In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful
Mr. Barack Obama
President-elect of the United States of America
I congratulate you on having gained the majority of the votes of those who took part in the election. As you know, the chances that God gives to his subjects pass swiftly. They can be used for the perfection of humanity and to the benefit of nations or, God forbid, to the detriment of nations.
I hope you will choose to honor the real interests of people and justice and equity over the insatiable appetites of the selfish minority. Use this chance to serve to the extent you can. And leave a good name behind for yourself.
People expect an immediate and clear response to the pressure for fundamental change in the American government's policies, both foreign and domestic. This is the desire of all the world's nations and of the American nation as well, and it should be the objective and basis of all your future government's programs and actions.
On the one hand, the American nation, which has spiritual inclinations, expects your government to focus its energy and will on serving the people; dealing with the current economic crisis; restoring the country's standing, morale and hope; eradicating poverty and discrimination; and renewing respect for individuals, their safety and their rights. It also expects policies that will strengthen the foundations of the family -- part of the teachings of the holy prophets, who are also revered in America.
On the other hand, the nations of the world expect an end to policies based on warmongering, invasion, bullying, trickery, the humiliation of other countries by the imposition of biased and unfair requirements, and a diplomatic approach that has bred hatred for America's leaders and undermined respect for its people. They want to see actions based on justice, respect for the rights of human beings and nations, friendship and non-intervention in the affairs of others. They want the American government to keep its interventions within its own country's borders.
In the sensitive Middle East region, in particular, the expectation is that the unjust actions of the past 60 years will give way to a policy encouraging full rights for all nations, especially the oppressed nations of Palestine, Iraq and Afghanistan.
The great civilization-building and justice-seeking nation of Iran would welcome major, fair and real changes, in policies and actions, especially in this region.
If steps are taken in the path of righteousness, toward the goal of carrying out the teachings of the holy prophets, it is hoped that almighty God will help and that the enormous damage done in the past will be somewhat diminished.
I ask the high God to grant all of humanity and all nations health and happiness, honor and prosperity, and to grant rulers and officials the ability to learn from the past and to use every chance to serve, to spread love and kindness, to eradicate oppression, to do justice and to follow the holy guidelines.
Mahmoud Ahmadiniejad
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Entry X
Skin taut
over edges of bones fragments
the remnants
Sewn together with a
lace of leather
and spine
skin taut
is still smooth.
smooth enough
to persuade an audience
into a security
that does not exist
frayed ends of twine
spark a blaze of fear
and a willingness
to give up everything
so it can be safe.
fear cannot touch
the bag of bones i am
translucent flesh on brittle framework
pulls itself tgoether (from the inside)
for fear of fearing
terrorist bombs blaze
tearing into the sacks
of flesh and bone
forgotten humans
of a forgone humanity
lives lost so
WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
garner payback, retribution, idiocracy.
terrorists bombs blaze and
burn the pride of an american people
never more content with giving up
fundamental freedoms or
the right to keep one's thoughts
to one's self.
I'm only going to say this once,
and at the end of a long poem nonetheless.
9/11 WAS an inside job. The United States Government lies to its people to justify the removal of our basic rights. Some speculate that the phrase, "Al Quaeda" never existed before 9/11 and the media frenzy to place blame.
If you don't believe me, look at Pearl Harbor, the incident that justified US entry into WWII. In the weeks before Pearl Harbor, FDR took an especially aggressive stance toward Japan, severing trade agreements and the like. When the Japanese navy sent their destroyer fleet to Pearl Harbor, Australian patrols notified the US gov't WEEKS before the Japanese arrived. We had more than ample warning - which was purposely ignored by our leader. We all know that Pearl Harbor not only cost so many lives itself, but also prompted the slaughter of our soldiers during WWII. Obviously, we can't trust our PRESIDENTS to respect the sanctity of human life. Humans are not tools to make money with, you fucking assholes. We're HUMANS, and our lives are PRECIOUS. Get over the war-fever, you conservative fuckheads. You respect the "rights" of an unborn fetus, yet willingly send your own children to kill and be killed.
Our government currently has the right to arrest you, without reason, and hold you indefinitely in a place undisclosed to anyone. They can torture you, since we have openly violated the Geneva Conventions and resort to waterboarding. They have the right to enter your home without warning or warrant, and use the evidence from this unlwaful entry to incriminate you. They have the ability to monitor every word you speak, your driving habits, your internet actions. They have even justified the use of cameras on literally every street corner at traffic lights. Next time you're stopped at a red light, look at the utility poles until you see the camera that will be OBVIOUSLY recording you. Give it a big ol' fuck you for me.
That being said, it should be made known that before 9/11, our government was unable to legally do any of the above (although they probably would have anyway). It is through a strategy of fear and mistrust of our worldly neighbors that our government convinced us to give up our most basic right - the right to privacy.
If you think this isn't a problem, I'd like you to read 1984. And if you don't think that a situation like that could ever be possible...look around you. Try turning off your telescreen. Try going anywhere without being monitored. It won't happen, my friend.
And so ends my diatribe.
Good night and good luck.
over edges of bones fragments
the remnants
Sewn together with a
lace of leather
and spine
skin taut
is still smooth.
smooth enough
to persuade an audience
into a security
that does not exist
frayed ends of twine
spark a blaze of fear
and a willingness
to give up everything
so it can be safe.
fear cannot touch
the bag of bones i am
translucent flesh on brittle framework
pulls itself tgoether (from the inside)
for fear of fearing
terrorist bombs blaze
tearing into the sacks
of flesh and bone
forgotten humans
of a forgone humanity
lives lost so
WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
garner payback, retribution, idiocracy.
terrorists bombs blaze and
burn the pride of an american people
never more content with giving up
fundamental freedoms or
the right to keep one's thoughts
to one's self.
I'm only going to say this once,
and at the end of a long poem nonetheless.
9/11 WAS an inside job. The United States Government lies to its people to justify the removal of our basic rights. Some speculate that the phrase, "Al Quaeda" never existed before 9/11 and the media frenzy to place blame.
If you don't believe me, look at Pearl Harbor, the incident that justified US entry into WWII. In the weeks before Pearl Harbor, FDR took an especially aggressive stance toward Japan, severing trade agreements and the like. When the Japanese navy sent their destroyer fleet to Pearl Harbor, Australian patrols notified the US gov't WEEKS before the Japanese arrived. We had more than ample warning - which was purposely ignored by our leader. We all know that Pearl Harbor not only cost so many lives itself, but also prompted the slaughter of our soldiers during WWII. Obviously, we can't trust our PRESIDENTS to respect the sanctity of human life. Humans are not tools to make money with, you fucking assholes. We're HUMANS, and our lives are PRECIOUS. Get over the war-fever, you conservative fuckheads. You respect the "rights" of an unborn fetus, yet willingly send your own children to kill and be killed.
Our government currently has the right to arrest you, without reason, and hold you indefinitely in a place undisclosed to anyone. They can torture you, since we have openly violated the Geneva Conventions and resort to waterboarding. They have the right to enter your home without warning or warrant, and use the evidence from this unlwaful entry to incriminate you. They have the ability to monitor every word you speak, your driving habits, your internet actions. They have even justified the use of cameras on literally every street corner at traffic lights. Next time you're stopped at a red light, look at the utility poles until you see the camera that will be OBVIOUSLY recording you. Give it a big ol' fuck you for me.
That being said, it should be made known that before 9/11, our government was unable to legally do any of the above (although they probably would have anyway). It is through a strategy of fear and mistrust of our worldly neighbors that our government convinced us to give up our most basic right - the right to privacy.
If you think this isn't a problem, I'd like you to read 1984. And if you don't think that a situation like that could ever be possible...look around you. Try turning off your telescreen. Try going anywhere without being monitored. It won't happen, my friend.
And so ends my diatribe.
Good night and good luck.
Friday, November 21, 2008
For you...
The trees
speak to me.
The moss
speaks to me,
calling for my head to find its home.
I will lie in the dew and dream of a time
without time,
an ageless age behind
a gateless gate.
Join me here in my womb.
Join me in what creates
the intermost musings of man,
join me in what shapes you,
me,
and us.
Help me to carve out a place
in a land where the soil
sticks to my shovel instead of itself.
I dream of your hand cupping my face
in my sleep
I watch you watch me
and I know that what you see
is what I see.
I see wombs and birth,
I see pain and war,
I see death.
I see the tombs we've created for ourselves.
The money-man and the loss
of a place to call home.
With you in my head,
I cannot see the dark side
of anything.
With you in my head,
I cannot escape the rising sun
and the horizon that creeps to entangle me
in its wayward arms and digits.
I see only your arms.
I see your arms, reaching out
to me
from the land in which I was born.
Your hands are the rays of sun
warming my peaks,
my valleys,
my plains.
Your hands breathe a hope
onto a tundra long deserted.
You are my sun rising.
You are the dawn of a new age.
You are the arms that hold me
in my sleep,
sleep that brings you again to me.
Once I watched you sleep
and saw a possibility
bloom in your eyelids.
I watched the world create itself.
I watched the way you watched me.
You shine into me
and light me up from inside.
I cannot explain how I am tied to you
only that I am.
Let these bonds strengthen with age
and weather the passing of days
so that every night,
we can look over one another in a deep sleep.
Let us pass into sleep together and
cease to watch one another
watching.
Let us join paths,
looking together into the horizon,
at the sun that beams light onto our faces.
Let us look outward at the world together.
The world will look at us together,
and the world approves.
I've seen this all in your eyelids,
just before I kissed them.
ps -
Once I mouthed the words
that urge my lips to speak.
They fell from my clumsy attempt at a rescue,
onto your smooth forehead from my lips.
You did not notice the fumbling,
awkward touching of my lips to your skin.
You slept.
I watched.
Know that I only watch over the things that ask me to watch them, so keep asking.
Know that the way I feel about you...
it's nothing that's ever written poetry like this.
It's everything you put into me given back to you
and more.
speak to me.
The moss
speaks to me,
calling for my head to find its home.
I will lie in the dew and dream of a time
without time,
an ageless age behind
a gateless gate.
Join me here in my womb.
Join me in what creates
the intermost musings of man,
join me in what shapes you,
me,
and us.
Help me to carve out a place
in a land where the soil
sticks to my shovel instead of itself.
I dream of your hand cupping my face
in my sleep
I watch you watch me
and I know that what you see
is what I see.
I see wombs and birth,
I see pain and war,
I see death.
I see the tombs we've created for ourselves.
The money-man and the loss
of a place to call home.
With you in my head,
I cannot see the dark side
of anything.
With you in my head,
I cannot escape the rising sun
and the horizon that creeps to entangle me
in its wayward arms and digits.
I see only your arms.
I see your arms, reaching out
to me
from the land in which I was born.
Your hands are the rays of sun
warming my peaks,
my valleys,
my plains.
Your hands breathe a hope
onto a tundra long deserted.
You are my sun rising.
You are the dawn of a new age.
You are the arms that hold me
in my sleep,
sleep that brings you again to me.
Once I watched you sleep
and saw a possibility
bloom in your eyelids.
I watched the world create itself.
I watched the way you watched me.
You shine into me
and light me up from inside.
I cannot explain how I am tied to you
only that I am.
Let these bonds strengthen with age
and weather the passing of days
so that every night,
we can look over one another in a deep sleep.
Let us pass into sleep together and
cease to watch one another
watching.
Let us join paths,
looking together into the horizon,
at the sun that beams light onto our faces.
Let us look outward at the world together.
The world will look at us together,
and the world approves.
I've seen this all in your eyelids,
just before I kissed them.
ps -
Once I mouthed the words
that urge my lips to speak.
They fell from my clumsy attempt at a rescue,
onto your smooth forehead from my lips.
You did not notice the fumbling,
awkward touching of my lips to your skin.
You slept.
I watched.
Know that I only watch over the things that ask me to watch them, so keep asking.
Know that the way I feel about you...
it's nothing that's ever written poetry like this.
It's everything you put into me given back to you
and more.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Maybe gonna write
my phone died
when i was telling you
how wonderful you are
my friends think you're great,
and it really humbles me
to be your girlfriend.
You have
invigorated me
for the long winter,
made me ache to
feel the cold in my lungs
as I tippy-toe to kiss you.
When you look at me
I can't breathe
because I've never seen anyone
see me that way.
Maybe it's childish,
but I thought romance was dead.
I never wanted to be
swept off my feet
or taken unawares
and somehow,
you did both without pissing me off.
(haha)
Years have passed since
I've felt warm.
These toasty lips of mine
want to thank yours
I know this sounds
elitist,
but I never thought
I'd find so much...
of everything I've really been longing for
in a math major.
:D
But I am so glad I did.
You balance me,
you keep me standing on my own two feet,
if only so that I can reach up and kiss you.
Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You've given me gifts that mean more to me than I am capable of telling you right now. I already can't see the screen because I'm trying not to cry.
And a tear just fell onto my hoodie.
Yes, the red one.
I have rediscovered laughter, and smiles, and cuddles, and kisses, and warm beds. I am learning what it's like to fall for a math major.
So here's a formula for you...
(U + me) / distance
______________
(temp in my bed when you're there) - (average temp of my bed)
=
The heat it takes to melt this girl's cold heart.
when i was telling you
how wonderful you are
my friends think you're great,
and it really humbles me
to be your girlfriend.
You have
invigorated me
for the long winter,
made me ache to
feel the cold in my lungs
as I tippy-toe to kiss you.
When you look at me
I can't breathe
because I've never seen anyone
see me that way.
Maybe it's childish,
but I thought romance was dead.
I never wanted to be
swept off my feet
or taken unawares
and somehow,
you did both without pissing me off.
(haha)
Years have passed since
I've felt warm.
These toasty lips of mine
want to thank yours
I know this sounds
elitist,
but I never thought
I'd find so much...
of everything I've really been longing for
in a math major.
:D
But I am so glad I did.
You balance me,
you keep me standing on my own two feet,
if only so that I can reach up and kiss you.
Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You've given me gifts that mean more to me than I am capable of telling you right now. I already can't see the screen because I'm trying not to cry.
And a tear just fell onto my hoodie.
Yes, the red one.
I have rediscovered laughter, and smiles, and cuddles, and kisses, and warm beds. I am learning what it's like to fall for a math major.
So here's a formula for you...
(U + me) / distance
______________
(temp in my bed when you're there) - (average temp of my bed)
=
The heat it takes to melt this girl's cold heart.
Mulan by Sylvie Leigh
I put away my silks
and took up my sword.
I wore my hair short
And bound my breasts.
Instead of his blessing
I carried the name of my father
On my back like my shield.
Sword in hand,
I fought
Men twice my age
Men my father’s age
from the back of a horse
Four times my size
I learned a man’s touch
from the blows of his sword.
I fought in battle next to the best of men
Not one knew I was not one of them
I was not one of them
My hair kept shorn
Close to my face
To hide behind my mask.
I lost myself.
I lost on some battlefield
Along with my blood
The ability to heal the wounds inside
With warmth
Like a woman does.
Ten years in the bitter cold
taught me
The foolishness of silk.
The long winters
stripped me to solid core,
My warrior spirit,
I was a warrior
Not a woman
I was a warrior
Not a woman
But I was.
When I returned home after ten years,
My favorite silk kimono
Still hung by my bedroom door.
And my hair grew back.
And my hands grew soft.
But I did not.
and took up my sword.
I wore my hair short
And bound my breasts.
Instead of his blessing
I carried the name of my father
On my back like my shield.
Sword in hand,
I fought
Men twice my age
Men my father’s age
from the back of a horse
Four times my size
I learned a man’s touch
from the blows of his sword.
I fought in battle next to the best of men
Not one knew I was not one of them
I was not one of them
My hair kept shorn
Close to my face
To hide behind my mask.
I lost myself.
I lost on some battlefield
Along with my blood
The ability to heal the wounds inside
With warmth
Like a woman does.
Ten years in the bitter cold
taught me
The foolishness of silk.
The long winters
stripped me to solid core,
My warrior spirit,
I was a warrior
Not a woman
I was a warrior
Not a woman
But I was.
When I returned home after ten years,
My favorite silk kimono
Still hung by my bedroom door.
And my hair grew back.
And my hands grew soft.
But I did not.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Lady Lonely
Back and forth,
back and forth,
back and forth,
the chair rocks the lady I'm sitting with.
It's not the highest functioning wing of the ward
which means,
this lady before me is pretty much shell.
A carcass of a human body,
a reminder that life is fragile and
can at the same time destroy our souls.
My ear tunes itself to the creaking
my foot subconsciously tapping to
the sound of
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing
like a bassinet cradles the young,
and like a mother over her baby's bed,
I watch the lady.
She's not sleeping,
but she's definitely not here
in the sense that
she can tell you what day it is
or what time it is
or what she ate for dinner
or her name
My heart beats in time with her breath
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
and the cat at her feet stirs its tail
in protest of the lazy September sun.
I come on Wednesdays
to be in her quiet company,
because at least then
I'm not sitting in silence
at home.
alone.
back and forth,
back and forth,
the chair rocks the lady I'm sitting with.
It's not the highest functioning wing of the ward
which means,
this lady before me is pretty much shell.
A carcass of a human body,
a reminder that life is fragile and
can at the same time destroy our souls.
My ear tunes itself to the creaking
my foot subconsciously tapping to
the sound of
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing
like a bassinet cradles the young,
and like a mother over her baby's bed,
I watch the lady.
She's not sleeping,
but she's definitely not here
in the sense that
she can tell you what day it is
or what time it is
or what she ate for dinner
or her name
My heart beats in time with her breath
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
and the cat at her feet stirs its tail
in protest of the lazy September sun.
I come on Wednesdays
to be in her quiet company,
because at least then
I'm not sitting in silence
at home.
alone.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
AST 300
A few non-traditional students in my class.
One has Johnny-Boy rolled up jeans and big black boots
Ink on his skin peeking out from the sleeves he's rolled up
It's a little bit poser
but a lot attractive.
What to do about that brooding man in the corner...
One has Johnny-Boy rolled up jeans and big black boots
Ink on his skin peeking out from the sleeves he's rolled up
It's a little bit poser
but a lot attractive.
What to do about that brooding man in the corner...
Friday, August 29, 2008
Haiku Night, Attempt #1
Hearts bigger in you
than your body seems to fit
beat in tune with mine.
Haikus are very hard.
Forget what your teachers say.
I can't write worth shit.
than your body seems to fit
beat in tune with mine.
Haikus are very hard.
Forget what your teachers say.
I can't write worth shit.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Poezzi Romanesti
A Poem
Tell me, if I caught you one day
and kissed the sole of your foot,
wouldn't you limp a little then,
afraid to crush my kiss?...
Tell me, if I caught you one day
and kissed the sole of your foot,
wouldn't you limp a little then,
afraid to crush my kiss?...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
That night you looked at me and said confront...
I'm going to lay it out for you.
There are
far too many holes in
what used to be human
what used to be a woman
to focus on more holes.
Let me lie and
lick my wounds before
pouring the salt from your lips into them.
Because nothing scrapes and hurts
quite so much as you
and the honesty dripping from your tongue
you know,
that tongue that i like to feel on mine.
that tongue that has
been more places than you're willing to claim
as explored, as yours.
and no, i can't lie about this,
not to you,
because I love you.
Dearly, harshly,
fiercely,
in the only wounded way I know how,
I love you.
but it will never be enough.
And that's just one of those things
those things you say I'm afraid of confronting,
one of those things I'll say to you
before this night is through.
I have nothing to give,
I have no love,
so the world around me
seems without a doubt
warmer than my own arms.
And
let me abuse my body
let me fill it with
enough poisons to forget
let me
drink up to drown
those voices in my throat
screaming out against the way you make me feel in your arms
let me kill the parts of me that
still feel
so I don't care when
that boy kisses me
in front of you
it's the same parts of me
that don't feel a thing
when i look at him,
when I look at myself.
Somedays I forget that
I feel anything at all
until I look at you
and I know,
at least if it hurts,
I'm alive.
and it always does.
and I know,
I know.
Nothing in you
could ever love
a thing like me
I know.
So please,
let me get this out.
Let me tell you,
in a confrontation to kill what's left,
I would love you if I could.
and I know you would never love me
because...
you have yet to give me a good enough reason to make me think you would never love me.
Since pain is my most powerful sense,
please,
if you want to be my friend,
try your very best to destroy me.
I spent all my life begging
not to be hit,
touched,
fucked,
sucked,
licked,
hurt,
and scarred.
And tonight I'm confronting what I need
and that's pain, from your hand.
I will use that as my reason to forget you, to cleanse my mind of you, and the drugs, and the sex, and the need for anything. When I know that you, my dear friend who does not love me, will never love me, I'll know.
It's ok then. It will all be ok.
I want you to make my place known to me. What is it exactly that I deserve? I'm putting myself in your hands, as I have on so many other nights, and asking you to deem me worthy, with the full knowledge that I never will be, that I never can be. That I am flawed and fucked up and out of love. I'm out of love, babe. I can't make it come out of nowhere, I have none to give you, I don't know if I'll ever be in love again and that's a fucked up thing to know about yourself. And nothing anyone can say will change that or make it hurt any less.
But, oh...pain. Welling up just enough to leak onto my cheeks and leave me. The only constant I feel, but at least I feel it.
There are
far too many holes in
what used to be human
what used to be a woman
to focus on more holes.
Let me lie and
lick my wounds before
pouring the salt from your lips into them.
Because nothing scrapes and hurts
quite so much as you
and the honesty dripping from your tongue
you know,
that tongue that i like to feel on mine.
that tongue that has
been more places than you're willing to claim
as explored, as yours.
and no, i can't lie about this,
not to you,
because I love you.
Dearly, harshly,
fiercely,
in the only wounded way I know how,
I love you.
but it will never be enough.
And that's just one of those things
those things you say I'm afraid of confronting,
one of those things I'll say to you
before this night is through.
I have nothing to give,
I have no love,
so the world around me
seems without a doubt
warmer than my own arms.
And
let me abuse my body
let me fill it with
enough poisons to forget
let me
drink up to drown
those voices in my throat
screaming out against the way you make me feel in your arms
let me kill the parts of me that
still feel
so I don't care when
that boy kisses me
in front of you
it's the same parts of me
that don't feel a thing
when i look at him,
when I look at myself.
Somedays I forget that
I feel anything at all
until I look at you
and I know,
at least if it hurts,
I'm alive.
and it always does.
and I know,
I know.
Nothing in you
could ever love
a thing like me
I know.
So please,
let me get this out.
Let me tell you,
in a confrontation to kill what's left,
I would love you if I could.
and I know you would never love me
because...
you have yet to give me a good enough reason to make me think you would never love me.
Since pain is my most powerful sense,
please,
if you want to be my friend,
try your very best to destroy me.
I spent all my life begging
not to be hit,
touched,
fucked,
sucked,
licked,
hurt,
and scarred.
And tonight I'm confronting what I need
and that's pain, from your hand.
I will use that as my reason to forget you, to cleanse my mind of you, and the drugs, and the sex, and the need for anything. When I know that you, my dear friend who does not love me, will never love me, I'll know.
It's ok then. It will all be ok.
I want you to make my place known to me. What is it exactly that I deserve? I'm putting myself in your hands, as I have on so many other nights, and asking you to deem me worthy, with the full knowledge that I never will be, that I never can be. That I am flawed and fucked up and out of love. I'm out of love, babe. I can't make it come out of nowhere, I have none to give you, I don't know if I'll ever be in love again and that's a fucked up thing to know about yourself. And nothing anyone can say will change that or make it hurt any less.
But, oh...pain. Welling up just enough to leak onto my cheeks and leave me. The only constant I feel, but at least I feel it.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
not broken
"and I guess I'm not broken if im meant to be this way"
what is meant to be?
the
supplications of the beggar
pleading to walk
instead of hang
ring out over the city square
and the people echo
"meant to be"
the divinations
of the preaching choir
float down from those rafters.
"meant to be"
the tears spread
over the page
of the book
of the man
whose hands hold me
and he says, "meant to be"
and I am the only person in this town
who thinks I am NOT meant to be this way.
what is meant to be?
the
supplications of the beggar
pleading to walk
instead of hang
ring out over the city square
and the people echo
"meant to be"
the divinations
of the preaching choir
float down from those rafters.
"meant to be"
the tears spread
over the page
of the book
of the man
whose hands hold me
and he says, "meant to be"
and I am the only person in this town
who thinks I am NOT meant to be this way.
that dangerous work
and it's dangerous work
getting through that
muck and mire
to try my luck
at another hand
in your games
your games shame me
turn me into the fool
you know me as
and all i can whisper
as I lose another hand
is there any way to win?
and it's dangerous work
getting through that
muck and mire
to try my hand
at another hand
in your games
the seas
are quite too cool
but at least
they don't lie to me.
getting through that
muck and mire
to try my luck
at another hand
in your games
your games shame me
turn me into the fool
you know me as
and all i can whisper
as I lose another hand
is there any way to win?
and it's dangerous work
getting through that
muck and mire
to try my hand
at another hand
in your games
the seas
are quite too cool
but at least
they don't lie to me.
Fiona Apple Sings for me...
This is not about love
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache
_____
I'm gonna make a mistake
I'm gonna do it on purpose
I'm gonna waste my time
'Cause I'm full as a tick
And I'm scratching at the surface
And what I find is mine
And when the day is done, and I look back
And the fact is I had fun, fumbling around
All the advice I shunned, and I ran
Where they told me not to run, but I sure
Had fun, so
I'm gonna f*** it up again
I'm gonna do another detour
Unpave my path
And if you wanna make sense
Whatcha looking at me for
I'm no good at math
And when I find my way back,
The fact is I just may stay, or I may not
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake
I wanna mistake why can't I make a mistake?
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why
Do I wanna do right, of course but
Do I really wanna feel I'm forced to
Answer you, hell no
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake, I wanna
Make a mistake, why can't I make a mistake
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why
______
Can't take a good day without a bad one
Don't feel just to smile until I've had one
Where did I learn
I make a fuss about a little thing
The rhyme is losing to the riddling
Where's the turn
I don't want a home, I'd ruin that
Home is where my habits have a habitat
Why give it a turn
I've got a plan, a demand and it just began
And if you're right, you'll agree
Here's coming a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
________
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
Won't do no good
To sing no love song
No sound could simulate
The presence of a man
Won't do no good
Asking no questions
Your divination should
Acquaint you with the plan
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
My feel for you, boy
Is decaying in front of me
Like the carrion
Of a murdered pery
And all I want is
To save you, honey
You can't intimidate me
Back into your arms
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
My feel for you, boy
Is decaying in front of me
Like the carrion
Of a murdered prey
And all I want is
To save you, honey
Or the strength
To walk away
_______
Criminal lyrics
I've been a bad bad girl
I've been careless
With a delicate man
And it's a sad sad world
When a girl will break a boy
Just because she can
Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and
I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you
'Cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know
Where I can begin
What I need is
A good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
Heaven help me
For the way I am
Save me from
These evil deeds
Before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings
The consequence at hand
But I keep livin' this day like
The next will never come
Oh help me but
Don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself
Of all these lies till
I'm good enough for him
I've got a lot to lose
And I'm bettin' high
So I'm beggin' you
Before it ends
Just tell me where to begin
What I need
Is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
Let me know the way
Before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay
The law and let me go
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say
The devil wants to know
What I need
Is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
What I need is
A good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
_______
If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine
I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at piece and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play
__________
I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live
Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still
Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy
How crazy I am
You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know
And I pray that you will
Fast as you can, baby runfree yourself of me
Fast as you can
I may be soft in your palm but I'll soon grow
Hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win
My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will
Disprove your faith in man
So if you catch me trying to find my way into your
Heart from under your skin
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Sometimes my mind don't shake and shift
But most of the time, it does
And I get to the place where I'm begging for a lift
Or I'll drown in the wonders and the was
And I'll be your girl, if you say it's a gift
And you give me some more of your drugs
Yeah, I'll be your pet, if you just tell me it's a gift
'Cause I'm tired of whys, choking on whys,
Just need a little because, because
I let the beast in and then;
I even tried forgiving him, but it's too soon
So I'll fight again, again, again, again, again.
And for a little while more, I'll soar the
Uneven wind, complain and blame
The sterile land
But if you're getting any bright ideas, quiet dear
I'm blooming within
Fast as you can, baby wait watch me, I'll be out
Fast as I can, maybe late but at least about
Fast as you can leave me, let this thing
Run its route
Fast as you can [x4]
_________
How many times can it escalate
Till it elevates to a place I can't breathe?
And I must decide, if you must deride
That I'm much obliged to up and go
I'll idealize, then realize that it's no
Sacrifice, because the price is paid, and
There's nothing left to grieve
Fuckin go-
Cuz I've done what I could for you, and I do know what's
Good for me and I'm not benefiting, instead
I'm sitting singing again, singing again, singing again,
Sing, sing, sing again
How can I deal with this, if he won't get with this
M'I gonna heal from this; he won't admit to it
Nothing to figure out; I gotta get him out
It's time the truth was out that he don't give a
Shit about me
_______
'Cause I am not in love
In fact I can't stop falling out
I miss that stupid ache
_____
I'm gonna make a mistake
I'm gonna do it on purpose
I'm gonna waste my time
'Cause I'm full as a tick
And I'm scratching at the surface
And what I find is mine
And when the day is done, and I look back
And the fact is I had fun, fumbling around
All the advice I shunned, and I ran
Where they told me not to run, but I sure
Had fun, so
I'm gonna f*** it up again
I'm gonna do another detour
Unpave my path
And if you wanna make sense
Whatcha looking at me for
I'm no good at math
And when I find my way back,
The fact is I just may stay, or I may not
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake
I wanna mistake why can't I make a mistake?
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why
Do I wanna do right, of course but
Do I really wanna feel I'm forced to
Answer you, hell no
I've acquired quite a taste
For a wellmade mistake, I wanna
Make a mistake, why can't I make a mistake
I'm always doing what I think I should
Almost always doing everybody good
Why
______
Can't take a good day without a bad one
Don't feel just to smile until I've had one
Where did I learn
I make a fuss about a little thing
The rhyme is losing to the riddling
Where's the turn
I don't want a home, I'd ruin that
Home is where my habits have a habitat
Why give it a turn
I've got a plan, a demand and it just began
And if you're right, you'll agree
Here's coming a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
________
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
Won't do no good
To sing no love song
No sound could simulate
The presence of a man
Won't do no good
Asking no questions
Your divination should
Acquaint you with the plan
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
My feel for you, boy
Is decaying in front of me
Like the carrion
Of a murdered pery
And all I want is
To save you, honey
You can't intimidate me
Back into your arms
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone a)
Oh, honey
(I've gone away)
My feel for you, boy
Is decaying in front of me
Like the carrion
Of a murdered prey
And all I want is
To save you, honey
Or the strength
To walk away
_______
Criminal lyrics
I've been a bad bad girl
I've been careless
With a delicate man
And it's a sad sad world
When a girl will break a boy
Just because she can
Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and
I want to
Suffer for my sins
I've come to you
'Cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just don't know
Where I can begin
What I need is
A good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
Heaven help me
For the way I am
Save me from
These evil deeds
Before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings
The consequence at hand
But I keep livin' this day like
The next will never come
Oh help me but
Don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself
Of all these lies till
I'm good enough for him
I've got a lot to lose
And I'm bettin' high
So I'm beggin' you
Before it ends
Just tell me where to begin
What I need
Is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
Let me know the way
Before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay
The law and let me go
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say
The devil wants to know
What I need
Is a good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
What I need is
A good defense
'Cause I'm feelin'
Like a criminal
And I need
To be redeemed
To the one
I've sinned against
Because he's all
I ever knew of love
_______
If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine
I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at piece and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play
__________
I let the beast in too soon, I don't know how to live
Without my hand on his throat; I fight him always and still
Oh darling, it's so sweet, you think you know how crazy
How crazy I am
You say you don't spook easy, you won't go, but I know
And I pray that you will
Fast as you can, baby runfree yourself of me
Fast as you can
I may be soft in your palm but I'll soon grow
Hungry for a fight, and I will not let you win
My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will
Disprove your faith in man
So if you catch me trying to find my way into your
Heart from under your skin
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Fast as you can, baby scratch me out, free yourself
Fast as you can
Sometimes my mind don't shake and shift
But most of the time, it does
And I get to the place where I'm begging for a lift
Or I'll drown in the wonders and the was
And I'll be your girl, if you say it's a gift
And you give me some more of your drugs
Yeah, I'll be your pet, if you just tell me it's a gift
'Cause I'm tired of whys, choking on whys,
Just need a little because, because
I let the beast in and then;
I even tried forgiving him, but it's too soon
So I'll fight again, again, again, again, again.
And for a little while more, I'll soar the
Uneven wind, complain and blame
The sterile land
But if you're getting any bright ideas, quiet dear
I'm blooming within
Fast as you can, baby wait watch me, I'll be out
Fast as I can, maybe late but at least about
Fast as you can leave me, let this thing
Run its route
Fast as you can [x4]
_________
How many times can it escalate
Till it elevates to a place I can't breathe?
And I must decide, if you must deride
That I'm much obliged to up and go
I'll idealize, then realize that it's no
Sacrifice, because the price is paid, and
There's nothing left to grieve
Fuckin go-
Cuz I've done what I could for you, and I do know what's
Good for me and I'm not benefiting, instead
I'm sitting singing again, singing again, singing again,
Sing, sing, sing again
How can I deal with this, if he won't get with this
M'I gonna heal from this; he won't admit to it
Nothing to figure out; I gotta get him out
It's time the truth was out that he don't give a
Shit about me
_______
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Waxing Poetic
The maybes of you and me
paralyze me
and pin me to my sheets
in tears.
I haven't felt this afraid in a long time
which means
I haven't been this honest
in just as long.
I may not feel safe
but I don't feel unsafe
and that's the first step, I suppose.
I'm not asking you to make any promises to me
but
I will humbly ask you
to tread lightly
if you don't intend to stay here.
Because the best of your intentions
might make it hurt less
but real love
takes chances.
paralyze me
and pin me to my sheets
in tears.
I haven't felt this afraid in a long time
which means
I haven't been this honest
in just as long.
I may not feel safe
but I don't feel unsafe
and that's the first step, I suppose.
I'm not asking you to make any promises to me
but
I will humbly ask you
to tread lightly
if you don't intend to stay here.
Because the best of your intentions
might make it hurt less
but real love
takes chances.
nothing
I guess I'm done writing for the night.
That was exhausting.
and quiet.
but it's never over, is it?
and I guess I'm not broken,
if I'm meant to be this way.
That was exhausting.
and quiet.
but it's never over, is it?
and I guess I'm not broken,
if I'm meant to be this way.
AIM Conversation #645
There are some parts of my I'll always hate
those demons I may defeat
but keep around
just to remind myself
I've beaten them.
he tells me
i've overcome
(lie)
i'm hard
(lie)
i'm cold
(lie)
i never loved you.
that last one isn't a lie
because it's hard to be in love
with a broken girl and her demons,
isn't it?
those demons I may defeat
but keep around
just to remind myself
I've beaten them.
he tells me
i've overcome
(lie)
i'm hard
(lie)
i'm cold
(lie)
i never loved you.
that last one isn't a lie
because it's hard to be in love
with a broken girl and her demons,
isn't it?
You shouldn't read this
I didn't move
because I was busy not thinking;
if he had touched my mind
I wouldn't be around here today to tell you this.
Down for the count,
and not getting up until they ring that bell,
I just can't see myself standing with these knees.
it's imprisonment and
throwing away the key to those places
you could have gone,
it's doing what you have to
to get through,
it's letting him lie next to you
and throwing up in your mouth
and knowing nothing will ever feel good again.
At least not in this body.
because I was busy not thinking;
if he had touched my mind
I wouldn't be around here today to tell you this.
Down for the count,
and not getting up until they ring that bell,
I just can't see myself standing with these knees.
it's imprisonment and
throwing away the key to those places
you could have gone,
it's doing what you have to
to get through,
it's letting him lie next to you
and throwing up in your mouth
and knowing nothing will ever feel good again.
At least not in this body.
Breakfast
you only came in for the coffee
you tell me
as your well-formed arm reaches over my open notebook.
Your hands are empty, I see.
Something other than you
has got to fill my lungs
something other than
your proximity
the waves floating off your skin
the beams glancing off those eyes
has got to walk through that door.
and if it doesn't,
i might leave this place with you.
abusing a body that has already been there before
doesn't feel as bad as it used to.
after all,
what does it matter who shits where I eat when
i've lost count already.
you tell me
as your well-formed arm reaches over my open notebook.
Your hands are empty, I see.
Something other than you
has got to fill my lungs
something other than
your proximity
the waves floating off your skin
the beams glancing off those eyes
has got to walk through that door.
and if it doesn't,
i might leave this place with you.
abusing a body that has already been there before
doesn't feel as bad as it used to.
after all,
what does it matter who shits where I eat when
i've lost count already.
My Lai
gate keeper
memory seeker
chasing solace through barren lands
they've already come through here with their flame throwers.
there are no wombs left to bear anyone any hope.
my opus may not be drawn
on the blank canvas you've left
stretched over that gaping hole in chest
but it will come.
I will write those wombs
I will speak that hope.
I will plant stories in the land where my father died.
memory seeker
chasing solace through barren lands
they've already come through here with their flame throwers.
there are no wombs left to bear anyone any hope.
my opus may not be drawn
on the blank canvas you've left
stretched over that gaping hole in chest
but it will come.
I will write those wombs
I will speak that hope.
I will plant stories in the land where my father died.
T.A.V, or the man who cried on my shoulder once
Some of these things are better left.
It's all a path
and that path starts somewhere
in down-home houses with fields behind.
No beauty comes without a price tag,
and this is mine.
Running the gauntlet
was more like
curling up on the floor
when you're ten
and those hands are so big.
Only so many places to hide
from he who is hiding the past.
No one expected you to swallow it all,
and when you tried
we all watched in pain
as it came back up all over our nice little dinner.
Table settings and curtains can't hide
the ways you try to leave that country
that left you.
The real lesson here is that war never ends.
Because I'm still fighting it for you.
It's all a path
and that path starts somewhere
in down-home houses with fields behind.
No beauty comes without a price tag,
and this is mine.
Running the gauntlet
was more like
curling up on the floor
when you're ten
and those hands are so big.
Only so many places to hide
from he who is hiding the past.
No one expected you to swallow it all,
and when you tried
we all watched in pain
as it came back up all over our nice little dinner.
Table settings and curtains can't hide
the ways you try to leave that country
that left you.
The real lesson here is that war never ends.
Because I'm still fighting it for you.
First pack of the night
this glass-bottle-green ashtray
sits on the edge of my table
seasoned with the ashes of my mistakes,
my old flames burnt out with a flick of my wrist
and gone up in smoke
over that pack of Camels in my sleeve.
Red-mouthed lipstick proof of
a failure to remain tame
mocks my feeble attempts to maintain.
Maintain.
maintain.
Tell-tale nothings tell tall tales of
daddy didn'ts and
hard-hitting lessons
and
schooling in that 'Nam shit.
No amount of ashes fill my cup
Even so, I'll try
to smother out that past
without choking on my own lies.
sits on the edge of my table
seasoned with the ashes of my mistakes,
my old flames burnt out with a flick of my wrist
and gone up in smoke
over that pack of Camels in my sleeve.
Red-mouthed lipstick proof of
a failure to remain tame
mocks my feeble attempts to maintain.
Maintain.
maintain.
Tell-tale nothings tell tall tales of
daddy didn'ts and
hard-hitting lessons
and
schooling in that 'Nam shit.
No amount of ashes fill my cup
Even so, I'll try
to smother out that past
without choking on my own lies.
PhD in Him - Vanessa Hidary
if i counted up all the hours
i'd studied
read
focused on
fucked
sucked
cried over
cried over
gotten up and been resilient about
not given up on
believed in
loved
hated
so believed in
ignored my friends advice about
talked about
talked about
did i mention talked about?
I'd have a PhD in him.
By now, I could have had a PhD
in Philosophy,
Internal Medicine,
Middle Eastern Studies,
Stem Cell Research.
But no, I have a PhD in Him.
Funny how he brings me no income,
no pension,
no future,
no future,
did I mention no future?
And so don't ask me what I did this year
I didn't write any plays or any books
I didn't do some responsible shit like
pursue a backup career.
I was fully employed in the fury of him
graduated valedictorian at the tippy top of my class
magna cum fucking laude
and a waste of fucking time
hours upon hours
spent figuring out his equations
riddles
word problems
crossword puzzles
treatment
cracking his codes
philosophising his constitution
over wine
vodka
vodka
oh, did I mention vodka?
So quiz me
I know him better than he knows himself.
I'm that matriculated doctorate ho
paid full tuition at his All-About-Him University
Ladies have you visited?
See, now I'm licensed to teach and preach
sparing my pride
in hopes that other women will read my dissertation
See, I have a PhD in Him
and my transcript is rolling off my wicked tongue.
Not sure of how my most difficult degree might serve me
but think one day I'll thank him
for reminding me how fierce a pupil of life
I really am.
i'd studied
read
focused on
fucked
sucked
cried over
cried over
gotten up and been resilient about
not given up on
believed in
loved
hated
so believed in
ignored my friends advice about
talked about
talked about
did i mention talked about?
I'd have a PhD in him.
By now, I could have had a PhD
in Philosophy,
Internal Medicine,
Middle Eastern Studies,
Stem Cell Research.
But no, I have a PhD in Him.
Funny how he brings me no income,
no pension,
no future,
no future,
did I mention no future?
And so don't ask me what I did this year
I didn't write any plays or any books
I didn't do some responsible shit like
pursue a backup career.
I was fully employed in the fury of him
graduated valedictorian at the tippy top of my class
magna cum fucking laude
and a waste of fucking time
hours upon hours
spent figuring out his equations
riddles
word problems
crossword puzzles
treatment
cracking his codes
philosophising his constitution
over wine
vodka
vodka
oh, did I mention vodka?
So quiz me
I know him better than he knows himself.
I'm that matriculated doctorate ho
paid full tuition at his All-About-Him University
Ladies have you visited?
See, now I'm licensed to teach and preach
sparing my pride
in hopes that other women will read my dissertation
See, I have a PhD in Him
and my transcript is rolling off my wicked tongue.
Not sure of how my most difficult degree might serve me
but think one day I'll thank him
for reminding me how fierce a pupil of life
I really am.
Zen 101 v. 4
Flower Shower
Subhuti was Buddha's disciple. He was able to understand the potency of emptiness, the viewpoint that nothing exists except in its relationship of subjectivity and objectivity.
One day Subhuti, in a mood of sublime emptiness, was sitting under a tree. Flowers began to fall about him.
"We are praising you for your discourse on emptiness," the gods whispered to him.
"But I have not spoken of emptiness," said Subhuti.
"You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard emptiness," responded the gods. "This is true emptiness." And blossoms showered upon Subhuto as rain.
Subhuti was Buddha's disciple. He was able to understand the potency of emptiness, the viewpoint that nothing exists except in its relationship of subjectivity and objectivity.
One day Subhuti, in a mood of sublime emptiness, was sitting under a tree. Flowers began to fall about him.
"We are praising you for your discourse on emptiness," the gods whispered to him.
"But I have not spoken of emptiness," said Subhuti.
"You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard emptiness," responded the gods. "This is true emptiness." And blossoms showered upon Subhuto as rain.
Zen 101 v. 3
The Giver Should Be Thankful
While Seietsu was the master of Engaku in Kamakura he required larger quarters, since those in which he was teaching were overcrowded. Umeza Seibei a merchant of Edo, decided to donate five hundred pieces of gold called ryo toward the construction of a more commodious school. This money he brought to the teacher.
Seisetsu said: "All right. I will take it."
Umezu gave Seisetsu the sack of gold, but he was dissatisfied with the attitude of the teacher. One might live a whole year on three ryo, and the merchant had not even been thanked for five hundred.
"In that sack are five hundred ryo," hinted Umeza.
"You told me that before," replied Seisetsu.
"Even if I am a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is a lot of money," said Umezu.
"Do you want me to thank you for it?" asked Seisetsi.
"You ought to," replied Umeza.
"Why should I?" inquired Seisetsu. "The giver should be thankful."
While Seietsu was the master of Engaku in Kamakura he required larger quarters, since those in which he was teaching were overcrowded. Umeza Seibei a merchant of Edo, decided to donate five hundred pieces of gold called ryo toward the construction of a more commodious school. This money he brought to the teacher.
Seisetsu said: "All right. I will take it."
Umezu gave Seisetsu the sack of gold, but he was dissatisfied with the attitude of the teacher. One might live a whole year on three ryo, and the merchant had not even been thanked for five hundred.
"In that sack are five hundred ryo," hinted Umeza.
"You told me that before," replied Seisetsu.
"Even if I am a wealthy merchant, five hundred ryo is a lot of money," said Umezu.
"Do you want me to thank you for it?" asked Seisetsi.
"You ought to," replied Umeza.
"Why should I?" inquired Seisetsu. "The giver should be thankful."
Zen 101 v. 2
Zengetsu, a Chinese master of the T'ang dynasty, wrote the following advice for his pupils:
Living in the world yet not forming attachments to the dust of the world is the way of a true Zen student.
When witnessing the good action of another encourage yourself to follow his example. Hearing of the mistaken action of another, advise yourself not to emulate it.
Even though alone in a dark room, be as if you were facing a noble guest. Express your feelings, but become no more expressive than your true nature.
Poverty is your treasure. Never exchange it for an easy life.
A person may appear a fool and yet not be one. He may only be guarding his wisdom carefully.
Virtues are the fruit of self-discipline and do not drop from heaven of themselves as does rain or snow.
Modesty is the foundation of all virtues. Let your neighbors discover you before you make yourself known to them.
A noble heart never forces itself forward. Its words are as rare gems, seldom displayed and of great value.
To a sincere student, every day is a fortunate day. Time passes but he never lags behind. Neither glory nor shame can move him.
Censure yourself, never another. Do not discuss right and wrong.
Some things, though right, were considered wrong for generations. Since the value of righteousness may be recognized after centuries, there is no need to crave immediate appreciation.
Live with cause and leave results to the great law of the universe. Pass each day in peaceful contemplation.
Living in the world yet not forming attachments to the dust of the world is the way of a true Zen student.
When witnessing the good action of another encourage yourself to follow his example. Hearing of the mistaken action of another, advise yourself not to emulate it.
Even though alone in a dark room, be as if you were facing a noble guest. Express your feelings, but become no more expressive than your true nature.
Poverty is your treasure. Never exchange it for an easy life.
A person may appear a fool and yet not be one. He may only be guarding his wisdom carefully.
Virtues are the fruit of self-discipline and do not drop from heaven of themselves as does rain or snow.
Modesty is the foundation of all virtues. Let your neighbors discover you before you make yourself known to them.
A noble heart never forces itself forward. Its words are as rare gems, seldom displayed and of great value.
To a sincere student, every day is a fortunate day. Time passes but he never lags behind. Neither glory nor shame can move him.
Censure yourself, never another. Do not discuss right and wrong.
Some things, though right, were considered wrong for generations. Since the value of righteousness may be recognized after centuries, there is no need to crave immediate appreciation.
Live with cause and leave results to the great law of the universe. Pass each day in peaceful contemplation.
Zen 101
Soyen Shaku, the first Zen teacher to come to America, said: "My heart burns like fire but my eyes are as cold as dead ashes." He made the following rules which he practiced every day of his life.
* In the morning before dressing, light incense and meditate.
* Retire at a regular hour. Partake of food at regular intervals. Eat with moderation and never to the point of satisfaction.
* Receive a guest with the same attitude you have when alone. When alone, maintain the same attitude you have in receiving guests.
* Watch what you say, and whatever you say, practice it.
* When an opportunity comes do not let it pass you by, yet always think twice before acting.
* Do not regret the past. Look to the future.
* Have the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child.
* Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep. Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes.
* In the morning before dressing, light incense and meditate.
* Retire at a regular hour. Partake of food at regular intervals. Eat with moderation and never to the point of satisfaction.
* Receive a guest with the same attitude you have when alone. When alone, maintain the same attitude you have in receiving guests.
* Watch what you say, and whatever you say, practice it.
* When an opportunity comes do not let it pass you by, yet always think twice before acting.
* Do not regret the past. Look to the future.
* Have the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child.
* Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep. Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away a pair of old shoes.
Articles catch my eye when stumbling...
It's A Crisis
By Salamishah Tillet | TheRoot.com
April 10, 2008 -- Given the staggeringly high incidence of sexual violence in black communities it is fair to ask why this problem has not risen to the level of a crisis in the public consciousness
Perhaps one of the truest and most tragic lines in American film is spoken by the character Yellow Mary in Julie Dash's Daughters of the Dust(1991) when she sadly declares that "the rape of the colored woman is as common as fish in the sea." As a rape survivor, I speak on behalf of the 1 in 4 women who will experience sexual assault in her lifetime.
Moreover, since April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I hope to bring awareness to the fact that even though African-American women make up about 7% of the U.S. population, we currently constitute 18.8% to 28% of the reported sexual assault victims. These women are ,and have always been, our grandmothers,our daughters, our partners. And our friends.
Given the staggering statistics, I cannot help but wonder why this pandemic does not constitute a crisis within both African-American communities and the larger American body politic. African-American women have consistently spoken out against social ills such as the War in Iraq and racial injustices experienced by black men -- from lynching to police brutality to racial profiling.
And yet, they have had to confront their own experiences with race and gender-related sexual violence without the support of many African-American leaders. Today, most rapes are intra-racial. The vast majority of rape victims, almost ninety-percent, report that a member of their same racial or ethnic group sexually assaulted them.
Unfortunately, because many African-American female rape victims do not want to perpetuate racial stereotypes about the black male rapist (created and used by white mobs to justify the lynching of economically and politically mobile black men) and the black male criminal (now used to maintain racial disparities in the criminal justice system), they often do not press charges against their assailants because they fear further criminalizing African-American men.
Like most rape victims, many African-American women understand that public disbelief, sexual double standards, and sexist stereotypes such as the "gold-digger" will greet their accusations of rape. But even more egregiously, African-American women know that they risk being labeled a race traitor by some who view their actions as airing "dirty laundry."
And yet, there is a long tradition of African-American women speaking out about sexual violence, and mixing their anti-rape discourse with anti-racist activism. In 1866, a group of African-American women testified before Congress about white mobs who sexually assaulted them during the infamous Memphis race riots. Following suit, African-American activist and journalist Ida B. Wells-Barnett continually linked her anti-lynching crusade with her clarion call to end sexual violence.
Today, we can turn to African-American women novelists such as Alice Walker and Toni Morrison, entertainers such as Oprah Winfrey and Gabrielle Union, writers such as Charlotte Pierce-Baker's Surviving the Silence(2000) and Lori Robinson's I Will Survive (2003) to locate models of anti-rape activism.
We should look at filmmaker Aishah Shahidah Simmons's groundbreaking film NO! The Rape Documentary which details the history of African-American women and sexual violence and watch photographer Scheherazade Tillet's [Full disclosure: She's my sister] multimedia performance SOARS (Story of A Rape Survivor) which brilliantly uses the visual and performing arts to document the journey of recovering from and healing after rape.
In order to end the sexual violence experienced by African-American women, we need to recognize sexual abuse as one of the most important issues facing black America today. We need to encourage and include the voices of African-American women in mainstream activism against rape. And we need ensure that our demands for political and racial justice include calls for an end to sexism, sexual violence and homophobia. Until we begin supporting and believing African-American rape victims, we will always be engaged in a half-hearted fight for racial equality.
Salamishah Tillet is Assistant Professor of English at the University of Pennsylvania and co-founder of the non-profit organization, A Long Walk Home, Inc., which uses art therapy and the visual and performing arts to document and to end violence against underserved women and children.
By Salamishah Tillet | TheRoot.com
April 10, 2008 -- Given the staggeringly high incidence of sexual violence in black communities it is fair to ask why this problem has not risen to the level of a crisis in the public consciousness
Perhaps one of the truest and most tragic lines in American film is spoken by the character Yellow Mary in Julie Dash's Daughters of the Dust(1991) when she sadly declares that "the rape of the colored woman is as common as fish in the sea." As a rape survivor, I speak on behalf of the 1 in 4 women who will experience sexual assault in her lifetime.
Moreover, since April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I hope to bring awareness to the fact that even though African-American women make up about 7% of the U.S. population, we currently constitute 18.8% to 28% of the reported sexual assault victims. These women are ,and have always been, our grandmothers,our daughters, our partners. And our friends.
Given the staggering statistics, I cannot help but wonder why this pandemic does not constitute a crisis within both African-American communities and the larger American body politic. African-American women have consistently spoken out against social ills such as the War in Iraq and racial injustices experienced by black men -- from lynching to police brutality to racial profiling.
And yet, they have had to confront their own experiences with race and gender-related sexual violence without the support of many African-American leaders. Today, most rapes are intra-racial. The vast majority of rape victims, almost ninety-percent, report that a member of their same racial or ethnic group sexually assaulted them.
Unfortunately, because many African-American female rape victims do not want to perpetuate racial stereotypes about the black male rapist (created and used by white mobs to justify the lynching of economically and politically mobile black men) and the black male criminal (now used to maintain racial disparities in the criminal justice system), they often do not press charges against their assailants because they fear further criminalizing African-American men.
Like most rape victims, many African-American women understand that public disbelief, sexual double standards, and sexist stereotypes such as the "gold-digger" will greet their accusations of rape. But even more egregiously, African-American women know that they risk being labeled a race traitor by some who view their actions as airing "dirty laundry."
And yet, there is a long tradition of African-American women speaking out about sexual violence, and mixing their anti-rape discourse with anti-racist activism. In 1866, a group of African-American women testified before Congress about white mobs who sexually assaulted them during the infamous Memphis race riots. Following suit, African-American activist and journalist Ida B. Wells-Barnett continually linked her anti-lynching crusade with her clarion call to end sexual violence.
Today, we can turn to African-American women novelists such as Alice Walker and Toni Morrison, entertainers such as Oprah Winfrey and Gabrielle Union, writers such as Charlotte Pierce-Baker's Surviving the Silence(2000) and Lori Robinson's I Will Survive (2003) to locate models of anti-rape activism.
We should look at filmmaker Aishah Shahidah Simmons's groundbreaking film NO! The Rape Documentary which details the history of African-American women and sexual violence and watch photographer Scheherazade Tillet's [Full disclosure: She's my sister] multimedia performance SOARS (Story of A Rape Survivor) which brilliantly uses the visual and performing arts to document the journey of recovering from and healing after rape.
In order to end the sexual violence experienced by African-American women, we need to recognize sexual abuse as one of the most important issues facing black America today. We need to encourage and include the voices of African-American women in mainstream activism against rape. And we need ensure that our demands for political and racial justice include calls for an end to sexism, sexual violence and homophobia. Until we begin supporting and believing African-American rape victims, we will always be engaged in a half-hearted fight for racial equality.
Salamishah Tillet is Assistant Professor of English at the University of Pennsylvania and co-founder of the non-profit organization, A Long Walk Home, Inc., which uses art therapy and the visual and performing arts to document and to end violence against underserved women and children.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
So the letter in my dream said...
Here's to wishing I could wake up next to you. I'll be missing you while I'm gone, baby.
(a bunch of stuff I don't remember)
Nothing bewitches me more than your eyes at night. I've been meaning to tell you that I love you.
(Apparently in my dream, this was the first time the "L" word was mentioned, so it was a big deal.)
Tony, I know you're reading this - if you freak out, I'll kill you. lol. jk. But seriously, Katie's dad can help us get rid of your body.
tehehehe
Anyway, I just want you to remember that this is my imagination or my subconscious and I don't want you to take it too seriously - because I'm not. I know you don't love me. That doesn't bother me. lol.
(a bunch of stuff I don't remember)
Nothing bewitches me more than your eyes at night. I've been meaning to tell you that I love you.
(Apparently in my dream, this was the first time the "L" word was mentioned, so it was a big deal.)
Tony, I know you're reading this - if you freak out, I'll kill you. lol. jk. But seriously, Katie's dad can help us get rid of your body.
tehehehe
Anyway, I just want you to remember that this is my imagination or my subconscious and I don't want you to take it too seriously - because I'm not. I know you don't love me. That doesn't bother me. lol.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Phantom Treasure - Discover America
Why does your shape attract my eye?
Is it the chemistry of our young bodies prodding us in such hot pursuit of a lie?
We chase a quickly fading phantom.
Treasure baby!
If that is so, then one day it shall go.
Disappearing as a layer of week-old melting snow.
This human heart is never clear.
It's half filled up with wonder, and the other half with fear.
Is it the chemistry of our young bodies prodding us in such hot pursuit of a lie?
We chase a quickly fading phantom.
Treasure baby!
If that is so, then one day it shall go.
Disappearing as a layer of week-old melting snow.
This human heart is never clear.
It's half filled up with wonder, and the other half with fear.
Green Eyes - Discover America
You've got the biggest green eyes they've ever seen
And in that red dress
There's no contest
You're the prettiest one around
And you reach down in your purse to check your phone
And already there's five guys trying to light it
When they realize
That everybody wants to know your name
And they're just thinking of the perfect words to break the ice
But every time it's just in vain
Cause you're not impressed
But you're so polite
I know I'm not the sharpest knife you've ever seen
I don't have the clothes
I don't have the hair
I know whats going on and I'm self aware
And for some weird reason
That meens more to you
Than what any two bit scene kid could say to you
Cause everybody wants to know your name
And they're just thinking of the perfect words to break the ice
But every time it's just in vain
Cause you're not impressed
But you're so polite
And in that red dress
There's no contest
You're the prettiest one around
And you reach down in your purse to check your phone
And already there's five guys trying to light it
When they realize
That everybody wants to know your name
And they're just thinking of the perfect words to break the ice
But every time it's just in vain
Cause you're not impressed
But you're so polite
I know I'm not the sharpest knife you've ever seen
I don't have the clothes
I don't have the hair
I know whats going on and I'm self aware
And for some weird reason
That meens more to you
Than what any two bit scene kid could say to you
Cause everybody wants to know your name
And they're just thinking of the perfect words to break the ice
But every time it's just in vain
Cause you're not impressed
But you're so polite
I want...
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
I know that you are something special
To you I'd be always faithful
I want to be what you always needed
Then I hope you'll see the heart in me
[Chorus:]
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
You're the one I wanna chase
You're the one I wanna hold
I wont let another minute go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
Yeah
You might need time to think it over
But I'm just fine moving forward
I'll ease your mind
If you give me the chance
I will never make you cry c`mon let's try
[Chorus]
Am I crazy for wanting you?
Maybe do you think you could want me too?
I don't wanna waste your time
Do you see things the way I do?
I just wanna know that you feel it too
There is nothing left to hide
[Chorus]
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
You're the one I wanna chase
You're the one I wanna hold
I won't let another minute go to waste
I want you and your soul
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
Ooooooo
Beautiful Soul, yeah
Oooooo, yeah
Your beautiful soul
Yeah
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
I know that you are something special
To you I'd be always faithful
I want to be what you always needed
Then I hope you'll see the heart in me
[Chorus:]
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
You're the one I wanna chase
You're the one I wanna hold
I wont let another minute go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
Yeah
You might need time to think it over
But I'm just fine moving forward
I'll ease your mind
If you give me the chance
I will never make you cry c`mon let's try
[Chorus]
Am I crazy for wanting you?
Maybe do you think you could want me too?
I don't wanna waste your time
Do you see things the way I do?
I just wanna know that you feel it too
There is nothing left to hide
[Chorus]
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
You're the one I wanna chase
You're the one I wanna hold
I won't let another minute go to waste
I want you and your soul
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
Ooooooo
Beautiful Soul, yeah
Oooooo, yeah
Your beautiful soul
Yeah
Friday, June 6, 2008
I wanted to write today...
I wanted to write today before I took a shower, but an old friend from high school sent me a message online. We had fallen out of touch but I still love her dearly as a good friend (and a great person). She said she needed someone to talk to, some guidance for some MAJOR life decisions. She had been having a really hard time with her health (mental health) and school. Basically, her world that she planned was just crumbling before her eyes.
I don't know what it is that made her ask ME, but I am so humbled and glad that she did.
After having gone through the assault, the aftermath, the police, Student Services, the Health Center (and two shrinks), one prescription, changing my other meds to make my anti-depressants work, my grades, school, speech, my parents, etc...
It has toughened me.
This has all happened SINCE high school, so that's what surprises me. I understand if a current friend comes to me for advice - they've seen me at my worst AND at my best, and know that I've got a good head on my shoulders.
But she doesn't know any of that. She just remembered the friend she had back in high school that was able to listen when she needed it.
I told her to follow her heart, to really look inside herself before making these decisions. I explained a little about how I am very much in a similar boat, and what my plan is. I don't know if any of my words will matter to her, but her asking me for help and advice mattered to me. Very, very much.
It reminded me that friends are so very important and that having a real connection with someone is the most precious gift we get (after enlightenment, that is. But that one is way more elusive). It reminded me that I am strong, and there's something within me that other people see that I am unaware of. Idk what she saw in me when she wrote that message, but I'm flattered and humbled and grateful.
So, thank you, friend. You made a day of writing for my own pleasure into a day of gratitude, happiness, and friendship.
All my love to you and the best of luck.
I don't know what it is that made her ask ME, but I am so humbled and glad that she did.
After having gone through the assault, the aftermath, the police, Student Services, the Health Center (and two shrinks), one prescription, changing my other meds to make my anti-depressants work, my grades, school, speech, my parents, etc...
It has toughened me.
This has all happened SINCE high school, so that's what surprises me. I understand if a current friend comes to me for advice - they've seen me at my worst AND at my best, and know that I've got a good head on my shoulders.
But she doesn't know any of that. She just remembered the friend she had back in high school that was able to listen when she needed it.
I told her to follow her heart, to really look inside herself before making these decisions. I explained a little about how I am very much in a similar boat, and what my plan is. I don't know if any of my words will matter to her, but her asking me for help and advice mattered to me. Very, very much.
It reminded me that friends are so very important and that having a real connection with someone is the most precious gift we get (after enlightenment, that is. But that one is way more elusive). It reminded me that I am strong, and there's something within me that other people see that I am unaware of. Idk what she saw in me when she wrote that message, but I'm flattered and humbled and grateful.
So, thank you, friend. You made a day of writing for my own pleasure into a day of gratitude, happiness, and friendship.
All my love to you and the best of luck.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Caught my eye
Archive
I Am Learning To Abandon the World
by Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.
I Am Learning To Abandon the World
by Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
I'm not there yet!
Watch the sunrise
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road
Car overheats
Jump out of my seat
On the side of the highway baby
Our road is long
Your hold is strong
Please don't ever let go, oh no
Chorus:
I know, I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
But can they keep it
Oh no, they can't
I'm driving fast now
Don't think I know how to go slow
Where you at now
I feel around
There you are
Cool these engines
Calm these jets
I ask you how hot can it get
And as you wipe of beads of sweat
Slowly you say "I'm not there yet!"
Chorus 2X
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road
Car overheats
Jump out of my seat
On the side of the highway baby
Our road is long
Your hold is strong
Please don't ever let go, oh no
Chorus:
I know, I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
But can they keep it
Oh no, they can't
I'm driving fast now
Don't think I know how to go slow
Where you at now
I feel around
There you are
Cool these engines
Calm these jets
I ask you how hot can it get
And as you wipe of beads of sweat
Slowly you say "I'm not there yet!"
Chorus 2X
Some of my favorite lyrics...
You are the light that's leading me to the place where I find peace again...
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the life to my soul
You are my purpose
You're everything...
And how can I stand here with you
and not be moved by you?
And you tell me,
How could it be any better than this?
"Everything" - Lifehouse
I just want to love you
But you want to wear my ring
But there's nothing I can do
I've been looking for a girl like you.
You can call me a fool
I only want to be with you.
"I Only Want to Be With You" - Hootie and the Blowfish
U don't have 2 be beautiful
2 turn me on
I just need your body baby
From dusk till dawn
U don't need experience
2 turn me out
U just leave it all up 2 me
I'm gonna show u what it's all about
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
U got to not talk dirty, baby
If u wanna impress me
U can't be 2 flirty, mama
I know how 2 undress me (Yeah)
I want 2 be your fantasy
Maybe u could be mine
U just leave it all up to me
We could have a good time
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
Yes
I think I wanna dance
Gotta, Gotta
Little girl Wendy's parade
Gotta, gotta, gotta
Women not girls rule my world
I said they rule my world
Act your age, mama (Not your shoe size)
Not your shoe size
Maybe we could do the twirl
U don't have 2 watch Dynasty
2 have an attitude
U just leave it all up 2 me
My love will be your food
Yeah
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
"Kiss" - Prince
You are the strength that keeps me walking
You are the hope that keeps me trusting
You are the life to my soul
You are my purpose
You're everything...
And how can I stand here with you
and not be moved by you?
And you tell me,
How could it be any better than this?
"Everything" - Lifehouse
I just want to love you
But you want to wear my ring
But there's nothing I can do
I've been looking for a girl like you.
You can call me a fool
I only want to be with you.
"I Only Want to Be With You" - Hootie and the Blowfish
U don't have 2 be beautiful
2 turn me on
I just need your body baby
From dusk till dawn
U don't need experience
2 turn me out
U just leave it all up 2 me
I'm gonna show u what it's all about
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
U got to not talk dirty, baby
If u wanna impress me
U can't be 2 flirty, mama
I know how 2 undress me (Yeah)
I want 2 be your fantasy
Maybe u could be mine
U just leave it all up to me
We could have a good time
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
Yes
I think I wanna dance
Gotta, Gotta
Little girl Wendy's parade
Gotta, gotta, gotta
Women not girls rule my world
I said they rule my world
Act your age, mama (Not your shoe size)
Not your shoe size
Maybe we could do the twirl
U don't have 2 watch Dynasty
2 have an attitude
U just leave it all up 2 me
My love will be your food
Yeah
U don't have 2 be rich
2 be my girl
U don't have 2 be cool
2 rule my world
Ain't no particular sign I'm more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your
Kiss
"Kiss" - Prince
Thursday, May 29, 2008
hmm...
So being in this apartment
with no one to answer to
is fantastic.
But it's also hard in its own way.
Since I have little to fill my time, I sit and think of what I need to do to improve myself.
I don't want to be the girl sitting by the phone, waiting. I have never wanted to be that girl. And I won't. I will go where my heart leads me - if that is to another country, even.
I will myself to be strong. If you'd like to be with me, that's just something about me you must understand. If I push you away, it is not because I don't care about you. It's because of my own inadequacies, my own fear of dependence, of connection. It's my fear of giving up myself that makes me keep up barriers.
Walls meant to hold myself together, but walls that (unfortunately) keep others out.
I'm sorry in advance for any pain I may cause.
And let the story be written...
with no one to answer to
is fantastic.
But it's also hard in its own way.
Since I have little to fill my time, I sit and think of what I need to do to improve myself.
I don't want to be the girl sitting by the phone, waiting. I have never wanted to be that girl. And I won't. I will go where my heart leads me - if that is to another country, even.
I will myself to be strong. If you'd like to be with me, that's just something about me you must understand. If I push you away, it is not because I don't care about you. It's because of my own inadequacies, my own fear of dependence, of connection. It's my fear of giving up myself that makes me keep up barriers.
Walls meant to hold myself together, but walls that (unfortunately) keep others out.
I'm sorry in advance for any pain I may cause.
And let the story be written...
I listened to your song, darling.
The sunlight dances on the lids of my eyes
as I close them
the music turns inside my head
like you
dancing
in the shade
oh you
twirling in the haze
oh you
toying with grace
these thoughts of you surround me
but you escape me anyway
thoughts of you in everything
i am
i see you
in the leaves
the trees
thoughts of you haunt me
oh
thoughts of you in everything i do
water reaches down
into the deep dark dirt of
who we are
seeping slowly past the sounds
coming from your lips
i've never tasted such a kiss
oh
i've never tasted
your kiss
(don't let go no never let go)
(you're in the haze and with your grace you haunt my smile, you take my place, i'm in a haze)
as I close them
the music turns inside my head
like you
dancing
in the shade
oh you
twirling in the haze
oh you
toying with grace
these thoughts of you surround me
but you escape me anyway
thoughts of you in everything
i am
i see you
in the leaves
the trees
thoughts of you haunt me
oh
thoughts of you in everything i do
water reaches down
into the deep dark dirt of
who we are
seeping slowly past the sounds
coming from your lips
i've never tasted such a kiss
oh
i've never tasted
your kiss
(don't let go no never let go)
(you're in the haze and with your grace you haunt my smile, you take my place, i'm in a haze)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Re: 5-28
When words
slip from my lips like songs
slip from you fingertips
like rain slips from the window ledge
and down onto a beautiful stranger
I will consider myself
moderately talented.
Until then,
my darling,
you are the true talent
my muse
my inspiration for so many of these words.
Keep that music coming,
into my mind,
into my heart,
to become etched into my memory
and my lips.
slip from my lips like songs
slip from you fingertips
like rain slips from the window ledge
and down onto a beautiful stranger
I will consider myself
moderately talented.
Until then,
my darling,
you are the true talent
my muse
my inspiration for so many of these words.
Keep that music coming,
into my mind,
into my heart,
to become etched into my memory
and my lips.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Sleepless
the only thing that lights my nights
is the screen from my computer
where once and one day there will be
sparks flying from my eyes to your mouth
from your fingertips to my hip
from my lips to your neck
sparks were flying
and so were we
and it has been before
and so it will be.
I wanted to tell you,
I am capable of loving again.
I just figured that out.
And I want to try to do that with you.
Your hands coax from me
a willingness that surprises even me
to take and be taken
to ravish and to pillage
the body that separates the real you
from the real me.
And I can love you with my whole heart
but unless you let me love
your whole body with my whole being,
I can't agree to this love.
Before this love even exists,
I'm making you a deal you should not ignore...
Love and sex go hand in hand for me,
and you will worship my body
just as I worship the way yours works.
The way my body sighs and moans
in leaning on you
in leaning into you
I feel the wall behind my shoulder blades
and I feel you
in front of me
pressed against me like you have never really been far from my skin to begin with.
I want to read your life story
off the pores of your skin,
to see what you have written about me there.
I want to taste the sweat that beads on your forehead
when you worry about insignificant things,
like the fighting back home.
I want to take this song you have written for me
between my teeth and test it
and see how much it will really hold strong through?
And will we hold strong through as much?
I want to make vows through my lips to your shoulder as you
move inside me,
while I break promises over your back
like waves crashing on rocks.
We are obviously two parts
of the same setting, the same environment.
You already speak the language of
my deep dark cunt and
the sticky sweetness you can find inside me.
You already speak the language of tongues
lap-lap-lapping at my eyes
at my ears
at my thighs.
You can see laughlines on my face
that don't even exist yet,
telling you what you already know -
I'm yours for the rest of this, I'm in.
If you will stay in me,
in my mind all day,
side-stepping my shadow
with one touch,
one brush of your lips over my eager nipples...
I am in this for you.
is the screen from my computer
where once and one day there will be
sparks flying from my eyes to your mouth
from your fingertips to my hip
from my lips to your neck
sparks were flying
and so were we
and it has been before
and so it will be.
I wanted to tell you,
I am capable of loving again.
I just figured that out.
And I want to try to do that with you.
Your hands coax from me
a willingness that surprises even me
to take and be taken
to ravish and to pillage
the body that separates the real you
from the real me.
And I can love you with my whole heart
but unless you let me love
your whole body with my whole being,
I can't agree to this love.
Before this love even exists,
I'm making you a deal you should not ignore...
Love and sex go hand in hand for me,
and you will worship my body
just as I worship the way yours works.
The way my body sighs and moans
in leaning on you
in leaning into you
I feel the wall behind my shoulder blades
and I feel you
in front of me
pressed against me like you have never really been far from my skin to begin with.
I want to read your life story
off the pores of your skin,
to see what you have written about me there.
I want to taste the sweat that beads on your forehead
when you worry about insignificant things,
like the fighting back home.
I want to take this song you have written for me
between my teeth and test it
and see how much it will really hold strong through?
And will we hold strong through as much?
I want to make vows through my lips to your shoulder as you
move inside me,
while I break promises over your back
like waves crashing on rocks.
We are obviously two parts
of the same setting, the same environment.
You already speak the language of
my deep dark cunt and
the sticky sweetness you can find inside me.
You already speak the language of tongues
lap-lap-lapping at my eyes
at my ears
at my thighs.
You can see laughlines on my face
that don't even exist yet,
telling you what you already know -
I'm yours for the rest of this, I'm in.
If you will stay in me,
in my mind all day,
side-stepping my shadow
with one touch,
one brush of your lips over my eager nipples...
I am in this for you.
The Latest for T.
Im trying to deny
the truth of my dreams
the dreams which say
I miss you when you are far from my side
the dreams which remind me
how well I fit in your arms
in your bed
in your life.
I'm trying to tell my mind
that won't unwind from the fact
that you don't love me
and you never will.
my dreams that tell me
the thought of you
taking me aside and playing
songs for me and
speaking words to me
and kissing my eyes as I cry
is merely a thought
and nothing else.
But isn't that the thing about reality?
If I can imagine it, it could be possible.
So I will spend another night
trying to refute the truth in my dreams
and you make your way home to me.
the truth of my dreams
the dreams which say
I miss you when you are far from my side
the dreams which remind me
how well I fit in your arms
in your bed
in your life.
I'm trying to tell my mind
that won't unwind from the fact
that you don't love me
and you never will.
my dreams that tell me
the thought of you
taking me aside and playing
songs for me and
speaking words to me
and kissing my eyes as I cry
is merely a thought
and nothing else.
But isn't that the thing about reality?
If I can imagine it, it could be possible.
So I will spend another night
trying to refute the truth in my dreams
and you make your way home to me.
Sonnets by Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun,
Coral is far more red, than her lips red,
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun:
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head:
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight,
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet by heaven I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.
Coral is far more red, than her lips red,
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun:
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head:
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks,
And in some perfumes is there more delight,
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know,
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go,
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet by heaven I think my love as rare,
As any she belied with false compare.
You fucking little whore!
My love for you allows me to pray to the spirit of eternal beauty and tenderness mirrored in your eyes or fling you down under me on that softy belly of yours and fuck you up behind, like a hog riding a sow, glorying in the very stink and sweat that rises from your arse, glorying in the open shape of your upturned dress and white girlish drawers and in the confusion of your flushed cheeks and tangled hair. It allows me to burst into tears of pity and love at some slight word, to tremble with love for you at the sounding of some chord or cadence of music or to lie heads and tails with you feeling your fingers fondling and tickling my ballocks or stuck up in me behind and your hot lips sucking off my cock while my head is wedged in between your fat thighs, my hands clutching the round cushions of your bum and my tongue licking ravenously up your rank red cunt. I have taught you almost to swoon at the hearing of my voice singing or murmuring to your soul the passion and sorrow and mystery of life and at the same time have taught you to make filthy signs to me with your lips and tongue, to provoke me by obscene touches and noises, and even to do in my presence the most shameful and filthy act of the body. You remember the day you pulled up your clothes and let me lie under you looking up at you while you did it? Then you were ashamed even to meet my eyes.
You are mine, darling, mine! I love you. All I have written above is only a moment or two of brutal madness. The last drop of seed has hardly been squirted up your cunt before it is over and my true love for you, the love of my verses, the love of my eyes for your strange luring eyes, comes blowing over my soul like a wind of spices. My prick is still hot and stiff and quivering from the last brutal drive it has given you when a faint hymn is heard rising in tender pitiful worship of you from the dim cloisters of my heart.
Nora, my faithful darling, my seet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.
You are mine, darling, mine! I love you. All I have written above is only a moment or two of brutal madness. The last drop of seed has hardly been squirted up your cunt before it is over and my true love for you, the love of my verses, the love of my eyes for your strange luring eyes, comes blowing over my soul like a wind of spices. My prick is still hot and stiff and quivering from the last brutal drive it has given you when a faint hymn is heard rising in tender pitiful worship of you from the dim cloisters of my heart.
Nora, my faithful darling, my seet-eyed blackguard schoolgirl, be my whore, my mistress, as much as you like (my little frigging mistress! My little fucking whore!) you are always my beautiful wild flower of the hedges, my dark-blue rain-drenched flower.
ADS, I want to kiss you. Please read this.
Bookstore
There is a friendly bookstore downtown that has the best collection of literature in the city. That, along with its patio café conveniently situated on the sidewalk, makes it my favorite.
A certain event I witnessed there, though, has also made it quite close to my heart.
I am forty-three years old with a wife of fifteen years and a young son—not someone whom most would see as particularly quixotic. Despite this fact, which I would assume to be generally known and agreed upon, I found my faith in the power of romance rekindled on an otherwise unassuming day at an otherwise innocuous bookstore café.
It was almost March, but it had been miserably cold for weeks. On this particular Saturday, however, it was above fifty degrees. That weather, which would normally be considered mild at best, might has well have been seventy for the city’s winter-battered residents. Despite the unusual and welcomed warmth, though, the patio wasn’t at all crowded.
The morning had been spent with Joshua, my six-year-old son, at the park near the store. He had wanted to come to the store, though, to see his godmother, who is the store’s manager. I had obliged with little to no arm-twisting required, because there was a new psychology book that had been on my to-buy list for weeks.
Joshua had been invited into the back storeroom to help unpack newly arrived books, a task in which he found immense enjoyment. Caroline, his godmother, was always delighted to allow him to count off the number of copies. Counting to one hundred was a skill he had acquired earlier than most children, and it was an ability he showed off early and often.
Safe in my knowledge that my son would be well taken care of, I bought the book and took it out to one of the patio chairs. My chair was facing the only padded seat on the patio, usually reserved for parents reading to their children.
On that afternoon, though, the store was empty of parents and children, Joshua and myself excluded, and the chair had been occupied by a teenage girl who was taking advantage of the pleasant weather. She had thrown herself across the chair’s arms, lounging comfortably, so I had to assume that she’d been there many times before. After a moment of observation, I realized that she was something of a regular. In fact, just the previous weekend, she had helped Joshua to find me when he’d gotten lost in the science fiction section. I recalled the curious inquisitiveness and brightness in her blue eyes.
As far as I could tell, she was fairly slender and reasonably tall. Her dark blonde hair, which was almost the same shade as my wife’s when I first met her, had been pulled into two braids. The girl’s clothing was simple and modest, albeit slightly tomboyish: black jeans that looked like they belonged to a teenage boy, a bright blue long-sleeved shirt, and the sort of beat-up black Chuck Taylor sneakers I had worn on my high school basketball team back in the day. Her foot was swinging in rhythm with the upbeat jazz playing on the café’s speakers. She was mouthing along with the words silently, obviously well-acquainted with the selection.
I took a moment to be appreciative of her literary choice—it isn’t every day one sees teenagers reading Pablo Neruda’s poetry—before refocusing my attention on my own book.
After about fifteen minutes, a rather exasperating buzzing sound erupted from somewhere in my vicinity. Its cause wasn’t difficult to pinpoint—the girl had jumped in her seat quite without warning, immediately plunging her hand into the pocket of the somewhat baggy jeans and pulling out a cell phone.
“Hello?” she answered quietly, of which I was appreciative. The café’s patio might not have been at all crowded, but it’s only common courtesy to lower one’s voice in a place with a certain number of books nearby. After a few moments, she repeated her greeting disinterestedly, drawing the word out as one is prone to do upon receiving silence on the other end. “…Hell-oo?”
From my right came the sound of a shoe scuffing against concrete; the girl ignored it, but I sought out the source of the noise. Standing half-concealed by behind a nearby column was a teenage boy who was looking directly at the teenage girl with a strange expression on his face.
Him I recognized immediately; he had short brown hair and surprisingly light green eyes that reminded me very strongly of myself in high school—I wondered if he was of Slavic descent like I am—but I had to admit that this young man was more handsome than I ever was. He was taller than I had been as well; I was putting him somewhere around six-foot. The boy was always hanging around the store as well.
The strangely bright-colored eyes met mine when I cast him a faintly disapproving gaze. He mouthed an apology, but he didn’t say it aloud because he was on the phone. Instantly, I had my suspicions. It was a simple equation: a teenage girl receiving a call where the caller said nothing and a teenage boy twenty feet from the girl not saying anything into his own cell phone.
After a few moments, in which I could tell from the exasperated tilt of her head that the girl was planning on hanging up, the boy said, “I see you…right now.” He had lowered his voice, which I had heard before to be a warm tenor, into a menacing, gravelly growl.
Slightly taken aback, I glanced at the girl without lifting my head. She was unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. You’ve attempted this before; I’m not going to make myself look like an idiot by craning around in search of my moron of a best friend who says he’s within eyeshot when I know he’s in Washington.” She had a wry drawl, accentuated with a roll of her eyes. Despite the dry sarcasm in her voice, though, her demeanor had brightened considerably.
Obviously, the two knew each other quite well.
The boy didn’t reply; he flipped his phone shut and commenced to creep forward. I had an idea of what he was going to do when he began to sneak around to the back of the patio. I heaved a sigh, preparing myself for a spectacular display in a few moments’ time.
As I had guessed, the boy had managed to remain undetected by the girl, who had been unmoved by the sudden hang-up and had returned to her poetry. He silently tiptoed behind her, bending down slowly until his mouth was right next to her ear. For a long moment, he stayed in that close position as if waiting for her to notice him; then he sprung the trap. From ten feet away, I heard his declaration of, “I told you so!” which he let out without warning beside her ear.
Predictably, the girl let out a yelp, which she managed to muffle by clapping her hands over her mouth, and shot out of her seat. The boy was laughing hard by the time she turned around, her hands still pressed against her mouth as her chest heaved. Her eyes widened in shock, and she threw her arms around his neck in an ebullient hug; he looked momentarily stunned. She pulled back, smiling somewhat wryly, a faint blush tinting her pale cheeks. Then she smacked him on the arm.
“You suck.” Her statement, which had accompanied the reproving whack, didn’t seem to serve to make him feel particularly guilty. He continued laughing, seeming delighted in his stunt.
“You really suck,” she muttered with more emphasis, twisting her mouth. She was trying not to laugh at herself, which wouldn’t have been a problem had it been me who’d been alarmed in public. I would have been mad; she just seemed slightly embarrassed and very amused at her own jitteriness.
The girl let the boy keep laughing for a few more moments before clearing her throat. “So what are you doing here? Besides stalking me,” she asked, fiddling with the poetry book, which she had picked up from the floor. The girl seemed considerably apologetic toward the slim volume for having dropped it on the ground in the midst of her shock at being snuck up on.
“Well, I went to your house first,” the boy replied simply, leaning forward to pluck the Neruda collection out of her hand, frowning suspiciously at its cover.
She didn’t bother to protest his stealing of her entertainment; her eyebrows pulled together slightly into a frown before she raised the right one into a slight arch. “Why?”
“Because you live there,” he muttered distractedly as he looked over a random page’s poem with a level of skepticism. “What the hell is this?”
“Captain Obvious called, he wants his cape back. Of course I live there—I should hope that you know that by now. And can’t you tell? It’s Pablo Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets,” she replied easily, undeterred by his disjointed conversational jumps.
He returned the book to her hands, shrugging one shoulder. “Poetry…seems a little dubious.”
“Maybe I feel that being a sappy, starry-eyed romantic wouldn’t be so bad for once, eh?” The girl was grinning brightly, but the boy seemed incredulous. Just then, the girl seemed to realize that the boy had yet to answer her question. Waving her hands exasperatedly as if shooing a bug, she exclaimed, “Hey! That’s way off point! What are you doing here? As in…in-state?”
I got the impression he had been waiting for her to ask that. “I’m home early, dear,” he stated slowly, as if to a small child, patting her on the head.
The girl swatted his hand away, narrowing her eyes. “The pre-discussed superhero is becoming exasperated with your use of his power to point out the painfully apparent. Why are you here?” She was getting more curious with every passing second, which I could plainly see.
The boy seemed to enjoy her bewilderment. However, when she tilted her head to the side and looked up the several inches that made up their height difference into his eyes, his resolve crumbled in a manner blatantly obvious to me, an innocent bystander. “There was an earlier flight, and I managed to get transferred. I just wanted to…get home,” he answered, sighing.
“But you were visiting family! And then you were going to come home and go to…wherever you were going to go…with Julie,” the girl replied insistently.
“Julie and I broke up. Well, I broke up with Julie,” he amended, shrugging awkwardly. I raised my eyebrows; the girl didn’t get it, but the boy was clearly trying to tell her something.
“How come?” she pressed in a small, incredulous whisper. Her voice was buoyant, but it was suppressed in its optimism.
A small smile curved my lips when he took an almost imperceptibly small step closer to her. “Because,” he replied quietly, sliding his hands into the oversized pockets of the large brown winter jacket he was wearing.
Either she didn’t notice his step forward or she pretended not to. “Because why?”
“Because…of…you.” He drew out each word, looking down diffidently as he spoke but lifting his celery-toned eyes up to meet her blue ones when he finished.
From where I was sitting, it was clear that her intake of breath was shaky. However, she wasn’t letting him off so easily. “Why me? I know that she doesn’t like me, but that doesn’t—”
“You’re my best friend…” I almost groaned when he trailed off after interrupting her persistent assertion; he kept losing his nerve.
She picked up his sentence as if it hadn’t discontinued it. “She’s your girlfriend, and her dislike of me doesn’t mean that you have to break up with her.”
“No,” the boy said firmly, leaning down slightly. “No, see, she knew that I wouldn’t choose her over you—I mean, she got that from the beginning. I broke up with her because of you.” He raised his eyebrows, as if willing her to understand his meaning would make it happen.
The girl’s mouth opened slightly, but then she shut it, frowning. I took a sip of coffee to hide my smile. Eventually, she managed to whisper, “Why?” The smothered hopefulness was back.
“Because…” I had thought he was chickening out once more, but then the boy stepped much more visibly closer to the girl, bending his head over hers slightly. “Because you’re the one I couldn’t keep out of my head the whole two weeks I was gone. You…you make me laugh. You don’t get mad when I offend you, and you usually insult me right back. You play video games with me. You never giggle. You have these…these eyes that just see everything. You’re terrible at keeping a straight face. You're jumpier than even the most skittish deer. And…and you’re the only girl who never tried to be with me…because you never had to try.”
By the time he finished, I was grinning broadly behind the paper cup, and the girl, whose eyes were glassy and bright, looked like she had just been given a basket of puppies.
A smidgeon of her resolve, which even I had been able to see was rather fervent, showed itself in a stubborn pressing of her lips. “But I thought—”
The boy looked skyward for a moment, laughing somewhat resignedly, before cutting her off mid-sentence with the kind of kiss that I thought only existed in films from the forties. A large gust of wind blew up with impeccable timing, and without much of a second thought apparent, the boy pulled the girl closer and wrapped her into his jacket.
When he finally pulled away from her, his hands were on her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones as if she were the most precious discovery in the world. Her face lit up radiantly in a disarmingly beaming smile.
“You suck,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her possessively.
He couldn’t see the way she bit her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal the insanely wide smile that danced on her face.
She didn’t see the look of disbelieving, pure tenderness that softened his handsome face when she tucked her face into his broad shoulder.
I did.
It restored my faith in even the most against-the-odds romances that there are.
There is a friendly bookstore downtown that has the best collection of literature in the city. That, along with its patio café conveniently situated on the sidewalk, makes it my favorite.
A certain event I witnessed there, though, has also made it quite close to my heart.
I am forty-three years old with a wife of fifteen years and a young son—not someone whom most would see as particularly quixotic. Despite this fact, which I would assume to be generally known and agreed upon, I found my faith in the power of romance rekindled on an otherwise unassuming day at an otherwise innocuous bookstore café.
It was almost March, but it had been miserably cold for weeks. On this particular Saturday, however, it was above fifty degrees. That weather, which would normally be considered mild at best, might has well have been seventy for the city’s winter-battered residents. Despite the unusual and welcomed warmth, though, the patio wasn’t at all crowded.
The morning had been spent with Joshua, my six-year-old son, at the park near the store. He had wanted to come to the store, though, to see his godmother, who is the store’s manager. I had obliged with little to no arm-twisting required, because there was a new psychology book that had been on my to-buy list for weeks.
Joshua had been invited into the back storeroom to help unpack newly arrived books, a task in which he found immense enjoyment. Caroline, his godmother, was always delighted to allow him to count off the number of copies. Counting to one hundred was a skill he had acquired earlier than most children, and it was an ability he showed off early and often.
Safe in my knowledge that my son would be well taken care of, I bought the book and took it out to one of the patio chairs. My chair was facing the only padded seat on the patio, usually reserved for parents reading to their children.
On that afternoon, though, the store was empty of parents and children, Joshua and myself excluded, and the chair had been occupied by a teenage girl who was taking advantage of the pleasant weather. She had thrown herself across the chair’s arms, lounging comfortably, so I had to assume that she’d been there many times before. After a moment of observation, I realized that she was something of a regular. In fact, just the previous weekend, she had helped Joshua to find me when he’d gotten lost in the science fiction section. I recalled the curious inquisitiveness and brightness in her blue eyes.
As far as I could tell, she was fairly slender and reasonably tall. Her dark blonde hair, which was almost the same shade as my wife’s when I first met her, had been pulled into two braids. The girl’s clothing was simple and modest, albeit slightly tomboyish: black jeans that looked like they belonged to a teenage boy, a bright blue long-sleeved shirt, and the sort of beat-up black Chuck Taylor sneakers I had worn on my high school basketball team back in the day. Her foot was swinging in rhythm with the upbeat jazz playing on the café’s speakers. She was mouthing along with the words silently, obviously well-acquainted with the selection.
I took a moment to be appreciative of her literary choice—it isn’t every day one sees teenagers reading Pablo Neruda’s poetry—before refocusing my attention on my own book.
After about fifteen minutes, a rather exasperating buzzing sound erupted from somewhere in my vicinity. Its cause wasn’t difficult to pinpoint—the girl had jumped in her seat quite without warning, immediately plunging her hand into the pocket of the somewhat baggy jeans and pulling out a cell phone.
“Hello?” she answered quietly, of which I was appreciative. The café’s patio might not have been at all crowded, but it’s only common courtesy to lower one’s voice in a place with a certain number of books nearby. After a few moments, she repeated her greeting disinterestedly, drawing the word out as one is prone to do upon receiving silence on the other end. “…Hell-oo?”
From my right came the sound of a shoe scuffing against concrete; the girl ignored it, but I sought out the source of the noise. Standing half-concealed by behind a nearby column was a teenage boy who was looking directly at the teenage girl with a strange expression on his face.
Him I recognized immediately; he had short brown hair and surprisingly light green eyes that reminded me very strongly of myself in high school—I wondered if he was of Slavic descent like I am—but I had to admit that this young man was more handsome than I ever was. He was taller than I had been as well; I was putting him somewhere around six-foot. The boy was always hanging around the store as well.
The strangely bright-colored eyes met mine when I cast him a faintly disapproving gaze. He mouthed an apology, but he didn’t say it aloud because he was on the phone. Instantly, I had my suspicions. It was a simple equation: a teenage girl receiving a call where the caller said nothing and a teenage boy twenty feet from the girl not saying anything into his own cell phone.
After a few moments, in which I could tell from the exasperated tilt of her head that the girl was planning on hanging up, the boy said, “I see you…right now.” He had lowered his voice, which I had heard before to be a warm tenor, into a menacing, gravelly growl.
Slightly taken aback, I glanced at the girl without lifting my head. She was unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. You’ve attempted this before; I’m not going to make myself look like an idiot by craning around in search of my moron of a best friend who says he’s within eyeshot when I know he’s in Washington.” She had a wry drawl, accentuated with a roll of her eyes. Despite the dry sarcasm in her voice, though, her demeanor had brightened considerably.
Obviously, the two knew each other quite well.
The boy didn’t reply; he flipped his phone shut and commenced to creep forward. I had an idea of what he was going to do when he began to sneak around to the back of the patio. I heaved a sigh, preparing myself for a spectacular display in a few moments’ time.
As I had guessed, the boy had managed to remain undetected by the girl, who had been unmoved by the sudden hang-up and had returned to her poetry. He silently tiptoed behind her, bending down slowly until his mouth was right next to her ear. For a long moment, he stayed in that close position as if waiting for her to notice him; then he sprung the trap. From ten feet away, I heard his declaration of, “I told you so!” which he let out without warning beside her ear.
Predictably, the girl let out a yelp, which she managed to muffle by clapping her hands over her mouth, and shot out of her seat. The boy was laughing hard by the time she turned around, her hands still pressed against her mouth as her chest heaved. Her eyes widened in shock, and she threw her arms around his neck in an ebullient hug; he looked momentarily stunned. She pulled back, smiling somewhat wryly, a faint blush tinting her pale cheeks. Then she smacked him on the arm.
“You suck.” Her statement, which had accompanied the reproving whack, didn’t seem to serve to make him feel particularly guilty. He continued laughing, seeming delighted in his stunt.
“You really suck,” she muttered with more emphasis, twisting her mouth. She was trying not to laugh at herself, which wouldn’t have been a problem had it been me who’d been alarmed in public. I would have been mad; she just seemed slightly embarrassed and very amused at her own jitteriness.
The girl let the boy keep laughing for a few more moments before clearing her throat. “So what are you doing here? Besides stalking me,” she asked, fiddling with the poetry book, which she had picked up from the floor. The girl seemed considerably apologetic toward the slim volume for having dropped it on the ground in the midst of her shock at being snuck up on.
“Well, I went to your house first,” the boy replied simply, leaning forward to pluck the Neruda collection out of her hand, frowning suspiciously at its cover.
She didn’t bother to protest his stealing of her entertainment; her eyebrows pulled together slightly into a frown before she raised the right one into a slight arch. “Why?”
“Because you live there,” he muttered distractedly as he looked over a random page’s poem with a level of skepticism. “What the hell is this?”
“Captain Obvious called, he wants his cape back. Of course I live there—I should hope that you know that by now. And can’t you tell? It’s Pablo Neruda’s 100 Love Sonnets,” she replied easily, undeterred by his disjointed conversational jumps.
He returned the book to her hands, shrugging one shoulder. “Poetry…seems a little dubious.”
“Maybe I feel that being a sappy, starry-eyed romantic wouldn’t be so bad for once, eh?” The girl was grinning brightly, but the boy seemed incredulous. Just then, the girl seemed to realize that the boy had yet to answer her question. Waving her hands exasperatedly as if shooing a bug, she exclaimed, “Hey! That’s way off point! What are you doing here? As in…in-state?”
I got the impression he had been waiting for her to ask that. “I’m home early, dear,” he stated slowly, as if to a small child, patting her on the head.
The girl swatted his hand away, narrowing her eyes. “The pre-discussed superhero is becoming exasperated with your use of his power to point out the painfully apparent. Why are you here?” She was getting more curious with every passing second, which I could plainly see.
The boy seemed to enjoy her bewilderment. However, when she tilted her head to the side and looked up the several inches that made up their height difference into his eyes, his resolve crumbled in a manner blatantly obvious to me, an innocent bystander. “There was an earlier flight, and I managed to get transferred. I just wanted to…get home,” he answered, sighing.
“But you were visiting family! And then you were going to come home and go to…wherever you were going to go…with Julie,” the girl replied insistently.
“Julie and I broke up. Well, I broke up with Julie,” he amended, shrugging awkwardly. I raised my eyebrows; the girl didn’t get it, but the boy was clearly trying to tell her something.
“How come?” she pressed in a small, incredulous whisper. Her voice was buoyant, but it was suppressed in its optimism.
A small smile curved my lips when he took an almost imperceptibly small step closer to her. “Because,” he replied quietly, sliding his hands into the oversized pockets of the large brown winter jacket he was wearing.
Either she didn’t notice his step forward or she pretended not to. “Because why?”
“Because…of…you.” He drew out each word, looking down diffidently as he spoke but lifting his celery-toned eyes up to meet her blue ones when he finished.
From where I was sitting, it was clear that her intake of breath was shaky. However, she wasn’t letting him off so easily. “Why me? I know that she doesn’t like me, but that doesn’t—”
“You’re my best friend…” I almost groaned when he trailed off after interrupting her persistent assertion; he kept losing his nerve.
She picked up his sentence as if it hadn’t discontinued it. “She’s your girlfriend, and her dislike of me doesn’t mean that you have to break up with her.”
“No,” the boy said firmly, leaning down slightly. “No, see, she knew that I wouldn’t choose her over you—I mean, she got that from the beginning. I broke up with her because of you.” He raised his eyebrows, as if willing her to understand his meaning would make it happen.
The girl’s mouth opened slightly, but then she shut it, frowning. I took a sip of coffee to hide my smile. Eventually, she managed to whisper, “Why?” The smothered hopefulness was back.
“Because…” I had thought he was chickening out once more, but then the boy stepped much more visibly closer to the girl, bending his head over hers slightly. “Because you’re the one I couldn’t keep out of my head the whole two weeks I was gone. You…you make me laugh. You don’t get mad when I offend you, and you usually insult me right back. You play video games with me. You never giggle. You have these…these eyes that just see everything. You’re terrible at keeping a straight face. You're jumpier than even the most skittish deer. And…and you’re the only girl who never tried to be with me…because you never had to try.”
By the time he finished, I was grinning broadly behind the paper cup, and the girl, whose eyes were glassy and bright, looked like she had just been given a basket of puppies.
A smidgeon of her resolve, which even I had been able to see was rather fervent, showed itself in a stubborn pressing of her lips. “But I thought—”
The boy looked skyward for a moment, laughing somewhat resignedly, before cutting her off mid-sentence with the kind of kiss that I thought only existed in films from the forties. A large gust of wind blew up with impeccable timing, and without much of a second thought apparent, the boy pulled the girl closer and wrapped her into his jacket.
When he finally pulled away from her, his hands were on her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones as if she were the most precious discovery in the world. Her face lit up radiantly in a disarmingly beaming smile.
“You suck,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her possessively.
He couldn’t see the way she bit her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to conceal the insanely wide smile that danced on her face.
She didn’t see the look of disbelieving, pure tenderness that softened his handsome face when she tucked her face into his broad shoulder.
I did.
It restored my faith in even the most against-the-odds romances that there are.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,
risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.
-Pablo Neruda
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,
risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where "I" does not exist, nor "you,"
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.
-Pablo Neruda
Thursday, May 8, 2008
This thing in my chest
this thing in my chest beats
and heats the cold ache
in my throat.
the one that swells
when you enter a room,
when you cuddle me,
when you ruffle my hair playfully
because i remember
(and ive tried to forget)
the time you ruffled my hair
and then kissed me.
you put your lips to mine
and said
i don't know
and i never will
but take this as a salve
and let yourself heal.
and i have.
now i just don't know
how to let go of the cuddles
and the kisses
so in order to maintain sanity
i will let this thing in my chest
try to swell and choke me
but i'll put a smile on my face the whole time.
healing has let me see
that when you kiss me
your lips don't tell that
your love is true.
this thing in my chest
has forced itself
where a heart should be
a heart that deserves to fly.
and heats the cold ache
in my throat.
the one that swells
when you enter a room,
when you cuddle me,
when you ruffle my hair playfully
because i remember
(and ive tried to forget)
the time you ruffled my hair
and then kissed me.
you put your lips to mine
and said
i don't know
and i never will
but take this as a salve
and let yourself heal.
and i have.
now i just don't know
how to let go of the cuddles
and the kisses
so in order to maintain sanity
i will let this thing in my chest
try to swell and choke me
but i'll put a smile on my face the whole time.
healing has let me see
that when you kiss me
your lips don't tell that
your love is true.
this thing in my chest
has forced itself
where a heart should be
a heart that deserves to fly.
Wish Something Could
yesterday
you let me lie on your unkempt bed, on your messy bed.
why does love have to be so unfair?
mostly because there is too much grit in your veins to let me in
just like there is too much mess on your carpet
the floor
keeps me grounded when i look
and see there's just no room for me in your life.
and in order not to betray
everything i've built up
through pain
through cold loneliness
i must stay true to myself
and simply continue to love you.
I love you and nothing will change that.
I'm sorry, I wish something could.
you let me lie on your unkempt bed, on your messy bed.
why does love have to be so unfair?
mostly because there is too much grit in your veins to let me in
just like there is too much mess on your carpet
the floor
keeps me grounded when i look
and see there's just no room for me in your life.
and in order not to betray
everything i've built up
through pain
through cold loneliness
i must stay true to myself
and simply continue to love you.
I love you and nothing will change that.
I'm sorry, I wish something could.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Comment on a different blog
In college, I wrote a paper discussing the evolution of rape law from the time when women were seen as owned by men, to the then current time (about 2001). It took me a long time to come up with a conclusion, because even though the basic law had been changed and restructured 3 times... it still didn't work in practical application. After thinking about this a long time I had the disturbing realization that each and every drafting of the law, from a hundred plus years ago, to today, had the same basic flaw. Each one assumed that consent to have sex had to be taken away... but never that it had to be given in the first place. Essentially, the end result was that consent was implied until the woman took it away using a specific action (saying no, resisting, etc). And while its a good thing to have a law where consent can be given, then later taken away if someone changes their mind, I find it highly disturbing that consent does not actually ever have to be given to begin with. The notion that in our society, every man has an implied right to have sex with me unless or until I take it away is seriously scary. Women should have to give that right, not take it away.
WOW
WOW
Monday, April 28, 2008
My question
Is this...
Daniel,
Would you like to fall in love with someone who would like to fall in love with you?
Daniel,
Would you like to fall in love with someone who would like to fall in love with you?
Question
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQnKBWkk_4M
She woke from a dream
Her head was on fire
Why was he so nervous?
He took her to the park
She crossed her arms
And lowered her eyelids
Someday somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight I've got a question for you
She'd had no idea
Started to cry
She said in a good way
He took her by the hand
Walked her back home
They took the long way
Someday somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight I've got a question for you
I've got a question for you...
She woke from a dream
Her head was on fire
Why was he so nervous?
He took her to the park
She crossed her arms
And lowered her eyelids
Someday somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight I've got a question for you
She'd had no idea
Started to cry
She said in a good way
He took her by the hand
Walked her back home
They took the long way
Someday somebody's gonna ask you
A question that you should say yes to
Once in your life
Maybe tonight I've got a question for you
I've got a question for you...
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sexual Assault Awareness Month
I hate Sexual Assault Awareness Month.
It's another reason for people to pity me, to offer me what they think is help and support but is really just nosy bullshit because they want drama.
It's another month where I have to face the fact that I was sexually assaulted and it has forever changed me.
It's another month where, every day, some flyer is posted in the bathroom about who to call if you are assaulted, or what movie to see, or what group to join to help make yourself safer.
Listen, people. Good and hard.
Don't ever ask me to explain myself or my experience to you. I would rather knock your teeth out with my left hook.
Fuck off, mind your own business.
I hate April.
It's another reason for people to pity me, to offer me what they think is help and support but is really just nosy bullshit because they want drama.
It's another month where I have to face the fact that I was sexually assaulted and it has forever changed me.
It's another month where, every day, some flyer is posted in the bathroom about who to call if you are assaulted, or what movie to see, or what group to join to help make yourself safer.
Listen, people. Good and hard.
Don't ever ask me to explain myself or my experience to you. I would rather knock your teeth out with my left hook.
Fuck off, mind your own business.
I hate April.
As a Result of Crying
To begin -
Fear.
As you well may know,
but others may not,
I am desperately afraid
of being alone
being unloved
being unlovable.
Afraid that
so many things
have conspired against me
ever having another loving relationship.
and that's really the only time I cry
when I think about the love
I have lost
love that has not even
stepped into my path
or rang my doorbell
or looked me in the eyes
love whose lips I have not tasted
love whose kisses I have not stood up under
and said,
pour down on me
rain down kisses from your lips
to my face
because i am hoping
they will never stop
what i fear more than
never having love
is that I have love
and am clumsy and stupid
and know not how to make it grow
how to capture your eyes
and bring them only to know mine
what i fear more than never having love
is how vibrant and beautiful
we could make our love to be
what i fear more than never having love
is that I am falling in love with you
even though I've told myself over and over again
not to fall
not to trip
not to even see you
you.
can see through me.
i hate it.
you can see
that i love you
that i need you
that every time you kiss me it brings me
thismuchcloser
to breaking my heart
and i hate it.
why, if you see
how you might hurt me,
do you still continue
to kiss me?
Fear.
As you well may know,
but others may not,
I am desperately afraid
of being alone
being unloved
being unlovable.
Afraid that
so many things
have conspired against me
ever having another loving relationship.
and that's really the only time I cry
when I think about the love
I have lost
love that has not even
stepped into my path
or rang my doorbell
or looked me in the eyes
love whose lips I have not tasted
love whose kisses I have not stood up under
and said,
pour down on me
rain down kisses from your lips
to my face
because i am hoping
they will never stop
what i fear more than
never having love
is that I have love
and am clumsy and stupid
and know not how to make it grow
how to capture your eyes
and bring them only to know mine
what i fear more than never having love
is how vibrant and beautiful
we could make our love to be
what i fear more than never having love
is that I am falling in love with you
even though I've told myself over and over again
not to fall
not to trip
not to even see you
you.
can see through me.
i hate it.
you can see
that i love you
that i need you
that every time you kiss me it brings me
thismuchcloser
to breaking my heart
and i hate it.
why, if you see
how you might hurt me,
do you still continue
to kiss me?
Brittani's Words
“Lost At Sea”
The water sparkles,
Reflecting the sun like a mirror
Made of cracked glass
When the sun sets,
The moonlight will become confetti
Sprinkled upon the waves
I walk the beach alone at night
I wait until the sun rises
Then, I return home
And crawl into bed
Alone—always alone now
This day,
Like all others before it,
There are no ships in the harbor.
________________
“The Elements”
Took some time away from life
To really find myself
Took your suggestion to heart
And found a way to calm my anger.
Do you know what I found?
I am like the earth
Grounded—
Immovable in my entire being,
But still capable of being shaken.
I am like the air
Ever present—
Always there for those that need me,
Though, I may be moved with the wind
I will never leave you completely.
I am like fire
Wild—
Incapable of being fully tamed
I have the potential to destroy
But, when cared for, I provide warmth
However, if mistreated or unattended
I will burn out of control.
I am water
Flowing—
Ever changing shape and location.
My spirit will not be broken.
____________________
“Shadows”
Shadows exist between light and dark
A sort of gray area
That the light would burn away and expose
Or the dark would consume from sight
You are an enigma
You show only what you wish to reveal
All else remains veiled
I do not know what you are
But, I think you are a shadow.
______________________
Haiku
Compressing all thoughts
Into three very short lines
Proves most difficult.
What now can we learn?
Nature is most beautiful
I see you in it.
Hope for renewal
Like the wishing well gone dry
I wait for the rain.
Do not cry for me
Your tears are far more precious
Than any ocean.
Holding in your breath
You now exhale with a sigh
I hear your silence.
Would you stop the world?
Would you let me save myself?
For me, would you wait?
Careless and clumsy
The knife cuts into my palm
The river runs red.
The water sparkles,
Reflecting the sun like a mirror
Made of cracked glass
When the sun sets,
The moonlight will become confetti
Sprinkled upon the waves
I walk the beach alone at night
I wait until the sun rises
Then, I return home
And crawl into bed
Alone—always alone now
This day,
Like all others before it,
There are no ships in the harbor.
________________
“The Elements”
Took some time away from life
To really find myself
Took your suggestion to heart
And found a way to calm my anger.
Do you know what I found?
I am like the earth
Grounded—
Immovable in my entire being,
But still capable of being shaken.
I am like the air
Ever present—
Always there for those that need me,
Though, I may be moved with the wind
I will never leave you completely.
I am like fire
Wild—
Incapable of being fully tamed
I have the potential to destroy
But, when cared for, I provide warmth
However, if mistreated or unattended
I will burn out of control.
I am water
Flowing—
Ever changing shape and location.
My spirit will not be broken.
____________________
“Shadows”
Shadows exist between light and dark
A sort of gray area
That the light would burn away and expose
Or the dark would consume from sight
You are an enigma
You show only what you wish to reveal
All else remains veiled
I do not know what you are
But, I think you are a shadow.
______________________
Haiku
Compressing all thoughts
Into three very short lines
Proves most difficult.
What now can we learn?
Nature is most beautiful
I see you in it.
Hope for renewal
Like the wishing well gone dry
I wait for the rain.
Do not cry for me
Your tears are far more precious
Than any ocean.
Holding in your breath
You now exhale with a sigh
I hear your silence.
Would you stop the world?
Would you let me save myself?
For me, would you wait?
Careless and clumsy
The knife cuts into my palm
The river runs red.
For you, David.
Wow. What an awesome blog - I'll be checking in on this daily now.
I read somewhere in the comments or the blog that this is really just about letting women know that they don't have to stick to the standards of what is "beautiful" as decided by society (men AND women).
Thought I could share a story that would explain why I personally have given up maintaining an ideal look for a man.
For almost a year, I dated a man I was very happy with. His name was David and we were great friends and possibly could have been very happy together for a long time. However, about six months into our relationship, he bought me a book, "Full Frontal Feminism".
After reading it, I realized the sickening blindness that was overtaking my life.
David came from a very wealthy family, and he was used to getting things his way. He liked his women to look just so, just as his mom looked for his dad everyday. He didn't like them to act "unnatural" or so he claimed. He treated me to diamonds, expensive dinners, and so on as long as I kept playing my part in his little game.
He had stupid silly demands:
My toenails and fingernails had to match in color and never chip.
My hair and makeup had to be done every day.
I had to wear nice things out to dinner with him - I mean nice....
I had to shave my pubic hair. Never mind the fact that when I shave my underarms or pubic area, I always (and I have tried everything, guys) get unbearably painful bumps that last for days, as well as ingrown hairs...
When he decided to go on a diet midway through our relationship, I had to go on one with him.
After we broke up, he asked me just how much weight I had gained when we were together.
....
Yeah, I dated THAT guy.
Since then, I've not only allowed myself freedom in my appearance, but in my lifestyle. Without a boyfriend, I don't feel guilty going out every night with my friends and never picking up my phone when it rings. I don't plan on ever being married, although I think it can be a great choice for others. I am going to travel through Europe and Asia after I graduate because I can and I want to. I've not only abandoned standards of beauty, but of lifestyle as well. While most of my friends are looking to settle down, I don't feel as if I've gotten nearly rowdy enough to have anything to settle to!!!!
If I don't wear makeup, so what? If I choose not to wear "pretty" clothes that show off my tits, so what? If I always wear flipflops with my toenails unpainted or chipped, who cares? I see men doing the same all the time.
And, since David and I broke up, I've found someone much better in my life. He loves me, is always there for me, and knows that I need my space as much as he does. That's why we're not officially dating. I always know he will be there, but I don't need him and he doesn't need me and that's what keeps us strong. He sees me without makeup, in sweatpants, all the time and still rolls over in the middle of the night to kiss my face because he sees my true beauty.
I hope everyone finds a man like him!
I read somewhere in the comments or the blog that this is really just about letting women know that they don't have to stick to the standards of what is "beautiful" as decided by society (men AND women).
Thought I could share a story that would explain why I personally have given up maintaining an ideal look for a man.
For almost a year, I dated a man I was very happy with. His name was David and we were great friends and possibly could have been very happy together for a long time. However, about six months into our relationship, he bought me a book, "Full Frontal Feminism".
After reading it, I realized the sickening blindness that was overtaking my life.
David came from a very wealthy family, and he was used to getting things his way. He liked his women to look just so, just as his mom looked for his dad everyday. He didn't like them to act "unnatural" or so he claimed. He treated me to diamonds, expensive dinners, and so on as long as I kept playing my part in his little game.
He had stupid silly demands:
My toenails and fingernails had to match in color and never chip.
My hair and makeup had to be done every day.
I had to wear nice things out to dinner with him - I mean nice....
I had to shave my pubic hair. Never mind the fact that when I shave my underarms or pubic area, I always (and I have tried everything, guys) get unbearably painful bumps that last for days, as well as ingrown hairs...
When he decided to go on a diet midway through our relationship, I had to go on one with him.
After we broke up, he asked me just how much weight I had gained when we were together.
....
Yeah, I dated THAT guy.
Since then, I've not only allowed myself freedom in my appearance, but in my lifestyle. Without a boyfriend, I don't feel guilty going out every night with my friends and never picking up my phone when it rings. I don't plan on ever being married, although I think it can be a great choice for others. I am going to travel through Europe and Asia after I graduate because I can and I want to. I've not only abandoned standards of beauty, but of lifestyle as well. While most of my friends are looking to settle down, I don't feel as if I've gotten nearly rowdy enough to have anything to settle to!!!!
If I don't wear makeup, so what? If I choose not to wear "pretty" clothes that show off my tits, so what? If I always wear flipflops with my toenails unpainted or chipped, who cares? I see men doing the same all the time.
And, since David and I broke up, I've found someone much better in my life. He loves me, is always there for me, and knows that I need my space as much as he does. That's why we're not officially dating. I always know he will be there, but I don't need him and he doesn't need me and that's what keeps us strong. He sees me without makeup, in sweatpants, all the time and still rolls over in the middle of the night to kiss my face because he sees my true beauty.
I hope everyone finds a man like him!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Molasses
I'd lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
you're stuck to me
nothing but sweat in between
as you pull me again
into those inviting arms
it's afternoon,
the sun still high
i can't get you
off my mind
ooh baby...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
as we slowly take it south.
when i asked you
to slowly love on me
i never knew it would take so long...
oh but baby
i'd never needed this more...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
while we slowly take it south
oh darling
i've been beside you
in bed from night to dawn
your touch and your kiss
they'd never leave me for long...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
while we slowly take it south...
like molasses in my mouth
you're stuck to me
nothing but sweat in between
as you pull me again
into those inviting arms
it's afternoon,
the sun still high
i can't get you
off my mind
ooh baby...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
as we slowly take it south.
when i asked you
to slowly love on me
i never knew it would take so long...
oh but baby
i'd never needed this more...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
while we slowly take it south
oh darling
i've been beside you
in bed from night to dawn
your touch and your kiss
they'd never leave me for long...
id lick you off a spoon
like molasses in my mouth
id keep you in my smile
while we slowly take it south...
Nothing Other Than Me
before tonight he lies with me
he sighs with me
my neck in his breath
my eyes in his breath
steaming up what has already been strummed
before tonight i lie with him
i sigh with him
my breath in his neck
my breath in his eyes
steaming up what I have already strummed
I am the sweat in the air
that surrounds and clouds
and he's trying to breathe
something other than me
but he can't
he sighs with me
my neck in his breath
my eyes in his breath
steaming up what has already been strummed
before tonight i lie with him
i sigh with him
my breath in his neck
my breath in his eyes
steaming up what I have already strummed
I am the sweat in the air
that surrounds and clouds
and he's trying to breathe
something other than me
but he can't
I'm the kind of girl...
she's the kind of girl
who lies to your eyes
who tricks and tries to please
who moves too fast to pin down
in time,
she has to take a ragged breath
a haggard day, in time.
she'll glance up to you
and see that you see
and soon enough
she will be gone
in time.
who lies to your eyes
who tricks and tries to please
who moves too fast to pin down
in time,
she has to take a ragged breath
a haggard day, in time.
she'll glance up to you
and see that you see
and soon enough
she will be gone
in time.
Strength and Hope Come From Sisters
It's been months
since I have seen the summer
felt the sun lap at my skin
to feed my soul
and blind me
perhaps by blinding me
the sun in the summer months
helps to me see more
in my life
in those around me
in the hope that lies within life
having seen
the darker side of things
underbellies of rocks
riverbeds, dry or wet
molehills and mountains
(but never mountaintops)
I am tired of seeing the darker side of things.
Hope resides in the rays of light
that beam down to bless my arms
as I drive into the day.
the strength to go on comes
from living through the winter
but the reason to live on comes
from that giddy sun
and its unaffectable smile-shine
since I have seen the summer
felt the sun lap at my skin
to feed my soul
and blind me
perhaps by blinding me
the sun in the summer months
helps to me see more
in my life
in those around me
in the hope that lies within life
having seen
the darker side of things
underbellies of rocks
riverbeds, dry or wet
molehills and mountains
(but never mountaintops)
I am tired of seeing the darker side of things.
Hope resides in the rays of light
that beam down to bless my arms
as I drive into the day.
the strength to go on comes
from living through the winter
but the reason to live on comes
from that giddy sun
and its unaffectable smile-shine
The Potter
El Alfarero
Todo tu cuerpo tiene
copa o dulzura destinada a mí.
Cuando subo la mano
encuentro en cada sitio una paloma
que me buscaba, como
si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla
para mis propias manos de alfarero.
Tus rodillas, tus senos
tu cintura
faltan en mí como en el hueco
de una tierra sedienta
de la que desprendieron
una forma,
y juntos
somos completos como un solo río,
como una sola arena.
The Potter
Your whole body holds
a goblet or gentle sweetness destined for
me.
When I let my hand climb,
in each place I find a dove
that was looking for me, as if
my love, they had made you out of clay
for my very own potter’s hands.
Your knees, your breasts,
your waist
are missing in me, like in the hollow
of a thirsting earth
where they relinquished
a form,
and together
we are complete like one single river,
like one single grain of sand.
Todo tu cuerpo tiene
copa o dulzura destinada a mí.
Cuando subo la mano
encuentro en cada sitio una paloma
que me buscaba, como
si te hubieran, amor, hecho de arcilla
para mis propias manos de alfarero.
Tus rodillas, tus senos
tu cintura
faltan en mí como en el hueco
de una tierra sedienta
de la que desprendieron
una forma,
y juntos
somos completos como un solo río,
como una sola arena.
The Potter
Your whole body holds
a goblet or gentle sweetness destined for
me.
When I let my hand climb,
in each place I find a dove
that was looking for me, as if
my love, they had made you out of clay
for my very own potter’s hands.
Your knees, your breasts,
your waist
are missing in me, like in the hollow
of a thirsting earth
where they relinquished
a form,
and together
we are complete like one single river,
like one single grain of sand.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Male Privilege Checklist
1. My odds of being hired for a job, when competing against female applicants, are probably skewed in my favor. The more prestigious the job, the larger the odds are skewed.
2. I can be confident that my co-workers won’t think I got my job because of my sex - even though that might be true. (More).
3. If I am never promoted, it’s not because of my sex.
4. If I fail in my job or career, I can feel sure this won’t be seen as a black mark against my entire sex’s capabilities.
5. I am far less likely to face sexual harassment at work than my female co-workers are. (More).
6. If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.
7. If I’m a teen or adult, and if I can stay out of prison, my odds of being raped are relatively low. (More).
8. On average, I am taught to fear walking alone after dark in average public spaces much less than my female counterparts are.
9. If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be called into question.
10. If I have children but do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be called into question.
11. If I have children and provide primary care for them, I’ll be praised for extraordinary parenting if I’m even marginally competent. (More).
12. If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.
13. If I seek political office, my relationship with my children, or who I hire to take care of them, will probably not be scrutinized by the press.
14. My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious and powerful the elected position, the more this is true.
15. When I ask to see “the person in charge,” odds are I will face a person of my own sex. The higher-up in the organization the person is, the surer I can be.
16. As a child, chances are I was encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters. (More).
17. As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.
18. As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often. (More).
19. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones.
20. I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented, every day, without exception.
21. If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.
22. If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.
23. I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.
24. Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.” (More).
25. I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability or my gender conformity. (More).
26. My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring. (More).
27. The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time. (More).
28. If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car. (More).
29. If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are relatively small and easy to ignore.
30. I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.
31. I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)
32. I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.
33. My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.
34. I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.
35. The decision to hire me will never be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.
36. Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.
37. Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.
38. If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks. (More).
39. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, chances are she’ll do most of the childrearing, and in particular the most dirty, repetitive and unrewarding parts of childrearing.
40. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.
41. Magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.
42. In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. (More). If I am fat, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than fat women do. (More).
43. If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover. (More).
44. Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.” (More: 1 2).
45. On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.
46. I have the privilege of being unaware of my male privilege.
2. I can be confident that my co-workers won’t think I got my job because of my sex - even though that might be true. (More).
3. If I am never promoted, it’s not because of my sex.
4. If I fail in my job or career, I can feel sure this won’t be seen as a black mark against my entire sex’s capabilities.
5. I am far less likely to face sexual harassment at work than my female co-workers are. (More).
6. If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.
7. If I’m a teen or adult, and if I can stay out of prison, my odds of being raped are relatively low. (More).
8. On average, I am taught to fear walking alone after dark in average public spaces much less than my female counterparts are.
9. If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be called into question.
10. If I have children but do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be called into question.
11. If I have children and provide primary care for them, I’ll be praised for extraordinary parenting if I’m even marginally competent. (More).
12. If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.
13. If I seek political office, my relationship with my children, or who I hire to take care of them, will probably not be scrutinized by the press.
14. My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious and powerful the elected position, the more this is true.
15. When I ask to see “the person in charge,” odds are I will face a person of my own sex. The higher-up in the organization the person is, the surer I can be.
16. As a child, chances are I was encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters. (More).
17. As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.
18. As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often. (More).
19. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones.
20. I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented, every day, without exception.
21. If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.
22. If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.
23. I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.
24. Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.” (More).
25. I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability or my gender conformity. (More).
26. My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring. (More).
27. The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time. (More).
28. If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car. (More).
29. If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are relatively small and easy to ignore.
30. I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.
31. I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)
32. I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.
33. My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.
34. I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.
35. The decision to hire me will never be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.
36. Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.
37. Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.
38. If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks. (More).
39. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, chances are she’ll do most of the childrearing, and in particular the most dirty, repetitive and unrewarding parts of childrearing.
40. If I have children with a wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.
41. Magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.
42. In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. (More). If I am fat, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than fat women do. (More).
43. If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover. (More).
44. Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.” (More: 1 2).
45. On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.
46. I have the privilege of being unaware of my male privilege.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
That night I spent in your arms...
Good night, baby.
and it was a good night.
it was a gooooooooood night.
It was an even better morning, to wake up next to you
and know
you feel more for me
than just
friends
and just
sanity
and just
pragmatism
that my pragmatic hands mean more to you
than I can know.
please fall in love with me.
because i'd love to fall too
instead of being suspended in thin air
floating
on clouds and hope and tenacity
every day.
and it was a good night.
it was a gooooooooood night.
It was an even better morning, to wake up next to you
and know
you feel more for me
than just
friends
and just
sanity
and just
pragmatism
that my pragmatic hands mean more to you
than I can know.
please fall in love with me.
because i'd love to fall too
instead of being suspended in thin air
floating
on clouds and hope and tenacity
every day.
Just so you know
I'm not waiting around
planning my life without you in it
but please feel free to join me on my walk.
planning my life without you in it
but please feel free to join me on my walk.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Amanda is...
writing you a letter in her head
to be spoken at a later date.
Have mercy.
I can't take this much longer.
to be spoken at a later date.
Have mercy.
I can't take this much longer.
so glad you'll never read this
so glad you'll never read this.
so glad you'll never know
one look can tear my heart from my eyes
one look can rupture my every thing.
one touch CAN corrupt
as it always does.
one touch should be enough to teach her
once burned,
twice burned,
thrice burned.
speaking of you,
one kiss never hurt you.
but it destroys me.
each one of them.
every
single
goddamn
weak moment
weak mind
every single kiss.
I guess I should learn not to play with lions.
Though they mean well, one misplaced hand
can tear everything apart.
I'm glad you'll never read this,
because it means
I don't ever have to say any of this to your face.
so glad you'll never know
one look can tear my heart from my eyes
one look can rupture my every thing.
one touch CAN corrupt
as it always does.
one touch should be enough to teach her
once burned,
twice burned,
thrice burned.
speaking of you,
one kiss never hurt you.
but it destroys me.
each one of them.
every
single
goddamn
weak moment
weak mind
every single kiss.
I guess I should learn not to play with lions.
Though they mean well, one misplaced hand
can tear everything apart.
I'm glad you'll never read this,
because it means
I don't ever have to say any of this to your face.
nothing is wrong, so wrong.
nothing is wrong,
so wrong.
so wrong.
nothing is threatening
to knock me
nothing is everything
i've ever wanted
and can never have.
self-denial. self-denial. self-denial.
is her mantra.
She must repeat this millions of times until she actually believes it.
Nothing has ever been so right
so wrong
because nothing is wrong.
so wrong.
so wrong.
nothing is threatening
to knock me
nothing is everything
i've ever wanted
and can never have.
self-denial. self-denial. self-denial.
is her mantra.
She must repeat this millions of times until she actually believes it.
Nothing has ever been so right
so wrong
because nothing is wrong.
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