Dear Beloved

For the way you hold my hand,
I feel alive,
How you stare me down with voiceless song,
I muse gaily,
The way you talk without sleights or woes,
I entrust openly,
How your touch cleanses my wounds so tenderly,
I snicker in play,
When you clear my wrongs and cheer my rights,
I grow with you,
When the storm life blows around you comes,
I will protect you,
And when the storm gales pass us by,
I will be there to rejoice,
When you sing the songs I barely know,
I feel a warmth in my soul,
During the pictures of romance and true love,
I always stop to think of only you,
When the lights dim and the covers are tight,
I cannot be without our communing souls,
And the times when I rest alone in the darkness,
I reach out to touch you with the moon and stars,
But when you're there to whisper to me your dreams,
I hold them beside the warmest coals of my burning soul

Our hearts resonate together in an undying florescent flame,
burning the symbol into us that signs, amoureux éternellement

Cherish, We

He spots the lustful gaze beyond the lock, but distance between is barely a thought

my hands don't seem to know the dance, but yours are there to make advance

with patterns that weave, bend, and sway, the words enfold, our fingers take

the chance to sow a seed within, designs our love determined to begin

suns rise and fall, gods live and die, but when we part the heavens cry

the seasons change and months do flow, but with them all our love does grow

like rainstorms to the taught river dam, my love will wash throughout our lands 

 

To grow our gardens that twist and turn, a bed of unquenchable lusts and yearns

We'll pluck flowers to adorn the hearth, who's beauty pails to your endless worth

 
We'll rise the vines upon the walls, making sure to gild them all.

A thousand stars kindle gardens below, but none are like the moon so bold

As you to the moon do pull my tides, forever evoking me to your side.

Sheet of rain upon the Garden

 
 As fresh as the dust born day left out to dry
falls upon pale earth to try its' hands
Reaching between the arid, magenta blossoms
into a forgotten hearth of acrylic clay.

The wind sighs gently as the game begins
a delicate dance across a barren sea
the uprising of deathly blossoms follows
a song of rejuvenation amidst the grasses.

Soft whispers bond in an otherworld tone
weaving secrets that ____ deep and true
overgrown by the aged sapling that sits
and awaits a new breath by the tip of its' roots.

The gardener cannot begin to realize
what the rain dreams of the garden.

UNTITLED

The undying, tide abiding stones.
A dark sea of reflections
calling softly his name
to ease the pain of the accursed waves.

Wander abandoned amidst the littered quarry
one last time before the dusk surf collects it's bounty,
retreats into the abyssal plain,
and seeds the free spaces along the Mariana.

Some will drift down into her heart,
Disappearing forever in a red display
of sparks twinkling out of sight...

But not forgotten, not drowned,

Resting peacefully.

Bon Nuit, Mer.
Mer de Amour.

Heavy Metal Lover

Heavy Metal Lover

I want your whiskey mouth all over my blonde south
Red wine, cheap perfume, and a filthy pout
Do not bring all your friends because a group does it better
White river, with ya dear, let’s have a full house and leather

Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover
Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover

Dirty pony I can’t wait to hose you down
You’ve got to earn your leather in this part of town
Dirty paws and a patch for all the Rivington rebels
Let’s raise hell in the streets, drink beer, and get into trouble

Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover
Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover

I could be your girl-girl-girl-girl-girl-girl
But would you love me if I ruled the world-world-world

Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover

Whip me, slap me, drunk fuck
Me and carpers dunk drunk
Bud light liquors bar slut
Move if this is your jerk
Watch me light the St James
Yes I like it, appetizer
Taste of heavy metal lovers play
Baby we were born this way

Oooooo
Oooooo
Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover
Oooooo
Heavy Metal Lover

I could be your girl-girl-girl-girl-girl-girl
But would you love me if I ruled the world-world-world

Waiting

And waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting...

So much waiting.  It's almost as sick as being alone.

If I had a Totoro...

I would snuggle it tight!

I would rub it's belly.

I would poke it's nose...

I would... I would...

I would sleep better if I had a Totoro... <3

What am I missing?

 Give me strength to be passionate.

Give me strength to be patient.

Give me strength to be alone.

Give me strength to be together.

Give me strength to be reflective.

Give me strength to be active.

Give the strength to ask questions.

 

Give me the strength to seek answers.

Give me the strength to face the truth.

I am weak.

The Edge of Glory

18.  Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

                                                                                                                - Dalai Lama

Rebuilding the Great Wall

8.  Spend some time alone every day.

                                                                                                        -Dalai Lama

Right Shoulder Gaze

13.  In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation.  Don’t bring up the past.
              
                                                                                                                - Dalai Lama

No One Cries

On days the sun goes by,

You cry a song of love,

Reaching the edge of the dawn

Onward towards the horizon's final steps

Where it will wait.

And wait.

Poetry

I can't write poetry unless it is about nature.

Is that bad?  :-/

I need to try to break that habit.

With Fists of the Ocean -reflection-

There was once a time when I thought I had it all figured out.  The graduation, the job, the home, the family, the future. I never considered anything but the most optimistic outcome of the past.  Despite all my faults, my wrongs, and my innocence, it would work.  I would make it work.  I would outlast the change in you.

There was once a time when I would have given myself completely, even if it wasn't presented in return.  The self-sacrifice, the devotion, the unrelenting desire to make you happy.  I couldn't see myself in the looking glass, the man, worn, hollow, and sickened by fate and the inevitability of his actions.  The man who would do anything to make the looking glass shape into the image he longed most for.  I wouldn't see it, the man bending the glass with his melancholy eyes and heavy steps.  I would do it.  I would do it for you.

There was once a time when I could leave you behind.  Left behind.  Alone.  Waiting for something at the window like a dog waiting for his master to return home with food, toys, and love.  I meet that need and pushed beyond the call of duty to build you into something more.  Much more.  Sometimes, I would wonder if you even saw yourself achieving the goals carefully laid before you.  Was it just to appease my exhausted pleas or did you ever really want something more for yourself?  I would look for it.  I would find it for you.

There was once a time when I would light your fires of passion.  The kindling neatly stacked, the logs ready to be devoured, neatly topped with some magical copper flakes.  Yet, day by day, week by week, month by month, and year by year... I began to take on the task of preparing the rite of flames.  My hands became charred, my face dark with soot, my body resisting the ritual I had come to know.  Is this all?  Is this my role?  I would finally come to see.  I would finally stand alone.

But the moon is with me.

The time now is spent in quite reflection under the dark sun.  Am I selfish?  Am I thoughtless?  I am standing at the edge of the cliff over-looking the ocean and raise my fists, the fists of the ocean.  I am restless with worry and spend the night turning own myself to find what it is that I want

Suddenly, it is there, as bright and brilliant as the moon itself above.  We are not alone.

There is a sense of peace and I am free to rest in the tides.

Finale

4.  Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

                                                                                                               -Dalai Lama 

I Like It Rough

1. Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

                                                                                                               -Dalai Lama

Crossroads in the Badlands

dust settles on a sign
                       that groans and whispers:
" non omnis 
                moriar "
                      - Not all of me 
                                        shall die. -

sand dances on chalk stones
                       while a weathering step sounds:

" crede quod habes, 
                            et habes "
                                   - Believe that you have it, 
                                                                      and you do. -


mold on a deathly dry toad
                       cracks and grumbles a thick prose:

" aut viam inveniam 
                             aut faciam "
                                   - I will either find a way 
                                                                      or make one. -

song sparrows, muses of the desert wash, cry out, " Quid, quid faciam? "
                                                                                                                                                          
                                                                - What, what shall I do? -

Classwork - Spelled with a capital A-S-S

You know the feeling... when you just want to die and let everything fall apart around you.  OK... I don't mean it literally.  I mean for school work.  Like, when you have one of those moments where you say to yourself: "I'm done." or "I'll just never be able to accomplish this." Then the teacher comes over to either save the day or watch you melt into a pile of you own sorry ass self who couldn't put it together.

Right about now, I just don't want to to any of this work.  It sucks.  I don't want to do it.  I never wanted to do it.

I have to admit that being with a bunch of 7-8 Graders is pretty entertaining, but there is just way to much going on to enjoy those moments.  It feels like the teachers are just begging me with their twinkling eyes and less-than-believable smiles: "DON'T DO IT.  TURN BACK!  TURN BACK!"

I even had more than one teacher say that to my face.

"Why did you want to become a teacher?"

I don't even know how to answer that anymore.  Does, "Because I need a job to prove I can survive in the real world" count as an answer?

I mean, that's what I thought it was all for.  My father wasn't particularly happy with a few of my major life decisions, so being a teacher would prove to him that I could do it... right?

Well guess what.  Now that I don't have my father's support I feel like a hurricane that's gone too far inland.  The warm-water drive from my father is gone.  The gentle push of "Way to go Dudester!" that lead me up the coast faded away.  The currents of his happiness at the signs of my imminent success at something influential has left me swirling into the landmass known as reality.

And I am losing steam.

They say that student teaching is all about the students.

"Don't worry about us, just plan the lesson according to the student's needs."

Well guess what?  I don't even do what I plan on doing on some days.  Heck, I spend so much of my time worrying that they will do well on these assignments that I forget to even take care of my own needs.

Do you think that being a Youth Director helps any of this?  I'm working 5 days a week to try to educate these kids on the research paper, THEN I have to plan and accommodate my lessons for my youth on the weekends!

Maybe I'm just destined to be a teacher.  That's my hope speaking, right there.  Keyword: Destiny.  It helps to dull the pain when it is something inescapable.  Like death.  We don't think of death 24/7 (or... I hope you don't...) but we all understand that it is a part of life. 

Is being a teacher like death: inevitable?  Can I stand against the currents of the world and try to rebuild the support from my father to blow myself onto the path I want to follow?

Maybe we all need to blow our own storms.  Maybe we all rely too much on others to blow them for us.  The rain sure does feel nicer when you know that it's coming.

But isn't that just pessimism talking?  Rain.  Storms.  Hurricanes.  Death.  All this negative emotion. 

Don't worry.  I'm fully conscience of it.  I am aware that it is taking over my life.  That's why I made a change to the plan.  I went "out-of-bounds" as they say. 

I knew that I needed to make a change or die trying.

And so I did it.  Once a day, every morning, for the next 3 months.

Life seems more promising when you have a routine.

Friday, Friday, Friday... Oh how I love thee...

There are so many great things that happen on Fridays.  It just happens to be the greatest day of the WHOLE WEEK.  It's jsut one of those days where you need to have fun... because Friday and fun boh begin with an F.

In fact, let's make that a CAPITAL F in Fun.

Ok, sometimes there are conditions that might prevent an individual from reaching that capital F on a Friday. These include, but are not limited to:

Car Accidents, Major Surgery, Divorce, Root Canals, Spoiled Lunch, and Weekend Homework.

Even then, some of the items on this list... heck almost ALL of them could have some potential good in them. 

OK... maybe not the homework part.  Unless it is FUN homework.

So now we are at Friday.  The best day of the week.  My mediation is obviously working better than expected (and I didn't even have to get enibriated to enhance the effects!) so let's just keep talking about Friday for as long as I can.

I think that being in school is what truely makes Friday's worth it.  Everything about Friday seems to come from the school system.  I mean, you could always work on the weekend, but you NEVER go to school on a Sunday.  Even Saturday detention doesn't quite count.  That's basiclly for the people who don't want to be in school... or jsut want to be part of the Breakfast Club.

I know there are some people out there who are itching to blurt out: "But...but... I still enjoy my Fridays and I don't go to school!  Why would say that?!"

Let me fill you in on all the perks.

First, being in school is actually a good time.  WHAT?  Did I jsut say that?  Ok, let me clarify.  I'm not saying being in school 24/7 is always the best thing since sliced bread.  I am saying that you kind-of-have-to-be-here-anyways-so-make-the-best-of-it.  Where would you have met all of your friends from school?  Around the neighborhood?  If your neighborhood is anything like mine, there's a bunch of old folks locked in their homes and two toddlers who run around with their heads cut off from 10AM-4PM (on the non-rainy days).

To be continued... back to school...

The Big W

What is the big W?  It could be one of a variety of things.  I prefer to make it simple.  Identify the problem and attack directly. 

So where do I begin? 

It all started when the big W became something more than a special talent that I figured could carry me a while through my education and future careers.  It was more than something that I found lying on the side of my garbage.  It described me: the past, the present, and the unobtainable future.  It was something I could use for my own success, but I never meant for it to get this way.

The tumultuous W that has invaded my life has begun to grow like a stale weed in my flower bed of dreams.  It is growing out of control and is choking everything around it.  There isn't enough weed killer in the world to end it. 

It just won't end.

Chicken Parm on Wednesdays

There once was a time when I would have given anything in the world to go back and change everything.  How original right?  Who doesn't have that dream?   I'll tell you who.  They're known as the "I'm going to be happy with the way things are" people.  Alternatively, they are known as the people who need to feel better than YOU to move on with their day.

Maybe I'm just pessesmistic.  I use to think of myself as optimistic... most of the time... alright maybe not.  Maybe I was one of those people!  I needed to make you all feel terrible about the world so I could feel better about mine.  I guess I just confessed something to you.  More like to myself really.  That's how it feels sometimes.  Like writing is for the self.

I don't believe that writing for the self truly exists.  Somewhere in my head, I hope... no YEARN for someone to read this.  Why would I post this online on a blog in the first place?  That's what makes this exciting.  The fact someone might read this and say to themselves, "Hey, that guy has a point!" or "I wonder why he feels that way?"  or "Why should I give a damn?!"

Well, I hope you give a damn!  That's the point of this post.

Well, that's not true either.  This post is about me.  Selfish, need-it-all, me! 

This would be a good time to describe myself as the fat, lazy, pimpled, 4 eyed, computer freak that everyone would be stereotyping as.  It doesn't really matter if I'm a boy or a girl... but I sure do sound like a bitch!  That's all that counts right now.  My voice.  My son-of-a-bitch voice that you are putting up with.

 If you've made it this far and you've survived the ranting, I am surprised!  I almost want to give up right now and spare you and myself the horror of what waits in this post.

But that wouldn't be fair.  Not now.  Not that I've made it this far.  That's what separates me from what I would consider a failure.  A miserable failure.  Lurking in the abyss of my bed sheets and crawling out to gasp a brief breath of bologna on white before diving back to the depths.

It's not really that bad.  There's chicken parm with Mom in between on Wednesdays or Thursdays... if she feels like it.  When I really get spicy I might cook up a chicken breast in oil with spices... it's really my fault that I don't eat as well as I should.  I just like the company.  Food + People = Meal.  I would eat just the bologna if I could eat it with someone else!

I think that's the primary reason for bitchiness.  Loneliness.  It's an interesting word to look at.  LONELINESS.

Not a very lonely word.  Lots of letters!  Maybe it's more about the spaces in between the letters... like the number of spaces between the L's and the N's and the closeness of the S's.  It seems a little wierd at first.  But just look at it!  It screams symbolism!  Do I need to spell it out for you?!

Ok, maybe I'm taking your knowledge for granted or imposing my ideas on your brains... maybe that's a little too aggressive.  I NEED TO BE AGGRESSIVE.  Where am I going to go if I'm not aggressive? 

One sec... gotta pee.

Alright, bladder's empty.  Time to keep going.

I wonder what people would want to know about me?  What would I want to know about me?  I'm not sure I want to answer that question.  I don't even want to know me anymore.  I'm just sick and tired of that guy!

Maybe I want to change myself.  I want to change myself.  I want to enjoy myself I want to be in the presence of myself I want to be able to mediate with myself.

Damn that's selfish!  But I need more me time that doesn't involve a 12+ hour nap and a 5AM wake up call.  Even now, sitting with the laptop on my knees in front of the television at a friend's house so I could focus on my project due Friday at midnight, I still feel like I could drift off to sleep at any moment.

...

... alright that's a cue.  Time to log off. 

It's been fun posting.  I hope I can do it again soon.  Maybe.

-K