untitled (again)

My brain, it feels the strain
I try to stop the flood
the crud is rushing in
In like a swarm of bees
Oh, my god, I am allergic to bees
they will kill me
I try to get away
they follow me
the bees
the crud
like a huge mudslide
It covers me
the mud
I am covered in the crud
Do I need a shovel
or a new pen?
Where do these thoughts come from
where do they begin
I try to write about love, and flowers
but I just don't have the right power
the power to see, the brighter side of me
I long for the sun to shine
I want to make the happy thoughts all mine

Kansas

This is one of my favorite songs in the whole world. If you read the words without listening to the music, it's kind of cool. I think a lot of people can relate to the words in this song. The song is Dust in the Wind, by Kansas

I close my eyes
only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind,
All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Now, don't hang on
nothing last forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money, won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind

Live in the moment everyone. Nobody ever knows what tomorrow will bring your way. Love as often as you can, and never take anything for granted. This song, along with certain events in my life. Have taught me this. Please, absolutely stop and smell the roses!

HARSH WORDS

The words are sharp
They cut my skin like a knife
Kind of like a hot, sharp knife cutting through a helpless square of pale yellow butter
I try to stop them, those awful, relentless words
The words won't stop
They are swift and harsh
Cutting and burning
Cutting through the thick, tense air
Sharp and direct
When will it stop
when can I heal
help me heal the wounds
Help me stop the words

For Today

The following is a small poster that hangs on my fridge. I read this every morning.

For today, I will embrace life
For today ,I will make the best out of my circumstances
For today ,I will celebrate the joy of simple things
For today, I will learn something new
For today, I will be a better person
For today, I will reach out to someone in need
For today, I will be thankful
For today, I will dream with my eyes open
For today, I will laugh
For today, I will encourage a friend
For today, I will use my imagination
For today, I will relax
For today, I will listen
For today, I will take time......

Wartime

I can't stand anymore pain. I can't take it anymore
the death. People dying every day.
Why, why are we still there
Villages blowing up like firecrackers on the fourth of July
Meaning nothing to nobody
who will care
who will save the world
the fire and lightning
the dirt and heat
I don't want to see anymore
I can't stop seeing
It comes at me from everywhere, taking over my thoughts and creeping into my brain like a bug with millions of little legs. A lightning fast bug, a bug you just can't stop
why does one god have to be better than another god, how can something pure and good lead to hate and terribleness. Awful thoughts of rage. The rage turns you red in the face, red like a vine ripe tomato in the august sun.
We need to stop the hate!
How do we stop the hate?

I am drowning in a sea of doubt
I need help to get out
Out of the daily grind of things
The unwinable race called life
I am drowning in my own words
they swirl around in my head like a tornado
Around and around they go
where the words will stop
I don't really want to know
I don't want to rhyme anymore
something propels me foreword
fast and crazy into the darkness
wicked and wild
I spill out into the night
into the darkness again
oh no the words are coming back
only to begin again

To Bren

My child, sweet child
Happy and wild
With green eyes and brown hair
He is my air
Kisses and hugs
To laugh, and to love
My rock
My bridge
A gift from heaven above

Do you see

Where is the child
can you see
where is the youth
that I used to be
where did it go
how can this be
the child in me
the youth that used to be
Now I look in the mirror
and what was once free
is chained to a life
that cannot be set free
can you see
can anyone see
Oh, please say you see
the youth I used to be

Alone

Have you ever just sat , you know, have you ever found a quiet place to sit where there was nobody else. Nobody could find you. You could just bask in the serenity of your own thoughts. Not all of the thought that were thrown at you by somebody else's thoughts.
Have you ever wanted the earth to open up and just swallow you. Not just a piece of you, but the whole thing .
I oftentimes sit and look at the water. I wonder what the water is thinking, what is going on under the smooth calm black and blue surface. Yes, thinking. You know, the earth and all that is on the earth, even the water. There is a pulse, a heart beat. Everything we come into contact with every day of our lives has a heartbeat. Everything is alive, right? It has to be, Right?
Have you ever wanted to fly. Not really fly, but just kind of float above the crowd. What would we do if we could float above the crowd? If you could see, if you could get above and REALLY see what it was like to be free. Free of thinking like everybody else. Would you ever really want to join the crowd again?
What would it be like if we could turn off our brains. You know, just kind of throw a switch and have all of the jumbled up thoughts go away. Even if just for one day. What would happen to our brains if we could stop thinking. Even for one tiny meaningless day. Would our brains explode, or would our brain die of loneliness. Do you think that is possible, you know, to die of loneliness.
Do you think if we had absolutely no thoughts at all, our grey matter would dry up and blow away. You know, kind of like when a brilliant yellow and green dandelion dries up in the fall and all of the grayish white fuzzy petals just kind of blow away in the winds of autumn. What would happen to life as we know it if the thought process just kind of stopped.
I am sitting, and I am thinking, you know, sitting and thinking. All alone with my wild thoughts. I call them "wild thoughts" because there are always so many of them all at once. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you could easily sort out those thoughts. You know, kind of sort them out into categories.
Oh well, just a thought.

tears

Do you cry and cry
And your not sure why
Hot, salty tears on your face
Are they tears of joy, or are they tears cried in agony
Do your tears cut the skin on your face like the razor sharp blade of a shiny silver knife
Or do your tears simply trickle down your cheek like crystal clear streams of blue ocean water
Do you hide your tears
Or do you let your tears show
Does anybody know you cry
or do you cry alone

Hate

scattered and surreal
thoughts of rage
Crazy rage, red and black
streaming and screaming
why such anger
why such hate
to hate, to hurt
it is like a sport
who, where and why
why?
why!

My Ode to E-bay

Shoes and socks
Shipped in a box
pants and skirts
black and blue shirts
e-bay, oh ebay
whatever you need
A few clicks of the mouse
You can even buy a house
a car, a bike
whatever you like
shop in good cheer
for, you will allways find it here

Untitled

I am falling from the heavens, wait , was I ever in the heavens to begin with
I think I am just falling from a chair
Maybe I thought I was in heaven
Is there such a place
I think we are all in hell on earth
HELL ON EARTH
shit, it has to be up from here, right?
I worry sometimes about this
Will I go up when I die, or will I go down
What is down
And what the hell is already down there
And if there really is a hell after life
where am I right now

untitled

Mercy
hides openly
in the huge, very loud crowd
lost of pushing and shoving and very loud
flowers are so pretty in the summer
as the sun lays warmly upon the water
I see the beauty within
even though your really ugly
I still lke the mole on your face
especially the three hairs
that were so long
and curly
lovingly and close
careing the most
Divorce is the best
then you are free for the rest of the women
I need a beer
with a couple of babes

My years of old

Let me tell you, I could write a book about my old job. I worked in a nursing home for fifteen years, The things I experiened there. OH my god. I absolutely love the old people. I learned so much from the people that I used to take care of. I once took care of a woman that use to perform in Burlesque shows. Boy did she ever have some interesting stories to tell. I don't think the elderly are treated fairly in this country at all. I wish I could do something to change that.