interlude.

of all the people on the planet that i could say something to, i will never stop having news for you.


"this is the end, beautiful friend. this is the end, my only friend, the end."

listen to something beautiful.

Goldfish

It's an unspeakable feeling that comes from the depths. We can't articulate it any other way than the simplest of words and we know those won't suffice.

This goes beyond the body yearning for another one to be close.
Beyond worry or doubt or fear.
Like a steady beat, it rings true all the time.
Even after an angry word or a step in the wrong direction.

Every time I tell you, I feel like you immediately forget
and you then walk all over me
oblivious to every step.

My dear, you could not ruin me if you tried. (Even tears dry up.)

But for now, I'll tell you the simple delusional truth:

I love you and there's nothing I can do about it.

Sick

i wonder how much time of someone's day is really given to really uprooting every single good thing that could be laid down.

i am listening with my entire being and i'm finding that i'm out of practice. i miss the point sometimes, please bear with me. the words won't make you hear what i have, you need your skin for this, your ears, your soul. you need to absorb it all the way that we can.

i was in love with your history. i was in love with your history. my past was in love with your's but i don't know where i stand now. the brink that i am teetering on is showing signs that if i take you with me, it will mean a swift plunge and certain death. but once i let go of this rope that holds us tight to one another in a swirling current, if i just loosen the grip of my bonds to anyone in particular, i will find exactly what i've been searching for. and whatever you see as beautiful or amazing or grand, none of it will effect what i see. rather, none of it will have to effect it. that effect is ugly and cruel.

maybe the nice things are the ones that i need the least. perhaps i wasn't built to simply enjoy, and a lot of scripture points to this. but that really means something a lot different here, i think.

"nothing about us is simple"
(the phrase "i don't want to lose you" is very real and obnoxiously useless.)

Cage

Once the opportunity strikes, you don't want to ask the important questions because you want to hold off on the answer.
That isn't about fear, it's about excitement. And hope.

The Nomad puts on her moccasins and opens the tent door to the rising sun.

A lot of things have strange connotations that lead us to make very strange assumptions. In this society words like, "calm" and "gentle" read as "slow" and "meek". Some people don't fill out stereotypes. Some things are not as bad as they seem.

She steps past the threshold of her makeshift home and stands tall. Today she will journey far and not know what she will see.

There are things we can expect. We know that the Moon will run a cycle in twenty eight days and that it takes nine months for a baby to develop in the womb. We know that it takes nine months for a child to complete a school year and that it takes four years to complete a Bachelor's Degree. I wonder if we've always been so sure.

The morning is kind and the Nomad smiles into the face of the world. The sights that she has seen before do not compare to a present moment nor does the future. She is here and now.

As soon as you are aware of a role that you play, you ruin it. Especially the ones that make you the hero.

The Nomad has met many people. Many that have joined her in travels, others that have been hospitable. All have taught her something and all have learned something in return. She holds the words of Warriors in her chest and stories of Hunters in her eyes. She has learned strength from them. She keeps the hearts of Poets on her tongue and the sights of Lovers in her skin. She cannot turn away from others so easily but cares not to master such arts. Her job is not to become them, but to absorb them.

The phrase that I want to use in this sentence is "The problem is" but it can't be pointed out so blatantly. It's more of a subtle redundancy, the kind that everyone is so wildly aware of that they've forgotten how to define it.
The word "the".
The elephant isn't being ignored, it's that everyone's already adapted to the awkwardness of it. They want to pay attention to just about anything else.

Many have asked her where she was going. In most cases she'll reply with an elaborate lie that comes so very close to the truth in the end. After all, a destination is just a way of steering your course-- why not decide to head in that direction? In some cases, however, she'll be a bit more honest, which is definitely a lie--and she'll say she has no idea. After hearing both, a simple person would decide that she is not only lost but a liar. The Nomad would concur and go further to say that she may just be a contradiction. But she has somewhere to go.

The Hawaiian language has a series of complex sounds but is only written with twelve letters.

Perhaps definitions are simply how well you can subtly define the completely elusive.


Originally written on 8/11/08

The "Block"

-insert creative remarks here-

I'm scared of just being a person made of poetry magnets. Like the only thing good thing I can produce is epigrams.

Maybe this is just another mold I can't fit in.

Renewal: I could sleep it off again. Let's try that on for size.

"Good night and joy be with you all.."