Let the dust settle before you start assuming things about the shape of my imagination.
Tornado's and whirlwinds are frequent; they tear at my peace of mind, they scatter my thoughts.
Just let the dust settle before you start asking questions, please.
The inhabitants of my brain are screaming to be released, it really makes it hard to think.
If I lay my head on my pillow,
I can hear helicopters.
Maybe they are evacuating my mind.
Maybe I will be able to sleep now.
Maybe you will be in my dreams.
Maybe when the dust settles,
I will allow myself to say, "I miss you"
Friday, August 31, 2012
Monday, August 20, 2012
Stars
I can give it all on the first date
I don’t have to exist outside this place
And dear know that I can change
But if stars, shouldn’t shine
By the very first time
Then dear it’s fine, so fine by me
‘Cos we can give it time
So much time
With me
And I can draw the line on the first date
I’ll let you cross it
Let you take every line I’ve got
When the time gets late
But if stars, shouldn’t shine
By the very first time
Then dear it’s fine, so fine by me
‘Cos we can give it time
So much time
With me
If you want me
Let me know
Where do you wanna go
No need for talking
I already know
If you want me
Why go
[x2]
I can give it all on the first date
I don’t have to exist outside this place
And dear know that I can change
But if stars, shouldn’t shine
By the very first time
Then dear it’s fine, so fine by me
‘Cos we can give it time
So much time
With me
[x2]
Sunday, July 15, 2012
When You Talk In That Tone
When you talk in that tone…
Electricity
Solar flares
Heat waves
Blizzards
Hailstorms
Sandstorms
Rainstorms
Rain dances, it’s hard to think of anywhere else
I’d rather be.
Sometimes in that
silence
in that pause between thoughts
admiration
exhaustion
I respond to every
emotion pulsating through
your body—is this love, is this love,
is this love that I’m feeling?
This hunger is unbearable.
Craters left like momentary wombs, your
words
on impact leave
a man
breathless.
I swear the way a heart beats
it speeds it’s rhythm when
being recited truths, poetry of the soul:
I can’t control the song.
When you talk in that tone,
this hunger is unbearable. I would
eat
every rhyme you’ve
spoken to,
every memory we
create,
just to have your essence within me
at all times.
the distance between us is that of the Atlantic,
and
I’m swimming, darling, I’m swimming.
Electricity
Solar flares
Heat waves
Blizzards
Hailstorms
Sandstorms
Rainstorms
Rain dances, it’s hard to think of anywhere else
I’d rather be.
Sometimes in that
silence
in that pause between thoughts
admiration
exhaustion
I respond to every
emotion pulsating through
your body—is this love, is this love,
is this love that I’m feeling?
This hunger is unbearable.
Craters left like momentary wombs, your
words
on impact leave
a man
breathless.
I swear the way a heart beats
it speeds it’s rhythm when
being recited truths, poetry of the soul:
I can’t control the song.
When you talk in that tone,
this hunger is unbearable. I would
eat
every rhyme you’ve
spoken to,
every memory we
create,
just to have your essence within me
at all times.
the distance between us is that of the Atlantic,
and
I’m swimming, darling, I’m swimming.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Point
How does a person get from point A to point B?
Because here I am, standing at point A with my binoculars, trying to find you at point B.
But there’s an ocean between us. A desert, a forest, a wall, a galaxy.
Point is, that I’m over here and you’re over there. And I don’t know how in the hell I’m going to get to you.
Once upon a time you were here. With me. At point A. But it wasn’t really point A, because then there was no point B. POINT IS, we didn’t need any coffee. For we were each others caffeine. We didn’t need any alcohol. For we could get drunk off our laughter. We didn’t need anyone else, because we had each other.
But 50/50 chances only exist in statistics. Love, is more 60/40. 70/30. In the cute “I love you more” tug-of-war, there can only be one winner.
I guess my point is that you left. My point is that I’m a little high strung, a little hungover, and a little lonely.
My point is, that if I start swimming towards point B, will you meet me halfway?
Because here I am, standing at point A with my binoculars, trying to find you at point B.
But there’s an ocean between us. A desert, a forest, a wall, a galaxy.
Point is, that I’m over here and you’re over there. And I don’t know how in the hell I’m going to get to you.
Once upon a time you were here. With me. At point A. But it wasn’t really point A, because then there was no point B. POINT IS, we didn’t need any coffee. For we were each others caffeine. We didn’t need any alcohol. For we could get drunk off our laughter. We didn’t need anyone else, because we had each other.
But 50/50 chances only exist in statistics. Love, is more 60/40. 70/30. In the cute “I love you more” tug-of-war, there can only be one winner.
I guess my point is that you left. My point is that I’m a little high strung, a little hungover, and a little lonely.
My point is, that if I start swimming towards point B, will you meet me halfway?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Grand Canyon
Every cloud has a silver lining... so quote of the deek is...
"Sorrow's silver lining is that it makes great writers." -James Newman
Grand Canyon
A doctor once told me I feel to much. I said 'So does God, that's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the Moon.'
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What would he tell the people that don't feel enough? The people that try to write love and acceptance on their arms because they'd rather feel pain than feel nothing at all? Would he write a prescription? Or would he tell them to go see the Grand Canyon?
He'd write a prescription.
But the only thing a pill can make you feel is the feeling of it sliding down your throat. All a pill's contents swimming through your veins can make you feel is side effects. One isn't enough. There's never enough until the bottle is empty and the heart stops beating. It's never enough until they're sitting on the Moon with God, admiring the Grand Canyon.
"Sorrow's silver lining is that it makes great writers." -James Newman
Grand Canyon
A doctor once told me I feel to much. I said 'So does God, that's why you can see the Grand Canyon from the Moon.'
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What would he tell the people that don't feel enough? The people that try to write love and acceptance on their arms because they'd rather feel pain than feel nothing at all? Would he write a prescription? Or would he tell them to go see the Grand Canyon?
He'd write a prescription.
But the only thing a pill can make you feel is the feeling of it sliding down your throat. All a pill's contents swimming through your veins can make you feel is side effects. One isn't enough. There's never enough until the bottle is empty and the heart stops beating. It's never enough until they're sitting on the Moon with God, admiring the Grand Canyon.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Dying Every Day
2live
adj \ˈlīv\Definition of LIVE
1 a: having life
b : existing in fact or reality
2: exerting force or containing energy: as
a : afire, glowing
b : connected to electric power
c : charged with explosives and containing shot or a bullet
d : imparting or driven by power
e : being in operation
3: abounding with life
4: being in a pure native state
5: of bright vivid color
Live is an adjective, verb, and adverb. It is undoubtedly in every dictionary published. There are movies, songs, books, plays, etc., just about life. Yet... people don't know the true meaning of it. You ask somebody on the street what their definition of life is, and it'll probably be 'To have life, to live'. Asking a 90 year old war veteran, however, is a completely different story. The reason few people know the true meaning of life is because you can't truly know what it means to live, until you have truly met death. Tragic, yet... ironic, isn't it?
When things are going bad we always tell ourselves 'Well, at least things can't get any worse.' Well I, can count on both hands times that they did. Life works in funny ways, but who am I to complain? Everything that happens is for a reason. Everything that happens helps shape us into who we are. Everything bad that happens makes us appreciate life more, when its going good. Every minute of every day, we are dying. Every second that goes by brings us closer to the end. So why aren't we all living like we're dying? Because if you think about it... aren't we?
Forever&Always
JHB
When things are going bad we always tell ourselves 'Well, at least things can't get any worse.' Well I, can count on both hands times that they did. Life works in funny ways, but who am I to complain? Everything that happens is for a reason. Everything that happens helps shape us into who we are. Everything bad that happens makes us appreciate life more, when its going good. Every minute of every day, we are dying. Every second that goes by brings us closer to the end. So why aren't we all living like we're dying? Because if you think about it... aren't we?
Forever&Always
JHB
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Surviving the Devil, All Three of Them...
The horrors of babysitting
"Kristy, darling, have you seen you brother?" I ask as I lift the tyke out of the laundry basket filled of Cocoa Puffs. She shakes her head, blonde curls whipping my face.
"No." She says, staring up at me with wide, brown eyes. "He said he was going to the bafroom but that was a hour ago." I sigh and set her down on the couch but she instantly climbs down and chases after the cat. I pretend I don't care and march on upstairs too the bathroom. I press my ear to the door, and when I don't hear anything I knock rather loudly.
"Matt?" I ask. "Are you in there?" No reply. I press my ear to the door and hear a small noise. "Mathew if you do not answer me this minute I am coming in." Nothing. I narrow my eyes and turn the door knob, pushing the door open with more force than neccesary. Matt's eyes widen at the same time mine do. He's standing at the sink, towel around his bare shoulders. In one hand he holds a comb, in the other a pink tube of some sort. There was a pink glob waiting atop the comb. "What. Are. You. Doing?" I tried not to grit my teeth, I really did, but failed miserably.
"Uhh... nothing?" He shrugs and quickly drops the styling tools into the sink. I narrow my eyes at him and pluck the pink tube from the sink. I read the label, Long Lasting Hair Dye. I glare at Matt, walk out the door and back downstairs, and drop the pink tube into the trash. 'Why, why would a twelve-year-old boy want to dye his hair pink?' I ask myself with a shake of my head. I start to sigh, but am interrupted when the baby monitor clipped to my belt erupts with the sounds of a crying baby. I quickly sweep into the nursery by the master bedroom, and pick up the crying nine month year old baby girl. I hold her in a comfortable position in my arms and soothe her by gently patting her back while searching for her pacifier. I find it amongst her blanket and hold to her mouth. She accepts it gratefully. I bounce her softly for a few moments, and when I check on her she is fast asleep. I smile at her adorable, innocent, face and lay her on her back in her crib. I watch her for a minute before closing the door quietly behind me as I go to search for Kristy.
I find her in the half-bath, trying to put the cat in the toilet. I quickly come to the cat's rescue, freeing the feline from Kristy's grasp and setting her free outside the bathroom. The little girl sits on the floor in front of the sink, looking up at me with sad deyes and a pouty lip.
"You let her get away" She says in a small voice and snifffs twice for effect.
"But honey, Ginger doesn't want to take a bath in the toilet." I say gently, looking down at her with an apologizing look. She nods and sniffs twice more before reaching up for me. I smile slightly and pick her up, her wrapping her arms around my neck. I sigh for the millionth time tonight and can't help but think, surely these children will be the death of me.
"Kristy, darling, have you seen you brother?" I ask as I lift the tyke out of the laundry basket filled of Cocoa Puffs. She shakes her head, blonde curls whipping my face.
"No." She says, staring up at me with wide, brown eyes. "He said he was going to the bafroom but that was a hour ago." I sigh and set her down on the couch but she instantly climbs down and chases after the cat. I pretend I don't care and march on upstairs too the bathroom. I press my ear to the door, and when I don't hear anything I knock rather loudly.
"Matt?" I ask. "Are you in there?" No reply. I press my ear to the door and hear a small noise. "Mathew if you do not answer me this minute I am coming in." Nothing. I narrow my eyes and turn the door knob, pushing the door open with more force than neccesary. Matt's eyes widen at the same time mine do. He's standing at the sink, towel around his bare shoulders. In one hand he holds a comb, in the other a pink tube of some sort. There was a pink glob waiting atop the comb. "What. Are. You. Doing?" I tried not to grit my teeth, I really did, but failed miserably.
"Uhh... nothing?" He shrugs and quickly drops the styling tools into the sink. I narrow my eyes at him and pluck the pink tube from the sink. I read the label, Long Lasting Hair Dye. I glare at Matt, walk out the door and back downstairs, and drop the pink tube into the trash. 'Why, why would a twelve-year-old boy want to dye his hair pink?' I ask myself with a shake of my head. I start to sigh, but am interrupted when the baby monitor clipped to my belt erupts with the sounds of a crying baby. I quickly sweep into the nursery by the master bedroom, and pick up the crying nine month year old baby girl. I hold her in a comfortable position in my arms and soothe her by gently patting her back while searching for her pacifier. I find it amongst her blanket and hold to her mouth. She accepts it gratefully. I bounce her softly for a few moments, and when I check on her she is fast asleep. I smile at her adorable, innocent, face and lay her on her back in her crib. I watch her for a minute before closing the door quietly behind me as I go to search for Kristy.
I find her in the half-bath, trying to put the cat in the toilet. I quickly come to the cat's rescue, freeing the feline from Kristy's grasp and setting her free outside the bathroom. The little girl sits on the floor in front of the sink, looking up at me with sad deyes and a pouty lip.
"You let her get away" She says in a small voice and snifffs twice for effect.
"But honey, Ginger doesn't want to take a bath in the toilet." I say gently, looking down at her with an apologizing look. She nods and sniffs twice more before reaching up for me. I smile slightly and pick her up, her wrapping her arms around my neck. I sigh for the millionth time tonight and can't help but think, surely these children will be the death of me.
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