A Few Brilliant Ideas...

I've heard it said
that time will heal the heart.

I argue with the truth, but I know it when I hear it.

Just because your heart is whole,
doesn't mean that you can forget.

There's a dull ache
in the bottom of the glass.

A whisper in your ear
when a wisp of hair blows by.

Counting the promises
made to yourself without a moments hesitation.

Recognizing rushing rivers carry
dreams and wishes down the way.

It isn't a bad thing.
No faults and no guilty party.

If I can manifested wrongs,
then I think I can manifest forgiveness.

I wouldn't change it.
I wouldn't change anything.

People don't ask me what I think because they often overlook
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.

It's hard to describe what the inner self is like.
It's a maze to my own eyes, and in the dark I search for light.
I can't light a match in here for the fear it might catch fire;
for when I look into myself, I see all my dark desire.
Feel the spiders crawling out and the skeletons arise
from the closet where they're kept where I hide what I despise.

Other times I have no matches to light myself up-
to smoke out what has been driving me as I look for what's corrupt.
I don't always go in looking for the evil things inside,
but I'm still equally blinded to myself as I collide
with my consciousness, demanding that it show me all it knows.
I don't know much about myself, that's what I'm looking to expose.

My physique is unimportant, from my secretive perspective,
and it's always been that way because my time is too expensive.
Yet I thrive on your attention, and I'll covet your reception.
And if you're not living right, then sometimes my condescension
will appear and will assert that I am better than you.
But I'm diligent, hard working, and I prefer to follow through.
I am plagued by inadequacies behind my lines of pride.
I will work till I am dead if that means perfected design.
I'm paralyzed by fearfulness when idleness appears.
Though I do my best to stand it, I live stooped beneath its gears.
I'm a leader, and you'll see that even when I'm not in charge.
People listen to my words so I'm prone to be at large.
I love music with a passion. That's how I express reactions,
and if I'm writing down some words, well, then I'm filled with satisfaction.
I can't see inside of me, but others open like a scroll.
I have vision that is keen, prone to see inside your soul.
If you don't want me to see you, then I'd better close my eyes.
For your motives roll likes dies, falling from your masked disguise.
I find talking to be easy when others would be queasy.
And my strength at speaking words makes me friends that I know briefly.
But when someone shares their truths that no one else shall hear,
I lock them up inside, and I treasure them as dear.
I care for all around me, and I love them all so sweetly.
If you offer me your whole then I'll love it all completely.
I'm romantic to the max, more than anybody knows,
but that's something that I'm saving till I'm ready to propose.
Things don't come to me with ease. For me life is not a breeze,
but I'll push on trying harder, despite humanity's disease.
I'm a human, which makes me weak, something of which I'll gladly speak,
but when it comes down to myself, I'd rather have it be oblique.

Perhaps I speak too earnestly, perhaps you didn't care.
Perhaps I am nobody, and perhaps I'm worn for wear.
People don't ask me what I think because they often overlook
that I'll tell you if you ask because I'm an open book.

           And then the rain came.

I wake up to the sound of traffic. My eyelids flicker open and all around me, all I can see, is darkness. I scour the world for a sign of anything, anyone. The horns continue to blare, cars moving along invisible pavement. "Am I blind?" I ask, tentatively, groping at the air.

"No," and as it speaks, all the sound ceases to exist. Who is this that sound obeys him? Glancing around, I fail to see anything. I shuffle a bit, waiting.

"You are not blind. However, you have chosen to cover yourself up. Quite well, I might add."

"Let me see."

"Ah, but I've spoken to you before, and you've chosen not to listen." With that, the sounds erupted all around me once again, in a cacophony. The man was still speaking, I tuned out the rest of the noise, the music, the horns, the screeching tires and focused only on him. "You won't hear me if you do not have ears. You have covered those, with layer after layer of cloak. What are you hiding from?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Then, come, take off the cloaks."

"What cloaks?"

"The ones that obscure your vision," and as if on command suddenly I felt a great weight upon me, pulling me down. I collapsed on the floor, groaning. I strained and strained against the constraining cloaks, but they refused to shift.

"Help!" I managed, as the cloaks crushed me. Suddenly, the weight on me relaxed just a bit and I heard the sound of fabric being torn in two. Still, I lay. I struggled to rise and I felt a hand press me down.

"You can't do it. Be still and know who I am." I heard another ripping sound followed by another weight lifted. Things finally began to grow lighter. I saw light filtering through the layers. Elated, I began to tear at the covering, only to feel it grow thicker and stronger. The light began to fade. "You can't do it. Be still." And once again a cloak was torn. This time, as the light filtered through, I waited for the shadowy figure to assist me in tearing off the next layer. Often, when a new layer of light came I would grow excited and attempt to push ahead too quickly, slipping back into darkness. This stranger, whoever he was, was patient with me though.
As the inner layers began to tear, I started to cringe at the light. "Wait! Stop! This hurts!"

"Of course it does."

"Now I remember, I'm hiding because underneath... Well there's a lot of junk that I don't want anyone to see. It'd be better if you just leave now, so that you don't see it. Nobody can fix that stuff."

"I suppose you've been told so?"

"Yes, by everyone."

"Why should you believe them?" I paused, thinking. I didn't really have an answer. "Come, lean against me."

Rising from the carnage of shredded cloaks, I leaned against the man. His grip was firm, secure, loving. I felt a pain in my side as the cloak was shred. However, as soon as the cloak was gone, I grew lighter, happier. "More!" I demanded. This time a searing pain: I screamed. "Why does this hurt so badly?"

"Because you have held onto these cloaks for so long that they have become part of your very flesh." And at that moment, the cloak was free. I felt free. A wave of joy swept across me as I luxuriated in the feeling. I looked into myself for the first time in a while. I looked for the bitterness I felt. Rejection, anger, fury: gone.

I screamed again, this time from pleasure. "Keep going! Cut all the cloaks!" The cloaks were shred from my body, one at a time. As they shred, the world grew brighter and brighter. "Was the world ever this bright?"

The man just smiled, something I could finally see. As the last of the cloaks were cut away, I looked at him. He was a beautiful man, perfect, really. His features were that of one balanced, so well balanced that he could easily hold anyone or anything in check. With a final shredding sound, all the cloaks were cut but one. This cloak looked more like a veil, like the shimmering white material a bride would wear for her bridegroom. "Come, there is a feast for us." He said, gesturing towards a tall, oak gate in the distance. The two of us walked up a golden path, and as I walked through the doorway, the final cloak dropped from me and the world became immersed in glorious light.

Let's go.
Today the world is alive,
ready for us to jump in time.
You feel it too, right?
The shivers in the warm spring air
the dutiful green colors springing to life
all around us.
Let's go.
I want to live, live like never before,
and I know it sounds cliche to say
something that's been said a million times before
but that doesn't make it any less true.
Let's go.
Life is fluctuating, rapidly,
I want to run, swim, fly
because right here, right now, I'm alive.
Come with me, if you would,
it'd be more fun together,
but it doesn't matter because I'm going.
Let's go.
if you don't come, I'll go alone,
because right now, I'm free
I'm alive
and the world is mine to explore.
I have to go.

SCALING

The dark grey flame of corporate chatter
as  black suits climb the ladder.
And as time has passed you've looked up
into the soles of others shoes.

To try and struggle out from underneath
will be no easy task.
But you will knock others aside
or be drowned in a cascade of blue collars.

And if you choose to stand beneath the weight
for too long you will be crushed.


It's time to twist fingers and break wrists
for you've been condemned to bondage.
You claim your right to find escape
to rock the boat, and tip the scale.

To pull yourself from bar to bar, screeching freedom
changing that broken man to become
something bigger than who you are
and finally stand atop and cry

"THIS IS WHO I AM."

Whole nebulae swirl
in your eyes... When I'm with you
mon voyage fini.


[I'm going to do a poem a day for quite a while, as we just came out of our poetry unit in Lit.]