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Book Review: Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld
10 years ago
Tumblr.
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
Hello all,
I have moved my blogging to tumblr.
specifically
http://keledaesstorys.tumblr.com/
I am not deleting this blog, I just won't be updating it very often. My new stories, and writing will go to my tumblr blog, but I will still be checking up on my friends here!
just wanted you all to know.
I have moved my blogging to tumblr.
specifically
http://keledaesstorys.tumblr.com/
I am not deleting this blog, I just won't be updating it very often. My new stories, and writing will go to my tumblr blog, but I will still be checking up on my friends here!
just wanted you all to know.
Short Poem
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
"The Things I miss"
I miss the hot lights of the stage
and the soft lights in your eyes
I miss the adrenaline rush of applause
and the soft thrill when you arrive
I lay awake at night and think of you
and when I sleep I dream of the things I used to do
I miss the hot lights of the stage
and the soft lights in your eyes
I miss the adrenaline rush of applause
and the soft thrill when you arrive
I lay awake at night and think of you
and when I sleep I dream of the things I used to do
YAY YAY YAY!!!!
Posted by
Keledae
comments (0)
Ok, so I thought I had lost these stories forever ago, but truth be told. I haven't (YAY YAY YA!!!!) so, I am going to post them here for you to read. This is the beginning of one of my novels entitled "Backstory" it is a compilation of all of my character backgrounds from role playing games (Dungeons and Dragons, Shadowrun, Veren5, Werewolf and Vampire) and I am very excited about finding it again. I will continue to write on it and I will post new chapters as they are finished. I hope you enjoy it!
Backstory: Chapter One
A woman with surpassingly bright purple eyes steps onto the path in front of me. She is faster than I am, and before I can react she slides cold steel into my stomach. Or is it steel? No, it's ice, a cloud of ice. It's draining the life from me, I can't move. I always thought I would panic when it was time for me to die, or that it would happen so quickly I wouldn't even know it had happened. I fall to the ground, only a few yards away from the camp of some one who could help me, a warlock, but he can't see us. The woman smiles at me and sits down. She is going to watch me die...
I look at her from my icy prison, the shards digging through me now, they will shred my insides, but they leave no outward visible mark.
"So, little half-elf. Tell me your story, I'm bored." she says this with a disdain that is uncanny. I've never encountered a person so uncaring. She's killing me for no reason, and now she wants me to entertain her!!!!! But...someone should know my story...
I close my eyes, and take a painful, stinging breath.
"I was born in Validan, the daughter of Theriath Fallan, the Archer Marshall of the Elven Kingdom. My mother was a human, Cathien...I never knew my mothers true last name." my chest clenches and I gasp in pain. She smiles. "When I was four, my mother ran away with another human. She left me with my father..." the pain becomes too much for me as the icy splinters began to burrow into my lungs, and my heart. I double over on the ground, my legs muscles have started to cramp and black spots are popping in and out of my vision. Blood begins to trickle from my mouth, it chokes me. She laughs.
"Perhaps you will be entertaining" her voice is musical, like crystalline bells, it's a beautiful as she is."But save your breath, I will collect your story. I have a journal you see, I like to know the people that I kill." she pulls a small scroll from her pouch and reads it aloud, I don't understand the words, but....
"AAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!!!" the scream eviscerates my throat and vocal chords as it is ripped from me, it is the most unendurable agony I have ever felt. There is a hand in my brain! I can feel my memories, draining from me, through my eyes, blood pours through my tear ducts, I see flashes of my family, my friends, my scimitars....
The petite frame of the half-elf girl falls prone, the blood memory drain has finally finished her off. The purple-eyed woman looks down at the scroll, the fresh letters and words that are scrolling there of their own will are written in the dead girls blood. The woman blows on the sinister ink to make sure it doesn't smudge, she settles herself across from the dead body at the foot of tree. She begins to read:
---------
The sun-light cut through the heavy forest canopy on that late summer afternoon giving a golden edge to the leaves that were already bursting out with autumn hues. A butterfly lifted itself up into the gentle breeze that caused the trees to dance and sway in contentment. And then the quiet was shattered as squirrels and birds rushed to get higher, chattering and scolding amidst the scratching and flapping of wings, and under it all was a wailing that chilled the heart.
That wailing originated from the small but powerful lungs of a young girl. She appeared to be around ten years old, and she was weeping. Each string of tears was accompanied by that deep and harrowing call that was almost a scream and punctuated with dry, retching sobs. The girl is curled on the moss covered roots of a very old and gnarled tree. Her hair, which seems to change from gold to a fierce orange-red depending on how the light hits it, hangs in tangles and knots around her knees which are currently supporting her shoulders and her entire body is heaving in and out as she cries, accented by a continuous trembling. It seems her body is weary of such pain and as she tires her wailing becomes hoarse and quiet until it is no more than a strangled moan, and then small quiet sobbing. A man steps out of the trees in front of her and gazes at her intently.
"Sedara" his voice is smooth and deep, but not low. He speaks softly to her, and kneels down, placing a hand on her head.
She looks up at his touch, her porcelain face is a checkerboard of red splotches and dirty tear streaks that lead to her shocking grey-green eyes.
"Why?" her voice squeaks with the singular word and she topples sideways into the man, who opens his arms to receive her. For a moment they both just sit and listen to the rustle of returning wildlife. The little girl has finally stopped crying and she seems to be at peace there, in the mans arms.
"I don't know." his answer is soft and yet solid.
"Will she come back?"
"No, Sedara, honey. It's been six years, I know that doesn't seem very long to you or I, but you mother is a human, and six years is long enough for her to simply forget and move on." He hugs the child close to him, and then begins to gently rake his fingers through her mass of tangles, smoothing out her hair. She sits and allows him to comb out her hair, and she seems comfortable, like this is something they have done before.
"I love you dad." she whispers.
---------------
A small trickle of blood trails down from an autumn colored hair-line, leaving a sticky red line in the dust that covers Sedara's face. Her training scimitars lay just out of reach having flown out of her hands when she fell after taking that blow to the head from the weapons master.
"Remember that aggression is never the best way to win a battle, young one." The buttery voice of Zerilin the Weapons Master of Validan floated over Sedara as she lay in dirt. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at her overzealous mistake.
"I will remember, Weapons Master." she said softly but firmly as she lifted herself off the ground. Zerilin reached towards her face, his hands beginning to form the signs of healing in the air.
"No." she whispered, and he froze, his concentration broken, a look a bemused puzzlement on his face. "I wish to wear the scar, so that I can be reminded of this lesson."
"It will be one of the most valuable lessons you will ever learn. Good day young apprentice." his eyes smiled, even though his voice had gone flat with dissaproval of her choice. She watched him saunter away, and raised a hand to the cut on her forehead wiping away the already drying line of blood. She felt the small wound with her fingertips, wincing as it stung. Then she gathered her weapons and turned on her heel abruptly. The other students watched as she slowly left the training grounds, they were in awe of her, and her candor with the Master. She didn't notice.
----------
Koraine stood up from in between two large roots at the base of the tree and stretched herself. Her long black hair rippled into place over her silver tinted, custom formed feyleather armor. She carefully rolled the blood-inked scroll and replaced it in her pack and surveyed the dead girl in front of her. What to do with her now? she thought. She looked at her surroundings, the lush forest was full of places for her to easily hide her latest quarry, but somehow it just didn't seem fitting. Or entertaining, for that matter.
The crackling sound of small feet on the underbrush made her look up. A young boy was running to the nearby warlocks camp She smiled to herself, the warlock was more than entertaining, he was interesting. Well, his small companion was interesting, he was actually rather bland. However, one does what one must to achieve her goals. The girl was a traveling companion of his. The thought broke in her brain like a refreshing wave, she bent over the form of the little ranger and hauled her up over her shoulders. As quietly as possible she took her macabre package to the bass of a tree that faced the warlocks camp where she arranged the body into a gruesome imitation of a ranger on watch. And now to wait. Again she smiled to herself, getting this creature was going to be fun, she could tell.
Koraine swung her lithe body up into a lower branch of the tree her spiritless companion now leaned on. She thought of the warlock and how he had walked into that dilapidated hell-hole of a tavern and everyone noticed. It was like someone had come in waving a treasure chest over their head. All because he was talking to a ferret looking creature. Such a magnificent creature! she shifted her weight on the branch and leaned forward to lay over her victim.
While she waited, she began to think back over her own life. The dead half-elf's story had prompted her own memories. She was also from the Kingdom of the Elves, quite close to Validan actually. Only in proximity, in truth Validan was worlds apart from Serath the capital city center of the Eladrin. And her family had been it's shinning star, her father Kilthlan sat at the head of the council of Eladrin. He spoke visions for the future, he saw things, and could interpret them and many came to him for guidance. Her mother, Nicaley was a gifted healer, she was sought far and wide, by Eldarin and every other race on the planet for her skill. But the pride and joy of both of her parents had been Koraine and Nielith, their twin girls.
Nielith was the older girl, her moon hung delicately over her right eye, and her golden hair curled around her exquisite feature. Koraine was around three minutes younger than Nielith, and she was her opposite in appearance: Black hair that hung in waves instead of curls, fair skin instead of olive-toned, and her deep purple eyes shown just a little too brightly, and were much more attention catching than her sisters sapphire blue ones. Perhaps the strangest difference had to be that Koraines tell-tale Eladrin moon mark hung in silver highlights in her hair rather than coming to appear on her skin as was the usual occurrence.
In personality they were different as well. Koraine was a fighter, she loved the feel of a longsword in her hands, but she excelled at the quarterstaff, and her focus in learning to wield the feywild magic had been in combat. Nielith was a peaceful creature, she took her delight in simple things, like gardening and weaving, but above all she was a songstress, a minstrel of sorts and her focus of the feywild was in that area. When she sang and told tales the entire audience would fall into a trance and Koraine had loved to listen to her older sister. She would come home at night and beg her for tales, and Nielith would laugh gaily and then settle into her bed across the room and spin the most magical tales of heroism and adventure for her sister. Koraine never made it to the end of these night time tales, she would drift to sleep somewhere in the middle and let the heroes and villains wander in and out of her dreams. She never told her sister, but it was the villains who were her favorites, they always seemed to have so much more power, they were just short on luck and sometimes, very short on skill. She would never have those problems, but she desired the power those evil men and women wielded more than anything else she could think of.
Koraine was sitting among the other young people of Serath, listening to her sisters latest creation. Nieliths voice spun out and through the ears and imaginations of her audience. It was a violent tale, a knight had come to kill the Eldarin king of old, the King was backed into a corner and the knight was preparing to land a killing stroke. Koraine felt a tingle in her brain, as the knight lifted his broadsword in the story, Koraine lifted her hand, and the air turned to ice. Nieliths eyes widened in terror and pain as she was surrounded by the chill air and then penetrated by it in fast moving splinters. Her eyes locked with Koraines, and her face paled as Koraine smiled sweetly at her. Nielith opened her mouth and the shards of frozen air rushed to fill the space. Blood gushed from between Nieliths lips, Koraine felt herself began to laugh, it was as if she were watching everything happen in slow motion. Someone screamed.
Koraines parents came running, her father spoke and the ice dissipated. Her mother rushed to Nielith. After three days of constant treatment, Nicoley emerged from her daughters side.
"She will live." her eyes bore into Koraine with a mixture of horror, sympathy, hate and love"But she will never speak again, I couldn't save her tongue."
Koraine watched as her mother turned on her heel and went back to her ailing daughter, then she turned her gaze to her father. His face looked as though it were made of stone. His eyes glazed over Koraine, as if she didn't exist. So Koraine fled his presence to sort out her feelings. I have to go. I don't belong here, I don't look like them, and I smiled when my sister was in danger. I put her in danger. And I felt like laughing. The realization had been too much. Koraine then gathered up her belongings, and without trying to hide it, she walked out of the family home. Past her mother in her sisters room, and past her rather, who still looked like a statue. She never saw them again.
She had traveled among the kingdoms of the Eladrin at first, for close to thirty years, she learned the magical arts, and mastered a weapon or two. But everywhere she went she could not escape her longing for more. Her need to hurt. So she had left the kingdom. And wandered into Orkney, and now, after 25 years of waiting, it seemed her life was going to get interesting.
The child had finished speaking to the warlock, and so Koraine sat up. As he turned in her direction she smiled. He looked at his traveling companion, and then up, at Koraine. She laughed and smiled for him. Then she joined him on the path. That creature would soon be hers. Her purple eyes sparkled gleefully at the thought as she walked down the path, she turned to look behind her only once more, and winked playfully at the corpse of the half-elf girl, Sedara as if to say "It seems you weren't so important to him after all."
Backstory: Chapter One
A woman with surpassingly bright purple eyes steps onto the path in front of me. She is faster than I am, and before I can react she slides cold steel into my stomach. Or is it steel? No, it's ice, a cloud of ice. It's draining the life from me, I can't move. I always thought I would panic when it was time for me to die, or that it would happen so quickly I wouldn't even know it had happened. I fall to the ground, only a few yards away from the camp of some one who could help me, a warlock, but he can't see us. The woman smiles at me and sits down. She is going to watch me die...
I look at her from my icy prison, the shards digging through me now, they will shred my insides, but they leave no outward visible mark.
"So, little half-elf. Tell me your story, I'm bored." she says this with a disdain that is uncanny. I've never encountered a person so uncaring. She's killing me for no reason, and now she wants me to entertain her!!!!! But...someone should know my story...
I close my eyes, and take a painful, stinging breath.
"I was born in Validan, the daughter of Theriath Fallan, the Archer Marshall of the Elven Kingdom. My mother was a human, Cathien...I never knew my mothers true last name." my chest clenches and I gasp in pain. She smiles. "When I was four, my mother ran away with another human. She left me with my father..." the pain becomes too much for me as the icy splinters began to burrow into my lungs, and my heart. I double over on the ground, my legs muscles have started to cramp and black spots are popping in and out of my vision. Blood begins to trickle from my mouth, it chokes me. She laughs.
"Perhaps you will be entertaining" her voice is musical, like crystalline bells, it's a beautiful as she is."But save your breath, I will collect your story. I have a journal you see, I like to know the people that I kill." she pulls a small scroll from her pouch and reads it aloud, I don't understand the words, but....
"AAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!!!" the scream eviscerates my throat and vocal chords as it is ripped from me, it is the most unendurable agony I have ever felt. There is a hand in my brain! I can feel my memories, draining from me, through my eyes, blood pours through my tear ducts, I see flashes of my family, my friends, my scimitars....
The petite frame of the half-elf girl falls prone, the blood memory drain has finally finished her off. The purple-eyed woman looks down at the scroll, the fresh letters and words that are scrolling there of their own will are written in the dead girls blood. The woman blows on the sinister ink to make sure it doesn't smudge, she settles herself across from the dead body at the foot of tree. She begins to read:
---------
The sun-light cut through the heavy forest canopy on that late summer afternoon giving a golden edge to the leaves that were already bursting out with autumn hues. A butterfly lifted itself up into the gentle breeze that caused the trees to dance and sway in contentment. And then the quiet was shattered as squirrels and birds rushed to get higher, chattering and scolding amidst the scratching and flapping of wings, and under it all was a wailing that chilled the heart.
That wailing originated from the small but powerful lungs of a young girl. She appeared to be around ten years old, and she was weeping. Each string of tears was accompanied by that deep and harrowing call that was almost a scream and punctuated with dry, retching sobs. The girl is curled on the moss covered roots of a very old and gnarled tree. Her hair, which seems to change from gold to a fierce orange-red depending on how the light hits it, hangs in tangles and knots around her knees which are currently supporting her shoulders and her entire body is heaving in and out as she cries, accented by a continuous trembling. It seems her body is weary of such pain and as she tires her wailing becomes hoarse and quiet until it is no more than a strangled moan, and then small quiet sobbing. A man steps out of the trees in front of her and gazes at her intently.
"Sedara" his voice is smooth and deep, but not low. He speaks softly to her, and kneels down, placing a hand on her head.
She looks up at his touch, her porcelain face is a checkerboard of red splotches and dirty tear streaks that lead to her shocking grey-green eyes.
"Why?" her voice squeaks with the singular word and she topples sideways into the man, who opens his arms to receive her. For a moment they both just sit and listen to the rustle of returning wildlife. The little girl has finally stopped crying and she seems to be at peace there, in the mans arms.
"I don't know." his answer is soft and yet solid.
"Will she come back?"
"No, Sedara, honey. It's been six years, I know that doesn't seem very long to you or I, but you mother is a human, and six years is long enough for her to simply forget and move on." He hugs the child close to him, and then begins to gently rake his fingers through her mass of tangles, smoothing out her hair. She sits and allows him to comb out her hair, and she seems comfortable, like this is something they have done before.
"I love you dad." she whispers.
---------------
A small trickle of blood trails down from an autumn colored hair-line, leaving a sticky red line in the dust that covers Sedara's face. Her training scimitars lay just out of reach having flown out of her hands when she fell after taking that blow to the head from the weapons master.
"Remember that aggression is never the best way to win a battle, young one." The buttery voice of Zerilin the Weapons Master of Validan floated over Sedara as she lay in dirt. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at her overzealous mistake.
"I will remember, Weapons Master." she said softly but firmly as she lifted herself off the ground. Zerilin reached towards her face, his hands beginning to form the signs of healing in the air.
"No." she whispered, and he froze, his concentration broken, a look a bemused puzzlement on his face. "I wish to wear the scar, so that I can be reminded of this lesson."
"It will be one of the most valuable lessons you will ever learn. Good day young apprentice." his eyes smiled, even though his voice had gone flat with dissaproval of her choice. She watched him saunter away, and raised a hand to the cut on her forehead wiping away the already drying line of blood. She felt the small wound with her fingertips, wincing as it stung. Then she gathered her weapons and turned on her heel abruptly. The other students watched as she slowly left the training grounds, they were in awe of her, and her candor with the Master. She didn't notice.
----------
Koraine stood up from in between two large roots at the base of the tree and stretched herself. Her long black hair rippled into place over her silver tinted, custom formed feyleather armor. She carefully rolled the blood-inked scroll and replaced it in her pack and surveyed the dead girl in front of her. What to do with her now? she thought. She looked at her surroundings, the lush forest was full of places for her to easily hide her latest quarry, but somehow it just didn't seem fitting. Or entertaining, for that matter.
The crackling sound of small feet on the underbrush made her look up. A young boy was running to the nearby warlocks camp She smiled to herself, the warlock was more than entertaining, he was interesting. Well, his small companion was interesting, he was actually rather bland. However, one does what one must to achieve her goals. The girl was a traveling companion of his. The thought broke in her brain like a refreshing wave, she bent over the form of the little ranger and hauled her up over her shoulders. As quietly as possible she took her macabre package to the bass of a tree that faced the warlocks camp where she arranged the body into a gruesome imitation of a ranger on watch. And now to wait. Again she smiled to herself, getting this creature was going to be fun, she could tell.
Koraine swung her lithe body up into a lower branch of the tree her spiritless companion now leaned on. She thought of the warlock and how he had walked into that dilapidated hell-hole of a tavern and everyone noticed. It was like someone had come in waving a treasure chest over their head. All because he was talking to a ferret looking creature. Such a magnificent creature! she shifted her weight on the branch and leaned forward to lay over her victim.
While she waited, she began to think back over her own life. The dead half-elf's story had prompted her own memories. She was also from the Kingdom of the Elves, quite close to Validan actually. Only in proximity, in truth Validan was worlds apart from Serath the capital city center of the Eladrin. And her family had been it's shinning star, her father Kilthlan sat at the head of the council of Eladrin. He spoke visions for the future, he saw things, and could interpret them and many came to him for guidance. Her mother, Nicaley was a gifted healer, she was sought far and wide, by Eldarin and every other race on the planet for her skill. But the pride and joy of both of her parents had been Koraine and Nielith, their twin girls.
Nielith was the older girl, her moon hung delicately over her right eye, and her golden hair curled around her exquisite feature. Koraine was around three minutes younger than Nielith, and she was her opposite in appearance: Black hair that hung in waves instead of curls, fair skin instead of olive-toned, and her deep purple eyes shown just a little too brightly, and were much more attention catching than her sisters sapphire blue ones. Perhaps the strangest difference had to be that Koraines tell-tale Eladrin moon mark hung in silver highlights in her hair rather than coming to appear on her skin as was the usual occurrence.
In personality they were different as well. Koraine was a fighter, she loved the feel of a longsword in her hands, but she excelled at the quarterstaff, and her focus in learning to wield the feywild magic had been in combat. Nielith was a peaceful creature, she took her delight in simple things, like gardening and weaving, but above all she was a songstress, a minstrel of sorts and her focus of the feywild was in that area. When she sang and told tales the entire audience would fall into a trance and Koraine had loved to listen to her older sister. She would come home at night and beg her for tales, and Nielith would laugh gaily and then settle into her bed across the room and spin the most magical tales of heroism and adventure for her sister. Koraine never made it to the end of these night time tales, she would drift to sleep somewhere in the middle and let the heroes and villains wander in and out of her dreams. She never told her sister, but it was the villains who were her favorites, they always seemed to have so much more power, they were just short on luck and sometimes, very short on skill. She would never have those problems, but she desired the power those evil men and women wielded more than anything else she could think of.
Koraine was sitting among the other young people of Serath, listening to her sisters latest creation. Nieliths voice spun out and through the ears and imaginations of her audience. It was a violent tale, a knight had come to kill the Eldarin king of old, the King was backed into a corner and the knight was preparing to land a killing stroke. Koraine felt a tingle in her brain, as the knight lifted his broadsword in the story, Koraine lifted her hand, and the air turned to ice. Nieliths eyes widened in terror and pain as she was surrounded by the chill air and then penetrated by it in fast moving splinters. Her eyes locked with Koraines, and her face paled as Koraine smiled sweetly at her. Nielith opened her mouth and the shards of frozen air rushed to fill the space. Blood gushed from between Nieliths lips, Koraine felt herself began to laugh, it was as if she were watching everything happen in slow motion. Someone screamed.
Koraines parents came running, her father spoke and the ice dissipated. Her mother rushed to Nielith. After three days of constant treatment, Nicoley emerged from her daughters side.
"She will live." her eyes bore into Koraine with a mixture of horror, sympathy, hate and love"But she will never speak again, I couldn't save her tongue."
Koraine watched as her mother turned on her heel and went back to her ailing daughter, then she turned her gaze to her father. His face looked as though it were made of stone. His eyes glazed over Koraine, as if she didn't exist. So Koraine fled his presence to sort out her feelings. I have to go. I don't belong here, I don't look like them, and I smiled when my sister was in danger. I put her in danger. And I felt like laughing. The realization had been too much. Koraine then gathered up her belongings, and without trying to hide it, she walked out of the family home. Past her mother in her sisters room, and past her rather, who still looked like a statue. She never saw them again.
She had traveled among the kingdoms of the Eladrin at first, for close to thirty years, she learned the magical arts, and mastered a weapon or two. But everywhere she went she could not escape her longing for more. Her need to hurt. So she had left the kingdom. And wandered into Orkney, and now, after 25 years of waiting, it seemed her life was going to get interesting.
The child had finished speaking to the warlock, and so Koraine sat up. As he turned in her direction she smiled. He looked at his traveling companion, and then up, at Koraine. She laughed and smiled for him. Then she joined him on the path. That creature would soon be hers. Her purple eyes sparkled gleefully at the thought as she walked down the path, she turned to look behind her only once more, and winked playfully at the corpse of the half-elf girl, Sedara as if to say "It seems you weren't so important to him after all."
Triumph
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
A moment of Triumph
That should have been
Becomes something
Humiliating instead
The blandest lyrics
Can inspire a melody
But music’s blood
Is not as sustaining
As it should be
Like a song that’s not quite right
Or a tossing and turning night
When the horrors break through
Refusing to let you go
Upside down is all you know
Such a roar of quiet sounds
Stillness in the mind
Resounding balance
That is hard to find
Lying or speaking truth
Neither one can soothe
When embarrassment
Replaces the moment
Long awaited
Now abated
Unresolved and perplexing
Provides inspiration
Rather than gratification
What should have been
Becomes what not yet is
Recycling a blush
The world is upside down again
That should have been
Becomes something
Humiliating instead
The blandest lyrics
Can inspire a melody
But music’s blood
Is not as sustaining
As it should be
Like a song that’s not quite right
Or a tossing and turning night
When the horrors break through
Refusing to let you go
Upside down is all you know
Such a roar of quiet sounds
Stillness in the mind
Resounding balance
That is hard to find
Lying or speaking truth
Neither one can soothe
When embarrassment
Replaces the moment
Long awaited
Now abated
Unresolved and perplexing
Provides inspiration
Rather than gratification
What should have been
Becomes what not yet is
Recycling a blush
The world is upside down again
Full Bodied
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
Well, this is it. My very first Christmas away from home. And let's start this mostly positive speal off with the negative and get it out of the way. I'm in a great deal of pain. I have what I like to think of (not experience) as a full body headache, meaning everything from my pinky toe to my shoulder blades HURTS. Why? I have no idea, but let me tell you, this constant ache is making my spirits falter, not from any lack of enjoyment, but from shear exhaustion, it's draining to function day in and day out with this kind of pain. I've had it for almost a week, and no medication that I have tried even touches it. *sigh* oh well, moving on
Today has been a day of highs of lows, the highs all being this morning, the lows started this afternoon. With my love gone off to work, I acknowledge my pain more, and it's distracting. I'm making my first Christmas dinner, while cleaning the house, and I decided to bake the cake first so it would have time to cool, so, naturally, I spilled about half the dry mix all over the kitchen. WONDERFUL. This crap, is a pain in the ass to clean up off of literally surface in the room, but I managed it. I cut the recipe in half, added a couple of new ingredients, and the cake is cooling on the counter as I type this (while I should be starting the laundry I might add) and it smells mouthwatering. So that's one disaster avoided.
Now all that's left is to do the laundry, straighten up the living room, bedroom and bathroom. Make the potatoes, the rolls, the veggies, the glaze and put the ham in the oven. Take a shower, and get myself all pretty for tonight's festivities. Did I mention I have about three hours in which to make this happen. Yeah. Gtg.
oh
Merry Christmas Everyone!
Today has been a day of highs of lows, the highs all being this morning, the lows started this afternoon. With my love gone off to work, I acknowledge my pain more, and it's distracting. I'm making my first Christmas dinner, while cleaning the house, and I decided to bake the cake first so it would have time to cool, so, naturally, I spilled about half the dry mix all over the kitchen. WONDERFUL. This crap, is a pain in the ass to clean up off of literally surface in the room, but I managed it. I cut the recipe in half, added a couple of new ingredients, and the cake is cooling on the counter as I type this (while I should be starting the laundry I might add) and it smells mouthwatering. So that's one disaster avoided.
Now all that's left is to do the laundry, straighten up the living room, bedroom and bathroom. Make the potatoes, the rolls, the veggies, the glaze and put the ham in the oven. Take a shower, and get myself all pretty for tonight's festivities. Did I mention I have about three hours in which to make this happen. Yeah. Gtg.
oh
Merry Christmas Everyone!
I've been Tagged....
Posted by
Keledae
comments (3)
Okay so here's how it goes. You take your music player (whether it be your ipod, MP3, computer, CD player, etc.) and put it on shuffle. Then you answer its question with a different song that popped up while it was on shuffle. Then you'll tag some other people. Please give the reason why you're tagging them. Here's mine, this is pretty cool:
Are you male or female? Scared- Three Days Grace
What do people feel when they are around you? Everything I Am - DJ Premiere
Describe your current relationship? Blood and Whiskey- Dropkick Murphys (hehehe)
Where would you like to be right now? Reality- Newsboys (uh...)
How do you feel about love? Until the End- SevenD2
Whats your life like? This Is Who You Are- Trans Siberian Orchestra
What would you wish for if you only had one wish? Take Me Away- Avril Lavigne
Say something wise? Heaven- Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra
If someone says "Is this okay. . ." You say? Liberate- Disturbed
How would you describe yourself? I Won't Say I'm in Love- Hercules Soundtrack
How do you feel today? Shine On- Rascal Flats
What is your life's purpose? I Put a Spell on You- CCR (lol)
What is your motto? Angel of Music- Phantom of the Opera
What do your friends think of you? Baby Got Back- Sir Mix Alot (ahahahahahahahaha)
What do you think of your parents? Lovely- Deep Side
What do you think of very often? Camisado- Panic! at the Disco
What is 2+2? A Rose For The Dead- Nightwish
What do you think of your best friend? A Tree for My Bed- John Williams (Jurassic Park)
What is you life story? The Nearness of You- Norah Jones
What do you want to be when you grow up? Playing God- Paramore
What will you dance to at your wedding? Like a Boss- The Lonely Island (OMG!)
What will they play at your funeral? Prodigal- OneRepublic
What is your hobby/interest? My Friend's Over You- New Found Glory
What is your biggest fear? In the Still of the Night- The Five Satins
What is your biggest secret? Come What May- Ewan McGregor (Moulin Rouge)
What do you think of your friends? Come on Over- Shania Twain
---------------
Well, that's it. Some of it almost makes sense, but mostly it made me giggle.
Le'Andra- because I want to know what your playlist will do
Gus- Just Because
Esther- you do the music thing
Luke- Yeah, you know why.
Are you male or female? Scared- Three Days Grace
What do people feel when they are around you? Everything I Am - DJ Premiere
Describe your current relationship? Blood and Whiskey- Dropkick Murphys (hehehe)
Where would you like to be right now? Reality- Newsboys (uh...)
How do you feel about love? Until the End- SevenD2
Whats your life like? This Is Who You Are- Trans Siberian Orchestra
What would you wish for if you only had one wish? Take Me Away- Avril Lavigne
Say something wise? Heaven- Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra
If someone says "Is this okay. . ." You say? Liberate- Disturbed
How would you describe yourself? I Won't Say I'm in Love- Hercules Soundtrack
How do you feel today? Shine On- Rascal Flats
What is your life's purpose? I Put a Spell on You- CCR (lol)
What is your motto? Angel of Music- Phantom of the Opera
What do your friends think of you? Baby Got Back- Sir Mix Alot (ahahahahahahahaha)
What do you think of your parents? Lovely- Deep Side
What do you think of very often? Camisado- Panic! at the Disco
What is 2+2? A Rose For The Dead- Nightwish
What do you think of your best friend? A Tree for My Bed- John Williams (Jurassic Park)
What is you life story? The Nearness of You- Norah Jones
What do you want to be when you grow up? Playing God- Paramore
What will you dance to at your wedding? Like a Boss- The Lonely Island (OMG!)
What will they play at your funeral? Prodigal- OneRepublic
What is your hobby/interest? My Friend's Over You- New Found Glory
What is your biggest fear? In the Still of the Night- The Five Satins
What is your biggest secret? Come What May- Ewan McGregor (Moulin Rouge)
What do you think of your friends? Come on Over- Shania Twain
---------------
Well, that's it. Some of it almost makes sense, but mostly it made me giggle.
Le'Andra- because I want to know what your playlist will do
Gus- Just Because
Esther- you do the music thing
Luke- Yeah, you know why.
Coming in out of the cold
Posted by
Keledae
comments (4)
Winter. Brrrr. I hate this weather, and the shorter days and to be honest I haven't enjoyed the Christmas holidays or even looked forward to them in going on 6 years. But THIS year. This year, everything is different. You know, I think I might actually learn to enjoy Christmas music again? Weird. Now, don't get me wrong I still hate the contemporary, whiny, depressing, obnoxious ballads. But the old stuff, the crooner stuff, the Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Trans Siberian Orchestra stuff, yeah, that I can dig. I went shopping with my mom for decorations and a tree, and it was fun. I hate shopping, but this was cool, it's strange really. This year, I've realized a few things about myself.
1. I've been depressed, mildly, but still depressed. I didn't even know. I mean, I pay a fair amount of attention to myself, to my mental state, but I didn't even catch it. I knew I was unhappy, but, not the extent of that unhappiness.
2. I've been a major drag on the holidays. To my family, my friends, to everyone. I've been almost malicious. Sorry about that.
3. Not to be totally off topic, but the fight in Obsessed, is pretty damn good. I'm impressed.
So, you ask. What's so different about this year? And my answer? Everything. Most notably, my emotional state of euphoria. There are several reasons for that, not the least of them being finally taking the time to take stock of my life, to see what I've been putting up with, who I've been dealing with, the people in my life that are toxic to my state of well being. The habits, the things I've participated in that have aided in my own self destruction. These things, these people, are no longer a part of me. I've been able to find my true base of friends, realize who it is that I actually miss and who I don't care to re-invite into my daily life. I've settled into my self again, the happy, buoyant, logical, creative, inquisitive, confident, caring woman that I have always been, underneath all that pain that I held on to for so long. But do you know the best part of all this change? The biggest and most fulfilling thing that has ever happened to me in my life? Well, that's easy....
Christian.
He is as much a part of my transformation as I am. I love him. More than I know how to say, and it's absolutely wonderful. I am looking forward to building my life with him, to making our home together, and it all starts in 5Th gear this Saturday. Two days from now, I will no longer be coming home to my mom, but to my love and he will come home to me (scary huh?) and this winter, well, thanks to him, it just might not be so cold. :)
1. I've been depressed, mildly, but still depressed. I didn't even know. I mean, I pay a fair amount of attention to myself, to my mental state, but I didn't even catch it. I knew I was unhappy, but, not the extent of that unhappiness.
2. I've been a major drag on the holidays. To my family, my friends, to everyone. I've been almost malicious. Sorry about that.
3. Not to be totally off topic, but the fight in Obsessed, is pretty damn good. I'm impressed.
So, you ask. What's so different about this year? And my answer? Everything. Most notably, my emotional state of euphoria. There are several reasons for that, not the least of them being finally taking the time to take stock of my life, to see what I've been putting up with, who I've been dealing with, the people in my life that are toxic to my state of well being. The habits, the things I've participated in that have aided in my own self destruction. These things, these people, are no longer a part of me. I've been able to find my true base of friends, realize who it is that I actually miss and who I don't care to re-invite into my daily life. I've settled into my self again, the happy, buoyant, logical, creative, inquisitive, confident, caring woman that I have always been, underneath all that pain that I held on to for so long. But do you know the best part of all this change? The biggest and most fulfilling thing that has ever happened to me in my life? Well, that's easy....
Christian.
He is as much a part of my transformation as I am. I love him. More than I know how to say, and it's absolutely wonderful. I am looking forward to building my life with him, to making our home together, and it all starts in 5Th gear this Saturday. Two days from now, I will no longer be coming home to my mom, but to my love and he will come home to me (scary huh?) and this winter, well, thanks to him, it just might not be so cold. :)
All the things in Never
Posted by
Keledae
comments (4)
Never say Never
because you Never know
Oh the faces
On the People
In the places
You'll Never go
Never say Never
but say that I said
It's weird to discover
that things still fit
Never say Never
because you Never can tell
which little slip up
will land you in the well
Never say Never
because language
is not a tasty dish
Words are for saying
that way they are more fun
Never say Never
and Never let it die
Set backs and draw backs
should be looked in the eye
Try not to regret
or your past will lead your life
Never say Never
and do not shy from strife
Embrace the surprises
that life throws your way
Going back on Never,
could make you very happy some day
-------------------
So, I've been doing a lot of thinking, and a lot of talking too. To people who thought that what I'm doing, is something I would never do. To be honest, I agreed with them, effectively most of the time. It's funny how things turn out, I guess. But I am getting tired of the disappointed sighs when I tell people I'm moving back again. Granted most of friends are thrilled about it, but still, there is twinge of distaste. I really never wanted, to go back to that place. But, I've set the wheels in motion, and I'm happier than ever, I've made a few changes that will leave a sour taste in some mouths, but for me, it's going to be better. And that is what I have to do, to be able to live with this choice. I have to make some changes, break some habits, cut out some people, and live with it. Part of me feels bad for doing things this way, but most of me is logical enough to get over it. I don't really know how to express the things that I am feeling. But someday, I suppose it will all be overlooked, by some one Else's drama, or a maturity of minds. The later would be nice, but it is the least likely. And isn't that a little sad? I think it is.
Anyway, it's hard to defend my actions to the people mentioned above, and most of me is of the mind that I shouldn't have to anyway. It feels weird to me, all of this change. But it's for the better, I can tell. I just, I don't know what to say sometimes, and that makes me feel unstable. Words have always been my choice expression, so when they fail me, I feel off balance. I guess I should just not care, what society has to say about my choices. I never have before, so why start now? Good question.
because you Never know
Oh the faces
On the People
In the places
You'll Never go
Never say Never
but say that I said
It's weird to discover
that things still fit
Never say Never
because you Never can tell
which little slip up
will land you in the well
Never say Never
because language
is not a tasty dish
Words are for saying
that way they are more fun
Never say Never
and Never let it die
Set backs and draw backs
should be looked in the eye
Try not to regret
or your past will lead your life
Never say Never
and do not shy from strife
Embrace the surprises
that life throws your way
Going back on Never,
could make you very happy some day
-------------------
So, I've been doing a lot of thinking, and a lot of talking too. To people who thought that what I'm doing, is something I would never do. To be honest, I agreed with them, effectively most of the time. It's funny how things turn out, I guess. But I am getting tired of the disappointed sighs when I tell people I'm moving back again. Granted most of friends are thrilled about it, but still, there is twinge of distaste. I really never wanted, to go back to that place. But, I've set the wheels in motion, and I'm happier than ever, I've made a few changes that will leave a sour taste in some mouths, but for me, it's going to be better. And that is what I have to do, to be able to live with this choice. I have to make some changes, break some habits, cut out some people, and live with it. Part of me feels bad for doing things this way, but most of me is logical enough to get over it. I don't really know how to express the things that I am feeling. But someday, I suppose it will all be overlooked, by some one Else's drama, or a maturity of minds. The later would be nice, but it is the least likely. And isn't that a little sad? I think it is.
Anyway, it's hard to defend my actions to the people mentioned above, and most of me is of the mind that I shouldn't have to anyway. It feels weird to me, all of this change. But it's for the better, I can tell. I just, I don't know what to say sometimes, and that makes me feel unstable. Words have always been my choice expression, so when they fail me, I feel off balance. I guess I should just not care, what society has to say about my choices. I never have before, so why start now? Good question.
Third
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
So the results are in for the 3rd contest on FirstLineFiction. I took third this time. Hooray! It's gratifying to place again. I love having stuff to write about that is guaranteed a read. Although, I have to say that the story that placed 2nd is one I didn't care for at all and that stings a bit, but congrats to them anyway. Anywho... if you are interested in reading my story from this contest, well, it's below. Enjoy!
The Review
I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work.
“A delicate dance on the tongue.” That was what the review said about my ex-husbands new Merlot. I couldn’t believe it he had actually done it. I stared at the black phone on my desk like it was the killer in a b-list horror movie, stunned at the news. I don’t know how long I sat there, in my 22nd floor corner office staring at my phone. It could have been no longer than a minute, or it could have been three hours, the only thing I knew was that it would ring, and so I stared; waiting for the call that would inevitably come, but never did.
For years he had talked about owning a vineyard, it was his lifelong dream. Ever since that vacation in California when he was six, he never forgot the smell of the grapes or the way the sun shone over the fields like a blessing. It was childish awe that never left him; I used to love that about him. Me? I loved numbers. In school I excelled in math and history, I never forgot a formula or a date; I was in Advanced Placement programs and a member of the mathletes tournament squad. I was a geek. By the time high school came around I was severely aware of my social status, I was not aware that I was pretty until college. Pretty. No one had ever called me that until I came stumbling out of the science building my freshman year, tripping over the bag I just dropped on the ground. He caught me.
“Careful pretty one.” He said. Then he just walked away, leaving me staring after him thinking pretty? That was ten years ago, it took me a full semester to find him. All I knew was that he was an artist, because he was covered in splattered paint. I knew it was stupid of me to stalk the art buildings the way I did, but I was compelled, I couldn’t help it. I needed to know what he had meant by that. When I finally did find him on the second day of finals, it was in the Quad, not the art building, and when I wasn’t looking for him, naturally. I was looking at my feet, trying to master an advanced calculus theory in my head when I heard his voice. I don’t know what he was saying, or who he was saying it too, but my subconscious knew that voice. I looked up from the ground and froze. There he was, the artist, right in front of me. My feet carried me to him without my consent and I stared. He stared back with a confused expression.
“Pretty?” I finally asked.
“What?” was his confused reaction.
“You called me pretty once. Do you really think that?”
“Think what?”
“That I’m pretty?”
“Well yeah.” He laughed then so easily, unaffected by awkwardness. “Why wouldn’t I?” I fell in love with him on the spot, he was everything that I wasn’t, and everything I wanted in life. I think he knew it too.
The sudden knock on my office door brought me back to the present, and forced me to look away from my phone. My secretary came in carrying a small rectangular package; she didn’t say a word as she placed it on my desk. I think she has always been sensitive to the moods of other people, and she sensed that I didn’t want to be disturbed. I watched her walk out the door, closing it softly behind her before I turned my shell shocked attention to the green box. I knew I wasn’t ready to open it, some instinct told me that I should ignore this unexpected arrival. If only I was good at trusting my instincts, instead I pulled it to me with hands that trembled, and without bothering to read the label I tore the green paper of the box, opened it, and looked inside.
It was a wine bottle. An empty wine bottle. The light from my window glinted on the thick green glass as I turned it to read the label. De La Fin Merlot 1999, and suddenly I was laughing: hysterically. 1999, the year of our divorce, “La Fin” the end in French and the last two words he ever spoke to me on the day our divorce was final. I laughed so hard I started to cry, and then to hyperventilate. I fell to the floor, the muscles in my knees refusing to support my shuddering, swaying weight any longer, and there I cried softly into the carpet beneath my desk, clutching the empty bottle to my chest.
I could hear his voice in my head, and mine.
“Come on honey, what’s so bad about California?” his eyes sparkled that day with a playful mask to feel me out, like they had so many times before when he was unsure of my response.
“There’s nothing wrong with California, I just don’t want to live there.” I said back, exasperated with the argument, we’d had it so many times before. “I know why you want to go to California, you want to open your own vineyard” I practically spit the word “you want to play with grapes and dirt all day.” I rolled my eyes, serious now in my argument; adamantly against his dreams in my own insecurity, so afraid to lose him to a business.
He stared at me for a moment. His eyes full of hurt and long sadness. Then he spoke.
“I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, the pain evident in his articulation. “I love you, but I can’t fight with you about our life anymore. I know you’re afraid, but you won’t let me in. You won’t let me help; you barely let me love you. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” My voice seemed too loud
“I’m going to California, with or without you. I want you to come, I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t fight with you anymore, it tears me up. I can’t wait for you to be ready to live anymore.” Tears fell now from his glorious blue eyes.
“You’re going? You’ll leave me here?” disbelief made my voice small, and then the pain kicked in and I went from scared to angry. “THEN WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE NOW!” I screamed the words, practically shrieking, and then with cold malice as the tears came “Just pack your bags and go. I’ll leave so you can have some privacy, but don’t be here when I get back. Don’t come back. Just go.”
He watched me walk away in silence, his face frozen in confusion; one hand reaching for me as I slammed the door.
I went downtown, and found a lawyer. The papers were drawn up within the week, and he was served within the month. The court appearance was a formality, everything had been peacefully divided and decided, and we just needed the judge to make it official. I felt both heavy and empty as we said our goodbyes on the steps.
“Well, now you can go, you can leave me and not worry because I will fine. Free to make my own way now.” I said
“I didn’t want this, I DON’T want this.” He said
“Well, this is what you get, in exchange for your dream. I hope it’s worth it, although I don’t think you have a chance.” I laughed then, cold, hard, and short. “Tell you what. The day you make your wine a success, if I’m not married, I’ll remarry you and come to California. You just give me a call.” I rolled my eyes as I said the last, so sure that he would never be any good at it, so certain that my word would never be tested.
“I will.” He whispered, and it sounded like a promise. “I guess this is it, then.”
“What?”
“La Fin.” And he turned and walked away from me.
I trembled as he walked away, I knew I would never see him again, never hear his voice again or feel his hand in mine. I knew it was my fault. “La Fin” I whispered to his retreating form before slowly walking down the steps to my car. I forced myself not to cry until I was home, alone, safe.
The sharp pain in my head returned my focus to the present. I looked up and saw that I had slid under my desk and hit my head on the back. My fingers ached with the force I was using to grip the empty bottle. The cruel reminder of what I had given up. What I would never again have. I wondered if was laughing to himself, congratulating himself on such fiendish creativity. It was so unexpected, he had never been cruel. Not even to my self-absorbed parents who had disapproved my choice in him from the very beginning, he was never anything but kind and warm and polite.
“He was” I whispered. My voice sounded dead in the office, surreal and not correct. I didn’t sound like me. The sobs came again, dry and heaving, but quiet, like they knew they weren’t welcome, but couldn’t help themselves. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was missing something, a meeting, or a conference call, but try as it might, it couldn’t force its way up to the surface, it was not match for my despair.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” I said the words at full voice as I realized that I had just been biding my time, waiting for him to come crawling back to me. Ten years I had wasted, and now it was over, now he was laughing at me. Like he knew I was waiting for him, missing him, even though I didn’t know it myself, and it must have been funny to him. I could hear his laughter in my head. I scooted out from under my desk, still clutching the bottle. Its green glass caught the sun again, glinting in my eyes. I flinched away from its brightness and blinked. How long was I under there? I thought to myself. I sat up on the floor and looked up at the window. How the sun shone through it, highlighting the streaks that the cleaning solution left.
I was up and moving before it really registered. Watching myself from above, as if I were dreaming, I opened the window and climbed onto the ledge. I could hear the music from our wedding playing in my head as I took the final step, Pachelbel's Cannon in D. As I fell, everything seemed to slow to the rhythm of the dirge-like march, my hair whipped around my face, freeing itself from the tight pins that normally held it back. My shoes fell off and went past me, urgently trying to reach the ground. I could see the people below me, looking up. Someone screamed, a woman, their looks of horror were almost comical, and then there was only pain, for an excruciating moment I felt it all. The heartbreak, the broken bones, the blood oozing from my head, the glass from the wine bottle that I still held, breaking through my skin, and that was it.
The clock on the office wall ticked the seconds by as the wind blew across the desk, ruffling papers. The computer buzzed normally and when the knock sounded, it echoed and absorbed in its usual way. On the desk, there was still the box, but unlike the wine bottle, it was not empty. There in the bottom was a single diamond ring taped to a small note. “Marry me” was all it said.
Below on the street a single mother dialed the paramedics and reported a suicide, she knew already that it was too late to save the pretty woman who had jumped or fallen from the building. She wondered to herself what would make a woman like that want to die. There was a ring of spectators now, and when the ambulance came blaring up most of the people from the office building had joined the ring. So many people were crying. The woman who had made the call noted each grief stricken face in the crowd as she made her report to first the paramedic and then the police officer who had arrived only moments after the ambulance. She had a strange sensation as she took it all in, looking once more at the women as she was covered and then lifted from the sidewalk. Her spine tingled and she looked up.
The black phone on the desk lit up on the side, a green flashing light, once, twice, three times, and then rang. It rang again, and once more, before going to voice mail.
“I love you” was all he said to her before hanging up in disappointment. He didn’t know about his lover, who had jumped from her window in despair because she had lost him, but he would read about it, in a cab, on his way to work, in tomorrow’s paper.
The Review
I read about it in the paper, in the subway, on my way to work.
“A delicate dance on the tongue.” That was what the review said about my ex-husbands new Merlot. I couldn’t believe it he had actually done it. I stared at the black phone on my desk like it was the killer in a b-list horror movie, stunned at the news. I don’t know how long I sat there, in my 22nd floor corner office staring at my phone. It could have been no longer than a minute, or it could have been three hours, the only thing I knew was that it would ring, and so I stared; waiting for the call that would inevitably come, but never did.
For years he had talked about owning a vineyard, it was his lifelong dream. Ever since that vacation in California when he was six, he never forgot the smell of the grapes or the way the sun shone over the fields like a blessing. It was childish awe that never left him; I used to love that about him. Me? I loved numbers. In school I excelled in math and history, I never forgot a formula or a date; I was in Advanced Placement programs and a member of the mathletes tournament squad. I was a geek. By the time high school came around I was severely aware of my social status, I was not aware that I was pretty until college. Pretty. No one had ever called me that until I came stumbling out of the science building my freshman year, tripping over the bag I just dropped on the ground. He caught me.
“Careful pretty one.” He said. Then he just walked away, leaving me staring after him thinking pretty? That was ten years ago, it took me a full semester to find him. All I knew was that he was an artist, because he was covered in splattered paint. I knew it was stupid of me to stalk the art buildings the way I did, but I was compelled, I couldn’t help it. I needed to know what he had meant by that. When I finally did find him on the second day of finals, it was in the Quad, not the art building, and when I wasn’t looking for him, naturally. I was looking at my feet, trying to master an advanced calculus theory in my head when I heard his voice. I don’t know what he was saying, or who he was saying it too, but my subconscious knew that voice. I looked up from the ground and froze. There he was, the artist, right in front of me. My feet carried me to him without my consent and I stared. He stared back with a confused expression.
“Pretty?” I finally asked.
“What?” was his confused reaction.
“You called me pretty once. Do you really think that?”
“Think what?”
“That I’m pretty?”
“Well yeah.” He laughed then so easily, unaffected by awkwardness. “Why wouldn’t I?” I fell in love with him on the spot, he was everything that I wasn’t, and everything I wanted in life. I think he knew it too.
The sudden knock on my office door brought me back to the present, and forced me to look away from my phone. My secretary came in carrying a small rectangular package; she didn’t say a word as she placed it on my desk. I think she has always been sensitive to the moods of other people, and she sensed that I didn’t want to be disturbed. I watched her walk out the door, closing it softly behind her before I turned my shell shocked attention to the green box. I knew I wasn’t ready to open it, some instinct told me that I should ignore this unexpected arrival. If only I was good at trusting my instincts, instead I pulled it to me with hands that trembled, and without bothering to read the label I tore the green paper of the box, opened it, and looked inside.
It was a wine bottle. An empty wine bottle. The light from my window glinted on the thick green glass as I turned it to read the label. De La Fin Merlot 1999, and suddenly I was laughing: hysterically. 1999, the year of our divorce, “La Fin” the end in French and the last two words he ever spoke to me on the day our divorce was final. I laughed so hard I started to cry, and then to hyperventilate. I fell to the floor, the muscles in my knees refusing to support my shuddering, swaying weight any longer, and there I cried softly into the carpet beneath my desk, clutching the empty bottle to my chest.
I could hear his voice in my head, and mine.
“Come on honey, what’s so bad about California?” his eyes sparkled that day with a playful mask to feel me out, like they had so many times before when he was unsure of my response.
“There’s nothing wrong with California, I just don’t want to live there.” I said back, exasperated with the argument, we’d had it so many times before. “I know why you want to go to California, you want to open your own vineyard” I practically spit the word “you want to play with grapes and dirt all day.” I rolled my eyes, serious now in my argument; adamantly against his dreams in my own insecurity, so afraid to lose him to a business.
He stared at me for a moment. His eyes full of hurt and long sadness. Then he spoke.
“I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, the pain evident in his articulation. “I love you, but I can’t fight with you about our life anymore. I know you’re afraid, but you won’t let me in. You won’t let me help; you barely let me love you. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” My voice seemed too loud
“I’m going to California, with or without you. I want you to come, I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t fight with you anymore, it tears me up. I can’t wait for you to be ready to live anymore.” Tears fell now from his glorious blue eyes.
“You’re going? You’ll leave me here?” disbelief made my voice small, and then the pain kicked in and I went from scared to angry. “THEN WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE NOW!” I screamed the words, practically shrieking, and then with cold malice as the tears came “Just pack your bags and go. I’ll leave so you can have some privacy, but don’t be here when I get back. Don’t come back. Just go.”
He watched me walk away in silence, his face frozen in confusion; one hand reaching for me as I slammed the door.
I went downtown, and found a lawyer. The papers were drawn up within the week, and he was served within the month. The court appearance was a formality, everything had been peacefully divided and decided, and we just needed the judge to make it official. I felt both heavy and empty as we said our goodbyes on the steps.
“Well, now you can go, you can leave me and not worry because I will fine. Free to make my own way now.” I said
“I didn’t want this, I DON’T want this.” He said
“Well, this is what you get, in exchange for your dream. I hope it’s worth it, although I don’t think you have a chance.” I laughed then, cold, hard, and short. “Tell you what. The day you make your wine a success, if I’m not married, I’ll remarry you and come to California. You just give me a call.” I rolled my eyes as I said the last, so sure that he would never be any good at it, so certain that my word would never be tested.
“I will.” He whispered, and it sounded like a promise. “I guess this is it, then.”
“What?”
“La Fin.” And he turned and walked away from me.
I trembled as he walked away, I knew I would never see him again, never hear his voice again or feel his hand in mine. I knew it was my fault. “La Fin” I whispered to his retreating form before slowly walking down the steps to my car. I forced myself not to cry until I was home, alone, safe.
The sharp pain in my head returned my focus to the present. I looked up and saw that I had slid under my desk and hit my head on the back. My fingers ached with the force I was using to grip the empty bottle. The cruel reminder of what I had given up. What I would never again have. I wondered if was laughing to himself, congratulating himself on such fiendish creativity. It was so unexpected, he had never been cruel. Not even to my self-absorbed parents who had disapproved my choice in him from the very beginning, he was never anything but kind and warm and polite.
“He was” I whispered. My voice sounded dead in the office, surreal and not correct. I didn’t sound like me. The sobs came again, dry and heaving, but quiet, like they knew they weren’t welcome, but couldn’t help themselves. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was missing something, a meeting, or a conference call, but try as it might, it couldn’t force its way up to the surface, it was not match for my despair.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” I said the words at full voice as I realized that I had just been biding my time, waiting for him to come crawling back to me. Ten years I had wasted, and now it was over, now he was laughing at me. Like he knew I was waiting for him, missing him, even though I didn’t know it myself, and it must have been funny to him. I could hear his laughter in my head. I scooted out from under my desk, still clutching the bottle. Its green glass caught the sun again, glinting in my eyes. I flinched away from its brightness and blinked. How long was I under there? I thought to myself. I sat up on the floor and looked up at the window. How the sun shone through it, highlighting the streaks that the cleaning solution left.
I was up and moving before it really registered. Watching myself from above, as if I were dreaming, I opened the window and climbed onto the ledge. I could hear the music from our wedding playing in my head as I took the final step, Pachelbel's Cannon in D. As I fell, everything seemed to slow to the rhythm of the dirge-like march, my hair whipped around my face, freeing itself from the tight pins that normally held it back. My shoes fell off and went past me, urgently trying to reach the ground. I could see the people below me, looking up. Someone screamed, a woman, their looks of horror were almost comical, and then there was only pain, for an excruciating moment I felt it all. The heartbreak, the broken bones, the blood oozing from my head, the glass from the wine bottle that I still held, breaking through my skin, and that was it.
The clock on the office wall ticked the seconds by as the wind blew across the desk, ruffling papers. The computer buzzed normally and when the knock sounded, it echoed and absorbed in its usual way. On the desk, there was still the box, but unlike the wine bottle, it was not empty. There in the bottom was a single diamond ring taped to a small note. “Marry me” was all it said.
Below on the street a single mother dialed the paramedics and reported a suicide, she knew already that it was too late to save the pretty woman who had jumped or fallen from the building. She wondered to herself what would make a woman like that want to die. There was a ring of spectators now, and when the ambulance came blaring up most of the people from the office building had joined the ring. So many people were crying. The woman who had made the call noted each grief stricken face in the crowd as she made her report to first the paramedic and then the police officer who had arrived only moments after the ambulance. She had a strange sensation as she took it all in, looking once more at the women as she was covered and then lifted from the sidewalk. Her spine tingled and she looked up.
The black phone on the desk lit up on the side, a green flashing light, once, twice, three times, and then rang. It rang again, and once more, before going to voice mail.
“I love you” was all he said to her before hanging up in disappointment. He didn’t know about his lover, who had jumped from her window in despair because she had lost him, but he would read about it, in a cab, on his way to work, in tomorrow’s paper.
Society
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
Running on adrenaline to ease the pain
can't remember the last time I said my name
The glory of the past is lost in the sway
can't remember what day it is today
For all that I've forgotten
I remember that much more
Never never say never
but always fix the score
The days run together
Because they are same
hard work and dedication
Won't get you fame
Couldn't tell you how it happened
Just know that it did
Didn't learn how to lie
Developed the skill as a kid
Roads wind through the neighborhood
Weapons reside in hands
Rhythm is today's savior
Slain by the garage band
Movement keeps the planet still
Chaos is our peace
Live your life to live again
Money is release
ooze through tight spots
don't clean your mess
it takes more than clothes
to dress to impress
Flip the switch and the real goes round
only try for the fake
Once you see that it cannot be
It's easier to attain
Learn the things you don't want to know
then be on your way
Ignore the lesson that you need
Heroes save the day
A bitter heart can kill the color
Enter if you choose
Never learn who we are to one another
Don't forget your dues
Close you soul to wonder
Settle in to wait
Dream of dreams asunder
Won't matter if you're late
can't remember the last time I said my name
The glory of the past is lost in the sway
can't remember what day it is today
For all that I've forgotten
I remember that much more
Never never say never
but always fix the score
The days run together
Because they are same
hard work and dedication
Won't get you fame
Couldn't tell you how it happened
Just know that it did
Didn't learn how to lie
Developed the skill as a kid
Roads wind through the neighborhood
Weapons reside in hands
Rhythm is today's savior
Slain by the garage band
Movement keeps the planet still
Chaos is our peace
Live your life to live again
Money is release
ooze through tight spots
don't clean your mess
it takes more than clothes
to dress to impress
Flip the switch and the real goes round
only try for the fake
Once you see that it cannot be
It's easier to attain
Learn the things you don't want to know
then be on your way
Ignore the lesson that you need
Heroes save the day
A bitter heart can kill the color
Enter if you choose
Never learn who we are to one another
Don't forget your dues
Close you soul to wonder
Settle in to wait
Dream of dreams asunder
Won't matter if you're late
The Residence of Light
Posted by
Keledae
comments (2)
Tell me, does the sun reside in the sky?
For on such a day as this, it is melancholies aisle of light
that fades between the clouds of the farcical blue
It seems to be a play of sorts embraced by heinous fate
That traverses the souls terrain as though it were in disgrace
as though it were merely animal and need driven lack luster
Oh mournful sun, why do you torment the lovers of earth with your cheery light?
Can you not see that sorrow darkens the brows of those parted to oft
With such creasings and lines that even tears cannot fall
When lovers are blinded by distance rather than emotion
The light seems more like torturous reminder than blissful day
Can it truly exist when there is not but ache in the forefront of these hearts
When life depicts a comedic tragedy of hearts that cannot see it's end
Raucous acts of desperation colour it's lines and the plot is woefully undecided
Do you not feel shame, oh light, that you have deplorably decided to show your face?
Tell me, does the sun reside in the sky?
It must in earnest, for if it were resident of the Earth,
Then it could not be so cruel as to intensify the sorrow of the divided heart
It could not shine so beautifully on souls long parted, even for a little
No, it would be unreasonable to think it otherwise than that
The sun resides in the sky.
For on such a day as this, it is melancholies aisle of light
that fades between the clouds of the farcical blue
It seems to be a play of sorts embraced by heinous fate
That traverses the souls terrain as though it were in disgrace
as though it were merely animal and need driven lack luster
Oh mournful sun, why do you torment the lovers of earth with your cheery light?
Can you not see that sorrow darkens the brows of those parted to oft
With such creasings and lines that even tears cannot fall
When lovers are blinded by distance rather than emotion
The light seems more like torturous reminder than blissful day
Can it truly exist when there is not but ache in the forefront of these hearts
When life depicts a comedic tragedy of hearts that cannot see it's end
Raucous acts of desperation colour it's lines and the plot is woefully undecided
Do you not feel shame, oh light, that you have deplorably decided to show your face?
Tell me, does the sun reside in the sky?
It must in earnest, for if it were resident of the Earth,
Then it could not be so cruel as to intensify the sorrow of the divided heart
It could not shine so beautifully on souls long parted, even for a little
No, it would be unreasonable to think it otherwise than that
The sun resides in the sky.
Confirmation
Posted by
Keledae
comments (0)
It's official! I won. Check out the contest #2 and enter contest #3 (especially you gus) at FirstLineFiction.com!
I think I won....
Posted by
Keledae
comments (2)
So, I entered the FirstLineFiction.com writing contest, and I'm not entirely sure, but I think I won.... (I'll post when I hear for sure) anyway, here's my entry for it.
Bridge
All the trouble began when my grandfather died and my grandmother - my father's mother - came to live with us. She had stayed with us before for things like holidays and birthdays, but never more than a weekend. She always had to be home for her Bridge game, which happened every Monday night at 6. All I really knew about Bridge was that is was a card game, that it was favored by old people, and usually meant an abundance of sugar free candy. So, naturally I never gave that card game much thought. At least, not until my grandmother moved in. My dad and my uncle brought her and all of her things (which, smelled as old as she did) to our house on f\Friday, the funeral was Saturday. She was unpacked by supper on Sunday and then They came. It was Monday evening, supper was finished and I was doing the dishes when I noticed my gradmother shuffling around the dining room, rearranging chairs at the table and setting out glass and pencils.
"Whatcha doin Grandma?" I asked, a little confused.
"Setting up for Bridge" she answered me with a slightly sarcastic smile. Like I should have know already exactly what she was doing. Then the doorbell rang. My mother answered the door in her usual warm and welcoming way, and the next thing I knew, there was another old lady in my dining room. She was wrinkled, like my grandmother, with curly white and gray hair, thick glasses, a black straight cane and an old fashioned carpet bag. She also smelled like formaldehyde.
"Uma!" my grandmother cooed at her as she three-legged limped her way around the table. "Uma, this is Jered, my grandson, isn't he handsome?" she stood next to me and waited while Uma took a good long look at me and then huffed. She sat down on the far side of the table, arranged her cane, and began to shuffle a deck of cards she had brought with her.
"He certainly is Rosie." she looked me over again 'Does he play?"
"Bridge?" I asked "Never." I have to admit I was a little shocked when Uma laughed at my response, and slightly insulted when my grandmother winked at her and laughed too. I was about to ask when the doorbell rang again. This time, the lady was slightly less wrinkled and wearing a wicker hat. No cane, she had hair that was obviously dyed blond and a strong floral scent. Uma waved heartily to her as she came in the room and sat down at the end of the table.
"Margaret!" she said "What do you think of Rosies new house? Hmmm? It comes complete with a grandson to help us out. Jered this is Margaret." she gestured from me to the blond old woman.
"Hi." I said
"Pleasure young man. Do you play?"
"No ma'am, I don't play Bridge" I blushed when they all laughed again, which only made them laugh harder. My grandmother put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, just as the doorbell rang for a third time.
This woman, was the tiniest person I had ever seen, she couldn't have been taller than 4'5", her hair was still black and strait as a board, cut in a bob around her harsh face. She wore rimless glasses and a scowl that would scare the devil as she scooted along on her walker to the closest side of the table and lowered herself into the seat.
"Who's this?" she looked at me pointedly, and I swallowed
"I'm Jered, Rosies' grandson, and no I don't play." I said to her before she could ask.
"Pity. You should learn. Have a seat young man, and don't hold up the game." I went to the empty chair next to her and nervously sat down as my grandmother slid into her place at the head of the table.
"Go on the Uma. Deal the cards." As she said this she reached into her purse and pulled out a zip lock bag of poker chips. The other ladies each handed her a 20 dollar bill and she counted and passed out them out.
"Blind is 5 and 2" my grandmother called as Uma finished dealing.
"Pair of 8s, clubs and diamonds, and the 5 of spades on the flop" Uma announced. Margaret tapped the table twice.
"Call, and raise you a dollar." She looked at the tiny woman as she slid a chip into the center of the table.
"Alright Martha, I see your raise." and Uma turned over a fourth card on the table.
" 7 of Diamonds on the river"
"Fold" from my grandmother
"Check" from Martha and Margaret
Uma turned over a fifth card. " Jack of clubs"
She looked at Maraget. "Check" and then at Martha, who tapped the table.
The two women spread out their cards.
"Trip eights and a pair of Jacks to Martha" Uma called the hand and martha scooped the chips into her pile. I watched her for a minute while she counted and stacked, and then I looked at my grandmother.
"Teach me?" I asked. She laughed and smiled and said "Alright, sonny."
That night I learned the ins and outs of poker, the terminology, the difference between a straight and flush, the blind, the check. All of it. As the weeks went on, I continued to join their game, the only problem was that I never really got the hang of the game. I always lost, I won maybe one hand in my first three weeks of playing with my grandma and her friends. But I couldn't stop playing, I didn't have a job, so at first, I borrowed money from my grandma to play, but after awhile, that just didn't feel right. So I started to use my allowance. When that ran out, I got the money from the cigar box under my dads side of the bed. I don't think I was supposed to know about that box.
About two months after I started to use the cigar box money, my parents started fighting. I didn't know what about, it was always in their room, and never quite loud enough for me to hear clearly. But when I came home that Thursday and found the electric company had shut off our power, I started to get the idea. Money, they were arguing about money. I decided to help, I made up my mind right on the spot, that I would win the next poker night. If only it had worked that way.
That night, when my dad came home from work he was unusually silent. My mom had stayed in their room all day, but I didn't know why. I watched him walk slowly up the stairs and stop at the bedroom door. He just stared at it, then turned and went down the hall to my grandmas room. I was worried, but I didn't know what I could do, so I went for a walk.
When I came home my mom was waiting for me on the porch. She told me that my dad and grandmother had left. That they weren't coming back. She told me that my dad wanted to divorce her, and that I was old enough to know the truth about it.
" Your father found out, that I have been having an affair. I don't know how he found out about it, but he did." her voice shook as she told me. "He kept some emergency money hidden in our room, he said it was gone, and that that was how he knew he was right. I just don't understand how he found out, we never touched that money.I mean I guess I did, by spending too much because I knew he had it..." She started to cry and I did too.
Bridge
All the trouble began when my grandfather died and my grandmother - my father's mother - came to live with us. She had stayed with us before for things like holidays and birthdays, but never more than a weekend. She always had to be home for her Bridge game, which happened every Monday night at 6. All I really knew about Bridge was that is was a card game, that it was favored by old people, and usually meant an abundance of sugar free candy. So, naturally I never gave that card game much thought. At least, not until my grandmother moved in. My dad and my uncle brought her and all of her things (which, smelled as old as she did) to our house on f\Friday, the funeral was Saturday. She was unpacked by supper on Sunday and then They came. It was Monday evening, supper was finished and I was doing the dishes when I noticed my gradmother shuffling around the dining room, rearranging chairs at the table and setting out glass and pencils.
"Whatcha doin Grandma?" I asked, a little confused.
"Setting up for Bridge" she answered me with a slightly sarcastic smile. Like I should have know already exactly what she was doing. Then the doorbell rang. My mother answered the door in her usual warm and welcoming way, and the next thing I knew, there was another old lady in my dining room. She was wrinkled, like my grandmother, with curly white and gray hair, thick glasses, a black straight cane and an old fashioned carpet bag. She also smelled like formaldehyde.
"Uma!" my grandmother cooed at her as she three-legged limped her way around the table. "Uma, this is Jered, my grandson, isn't he handsome?" she stood next to me and waited while Uma took a good long look at me and then huffed. She sat down on the far side of the table, arranged her cane, and began to shuffle a deck of cards she had brought with her.
"He certainly is Rosie." she looked me over again 'Does he play?"
"Bridge?" I asked "Never." I have to admit I was a little shocked when Uma laughed at my response, and slightly insulted when my grandmother winked at her and laughed too. I was about to ask when the doorbell rang again. This time, the lady was slightly less wrinkled and wearing a wicker hat. No cane, she had hair that was obviously dyed blond and a strong floral scent. Uma waved heartily to her as she came in the room and sat down at the end of the table.
"Margaret!" she said "What do you think of Rosies new house? Hmmm? It comes complete with a grandson to help us out. Jered this is Margaret." she gestured from me to the blond old woman.
"Hi." I said
"Pleasure young man. Do you play?"
"No ma'am, I don't play Bridge" I blushed when they all laughed again, which only made them laugh harder. My grandmother put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed, just as the doorbell rang for a third time.
This woman, was the tiniest person I had ever seen, she couldn't have been taller than 4'5", her hair was still black and strait as a board, cut in a bob around her harsh face. She wore rimless glasses and a scowl that would scare the devil as she scooted along on her walker to the closest side of the table and lowered herself into the seat.
"Who's this?" she looked at me pointedly, and I swallowed
"I'm Jered, Rosies' grandson, and no I don't play." I said to her before she could ask.
"Pity. You should learn. Have a seat young man, and don't hold up the game." I went to the empty chair next to her and nervously sat down as my grandmother slid into her place at the head of the table.
"Go on the Uma. Deal the cards." As she said this she reached into her purse and pulled out a zip lock bag of poker chips. The other ladies each handed her a 20 dollar bill and she counted and passed out them out.
"Blind is 5 and 2" my grandmother called as Uma finished dealing.
"Pair of 8s, clubs and diamonds, and the 5 of spades on the flop" Uma announced. Margaret tapped the table twice.
"Call, and raise you a dollar." She looked at the tiny woman as she slid a chip into the center of the table.
"Alright Martha, I see your raise." and Uma turned over a fourth card on the table.
" 7 of Diamonds on the river"
"Fold" from my grandmother
"Check" from Martha and Margaret
Uma turned over a fifth card. " Jack of clubs"
She looked at Maraget. "Check" and then at Martha, who tapped the table.
The two women spread out their cards.
"Trip eights and a pair of Jacks to Martha" Uma called the hand and martha scooped the chips into her pile. I watched her for a minute while she counted and stacked, and then I looked at my grandmother.
"Teach me?" I asked. She laughed and smiled and said "Alright, sonny."
That night I learned the ins and outs of poker, the terminology, the difference between a straight and flush, the blind, the check. All of it. As the weeks went on, I continued to join their game, the only problem was that I never really got the hang of the game. I always lost, I won maybe one hand in my first three weeks of playing with my grandma and her friends. But I couldn't stop playing, I didn't have a job, so at first, I borrowed money from my grandma to play, but after awhile, that just didn't feel right. So I started to use my allowance. When that ran out, I got the money from the cigar box under my dads side of the bed. I don't think I was supposed to know about that box.
About two months after I started to use the cigar box money, my parents started fighting. I didn't know what about, it was always in their room, and never quite loud enough for me to hear clearly. But when I came home that Thursday and found the electric company had shut off our power, I started to get the idea. Money, they were arguing about money. I decided to help, I made up my mind right on the spot, that I would win the next poker night. If only it had worked that way.
That night, when my dad came home from work he was unusually silent. My mom had stayed in their room all day, but I didn't know why. I watched him walk slowly up the stairs and stop at the bedroom door. He just stared at it, then turned and went down the hall to my grandmas room. I was worried, but I didn't know what I could do, so I went for a walk.
When I came home my mom was waiting for me on the porch. She told me that my dad and grandmother had left. That they weren't coming back. She told me that my dad wanted to divorce her, and that I was old enough to know the truth about it.
" Your father found out, that I have been having an affair. I don't know how he found out about it, but he did." her voice shook as she told me. "He kept some emergency money hidden in our room, he said it was gone, and that that was how he knew he was right. I just don't understand how he found out, we never touched that money.I mean I guess I did, by spending too much because I knew he had it..." She started to cry and I did too.
A number of Poems for you to read.
Posted by
Keledae
comments (2)
Ok, I know this is a lot of poetry, and a really long post. So if you are a reader, read a few that catch your eye,or read them all, whatever strikes your fancy comments are always welcome.
---------------------------
You
Perhaps this is a bit effervescent
Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself
Perhaps I don't even know what I'm saying
But, perhaps, you do.
Sometimes I get a little scared
Sometimes so do you
Sometimes I need a place to hide
Always, I want that to be you.
Every moment I think of us
Every moment is something new
Every moment I'm always waiting
No longer, because I have you
Knowledge is a powerful thing
Knowledge is the strength that can get us through
Knowledge like a knife can cut deep
Ignorance is enough, because you are all I need
Shakespeare said it well, Poe did too
Authors of the same line
Different points of view
I know that they were writing about you
-09/20/2009
----------------------------------
Gunslinger
Six guns blaze and slowly die
Smoldered by the fire in your eyes
I fall like the hammer that begins it all
Blackened like the powder that fill the ball
Five guns blaze and slowly die
Smothered by the sorrow in your eyes
I fail like the ones that have gone before
Emblazoned in tragedy that is not forevermore
Four guns blaze and slowly die
Soothed by the passion in your eyes
I fall like a feather to the sheets below
Beckoned by a need like I have never known
Three guns blaze and slowly die
Sickened by the fear in your eyes
I fail like a medic paralyzed by the war
Entombed in the past that is not only yours
Two guns blaze and slowly die
Strengthened by the hope in your eyes
I fall like the victim that always wants to stay
Benefited by the outcome that must win the day
One gun blazes and never dies
Secured by the love in your eyes
I fall like a lover and run no more away
Entranced by a heart full of desires sway
-09/25/2009
----------------------------------
A Mark in the Time
Times are changin
as my life flies by
and I feel inspiring
with you by my side
Times are changin
as my life crawls and tows
and I feel a little emptier
I wonder if you know
Times are changin
and I can see my dreams
funny how they come to life
how they are bursting onto the scene
Times are changin
and please, don't get me wrong
It's all lookin up
but today, I don't feel so strong
Times are changin
and people do to
I deal with the constant
and those things are few
Times are changin
and where will it lead
I don't like the feeling
of you without me
Times are changin
but some things remain the same
it takes all of my willpower
so I can refrain
Times are changin
from yellow to blue
And everything could be
the way it is with you
Times are changin
and it's just too bad
because today I feel stolen
because today I'm still glad.
-09/14/2009
----------------------------------
Communication pt 3
If we're gonna clear the air
Then listen with your ears
I don't wanna have the same argument for the next 50 years
I mean what I say
and I said what I meant
An elephants faithful 100%
But I'm not an elephant
Although I do have a trunk
I still don't care about all the extra junk
I'll leave it behind to be free and clear
I don't wanna have the same baggage for the next 50 years
Confusion is one thing
But I hate to be ignored
Is it really so hard to tell someone when you're bored
With the conversation
With them in general
This revelation is femoral
Charisma I have, I have that in spades
Charisma doesn't tell me
What you hide there in the shade
Why do you make me tremble in fear
I don't wanna have this same fright for the next 50 years
I want communication
I want a real life road
I want more than a bump
I need more than a node
If we're gonna clear the air
Then listen with your ears
I want to have new conversations for the next 50 years.
-07/30/2009
--------------------------------
Laughed Myself Back in Place
I'm finding my life
I'm back in my mind
Reminded myself that I can shine
Feeling like me again
Back home in my own skin
Never gonna leave again
Got a few things to do
More things to say
Gonna show you everything
You thought I left along the way
The words tingle
My fingers fly
No more lost in an emotional lie
The path is clear
I can feel me here
Settling in
My comfort zone
Reminded myself that I am my own
No longer looking for a sign
I know that everything I need
Is already mine
Broke the mirror just to laugh
Walking down the street
Look at me
I've got class
Don't believe in the bad
Only in the moment
Holding on to what I had
Looking for the next step
Ready for the next move
Not gonna let you throw off my groove
(beware the groove)
Only person in my skin should be me
Only reason I got lost is cause I refused to see
Ridiculocity
Found my logic waiting
Right where I left it
Picked up my own luggage
Laughed until I dropped it
It's good to be home again
Reminded myself who I was and then
Got lost in me and ended up
Right where I belong
I can feel the music
I can hear the song
It was missing for awhile
Went on vacation with my smile
But here I stand
Somewhere on the brink
Something new around the bend
Wouldn't miss a minute
I'm here until the end
-07/29/09
-----------------------------------
The Ruins
And in the valley I did walk
for a moment
the sun did shine
But then I put my umbrella up
and forced the sun to not be mine
And in the valley I did sit
for a moment
I tried to hide
But then I put my umbrella down
and still the sun would not be mine
And in the valley I did sigh
for a moment
So then I stood
But then I dropped my umbrella down
and the sun I sought in earnest
And in the valley I did run
for a moment
I forgot to breathe
But then with my umbrella gone
I found I could have no reprieve
And in the valley I did stand
for a moment
Armorless
But then I saw the ruins there
and there inside the sun did rest
And in the valley I did see
for a moment
Lost in confusion
But then I found myself again
watching the sun inside the ruin
And in the valley I did walk
for a moment
I stood at the ruins door
But then the sun did hide me
and so I wait, evermore
-07/22/09
---------------------------------
A Late Night Ramble
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and a few thoughts in my mind
wish i could repeat them
But they are mine to find
Got a few days before you again
and a few more to sigh
wish I could delete them
But they are the reason why
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
Got a few words in my mouth
but they can wait a day or two
Got a thought that lays dormant
and a reason to leave it be
wish I could revive it
but then it wouldn't be
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and maybe more than a few
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
maybe it's a song, or maybe not. It's 5:10am right now, and to be honest, I'm a bit blank. I know I'm thinking things, but I couldn't tell you what you they are, and the worst (best?) part of it is, they really aren't that far from the surface. Oh well, what can you do when your brain taunts you? It's not like you can simply refuse to be teased by your own sub-conscious mind. Or can you?
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and the seed of a long argue
wish I could compromise the point
but maybe it's better disjointed
Got a few ideas running wild now
and they are laughing at me
wish I could corral them
but then they would cease to be
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I think I like the view
wish I could describe the scenery
but that's something I can't do
Got a few needs and wants to fill
and all the ability
wish I could forget them all
but they are part of me
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and this insomnia is new
wish I could cure this sickness
but it's cause is not new
Maybe we just need to take a minute. And look around at the things we are surrounded by. The people, the belongings, the verbs and adverbs. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why I'm still here, in the good ole U.S. of A. There is sooo much more out there for me to experience. There is soooo much waiting for you.
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and my brain is running on fumes
wish I could refill my tank
but these words are becoming few
Got a few letters to make words with
and my fingers fly to the beat
wish I could drown out your voice
but the sound is just too sweet
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and before I bid you adieu
wish I could give in
but I need to stand up to you
Got a few things to learn in myself
and all the lessons are lies
wish I could find the truth in them
but it hides in hypnotic lullabies
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and why am I still here
wish I could answer all your questions
but you are deafened by your fear
Maybe we don't realize the powers we possess. Fear is the ultimate weapon. If you can wield fear, you are destined for success. Sad part of that is , is that those who use fear for personal gain, usually wind up hating themselves. Interesting how that works out. Don't you agree?
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
wish I could close my eyes
but I'm not ready too
-07/15/2009
-------------------------------
Hide and Seek
I'm hoping this isn't a fleeting moment
Just another lie or dream
I'm hoping beyond anything
That this is everything it seems
I'm sighing inside at the moment
Dealing with things unspoken
I'm waiting for something intangible
And yearning to be deeply woken
So much turmoil and change these days
It seems I might have forgotten
That I more than I give myself credit for
I am more than once dark, rotten
I need something I can't describe
to pull me back together
And looking out at this horizon
There are storms yet to be weathered
Sometimes I can't articulate
but right now, I just don't want to
The only thing I long to have
Is what I cannot do
Or is that just a runaway thought
A piece of self doubt that survived
I know somewhere I have the strength
I'll succeed if I just try
I don't know how to say
the things that are on my mind
And no matter what thoughts I shield me with
For some reason I can't hide
Not even from me
Can you tell me what it means
Does anyone know why
I'm holding back from giving in
But somehow I'm sure
I'm fighting the last of the losing battles
Pulling ahead in my personal war
The final fear is slipping beyond
How forlornly it prattles
To be left behind is a hard thing
But sometimes, it's something we must do
I did it, not too long ago
You may need to do it too
I'm trembling from the inside out
these emotions rock my steady
But even though they waver me
I know deep inside I'm ready
I don't know how to say
the things that are on my mind
And no matter what thoughts I shield me with
For some reason I can't hide
-07/06/09
-----------------------------
At a Loss
I don't know what to do here
All I want is to help
to make things better
But I think I made them worse
I wish you would talk to me
I don't understand why you won't
Its like
you pulled the rug from under my feet
and now
now
I can't stand up again
If I can't stand up
how can I help you
and how can I help you
when it's you I need
to stand
-05/04/09
---------------------------------------
Mirror
Where is it?
and why is it gone?
how long have you known
how long have you grieved?
Who is she?
and why can't you let go?
how long will you hold on
how long will you suffer?
She isn't coming back.
even if she did
she wouldn't be who you wanted
she would be different
Could you live with that?
I don't want to fight her
after all it's dead
So, why are you forcing me to?
why can't it be over for you?
I don't understand
this need to obsess
pick yourself up
move out of this mess
Don't you want to be free?
No. You don't
her cage is where you want to be.
Trapped forever in memory
bitter, isn't it
The prison you choose
is your hellish haven
heaven.
Death has no sway
She doesn't keep you there
it's you
you've forced yourself to stay
can't you tell me why?
What's the point
of having me around?
When all you love
is trapped below
Can you imagine what we too could grow to be?
All hope is lost in your despair
and there is no grave to mark her there
Perhaps by giving humanity
it becomes entity
Won't you tell me what it is?
Is she truly what lives in it?
Show me that she's real
release it, heal.
Where is it?
And why is she gone?
How long will you let this go on?
How long will you grieve of this?
Perhaps they were right
and all they say is true
and I should simply walk away from you
But for me this cage is just as strong
As the one you have cowered in for so long.
And here at last I see the it
finally it's her I've met
I understand that it's not over yet
But I will no longer be held in sway
My sanity has broken through
all that's left are mirrors of you
-04/19/09
-----------------------------------------
Steady
I need your voice to hold me steady
My state of mind is nightmare ready
and as I drift
afraid to dream
I cling to you
what does it mean?
On the wind I hear their wings
Keeping time as they softly sing
and as I listen
scared to sleep
I cling to you
and then I weep.
Through the dark he sounds his call
Sweetly cooing, come one come all
and as I walk
afraid to stay
I cling to you
what do you say?
I need your voice to hold me steady
My state of mind is nightmare ready
and as I lie
scared to tell
I cling to you
and all is well.
-04/16/2009
-----------------------------------------------
Salt
every drop cuts my skin
things unspoken
realizations
cruelly sink in
they sting like salt
I guess I should have known
it's been too long
and we aren't well, us
but
I never thought I'd lose you
guess I was a fool
because this hurts
it's deep and it's true
-04/11/09
-----------------------------------------
What it's Like to Melt
I feel like a wilting flower
the power to renew is gone
it teases me with thunderclaps
and flashes before my eyes
laughing at my weary soul
The stress builds in chords
dissonance and harmony
It screeches in my ear drums
and burns in the veins
taunting me with it's very presence
Today drags by like silk on Velcro
never ending, it prickles
I need a release, and maybe help
I can feel my rawness on my very skin
I'm ready to snap, that's the mood I'm in
-03/28/09
-----------------------------------------------------
Glass
Tonight you are the glass
refired
You are the thoughts
uncovered
You are the reason
Defined
Tonight You are
Mine?
Tonight you are the call
Undenied
You are the need
intensified
You are the song
rewritten
Tonight are You
Mine?
Tonight You are the air
I'm breathing
Tonight You are the one
I'm seeing
Tonight You are the web
I'm weaving
Tonight You are the wish
I'm making
Tomorrow is uncertain
but tonight is You
I've never touched You
But You've sent my nerves tingling
I've never heard Your voice
but Your words are my minds delight
and even if we never have forever
I have loved tonight
-03/25/09
----------------------------------------
If I Could
If I could do anything I wanted today
I'd lie in bed with you
I'd take in your scent, and the feel of your body next to mine
I'd memorize your breathing
I'd trace every line
that adorns your face
I'd thank God for the moments
I'd pray that it lasts forever
If I could be anything I wanted today
I'd be enough for you
I'd be the exception to your rule
I'd be the twinkle in your eye
I'd be myself in your arms
I'd do my best to make you happy
and I'd hold you close
I'd be the reason for your smile
If I could, I would.
And if I could have you today
Even if just for one day
It would make everything perfect
I'd always want more
But I'd be thankful for what I got
I'd never forget a moment
If I could have anything I wanted today
I'd only want you.
-02/19/2009 (my 24th birthday)
---------------------------------------------
You Are My Something
There's something about you
the way you smile
how you always make me laugh
and I just can't shake it
I can't let it go
This feeling I have that I was meant for you
I
Was
Meant
For
You
And there's something about that
that certainty of feeling
That makes me a little bit strange
and gives me chills at night
And I can't let it go
I just wanted to say it out lout
I
Was
Meant
For
You
There's just something about you
that screams home to me
Something intangible
That pierces through me everywhere
And I can't let it go
Not when the only thing I'm certain I know is that
I
Was
Meant
For
You
I was meant for you
and there's just something about that
something about you
you
meant for you
me
I was
meant
for you
you are my something
-01/02/2009
---------------------------
You
Perhaps this is a bit effervescent
Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself
Perhaps I don't even know what I'm saying
But, perhaps, you do.
Sometimes I get a little scared
Sometimes so do you
Sometimes I need a place to hide
Always, I want that to be you.
Every moment I think of us
Every moment is something new
Every moment I'm always waiting
No longer, because I have you
Knowledge is a powerful thing
Knowledge is the strength that can get us through
Knowledge like a knife can cut deep
Ignorance is enough, because you are all I need
Shakespeare said it well, Poe did too
Authors of the same line
Different points of view
I know that they were writing about you
-09/20/2009
----------------------------------
Gunslinger
Six guns blaze and slowly die
Smoldered by the fire in your eyes
I fall like the hammer that begins it all
Blackened like the powder that fill the ball
Five guns blaze and slowly die
Smothered by the sorrow in your eyes
I fail like the ones that have gone before
Emblazoned in tragedy that is not forevermore
Four guns blaze and slowly die
Soothed by the passion in your eyes
I fall like a feather to the sheets below
Beckoned by a need like I have never known
Three guns blaze and slowly die
Sickened by the fear in your eyes
I fail like a medic paralyzed by the war
Entombed in the past that is not only yours
Two guns blaze and slowly die
Strengthened by the hope in your eyes
I fall like the victim that always wants to stay
Benefited by the outcome that must win the day
One gun blazes and never dies
Secured by the love in your eyes
I fall like a lover and run no more away
Entranced by a heart full of desires sway
-09/25/2009
----------------------------------
A Mark in the Time
Times are changin
as my life flies by
and I feel inspiring
with you by my side
Times are changin
as my life crawls and tows
and I feel a little emptier
I wonder if you know
Times are changin
and I can see my dreams
funny how they come to life
how they are bursting onto the scene
Times are changin
and please, don't get me wrong
It's all lookin up
but today, I don't feel so strong
Times are changin
and people do to
I deal with the constant
and those things are few
Times are changin
and where will it lead
I don't like the feeling
of you without me
Times are changin
but some things remain the same
it takes all of my willpower
so I can refrain
Times are changin
from yellow to blue
And everything could be
the way it is with you
Times are changin
and it's just too bad
because today I feel stolen
because today I'm still glad.
-09/14/2009
----------------------------------
Communication pt 3
If we're gonna clear the air
Then listen with your ears
I don't wanna have the same argument for the next 50 years
I mean what I say
and I said what I meant
An elephants faithful 100%
But I'm not an elephant
Although I do have a trunk
I still don't care about all the extra junk
I'll leave it behind to be free and clear
I don't wanna have the same baggage for the next 50 years
Confusion is one thing
But I hate to be ignored
Is it really so hard to tell someone when you're bored
With the conversation
With them in general
This revelation is femoral
Charisma I have, I have that in spades
Charisma doesn't tell me
What you hide there in the shade
Why do you make me tremble in fear
I don't wanna have this same fright for the next 50 years
I want communication
I want a real life road
I want more than a bump
I need more than a node
If we're gonna clear the air
Then listen with your ears
I want to have new conversations for the next 50 years.
-07/30/2009
--------------------------------
Laughed Myself Back in Place
I'm finding my life
I'm back in my mind
Reminded myself that I can shine
Feeling like me again
Back home in my own skin
Never gonna leave again
Got a few things to do
More things to say
Gonna show you everything
You thought I left along the way
The words tingle
My fingers fly
No more lost in an emotional lie
The path is clear
I can feel me here
Settling in
My comfort zone
Reminded myself that I am my own
No longer looking for a sign
I know that everything I need
Is already mine
Broke the mirror just to laugh
Walking down the street
Look at me
I've got class
Don't believe in the bad
Only in the moment
Holding on to what I had
Looking for the next step
Ready for the next move
Not gonna let you throw off my groove
(beware the groove)
Only person in my skin should be me
Only reason I got lost is cause I refused to see
Ridiculocity
Found my logic waiting
Right where I left it
Picked up my own luggage
Laughed until I dropped it
It's good to be home again
Reminded myself who I was and then
Got lost in me and ended up
Right where I belong
I can feel the music
I can hear the song
It was missing for awhile
Went on vacation with my smile
But here I stand
Somewhere on the brink
Something new around the bend
Wouldn't miss a minute
I'm here until the end
-07/29/09
-----------------------------------
The Ruins
And in the valley I did walk
for a moment
the sun did shine
But then I put my umbrella up
and forced the sun to not be mine
And in the valley I did sit
for a moment
I tried to hide
But then I put my umbrella down
and still the sun would not be mine
And in the valley I did sigh
for a moment
So then I stood
But then I dropped my umbrella down
and the sun I sought in earnest
And in the valley I did run
for a moment
I forgot to breathe
But then with my umbrella gone
I found I could have no reprieve
And in the valley I did stand
for a moment
Armorless
But then I saw the ruins there
and there inside the sun did rest
And in the valley I did see
for a moment
Lost in confusion
But then I found myself again
watching the sun inside the ruin
And in the valley I did walk
for a moment
I stood at the ruins door
But then the sun did hide me
and so I wait, evermore
-07/22/09
---------------------------------
A Late Night Ramble
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and a few thoughts in my mind
wish i could repeat them
But they are mine to find
Got a few days before you again
and a few more to sigh
wish I could delete them
But they are the reason why
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
Got a few words in my mouth
but they can wait a day or two
Got a thought that lays dormant
and a reason to leave it be
wish I could revive it
but then it wouldn't be
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and maybe more than a few
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
maybe it's a song, or maybe not. It's 5:10am right now, and to be honest, I'm a bit blank. I know I'm thinking things, but I couldn't tell you what you they are, and the worst (best?) part of it is, they really aren't that far from the surface. Oh well, what can you do when your brain taunts you? It's not like you can simply refuse to be teased by your own sub-conscious mind. Or can you?
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and the seed of a long argue
wish I could compromise the point
but maybe it's better disjointed
Got a few ideas running wild now
and they are laughing at me
wish I could corral them
but then they would cease to be
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I think I like the view
wish I could describe the scenery
but that's something I can't do
Got a few needs and wants to fill
and all the ability
wish I could forget them all
but they are part of me
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and this insomnia is new
wish I could cure this sickness
but it's cause is not new
Maybe we just need to take a minute. And look around at the things we are surrounded by. The people, the belongings, the verbs and adverbs. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why I'm still here, in the good ole U.S. of A. There is sooo much more out there for me to experience. There is soooo much waiting for you.
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and my brain is running on fumes
wish I could refill my tank
but these words are becoming few
Got a few letters to make words with
and my fingers fly to the beat
wish I could drown out your voice
but the sound is just too sweet
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and before I bid you adieu
wish I could give in
but I need to stand up to you
Got a few things to learn in myself
and all the lessons are lies
wish I could find the truth in them
but it hides in hypnotic lullabies
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and why am I still here
wish I could answer all your questions
but you are deafened by your fear
Maybe we don't realize the powers we possess. Fear is the ultimate weapon. If you can wield fear, you are destined for success. Sad part of that is , is that those who use fear for personal gain, usually wind up hating themselves. Interesting how that works out. Don't you agree?
Got a few minutes before sleep comes
and I'm waiting up for you
wish I could close my eyes
but I'm not ready too
-07/15/2009
-------------------------------
Hide and Seek
I'm hoping this isn't a fleeting moment
Just another lie or dream
I'm hoping beyond anything
That this is everything it seems
I'm sighing inside at the moment
Dealing with things unspoken
I'm waiting for something intangible
And yearning to be deeply woken
So much turmoil and change these days
It seems I might have forgotten
That I more than I give myself credit for
I am more than once dark, rotten
I need something I can't describe
to pull me back together
And looking out at this horizon
There are storms yet to be weathered
Sometimes I can't articulate
but right now, I just don't want to
The only thing I long to have
Is what I cannot do
Or is that just a runaway thought
A piece of self doubt that survived
I know somewhere I have the strength
I'll succeed if I just try
I don't know how to say
the things that are on my mind
And no matter what thoughts I shield me with
For some reason I can't hide
Not even from me
Can you tell me what it means
Does anyone know why
I'm holding back from giving in
But somehow I'm sure
I'm fighting the last of the losing battles
Pulling ahead in my personal war
The final fear is slipping beyond
How forlornly it prattles
To be left behind is a hard thing
But sometimes, it's something we must do
I did it, not too long ago
You may need to do it too
I'm trembling from the inside out
these emotions rock my steady
But even though they waver me
I know deep inside I'm ready
I don't know how to say
the things that are on my mind
And no matter what thoughts I shield me with
For some reason I can't hide
-07/06/09
-----------------------------
At a Loss
I don't know what to do here
All I want is to help
to make things better
But I think I made them worse
I wish you would talk to me
I don't understand why you won't
Its like
you pulled the rug from under my feet
and now
now
I can't stand up again
If I can't stand up
how can I help you
and how can I help you
when it's you I need
to stand
-05/04/09
---------------------------------------
Mirror
Where is it?
and why is it gone?
how long have you known
how long have you grieved?
Who is she?
and why can't you let go?
how long will you hold on
how long will you suffer?
She isn't coming back.
even if she did
she wouldn't be who you wanted
she would be different
Could you live with that?
I don't want to fight her
after all it's dead
So, why are you forcing me to?
why can't it be over for you?
I don't understand
this need to obsess
pick yourself up
move out of this mess
Don't you want to be free?
No. You don't
her cage is where you want to be.
Trapped forever in memory
bitter, isn't it
The prison you choose
is your hellish haven
heaven.
Death has no sway
She doesn't keep you there
it's you
you've forced yourself to stay
can't you tell me why?
What's the point
of having me around?
When all you love
is trapped below
Can you imagine what we too could grow to be?
All hope is lost in your despair
and there is no grave to mark her there
Perhaps by giving humanity
it becomes entity
Won't you tell me what it is?
Is she truly what lives in it?
Show me that she's real
release it, heal.
Where is it?
And why is she gone?
How long will you let this go on?
How long will you grieve of this?
Perhaps they were right
and all they say is true
and I should simply walk away from you
But for me this cage is just as strong
As the one you have cowered in for so long.
And here at last I see the it
finally it's her I've met
I understand that it's not over yet
But I will no longer be held in sway
My sanity has broken through
all that's left are mirrors of you
-04/19/09
-----------------------------------------
Steady
I need your voice to hold me steady
My state of mind is nightmare ready
and as I drift
afraid to dream
I cling to you
what does it mean?
On the wind I hear their wings
Keeping time as they softly sing
and as I listen
scared to sleep
I cling to you
and then I weep.
Through the dark he sounds his call
Sweetly cooing, come one come all
and as I walk
afraid to stay
I cling to you
what do you say?
I need your voice to hold me steady
My state of mind is nightmare ready
and as I lie
scared to tell
I cling to you
and all is well.
-04/16/2009
-----------------------------------------------
Salt
every drop cuts my skin
things unspoken
realizations
cruelly sink in
they sting like salt
I guess I should have known
it's been too long
and we aren't well, us
but
I never thought I'd lose you
guess I was a fool
because this hurts
it's deep and it's true
-04/11/09
-----------------------------------------
What it's Like to Melt
I feel like a wilting flower
the power to renew is gone
it teases me with thunderclaps
and flashes before my eyes
laughing at my weary soul
The stress builds in chords
dissonance and harmony
It screeches in my ear drums
and burns in the veins
taunting me with it's very presence
Today drags by like silk on Velcro
never ending, it prickles
I need a release, and maybe help
I can feel my rawness on my very skin
I'm ready to snap, that's the mood I'm in
-03/28/09
-----------------------------------------------------
Glass
Tonight you are the glass
refired
You are the thoughts
uncovered
You are the reason
Defined
Tonight You are
Mine?
Tonight you are the call
Undenied
You are the need
intensified
You are the song
rewritten
Tonight are You
Mine?
Tonight You are the air
I'm breathing
Tonight You are the one
I'm seeing
Tonight You are the web
I'm weaving
Tonight You are the wish
I'm making
Tomorrow is uncertain
but tonight is You
I've never touched You
But You've sent my nerves tingling
I've never heard Your voice
but Your words are my minds delight
and even if we never have forever
I have loved tonight
-03/25/09
----------------------------------------
If I Could
If I could do anything I wanted today
I'd lie in bed with you
I'd take in your scent, and the feel of your body next to mine
I'd memorize your breathing
I'd trace every line
that adorns your face
I'd thank God for the moments
I'd pray that it lasts forever
If I could be anything I wanted today
I'd be enough for you
I'd be the exception to your rule
I'd be the twinkle in your eye
I'd be myself in your arms
I'd do my best to make you happy
and I'd hold you close
I'd be the reason for your smile
If I could, I would.
And if I could have you today
Even if just for one day
It would make everything perfect
I'd always want more
But I'd be thankful for what I got
I'd never forget a moment
If I could have anything I wanted today
I'd only want you.
-02/19/2009 (my 24th birthday)
---------------------------------------------
You Are My Something
There's something about you
the way you smile
how you always make me laugh
and I just can't shake it
I can't let it go
This feeling I have that I was meant for you
I
Was
Meant
For
You
And there's something about that
that certainty of feeling
That makes me a little bit strange
and gives me chills at night
And I can't let it go
I just wanted to say it out lout
I
Was
Meant
For
You
There's just something about you
that screams home to me
Something intangible
That pierces through me everywhere
And I can't let it go
Not when the only thing I'm certain I know is that
I
Was
Meant
For
You
I was meant for you
and there's just something about that
something about you
you
meant for you
me
I was
meant
for you
you are my something
-01/02/2009
A feeling I hate
Posted by
Keledae
comments (3)
Grrrr. I love my boyfriend. I love everything he says and does, I love the way he makes me feel, I love everything about him. I hate the fact that I can't seem to make my jealous streak shut up every time this one girl talks to him in any medium. I hate the way I get angry, and that it gets to me. I know he loves me, I am not worried about any type of infidelity or unfaithfulness. I just can't stop myself from wanting to hit things every time she pops up with a comment or a text. They never even dated, and she is the only girl that makes me bristle this way. I hate it. What do I do? How do I make myself not be this way about her?
The Discarded Letter
Posted by
Keledae
comments (2)
preface: I wrote this a few years ago as an exercise for a writing class, it's designed to make you think, ask questions and then answer them yourself, kind of like a prompt. Feel free to post your ideas in comments if you want, that could be interesting....
On a wet day in April, on a seldom used road; a dog limped by a discarded letter. This letter would remain unread, dear reader, except that it’s words were mine. And it was by simple chance, or maybe fate, that my rambling survived the spring storm. But survive they did and that plagues my soul, for that letter should never have been. I t details a day in my life that I am still not sure truly happened ( although the truth is not so important in this tale) You see on that day I met myself, through her, although I am convinced that she resides not in this world, but only in my head. Still, she gave me back myself. Whoever she is or is not, and it was for her that I wrote the discarded letter that is the catalyst for my story. I wanted to remember her in a tangible way. You see she was not my lover, she was not my friend, she never spoke to me, but instead, she showed me things. Things that I have never gotten over, things that sent me to this darkened road. I will never be the same again. I’m sorry dear reader, but I have to leave you now. They come to attend me, they rattle keys in my lock, and soon I will be gone, the currents will bring her back again, I long for the day that she chooses not to leave. The day when this dank hell will end.
On a wet day in April, on a seldom used road; a dog limped by a discarded letter. This letter would remain unread, dear reader, except that it’s words were mine. And it was by simple chance, or maybe fate, that my rambling survived the spring storm. But survive they did and that plagues my soul, for that letter should never have been. I t details a day in my life that I am still not sure truly happened ( although the truth is not so important in this tale) You see on that day I met myself, through her, although I am convinced that she resides not in this world, but only in my head. Still, she gave me back myself. Whoever she is or is not, and it was for her that I wrote the discarded letter that is the catalyst for my story. I wanted to remember her in a tangible way. You see she was not my lover, she was not my friend, she never spoke to me, but instead, she showed me things. Things that I have never gotten over, things that sent me to this darkened road. I will never be the same again. I’m sorry dear reader, but I have to leave you now. They come to attend me, they rattle keys in my lock, and soon I will be gone, the currents will bring her back again, I long for the day that she chooses not to leave. The day when this dank hell will end.
Survival
Posted by
Keledae
comments (2)
Ah the days that roll on by
and the shadows on my wall
They bleed together in watchful sorrow
because I am without you and alone
To survive for me is not enough
because I long to live
and now that you have found me
you are the life that gives
But here I sit without you
enduring the cruel joke
And there you are without me too
unable even to see
Ah the night rolls through my window
and the shadows now complete
leave me to my thoughts alone
a vexing place to be
To write you as I have tried
in lines and letters of words
is simply to much to attempt
for you are more than u
I hear your voice and am content
until I open my lashes
and am assaulted by the void
of the lacking space beside me
The phantom arms that hold me close
each and every night
are not as strong as the counterpart
that reality amiably binds
in miles and hours and highway lengths
and empty pockets that find
a bit of octane fuels the heart
much more than it fuels the drive
Ah the suns rolls above the clouds
and the shadows release to play
and I alone with myself wake to find
I have survived another day
and the shadows on my wall
They bleed together in watchful sorrow
because I am without you and alone
To survive for me is not enough
because I long to live
and now that you have found me
you are the life that gives
But here I sit without you
enduring the cruel joke
And there you are without me too
unable even to see
Ah the night rolls through my window
and the shadows now complete
leave me to my thoughts alone
a vexing place to be
To write you as I have tried
in lines and letters of words
is simply to much to attempt
for you are more than u
I hear your voice and am content
until I open my lashes
and am assaulted by the void
of the lacking space beside me
The phantom arms that hold me close
each and every night
are not as strong as the counterpart
that reality amiably binds
in miles and hours and highway lengths
and empty pockets that find
a bit of octane fuels the heart
much more than it fuels the drive
Ah the suns rolls above the clouds
and the shadows release to play
and I alone with myself wake to find
I have survived another day
Viewpoint
Posted by
Keledae
comments (4)
How many times a day does a person walk through a door? Do we ever really think about it? The doorway, I mean. Perhaps we should.
Meghan stared through the display glass window of the dress shop. Her light grey eyes focused completely on an antique wedding dress that was made almost entirely of lace the color of dried corn silk. It was strapless, but it had matching gloves that ended at the wrist to imitate sleeves. The skirt puffed out under the lace layer in a trumpet like shape. Meghan loved it, she knew that dress was meant for her.
Inside the shop a woman with blue horn rimmed glasses and dark hair pulled back in a menacing bun, watched the grey eyed girl with interest. Most of the people on the street would turn to glance at her small store, but so few really appreciated the beautiful peaces that were her life's work. This girl she could see, was absolutely taken in by it. She smiled to herself, and the deep wrinkles on her face stretched themselves deeper. Perhaps, she thought, here was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She walked around the counter and looked up. The girl was gone.
Jonathan watched Meghan from across the street. His deep red hair hanging in his face made him look sad. She was staring through a window at a dress shop. At what? he wondered. He shrugged his shoulders and his denim bomber jacket jingled as one of the buttons fell to the ground. He groaned, attracting the attention of a cute blond girl that was walking past. He winked at her and she giggled, then he bent, picked up the button, and returned to watching Meghan. Meghan, whose black hair hung to her waist in soft waves. He loved her hair, and he was almost paralyzed by it as it fanned in the wind when she turned away from the window and started walking down the street. He didn't notice the blue-rimmed glasses that watched him as he moved away after her.
George Conover was a business man. Business was what he was all about, and business was what he was good at. He was the highest paid consultant in the entire state, but he had a little problem paying his parking tickets. So now, he was sitting at this smelly corner bus stop waiting for the green line to show up and take him a block from home. His leather briefcase sat at his feet, it was heavy and polished black so that is shone and was almost reflective. He looked down at it and was surprised to see a flash of silver, a high heeled shoe, two of them actually, on feet. He looked up at the dark haired girl in the green halter dress. She smiled casually at him, her grey eyes crinkled slightly, but she said nothing. He nodded back at her and looked around. The bus stop, which had been empty when he arrived, now held three other people, the girl, a red haired boy, and an older man with a can and an oxygen tank. George got up off the bench and offered it to the old man, who wheezed at him in gratitude and sat down. The dark-haired girl smiled warmly at him. "That was incredible" she seemed to say. The red-haired boy coughed behind her and moved a few steps closer to them. It was a relief to George to board the bus when it arrived.
The boy with the denim bomber jacket and brown biker boots caught her eye, and Brooke shifted to make room in her seat for him. She smiled when he sat, and crossed her legs, letting her shorts ride up a little, to show him her thigh. She was rewarded for her efforts when he took a long look, and she ran her finger down the line of her leg for him. He blushed a bit and looked up. She caught his brown eyes in hers and uncrossed her legs, for some reason this boy made her feel bold, and a little dangerous. She reached out for his hand, and he closed his eyes as she laid it on her exposed inner thigh. She flushed when she started to gently moved his finger over her skin and towards her center. She was afraid to look at him again as he touched her, but if she had, she would have noticed that he was watching the girl who sat two rows ahead of them and across the isle, and if she had noticed that, she would have been insulted. Instead she was moist and hot when he got up without a word and followed the girl off at her stop. Brooke smiled with pleasure at the encounter.
Ryan was thirteen now. Today was his birthday, and he was teenager. Three years away from his license, and lifetimes away from ever getting a date. He looked longingly at the cars parked on his block, and thought about how it would feel to drive one. He waved at Meghan, the pretty girl from down the street as she got off the bus. She waved back and kept walking. Ryan didn't really pay attention to the red-haired guy behind her, he was too busy watching Meghan walk, but he noticed when the guy pushed her into the alley, he heard the thud as she fell. He also noticed that one of her shoes had come off on the sidewalk, one of her silver high heels. She wore those shoes all the time. He scurried across the street to the mouth of the alley. He should have tried to help her, he knew that. Instead he watched. She saw him standing there, her eyes begged him to help, but Ryan couldn't move. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. The guy had a hand over her mouth, he was raping her. Ryan knew that. He knew a lot of things, he knew he should do something. So he picked up her shoe, and watched.
Betty Miller answered the door. The neighbor boy Ryan, stood on her porch. He was shaking and pale, covered in sweat. He handed her a silver high heeled shoe, her daughter Meghans, and then he fell, face down into the house. Betty screamed when she saw the boot knife and the blood. She called the police. She was too late. Betty trebled as the covered the boy with the body bag, she answered every question, but no one could answer hers. Why did he have Meghans shoe?
Anchor woman Joy Alms scanned her top story for the evening news and frowned. Just once she would have liked the top story to be happy. The producer gave the cue and Joy came on the air. She told the story of a local girl, found in an alley, she was rapped and beaten. She was wearing a single silver high heel. Joy Alms didn't know it, but Betty Miller, had finally gotten the answer to her question.
Meghan stared through the display glass window of the dress shop. Her light grey eyes focused completely on an antique wedding dress that was made almost entirely of lace the color of dried corn silk. It was strapless, but it had matching gloves that ended at the wrist to imitate sleeves. The skirt puffed out under the lace layer in a trumpet like shape. Meghan loved it, she knew that dress was meant for her.
Inside the shop a woman with blue horn rimmed glasses and dark hair pulled back in a menacing bun, watched the grey eyed girl with interest. Most of the people on the street would turn to glance at her small store, but so few really appreciated the beautiful peaces that were her life's work. This girl she could see, was absolutely taken in by it. She smiled to herself, and the deep wrinkles on her face stretched themselves deeper. Perhaps, she thought, here was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She walked around the counter and looked up. The girl was gone.
Jonathan watched Meghan from across the street. His deep red hair hanging in his face made him look sad. She was staring through a window at a dress shop. At what? he wondered. He shrugged his shoulders and his denim bomber jacket jingled as one of the buttons fell to the ground. He groaned, attracting the attention of a cute blond girl that was walking past. He winked at her and she giggled, then he bent, picked up the button, and returned to watching Meghan. Meghan, whose black hair hung to her waist in soft waves. He loved her hair, and he was almost paralyzed by it as it fanned in the wind when she turned away from the window and started walking down the street. He didn't notice the blue-rimmed glasses that watched him as he moved away after her.
George Conover was a business man. Business was what he was all about, and business was what he was good at. He was the highest paid consultant in the entire state, but he had a little problem paying his parking tickets. So now, he was sitting at this smelly corner bus stop waiting for the green line to show up and take him a block from home. His leather briefcase sat at his feet, it was heavy and polished black so that is shone and was almost reflective. He looked down at it and was surprised to see a flash of silver, a high heeled shoe, two of them actually, on feet. He looked up at the dark haired girl in the green halter dress. She smiled casually at him, her grey eyes crinkled slightly, but she said nothing. He nodded back at her and looked around. The bus stop, which had been empty when he arrived, now held three other people, the girl, a red haired boy, and an older man with a can and an oxygen tank. George got up off the bench and offered it to the old man, who wheezed at him in gratitude and sat down. The dark-haired girl smiled warmly at him. "That was incredible" she seemed to say. The red-haired boy coughed behind her and moved a few steps closer to them. It was a relief to George to board the bus when it arrived.
The boy with the denim bomber jacket and brown biker boots caught her eye, and Brooke shifted to make room in her seat for him. She smiled when he sat, and crossed her legs, letting her shorts ride up a little, to show him her thigh. She was rewarded for her efforts when he took a long look, and she ran her finger down the line of her leg for him. He blushed a bit and looked up. She caught his brown eyes in hers and uncrossed her legs, for some reason this boy made her feel bold, and a little dangerous. She reached out for his hand, and he closed his eyes as she laid it on her exposed inner thigh. She flushed when she started to gently moved his finger over her skin and towards her center. She was afraid to look at him again as he touched her, but if she had, she would have noticed that he was watching the girl who sat two rows ahead of them and across the isle, and if she had noticed that, she would have been insulted. Instead she was moist and hot when he got up without a word and followed the girl off at her stop. Brooke smiled with pleasure at the encounter.
Ryan was thirteen now. Today was his birthday, and he was teenager. Three years away from his license, and lifetimes away from ever getting a date. He looked longingly at the cars parked on his block, and thought about how it would feel to drive one. He waved at Meghan, the pretty girl from down the street as she got off the bus. She waved back and kept walking. Ryan didn't really pay attention to the red-haired guy behind her, he was too busy watching Meghan walk, but he noticed when the guy pushed her into the alley, he heard the thud as she fell. He also noticed that one of her shoes had come off on the sidewalk, one of her silver high heels. She wore those shoes all the time. He scurried across the street to the mouth of the alley. He should have tried to help her, he knew that. Instead he watched. She saw him standing there, her eyes begged him to help, but Ryan couldn't move. She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. The guy had a hand over her mouth, he was raping her. Ryan knew that. He knew a lot of things, he knew he should do something. So he picked up her shoe, and watched.
Betty Miller answered the door. The neighbor boy Ryan, stood on her porch. He was shaking and pale, covered in sweat. He handed her a silver high heeled shoe, her daughter Meghans, and then he fell, face down into the house. Betty screamed when she saw the boot knife and the blood. She called the police. She was too late. Betty trebled as the covered the boy with the body bag, she answered every question, but no one could answer hers. Why did he have Meghans shoe?
Anchor woman Joy Alms scanned her top story for the evening news and frowned. Just once she would have liked the top story to be happy. The producer gave the cue and Joy came on the air. She told the story of a local girl, found in an alley, she was rapped and beaten. She was wearing a single silver high heel. Joy Alms didn't know it, but Betty Miller, had finally gotten the answer to her question.
I write Poetry
Posted by
Keledae
comments (1)
I read poetry with a biased eye
Who decides? I think, that these words
mean more than mine
But as I read, I step in time
To someone else's rhythm and
someone else's rhyme
I picture places I've never been
I see new faces I've never seen
I hear words spoken that touch my heart
I deal with places
I am torn apart
I read poetry with a biased eye
Who decides? Thinks I, that these words
are more than mine
But as I read
I step across seas
I enter palaces
I float with the breeze
I move through time
I settle in space
I watch death
I see grace
I relearn lessons I thought I knew
I look around, I see new hues
New colors come in
They fade
and die
Because I read poetry with a biased eye
Who decides? I think, that these words
mean more than mine
But as I read, I step in time
To someone else's rhythm and
someone else's rhyme
I picture places I've never been
I see new faces I've never seen
I hear words spoken that touch my heart
I deal with places
I am torn apart
I read poetry with a biased eye
Who decides? Thinks I, that these words
are more than mine
But as I read
I step across seas
I enter palaces
I float with the breeze
I move through time
I settle in space
I watch death
I see grace
I relearn lessons I thought I knew
I look around, I see new hues
New colors come in
They fade
and die
Because I read poetry with a biased eye
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