After his most significant loss,
Through years kind enough to hurt,
He held onto himself with fear and trepidation,
Fearing any more loss could be the weight, to tip the scales of senility,
Closed so tight, that not even the prying bar of love,
Could release thoughts, feelings and emotions.
Moments of levity cause him pain.
Never allowing himself to let go of his greatest loss,
Knowing the sour state, and bitter words.
Smart enough to know that what is done is done.
Yet stupid enough to allow closeness to dissipate for safety.
To be open,
To be visible,
Is a breach of an impenetrable wall.
One so often lamented,
yet virtually impossible to dispose.
Until the day it crumbled just a bit,
One peek into the inner workings,
Enough to infect a perfect system,
Perfect in its efficient exclusivity,
Imperfect in its acceptance of outside stimuli.
Currently the imbalance rocks him slowly,
Making him feel an intense yearning,
For something unattainable, which leads to questions,
Pain, and improbable thoughts.
Ending up.....
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Her eyes....
It's hard not to compare that first look in her eyes, to something only described as a miracle. Sunsets, sunrises, shooting stars, and eclipses, so universal yet unequal.
To make any effort to be acknowledged, to prove ones existence becomes a weighted endeavor.
To continue from there, has been life.
We often cheapen what love is, thanks in part to so many things.
The silver screen, television, literature, and life.
Often being jaded once, is being jaded forever, and being unable to feel what we should be so fortunate to experience.
To feel love, to be in love, to actually BE love.
This is the sole ingredient of which her eyes are made of.
The eyes, the windows of the soul and mind.
Can teach one all they need to know in a matter of moments, unbeknown to either party.
Much like a download of emotion, thought, and sentiment, that cannot be opened as quickly.
From all that is taken, one cannot comprehend, or understand that foundation, without building upon it.
Leaving such an act all to itself, makes it pass thoughtfully but inevitably away.
So to allow what the eyes disclose, to become the mouth and heart's discussion, begins the continuation, of the addition, to the foundation.
It takes not a day, or a week, or a month or a year. For these things can not be timed.
Until at last, that which has been built up from foundation, has become furnished with all that one learned through the one glance through the windows of her soul.
The fears, the emotions, the trials and tribulations, everything with each passing glance becoming not just information.
But a case against the on-looker's heart.
One it will surely lose, resulting in him being found guilty of love.
All of this internally never seeking justification or acknowledgment externally.
For while the trial of his heart takes place, true life continues.
Both parties continue on with the lives they make for themselves.
Then one moment, one thought, one rogue emotion.
Brings his life crashing down, because it will all be a lie, all that he tries to know and believe.
Never, coincide with what he saw that day he looked in her eyes.
He will spend days after weeks after months attempting to turn back the clock to go abck to a time when he didn't have to realize what can no longer be repressed.
He will fail, time and time again.
He will face the questions that bring humanity to it's knees, those of confrontation, or dismissal.
Much like in many situations, he will be unable to choose either.
Leaving him to mourn love.
Not because a love will die, but because he can never let love live.
All because of a look in her eyes,
One silly little look.
His life will never be the same.
To make any effort to be acknowledged, to prove ones existence becomes a weighted endeavor.
To continue from there, has been life.
We often cheapen what love is, thanks in part to so many things.
The silver screen, television, literature, and life.
Often being jaded once, is being jaded forever, and being unable to feel what we should be so fortunate to experience.
To feel love, to be in love, to actually BE love.
This is the sole ingredient of which her eyes are made of.
The eyes, the windows of the soul and mind.
Can teach one all they need to know in a matter of moments, unbeknown to either party.
Much like a download of emotion, thought, and sentiment, that cannot be opened as quickly.
From all that is taken, one cannot comprehend, or understand that foundation, without building upon it.
Leaving such an act all to itself, makes it pass thoughtfully but inevitably away.
So to allow what the eyes disclose, to become the mouth and heart's discussion, begins the continuation, of the addition, to the foundation.
It takes not a day, or a week, or a month or a year. For these things can not be timed.
Until at last, that which has been built up from foundation, has become furnished with all that one learned through the one glance through the windows of her soul.
The fears, the emotions, the trials and tribulations, everything with each passing glance becoming not just information.
But a case against the on-looker's heart.
One it will surely lose, resulting in him being found guilty of love.
All of this internally never seeking justification or acknowledgment externally.
For while the trial of his heart takes place, true life continues.
Both parties continue on with the lives they make for themselves.
Then one moment, one thought, one rogue emotion.
Brings his life crashing down, because it will all be a lie, all that he tries to know and believe.
Never, coincide with what he saw that day he looked in her eyes.
He will spend days after weeks after months attempting to turn back the clock to go abck to a time when he didn't have to realize what can no longer be repressed.
He will fail, time and time again.
He will face the questions that bring humanity to it's knees, those of confrontation, or dismissal.
Much like in many situations, he will be unable to choose either.
Leaving him to mourn love.
Not because a love will die, but because he can never let love live.
All because of a look in her eyes,
One silly little look.
His life will never be the same.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Vocabulary Jumble
Weakness,
Desperation,
Insecurity,
Failure,
Ignorance.
Five words that will kill one in practice.
Confidence,
Strength,
Self-Reliance,
Success
Knowledge.
Five words that one can live by in practice.
Lost
Not Found
Found
Not Lost
One's perception of one's self can be worded in ways others may not decipher
Tragedy
Miracle
The vocabulary balance that holds the balance of life
Fault
Responsibility
An ability to effect another life
Lies
Truth
The path of success lies with tiles of truth, the path of success is paved with lies
Conundrum
Confusion will often lead to many different results and consequences
Relief
One will survive
Approach
One can attack, perceive, react, or go dormant
Knowledge
Knowing will lead to success will lead to life will lead to death
Desperation,
Insecurity,
Failure,
Ignorance.
Five words that will kill one in practice.
Confidence,
Strength,
Self-Reliance,
Success
Knowledge.
Five words that one can live by in practice.
Lost
Not Found
Found
Not Lost
One's perception of one's self can be worded in ways others may not decipher
Tragedy
Miracle
The vocabulary balance that holds the balance of life
Fault
Responsibility
An ability to effect another life
Lies
Truth
The path of success lies with tiles of truth, the path of success is paved with lies
Conundrum
Confusion will often lead to many different results and consequences
Relief
One will survive
Approach
One can attack, perceive, react, or go dormant
Knowledge
Knowing will lead to success will lead to life will lead to death
The Boy Who Fell to Hard
The boy who falls to hard suffers indescribable pain.
He finds the best of the worst, and over emphasizes,
Her faults may be many, and her faults may be great,
But the boy who falls to hard, refuses to relent.
She may have a brief glimmer of hope, of great possibility,
However to the common eye, her societal worth is minuscule.
The boy who falls to hard, weighs not worth, but his first impression.
He may have seen her once, and she may have smiled,
That alone, would floor him.
For the boy who falls to hard,
A woman is like a star, if he reaches out to them,
He does not know what to do if he can grasp them.
The boy who falls to hard,
Will convince himself, then try to convince the rest.
She is the one, she is his everything.
She will have other plans,
His naivety is cute, but soon a tired act.
The boy who falls to hard,
Will never see that she is going to leave,
Will never see that pain coming,
Until rock bottom.
He will then not accept that SHE could be at fault,
That SHE could be in the wrong,
The boy who falls to hard, will try to be valiant,
However his valiance, is ignorance, and stupidity.
The boy who falls to hard, will repeat these steps,
He will make these same mistakes,
Because every woman, every girl, is the one.
Her every mistake, her every wrong doing, is overlooked.
Thus making the boy who falls to hard, a criminal
He will rob himself of greater opportunities,
He will sell himself short,
He will give up on his confidence.
He will murder, what little progress he may have had made.
The boy who falls to hard, will inevitably learn.
He will learn the ways of confidence,
Though stumble through the hurdles of arrogance,
Cockiness,
Ignorance,
and,
Being over eager.
The boy who has fallen too hard,
Will push too hard,
Will no longer be walked on,
Will struggle with his new found self power,
He will confess his desires,
He will not give up,
He may make some mistakes,
Hopefully none with major consequences,
Hopefully none will be great sacrifices,
as he begins the endeavor,
To become the man that is wise, and in control of his heart.
He finds the best of the worst, and over emphasizes,
Her faults may be many, and her faults may be great,
But the boy who falls to hard, refuses to relent.
She may have a brief glimmer of hope, of great possibility,
However to the common eye, her societal worth is minuscule.
The boy who falls to hard, weighs not worth, but his first impression.
He may have seen her once, and she may have smiled,
That alone, would floor him.
For the boy who falls to hard,
A woman is like a star, if he reaches out to them,
He does not know what to do if he can grasp them.
The boy who falls to hard,
Will convince himself, then try to convince the rest.
She is the one, she is his everything.
She will have other plans,
His naivety is cute, but soon a tired act.
The boy who falls to hard,
Will never see that she is going to leave,
Will never see that pain coming,
Until rock bottom.
He will then not accept that SHE could be at fault,
That SHE could be in the wrong,
The boy who falls to hard, will try to be valiant,
However his valiance, is ignorance, and stupidity.
The boy who falls to hard, will repeat these steps,
He will make these same mistakes,
Because every woman, every girl, is the one.
Her every mistake, her every wrong doing, is overlooked.
Thus making the boy who falls to hard, a criminal
He will rob himself of greater opportunities,
He will sell himself short,
He will give up on his confidence.
He will murder, what little progress he may have had made.
The boy who falls to hard, will inevitably learn.
He will learn the ways of confidence,
Though stumble through the hurdles of arrogance,
Cockiness,
Ignorance,
and,
Being over eager.
The boy who has fallen too hard,
Will push too hard,
Will no longer be walked on,
Will struggle with his new found self power,
He will confess his desires,
He will not give up,
He may make some mistakes,
Hopefully none with major consequences,
Hopefully none will be great sacrifices,
as he begins the endeavor,
To become the man that is wise, and in control of his heart.
Untitled Thoughts
This question weighs,
Did I make a mistake?
Was that moment misread?
Did I hurt the future of a well laid past?
Perhaps this newest attitude,
Is still to raw and unrefined.
Perhaps there is an inability to read,
What so often never had to be read before.
Was ignorance my blessing?
Is confidence my curse?
I choose to look ahead,
Somewhat assuredly,
Though fearful of retribution,
Of loss.
This loss could be great,
This loss could be epic,
But I tell myself,
This loss will not happen....
....I hope
Did I make a mistake?
Was that moment misread?
Did I hurt the future of a well laid past?
Perhaps this newest attitude,
Is still to raw and unrefined.
Perhaps there is an inability to read,
What so often never had to be read before.
Was ignorance my blessing?
Is confidence my curse?
I choose to look ahead,
Somewhat assuredly,
Though fearful of retribution,
Of loss.
This loss could be great,
This loss could be epic,
But I tell myself,
This loss will not happen....
....I hope
Monday, October 5, 2009
AuToBiOgRaPhY
Twenty eight years ago,
I was nothing more than a helpless babe,
Unable to feed, clothe, or protect myself,
Leaning on two, and soon to be one.
Five years later, life was on a bus,
Traveling to yet another soon to be home,
Only to travel again shortly to another unknown.
Seemingly two years later life had settled into a home,
Not just a house, but a resting place, a future.
All that perfection, all that had been settled,
Torn apart, seven years later.
Unsettling death, an ally disappearing into the dark,
Leading to a painful struggle of a couple more years,
Then
Change
And
Freedom
Three years pass and many friends, freedoms and experiences too,
Then commencement, an achievement marred in a miserable habit,
Alcohol through 18 years of life, and barely a drop to touch my own lips.
As many proceed through the doors of academia,
I passed through the doors of the judicial systems,
In disbelief of a pure mental capability, summonses rolled in, fines paid out
Until rock bottom....
I became a corporate America slave, round and round every day,
Minimum wage became my full and part time lover, twice the duty
Four times the stress.
Months later after many visits, and joking ideologies,
A previous missed opportunity, with a motivation for improvement.
Became a sixty six month endeavor.
Weeks before yet another commencement, tragedy befell,
Leaving the weakest edition, the meekest version, to suddenly fend alone.
Though life stood still it would not end, commencement held greater meaning,
One who had raised me, had become two, who then suddenly became one,
With knowledge and ambition, the professional ranks became home,
Until the frustration of immaturity and laughable ideas became the norm.
One year became two, became hope and motivation, became three.
Being preceded by a life changing journey multiple time zones away.
Twenty seven years in, ideas became hope, hope became method.
A beautiful influence and inspirational motivator, four destinations,
One desired effect.
I sit now, twenty eight years deep, pondering my next step,
Urging to go forth, with the support of many,
But the burning fire of one,
That one,
The only one,
Is the twenty eighth year version,
Of that once helpless babe.
I was nothing more than a helpless babe,
Unable to feed, clothe, or protect myself,
Leaning on two, and soon to be one.
Five years later, life was on a bus,
Traveling to yet another soon to be home,
Only to travel again shortly to another unknown.
Seemingly two years later life had settled into a home,
Not just a house, but a resting place, a future.
All that perfection, all that had been settled,
Torn apart, seven years later.
Unsettling death, an ally disappearing into the dark,
Leading to a painful struggle of a couple more years,
Then
Change
And
Freedom
Three years pass and many friends, freedoms and experiences too,
Then commencement, an achievement marred in a miserable habit,
Alcohol through 18 years of life, and barely a drop to touch my own lips.
As many proceed through the doors of academia,
I passed through the doors of the judicial systems,
In disbelief of a pure mental capability, summonses rolled in, fines paid out
Until rock bottom....
I became a corporate America slave, round and round every day,
Minimum wage became my full and part time lover, twice the duty
Four times the stress.
Months later after many visits, and joking ideologies,
A previous missed opportunity, with a motivation for improvement.
Became a sixty six month endeavor.
Weeks before yet another commencement, tragedy befell,
Leaving the weakest edition, the meekest version, to suddenly fend alone.
Though life stood still it would not end, commencement held greater meaning,
One who had raised me, had become two, who then suddenly became one,
With knowledge and ambition, the professional ranks became home,
Until the frustration of immaturity and laughable ideas became the norm.
One year became two, became hope and motivation, became three.
Being preceded by a life changing journey multiple time zones away.
Twenty seven years in, ideas became hope, hope became method.
A beautiful influence and inspirational motivator, four destinations,
One desired effect.
I sit now, twenty eight years deep, pondering my next step,
Urging to go forth, with the support of many,
But the burning fire of one,
That one,
The only one,
Is the twenty eighth year version,
Of that once helpless babe.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Who am I?
The day grows darker as the sun sets behind the city,
I sit here with nothing more on my mind than, who am I?
Like the sunset, I am fading warmth.
The night sky chases the day away, pushing the sun below the horizon,
I sit here thinking, who am I?
Like the night sky, I am a cloudless, starry-eyed, blanket.
The lighthouse beyond the shore shines brightly warning of nearby rocks,
I sit here pondering, who am I?
Like the lighthouse, I am worldly small, but protection from impending danger.
The mountains are beyond sight and larger than life,
I sit here considering, who am I?
Like the mountains, I am omnipresent, and statuesque.
The ocean shifts calmly, while intermittently disturbing the shoreline,
I sit here pensive, asking who am I?
Like the ocean, I am calming yet naturally violent.
The earth below me, is soft with grass and rough with rocks.
I sit here curious, wondering, who am I?
Like the earth, I am comforting yet abrasive.
The air everywhere is cool and breezy,
I sit here inquisitive, who am I?
Like the air, I am cool, I am hot, I am forever moving.
Life continues, with heartache and struggle, happiness and success,
I sit here understanding the answer to "who am I?"
Like life, I am ever changing, flexible, righteous, and purposeful.
Most importantly,
I am me,
That is the most accurate description,
I can be.
I sit here with nothing more on my mind than, who am I?
Like the sunset, I am fading warmth.
The night sky chases the day away, pushing the sun below the horizon,
I sit here thinking, who am I?
Like the night sky, I am a cloudless, starry-eyed, blanket.
The lighthouse beyond the shore shines brightly warning of nearby rocks,
I sit here pondering, who am I?
Like the lighthouse, I am worldly small, but protection from impending danger.
The mountains are beyond sight and larger than life,
I sit here considering, who am I?
Like the mountains, I am omnipresent, and statuesque.
The ocean shifts calmly, while intermittently disturbing the shoreline,
I sit here pensive, asking who am I?
Like the ocean, I am calming yet naturally violent.
The earth below me, is soft with grass and rough with rocks.
I sit here curious, wondering, who am I?
Like the earth, I am comforting yet abrasive.
The air everywhere is cool and breezy,
I sit here inquisitive, who am I?
Like the air, I am cool, I am hot, I am forever moving.
Life continues, with heartache and struggle, happiness and success,
I sit here understanding the answer to "who am I?"
Like life, I am ever changing, flexible, righteous, and purposeful.
Most importantly,
I am me,
That is the most accurate description,
I can be.
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