se
par
ating

himself from the whole.
In his own quiet destitude he relaxes,
away from the noise, light, movement,
into the corner
calm, dark, and slow.
He is a performer, an entertainer of the ears.
Now alone,
into his mind.
Handsome and intriguing.
I paint him in words,
the shadows where he sits, the blackness of his shoes,
the lean of his back against the wall,
his gait as he returns to his work.
Focused and unmoved, confident and happy.
He is gone and my fantasy over.

I wrote this on Valentine's Day. I haven't written in almost a year. It's quite thrilling to finally put something down on paper that I feel is worth reading. Maybe this will be the start of a beautiful friendship between me and poetry, I was once dependent on her and we have since lost touch. Getting reaquinted can be awkward but I think we're off to a good start.

2/9/00 (this as well as the next two pieces are examples of free writing)
Sensation ,
move me so
this way and yonder
high, low
pushed forward
each step muddy with dead weight
going through forward
push push
ahh through the tense air into release
that is so sweet
my tongue can taste theair
like sweet raspberries that pucker my lips
so intense that I fall back into the fog but now it holds me like a cloud
and I bounce back up like a child on a trampoleen reaching for those stars.
Just a taste of excellence makes me soar as a lark through a crisp morning air
and i reach for it once more
achieving this heightened state of me hood.
I am,I can, I will, be.

2/9/00 (free writing continued)
Write, just write I say, see what the pen leaks on it's own,
it could be a tidal wave of words falling into a bluest ocean of skey leaving my room for salvation,
the key lies in you where my heartrests on a pedistalof velvet and rose petals,
I am the desired and I do desire that which I have yet to attain,
someday I will have all that I make come to me in my respect of indulgence.

2/9/00 (last example of free writing)
Words stop and I'm having difficulty thinking what to write.
Sometimes it comes so slowly that words are like molassas sweet but slow coming to the pages.
Dripping no like honey make my hand stick to writing more and more like that saying goes
"Keep up the good work" and go go go,
you're almost there but this work will never be finished until the molasses runs dry from the bottle and turns to vinegar,
but that is only an illusion.

2/9/00
Writing on scraps of paper and envelopes
for all those silent I love yous that I hope to express
I look upon them now with a longing to feel that way once again.

9/99
Me and my shadow stood, and nimbly paced around the room looking for a soul that breathes flower petals.
no luck.
We searched hopefully in you, the man with the smile and sparkling cider eyes, and in the next fellow.
Only to be dissapointed by breathes of air to support just life.
Breathes to love, to see, to know life's own beauty were only taken in by me.
How sad to live so not to die.

8/6/99
There's a spot on my wall,
I can't stop staring
wondering what has stained it,
did it start small or was it always there unknowticed until now
can I get it out? What shall I use,
or should I cover it with a poster or tapestry to deceive the eye,
to ignore the yellow tinge,
the edges are darker than that of the middle,
I'd like to wash the stain away to leave a purely white wall,
but that is not possible,
to start a new without being tainted,
to be shown without fear,
you may find that your wall is stained with the same yellow hew.

9/99
To tell about the burden in my heart could be as potent as exposing one's own warm flesh to a flame,
but none the less this will remain a burden if untild to you.
I fear you may just laugh because to you I may express a fallacy.
Even though this truth holds dear to me.
I see you and like a reflection on water before me shimmers the golden truth that love lies in this heart.
How could I love so soon?
Spun like a top, I've turned head over heals, smitten by you.
The optimism that you hold like a spark to a candle burns bright.
Why should I help but feel this way.
You stroke my hair and I'm calm, you hold me and I'm at ease.
Please don't run from me.
It's killing me not to say the words intended for your ears.
I'm so damn scared
But it will be alright, no matter what
In the night I've wanted to raise these lips to your ear and say these words.
I love you.

Summer of 1999
Family of three and thriving

I saw a mother on a bus the other day.
Child in hand with toys, crackers, a stroller, and a bubba.
So young just a child herself with jewelery, piercings, chains,and a Pantera t-shirt.
They met daddy at a station in New York.
A father in boys clothing, long brown hair, black hat, riding a bicycle.
Mother and daughter greet father with hugs and kisses.
Both younger than I,
Both with more than I.

1999
I screamed and if felt good, that anger released in a firing rage
Hitting the target again and again,
my point had broken and I wanted to be angery.
sobbing on the floor,
hysterics raging,
like a dead flower I wilted.
but I rose like a vine to a fence
I was free and could move again
Love couldnot let me be
but pain is what set me free.

3/5/98
Sacrifice
The most beautiful girl steps into the room.
The eyes turn to behold this vision.
A view of satin skin, emerald eyes, fiery hair and curves like smooth waves,
captivates an audience.
Her presents serene and eloquent.
Men among women pause to meet her gaze.
Women among men Long to know her secrets.
She is escorted on the arm of a jaded soul.
A dance take place to music only heard from within.
The onlookers are hushed, so that the only sound heard are steops the admired make.
The dance is simple,fleeting, and slowing.
Back towards the pitched window,drawing one final look and a flowing breath that's tone
fills the room.
She lifts herself up unto the ledge.
The eyes so appealed pursue her.
Graceful as a crane lengthening her foot she
leans to the stars,
seizes the wind
and falls
away.

Early in 1998
A walking quilt of patches
a billboard of the scene
and then your eye he catches.

With rough safety pins, buttons and spikes
each strategically placed on worn clothing
apathetic to your likes.

Amazed at the opposition stance
a force that is indifferent
but partake in an aggressive dance.

To music of an angry tone
a unity is there
beneith the voicing moan

That governments unfair
but then again they say
that punk is all about hair.

1997
Shivering lips can not recite,
Fingers bleed expression.
In all my breaths in every beat I live for you.
Day after day I wait for, want, need, your calm.
Afraid to let go.
First holding me back from you.
A suffocating heart mends.
Baring a strength not in I take my hand lead the way.
Let your eyes carry me away.
Sorrowin my eyes, tension deepens.
Soft lips on frozen flesh.
Make me numb.
Looking into your eyes I realize thatmy inspiration, my passion, my love lies in you.
My beautiful love.

1997 (free writing)
Hurt
focus
tear me inside out; twist me in unspeakable ways
turning, sick
I can't lose him, I won't leave him
convulsions
make me break
hush
slander words to own self worth
sides may be formed
tremble
protect
the case a cause
guilt prosecutes the innocent
stricken voice
shatter my defense
my mis take
drain
a noise of fear
like a slap across the face
flash memory
make him pay for all his worth
beat my mind
crush this soul
lie
built on pain
exploit
it will never end
tomorrow

1997 (free writing continued)
sit
sitting in a dark room spinning
spin
spinning so i'm turning
turn
turning upside down cluthcing
clutch
clutching the bottom of the chair
the spinning abruptly stops
as the door flys open
bringing light
so blinding to thy eyes
burn
burn
burning red a torch lit flame a glow with aster filling all the crevices
I've heard them talk of you before
nasty comments
snickering screams
and then a quiet.
a quiet so quiet
to quiet
hold
hold
hold me back
let the anger pour out through my ankles
bloody blue substance secretes
drink they blood from a cup
revise the life
and take my own.

Had enough mush?