Repeat it enough

Do you ever repeat a word over and over and over until it loses all sense of meaning and you wonder what the hell happened and how and why did someone put these random letters together to form this word and make it mean this abstract thing. How do these random letters pushed together convey the concept that is this word. And how after the 1,000 repetition it still means nothing.  Tonight that word is enough, enough, enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough I am not enough. enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough I am enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough enough

Time and Tides

I lost myself
On a beach on some foreign shore
Walking on distant streets

I lost myself
While looking for the shapes in clouds
While watching the heavens circle

I lost myself
While the snow fell around me
While I listened to the rain

I lost myself
In the warmth of the sun
While wrapping myself in scarves

I lost myself
And with every breath
I forgot a little more of who I am

I lost myself
While trying so desperately to find something real
Seeking, reaching, searching

I lost myself
While trying to make something of... myself
While trying to fill this body with experiences

I lost myself
To time and tides, oceans and clouds
To cherry blossoms and rain

I lost myself
With words and music
With love and beauty and pain

I lost myself
And now that I know I am lost
I can begin to find myself again

God of the Television

God of the television
offers 1.800 toll free confessions
                        he'll even send you a free pamphlet
on repentance or maybe acceptance
                        and all is forgiven
For no money at all
                        you just need to call!
Just call and confess
                        did we mention the free pamphlet?!
absolved of your guilt
                          by a voice mailbox
probably in Tibet

One Small Voice

My response to an overwhelming situation
is to withdraw, because once again i am heartbroken
Every day brings a new death
another person taken from this world
for no other reason than hate and fear

And i am but one small voice
in the tide of outrage
I'll keep my anger in check
and give you nothing but love
while tears run down my cheeks
and my heart breaks over and over

Fear and anger does not solve hate
only love and a strong will to survive.

Blue Ink Ants

They left the room. I didn't see them, but I knew they were there and then gone.

They left me a blue pen and one piece of paper. I opened the pen and pressed the tip to my fingers, the blue ink spreads like the red ink in my veins does when they cut me open. It's been so long like this, ten times dark and shadows and more, I lost count after a while. And I wonder if the next breath will bring something new. There are endless possibilities outside window they say - who ever they are - But I am here behind these walls, with only my small window for light.

I lift the pen from my fingers and press it to my wrist. If I hold it just right it makes pretty drop shapes and runs like ants down my arm. I lift my arm and turn it so blue ant drops can make paths all the way as far down my body as I can make it until it plops, splat, dead on the floor. Never mind, I lift the pen to make another ant drop somewhere else, making criss-crossing paths and many dead ant drops around me on the floor until there is no more pen blue ant drops and the window is dark.

If I lie still and breathe silently I can hear other things beyond the wall hum and hiss. I feel more then I hear though, vibrations while I lie on the floor, the scurry of blue ant drops as they slide away under and outside my window. What is outside? Why do shadows slide across the window? Sometimes they linger making tap tapping, any noise apart from the hum is not unwelcome. But they make the thing in my chest move and shift, and I jump up to the window, too late. I can't reach anything anyway, so what does it matter that I even try, but I sometimes see faded blue ink outside so I jump and jump.

Apart from that, all there is, is sleep, blue pen, one sheet of paper and time for more blue ant drops to run on my skin. There are no words on the paper. I write on my body (between the ant trails), I draw stories on top of stories, they get smeared and faded over time, but I can remember each one of them. Every bit of space that I can reach is criss-crossed blue. In some places, so heavy that once dried, it flakes off leaving bare patches like when you pull bark from a tree. I have wrapped myself in a bark of blue ink and stories. Only my back, the place I cannot reach to write, is free from the stories. But not free from the ink ants and their trails or from the scratching of my blue fingers. I drag them across my back so my skin becomes bark. The only story my spine tells is one of pain, I don't need to write it to know.

I've never seen a tree, but I know they exist. They walk outside my window, I think the trees are the ones that cast the moving shadows and the tap tap tapping at the edge of my hearing. The trees have branches like mine (though made were made by the blue ant drops). I dream that one day they will reach themselves through the window and wrap me in twigs and leaves and bark. I think it is called an embrace. The animal in my chest shifts when I think about this, it gets restless and runs. It runs and runs so fast that I have to breathe fast to keep up, it runs and runs but always stays inside me, I don't know where it is trying to run to. If I could, I would reach inside and eat it to make it stop all the run running. This useless creature inside me, I think it has long branches as well because after run running it reaches down in my chest squeezes out my air. I gasp and the room spins, then the floor pulls me down and I sleep.

They came and took my pen, they would have taken the paper as well, but I ate it. The paper is inside me now so now I can fill it with blue ant branches, and memories of the tree fingers.  I can tell the stories to my chest animal, I tell it stories to make it quiet and stop its run running. It gets so scared because there are no more blue ant drops and because more and more bark comes off my skin and when that happens there will be no more stories. So it run runs and reaches down with branch fingers and squeezes out my air.

Before they took my pen away,  I was running out of body paper so I had written stories on the bottoms of my feet, they were so blue blue that I could print walk them across the floor and the walls like I was running up the walls to the window to look out. I cant jump anymore, my chest animal wont let me, I'm stuck on the floor with the dead ant drops and my bark peeling bit by bit. Soon there will be no more blue and I will be new again with fresh space for write dreaming and ant drops. The trees walk past the window, more light and shadows than I can count. I have forgotten all my stories.

Today they left me a green pen.

Distance Between The Darkness

We left the stars
and the long dark night
for the bright lights of the city
only to miss the deafening silence

We loved too much and ran too far
we forgot ourselves among the lights
we chased the light around the sun
and back again to find the same stars
waiting for our return

These city streets and colored lights
are beautiful in their own way
but nothing like the unfettered night sky full of galaxies
and the distance between the darkness

Solve for X

What is the weight of love?
Does it have mass?
Does it have density?
Does it have shape or volume?

If we say love weighs heavy our heart?
Exactly how much does it weigh?
An ounce, kilo, stone, or pound?
Or maybe one ounce too many,
Until it breaks.

What do we mean when we say love lifts us up?
Does it defy the laws of gravity making us lighter?
If gravity is the force that attracts two bodies together
What then, is the force of love?
Does this mean that love is gravity?

How do we measure love?
Is it measured in mills or grams?
Or is it length, distance or size?
I will love you for 5000 miles, but not one more inch?

If my love for you is great?
Greater than what? The sum of us, our separate parts?

Does love have volume?
If it cannot be contained within a cup
or in the palms of my hands
how can it then be contained within a heart?

Does love have shape or form?
Can I hold it and touch it?
How can I shape love into something
I can hold and touch and feel if it has no form.

How can we calculate love?
Is there a formula to quantify and qualify?
Can we solve for X?
And find out how much we love each other?

How much do I love you?
I don't know. I'm not good at math.

Strawberry Solstice Kisses

Lonely little firefly
in the darkness of the night
flashing your love
to this viewers strange delight

A strobe of little kisses
to the strawberry solstice moon
your love won't last forever
your glow extinguished by the gloom

This is a promise

I'm going to tell you i love you
And i'm even going to mean it
If you don't think this message is for you
Then you'd be wrong

I LOVE YOU

I'm going to tell you something else
Next time i see you
And it could be a really really long time from now
(because there's no time limit on these sorts of things you know)

I'm going to smile and laugh
And throw my arms around you
With wild and joyful abandon
(please consider your self duly warned)

And as i pull you into my embrace
I will tell you again
(my dear and lovely friend)

I LOVE YOU

This is how (bad things happen)

With baited breath
             we watch and wait
We watch as the world turns
             and changes around us
We wait and do nothing
             we watch and shake our heads
We just wait to see what happens
            letting it all pass us by
We exhale
             letting out the collective sigh
We wonder why
             bad things happen to good people as
We watch and wait
              and still do nothing
Waiting for someone else
              to change the world
Watching for someone else
              to stand up and make a difference
Because what can we alone achieve?
              so we watch and wait

A Vagabond

I am a vagabond
a drifter with out rails
I am a clipper
a vessel without sails
I am a hopeless romantic
an optimist of sorts
I am a vagabond
I let my life take it's course

I am a thief
a taker of hearts
I am a pirate
I break things apart
I am a sailor
without ship or sea
I am a vagabond
who wants to be free

I am a wanderer
without chosen path
I am a swagman
who's swag didn't last
I am a rambler
Looking for lee
I became a vagabond,
without meaning to be

Late night ramblings

There is something else i want to say, but i can't quite seem to find the words. A sentiment that lies hidden or buried, waiting to be expressed, something about change and friendship or love and living between two places. Something about the clouds and rain and the touch of your skin, something about the colour of the sun light in winter and how summer always ends. Something about the feeling of losing what was never mine to begin.  And if i were a poet I'd have the rhyme to say,  I'd write the words to touch a nerve and wish my heart away. But I am a dancer who's limbs can no longer express, i have lost the agility to convey the depth of sentiment and feeling. The only thing i know is there is a choice and there is cake, there is pleasure and pain, there are meaningless words on paper and the slow dance in the rain. There is the cold that creeps into my bones, there is the life with you and the one i have when i am alone. There are two people here inside this body, and they live and love and laugh differently, they have two homes. I know the person in the mirror is sometimes not me, but is a reflection of who i think i am. This is just the night talking, i am half asleep.

Mercury in Retrograde

(This is a work in progress)

We look to the heavens for some kind of sign

We look to the heavens only to find

The planets moving backwards

And the stars have re-aligned

We ask our selves what happens now

Only to find, Mercury the messenger

Is out of his mind

The stars can’t tell us everything

Or anything if you don’t believe

Plans go awry, and I want to know why

And I’m told it’s because of Mercury

Mercury traveling backwards through the sky

If we find our fortunes in the stars

Is the future really ours?

Why do (why would) we put our faith in the heavens,

When the planets move backwards and stars fall to earth

I'd write you a love song, but I'll tell you a lie 
I'll say this was a missed connection just another masquerade, 
and ill say it was because of the positions of the planets
I'll blame  it on Mercury, Mercury in retrograde

I’ve made some bad decisions

I’ve caused a lot of strife

Has Mercury been in retrograde,

my whole, my whole life?

I don’t want to be angry

But my mind is already made

We’ll blame it all on Mercury,

Mercury in retrograde

Mercury is the messenger

And the message has been lost

He’ll blaze backwards across the sky

At least from one point of view

His winged feet slowed and passed

Over ground already covered

The past returning for another view

This is a time for reflections

And I’m reflecting on you

I didn't know these mistakes were going to be made

But I blame it all on Mercury, Mercury in retrograde

Lying to my self is second nature, my stock and trade

I blame it all on Mercury, Mercury in retrograde

We look to the heavens for some kind of sign

We look to the heavens only to find

The planets moving backwards

And the stars have re-aligned

We ask our selves what happens now

Only to find, Mercury the messenger

Is out of his mind.

Absolved of my problems

When I look to the sky

I blame it all on Mercury

Mercury in retrograde.

Satellites and Stars

Shooting stars remind me
that the sky can fall at any time

And satellites
know the heavens better than most

The sun will burn
bright before it bursts

A million million
tiny pieces of exploding light

The moon will split open
and oceans rise forever

Rain will fall
in places dry of everything but tears

Rivers run wild
in spite of all our fears

Pearls of forgotten wisdom
found in oysters that will never be eaten

My hands lie still
skin broken spirit bruised but not yet beaten

yet I still wish upon the falling stars
and trace the satellites as they burn across the sky
I'll shield my eyes to the sun
and run into the ocean
I'll bury my hands in the earth to make it green

All things end
and all things begin again it seems

The Witching Hour

I woke again at 2am, it seems to be my witching hour. The time at which the veil lifts and things are revealed. Not every night, but enough to be notable I wake and remember my dreams. Or just for a moment as my eyes open I see what is not meant to be seen. The dark figures standing in the corner, the demons and angels writhing on my ceiling. I try to convince my self that this wasn't real, if I don't believe in heaven or hell why am I visited by angels and demons?

The muse visits at this time as well, you either catch her, holding fast and let her carry you to inspiration or she slips through your fingers, passing back through the veil to caress another, hounding them with her influence. Her need is incessant and you must pay attention for she is a slippery creature, vein and full of pretensions full of gifts but easy to upset. She visited last night, but didn't stay long enough for me to take hold of her.  I only got so far as this...

Everything and Nothing

With everyone watching
no-one will see
how i fall in love
when your hips shift to mine

Our hearts beat rhythms
syncopated time to music
breath leaves our lungs
in controlled bursts

We will dance
and it will be
everything and nothing
within the circle of our arms

View from the Train

The river once wide and deep is now full of yellow weeds. Reduced to nothing more than a sluggish stream, the water has gone to feed the mostly fallow plots of land that line both side of the train tracks upon which i travel. There are no people here, just signs of recent life newly abandoned or waiting for their return.  Twilight casts shadows in the windows of the dark houses, too dark to see if some one has returned home.

A carpet of tall yellow weeds, a cherry tree in faded bloom in the middle of a small field. As we pass i wonder who will eat the Cherries?

A small shrine at the back of an old house, faded flowers adorn the vases.  The grass is long, and i wonder if anyone thinks about the dead buried here. If i pass this way again will the shrine still be there? Will it have been replaced by a shiny new apartment building? Or will i be looking the other way when we pass by and like everyone else forget to look for the long buried dead.

What i like about riding in trains is the brief glimpse into the lives of others. The backs of houses are exposed to the tracks we get to see what people hide from view, the parts they keep hidden and private.  I love these brief back lit vignettes, these stolen private moments illuminated by the train as we pass by. I'll cup my hands to the windows to see a little better in the fading light and darkness. I'll see you, just for a moment, and then you remain frozen in time forever as we pass quickly by.

Left Hand of the Devil

Unbeknownst to me

The devil borrowed my left hand last night

I woke up and my wrist and hand was sore 

From doing god knows what.

Be careful what you dream

You never know if it became reality in sleep

Or maybe i was fighting in another world

Or dancing with the ghosts of friends

Was it a dream? 
Now i don't know
Did i dance with you in your sleep last night?
Because i think my hand hurts from holding you.

 

Claws became fingers

When no one was looking we shed our skins
cat like we clawed our way into another
believing that this new skin was better
believing that if we could walk two legged
we would become more than we once were

Our eyes no longer feline
we couldn't see in the dark
we missed the stalking of prey
we missed the night chases
we missed the call of conquest
we wanted out out of these new skins
only to find our senses had dulled
and our claws became fingers

Elsewhere

How many days have I existed in this space of nothingness
These hours without end -  this time without name

When everything else has been quantified
This gap still exists - or do we make it
Every time we cross a country or continent

Here I am pushing my way through the fabric of the world
Digging my fingers in and stretching time
While hold has been placed on the rest of my life

This is neutral territory - crossing oceans and above the clouds
This is some where between and if i had to name it
I'd call it elsewhere

Lady by The Lake

She is a fickle hearted lover
but i care for her like no other
full of Spring time promise
and warm presumptions
She tempts me with her verdant green
her waters so inviting
kisses me sweetly with lake side mists
a blustery embrace of wind
through streets recently bereft of snow
salty are her ways in winter
yet my lips are ready for her summer taste

A Country of Our Own Making

You held onto me
while the shadows shifted
and the light crept in through the blinds
wrapped tightly in my arms
you ran a marathon in your sleep
your body flexed and pulsed under my hands
jolted half awake you pulled me closer
and whispered words i didn't understand
This night was a dream
a half reality of stolen moments

We are together somewhere else
in a country of our own making
Because on foreign soil
we can be anything we want
And pretend for a short time
that our lives are different
full of wonder and excitement

We are new people here
discovering ourselves in this new land
laughing as we walk in these strange directions
getting lost among winding streets with no name
kissing in the darkness while rain falls around us

Upon returning home
we may find all things new again
yet some things remain unchanged
The sun has shifted while we were gone
the light seems different now
We opened our eyes
and you let me go.

Beloved

Is it strange to hear me say i love you?
It is not the romantic kind of love, but it is love
There was a piece of myself missing
There were so many pieces missing
And i didn't even know it
Until i found them again in you
And suddenly i am more because of you
You don't need to say anything in return
I know how you feel, and that is enough
But don't shy away or retreat when i say
You are beloved of me, my cherished one
You are the tether to my wandering soul
You are the anchor to my fugitive heart
You are dearest to me

Reading me

This book is nothing more than an old paperback. I don't remember where i got it. But the pages are yellow and worn from reading. The cover is creased and the spine broken. The ink, once crisp, has spread and become indistinct. The words however, remain sharp - cutting me to my core.
     I am here in these pages, lost. Waiting for you to read me alive again, to breathe life and feeling into this body of vanishing text. My skin is paper and these words are written in indelible ink upon me. The printing of which left faint scars, if you read closely you can see them.  What i have discovered between these pages -  between each beat of my heart- is that I am trapped, trapped here in sentiment that holds nothing new. Everything has already been said, written, and done before, it may be new to us, but that does not make it new.
    So how do we continue? If we skip to the last page what happens? Will we learn the lesson inscribed and not make the same mistakes that are printed like a warning in these yellowed sheets? Or do we read each page in order and fool ourselves into thinking we are at the edge of a new discovery? Or is it enough to let the story unfold beneath our fingers and say this is new to me.

Things remembered

Blue sky moon in the middle of the day
washed out sky sun bleached
I remember watching it rise full silver bright
I remember the smell of sunshowers
steam rising from the road
watching it evaporate into sticky humidity
and sweat on our skin

The asphalt melted beneath our feet
We measured the lines of caterpillars as they
went where ever they were going
We searched for ant-lions in tiny dust bowls
and came home covered in mud
We ran outside until the sun kissed our skins bronze
and washed the colour from our hair

I miss the smell of summer on my skin
I miss the time of not caring
where one day ends and another begins
And I miss you my friend
because I don't know where you have gone

I

i'm not sure i can leave
because i'm pretty sure
I've already gone
last night, and every night
has the air of goodbye
and each day is a jail sentence
waiting for the eloquence of darkness
we all slide down
lost into reflection
and lost is the key
when you don't belong
inside or out
mind, body and soul can't make a decision
heart and skin want desperately to part
blood has set it's self free
to run with the tears
rushing to meet the river

(Found in a book, written by my hand dated 1998. I don't remember writing this)

Floatsam

I've been lost at sea

kissed by the current
as it pulled me under
embraced by the waves
tumbled and rolled by undertow
gasping for breath one last time
sinking face up
watching the watery sun fade from view
warm in your embrace
for a while at least

the ocean doesn't care for the sand on the beach
as it constantly reaches out
grasping, pulling, pushing
grinding the greatest of rocks to grit
stealing one grain at a time
to be lost to the deep
or deposited on some distant shore

or i am floatsam on your waves
broken from something larger
left to drift the shifting continental plates
lost somewhere between the edge of the sea and the glowing sky

Sliver Moon

Fog rolls in
Casting shadows dark and dim
The city concealed
Light reflects
Nothing beyond the line of trees
Barren branches
Clinging to mist like leaves
Water lapping
Lakes edge shrouded beneath
All is grey
World drained of colour and light
Pallid dusk approaches
Followed by starless night
Knife like sliver moon
Cuts me open
I'll bleed out this twilight

The Devil Called Whiskey

Take me to the river
Lead me there to drink
Tell me your secrets
Leave me there to think

Wrap me in water
Wash away my fear
Lead me to the water
But don't take me near

The devil called whiskey
    made me this way
The devil called whiskey
    led me astray
The devil called whiskey
    wrapped me in your arms
The devil called whiskey
    took away my qualms

Some things aren’t forgotten
Some thing we can’t forgive
No water will wash the sense of regret
Of a life not fully lived

It's no secret I'm not a good girl
But it's clear I'm not bad either
But I just can't shake the feeling
It's probably not the drink

The devil called whiskey
   when i answered your call
The devil called whiskey
   wasn't with me at all
The devil called whiskey
   come take me away
I'm the devil called whiskey
   i led you astray

The same old lie

It was just a small lie to bide my time
I've been waiting to see what happens

Maybe it was just one side of the truth
Or the other side of the same old lie

It all seems like a dream
Because once again
I have mistaken truth for fiction

Cry to the wind

We cry to the wind
What will become of us?
The wind whips the words from our lips
As if they were never spoken

We turn our backs
And it pushed us forward
We face it head on
And struggle into the blowing gale

We lean into it
Without warning it becomes still
And we fall to the ground
We cry to the ground
What will become of us now?

tiny bits of paper

i'm holding you together
with shiny tape and tiny bits of paper

i'm holding you together
with willful ignorance and a sunny disposition

i'm holding you together
with long distance calls and random silly photos

i'm holding you together
with pieces of myself

i hope they are enough
because i have little else to give.

In Transit

Waves of clouds
and the rapidly approaching dawn
Dark sky gives way
to stratified blue
I'm in transit somewhere over an ocean
I'm leaving home
I'm coming home
I'm coming back to you
I've traveled through time
and back again
Hurtling through the ether
in a shiny tin can
I don't think about the wings
or the engines pushing me forward
I just watch the rolling clouds
and count the hours until I'm home

An Apology of Sorts

I didn't know what it was like to be someone else
until I tried
Now that I think back on it, it wasn't the best idea
But it was worth a try at the time
And in being someone else
I fell in love, it wasn't with you (i'm sorry)
It was with the other person that was being me
And now that I am myself again
I am sorry that you feel I hurt you
But in my defense, I wasn't myself at the time.

Unremembered

We pretty things
We broken dolls
We out grew favor
And wore out love

We are unremembered poppets
We are lost treasures
We have forgotten pleasures
Our luster has dulled with time

Where once you played
And loved, and kept us close
Now we lie in dust
Past our prime
Too new to be vintage
Too old to be cool

You may have forgotten
But by us, you are remembered

The Laughter of Birds

At dawn and at dusk
They laugh at us
They laugh at us as if to say
You strange un feathered birds
Why don't you just fly away?

And at midday
They sit from the trees
Watching and waiting
To see if we leave
They land on the fence posts
Coming close just to see

These strange un feathered birds
Why won't they leave?

For we in our boxes
Our gilded cages
Clipped of our wings
And chained to our things
Think not of the laughter of birds

Dreamstate

Where were we when the night called?
    Restless in our beds
Listening to the sound of frogs
    After the rain had fallen
Wondering if this was anything more 
    Than just a dream
A few words spoken out of turn
    I didn't know you were listening
Sleepless nights thinking of stories
    To tell in the dark
Dreamless days spent waiting
    For sleep to take us back
I've been waiting in this dreamstate
   It seems like forever
Thinking over conversations
   We will never have
When I see you in the daylight
    I'll not remember
These words were spoken in sleep
    I'll be angry with you
For not having remembered

A song while dreaming

Now when you're hungry
    or sleeping, or dead
Locked in the branches away

Awake for the moment
    in fear and in dread
Wrapped in your arms away

Lost of the memory
   and falling asleep
Counting the moments
   till death do us keep

Climb the branches
     they'll keep us safe
 Climb the branches
     and no one will see  
Climb the branches
    away from the fear

Some things are not forgotten
Some things we can not forgive
The life that was taken
Was not mine to give

So we'll climb the branches
    they'll keep us safe
Stay locked in the branches away

Left with this memory
    this fear
    this regret
I wept for myself
Now nothing is left.