Creativity

Daily Dose of Creativity
Here are some little creative tidbits from my brain.

How can a world so full of love be
full of so much pain?
How can I grow when I can't move?
When does this life start?
I need to write because I'm confused-
but I can't write because I'm confused.
A cycle of crap, really.

She opened herself up, waiting with
eyes closed for the final blow. When
none came, the pain was worse than
if it had.

Once you give it up, you see it never really
mattered anyway.

Sad songs only apply when you want to
be sad. Do I want to be sad? I must.

If I fell asleep, would you wake me? Would
you shake me gently and whisper? Would
you let me sleep? Would you sigh, watching
me?

Somehow summer made everything better.
You were not mine, I was not yours.
We were together, separately, inseperably.
How could we not have let each other in?
How divine that would have been.
Now fall creeps in behind a breeze and
alerts us to the passing time unspent.
It's not too late. But soon it will be.

What did he say? I missed it. And by
the look on his face I can tell it would
be worth hearing a million times.

Why does my mind have to interfere
with my intentions? Why must I think
at all except to think of you?

You only need to examine your situation
when you start applying songs to
yourself. For once you define your
situation with a song, there's no turning
back.

Would you love me more if I could form coherent sentences?

If these walls really had eyes, I would be
frightened. But seeing as how they
are inanimate, there is no cause
for alarm.

Arrogance looks good on you. This is not
a good thing.

God forbid I say the wrong thing and
appear to actually need you.

Sometimes life is too much to bear. Yet we
bear it anyway. We are a race of stupid lemmings happily awaiting what
lies just beyond the cliff.

My mind is this pulsing glowing thing that
is never still and if I unraveled it before
you, you would shrink back for fear of
being too close

Is it better to have the pain replaced by
this cynicism? I feel stronger, anyway.

All writing is pretentious. Because our
goals of good writing are so above us,
it all comes out as vain babbling.

Nothing is ever fair; that has not been so
apparent to me as it is now. And yet
somehow, I still hope for better things in
the future.

Her pose seemed unnatural. He didn't know
it was natural for her. She hated herself.

In a flash of light, it was ruined. He had
ruined it for her and she hated him for
it. It hadn't been his to ruin but he'd
done it anyway. She looked at her empty
hands and envisioned them wrapping around
his white throat.

Was she selfish to shut the rest of the world out? Or was it simply for survival?

Over time, he was less and less able to feel. Eventually there was only anger, that ugly red-blackness that inhabited his chest.

His words, like rain, washed their love away.

Her paranoia grew as his love lessened.

How easily pain is turned into prose.

Self! Self! Tell me what to do! I've lost you!

I'm sorry I overwhelmed you. It wasn't my choice.

Take me back to when I didn't know you
and thought you were the greatest person
in the world.

When I get to heaven, I'll see Cat Stevens
sitting next to God, strumming his guitar
and singing of birds and of the wind.

Happiness comes in all colors, but blue especially.

I needed the pounding bass of the music to
counteract the pounding inside my own head.
If I turn it all the way up, the guitar will
drown out my thoughts and maybe I can be at peace.

The electric blue of the sky bore down upon her,
shedding an ethereal light over the still-green
world. As she looked at the sky she had
the desire to remain in that very spot all
day, among the shadows and the light, beneath
the electric atmosphere-- if for nothing else, to
contemplate true beauty.

"You had lint on your shirt!" she exclaimed-- as if this would explain why she had touched him so tenderly.

The simplest of your words are like poetry
to my aching heart.

The emotion rises up and, finding no
release, remains at the back of my
throat, overwhelming my senses.

Her soul surged upward at the thought of
missing him so. Was this love? This terrible,
aching longing beneath her breast? Not
seeing him for a day, an hour, a
second was unbearable. How could she
breathe when he was so far away?

How easily something as magnificently
simple as a song could bring back
memories of love, of spring, and of an
innocence that saw no end.

What did I do to deserve you? Whatever it is, I hope to do it a million times more.

On a day such as this, she found that she
lacked her hopeless desperation.

Should have! Should have! My mind is aflutter
with punishing itself. I cannot get enough
of you and for that reason I cannot think
of anything but you. I could die a thousand
times and heaven would never be as good as
earth when I'm with you.

Love me, love me, love me! This is all I ask of
you. And when you do love me, never stop,
for all the world would stop with you.

For the few moments out of each day when
we are able to look at each other and I
can hear your voice, all is right with the world.

The pain of each goodbye is followed by
the intolerance of slowly dripping time.

She liked to nurture the notion that they were
saving themselves for each other, from across the
miles and timezones; her vague hopes kept their love
alive, even when there was none left to sustain.
If she could only see him-- be with him-- surely that
yould be enough to fan the wavering flame within
her breast. As she sighed herself to sleep for what seemed
like the millionth night in a row, she recalled the
way his lips felt against hers and the way his
eyes changed from blue to green in the light.
Had it ever really happened, or was it all a merciless
dream, pursuing her into waking hours? Either
way, this mingling of love and girlish lust had its sweaty
grasp on her soul, refusing to let her breathe too
deeply the cool night air.

As the days grew shorter and her love fiercer,
she could not help but despair a little, for the
nights were also colder and she was alone.
He seemed a distant star, the last light left in
the sky at sunrise, melting away before she could
catch him.

I knew something was wrong the minute I saw your face and did not smile.

Our perfect love vanished before it had truly even begun.

If I took your hand in mine, would you take it back?
If I touched your cheek with a kiss would you
turn away, brush it off?
If I let the river of my eyes flow into yours, would
you look down, avoid my glance?
I know the answers because time and time again I have
offered my heart and you have left it upon
the cold altar.

Why is it that only love
and pain- each the
cause of the other-
inspire me?

I do this all for you! But do you even notice?
No! Why do I even care? Because I love you.
Why do I love you? Why do birds fly? It's just
the way it has to be.

My once sweet love for you has turned into a
dark, ugly yearning that reaches for what
is just outside its grasp.

Please don't speak- just take my hand and smile, and I'll know that everything is alright.

The sun came out and the rain vanished as if nature was trying to tell me that it is time to move on and be happy in life once again. I'd had my time of rain and dark clouds and sorrow, but now the sun demanded to return. How could I not accept? Although I am still hurting, I open my arms wide to hold to the hope I should have had all along.

The world once again took her into its
arms of wind and water and sunshine
and she knew she would recover.

There was a moment when I smiled
I forgot to be sad
but Thank You for showing your face-
it reminded me to be cynical
                                       jaded
                                       depressed
                                       alone

Oh, the emotion that rises in my throat. I thought
I was healing. I thought you were gone.

I realized suddenly that I did like myself.
I'd even go so far as to say that I wasn't a
bad person to know. I'm not sure when this
happened- when I had befriended myself. All I
know is that it was a long, gradual process. So
gradual, in fact, that I hadn't even noticed
until I had to face heartbreak and make
myself get through it. I was forced to be
my own greatest friend - I had to grab
myself by the shoulders, shake myself, and
tell myself that I was still worthy of love.
So now I'm at a point where I thoroughly
enjoy my own company. If everyone's
busy, it's ok: I'll go have a cup of coffee
by myself and selfishly revel in my state of
being alone without being lonely. Do I want
love? Of course I do. But for the first time,
I'm my own friend, and that's what it's
all about anyway, isn't it?

A-ha! You see what I've been saying all along:
nothing in this life is ever fair. Even when
something appears to be fair on the outside,
when examined further, it is ultimately rooted
in something unfair. Perhaps if the world just
exploded into nothing- but somebody would
find a way to consider that unfair, and
even in darkness the world would bever be at
peace.

I have been cleansed! I am whole!
I walked into the shocking night air
opening myself to everything all over
again, but differently. I smiled as I
felt you slip away; perhaps for good,
perhaps just for another day or hour.
However brief your leave of my mind,
it is worth it. I can slowly, slowly
gain sanity and piece back what's
left of my foolish, easy heart.

I watch my memories like I watch a movie
crying out, "No! Come back! Don't turn away!"
But I can't change the ending
I can't change the past
I can't make you love me again
you're gone gone gone

I don't have to set my alarm for once-
what a luxury to be able to live through sleeping-
or is it sleep through living?

Too many poems rolling around in my head- I don't
know how to get them all out in the order they're
supposed to be. Well- not like I ever made
sense to begin with.

Why do you ask if I write about you? Here! This is about you!

The song brings back thoughts for you, feelings
of you. You've let go and I'm glad. Now there's
the small matter of freeing my bored spirit.

I close my eyes and see Satan
I stay awake and have only myself
would I rather keep company with my demons while
conscious or while asleep- where I cannot escape?

God, what I would pay to unscrew my head for a night. Sleep is as precious as gold these days.

Everyone needs a reason to get out of bed in the morning. I realized I didn't have one, and had been waking up for nothing for quite some time. So what shall I wake up for tomorrow? Good question.

Interesting to watch a man who so loves women. His laughs, his smiles are so different from the twinkle in his eye as he turns away.

What is this perfect place that holds me to its racing heart of beauty?

I hear the thunder but don't see any clouds
I see lightning but feel no jolt
I just want the rain to come
to awaken me from this stupor

I feel this trouble is my own doing, yet I am helpless to stop it.

Would you begrugde me even my desperation?

I have ridden one tidal wave after another,
been tossed across the crests and
wash ashore at last at your feet

Tell the Moon to her pale face
that I am free
No longer am I chained
to her ebbs and flows

The longing is worst in the silence of the night.

We live through memories and dreams here
in this land of delight
Where there are no good times save for those
We remember

Funny, how a year ago I was pining after
you, you were lusting after her, she was
smiling with her victory.

No, I did not make a mistake this time
instead the mistake came with me home.

Trust is a quiet thing whose back is easily broken

Doctor to Patient: "I'm sorry, as of now there is no cure for
                                 what ails you. In addition, your insurance
                                 does not cover broken, bruised, torn, or
                                 tattered hearts."

Maybe if Hitler had gone to art school after all --
but what lesson would the world have learned from that?

I'm reaching for poetry tonight
but end up holding thoughts of you

I am an anarchist of love --
let's overthrow the whole system --
and start again

We live in mutual fear of losing each other's love
I suppose that means we won't let go
but let's allow our fears to negate one another --
and revel in boring security

The words lodge in my throat before I can speak
so look into my eyes and see all that I feel for you

With a wave of his hand,
he wiped away doubt as
he would a cobweb from
the corners of her mind

just imagine my arms around you
until you can pick up and go on

I'll be doing the same

I feel you so far removed from me
not by distance or by time
but by your silence

My arms belong around you in that kind of sort of way

is it wrong to mourn for something you
never had and thought you never wanted?

You wanted a flower
but got a flame --
something to tend to
but that burned you for your nearness

It would be so easy to be happy if you'd just let yourself. But we tend to be too lazy to break with melancholy in order to achieve such luxuries.

I'm mystified by the void that used to be your love

I'm going to love you now and allow my heart
to break and break and break and . . .