The Hallowed Mask.

The Hallowed Mask

The hallowed mask,
This shallow cast,
That rests upon my face

It hides away
The shades of gray
That nothing can erase

But no more lies,
It can't disguise
The thing I truly crave

Its tender sound
I've lost and found,
For I am love's true slave.

Written 10.31.09 @ 11:14 PM

What We Are.

What We Are

Today we are what we love
The sand, the earth, the sky

But love is not enough
And neither am I.

Written 10.30.09 @ 11:48 PM

Autumn Love and Death.

Autumn Love and Death

Another leaf and my heart will burst
[A crimson leaf twirls past.]
Another wind gust and I'll simply faint
[This gust won't be the last.]

My heart is still but fast.

Written 10.29.09 @ 11:49 PM

The Southern Exodus/The Northern Happiness.

The Southern Exodus/The Northern Happiness

They were an ordinary family. Two parents. Hardworking, loving, middle-class, selfless, and aging. Several children, a mixture of boys and a few girls. All clothed, fed, educated, disciplined, respected, and loved. Years back, they decided to take on an adventure together. To move to the north. They felt in their hearts that the journey would erase their troubles and give them new hope. It would change them all. And it did. But in ways different than they dreamed.

They made the move successfully. All their persons were safe and in one piece. But the years to come were not as successful or beautiful as the original dreams that had brought them there. Job losses, prolonged unemployment, illnesses, hospital stays, grandparents passing, high-risk pregnancies, piling bills, sparse groceries, and a crowded apartment. This ordinary family, full of adventure and dreams, was hit with one punch after another. Each one more forceful and gutwrenching than the last. And as time went on, they began to wonder if their daring to dream was worth all this ruin.

But hope can save the anguished soul. One day they got a phone call that their maternal grandmother, who had passed since the start of their adventure, had left a bank account in the name of her daughter. And it had a sizeable sum of money. Not certain but optimistic, they believed it could be enough to buy the family their very own house. The first since their exodus from the south. And they felt that maybe, just maybe, this could be a token of their former happiness. The very kind they unknowingly lost in their climb to the north.

A few months went by, and after seemingly aimless and fruitless house hunting, they innocently stumbled upon a ripe peach one day. It was still young and not quite perfect. But it was bursting with potential. The kind that made their homesick eyes sparkle for the first time in years. Dealing and negotiating was done, and anxiety, worry, and stress was had. But in the end, the seller's gave way. And the family won back a token of their past.

Every day following they spent preparing the house, this new treasure of their lovesick hearts. Cleaning, taping, painting, wiring, building, and tweaking. And minute by minute, day by day, they gained an ounce more of their happiness back. With every scrub, every vacuum, every stroke of the brush, renewed joy seeped its way into their lives. For they finally had the one thing they had so heedlessly cast aside and left behind. The very thing they came in search of, not realizing that it exists not in a place but in your heart. They had a home.

Written 10.27.09 @ 11:53 PM

Like the Wind.

Like the Wind

Today I helped watch my three nephews. The oldest of them, blue-eyed and fair-haired Kason, was walking around quietly with his hands in his pockets - looking somewhat sad for a normally jubilant three-year-old. This is what proceeded:

Kason: "Mom, Dillon's really upset to me."
Lindsay: "Dillon's really upset with you?"
Kason: "Yeah."
Lindsay: "Why is Dillon really upset with you?"
Kason: "Cause I hit his arm when I was running like the wind."

He did it accidentally. And he felt guilty enough to tell his Mama the truth, which means quite a bit. He then apologized to Dillon (who is one of his many uncles), and everything was fine. But this young boy never ceases to amaze me with his brilliant mind and sweet little heart. ♥

Written 10.26.09 @ 6:00 PM

Inner Child.

Inner Child

I am a child, through and through
Time can't take that away from you
My mind is bright with drawings and dreams
And my heart is light with wondrous feelings
Forever and on, whether wrinkled or fair
I will always love, and laugh, and scare
As only a child can truly do
For I am a child, through and through.

Written 10.25.09 @ 11:58 PM

Indebted to Each Other.

Indebted to Each Other

We live in debt
Of many things
Money, courage, love;
Nothing is original,
Only borrowed or reused

We cannot take
Full credit
For the givings in our lives;
No one can truly hide
From the force that we exude

Upon each other

Our lives are part of one another
And we live in debt, together.

Written 10.24.09 @ 10:22 PM

The Brother.

The Brother

Young brother,
Though you loathe
Routine and great control
You must break this hold
Of anger on your soul

Your life
Will outlast mine
In the flurry of our time
So treasure all that's thine
Or else I shall resign

To feeling that my life
Was just a failed design.

Written 10.23.09 @ 11:15 PM

Here We Are.

Here We Are

Air off. Windows up.
Breeze blows in, I'm cool enough.

Eyes closed. Dreams a-brewing.
Heart is pumping, love's accruing.

Feel the earth. Breathe the air.
We're caught here, so unaware.

But here we are, without a care.
Keep us here, without a care.

Written 10.22.09 @ 11:34 PM

Our Wild Hearts.

Our Wild Hearts

Your heart, I hear your heart. Beating there within your chest. Stop and rest, and listen to your heart. It beats so rapidly. I cannot comprehend how something so wild and fast can make us so calm and steady. A wild nature runs through our blood and in our veins. Yet we sustain our calm demeanor. We weren't meant to stay here, living in slow motion. Wild blood flows through our body, and a wild heart pumps in our chests. Don't let us rest. Let us live. Listen to your heart. And live.

Written 10.21.09 @ 11:06 PM

An Opinion on the Color Blue.

An Opinion on the Color Blue

It looked electric like the sky. All four walls, a blazing heaven. They surrounded me, engulfed me, cradled and lifted me into a palace of pure wonder, far beyond earthly dimensions. I was drawn to this spot, over and over again. And forever I would stand within, lost in time and space in this quiet place. It bled joy into my heart and vivacity into my spirit. It electrified my soul. And made my heart feel whole.

Written 10.20.09 @ 11:55 PM

Earth is Love.

Earth is Love

Fertile earth, rebirth me
I want to feel renewed
Aching inside, I cannot hide
From dismal solitude

If only you would grant me
A single chance reborn
To breathe new air, without a care
To have this old flesh torn

From the heart that lies beneath
And waits to beat anew
Grant me your love, I'm not enough
But hope is found in you.

Picture Taken 10.17.09 @ 5:00 PM
Written 10.19.09 @ 11:26 PM

The Wind.

The Wind

The wind blows cold,
And feeling so old,
I lay tightly wrapped in its arms

Time starts to change me,
As I try to brave thee,
And deny its deadliest charms.

Written 10.17.09 @ 9:48 PM

Tonight.

Tonight

So tired tonight
Please hold me tight
The black of night
Can scare me

But morning light
Will make it right,
This endless fight
That shakes me.

Written 10.16.09 @ 11:22 PM

The Realm.

The Realm

I close my eyes,
But the sun still shines;
It can't die in the blackness
Behind their lids,
As I can do

I open them wide,
But the moon is now mine;
It gives birth to the blackness
Of the evening sky,
As I fade into

The realm of the in-between.

Written 10.15.09 @ 11:35 PM

Pain on the Palate.

Pain on the Palate

I taste your pain
It's bitter and poignant
On the bed of my tongue;
But I'll take it for you
And swallow it whole
So your heart won't be stung

By love's grief

This dish, let me have it
For my progressed palate
Has grown to be numb

To life's bitter treats

And to see you reborn
Without scars from love's scorn
Will be all that I need

So give it to me,
And be free.

Picture Taken 6.1.08 @ 12:39 PM
Written 10.14.09 @ 11:43 PM

Getting off the Ground.

Getting off the Ground

Grounded to and by the Earth,
To feel her worth;
She's bounded

Anchored deep down,
To the heavy ground;
She yearns to be liberated

But if she spreads her wings wider,
And lets the wind guide her,
The sky will be her bed

So sleep tight, sweet Flyer,
For tomorrow much higher
Will you soar from this passing dread.

Picture Taken 5.1.08 @ 9:09 AM
Written 10.13.09 @ 11:34 PM

The Child's Face.

The Child's Face

Last night I dreamt I had a child,
Small and newly-born,
But not from my frail womb

He came to me by a brother
Who carried him in his arm
Alongside my bright-eyed nephew

My older kin acted routinely,
But I knew something was different,
This child's face was special and new

So I took him in my arms
Holding our hearts together
And in that moment knew:

He was mine.

Written 10.12.09 @ 9:36 PM

Genetics and Toxins.

Genetics and Toxins

Genetically broken,
The disease is token
In the very life you lead

Breaking down slowly,
You don't respond wholly
To the very drugs you need

So a new one we'll give
In hopes that you'll live
A little more easily

But careful, brave one,
With this new medicine
And its fluid toxicity.

Picture Taken 6.26.08 @ 10:32 AM

Written 10.11.09 @ 11:34 PM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 7.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 7

[This is the LAST installment of the short story... it was never finished. I hope you enjoyed it in some way...]

The next block is the condemned homeless shelter. Closed those down over a decade ago. They don’t want to encourage reliance on others and the feeling of helplessness. They want people to build their strength. To learn to “fend for themselves” and “build moral character.” But how are they supposed to help themselves when the government has blacklisted them, not allowing them to have jobs, get married, have licenses to conceive. They’re keeping them down and they know it. They like it that way. If they give them no help, no outlet, no support, they know they’ll eventually die off. And then, one less ugly duckling to look after. Only the beautiful healthy offspring to tend to now. I hate that. I hate the government.

That’s why I refuse to give up my work. That’s why I teach. Because public education is the next duckling that’s struggling for food. And the government has taken every opportunity to push its face down in the mud. To cut off any form of support or encouragement. But they haven’t killed us entirely. And with all that I’ve lost, this is the last thing that I have to hold on to. And I plan to hold on until the very end…even if it means that I’ll be given to the sun. I’d rather see my body wither in its presence than willingly give up this fight. Because it comes down to the children. The future. The chance for our old world to be reborn – the one where happiness still existed and love and life prevailed. If I could help in its rebirth, then I’d leave this life in peace.

Edited 10.10.09 @ 11:34 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 6.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 6

I walk past the criminal facility on the first block. Takes up three total. Seems to be growing more and more every day. What to do with all these criminals, all these “heathens.” Some say kill them, some say leave them to the sun, others say build bigger facilities. I don’t know which is best. Murder…it’s a terrible thing. I can never condone it. But these buildings, growing larger by the minute. Soon there will be more criminals in the world than innocent civilians. Or do we have it all wrong? Are we all criminals, and the ones in those buildings have just been caught? Are we all guilty of one crime or another? Will we all be collected eventually and there will be no innocents left? Nothing but a world of invalids. That would make us easier to control – to overrun and dominate – would it not? Maybe that’s what they want us to think. That we’re poisoned in the mind, unlawful, sinful, terrible creatures. That we need help. And that they are the only ones who can help us be rid of this plague that we have. Would I be in there soon? The thought scares me.

[...TO BE CONTINUED... only one more installment left...]

Edited 10.9.09 @ 11:52 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 5.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 5

I shower, dress. First undergarments, then slacks, dress shirt. No need for false beauty. No use in playing a doll. Makeup lays untouched. The thought of love’s too painful. Whether it be deep or platonic. So no show to put on. No spectators to be mindful of. I am me. That’s all that matters. Before I leave the quarters, I carefully spray myself in three heavy layers of sun-retardant cover. Grabbing my sun-suit, I exit the building. “Mindful of the sun. And carry on. Carry on.”

It could melt your skin like butter in a frying pan. I never used to believe that old wise-tale. Thought it was just another government ploy to control the masses and poison our minds. That is, until I witnessed it. The most horrifying sight my eyes had ever seen. A man – poor, disheveled, dressed in nothing but rags – leapt into the heat. Penniless and unable to afford the government’s fancy sun-suits. No cover, not even a foolish attempt at using waste bags to hang over his skin, as others had unwittingly done and failed at. And he disintegrated. Right before my eyes. First his hair, like a flaming torch. Then his eyes, which fell from his sockets and melted before they reached the length of his chest. His leathery skin withered away in a matter of seconds. The sun so hot that it didn’t even leave his bodily fluids behind. It was all evaporated, and nothing but the driest of ashes from his bones lay behind. Even those quickly scattered in the sweltering wind and heat. Never again did I doubt the need for sun-retardant cover or suits. Maybe the government did have motives. But obviously, if I wanted to stay alive, I had to play into them.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.8.09 @ 11:55 PM
Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 4

EVERYDAY HAS A BEAT. A pulse. A rhythm. Sometimes I’m in sync with it. Other times I struggle just to move the many bones within my body. Sometimes I ache. Sometimes it’s physical. Many times it’s emotional. But I’ve carried it for so long that it’s ordinary to me. It’s a part of my life. I don’t think I’d feel complete without it anymore. It’s replaced the feeling of happiness that they could once provide me. If I don’t have this aching, I feel as if I have nothing. It’s my key to the door of my past; the link to the chains that surrounded my childhood. And no matter how hard it pulled me or choked me, I couldn’t give it up. It caused me pain, yes. But only because that connection once gave me so much happiness. That’s how it is with anything in life. The purest, most satisfying things are the coldest and most painful to look at once they’re no longer in your possession. But is it better to feel that pain in exchange for that one moment of pure bliss; or is it better to pass it by – unscathed, untouched, and ignorant to such contentment in the world? Is one-time love better than none at all? My mind wanders back and forth, and I can never choose a side. So I try to remain neutral…or at least appear so.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.7.09 @ 11:51 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 3

I place the O₂ Meter on the tip of my rough index finger. It’s formed a callous over the years. Beep, beep, beep. Oxygen: 92. Heart rate: 132.

Damn, it’s sped up again.

I pop two green pills and swallow them dry. I never could do that as a child. I used to be frightened that I’d choke without a liquid to supplement them. But now I do not care. Death does not scare me much anymore. It’s a given. I am going to die, I am going to die. What worries me: my former life and those whom I once had.

Will any of them know? Will they care?

And then I see something I did not think of before.

What if one of them has died? What if all of them have? And I never knew.

Those are the thoughts that frighten me. Not ones of death. But ones of my former self. My former being. My former happiness. Everything I left behind. But another time for that. “Carry on. Carry on.”

I sit within my medic-chair and complete the morning regiment. Three Inhalants: 3 minutes, Vibration Cycle: 2 minutes, Pulmonary Cleansing Cycle: 5 minutes. In a matter of ten-minutes time, I am ready to begin my day. I remember when such tasks would last for one whole hour. Back when I lived with them still. Before the time of global corruption. When all we had to worry about were “terrorist attacks,” “weapons of mass destruction,” and a world leader who couldn’t pronounce “strategy.” I’d give anything for those foolish, innocent times. Because though the world seemed crazy, we hadn’t realized the destruction that lay ahead. And at the time, I had them to help me through it. They were there to guide me, love me, teach me. But now the world is shattering – breaking in every direction. The worst I’ve ever witnessed it. And they’re not here. Nowhere to be found. But if you asked them, they’d say it was my doing; it was my choice. Which I suppose I can’t deny. But we must all grow up sometime. And in doing so, we give up some of life’s greatest pleasures. They were mine.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.6.09 @ 11:55 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 2

I walk into my personal health clinic, down the hall, second door on the right. It’s homebound. Not many can afford these nowadays. Neither can I. I have connections. Illegal ones. My physical condition required my own health center, but they don’t issue those to single, unaccomplished, poverty-line females, especially if they’re teachers. They don’t want to “encourage the unsanitary moral fabric that public education manifests.” Thus we get no funding, no support, and essentially, the slow decay of life that others are given the right to overcome with modern technologies. They figure if we die off eventually, they’ll control everything soon enough. The chance of revolt will be far slimmer.

But I was never one for politics. I gave them up years ago. After the loss of a lover. One who indulged in them to the fullest. Filled his life with political trifles – all the way to the brim. I used to play the part for him. Dinner parties, soirees, meetings, conferences, campaigns, and the like. I thought at first it was for me. I thought I cared. I thought a difference could be made. But then I saw the light – the kind that’s blinding; that you don’t want to look at but can’t help because its beams are so pervading. And it made me realize that it was all a lie. And with the realization of this truth came the loss of my greatest passion, my greatest love. My first love. But I could not lie to myself – I could not be untrue to the deepest of my core – just for love. Such love cannot defeat the everyday troubles that come with difference in ideals. So I took my separate road. And at the next exit, I left behind my passion and his passion. And never again did I involve myself with politics. It was all a sham. As our love had been.

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.5.09 @ 9:18 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

The Attack and the Decay: Part 1.

For the next several entries I will be doing a series of installments of a short story I began a few years ago (but never finished). I hope you all enjoy.

The Attack and the Decay: Part 1

THE RED LIGHT FLASHES. It’s the pulse of my heart. It follows me exactly. Thump-thump-thump. Blink-blink-blink. Thump-thump. Blink-blink. A few more seconds of this and my mind will be forced to wake up from this mummified state. How I hate the mornings now. They used to be my favorite. Back when they meant the smell of bacon, Sunday music, and smiling faces in the kitchen. Those were the good times. But I walk into my cooking area now and see nothing but the cold steel of my cookware. The emptiness of peach-tinted walls. The sad images of a childhood long-gone. I weep inside. But the daily grind leaves no room for sentiment. “Carry on. Carry on.”

[...TO BE CONTINUED...]

Edited 10.4.09 @ 11:55 PM

Originally Written 6.28.06 @ 5:41 AM

Enchanted.

Enchanted

I remember how your face looked when I first met you in person.

We didn’t speak directly, but I felt your gaze on me.

I was instantly drawn to you, even before I heard you speak.

And the moment I heard your voice, some switch in me was flipped.

You were so informal, so familiar, so intimate.

It was as if we had already met, like you knew me from another life.

And it was indescribable, the way you made me feel--

The looks you gave me, the way you stood near me, your tone of voice.

You enchanted me somehow, drew me close and kept me there.

All without ever telling me the truth, without ever being serious.

I still don’t know your true feelings then.

But I know my own.

And every moment I breathe that is not in your presence,

I feel it is a breath wasted.

I long to sense you near and feel your gaze upon me.

I yearn to feel enchanted,

And held within your arms.

Edited 10.3.09 @ 11:31 PM

Originally Written 8.9.05 @ 9:18 PM

Breaching the Circle.

Breaching the Circle

We talk in circles,
We walk in circles
Rarely going anywhere

But there are those who learn the world
And how to cut across it
Rather than spin endlessly around

They do not practice circular talk
Or indulge in roundabout walk
They go where they dare

So break free;
Beware;
But go where you dare.

Written 10.2.09 @ 11:59 PM

Battle of the Seasons.

Battle of the Seasons

Green to orange
Orange to brown
Brown to green
And all around

These seasons of our lives
They cannot be disguised

Today we're fresh
Tomorrow aging
The future is
The war we're waging.

Written 10.1.09 @ 11:51 PM