love cannot be due to humanity.

i used to regard love as the most powerful element in the world. actually up until about one minute ago i still did, or so i thought. many times i have fought on the front lines of Love's brigade.
"it can overcome hatred" i would say. look around you. look at the prejudice big and small.

black. white. brown. fat. slim. old. young. clean. crust. scene. country. Muslim. Jew. Christian. look at the violence it begets, if not with fists, then with heart.

"it can overpower bitterness" i have cried. see for yourself. see the millions dis-enchanted with God. if you are afraid to recognize such atrocity i shall wish to laugh in your face, bite my thumb to your ways, and spit on your hands. for even though you dare not lick your lips to admit it, you feel its existence.

"it can crumble resentment" i pressed. watch.

PAY ATTENTION PLEASE!

friendships, families, lovers lay tossed asunder.

necks splintered, feet crippled under resentments weight.

need you ask why your churches are in ruins, why your country lets you down?!

is love conquering the daughter who resents her mother for being gay?

is love defeating the pride of one more religious friend to her brothers and sisters?

is love erasing the pain caused by the death of two loved ones within the same year?

is love reuniting three old friends faced with hurt and betrayal on all sides?

is it love that speaks through the drunken father calling on an intoxicated vapor?

monolithic love...i imagined it all.

this all, i have come to realize. it is known in my head and, with the heaviest of all sighs i may ever breath, i have known this in my heart.

love.

love before you can love no longer.

if there be no God,

how have we survived thus far.

don't lose your glasses.

i admit i am a brutally broken girl.
my days too often follow such mornings
that most certainly followed such nights
and though i am past pasts
the pasts contain things you wouldn't imagine,
and aren't as far away as i would like.

take me at face value,
for usually it is all i will let you have.
and i will cry at that fact,
that you will never understand what i feel,
but it's not because you don't want to,
it's because i don't want to.....understand.
DEAR GOD! i feel hands and mouths, i feel hate.
are the hands mine? no, but the hate is.
contained in a place that is only mine,
that i may cradle it and hate myself in peace.

such shames i bear! and though i am comforted
in knowing you carry them as well,
i am not convinced that i am alright.
memories take the shape of serpents,
and crawl through my eyes....
and every open hole that you can see.

i hope you never see clearly through your rose colored glasses,
for then you would see my true hues,
and you would love me,
and i am scared of love! and i am scared of loving!
and if such came to be you would see all of me,
and know all of me, and i you....
and we would weep...and we would love.

(originally written Aug. 2008)

James.

[to preface this...piece? i would like to say it was written many years ago and it is not my favorite. however, i think the ending is cute, and if taken into account what is actually happening in the span of 30 minutes time after meeting the character "James" then it is quite an interesting delve into the female mind....maybe....]


hello acquaintance.
i have learned your name, and you have heard mine.
we will sit together and share glimpses of impossibility.
i think such things that you know not of,
and taking an odd sense of pride about my secrecy.
i am thinking of my newest betrayal.
i love(d) him, and he love(d)(s) me?
she "loves" him, and he does not love her.
they shared moments of something that meant everything to me.
and once to him.
now they are hers, in vain and by much deceit,
for i cannot stress enough his nothing.......

acquaintance, you do not know how sad i am.
i sing loudly and dance about as if i were a dervish,
again i take pride in such secrecy,
that something inside me is brutally wounded,
and that you cannot tell.
i briefly entertain the idea of our situation.
you are much different than i, sir.
my mind chooses another route,
and it is quite an opposite one....
For somewhere in this place there is a boy i dream of;

his hair is dark and matted,
and though unshaven and dirty,
his brilliance continues to leave a glint in my eye.
his scratchy voice speaks in rhymes and sings of truth and beauty.
where my betrayal is causing decay his words bring me a joy,
UN ABOUND
that has stopped my tears and brought shallow, excited breaths to me lungs....

though, acquaintance, i find you appealing,
i do not know you heart and in his...
in his is something that also beats in mine.
BE NOT DISMAYED!
For though i have chosen him over you,
you are just my acquaintance,
and you never knew anything.
:)

under the asphalt [oldsht]

i pulled up the weeds and sure enough

there was some love underneath.

i thought i had lost you, Love.

but you, you are a trickster!

you hide beneath the ragweeds.

where the ladybugs are.

maybe it's not time [oldsht]

The Children are searching for the moon.

Someone speaks a hint of its glory,

and the Children cry:

“Brother moon, we cannot see as you hide

beyond the forest trees.

Please come out to play, that we may dance

in your glow and praise such an artist as He!”

This nights moon shall retire all to soon,

and the Children will traipse to bed,

(of course in a town where bedtimes come later than most)

they go, tired and unfulfilled from the nights misadventures.

In the morning such grey sweeps the land.

The Children are searching for the sun.

Someone whistles a tune of its melody,

And the Children cry:

“Sister sun, we cannot feel you as you hide

beyond the clouds.

Please come out to play, that we may

hear your bright lines and sing to such a

musician as He!”

The days sun shall not arise before the sullen sky,

however, unconvinced as Children can sometime be they resolve:

“Sister sun and Brother moon,

the animals are resting from their

chattering play. The flowers cower in their

buds and even the stars have dimmed their glows.

We too need a time of rest. When it is that you

both return from yours, we will rejoice, and sing

and dance as Children are meant to do.”

wolves in girls clothing [oldsht]

Your tight morals gave way to loose lips...........

What a wayward kiss!

It caused much damage than you'd like to admit in attempts to free a depression that was his......and his only.

and believe me doll face i know more than any his needs can't be met, or freed, or fed...

just disguised and you wore the veil like cheap perfume,

and we caught your scent like wolves.....

.. ..

Along with your dignity such trust you buried......

Well, i buried it...

and as of yet you've not put a shovel to the grave.

the dirt

REMAINS THE SAME!

unmoved like the heart of the boy you so sought to tame.

i watched your quest like it was a horrible wreck....

such speed will never leave you safe and i've heard the alarms too many times. Like crying wolf you tried and tried....

but i've stopped listening.

i don't know when i'll hear your voice again, but as the sound of your words reach my ears i'll take them with a grain of salt.

not because i'm wary of your truths,

but because i've heard them so many times they've become plain.....

i've heard it said to love and forgive....

but can you forgive and love and distrust all at the same pace?

See, Jesus said

NOT ONE IS GOOD........

and until now, i wondered if this was just a myth.....

warple was the color i created in fourth grade [oldsht]

i am but my own person.

un-willed, as of yet, by G-d

and free from the bonds of love.

(Love in the sense that is romantic AND relational,

i am not free from the loving of people.)

if i should dare to take on my adventures i could do so with as much ease as anyone who has taken on adventures of their own.

my decisions would be based on wantings of my own....

follow those tracks...

play in the rocky sands...

camp underneath the willow trees.

my worry would be only with the bugs,

who just so happened to pick those same trees to slumber beneath.

i would search the beauty of the earth until my heart was full of colors that havn't even been given names,

beating portraits of things only the Creator could see.

and i would think that to be a fair trade,

His colors, for my unspoken heart.

experienced gardener wanted [oldsht]

i am becoming a restless child.

i can no longer sit and listen.

your prayers are full of pride and your hearts weighed down with injustice, you embrace such as false love and peek through curtain eyelids.

judge their fruit you say and forget about your own!

what cherry tree you have chopped down, for you had not yet seen the seeds!

and alas! you had all along refused to water the roots!

blasphemy, you cry!

blasphemy, i choke back, rasped on the air of your burning vineyards.

our battle is that of a warrior and his enemy.

we will never come to peaceful terms.

but FIGHT, i am willing to DIE! for the love in me, is the love of G-D.

so fight you i must, but love you i must also.

for as much as you are my enemy, you are made of dirt and breath.

and someone died for you too.

the chemistry of freezing vs. flying [oldsht]

the chills grew.
spread not unlike that of flies on a rancid carcass of something that was once greater.
but, supposing, all that is rotting away MUST have been something more!
as flowers have surely wilted from roses.
as eyes have surely recognized brighter colors.
as voices surely have shouted louder revolutions!

the chills grew.
passing through veins like cheap cocaine in attempts to make WHAT real?
this nothingness?
i remember when your words carried heart.

the chills grew.
as the thought of death rushed the martyrs.

the chills grew,
when realized you could never die with such dignity.

kill the lights, neverland is missing [oldsht]

that intimacy i never give away......
i gave it away.

once
or twice.
or even three times.

"one day i'd like it to stay."
i said.
but they all gave it away, too.

once. i placed it gently back.
in his open palms.

"no, this time...i really want YOU to have it."
and he slipped it through his fingers like a magic trick.
gone.

i searched.
day and night.

i would dream of hints.....
and wake to papers filled with sketches...
of me.
and of you.
of the last time i was able to give it away.....

thank you for showing me how to be afraid

i should save these in a safer place;;

Kudos to the new year.

This isn't really my resolution,

but i figured my previous years of writings weren't being given proper chance just sitting in lame-o blogs connected to myspace and facebook....

not that there are anything wrong with such sites,

i do the majority of my spy/creeper skills grazing like a starved cow through dozens of interesting looking profiles.

of boys with cute haircuts, or crappy indie music that someone is going to determine to be the hottest thing since sliced bread (toasted slice bread....since it's hot....ya know...)

anyways,

i've decided to move my old pieces of poetry, prose, storytelling, or whatever the hell else i've phrased these past many years into this site.

one site to unite them all!

if you won't give up,i won't give up;;

sometimes, life can be a heavy thing.

not like a burden.

or a cross to carry.

just heavy.

today was supposed to bring my first actual field search for a missing person.

or, for the body that is......

it ended up raining pretty heavily, making the already frigid weather worse.

instead we ended up at the small chuch that brad,

our founder, our trainer and all around swell guy,

pastors.

the longer i find myself in this kind of work,

the heavier and heavier it gets.

the stories of missing children get harder and harder to hear.

the pictures get harder and harder to see,

because the numbers are growing.....

and the violence is growing......

and the rape is growing.....

and the murder is growing.....

and what's worse....

we are outnumbered.

it pains me to know that we spend time visiting churches,

teaching them, showing them, even giving them opportunities to help,

and all to almost no avail.

God's "people" are great in number....

when they can get something out of it....

when they can feel good from a sermon and go home happy.

all the while....

2300 children go missing in the united states everyday.

sold for sex.

sold for drugs.

sold for a buck.

stolen for a fantasy.

beaten for a thrill.

and the majority,

they never get to home happy again.

because they never get to go home again.