Underwater

Grateful, ungrateful... words that circle my spirit like vultures of life. I never learned to balance love with my own hopes, dreams or desires....mainly because I've always been attached to people (friends&lovers) who I thought needed me more. Turns out the majority of them have everything but were lazy and basically holding me under water so they didn't drown.

For my birthday in 2011, I've been looking at solo cruises and trips. I think I just need to get away by myself, for myself, for awhile. This past year has really brought me full circle. I deserve more than I get from everyone in my life. It's that simple. I tend to feel like a waitress taking the orders of those I care about, as well as paying for the meal..no tip, no gratitude; just expectancy. I've pulled away and fought to gain peace of mind.

Love used to be so important to me, more important than the air you and I breathe, but I never realized I was choking...never saw my face turning purple and distorted before my eyes. I look in the mirror and love is not there. It's been boarded up and replaced by reason, logic and determination.

I keep wondering if I'm meant to balance the two, let them live harmoniously side by side, or if one will just never mix with the other...drops of water sliding down an oily mixture.

With this year coming to a close, I have to stay resolute in my journey for better things, better situations and the big move that I've always longed for...time to find a place that I can call home.

Time for a lot more me and a lot less of everyone else. This time I'd like to stay afloat.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Night

Night falls I,
Trace tomorrow over today's hopes,.dreams and failures
Creating a quilt of memories sewn together
As I lay they cover me with a warmth that crowds my soul
A sadness that seaps like ink through paper into my skin
I'm branded again

I'm no longer the me I used to be

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

holidays

I stomp out flames roasting chestnuts over a once open fire,

Hang wreaths of the present over mantels of the past,

Then decide bare is a better reminder

Restless dreams of familial warmth frozen in the cold night air, faces rigid and cracked from laughter of holidays past,

Memories that couldn't last

Cider clings to a mug of hope slowly evaporating into the air

There's no one there, the room is empty

Windows slick with winters chill, another season of broken promises is here

The holidays remain a friend I'd like to forget, a lovers kiss my lips can't help but miss

Sometimes, most times I'd rather not celebrate

The breaking of my spirit

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

broken.

What does it mean when you cant stop loving someone? When they are supposed to be out of your life, your thoughts, your heart and soul.. or wait…don’t people say that if they are then you never really loved them at all? But then how are you supposed to move on, live your life, love another when all your heart yearns for is that chance to really be loved by someone you gave your heart to, waiting for them to see you as you see them.

Wait for them to need you as much as you’ve always needed them.

Wait for them.

But for how long?

Higher Education = lower expectations

Sometimes that’s how I feel – that by working in higher education I’m lowering my expectations, of what I could be, of what others THINK I could possibly be. Both seem to have the same answer: Nobody

Perhaps this feeling stems from 5 years of working in higher education helping others pursue their educational avenues and inspirations while I struggle to make even the slightest time for mine. Perhaps because doing so pays the bills, and puts food on the table but almost always starves my soul. My soul feels empty at the pointless work I do every day, the mindless mundane tasks and even when there is something challenging completed, the lack of appreciation always leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Everyone has suggestions. Quit your job. Go to school full time. Find another job. Ideally I would love to do all of the above if I could but unlike 80% of the 20-something generation I don’t have parents, other family members or a significant other to lean on if I make some sort of rash decision. I don’t have anyone to carry the load. I never have had anyone and I don’t suspect that will change any time soon, but the real problem is what does that mean for my future? Do I even still have a future? I can’t remember what that looks like or feels like. That glimmering, blind hope and faith when I was 18, ready to take on the world, fall in love and become someone others would dare to dream of being and then so suddenly, like a shooting star, I fell. Then there was darkness.

I write poetry, I read, I take classes whenever I can but nothing and no one on earth can satisfy my thirst for knowledge, and my desire to be more than just another face in the crowd and be someone that can really help others, mainly children. People always seem shocked when I say that I want to help kids. “Oh you want to work with kids?” Astonished face. How quickly we all forget that we too were once kids, with dreams, goals and aspirations. How many of us had them diminished by friends, family, lovers and just regular old life doing what it does best – challenging us? Where could we have made better choices? What other things did we have going on that everyone else overlooked? I find myself asking those questions every day as I look around at the “success” of those who at least had one solid focused caring person in their corner. When I search the confines of my mind, I can’t seem to find that person anywhere. I find the search engine, enter “inspiration, motivator” and no one comes up. Not sure what that means or if maybe I’m searching for the wrong thing amongst fallen memories, but I do know one thing, I’ve learned and lost with learning – lost pieces of me, lost pieces of my heart, lost pieces of what truly makes me the person I once was who now sits in the shell of who I’ve become. How can I change that person and still feel whole?

I search for the answers every morning that I open my eyes, wonder what the day will bring if I will ever be able to continue on my spiritual journey of self-actualization instead of only being able to mildly help others with theirs. It’s a lonely road, which sometimes feels devoid of love, purpose and understanding, but I try to feed it to myself through my words and feelings of self-worth when I can.

I want to achieve my great expectations.

Ready or not.

..uncertainty

hangs like a thick cloud of distrust
your words your
space
the things you left out
the lies by omission, someone I once knew called them
I fight to find the truth behind eyes
that leave me with questions
my heart burns like a fire raging out of control
out of your reach
you never really held it anyway
asleep I fight the fears in my dreams and then wake to find
you're still the same
but I guess I've changed

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.4

sting.

catch myself falling into the fallacy in your eyes
the tone of your insincerity
i live, starved for a love that nourishes
but i hang on now
by a thin thread
a thread that frays from the edges
of my sanity
i need you like a hole in my head
a knife in my chest
it stings
and it never seems to heal

Published with Blogger-droid v1.4.9

bleeds.

you give and you give til your soul bleeds
ink instead of blood
til your eyes cry salt
instead of tears
til the stinging becomes
a welcome pain

your hands reach for a love
that was never within your grasp
for a hype that never had any hope
the light turns into darkness
and the only solace you find
is in between the blue lines

if writing away the hurt could make
it disappear into thin air
then i’ve written my weight in gold
and shouldn’t even care

but a heart that loves, lives
and a person with faith, gives
and even though it hasn’t come full circle
just yet
i’ll give until my soul bleeds
ink instead of blood
but not to you
not for you

- untitled -

Every day I see this life I
Could have had
Wanted to have
Dreamt of
And now when I
Fall asleep
Nightmares attack my soul
And make my spirit weep

Try to remember a time when laughter and
Hope
Love and no fear
Pieces of me, the good pieces
They were still there

Now I peel from the corners of my existence
Like cheap paint
Renovated for the next experience
For the next time
I fall

I hold myself tight to keep
Any more of me from escaping
I close my eyes and will today
To become yesterday
To become the day before
To become the day that love
Gave me life
And I could breathe
The air here is no good

I wait in darkness
I wait for you

a poem.

At first it was a glance, a word, a sentence
A paragraph
Now you’ve become a poem

I waved away words with a shake of my head
Occupied my time, my tongue and my pen
Slept away your memory, dreamt away your smile
If I could escape this obsession
For just a little while

One by one the things I felt, saw, tasted and touched
Became a part of my love for you
My story of you
Reincarnated from that of someone I loved a thousand times
Before
Before I leapt into the dark abyss of emotion
And swam across the river of uncertainty
With hope that you would love me again
As you had so many times before

I scribbled my name on the inside of
Your palm
Remember me now
And always

But if by chance our ability
To recall our passion with just a look fails us
You’ve got a word, a sentence, a paragraph
Now you’ve become a poem
So read

american lie.

Trying to become immune from this sickness
White America
This badge you’ve sewn into the very fabric of my being
Branded before, during and after birth
This skin makes me less than a second class citizen
My gender makes me less than the opposite sex
My sexuality has thrown me from the frying pan
Into the fire

Climbing my way up the food chain only
To see that links are missing
And time is running out
I’ll starve before I make it
Before I nourish my aching soul
And wounded pride
Fuck you America
The American Dream is
A Technicolor lie

Skin burning as I smile, fighting through
The urges to smash a face into the concrete
My fists balled at my sides, waiting just waiting
For life to strike another blow
But I’m almost down for the count how can I compete

Falling faster into this downward spiral of
Self-despair and hurt mixed with a dash of hate
Hate this life I’ve been given but unable to live
When I know my worth, my talent
And every drop of me that I can give

But I’m feeling ill because my insides
Are twisted and my brain is tormenting me
Whether awake or in slumber
As I watch the morals of society crumble

Catching pieces of who I was, who I could have been
And what I think I’d like to be
Watching them fall between the cracks
It’s dark and cold
But at least I’m not alone

Wet cement

Wet cement begins to dry
With lovers initials carved
They were here
At this moment
At this time
They meant something to each other
Leaves blow as the seasons change from Fall
To Winter
The cement has grooves from feet
From daily wear
Circles, lines
“rae wuz here”
Tatted along side the other
Faces, places, and moments memory
erases
This street is lined with shoppers
Ready in the yuletide spirit
Cold and unmoving
Piles of slush hit pavement and sidewalks
Of passersby
Passers lie
Holding hands and snuggling beneath
The warm glow
Of the street lamp’s light
Infidelity of linked fingers
Leads to more trouble into the night
The snow melts and the spring brings rain
Some times sun peeks in between the clouds
Some times she peeks between the curtains of life
And thinks about that day
The initials
That wet cement
Love immortalized
Long after the cement
Had dried
Long after love
Love such a beautiful word
Became such an ugly lie

Pessimistic Optimist

I like cinnamon applesauce. Perhaps looking at the small container of a lighter unsweetened version of applesauce today made me think about it. I don’t know why that prompted more, but it did. Two spoonfuls later, I’m not displeased but I’m not overjoyed as I am when there is cinnamon in it. In fact, it’s taken on a kind of bland mush taste in my mouth with the consistency of oatmeal. That’s kind of how “change” works for me most of the time. It might not be something terrible, but the chances of it being “great” are fairly slim and it gets progressively less desirable. Why is that? Why couldn’t a change knock my socks off? Am I too optimistic that change could bring something better? Is the grass always greener in my mind? Or maybe it’s simple. Maybe it’s just that my life sucks. I find that easier to believe. It’s more of a reality than anyone or anything else around me. I’m a pessimistic optimist. Hear me roar.

Love's Rhythm

The parts of me that long for the best of you
Have silenced my tongue and stolen my heart beats
Heart
Beat
Heart
Be
At this place in time where I can’t make sense of
Yesterday’s today and tomorrow’s beginning
I’m lost and craving my sanity
That is you, that is everything you do

I falter where I stand and land
Directly in the palms of your desire
You cup me in your hands
And keep me safe, it’s dark
But the light is blinding
So I’ll feel my way out this time
I’ll have to make up my mind

The solace that comes from certainty is
Often tainted with the lack of originality
that infinite possibilities
Could bring
Becomes just another “thing”
Another pointless “fling”

Servitude, a few inches from a slave
To the heart’s damnation and unwavering faith
In its ability to give emotion life
Without reason
Without cause
Without doubt

This is love’s rhythm
And just when you match it
It changes
It grows
It becomes an entirely new song
With new words
But the result is still the same

Love

first last time

The first time was like an eternity had passed in between
Space and time on a constant high and rewind
Rewind
Damn
The first time I looked into your eyes
The first time I felt like you were mine
The first time I knew I wanted to cross that line
Push deep inside your cerebellum
Every time you said you were fine

So much time has passed over now and then
A revolving door of fluid thoughts covering us both
In wet splashes of emotion
And painting us hues of love
The colors
They blend
Procreate
And give birth to
A new shade
Shade in the corners of each other’s hearts
Safe
We’re safe here
Silent smiles cross through the air
Like unspoken words
And kisses left lingering
Your breathe becomes
More than just my air
It becomes my life

And just when I thought I’d
Never be the type

I wish I was your first love
But I plan to be your first
And only
Last time

i needed you.

Rain tears through the sky and hits hard, like sheets of metal against the earth
And I hear the sound of redemption as it cleanses
I hear the sounds of peace as everything is washed anew
The chance for me and you

Thunder roars in the sky warning me of its contempt
I’ve finally been given, should it be taken away
Drowning me in the revelation of tomorrow’s yesterday
My mouth is full of raindrops that wash all of the doubt I’d try to say

It slows down quickly, clinging to my shoulders
coming to my senses as I’m soaked
From the inside out
I had to understand the many tears I’d cried
And what they were always about

I needed you

scraped

I want to climb inside my head and chase away the thoughts of yesterday
I want to scrape you from the lining of my heart and watch you bleed into a puddle
Of forgotten memories
I can’t
I can’t today
So tired of carrying these broken pieces on my back in this burlap sack
Like any adhesive could repair the damage you’ve done
Like any one else wouldn’t burn under the weight of these acidic tears
And smeared ink fears

Run after those memories in my thoughts only to catch them
And remember why I didn’t want to see them before me
Feel them adore me
And break down my resolve to let you go
But you smile back at me here
You already know

Rubber cemented yourself in between the layers of my pores
And within the scars that hid behind laughter
You found me in that small space, carried me out, sat me beside you
And saw love’s caged curiousity spring forth with life
Right there, right then
You knew I loved you
And I hated you for that
You knew I’d never let go

Prying your words from around my throat with vice grips of reason
Air starts to fill my lungs, but the mental photographs won’t pass
Closing my eyes willing them to be burned with my darkness
but it disappoints me
I chastise you in that silence
I can’t
I can’t today

It hurts to feel
It hurts to be

-untitled-

Unable to close my eyes and
See anything besides her skin beneath my fingers
Feel her breath against my body as I tease her desire, her want
My lips with kisses like warm sun against her neck
Her eyes closed, lashes laying like spun silk, her teeth pressed into her bottom lip
So hard
Hard that they leave indentations only visible each time a small moan of pleasure
Escapes her mouth, the most beautiful lips carved with love and pure beauty
She’s magnificent
And I pause, then smile to see her eyes open and watch me
Watching her
In wonder
In side
In awe
I hear the sound passion makes each time I bring her closer
Each time I pull her out of herself and into me
I feel her release, let go, and become mine
I hold her there as long as she’ll let me
As long as her body clings unconsciously
Melting into me
And for that brief moment in time
Emotionally cauterizing the space between us
So the outside world won’t infect
Healing each other in the form
Of unconditional love

fire.

flames that engulf, and smoke that chokes
embers spit fire like verbal cannons
singe, burn through the first layer
slowly eat away what lays below
the hidden secrets of distrust exposed

feet dance upon hot coals
peeling away the protective humanity
called skin
slowly feeding upon an inevitable fate
from the outside, searing within

imprint of thought branding organs
with an inferno of heat
catch that rhythm, catch your fall
catch that beat

screams becomes songs of apology
as reality sinks into bubbled flesh
that scars
that bleeds
that tears

i wish you
were never here.

just another face in the crowd...

In my Psychology of Race, Class and Gender course, my Professor talks a lot about individual responsibility in regards to our preconceptions and judgments of others. She speaks quite often of her inability to be satisfied with her contributions to society on a "social" level when it comes to discrimination of the above (race, class and gender), but as a middle aged white women in America, she has time to sit and ponder the plight of those unlike herself. What about the people who live this life, every day? Those who can't find jobs because of race, have been shunned from family because of gender opposition and those whose "class" doesn't allow them the opportunities of the finer things in life? People argue, we are all afforded the same chances -- yes and no. If you are born into an abusive, violent home and that's all you know, it takes someone from "outside" to pull you into a world that you've only been an outsider to up until then. How can you dream of a world you've never had? Yet, people do it. It's constant testing of character, of strength, of the will to survive in a world that beats you down for every bit of uniqueness you display. What are people so afraid of? As individualistic as Americans are, it's mostly in reference to what's good for the upper class population. It's amazing how they come together to keep the poverty line flourishing, but to help your fellow man? Say what? That's unheard of. It's me, mines, what's best for me and mines. Reflecting on the lives lost or hurt by actions aren't apparent until televised, like Iraq and Afghanistan and September 11. Carnage doesn't matter until it makes a guest appearance in the media, then artificial concern is mustered up. But who really cares? Who really gives a shit about people that have nothing to do with them? So celebrities have money to give to various causes, lucky them, but there are so many people who religiously give of money and time to others that are less fortunate when they themselves don't even have that much to give...the unsung heroes in our society. How do they get recognized? How do we hear the stories of those that they have helped? I just wonder how come it's so easy for those with to look at those without as just more faces in the crowd. Just because you won't see into me, doesn't mean you can't see me. I'm still there. We are still here.

- untitled -

A life of certainty, a life where yesterday’s promises still cling to the wings of today’s bird and soar
Broken promises no longer lay shattered like glass at the feet of a broken mirror, 7 years of bad luck erased within moments, swept into a dustpan and discarded
Like the memories of pain, pushed beneath layers of cerebral matter, storing them for never
Acceptance of the current without nostalgia for what was, and what should have been, reveling in what is
Slow dancing to the music of your soul as if this one dance could change everything and anything without fear or disaster, fear of chaos, fear or abandonment, fear of
Fear of living in constant pain
Just wanting to heal
Just wanting to feel
And have it not hurt

Up To 100 Inmates May Be Released Early - Sacramento News Story - KCRA Sacramento

Up To 100 Inmates May Be Released Early - Sacramento News Story - KCRA Sacramento

stingy or self - preservation?

I was an only child for 12 years. I still consider myself an only child since my brother and I are 11 years apart roughly. No one ever has really helped me. I learned to climb mountains from the experiences of falling down and skinning my knees. I still have the mentality of an only child in a lot of ways. I’m independent. I’m used to taking the blame for nothing and everything all at once. I don’t like to share. I really don’t like to share. What’s mine is mine and yea, that’s how that goes.

Probably doesn’t help that I’m an Aries. We are fairly territorial about loved ones and friends, but the point that I’m making is, I’ve always had to share so I think that’s why I don’t like to. An only child that had to share her parents, one living in South America until she was 18 making a new family, and another who worked 3 jobs for most of her life. There has never been a time that I’ve felt like something or someone was mine. I don’t mean ownership. As for something, every activity I was involved in, I shared the accomplishments with groups of people. As for people, I mean their attention, their affection, their devotion, that type of “mine”. Granted as people we all have faults and hang-ups but how hard is it to really come across someone who has some sort of grasp on who they are, what they want and where they are going?

As far as I can see, it’s tough. I mean a lot of people are “yes men/women”. They agree to all different kinds of things to pursue a relationship with someone they don’t really connect with so it isn’t until shortly after (if you’re lucky) or decades later (if you’re not so lucky) that the layers of so-called truth begin to peel and you see them for who they really are. They shed that snake skin and become a completely different shade altogether. How many people can really be real with themselves and the ones they claim to love? I guess what I’m saying is I’m tired of sharing what I hold close with other people with individuals/situations that have robbed them of their ability to feel secure, to love, to feel worthy. I’m tired of sharing the things I’m good at with wasted time at a job where I am unappreciated, undervalued and disrespected. I’m tired of sharing the best parts of me with friends and family who take advantage. I want to be stingy. I want to be stingy and feel right in my stinginess. Is that a bad thing?

balancing.act.

a series of tight rope wires connect to my lifeline
life lines
life
lies
hard - wired for extreme perfection
or reproachable failure
is the red wire or the blue?
the beginning or the end?
the long one or the short one?
just one more thing to rue

posture poised and ready to walk forward
look ahead
never look down or to the sides
where the instability in uncertainty
is mysteriously disguised
in empty promises and dreams
masked in lips that move words
to make mountains seem small
the reality of that emotionless mirage
left with nothing but air to capture
your embarrassing fall

up again, scabs become battle wounds
and tears dry in patches of white
the future hangs in the balance
just have to keep the drive to fight