10:39 PM
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poetry
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The hardest part about writing is that you actually have to write. Contact is everything. The way your fingers hit the keyboard, the way the muse hits your heart. I'm just not feeling much of anything story-wise these days and I fear that that's only because I've strayed so far from character names and actually trying to write something other than my own story.
If all I write are journal entries, does that make me egotistical and self-absorbed?
Finally got to a writing workshop and the writing prompt was "sex."
"Iceberg"
Sex was a word
Then it flooded into action
heavy breathing, pistons churning
But a gaping hole in the hull revealed
The inner wires mangled up.
The steam stopped rising.
The engine fell limp in silence.
Red oil spilled across the water.
The entire ocean tainted.
I'm way too tired to think anymore.
Sign out.
9:04 AM
Posted In
poetry
,
rewrite
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"You Are Still A Ghost To Me"
You used to grin like dolphins do
Call out to me with a playful flick of your arm
So we twirled about your kitchen
Lost in the sound waves
Hands and hipbones hugging
The bass lines of our hearts
Almost kissing in synchrony.
Later we played that song
You on your guitar and me, softly singing:
It was your hello that kept me hanging on every word
And your goodbye that keeps me listening for your voice around each corner. . . .
The notes skating out on into forever
Until your D string broke.
We restrung your guitar
But the harmony was forever
a little more discordant.
7:45 PM
Posted In
Adventure
,
beautiful
,
Future
,
Golden
,
Happiness
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Endlessly frustrated.
My thoughts never quite homogenize into something coherent. Every step I take just shakes the contents that much more. Foggy Google thoughts. I've been living on the other side of the river. Got to turn the snow globe back around. These hazy day words mean nothing unless your in my head. Every letter is a secret message from the past. Every word morse code that's screaming "save me."
I'm lining up fireflies so I can write in an ink more beautiful than blood. I sign my name in stars. Lately, I've been on an adventure that has no ending. No real goal or destination.
The same questions always come back no matter what creed is creeping through your skull. The moral of the story is your blood is a river that'll eventually lead to an ocean. You just have to push off and see where the currents will take you.
The end result is me feeling infinite.
The end result is knowing there's something greater.
The end result is still having mystery.
Mystery, the presence of more meaning than we can understand.
Forever hopeful.
8:27 AM
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Enter.
I'm working on another slam. It's been awhile. I still haven't memorized the ones I've written. Whatever. Sometimes you pour out words just because the bottle is overflowing. You can't always catch them all, but oh if you could.
Lets get this straight
I am not a pill you pop
I cannot dissolve your problems
I won’t presume to think I can solve them
I’m not your personal God or Goddess
So don’t pray to me.
Don’t come up to me,
Fall on your knees
And scream “save me.”
Became I am not your savior.
I can’t alter your behavior.
And if you want in on my journey
You had best be signing a waiver
Because I’m telling you now,
People are going to get hurt.
I may be someone’s counter-part
But I am not a band-aid that can fix a broken heart.
So stop presuming I'll be assuming that position
I'm not a physician and the only ambition I have is to be
An electrician cause I want to rewire your eyes
Make you see that every breath you breathe is a surprise
Every thought you think the water to baptize yourself in.
So start dreaming and grow yourself a pool to swim in.
Then dream bigger and give yourself a lake to live in.
{...}
What I can do is this:
Hum hallelujahs and love poems
That flow so far out they hit the ocean
Evaporate by the sun then
Dissipate on everyone
A thousand I love yous a minute
Getting soaked straight into your skin
But I need you to know I don't delete the past
I just water the seeds that grow the future
I can't cut down the weeds in your forest
I just help the trees already there to grow.
"Every good beginning comes from some other beginnings end..."
I am dreaming in a thousand different languages. I think I could talk to anyone at this point. Draw them a picture of my heart and say "read this" and get a smile as answer.The feeling flows from my toes to my nose. I've got a heart on that just grows and grows and grows. Someday, I'm going to swallow the entire world and show it a love it's never known.
Give me your heart / that would be the start / of something beautiful / la de da da da / and that's how the song goes / and this smile of mine / just grows and grows and grows...
Sometimes the purest moments get photographed in your heart just to be distorted by everyone else's reality. Shine bright. Shine bright. You shine oh so bright.
Sometimes you throw your cards down and walk away from the table early just to find it being played somewhere else. I wanted what I said to have some deeper meaning. But lately I can't quite capture what's on my mind, on my heart.
I'm a riddle who's answer escapes even the author.
Less is more.
All you need is sunshine, rain, and a little bit of lightening.
That's some pretty intense fire.
Exit
7:50 PM
Posted In
beautiful
,
friendship
,
Happiness
,
Loj
,
Love
,
Moments
,
Optimism
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Life can be incredibly beautiful. What a fantastic weekend. Between the rocks and the stars and the pseudo rock stars I have a enough stories to keep me going for a long while. Life is one continuous motion. We're all just in it for the ride.
I think the best parts are those unexpected friendships. The ones where you didn't think what was going to happen does and it's totally serendipitous and it leaves you on a slow motion upwards ride. From on top the world looks mighty fine.
Lately, my biggest frustration is other people being unhappy. I want to snatch away their pain and just say "here! take my glasses! the world's much friendlier through different lenses." But you know how it goes. Sometimes what we see as beauty is another's tragedy.
Sometimes we trump around stories because we don't know what else to do with him. They're like explosions inside us and if don't let them out we threaten to tear ourselves a part. Or sometimes life is just so beautiful that we just need to share it. Not to compare it, but just to say. Wow. Aren't things amazing?
I saw a ghost last night. No joke. I'm still wigged out. The way the boundaries seemed to blur between the living and the dead. The past and the future. So much came together this weekend and so much finally ended.
Believe it or not, I think my favorite part was talking while doing dishes or sitting out on the back porch in the cold looking for shooting stars. Just one of those things where you are totally absorbed in the moment. Time seems to escape you and all that you become are words and stories and ideas and the future seems oh so infinite and everything seems oh so possible.
The glorious thing is, you wake up from your reverie and find out it is.
Live it.
Love it.
XO
10:04 PM
Posted In
Happiness
,
poetry
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I should be in bed. The stars are tap tap tapping their shoes above my head. Night is a glorious time. They're dancing me a lullaby that's too beautiful to fall asleep listening to. Have you ever listened to a song so completely that you've wanted to break down into tears. Not because you are sad and not because you are happy either, but because it is just so incredibly beautiful.
Threw on an old record and got so ecstatic; bliss. The way a song slips into your ear and reminds you of someone, something. You can't help but love the fluid of the movement. Air twisting and turning. Smiles bloom like flowers in the springtime. You can't stop the circle of life. The question is, how long can you stay on a high? The question is, does gravity apply to emotions? I'm starting to think I'm on a rocket ship to the moon.
"You Are Still A Ghost To Me"
You used to grin like dolphins do
Call out to me with a playful flick of your arm
Lets dance and we'd twirl about your kitchen
Lost in one of times many eddies.
Hand upon hand, hipbones hugging
The bass lines of our hearts beating
So very close together -- almost
Kissing in synchrony.
Later we'd play that song
You on your guitar and me, softly singing:
It was your hello that kept me hanging on every word
And your goodbye that keeps me listening for your voice around each corner...
The notes skating out on into forever, always.
Until your D string broke and my voice cracked.
We restrung your guitar and made cocoa for my throat
But we never sounded the same after that
That shared harmony forever a little more discordant.
I don't know where that came from.
I feel awesome
XO
7:31 PM
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That was me typing fast, not caring if things made sense.
They never do.
6:43 PM
Posted In
Future
,
life
,
on the run
,
Philosophy
,
poetry
,
slam
,
Thoughts
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Our greatest tragedies are our biggest medals. We like to wear them as scars and souvenirs, showing them off to everyone we meet. See, what happened to me? See? And look, I'm still ok. Don't you get it. I'm fine. Have faith in me!
We're so fast to show our scars.
So quick to show the bruise.
Slower to show the blood
Slowest to show the wound.
Everyone loves a tragedy. We're all Shakespearean actors: To be or not to be?
Or worse. Our friends. The ones we lose or who get lost. Our bragging rights. Their pain, our momentary glory.
My friend had cancer.
My friend shot up with dirty needles.
My friend's mom died.
Conversation starters and stoppers. Do we ever stop to think what it is we're saying. The lives we trivialize for the moment's passion, that tiny spotlight on us.
If the game of life is a card game, don't deal me in. I don't want to win.
I'm tired of trumping around tragedies, masquerading them as achievements.
I'm tired of people harping on sadness.
That long wailing note.
The bell toll.
That empty chime.
Finished.
Done.
Dead.
In the silence, people think they know what you are thinking. I get annoyed whenever anyone thinks they have my riddled solved because hell, even I haven't gotten that far.
I get so frustrated some times.
People not understanding compassion, or just lacking it.
People not getting my goodwill or hijacking it.
And all that time people saying, here's my tragedy, look at it. Here's a microscope dissolve it under your lens.
I am tired of being the fucking hero. I am tired of untangling the strings in other people's lives then being left with nothing in my hands except the callouses I gained from working out the knots.
Do you know how it feels to be the one they forgot?
The thing is this. I'm not saying "dissect this." I'm just saying listen. "I'm here." Sometimes I put my thumbs on the keyboard and hit go on my brain. Sometimes I just start writing so you'd know I wasn't going insane. Letters are the blood cells of my brain. All they do is nourish me and reproduce.
What's this creature I'm creating?
I am not sure why I do what I do. Really, I just want to love God, but I don't even know how to. At night I don't sleep thinking I've missed the message or am failing to live it out - when I talk about the people I knew and loved and lost. Or the things I did or worse, the ones I failed to. When my life becomes more about me than everyone else.
I don't want to live with the spotlight on me. I want to live in the shadows. The man behind the curtain hoisting up others to fly. My biggest blasphemy, sometimes I think I could do what Jesus did. If I really tried hard. Sometimes I wonder if that's what we're supposed to. Just try really hard and fail by a lot.
I want to hold faith in the palms of my hands and say here, friends, examine.
I'm tired of highlighting tragedy.
Our lives are more than a list of failures.
Our songs more than low notes and minor keys.
I want to write symphonies that say "you are ok" and "you are loved."
I want to give hugs when I speak.
Wrap my words around souls so hard they can feel
The life seeping back into their bones.
I want to walk with a rhythm that says listen
You are a star that can glisten
Someday I hum hallelujahs and love poems
That flow out so far they hit the ocean
Evaporate by the sun then
Dissipate on everyone
A thousand I love you's a minute.
It's pretty beautiful you know
Love that melts the moon.
I want to stop lying. I want to stop saying I know so-and-so or this-and-such happened to me. If I could, I'd speak only of others. I want to mother the world. Say Baby girl, keep walking. Or better yet, keep talking. You're almost there.
You're almost there
You're almost there
You're almost there
But really,
Where is it that we're going.
And why are we in such a rush?
6:57 PM
Posted In
poetry
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Guitar strings sing
That sweet last lullaby,
Those words you said,
The thoughts I shouldn't think
But do anyways. Always.
The bass track is gone.
I don't want it back.
It went on too long
Crying out in agony.
A broken pulse.
A dying animal.
Please, end the suffering.
And here I am, again.
Alone with my guitar
Wanting to write love songs
But forgetting where to
place my fingers.
Forgetting exactly
where I misplaced
my heart.
I wrote the poem above in response to a poem someone wrote me.
Remember the notebooks we took?
Telephones to each other's mind
All you had to do was turn the page
There was your thought
Then came mine.
Volleyed thoughts.
Page after page in perfect
synchrony, symmetry.
One after another.
Again.
But all games end,
And you hung up your pen.
My ink left cold to
Flow,
Alone
Then I wrote the above in response to a memory.
8:06 PM
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I am writing the coolest flipping book ever. All fact with a little fiction woven in. This patchwork of words is going to be an explosion of life. I can't wait.
Basic Idea is as it always was: I am telling the story of my summer. I am interweaving it with my journal and blog entries as well as a fiction story I am writing or I wrote. I may use the book I was writing this summer. I think that would actually work really successfully. How cool would that be. Then reader's could see the parallels and differences. Or I could do Enchantment Reawakened...simply for the fact that I love that story.
I guess this is what God must feel like. Imagining and loving His creation before it is breathed into existence. You pour over every little detail, making it just right. Of course you know it through and through. Of course God loves me for who I am.
Basic creativity 101.
Although lately I've been having really in-depth arguments about my faith and what it means to be Christian. Are we supposed to worship God by how we lives our lives? Lives of submission and serving others or are we supposed to go to Church and Worship God and forget what it was Christ actually did while on earth? Or is it our responsibility to find the noble balance between the two?
This question eats away at me the way water eats at the shore. I never really get anywhere.
But I will say this, even if I doubt how God should be respected and worshiped I do not doubt God's existence. I merely want to serve my God as faithfully as possible. Because even though I question, I believe - I know.
How beautiful was the sunset tonight?
They always did have a homeward bound feel.
Life at home is simple, elegant, and amazing.
Goodnight.
6:52 PM
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There is always a place at the table, always a smile to share, always a joke to have.
