascade of misfortune,
the spark has been set upon rigorous efforts.
Having persistence and faith to no avail.
Seeing, knowing due to the illuminated serenity
of what shall not be found.
Discovering a perpetual abyss within the mind
through which one must pass
and knowing of a destiny
that leaves room only to reminisce on
what could have been, and to be
constantly tantalized by the flowing
harmony of the world,
of whose gleaming innocence you are not a part.
Truly believing that the laughter of the spirit
and the gentle caring has neglected to rendezvous.
Eternal rain, spilling in its mystical way,
gracefully caressing your mind yet
leaving, dismissing you with only wonder,
and that leaving you with outstanding
      pain.


Peace, love, happiness.
Does anyone really know what these are?
They seem to be but a state of mind,
nothing solid.
No human can fully comprehend them.
We write, we speak, we claim we know
yet no one can describe any of the three.

Peace: calm, tranquil, at ease
no fighting, just companionship
agreement.
Utterly unobtainable
Someone always disagrees.
Someone picks a fight-
out loud or in their heart.

Love: What is love?
No one knows. It is a subject,
something for the poets.
No one can say when your in or out
you just know,
yet you dont.
Its warm, of the heart, but
is it love or lust or like?

Happiness: yellow, warm, smiling.
The same yet always different.
No two people are happy the same.
You dont know what it is that makes you
happy, you just are.
Or youre not.
Then you wish for happiness and
lack it completely.

So what are they?
How can they be obtained?
People feel that it is their right
to feel these things, and fight for them,
thus defeating them.
Without a perfect world,
None of the three exist.
And they say, nothing is perfect.


Down in Front
Dimming to brightness,
Silence to a burst of sound,
Empty, quiet cold,
Bursting with light, color and sound.
Something to assail all your senses
All at once.

Perfect patterns of color,
Blended with light
Of the imagination and reality.
Rhythmic movements
of deja vu.

Sweet, melodious twinkle
Drifts from above, in front, behind,
Filled out with intertwined
Speech, of song, of the heart.

Salivate from the sight,
catching whiffs of a dream.
Knowing of the sweet scent
And pungent taste.

And cold, tingles the skin
As heat melts the soul.
The pain of longing and suffer
The soft touch of love.

Inspiring to the heart,
the mind the soul.
Remembering, telling, inviting.
Showing the path to tears,
joy and pain, hope and sorrow.
Pulled from the back, glued to the front.
Captivated, caught, lost
And smacking instantly into reality.

An ode to theater.


Trapped
From inside an invisible box,
you see the world slightly skewed.
The outside sees in, but all is distorted
wavered as through that special glass.
But no one knows youre trapped
as though caged, yet none can see your confinement.
They think they see you, none other.
They think they the truth, unobscured.
But they are mistaken, and they dont help.
Dont help get you out.
For they see nothing wrong,
they may be trapped as well.
An entire world caged within their minds.
And most not knowing it.
All too afraid to think outside the box.
Too afraid to reach out, be different,
Free anothers mind, thus freeing themselves.
Climb out, up the sheer walls.
There are thing out there you cant see
through the clear walls.
People roam free, but they dont know
if you are free, or refusing to move.
Jump.


    Anticipation
waiting, standing on edge.
shooting past the moment
on to never-never land
never stopping to look at
today.
Just waiting, hardly feeling,
hoping for tomorrow.
Not satisfied until the end
begins the next day.

The shaking starts,
the concentration ends.
Every nerve fixated on
one breath of time.
Mind whirling past you,
calling to catch up,
not waiting for you if you dont.
And never stopping to realize
that you are still stuck in
yesterday.
Called back out of the pleasant
daydream
that is still
tomorrow away.


Fall

Drift, with wind rain leaves
Down.
Down on my head shoulders
To my knees
I sit. Standing against time.
The leaves cant wait
pulled
Down, I follow.
Wet drip crisp crunch
slick slide down.
Fall
The chill brings the end.
I wait.
I can hold on to the wet leaves
as they fade away.
My time will come.
It is my fall.
But my winter, my December
is yet to come.
Its frost sits in wait
on the horizon. I
  see,
Through fog,
  the end.


   December
Cold, slow, long, drawn
Night, silver twinklings
in the sky, on the ground.
From dark edged clouds,
hanging on the sharp, chill air,
drift tiny flakes of winter merriment,
blessing those with dreams
of sparkling white.

A landscape blanketed,
soft and peaceful.
Not a soul in sight to mar
the still white ground, covered
by a raging storm of the
heavens. Hiding all flaws
with gentle whiteness,
hiding the cruel nature of
a biting cold with a flurry
of razor sharp edged wisps,
attacking the comforts.

So as the breeze blows cold,
remember the eminent snows
Their soft glittering peace,
Their sharp, suffocating rendition;
the two-faced,
snow.


Remember

The past
comes through
cant escape it
It is us - it is today
The past is the present
redone, hopefully
or if it is the same,
then all is lost
learn to remember
Remember my story
We cant forget,
we must learn
'The pain will ease if I can learn'
'Burn the past to the ground
and feel the heat of the futures glow'
Today is yesterdays ashes.
It is the foundation
in the water
in the blood
'keeps finding ways to get to your heart'
dreams, visions, not just tomorrow
remember yesterday.
They will ask.
                               -Kathryn
-Quotes from RENT


Cloudy

Rolling clouds across the sky Time passing on
Through the years
They keep
On coming
White ones and gray
Rain and shine
The clouds roll across my sky.
They never stop
Hardly ever stay
I will remember that
the rain moves on.
It makes the plants grow
and soaks my socks
But it cant rain everyday.
Even if the floods do come,
the clouds keep passing on.
Rolling above my head.
I can be safe inside
Watch them my window glass
But then Ill never feel spring
upon my face,
Not all rain is bad
Moist from the clouds in my sky.
Stormy winds and gentle breeze
Both push my clouds away.
Do I want the sun?
Or will I miss my cloudy days?


Untitled

Reaching from mind to hand
feeling for a reassuring touch,
stretch from myself towards
  and finding you.

Groping in the darkness
and finding a spark of warmth,
with light enough to see
what I find to be you.

The energy of the spark,
the pressure of the darkness,
connected together,
we now can stand, no longer alone.

Together we form a safety.
a solid connection
with a special clasp,
tied with knots.

From a simple touch,
from connecting two hands,
a bond is formed,
to form a bridge of solid light,
as true as such could be.

Weeded Speech

cotton tongued rising full fluffed thoughtlessness white dry static controlled by black burning destroying by dimmed grayed out muted,  conquered dehydrated listless empty cell cotton padding to fill air headed light porous sieved pierced and leaking too much air so quickly filled suffocated breathless tongue too big no more sight fierce bright light an end an end reach   grab               miss        drop            dark

immensely whelmed wetted down soaked and spilling drowning clogged heavy weight to fill the bottom pull deep down and drown black dark wet no sight no sound the light filled navy so water logged so bloated sink stink rotten hidden mildew weed suffocate with too much weight the tears fill down   drown within your own fluid waste.