Tuesday, June 24, 2008

opening what's closed

a small piece from a journal
i once finished and locked away
if i can be here for you in anyway
to talk to laugh to cry on my shoulder
let me write for you
because only you understand these words
we live in our writers world
and now i have someone to
share this piece with.
I read it now and i can't believe
i was wrote this one
so chilling:
-DAY 183-
"What just happened? Why is the world so off-balance? When do I stop?
When do I continue? All these horrible thoughts rushing through my head at the
wrong time in my life. I shouldn't be thinking these things until I am old and
forgotten, having spent my life in a retirement home next to the one
i was destined to be with. All of this rushing through my head on day one.
And now we are on day 183. I just graduated outside on the football field where
we spent eight years of gym glass playing soccer, football, or running, always
conversing the next story either one of us would write. Never realizing mine would be
about the person i was discussing it with. I can't believe I am here. I can't believe a
year went by so fast. I can't believe a life went by so fast. I can't believe I ate lunch
with that life every day since kindergarden. I can't believe that life forced me to write
about what I was much too uncomfortable writing about (for fear someone might find
it) I can't believe we're not on the same track of time. All people are on
different tracks of time. Every single person has a different set of
finger prints, different, DNA, different loves, and different set tracks of
time alloted. And yet, we strangely get involved with these people.
Each of us weaving ourselves in and out of one another's lives. And in those
183 days what have I learned? Life is not fragile; and those that claim it
is are drastically misunderstood, because the weak and strong have
equal chances of dying. Life is set like music:
it begins, it develops, it flourishes, and it ends.
Sometimes it takes 100 years.
Sometimes it takes 17.
I've learned to enjoy the moments with the person I'm with,
or not with, or whomever I love. Someday I will pick up these pieces,
put them back together and use them to dig myself out. I don't know
when. I don't know how to get someof the images out of my head...
for my sanity. And maybe they should stay there as a reminder that
I graduated quickly, I lived quickly, I loved without notice,
and I wrote with caution. The search for my place in the
universe will never end, but every man makes that search. I hope to
make mine slowly. To observe and not forget it
this time. Not take those that are weaving themselves in and out of my time here
for granted. And I won't lie this time. If I love you, you'll know it. Because thats all
I have. I feel like its a second chance to live the right way. I'm the lucky one.
One of those that can take a lesson from all of this.
I'm finished now. I'm going to close this book now. You've gotten me through this.
You. And you alone. I'll use another one of your kind when I need the help. Will I
ever come back to you? Someday. Someday I'll need you again. I feel it.
But you must go now so I can start the new chapters, college, love, children, aging,
death. Or none of it. All I ask is that you be there for me. And I'll be here for you."

"I have lived in the darkness for so long
I'm waitin' for the light to shine
Far beyond horizons I've seen
Beyond the things I've been
Beyond the dreams I've dreamed
Are the things I've done
In fact each and every one.
Are the way that I've been
taught to run" -r.miller

Saturday, June 21, 2008

stumbling

painful to see it
but funny to watch
it. wishing they could
see themselves
knowing they
cant. they
cant even
see us.
stark
and sick
ridiculous
and hilarious
at the same time
while extremely grave
and serious and touchy.
the threats and ungratefulness
makes me feel like we're aliens.


“Oh, you don’t need a theatre, you don’t need a board, you don’t need a subscription audience, you don’t need a lot of money. All you need is a room with some people from the same planet that you’re from.”
--Andre Gregory, as quoted in American Theatre Magazine, March 2005

"neon outlines with lights on
the front and lights
underneath.
it's all gonna shine"

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

it

i feel bad for
my piano
it always seems
to come last in my
pathetic list of
everything i
fail to forget.
my music is
forgotten sometimes.
always coming last.
i dont know why i
put it there.

and yet it seems that
every piece i learn
(they take a long time to complete)
seems to reflect a slight
piece of me at the time.
nocturnes, waltz(s),
and the clare de lune
the moon shines so beautiful
your face so radiant.

and now it's a person
whos been forced from their
homeland and their sadness
is their music. the piece
is hated by the
composer
which make it
his most worthy.

i chose this...
this prelude without
considering the notes
why are my choices
so sub-conscious
self-willed
forcing me to
discover what
else is inside
after i've chosen
why did i just write that

those three opening
notes can be so
difficult and loud
and when you finally
get a break in the music
you still are a little
bit carved out
by the opening

i shouldn't let
myself get so
worked up
over a little
piece of piano
music.

Friday, June 13, 2008

The Thirteen Hours of English Muffin Torture

tonight is friday the 13th
and i suppose it's fitting
that i worked a 13 hour
day that felt like a knife
wound. whew. worse
than a rehearsal...haha

i sit there
water pouring
down my arms
bits of breakfast
lunch and dinner
and the pleasantries
in between, or the
shameless noising
about how your
english muffin is
overdone
(even though
it's the same
as yesterday
and everyday before,
the way you liked it)
but when i cook your
muffin, i'm wrong
when i put out your
coffee mugs you can't
see them, and scream and
shout until you realize they
are sitting
in front
of you
or your water goblets are
still not filled correctly
so you go to the
head-of-everything
and complain
and get your water
(of course it's not poured right,
but thanks for letting me slide on that)
and you never drink one sip
you want attention
from me
from me
from me
and not the rest of them
why?
because i'm the only
guy there that's attractive
sometimes i'm the only...guy.
i appreciate the compliment
its not easy being the most
gorgeous guy in the world
but i also happen to be madly
smitten with the most beautiful
girl in the world.
so ladies...
i regret to
inform you,
but i'm taken.

but you're lucky
enough to have
squeezed a blog
entry out of me

time for bed

"And it’s draining all of me
Oh they find it hard to believe
I’ll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see" L.L.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

a snake from aesop

time gets away from
us some days
like today
as if two
hours
were so
quick and the
past six have been
eternities here
away from
you.

let me fill part
of an empty
that can't
be filled
let us soar over top the
lost components
and not look
back.
this is not why
we are here
but sometimes we must
live through what's
not meant to be
so we might find
what is
what was
what will be
meant to be
to the truths that
exist, to those exposed
yearning for the pictures
and wine and recognition
but no work
or help
or care

Aesop's Fables has an old
story about a hardworking
man who had a nice family
children, a wife, a house.
A man who led his family
through the good and the
bad. But one day he was
out hunting in the woods
and came across a wounded snake almost immobile
that had just enough energy to keep
itself alive for a short period of time
but needed the help of the man to
care for it.
So the man took the snake back to his
house and nursed the poor withered
creature back to health.
One night, the man's wife was
in the house admiring the snake
(as the story goes) and the snake
reared up, and bit the man's wife
giving the woman he loved a
near-fatal injury.
Just as quick as the man helped
the snake back to health, he took
the life back... killing the snake instantly
never looking back to the lifeless corpse.

Moral of the story?
Don't bite the hand that feeds you?
No...
They are merely snakes
And God-forbid they bite you...

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

untitled passion

soaked to the bone
perspiring with close
contact abound
a shrug through the hair
a gentle run of fingertips
down her face
and a kiss
quiet
then growing
longer and more
beautiful than i've
ever felt or seen
or heard or smelled
or lived.

a passion of desire
felt again and again
gone away, almost
left me getting
almost cold
then a lingering
few kisses
and "i love yous"
exchanged bewildered
but always meant
then distance
the furthest
save death
a search
pulling at the strings
making us stronger
and helping us
grow and come
to realize
what we really
are. what we
can't hide
from
whats...
meant to be

a great teacher
once told me
this...
"its like the wizard of oz,
one must travel through
the wilderness to
realize that there's
no place like home"w.w.
was this the wilderness
or just a profound
realization of what's
so close to home
the pride
the beauty
the youth
the passion
and togetherness
of soul-mates
of us